Disclaimer: These characters are not mine – they are the property of Bad Robot, Touchstone, ABC, JJ et al
Rating: PG-13 for some mild language
Feedback: Need it like I need water, my running shoes, Alias and fine wine… Please read/review ~ constructive criticism is always welcome!
Author's Note1: Post-Cipher. Assume Sydney has escaped from her icy predicament in Siberia (she is the star of the show after all!).
AN2: Chapters 4-7 all were beta-d by the most fantastic Agent Blakeney. (Thanks for your support!)
Chapter Seven: A Delicate Balance**Vaughn POV**
I can't believe I chose the warehouse for this meeting. It is always so dark and foreboding here. Usually, these qualities make it ideal for covert meetings, but today it only serves to amplify the depression that has enveloped me during the past four hours. An afternoon spent evaluating feelings for his agent does not make a handler a happy man. After four hours, I reached one critical conclusion: this situation stinks.
Looking down at my watch, I realize it is already 7:00. Sydney should be arriving shortly. Time to review, again, my conclusion from this afternoon: this situation stinks. No, scratch that - it is seriously fucked-up. I keep thinking back to Weiss' comments from earlier today, "How far are you willing to go as her friend and as her handler before you go completely fucking insane?"
How far am I willing to go? This question has been nagging at me all afternoon, because whether or not I could ever admit it to Eric, I know that I would go as far as necessary for Sydney, without question. The issue that weighs so heavily in my gut is not my willingness to do anything for Sydney, rather, it is whether she needs me to do anything at all.
The sound of footsteps jars me from my thoughts. I was hoping to think up a plan for this conversation, but it looks like I am going to just have to wing it. Sydney comes into view, and even in the low light of the warehouse, her beauty is undeniable.
"Hi," her voice punctuates the silence. She sits down on the table across from me, and I am momentarily distracted by her outfit. Usually Syd is dressed in a suit for our meetings, but tonight she looks like she is ready for a night out.
"You look nice tonight, Syd. Hope I am not keeping you from anything." The words escape my lips before I have a chance to hold them back.
She smiles shyly at me and says, "Thanks, and no, the only thing you are keeping me from is a bottle of Syrah and a paper on Jane Austen's feminist sensibility."
"Sounds like a fun evening," I reply, thankful that she is not on her way out on a date
"Yeah, really fun," she says with a laugh. "Anyway, why did you call me?"
Why did I call her? Where to even begin? This conversation is going to go nowhere fast unless I focus. Start with Santiago, we need to talk about Santiago.
I force my expression into one of a CIA handler, formal and impassionate. "Syd, we need to talk about what happened in Santiago."
I notice a flicker of fear cross her face as I say these words. She quickly recovers and says, "OK. What do we need to talk about?"
My instincts are piqued by her reaction. Fear is not something that I normally associate with Sydney, and I certainly do not know what she could be afraid of in terms of Santiago. However, it is not the time to press the issue, so I just continue down the path I was on.
"First of all, I want to congratulate you on a successful mission," I smile at her and she returns it. "However, I would like to understand why you did not listen to me when I told you to get out of Ferdinand's house."
Sydney is obviously startled by my words, because she sits up straight and wraps her arms around her chest tightly. "What do you mean?" she asks in a cold, flat tone.
I reply with a touch of sarcasm coloring my words. "Let me refresh your memory. You were out of the room with Sark and Ferdinand when you called in asking for the location of the box. That is when I told you to get out of the house."
She shakes her head and begins to pace. "But you weren't really serious," she says in disbelief. "We had to get the Rambaldi box. I had to complete the mission."
"What? How can you possibly think I was not serious?" I say incredulously. "I was calling the shots. You and I both know what that means – you listen and execute on my orders."
These words prompt Sydney to stop dead in her tracks. I can tell she wants to lash back at me, but instead she just shrugs her shoulders and says flippantly, "Vaughn, what's the big deal? No harm, no foul, right?"
"No harm, no foul," I reply tensely. "That's your explanation, Agent Bristow?"
She moves close to me, staring me straight in the eyes. "Yes, Agent Vaughn, it is. I successfully completed the mission, which, may I remind you, makes you look good. No harm, no foul. Now, why did you really call me here tonight?"
I can't fucking believe this. I step away from Sydney, trying to calm down and create some space between us. I need to figure out a way to ratchet down the tension and get the conversation back on track. "Here's the thing, Sydney," I say softly. "I know we deliberately blur the lines of protocol when needed, but two days ago in Santiago, the consequence of not following the rules could have gotten you killed."
Something in my words hits home, because Sydney sits down quietly on the table and sighs deeply.
"Vaughn," she begins. "You don't understand. I had to complete the mission, there was no other option." She jumps off the table again and continues to pace. "I don't lose. If I lose, we move a step away from taking down SD-6 and that is unacceptable."
"Well, Syd, I guess you have it all figured out," I say bitterly. "Sydney Bristow takes on the world alone – screw those around her who are trying to do the exact same fucking thing."
"That is not what I said," she hisses back fiercely. "Of course I need the help of whatever team is supporting me on the op, but that does not mean I am going to let that team hold me back."
This last comment is like a slap across the face. "So, I was holding you back?"
I can see the tears pooling in her eyes, but I am not going to give in. I know I am acting completely irrationally at this point, but those words cut to the core of my insecurity. She really did not need me at all.
"With all the support I have given you, all the rules I have broken, that is what you think? Taking down SD-6 is the sole responsibility of Sydney Bristow, and should anyone get in the way, screw 'em, 'cuz they are holding you back?"
"That is not what I meant," she says, standing up to go.
"Sydney, we are not done here," I say sternly.
She turns to face me and replies, "I know, Vaughn, but I don't have the energy to argue anymore tonight. Point taken, I should have listened to you in Santiago. Now I am going to go home and drink my bottle of wine."
She begins to leave, but stops and turns back again. "By the way, I dropped the details of my latest SD-6 mission this afternoon. Should I expect you to contact me with the counter-mission?"
"Yes, of course," I reply automatically. "I will be in touch tomorrow morning."
Her footsteps grow fainter, and then she is gone, leaving me feeling worse than I ever thought possible.
**Sydney POV**
What the hell just happened? After an hour driving around LA on my way back home from the warehouse, I still don't understand what happened between Vaughn and me. My cheeks are wet from tears, but I am not quite sure why I am crying. I really should be the one who is pissed. I can't believe that Vaughn accused me of disobeying an order and then basically of being a selfish bitch. I did not mean what I said – the words just came out before I even had a chance to stop them. I know they were hurtful, but Vaughn really overreacted.
Stalking back to my room to change, I realize that the reason I am crying is that our meeting ended up 180 degrees away from my expectations. I was excited to see Vaughn tonight. I even decided to change into something special – I know it is silly, but I just wanted to look pretty for him. We have not had a chance to talk since the flight to Santiago, and I wanted to explain more about Emily's gift and the garden. Maybe he would even tell me that I am amazing again - fat chance of that happening again after tonight.
I strip out of my carefully constructed outfit and into something more practical for a night of drinking and sulking. There is no way I am going to be able to write my paper tonight, so I think I will just get drunk and hope to forget this night ever happened.
It is a beautiful night out, so I decide to take my bottle of wine and sit outside by my plants. I sip my wine and think about the delicate balance of life. It amazes me to see how the seeds I planted last week are already beginning to show signs of life. The needs of my garden seem so simple: carbon dioxide, light, and water. What is truly astounding is how complex of a balance it actually is. Throw one of these elements off and the plant may die, but keep them in balance and it will thrive.
"Hmmm… less philosophy, more wine," I think to myself.
The wine is warming my body and I can feel the effects of the alcohol on my mind. I begin to relax and my thoughts return to this evening's disastrous meeting with Vaughn. I am sure that if I think through our conversation logically, I can figure out how it ended up being such a nightmare.
Unfortunately, every time I think about our meeting, all I hear is the hurt in Vaughn's voice. What prompted me to say that anyway? What made me insinuate that the people around me might hold me back? And why would I say this to Vaughn of all people? He has stood by my side for the past year, supporting my decisions, being my confidante and basically keeping me sane.
The answer is right there, filling my gut along with the wine – fear. I am afraid he will see the truth. That he will see how vulnerable that mission made me feel. That he will see how I have begun to question everything I stand for. I am afraid that this life is sucking me in, and perhaps Vaughn will realize that I am not as amazing as he thought.
Now, I am not only drunk and philosophical, but also depressed – a winning combination.
I let my eyes rove over my garden once again. Even though it is just a few plants in containers and not a real garden, I am proud of it. It is nice to be able to take care of something, to be responsible for maintaining the delicate balance that yields life and continued growth.
It strikes me that this is the role Vaughn plays in my life. I look to him to support me and keep me sane and alive given this crazy life I lead. If I were to lose him, I don't think I could go on. But isn't that what happened tonight? I managed to push away the one person who I need most in my life, all because I am scared.
Reminding myself of my pledge to figure this out logically, I decide that I have two options.
Option one is to let fear win out and do nothing. Just revert back to dealing with Vaughn in the protocol-driven manner of an Agent and her Handler. In some ways, this is the safe option. No one gets hurt, walls stay up, and I am able to detach from my feelings for him.
Option two is to ignore my fear and let my heart take over. I can tell Vaughn how I feel, how much I need him in my life. It might screw with protocol a bit, but I think we left those rules behind us long ago.
It seems to me, if logic can conquer the alcohol-fueled cloudiness in my mind, that by going with the first option, I am just perpetuating the issues that led to our fight this evening. However, option two is actually the scarier one. It is not easy for me to expose my heart. But then again, if I don't, the delicate balance I have maintained in my life will be thrown out the door and I could end up as the manifestation of all my fears – alone, corrupt, and addicted to the spy game.
I look down and realize that I managed to polish off the entire bottle of wine. I think that is a good sign for me to go to sleep. I can figure out what I am going to say to Vaughn tomorrow morning.
**Vaughn POV**
A little more than 12 hours after our first meeting, I am back at the warehouse to meet Sydney and give her the counter-mission for her latest SD-6 trip. After a night of tossing and turning, evaluating her words over and over in mind, I am fairly sure that she didn't mean what she said. Even a day after, the words still make me wince when I think about them; however, time has put them in perspective, and all I really want now is an explanation.
The clicking of heels against concrete indicates that Sydney has arrived. She comes into view, dressed in a suit for work. In her hand is a medium-sized shopping bag, which strikes me as odd, but I quickly forget about it as she comes closer. She puts the bag down and leans against the chain-link fence that encloses our little meeting spot. The silence is oppressive – one of us has to kick this off, so I decide to begin.
"Syd-," I say, just as I hear start with, "Vaughn."
She raises her eyes from the ground to look at me and indicates that I should go ahead.
"Syd," I begin again, "we need to talk about last night." She nods her head in agreement, still avoiding my gaze.
"First of all, I apologize for losing control. I shouldn't have yelled at you, but I need to be honest with you Syd… your words really stung."
I can see her grimace as she presses her hands to her temples. She quickly moves away from her place along the fence and begins to pace. "I know," she says softly. "God, Vaughn, I am so sorry. I was so wrong last night."
She takes a deep breath and pulls up a chair so she can sit facing me. I feel her hands grasp mine as she says, "Vaughn...Michael… I am going to tell you a few things and I just need you to listen."
The sensation of her closeness is overwhelming. Her hands are holding mine tightly and our knees are touching. She has a determined expression on her face, but I can feel her trembling slightly, like she is afraid of what might come out of her mouth.
The sound of her voice pulls me back to her. "Michael, remember how I told you about my garden on the flight to Santiago?"
I nod my head, afraid that any sound might interrupt her thoughts.
"Well, I realized last night how deceptively hard it is to cultivate life…how a delicate balance is required to ensure my garden grows and prospers. If anything throws off this balance, the garden could easily turn to dust. It is my job as a gardener, to make sure that this balance is maintained." She looks at me again with those enormous eyes and continues, "I'm sorry. I know this sounds convoluted, but just bear with me"
I finally find my voice and reply encouragingly, "That's alright, Syd, I'm listening."
She sighs and looks up at the ceiling, obviously struggling with the next part of her story. When she looks back at me, I realize that her eyes are glistening with unshed tears. She gives me a faint smile, squeezes my hands and continues her story. "There are days when I feel like the balance between life and death, sanity and insanity in my life is so precarious that I could easily fall into the abyss at any moment."
Another pause as Syd bites her lip and looks up at that magical spot on the ceiling. I squeeze her hands again and nod encouragingly, hoping she will continue.
"You of all people in my life know what I go through on a daily basis. You understand how hard this life is. How I have to balance the harsh realities of being a double agent while also maintaining this persona of Sydney Bristow for my friends and for myself. All of this takes a toll on me – on my spirit, and you are the only person keeping me from going completely insane… Do you know how scary that is for me, Vaughn?"
I look at her and a number of replies freeze in my throat. I am not sure how to answer that question or if I should even try. She lets go of my hands and stands up, moving back to her post against the fence.
"Do you know how scary it is for me to care this much for you? I actually have a mantra - a mantra, Vaughn - that I repeat trying to convince myself not to care for you, because I am so fucking afraid that you will end up like Danny. That the image from my nightmares of you, dead in a bathtub, will become a reality."
"Syd-," I begin to say.
"No, hold on," she says in a controlled voice. "Let me finish this. I was very wrong last night. To take down SD-6, I absolutely need your help. But more importantly, to be Sydney Bristow, I need your love."
Her words floor me. I look at her standing across the small room from me and I can see the contrasting emotions of vulnerability and determination playing across her face. I can only imagine how much it took for her to say these words to me. I quickly stand up and cross the room to her, completely sure of what I need to say. Four long strides later and I am standing directly in front of her. I grab her hands like she had mine and say firmly, "Now, my turn."
"Sydney," I say quietly, her hands still wrapped in mine. "I love you more than you could ever imagine. I need you to know this. As your CIA handler, I will always do what I need to do to keep you safe. As for Sydney Bristow, I promise to love her and support her unconditionally."
I pull Sydney close to me, tears streaming down both of our faces. I hear her voice murmur softly from my shoulder, "So, where do we go from here?"
"I really have no idea, Sydney. Unfortunately, there is not a class at Langley on this." I hear her giggle softly. "I think we just continue to follow our hearts and hopefully one day, we can move past all of this craziness and have a normal life together. Until then, just know that I love you."
She releases herself from my arms and smiles. "Thank you Michael, for everything."
Smiling broadly, I walk back to my briefcase. I pull out a folder and say, "I know its not the most romantic gift given the circumstances, but I need to keep you safe."
"My counter-mission?" Sydney asks, taking the folder from my hands.
"Yeah. It is pretty simple so no need to review it here."
"Are you going to be on comms?"
"Of course," I say. "You can't escape me that easily." Glancing at my watch, I realize she is late for her flight. "You should go," I tell her.
Her smile gets bigger as she moves and kisses me lightly on the cheek. "My guardian angel," she whispers softly in my ear and turns to leave the warehouse.
"Good luck in Korea, Sydney," I call after her. I sit back down on my chair and close my eyes, listening to the sounds of her heels grow fainter until they disappear entirely. I take a deep breath and shake my head. What a couple of days… I wonder what I am going to tell Eric when he asks about how my 'drawing the line' conversation went.
I glance back at my watch and realize that I need to get back to the office also. As I stand up to leave, I notice that the bag Syd had brought with her is still on the floor. I pick it up and see that there is a note taped to the side with my name on it. I sit back down to open the bag, wondering what Sydney could have left for me. My eyes get big as I grasp the significance of the bag's contents. Inside is a small pot, and even in the dim light of the warehouse, I can see the vivid green of new shoots pushing through the dark soil. I rip open the note and read:
Michael,
I thought I would give you one of my plants to take care of in hopes that it would remind you of me, and the role you play in my life. I need your support, love, and protection just like this plant needs light, water and carbon dioxide. Take care of my baby, Vaughn, just like you take care of me.
All my love,
Sydney
I sigh deeply as the full meaning of the day's events sink in. In many ways my relationship with Sydney just became a hundred times easier, but in many ways it is now that much more complicated. I think back to what I told Sydney – I really don't know where we go from here, but I am sure we will figure it out together.
~The End~