Author : Amelie (user Iselia)
Email: amelia_aurora(AT)hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Anything Alias is not mine, never will be.
Distribution: Want it? Take it! Just let me know! (
Rating: PG13
Take me out tonight Because I want to see people and I want to see life
-There Is A Light That Never Goes Out, The Smiths
The dinner had been nothing spectacular. No heartfelt words had been spoken, no wounds had been tended to and no hurt had been eased. The conversation had been dotted with pointed silences, surprise and looks that no longer needed to be hidden. After the plates were cleared for dessert, things became too much. Vaughn couldn't handle the unbearable politeness. They knew each other better than this, they had to. First dates were always awkward, but was it even a first date; maybe it was their last if he understood Sydney's run-away correctly.
"Let's get out of here," he whispered. He watched as Sydney's brows shot up; her cheeks coloured and she struggled to hide a smirk. Perhaps the phrase famous in bars the world over had been the wrong choice of wording. He struggled to amend it, the his vocabulary having deserted him, leaving instead a barrage of once-inappropriate mental images.
"I don't mean-," he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut. "We really need to discuss some things, Syd,"
She glanced up and looked him in the eye. Without bothering to mask what she felt, she nodded once. Without a second thought, she gathered her things and walked to the door. As the turned towards the pier - not 'their' pier, but once she found equally as comforting and familiar- his hand took hers. Softly, almost tentatively, his fingertips slid across her palm and through her fingers. She felt herself spread apart as his fingers moved between hers, finally clamping down and squeezing her hand comfortingly. The longed-for contact was enough to make her sigh in contentment.
The lights of the adjoining strip glittered on the black water. On the pier Sydney and Vaughn stood, leaning against the wood. It was smooth and shining, polished by a thousand hands and hips.
"So."
Sydney pressed her lips together. "Yeah,"
Vaughn sighed. "Weiss said he.talked to you today," he looked down at her. "What did he say?"
"Oh, Vaughn, he was just concerned-"
"Sydney, whatever he said-"
Sydney grabbed his hand. "He was right," she smiled slightly at his look of surprise. "I'm sorry about today. I was rude,"
"You had stuff on your mind,"
She fought the urge to be touched by his understanding. He was sweet, gentle and forgiving. And she felt like she was using this. "That's no excuse, Vaughn," she sighed. Things were becoming awkward and emotion- charged. She looked desperately to diffuse the tension. "It's weird being out here in the open. Talking to each other, looking at each other.I used to wonder if this would ever happen. Whether I'd die first,"
The look of terrified concern made her sting. If she knew he'd react like that, she wouldn't have told him. She hated pity. Loathed it.
"Syd-"
"Only sometimes," she said lightly, backtracking. This was meant to be a light talk, not a deep and meaningful. "Things got pretty heavy back there. I never had time to unwind. I never knew how to unwind. My idea of relaxing was punching a bag instead of a face,"
Vaughn sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Still, she frustrated him through his helplessness. "I'm sorry-"
"For what?" she asked. "You didn't put a foot wrong, Vaughn. You were there, providing me with enough hope without overstepping the boundaries we'd set."
Despite the unresolved tension between them over the years, Vaughn had provided the only light in the tunnel. A 'normal' life, that too, but what was normal when you still had to lie about your past? Vaughn was a possibility; he was potential for greatness, something she had to strive for. Ending it early, by running away or through more permanent means, would have left her with nothing; no revenge, no hope, no love, no life. But, when the fight became less about Danny and more about Vaughn, her focus shifted. She wasn't fighting fuelled by anger anymore; she was fuelled by desire, by hope, by promise. The anger had been quelled; it was still there, but it didn't burn at her anymore. This, being driven by love, if that was what it was, was healthier. She didn't fear the fight anymore. She feared the fight ending before it should.
She had hated every day. Every day she wondered whether today would be the day she was discovered, the day she died. She lived every day for the next, and the next, and the next. Vaughn embodied the life that awaited her. She just had to get to him first.
"I always wished I could do more," he admitted sadly. "I felt so useless, sitting at a desk writing reports while you put your life on the line. You willingly put yourself in jeopardy whenever anyone asked. You'd leave with a smile on your face, looking so confident and I'd be sitting in LA, petrified and in perfect safety,"
"I'd usually be scared, but I used to think 'Vaughn wouldn't send me to my death'. I sometimes, at the start, used to imagine dying on a mission. Finally having an end to the uncertainty, to the waiting," he moved to interrupt, wanting to say something, anything to reassure them both. She spoke over him. "But after awhile, what I wanted at the end outweighed the every day pain."
She stepped closer to him and wrapped her hand around his upper arm, pulling it closer to her. "I'm worried that I'll never have a normal life. I'm worried that we've put each other on a pedestal and will be disappointed. I'm worried that."
Her voice faded into the ocean waves and night sky. "What, Syd?" he pressed, "What are you-"
"What if, after all these years, we still can't be together?"
Their eyes met; terror and confusion, green and brown, relief and trepidation.
Vaughn turned to face her. His hands ran over her collarbone, across her shoulders and rested at last above her elbows. His thumbs drifted up and down on her bare skin, letting them both just feel. Their gaze locked, and a smile emerged on his face. Slowly, so slowly, her fragility faded at his touch. This was right. This was right and this was true and this was now.
"We can be," he said. "We can be, and even if there is every anything, anyone, that says we can't be, we'll beat it, just like we beat SD-6. Together," his voice was firm, and his grip tightened. "We'll fight them together, Syd, and we'll win. We'll do anything together."
She pushed up on her toes, raising her face closer to his. Her hands travelled swiftly up his sides and held his face gently. She pushed her fingertips into his hair. A stunning, triumphant smile, spilled onto her face. After four long, heart-shattering, bone-breaking years, they could be together. She could be his and he hers. At last. They were so close that if he just moved slightly, their lips, noses, eyelashes, would touch. His lips tingled.
"I love you," she breathed, before their lips met. Who kissed whom, they didn't know. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except skin on skin, mouths on mouths.
Later that night, as Michael held Sydney in his arms, on his bed, they said those words again and again and again. Because they could. Because they wanted to. Because they were free at last.
But 'free' is such a relative term.
She awoke naked beneath a thin white sheet. Unaccustomed to her surroundings, she listened. From the door on her left, she could hear the splashes of water and the sound of something being expelled from a compression can. Shaving cream, probably. She shivered and glanced at the ceiling fan. She was loathe to turn it off; the soft whirring was a pleasant sound in the early morning calm. Instead, she reached to the foot of the bed and pulled the navy and white striped doona over her. It smelt of Vaughn, and she nuzzled her face into it. Had she wanted to, she could probably nuzzle him directly, but the bed was too comfortable, and it was nice to just be in his bedroom. With him showering in the next room, it felt so comfortable and so very normal that she wondered what it would take to get her to leave.
As the clock ticked onto seven o'clock, the alarm buzzed. Sydney automatically switched it off, and with a languorous stretch dragged herself from the bed. She stood at the window and wrapped herself in the sheet. From Vaughn's window, you could see across a handful of backyards, all full of plants and greenery. A few abandoned, sun-bleached balls lay by fences and lazy dogs made their morning ambles across dewy lawns.
The door swung open abruptly and she heard Vaughn begin to apologise. "Sorry, I should have turned the alarm off,"
She turned around and smiled sweetly. "I was already awake," she said. "I love this room," Without a thought, she reached her hand out to him. He took it and moved closer. His hair was wet and dripping unchecked down his chest. The water transferred to her face as she leant against him.
"I have to be at work in three quarters of an hour,"
"I know. So do I," he nodded to the bathroom. "Use mine, no use going home. I'll.try to iron your shirt and suit,"
Sydney nodded. As she stepped into the shower, she let her mind wander. Everything that had previously been forbidden by the CIA was still forbidden; protocol still existed and Agent Vaughn technically remained Agent Bristow's handler. As she rummaged through his vanity in search of anything that would make her more presentable, she wondered whether she would soon be unemployed. No bank, no SD-6 and no degree meant no money. Thanks to her mother, she no longer knew if she wanted anything to do with teaching literature. She stared into the mirror, uncertain of what was staring back at her.
Take me out tonight Because I want to see people and I want to see life
-There Is A Light That Never Goes Out, The Smiths
The dinner had been nothing spectacular. No heartfelt words had been spoken, no wounds had been tended to and no hurt had been eased. The conversation had been dotted with pointed silences, surprise and looks that no longer needed to be hidden. After the plates were cleared for dessert, things became too much. Vaughn couldn't handle the unbearable politeness. They knew each other better than this, they had to. First dates were always awkward, but was it even a first date; maybe it was their last if he understood Sydney's run-away correctly.
"Let's get out of here," he whispered. He watched as Sydney's brows shot up; her cheeks coloured and she struggled to hide a smirk. Perhaps the phrase famous in bars the world over had been the wrong choice of wording. He struggled to amend it, the his vocabulary having deserted him, leaving instead a barrage of once-inappropriate mental images.
"I don't mean-," he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut. "We really need to discuss some things, Syd,"
She glanced up and looked him in the eye. Without bothering to mask what she felt, she nodded once. Without a second thought, she gathered her things and walked to the door. As the turned towards the pier - not 'their' pier, but once she found equally as comforting and familiar- his hand took hers. Softly, almost tentatively, his fingertips slid across her palm and through her fingers. She felt herself spread apart as his fingers moved between hers, finally clamping down and squeezing her hand comfortingly. The longed-for contact was enough to make her sigh in contentment.
The lights of the adjoining strip glittered on the black water. On the pier Sydney and Vaughn stood, leaning against the wood. It was smooth and shining, polished by a thousand hands and hips.
"So."
Sydney pressed her lips together. "Yeah,"
Vaughn sighed. "Weiss said he.talked to you today," he looked down at her. "What did he say?"
"Oh, Vaughn, he was just concerned-"
"Sydney, whatever he said-"
Sydney grabbed his hand. "He was right," she smiled slightly at his look of surprise. "I'm sorry about today. I was rude,"
"You had stuff on your mind,"
She fought the urge to be touched by his understanding. He was sweet, gentle and forgiving. And she felt like she was using this. "That's no excuse, Vaughn," she sighed. Things were becoming awkward and emotion- charged. She looked desperately to diffuse the tension. "It's weird being out here in the open. Talking to each other, looking at each other.I used to wonder if this would ever happen. Whether I'd die first,"
The look of terrified concern made her sting. If she knew he'd react like that, she wouldn't have told him. She hated pity. Loathed it.
"Syd-"
"Only sometimes," she said lightly, backtracking. This was meant to be a light talk, not a deep and meaningful. "Things got pretty heavy back there. I never had time to unwind. I never knew how to unwind. My idea of relaxing was punching a bag instead of a face,"
Vaughn sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Still, she frustrated him through his helplessness. "I'm sorry-"
"For what?" she asked. "You didn't put a foot wrong, Vaughn. You were there, providing me with enough hope without overstepping the boundaries we'd set."
Despite the unresolved tension between them over the years, Vaughn had provided the only light in the tunnel. A 'normal' life, that too, but what was normal when you still had to lie about your past? Vaughn was a possibility; he was potential for greatness, something she had to strive for. Ending it early, by running away or through more permanent means, would have left her with nothing; no revenge, no hope, no love, no life. But, when the fight became less about Danny and more about Vaughn, her focus shifted. She wasn't fighting fuelled by anger anymore; she was fuelled by desire, by hope, by promise. The anger had been quelled; it was still there, but it didn't burn at her anymore. This, being driven by love, if that was what it was, was healthier. She didn't fear the fight anymore. She feared the fight ending before it should.
She had hated every day. Every day she wondered whether today would be the day she was discovered, the day she died. She lived every day for the next, and the next, and the next. Vaughn embodied the life that awaited her. She just had to get to him first.
"I always wished I could do more," he admitted sadly. "I felt so useless, sitting at a desk writing reports while you put your life on the line. You willingly put yourself in jeopardy whenever anyone asked. You'd leave with a smile on your face, looking so confident and I'd be sitting in LA, petrified and in perfect safety,"
"I'd usually be scared, but I used to think 'Vaughn wouldn't send me to my death'. I sometimes, at the start, used to imagine dying on a mission. Finally having an end to the uncertainty, to the waiting," he moved to interrupt, wanting to say something, anything to reassure them both. She spoke over him. "But after awhile, what I wanted at the end outweighed the every day pain."
She stepped closer to him and wrapped her hand around his upper arm, pulling it closer to her. "I'm worried that I'll never have a normal life. I'm worried that we've put each other on a pedestal and will be disappointed. I'm worried that."
Her voice faded into the ocean waves and night sky. "What, Syd?" he pressed, "What are you-"
"What if, after all these years, we still can't be together?"
Their eyes met; terror and confusion, green and brown, relief and trepidation.
Vaughn turned to face her. His hands ran over her collarbone, across her shoulders and rested at last above her elbows. His thumbs drifted up and down on her bare skin, letting them both just feel. Their gaze locked, and a smile emerged on his face. Slowly, so slowly, her fragility faded at his touch. This was right. This was right and this was true and this was now.
"We can be," he said. "We can be, and even if there is every anything, anyone, that says we can't be, we'll beat it, just like we beat SD-6. Together," his voice was firm, and his grip tightened. "We'll fight them together, Syd, and we'll win. We'll do anything together."
She pushed up on her toes, raising her face closer to his. Her hands travelled swiftly up his sides and held his face gently. She pushed her fingertips into his hair. A stunning, triumphant smile, spilled onto her face. After four long, heart-shattering, bone-breaking years, they could be together. She could be his and he hers. At last. They were so close that if he just moved slightly, their lips, noses, eyelashes, would touch. His lips tingled.
"I love you," she breathed, before their lips met. Who kissed whom, they didn't know. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except skin on skin, mouths on mouths.
Later that night, as Michael held Sydney in his arms, on his bed, they said those words again and again and again. Because they could. Because they wanted to. Because they were free at last.
But 'free' is such a relative term.
She awoke naked beneath a thin white sheet. Unaccustomed to her surroundings, she listened. From the door on her left, she could hear the splashes of water and the sound of something being expelled from a compression can. Shaving cream, probably. She shivered and glanced at the ceiling fan. She was loathe to turn it off; the soft whirring was a pleasant sound in the early morning calm. Instead, she reached to the foot of the bed and pulled the navy and white striped doona over her. It smelt of Vaughn, and she nuzzled her face into it. Had she wanted to, she could probably nuzzle him directly, but the bed was too comfortable, and it was nice to just be in his bedroom. With him showering in the next room, it felt so comfortable and so very normal that she wondered what it would take to get her to leave.
As the clock ticked onto seven o'clock, the alarm buzzed. Sydney automatically switched it off, and with a languorous stretch dragged herself from the bed. She stood at the window and wrapped herself in the sheet. From Vaughn's window, you could see across a handful of backyards, all full of plants and greenery. A few abandoned, sun-bleached balls lay by fences and lazy dogs made their morning ambles across dewy lawns.
The door swung open abruptly and she heard Vaughn begin to apologise. "Sorry, I should have turned the alarm off,"
She turned around and smiled sweetly. "I was already awake," she said. "I love this room," Without a thought, she reached her hand out to him. He took it and moved closer. His hair was wet and dripping unchecked down his chest. The water transferred to her face as she leant against him.
"I have to be at work in three quarters of an hour,"
"I know. So do I," he nodded to the bathroom. "Use mine, no use going home. I'll.try to iron your shirt and suit,"
Sydney nodded. As she stepped into the shower, she let her mind wander. Everything that had previously been forbidden by the CIA was still forbidden; protocol still existed and Agent Vaughn technically remained Agent Bristow's handler. As she rummaged through his vanity in search of anything that would make her more presentable, she wondered whether she would soon be unemployed. No bank, no SD-6 and no degree meant no money. Thanks to her mother, she no longer knew if she wanted anything to do with teaching literature. She stared into the mirror, uncertain of what was staring back at her.