Hello! I forgot to write stuff up here last time. Oops. Lol.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in here…but I wish I did! (Vaughn…ah…). Oh wait…there might be one or two made up characters in the upcoming chapters, but I don't know their names yet.
Archive: Anywhere? Just tell me.
Other: Thanks for reviewing! P.S. Natalie, you're not hallucinating! Lol.
AN: there's a little thing in here about "being blonde," but don't take it seriously! It's just something I had to put in here…
- another thing: this chapter sucks. I know it does. It's just that I didn't have the time to get in touch with my writing side…lol.
2/?
--
"What the hell was Agent Weiss thinking?" Jack nearly shouted at Sydney.
"I don't know!" Sydney protested. She had thought the same thing. Why hadn't he told her privately…at first, she hadn't thought about the consequences of his actions, but now after a few days of pondering and thinking, she finally realized the extent of his actions.
"With Mrs. Vaughn there. And all Vaughn's friends. Devlin too!"
"Don't you think I know that? I was there."
"Really? I don't think you do."
"Dad…just…go. The past month has been nothing but hell for me, all right? Don't make me add your name to the list."
"Sydney…there are rules."
"Protocol. I know. I'm not stupid, although you may think otherwise. You know what was the hardest part at his…funeral? Yes, knowing that he wouldn't be coming back, but also that I couldn't go up there and talk about him. I wasn't allowed to go up there and tell everyone how much I…he meant to me. Hell, most of them probably didn't even know who I was."
"You're right about that. Mrs. Vaughn had called Devlin the night of the funeral to ask who you were. She figured that you two worked together, because Vaughn didn't have much of a social life outside of the job…Weiss got a call from Alice."
"And?" Sydney responded, trying to put on a look of indifference. What does that have to do with me?
--
"OK Syd, what's wrong?" Will asked that evening, cornering her into the kitchen.
Good thing there were two exits to the kitchen, Sydney thought. But from the look on Will's face, he wasn't about to drop the subject.
She sighed, stalling.
"C'mon Syd, I already know about your job. You can trust me."
Trust has nothing to do with it, trust me, Sydney thought.
"It's nothing."
"I may be blonde, but I'm a reporter. I know something's up," Will replied, looking at her through his glasses.
"It's nothing Will."
"Hey guys!" Francie's enthusiastic voice called out. The jangling of keys was heard, followed by footsteps.
"Hey Fran," Sydney grinned, breathing a barely audible sigh of relief.
"Yeah. Hey," Will responded glumly.
"Did I interrupt something?" Francie asked, her gaze darting between Sydney and Will.
"No."
"No…" Will echoed reluctantly.
"Well, all right then. I found a place for my restaurant!" Francie grinned happily, her cheeks pink with excitement.
"Where? When?"
"Near the pier. That old restaurant Fettucino's is closing."
The pier…Vaughn…
"Fran, that's great," Sydney replied, trying to put some oomph in her words. She thought her words sounded weak, but Francie didn't notice. She was too excited.
"Will, can you write an article about it after it opens up?"
"Sure. I'll be your first customer."
"I'm gonna go out for a while."
"Where?"
"Nowhere…I don't know. I'm just going jogging," Sydney responded, already halfway out the door.
--
After jogging for thirty minutes, Sydney found herself in the cemetery, standing right in front of Vaughn's grave. She stared at it for a long time. MICHAEL C. VAUGHN: BELOVED SON AND FRIEND.
Then she remembered his mother's speech. "My son…was the best one a mother could ever hope for. Although sometimes he didn't listen to me, he was…he was perfect."
In her head, she was screaming, "Stop using past tenses! He's coming back. He has to come back…" What started as a strong thought ended up sounding desperate.
She knelt down by the flowers in front of the gray stone and stayed there for a while, thinking about her guardian angel. He should have ran faster. Yeah, good one Syd, blame him. You were the one that got him into this mess in the first place, remember?
The crunching of leaves behind her startled Sydney out of her thoughts. She turned slowly, and her eyes widened as she saw a shock of blonde hair.
Alice.
Sydney stared for only a few seconds, then turned back to the grave. She was caught.
"Who are you?"
"Sydney," Sydney replied, watching for the flicker of recognition. It finally came. Alice's nose was turned up a little higher than before, and her cheeks were pinker.
"So, you're Sydney."
"You're Alice."
"How'd you know? Oh, did Michael tell you all about me?"
"No…I figured it out."
Alice threw Sydney a defiant glare. "Well, what are you doing here?"
"What does it look like?"
"Who were you to Michael?" Alice asked suddenly.
"You mean who am I to him," Sydney corrected, not trying to be mean, but she just couldn't take the past tenses anymore.
Alice's glare turned more deadly.
"I'm his friend."
"His pizza-loving friend?" Alice snickered.
"Do you want to talk somewhere else? Because I don't think this is such a great idea," Sydney responded, standing up. She was almost five inches taller than Alice. And for some reason, Sydney thanked God for those extra inches.
"I don't see why we can't talk here," Alice responded stubbornly.
Sydney sighed. She was not having a good day…with blondes. "Look Alice, I know you cared for Va…Michael, but he still deserves to be respected. Even after…"
"Oh, all right," Alice grunted, twirling a strand of long blonde hair on her finger. "I know a place to go."
--
"Is this your house?" Sydney asked, as Alice turned onto a lawn. Lots of colorful flowers were dying, turning brown and dry.
"No," Alice replied as she walked in the house. Sydney followed. "It's Delorme's. Mrs. Vaughn's house."
"Oh…"
"She wanted to know who Sydney was. So I guess the best way was to bring you here. She doesn't know you're here though. Hell, I didn't even know you were going to be there. I guess it's a coincidence."
"Alice?" a surprisingly strong voice called from the next room.
"Coming," Alice responded, grabbing a glass of water on the way.
"Hi Mrs. Vaughn. How are you doing today?" Alice asked slowly, as if she were talking to a first grader.
"Who is this?"
"I'm Sydney…Bristow," Sydney replied, looking at the woman in front of her. Her dark brown hair had not started to gray yet, and she only looked like she was in her forties. But when Sydney did the mathematics in her head, she was surprised to learn that Mrs. Vaughn was probably well into her sixties.
Mrs. Vaughn nodded. "Alice, would you mind going to the store for me? I just need a few things."
"Sure," Alice replied cheerfully, albeit unwillingly.
"Here's my list. I'll pay you back later."
--
"Thank God, that girl is gone," Mrs. Vaughn said as soon as Alice left. "She's always been so fake. I don't know what Michael ever saw in her."
"So…uh, how are you?"
"Not that good. But I can see you're doing the same. Or even worse."
"How can you tell?"
"Girl, I may be old, but I'm not blind," Mrs. Vaughn smiled a little. "So, Michael loved you?"
"Present tense," Sydney blurted.
"What? Oh…and you love him, am I right?"
Sydney managed to nod.
"Did you two work together in the CIA?"
"It's a long story. He's my handler."
"Come upstairs," Mrs. Vaughn said suddenly, heading for the stairs.
Mrs. Vaughn brought Sydney into an empty room.
"This is his room. I never brought anyone in here before, but then again, Michael never did say he loved anyone. And Alice was just an interruption. What she and Michael had was nothing more than a couple of dates here and there, although Alice seems to think differently."
Sydney didn't know what to say.
"Well, the main reason I brought you here, was to give you something. I remember a couple of weeks ago, he was talking about some woman he was working with, and how she was so different from any other woman he had met. I put two and two together, and that woman is standing right in front of me right now."
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in here…but I wish I did! (Vaughn…ah…). Oh wait…there might be one or two made up characters in the upcoming chapters, but I don't know their names yet.
Archive: Anywhere? Just tell me.
Other: Thanks for reviewing! P.S. Natalie, you're not hallucinating! Lol.
AN: there's a little thing in here about "being blonde," but don't take it seriously! It's just something I had to put in here…
- another thing: this chapter sucks. I know it does. It's just that I didn't have the time to get in touch with my writing side…lol.
2/?
--
"What the hell was Agent Weiss thinking?" Jack nearly shouted at Sydney.
"I don't know!" Sydney protested. She had thought the same thing. Why hadn't he told her privately…at first, she hadn't thought about the consequences of his actions, but now after a few days of pondering and thinking, she finally realized the extent of his actions.
"With Mrs. Vaughn there. And all Vaughn's friends. Devlin too!"
"Don't you think I know that? I was there."
"Really? I don't think you do."
"Dad…just…go. The past month has been nothing but hell for me, all right? Don't make me add your name to the list."
"Sydney…there are rules."
"Protocol. I know. I'm not stupid, although you may think otherwise. You know what was the hardest part at his…funeral? Yes, knowing that he wouldn't be coming back, but also that I couldn't go up there and talk about him. I wasn't allowed to go up there and tell everyone how much I…he meant to me. Hell, most of them probably didn't even know who I was."
"You're right about that. Mrs. Vaughn had called Devlin the night of the funeral to ask who you were. She figured that you two worked together, because Vaughn didn't have much of a social life outside of the job…Weiss got a call from Alice."
"And?" Sydney responded, trying to put on a look of indifference. What does that have to do with me?
--
"OK Syd, what's wrong?" Will asked that evening, cornering her into the kitchen.
Good thing there were two exits to the kitchen, Sydney thought. But from the look on Will's face, he wasn't about to drop the subject.
She sighed, stalling.
"C'mon Syd, I already know about your job. You can trust me."
Trust has nothing to do with it, trust me, Sydney thought.
"It's nothing."
"I may be blonde, but I'm a reporter. I know something's up," Will replied, looking at her through his glasses.
"It's nothing Will."
"Hey guys!" Francie's enthusiastic voice called out. The jangling of keys was heard, followed by footsteps.
"Hey Fran," Sydney grinned, breathing a barely audible sigh of relief.
"Yeah. Hey," Will responded glumly.
"Did I interrupt something?" Francie asked, her gaze darting between Sydney and Will.
"No."
"No…" Will echoed reluctantly.
"Well, all right then. I found a place for my restaurant!" Francie grinned happily, her cheeks pink with excitement.
"Where? When?"
"Near the pier. That old restaurant Fettucino's is closing."
The pier…Vaughn…
"Fran, that's great," Sydney replied, trying to put some oomph in her words. She thought her words sounded weak, but Francie didn't notice. She was too excited.
"Will, can you write an article about it after it opens up?"
"Sure. I'll be your first customer."
"I'm gonna go out for a while."
"Where?"
"Nowhere…I don't know. I'm just going jogging," Sydney responded, already halfway out the door.
--
After jogging for thirty minutes, Sydney found herself in the cemetery, standing right in front of Vaughn's grave. She stared at it for a long time. MICHAEL C. VAUGHN: BELOVED SON AND FRIEND.
Then she remembered his mother's speech. "My son…was the best one a mother could ever hope for. Although sometimes he didn't listen to me, he was…he was perfect."
In her head, she was screaming, "Stop using past tenses! He's coming back. He has to come back…" What started as a strong thought ended up sounding desperate.
She knelt down by the flowers in front of the gray stone and stayed there for a while, thinking about her guardian angel. He should have ran faster. Yeah, good one Syd, blame him. You were the one that got him into this mess in the first place, remember?
The crunching of leaves behind her startled Sydney out of her thoughts. She turned slowly, and her eyes widened as she saw a shock of blonde hair.
Alice.
Sydney stared for only a few seconds, then turned back to the grave. She was caught.
"Who are you?"
"Sydney," Sydney replied, watching for the flicker of recognition. It finally came. Alice's nose was turned up a little higher than before, and her cheeks were pinker.
"So, you're Sydney."
"You're Alice."
"How'd you know? Oh, did Michael tell you all about me?"
"No…I figured it out."
Alice threw Sydney a defiant glare. "Well, what are you doing here?"
"What does it look like?"
"Who were you to Michael?" Alice asked suddenly.
"You mean who am I to him," Sydney corrected, not trying to be mean, but she just couldn't take the past tenses anymore.
Alice's glare turned more deadly.
"I'm his friend."
"His pizza-loving friend?" Alice snickered.
"Do you want to talk somewhere else? Because I don't think this is such a great idea," Sydney responded, standing up. She was almost five inches taller than Alice. And for some reason, Sydney thanked God for those extra inches.
"I don't see why we can't talk here," Alice responded stubbornly.
Sydney sighed. She was not having a good day…with blondes. "Look Alice, I know you cared for Va…Michael, but he still deserves to be respected. Even after…"
"Oh, all right," Alice grunted, twirling a strand of long blonde hair on her finger. "I know a place to go."
--
"Is this your house?" Sydney asked, as Alice turned onto a lawn. Lots of colorful flowers were dying, turning brown and dry.
"No," Alice replied as she walked in the house. Sydney followed. "It's Delorme's. Mrs. Vaughn's house."
"Oh…"
"She wanted to know who Sydney was. So I guess the best way was to bring you here. She doesn't know you're here though. Hell, I didn't even know you were going to be there. I guess it's a coincidence."
"Alice?" a surprisingly strong voice called from the next room.
"Coming," Alice responded, grabbing a glass of water on the way.
"Hi Mrs. Vaughn. How are you doing today?" Alice asked slowly, as if she were talking to a first grader.
"Who is this?"
"I'm Sydney…Bristow," Sydney replied, looking at the woman in front of her. Her dark brown hair had not started to gray yet, and she only looked like she was in her forties. But when Sydney did the mathematics in her head, she was surprised to learn that Mrs. Vaughn was probably well into her sixties.
Mrs. Vaughn nodded. "Alice, would you mind going to the store for me? I just need a few things."
"Sure," Alice replied cheerfully, albeit unwillingly.
"Here's my list. I'll pay you back later."
--
"Thank God, that girl is gone," Mrs. Vaughn said as soon as Alice left. "She's always been so fake. I don't know what Michael ever saw in her."
"So…uh, how are you?"
"Not that good. But I can see you're doing the same. Or even worse."
"How can you tell?"
"Girl, I may be old, but I'm not blind," Mrs. Vaughn smiled a little. "So, Michael loved you?"
"Present tense," Sydney blurted.
"What? Oh…and you love him, am I right?"
Sydney managed to nod.
"Did you two work together in the CIA?"
"It's a long story. He's my handler."
"Come upstairs," Mrs. Vaughn said suddenly, heading for the stairs.
Mrs. Vaughn brought Sydney into an empty room.
"This is his room. I never brought anyone in here before, but then again, Michael never did say he loved anyone. And Alice was just an interruption. What she and Michael had was nothing more than a couple of dates here and there, although Alice seems to think differently."
Sydney didn't know what to say.
"Well, the main reason I brought you here, was to give you something. I remember a couple of weeks ago, he was talking about some woman he was working with, and how she was so different from any other woman he had met. I put two and two together, and that woman is standing right in front of me right now."