Chapter 2
Francie's Restaurant
"So," Eric said, gulping down a swig of his beer, "what happened with Sydney this time."
"Why do you automatically think that any time I want to go out drinking, it has something to do with Sydney?" Vaughn asked.
"Because it usually does."
"Shut up," Vaughn said, downing a shot of whiskey, before continuing, "I left her sitting in the warehouse."
"You had her alone in the warehouse," Eric made his voice sound shocked, "and you didn't throw her down and make wild passionate love to her! What a surprise, man. I thought maybe something of actual interest happened."
"She held my hand," Vaughn said softly.
"What are you 12? I know I've called this thing between you and Sydney 'puppy love' but I wasn't being serious. You're all freaked because she touched your hand?" Eric laughed as he raised his hand, signaling the order of yet another beer from the bartender.
"Shut up, it wasn't like that."
"Then what was it like Mike? Like, Mike, that rhymes."
"Okay, you've had too much to drink."
"Nobody," Eric said with a smile followed and a swig, "can have too much to drink. Now continue."
"In France," Vaughn began, "I can't even describe what happened in France. One minute we were about to head up to a hotel room and the next we're done fighting Kane's men and she's acting like I have the plague. I messed things up by asking her to dinner, so I've been trying to make it right again. I fudged the report to Devlin, and since then Sydney and I have been acting like nothing happened. But tonight she innocently touches my hand to provide comfort and I freak out," he pauses for a moment, "I think she needs to be reassigned Eric."
"Mike, we've talked about this."
"I know and time after time we've shot down the idea. Maybe the fact that we have to keep having the same conversation is telling us something I wasn't ready to admit before. She needs to be reassigned before I get her killed."
"You are so depressing when you're drunk," Eric wise-cracked, "but you might be right. I should be Sydney's handler. I wouldn't mind all the late night warehouse meetings. Does she wear the wigs when you meet? I'd want her to wear the wigs."
"Could you stop joking for one minute? I'm being serious Eric."
"So am I, Mike. She made it pretty clear that nothing like what happened in France is ever going to happen again. So suck up your male pride, take a cold shower, and the next time you see "Agent Bristow" treat her like you would any other CIA officer."
"Yeah. I guess."
"Dude, you really got it bad."
"You're telling me man. You're telling me."
Francie's Restaurant, Kitchen
"You know I can't afford to pay you for helping me," Francie said to Sydney who was busy folding napkins, "even though I appreciate it." Sydney made no response. She picked up another napkin and began folding.
"Sydney?" Francie questioned, "did something happen?"
"What? Oh, sorry Francie, I guess I'm a little tired or something."
"I don't know why you think you can lie to me and get away with it? I know you Syd. It's that guy, isn't it? The one from work you're hung up on."
"No," Sydney said, following Francie out of the kitchen and into the dinning room, carrying the napkins she just folded. She began replacing the napkins at the tables while Francie laid down the silverware. "I told you that was over."
"So why do you look like your puppy just got run over by a truck?"
"Francie."
"You do, honey." She said, as the two moved closer to the bar. "You still like the guy from work, what's so wrong with that?"
"Everything."
Francie's Restaurant, Bar
"So why do you look like your puppy just got run over by a truck?"
"Francie."
Vaughn froze. He nudged Eric. Eric looked at him confused. "That's Sydney," Vaughn mouthed.
"You do, honey."
"You still like the guy from work, what's so wrong with that?"
Eric stifled an intoxicated laugh. He could answer the woman's question in 10 words or less. He was about to, actually, when Vaughn put his finger up to his lips, and willed Eric to stay silent.
"Everything."
Vaughn turned around on the bar stool to see Sydney with her back to him, talking with another woman, Francie he presumed. He quickly turned back around. Of all the bars Eric could have chosen, he had picked the one owned by Sydney's best friend.
"You're so dramatic Sydney. It's not like one date with the guy would kill you."
Eric snorted. Vaughn slapped him on the shoulder. Sydney didn't seem to notice, even though by now the girls had moved almost directly behind where Vaughn and Eric were seated. He was so close he could smell her perfume. He willed himself not to turn around again.
"I know Francie," Sydney hid a smile, "He left so fast tonight, like he couldn't wait to get away from me. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if he stayed around, for an hour or two, or all night."
"Maybe this is a good thing," Francie said with a smile, "You'd have to buy enough pop tarts for two. I know how you hate to share, and I'm not sure a lowly banker will be able to afford that. Oh, and you ate the last one this morning, just to let you know."
"Will and I were just talking about that," Sydney said laughing, "It was right before Michael called. That's weird."
At the bar, Eric nudged Vaughn, who was holding his breath as he eavesdropped on Sydney and Francie's conversation. "She called you Michael," Eric tried to whisper but because he was so intoxicated, the words came out louder than he expected. "You're girlfriend eats pop tarts, Mike. She probably wears footy pajama's too." He "whispered" and laughed. "Bartender, one more for me and my friend Mike!" He called out, loudly.
Sydney froze. She knew that voice. Weiss. She turned around slowly to face the bar. She took in the sight of two men sitting there, obviously intoxicated and obviously listening intently to her conversation. She had been two feet from him the entire time. He had heard everything she just said to Francie.
"Francie," She said loudly, "I feel like another Cosmo. Let's go over to the bar." She watched Vaughn tense up. She sauntered up behind him, and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hello, Vaughn."
Francie's Restaurant
"So," Eric said, gulping down a swig of his beer, "what happened with Sydney this time."
"Why do you automatically think that any time I want to go out drinking, it has something to do with Sydney?" Vaughn asked.
"Because it usually does."
"Shut up," Vaughn said, downing a shot of whiskey, before continuing, "I left her sitting in the warehouse."
"You had her alone in the warehouse," Eric made his voice sound shocked, "and you didn't throw her down and make wild passionate love to her! What a surprise, man. I thought maybe something of actual interest happened."
"She held my hand," Vaughn said softly.
"What are you 12? I know I've called this thing between you and Sydney 'puppy love' but I wasn't being serious. You're all freaked because she touched your hand?" Eric laughed as he raised his hand, signaling the order of yet another beer from the bartender.
"Shut up, it wasn't like that."
"Then what was it like Mike? Like, Mike, that rhymes."
"Okay, you've had too much to drink."
"Nobody," Eric said with a smile followed and a swig, "can have too much to drink. Now continue."
"In France," Vaughn began, "I can't even describe what happened in France. One minute we were about to head up to a hotel room and the next we're done fighting Kane's men and she's acting like I have the plague. I messed things up by asking her to dinner, so I've been trying to make it right again. I fudged the report to Devlin, and since then Sydney and I have been acting like nothing happened. But tonight she innocently touches my hand to provide comfort and I freak out," he pauses for a moment, "I think she needs to be reassigned Eric."
"Mike, we've talked about this."
"I know and time after time we've shot down the idea. Maybe the fact that we have to keep having the same conversation is telling us something I wasn't ready to admit before. She needs to be reassigned before I get her killed."
"You are so depressing when you're drunk," Eric wise-cracked, "but you might be right. I should be Sydney's handler. I wouldn't mind all the late night warehouse meetings. Does she wear the wigs when you meet? I'd want her to wear the wigs."
"Could you stop joking for one minute? I'm being serious Eric."
"So am I, Mike. She made it pretty clear that nothing like what happened in France is ever going to happen again. So suck up your male pride, take a cold shower, and the next time you see "Agent Bristow" treat her like you would any other CIA officer."
"Yeah. I guess."
"Dude, you really got it bad."
"You're telling me man. You're telling me."
Francie's Restaurant, Kitchen
"You know I can't afford to pay you for helping me," Francie said to Sydney who was busy folding napkins, "even though I appreciate it." Sydney made no response. She picked up another napkin and began folding.
"Sydney?" Francie questioned, "did something happen?"
"What? Oh, sorry Francie, I guess I'm a little tired or something."
"I don't know why you think you can lie to me and get away with it? I know you Syd. It's that guy, isn't it? The one from work you're hung up on."
"No," Sydney said, following Francie out of the kitchen and into the dinning room, carrying the napkins she just folded. She began replacing the napkins at the tables while Francie laid down the silverware. "I told you that was over."
"So why do you look like your puppy just got run over by a truck?"
"Francie."
"You do, honey." She said, as the two moved closer to the bar. "You still like the guy from work, what's so wrong with that?"
"Everything."
Francie's Restaurant, Bar
"So why do you look like your puppy just got run over by a truck?"
"Francie."
Vaughn froze. He nudged Eric. Eric looked at him confused. "That's Sydney," Vaughn mouthed.
"You do, honey."
"You still like the guy from work, what's so wrong with that?"
Eric stifled an intoxicated laugh. He could answer the woman's question in 10 words or less. He was about to, actually, when Vaughn put his finger up to his lips, and willed Eric to stay silent.
"Everything."
Vaughn turned around on the bar stool to see Sydney with her back to him, talking with another woman, Francie he presumed. He quickly turned back around. Of all the bars Eric could have chosen, he had picked the one owned by Sydney's best friend.
"You're so dramatic Sydney. It's not like one date with the guy would kill you."
Eric snorted. Vaughn slapped him on the shoulder. Sydney didn't seem to notice, even though by now the girls had moved almost directly behind where Vaughn and Eric were seated. He was so close he could smell her perfume. He willed himself not to turn around again.
"I know Francie," Sydney hid a smile, "He left so fast tonight, like he couldn't wait to get away from me. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if he stayed around, for an hour or two, or all night."
"Maybe this is a good thing," Francie said with a smile, "You'd have to buy enough pop tarts for two. I know how you hate to share, and I'm not sure a lowly banker will be able to afford that. Oh, and you ate the last one this morning, just to let you know."
"Will and I were just talking about that," Sydney said laughing, "It was right before Michael called. That's weird."
At the bar, Eric nudged Vaughn, who was holding his breath as he eavesdropped on Sydney and Francie's conversation. "She called you Michael," Eric tried to whisper but because he was so intoxicated, the words came out louder than he expected. "You're girlfriend eats pop tarts, Mike. She probably wears footy pajama's too." He "whispered" and laughed. "Bartender, one more for me and my friend Mike!" He called out, loudly.
Sydney froze. She knew that voice. Weiss. She turned around slowly to face the bar. She took in the sight of two men sitting there, obviously intoxicated and obviously listening intently to her conversation. She had been two feet from him the entire time. He had heard everything she just said to Francie.
"Francie," She said loudly, "I feel like another Cosmo. Let's go over to the bar." She watched Vaughn tense up. She sauntered up behind him, and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hello, Vaughn."