Sydney Bristow stood motionless under the circular silver showerhead,
allowing a steady spray of hot water to rain down upon her weary body.
She'd just come from an intense workout where she had pummeled a punching
bag into submission and pushed herself hard until every last ounce of
frustration had been drained from her day.
Tilting her head back, Sydney closed her eyes as the water cascaded down her face. She ran her hands back over her chestnut hair, letting out a sigh and sputtering as water passed her lips. She reached for her shampoo and let her mind wander as she lathered up her hair.
Her day had not been particularly bad. She'd arrived at SD-6 on time, greeted her co-workers and had even shared a joke with Dixon as they met by the coffee maker for their morning break. Sloane was out of the office for the day attending to personal business and Sydney felt relaxed, at least for a while, until her father pulled her into his office and clicked his all-too-familiar anti-bug pen before setting it on the desk between them.
"What is it, Dad?" Sydney sat tensely in a chair before him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Jack Bristow pursed his lips, a sure sign that Sydney was not going to like what he was about to say. "The CIA has intercepted a coded message from a terrorist organization in Tehran. It took some time to crack, but it appears it was intended to reach Mr. Sark."
"Sark," Sydney repeated his name aloud, her voice laced with disgust. "What did it say?"
Jack continued. "It's detailed, Sydney. For now I'll give you the abridged version. There are arms dealers within the terrorist faction that have acquired a nuclear device that apparently Sark has been seeking for some time. They have asked him to name a price."
"They want to sell it to him?" Sydney was incredulous. "They obviously don't know Sark very well."
"Exactly." Jack agreed just as the pen beeped. He grabbed it, clicked it again, and went on. "Sydney, the CIA believes that Sark is posing as an arms dealer to get valuable information from this faction so that he can then go in and steal the device. What we don't know is if he's sharing this information with Sloane or working on his own." "You want me to find out," Sydney nodded. "How am I supposed to do that without alerting Sark that somehow I'm on to him?"
"From the other end," Jack replied, his eyes dark. He did not like Sark. "You're going to Tehran tomorrow. Today you will spend time learning about this particular faction, where they're based and how best to infiltrate their highly secure compound."
Sydney sat still in the chair, her eyes darting to the pen as it beeped once again. She looked back up at her father's face. She nodded silently and stood, smoothing down her black skirt. There were things that no longer needed to be said. She knew where to go and who to see. She also knew that her father would invent a good cover story to explain her absence and that he would be with her, mentally if not physically, every step of the way.
What frustrated her most was having to work with anyone other than Vaughn.
At the hidden CIA command post, Sydney spent the afternoon with Weiss and Kendall. She liked Weiss well enough; he was informative and supportive and helped her to deflect any of Kendall's asinine directives. But he was not Vaughn. No one, no matter how professional or personable, could replace Vaughn.
Standing in the shower, her head a bit clearer now, Sydney allowed herself a smile at the thought of Agent Michael Vaughn. Because of his command of the language and knowledge of the countryside, he had been sent to France for six weeks to help out at a CIA post. Those six weeks had passed slowly for Sydney; she was glad that they were now ending and Vaughn would be home in a matter of days. She missed him for reasons work related and reasons she dared not speak aloud to anyone but herself.
Sydney reached for the faucet and turned the water off before stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in her favorite white terrycloth robe. She went to the sink and used the edge of her sleeve to wipe steam from mirror. She surveyed her reflection for a moment before combing her fingers through her wet hair. She was trying to decide what to do with it when she heard her cell phone ring, chirping out loudly from where it lay on her bed.
Sydney snapped off the bathroom light and quickly grabbed the phone, pausing to glance at the caller ID. Her eyes grew wide and she couldn't contain a smile as she answered the call.
"Vaughn?!" She exclaimed, her heart swelling as she heard his familiar voice answer back.
"Hey," He said, his voice giving away the fact that he was smiling, as well.
"When did you get back?" Sydney dropped to a sitting position on the bed and began playing with the belt on her robe.
"A couple of hours ago," Vaughn replied. He didn't waste any more time with small talk. "Can you meet me at the warehouse?"
Sydney was surprised but not disappointed. "Sure, I can be there in half an hour," She glanced up at the digital clock on her bedside table. It was just after seven o'clock. After Vaughn quickly agreed, Sydney hung up and sat there for a moment contemplating the call. It had to mean something that Vaughn was barely back into town after six weeks and he wanted to see her. He probably hadn't even had time yet to fully unpack.
As Sydney quickly dressed in jeans and a sweater, she tried not to think too much about what it could mean. Perhaps it was as simple as Vaughn wanting to be brought up to speed on the Tehran situation. Or, as Sydney secretly hoped was the case, perhaps Vaughn just wanted to see her after a month and a half of being away.
Sydney arrived at the warehouse on time and was not surprised to see Vaughn waiting for her. As she approached, she couldn't help the warmth that spread through her body. Seeing him again felt better than she could have anticipated, and he looked better than she remembered. He was facing away from her at first, but when he heard her approaching footsteps, he turned and raised his head, his green eyes searching her face as he smiled easily.
"Hey," He said to her for the second time that evening. He didn't know why he felt nervous as she came closer, smiling at him like an old, dear friend.
"Hey," Sydney echoed his greeting, stopping a few short feet from him. She wanted to go to him, to hug him, but she stopped herself when she didn't sense that he felt the same. The first moments were always the worst, the most awkward. Now they felt tortuous. They'd never spent this much time apart and didn't know how to act upon seeing each other again.
"How was France?" Sydney asked casually.
"It was Nice," Vaughn replied, his eyes hinting at a smile.
Sydney was momentarily confused. She was sure that Vaughn had told her he had been operating in the French countryside just outside of Dordogne. "I'm sorry," She said, shaking her head. "How was Nice, then?"
Vaughn couldn't help but chuckle. "No, I'm sorry," He said, his cheeks reddening. "I was trying to make a little joke. I shouldn't have even attempted it."
Sydney broke into a smile. "I get it. It was Nice, as in nice. Okay."
"Right," Vaughn nodded. "They're spelled the same. Well, alright then." He rocked back on his heels as he slid his hands in his pants pockets.
After a few very long moments, Sydney broke the silence by admitting the truth.
"I don't know why this feels so strange," She started.
"I missed you," Vaughn interrupted her, his eyes meeting hers once more.
Sydney didn't miss a beat. "I missed you, too," She confessed. She folded her arms over her chest, hugging herself although she suddenly didn't know why. Vaughn didn't notice.
"You look good. Refreshed, almost." He told her.
"Thanks," Sydney smiled. "I finally made it to the spa with Francie. It was wonderful." She gushed. "Life is suddenly easier to bear when you've been treated to a Swedish massage."
"There was a masseuse at the hotel, in France," Vaughn said. "I went once and I agree, nothing beats it." He suddenly perked up and reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat. "That reminds me. I missed your birthday while I was there. I got you something." He pulled out a small package wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper and handed it to Sydney. She accepted it with a smile and looked at it closely. There was a gold ribbon around the package and a label on the front written in French.
Sydney raised her eyes and gave Vaughn a questioning look. "This is perfumed soap," She said, as if he didn't already know. "From the hotel. You brought me hotel soap."
Vaughn shrugged, feigning innocence. "I didn't have time to really shop," He explained, the corners of his mouth beginning to curl up into a smile. The tension between them was broken, and Sydney felt free to tease him.
"You know, Agent Vaughn, protocol dictates that I cannot accept any gifts from my handler."
"It's not a gift," Vaughn teased right back. "It's hotel soap."
They both laughed just as Vaughn's cell phone rang, echoing sharply in the dark, cavernous warehouse.
Sydney sat down on the bench just inside the chain link fence of their meeting area as Vaughn answered his phone and carried on a short but tense conversation. Sydney couldn't guess who was on the other end; she was trying not to eavesdrop and instead busied herself with studying the label on her new bar of soap.
Vaughn ended the call and Sydney looked up. She was troubled by the stormy look in his eyes and rose to her feet, a concerned expression on her face. Before she could ask, Vaughn spoke.
"That was Kendall," He said, his voice bearing traces of fatigue. "He wants to see us both at the command post. Apparently there's been some movement in Tehran."
"Have you been briefed on the situation?" Sydney pocketed the bar of soap as she pulled out her car keys.
"Not fully. I was given a dossier to read on the plane on the way back from France, but it didn't give me all the details. How good are you at talking on the phone while you drive?" Vaughn fished his own car keys from his pocket with one hand as he clutched his cell phone with the other.
"I'll call you," Sydney immediately caught his drift and started for the door. Vaughn's voice calling out her name stopped her and she turned to face him once more.
His expression was soft. "It's good to see you," He said, his eyes all at once warm and secretive. There was no way he could reveal to her all he was thinking. It just wasn't the time, nor the place. He began to wonder if it ever would be.
*********
Tilting her head back, Sydney closed her eyes as the water cascaded down her face. She ran her hands back over her chestnut hair, letting out a sigh and sputtering as water passed her lips. She reached for her shampoo and let her mind wander as she lathered up her hair.
Her day had not been particularly bad. She'd arrived at SD-6 on time, greeted her co-workers and had even shared a joke with Dixon as they met by the coffee maker for their morning break. Sloane was out of the office for the day attending to personal business and Sydney felt relaxed, at least for a while, until her father pulled her into his office and clicked his all-too-familiar anti-bug pen before setting it on the desk between them.
"What is it, Dad?" Sydney sat tensely in a chair before him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Jack Bristow pursed his lips, a sure sign that Sydney was not going to like what he was about to say. "The CIA has intercepted a coded message from a terrorist organization in Tehran. It took some time to crack, but it appears it was intended to reach Mr. Sark."
"Sark," Sydney repeated his name aloud, her voice laced with disgust. "What did it say?"
Jack continued. "It's detailed, Sydney. For now I'll give you the abridged version. There are arms dealers within the terrorist faction that have acquired a nuclear device that apparently Sark has been seeking for some time. They have asked him to name a price."
"They want to sell it to him?" Sydney was incredulous. "They obviously don't know Sark very well."
"Exactly." Jack agreed just as the pen beeped. He grabbed it, clicked it again, and went on. "Sydney, the CIA believes that Sark is posing as an arms dealer to get valuable information from this faction so that he can then go in and steal the device. What we don't know is if he's sharing this information with Sloane or working on his own." "You want me to find out," Sydney nodded. "How am I supposed to do that without alerting Sark that somehow I'm on to him?"
"From the other end," Jack replied, his eyes dark. He did not like Sark. "You're going to Tehran tomorrow. Today you will spend time learning about this particular faction, where they're based and how best to infiltrate their highly secure compound."
Sydney sat still in the chair, her eyes darting to the pen as it beeped once again. She looked back up at her father's face. She nodded silently and stood, smoothing down her black skirt. There were things that no longer needed to be said. She knew where to go and who to see. She also knew that her father would invent a good cover story to explain her absence and that he would be with her, mentally if not physically, every step of the way.
What frustrated her most was having to work with anyone other than Vaughn.
At the hidden CIA command post, Sydney spent the afternoon with Weiss and Kendall. She liked Weiss well enough; he was informative and supportive and helped her to deflect any of Kendall's asinine directives. But he was not Vaughn. No one, no matter how professional or personable, could replace Vaughn.
Standing in the shower, her head a bit clearer now, Sydney allowed herself a smile at the thought of Agent Michael Vaughn. Because of his command of the language and knowledge of the countryside, he had been sent to France for six weeks to help out at a CIA post. Those six weeks had passed slowly for Sydney; she was glad that they were now ending and Vaughn would be home in a matter of days. She missed him for reasons work related and reasons she dared not speak aloud to anyone but herself.
Sydney reached for the faucet and turned the water off before stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in her favorite white terrycloth robe. She went to the sink and used the edge of her sleeve to wipe steam from mirror. She surveyed her reflection for a moment before combing her fingers through her wet hair. She was trying to decide what to do with it when she heard her cell phone ring, chirping out loudly from where it lay on her bed.
Sydney snapped off the bathroom light and quickly grabbed the phone, pausing to glance at the caller ID. Her eyes grew wide and she couldn't contain a smile as she answered the call.
"Vaughn?!" She exclaimed, her heart swelling as she heard his familiar voice answer back.
"Hey," He said, his voice giving away the fact that he was smiling, as well.
"When did you get back?" Sydney dropped to a sitting position on the bed and began playing with the belt on her robe.
"A couple of hours ago," Vaughn replied. He didn't waste any more time with small talk. "Can you meet me at the warehouse?"
Sydney was surprised but not disappointed. "Sure, I can be there in half an hour," She glanced up at the digital clock on her bedside table. It was just after seven o'clock. After Vaughn quickly agreed, Sydney hung up and sat there for a moment contemplating the call. It had to mean something that Vaughn was barely back into town after six weeks and he wanted to see her. He probably hadn't even had time yet to fully unpack.
As Sydney quickly dressed in jeans and a sweater, she tried not to think too much about what it could mean. Perhaps it was as simple as Vaughn wanting to be brought up to speed on the Tehran situation. Or, as Sydney secretly hoped was the case, perhaps Vaughn just wanted to see her after a month and a half of being away.
Sydney arrived at the warehouse on time and was not surprised to see Vaughn waiting for her. As she approached, she couldn't help the warmth that spread through her body. Seeing him again felt better than she could have anticipated, and he looked better than she remembered. He was facing away from her at first, but when he heard her approaching footsteps, he turned and raised his head, his green eyes searching her face as he smiled easily.
"Hey," He said to her for the second time that evening. He didn't know why he felt nervous as she came closer, smiling at him like an old, dear friend.
"Hey," Sydney echoed his greeting, stopping a few short feet from him. She wanted to go to him, to hug him, but she stopped herself when she didn't sense that he felt the same. The first moments were always the worst, the most awkward. Now they felt tortuous. They'd never spent this much time apart and didn't know how to act upon seeing each other again.
"How was France?" Sydney asked casually.
"It was Nice," Vaughn replied, his eyes hinting at a smile.
Sydney was momentarily confused. She was sure that Vaughn had told her he had been operating in the French countryside just outside of Dordogne. "I'm sorry," She said, shaking her head. "How was Nice, then?"
Vaughn couldn't help but chuckle. "No, I'm sorry," He said, his cheeks reddening. "I was trying to make a little joke. I shouldn't have even attempted it."
Sydney broke into a smile. "I get it. It was Nice, as in nice. Okay."
"Right," Vaughn nodded. "They're spelled the same. Well, alright then." He rocked back on his heels as he slid his hands in his pants pockets.
After a few very long moments, Sydney broke the silence by admitting the truth.
"I don't know why this feels so strange," She started.
"I missed you," Vaughn interrupted her, his eyes meeting hers once more.
Sydney didn't miss a beat. "I missed you, too," She confessed. She folded her arms over her chest, hugging herself although she suddenly didn't know why. Vaughn didn't notice.
"You look good. Refreshed, almost." He told her.
"Thanks," Sydney smiled. "I finally made it to the spa with Francie. It was wonderful." She gushed. "Life is suddenly easier to bear when you've been treated to a Swedish massage."
"There was a masseuse at the hotel, in France," Vaughn said. "I went once and I agree, nothing beats it." He suddenly perked up and reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat. "That reminds me. I missed your birthday while I was there. I got you something." He pulled out a small package wrapped in delicate pink tissue paper and handed it to Sydney. She accepted it with a smile and looked at it closely. There was a gold ribbon around the package and a label on the front written in French.
Sydney raised her eyes and gave Vaughn a questioning look. "This is perfumed soap," She said, as if he didn't already know. "From the hotel. You brought me hotel soap."
Vaughn shrugged, feigning innocence. "I didn't have time to really shop," He explained, the corners of his mouth beginning to curl up into a smile. The tension between them was broken, and Sydney felt free to tease him.
"You know, Agent Vaughn, protocol dictates that I cannot accept any gifts from my handler."
"It's not a gift," Vaughn teased right back. "It's hotel soap."
They both laughed just as Vaughn's cell phone rang, echoing sharply in the dark, cavernous warehouse.
Sydney sat down on the bench just inside the chain link fence of their meeting area as Vaughn answered his phone and carried on a short but tense conversation. Sydney couldn't guess who was on the other end; she was trying not to eavesdrop and instead busied herself with studying the label on her new bar of soap.
Vaughn ended the call and Sydney looked up. She was troubled by the stormy look in his eyes and rose to her feet, a concerned expression on her face. Before she could ask, Vaughn spoke.
"That was Kendall," He said, his voice bearing traces of fatigue. "He wants to see us both at the command post. Apparently there's been some movement in Tehran."
"Have you been briefed on the situation?" Sydney pocketed the bar of soap as she pulled out her car keys.
"Not fully. I was given a dossier to read on the plane on the way back from France, but it didn't give me all the details. How good are you at talking on the phone while you drive?" Vaughn fished his own car keys from his pocket with one hand as he clutched his cell phone with the other.
"I'll call you," Sydney immediately caught his drift and started for the door. Vaughn's voice calling out her name stopped her and she turned to face him once more.
His expression was soft. "It's good to see you," He said, his eyes all at once warm and secretive. There was no way he could reveal to her all he was thinking. It just wasn't the time, nor the place. He began to wonder if it ever would be.
*********