Chapter Five: Into the Gentle Night
Holding a stack of printouts, the young agent knocked tentatively on Kendall's door. Getting no response, he opened the door far enough to stick his head in and take a look around. Kendall was sitting at his formica- topped desk, his phone to his ear. He glanced up and noticed the agent just as he was about to retreat.
"Baylor, wait," Kendall called out. The young agent stopped and opened the door a bit wider to allow himself to step inside the small office. Kendall turned his attention back to the phone. "Rich, that's a valid argument, and I'd love to get into it with you, but at this moment I have more pressing issues. I'll call you later." With that, he dropped the receiver into the cradle and lifted his steely blue eyes to the young man who stood before him. "What?"
Baylor nervously shuffled through the sheaf of papers in his hand. He was new to this ops center and new to Kendall's command. He had yet to fully control his fear at dealing with the man whose difficult reputation preceded him.
"Sir," Baylor swallowed hard. "Was Irina Derevko surfing the internet yesterday?"
Kendall did not seem at all surprised by the question, which caught Baylor off guard. "Yes, she was. Why?"
Baylor shuffled the papers again until he found the appropriate page. "Well, sir, I assume she was being monitored, right?"
Kendall was losing patience, but he held his tongue. "Yes, she was, Baylor. She was allowed to work on a computer to try to trace the origin of the GPS chip used in the device agents Vaughn and Bristow recently acquired. There was another agent with her the whole time."
"The whole time?" Baylor echoed, incredulous.
"Yes, except for when he went to get Derevko a cup of coffee," Kendall replied, his voice deepening as his curiosity increased. "But we weren't concerned because she was chained to the work station and had two US Marshals within five feet of her." He motioned towards the documents in Baylor's hands. "And because of those, the computer security dumps. We'd know if she did anything unauthorized because everything she does is recorded and then printed out."
"Well, sir, something very interesting printed out," Baylor held up one of the sheets, his eyebrows raised. "Were you aware that Derevko went to an internet florist, sent someone a bouquet of one dozen yellow roses, and had it charged to the CIA?"
"What?" Kendall rose slowly to his feet, his face registering surprise and then anger. He let out a deep breath before asking the question to which he believed he already knew the answer. "Who did she send them to?"
Baylor took a moment to consult the document, then he looked up, his eyes reflecting mild amusement. "Sydney Bristow."
Sydney emerged from her bedroom feeling warm and slightly dazed, her head still buzzy from hours of deep sleep. She wrapped herself in a favorite oatmeal colored sweater and headed for the kitchen, her stomach rumbling, impatient for food.
At the dining room table, Will Tippin was working at his laptop, a well- chewed pencil between his teeth. His eyes danced from notebook to computer screen as he fingers flew over the keys, pausing only briefly to flip pages or absently ruffle his short blonde hair.
When Sydney entered the room on her way to the kitchen, Will stopped and sat back in the chair, spitting the pencil into his hand.
"Hey, Syd," He said affectionately. "How are you?" His voice was warm with compassion as Sydney stopped next to the table, raising her eyes to meet his.
"I've been better, Will," She replied, honesty making her voice tight. "But I'm glad I slept. What time is it?"
Will consulted his watch. "Almost five. Francie left for the restaurant about an hour ago, and I figured it'd be safe to work out here at the table on some of the research I'm doing for Vaughn."
At the mention of his name, Sydney almost involuntarily turned away, a shadow crossing her eyes. She started towards the kitchen again, rubbing her stomach as she went.
Will followed her with his eyes. "If you're hungry, there's some left over Kung Pao chicken in the fridge," He offered. He listened as Sydney opened and closed the refrigerator and watched as she came back to the dining room with a Chinese take-out container in one hand and chopsticks in the other.
"I think sometimes it tastes better cold," Sydney explained, answering a question Will had not asked. She both did and did not want to discuss Vaughn, but she felt that the subject would eventually be unavoidable.
Will got up from the table and disappeared into the front hall for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a bouquet of one dozen yellow roses in a clear glass vase. Sydney looked up and nearly dropped her chopsticks along with a broccoli floret she was lifting to her mouth.
"These came for you," Will set them on the table and handed the card to Sydney. "I didn't want to wake you, but Francie and I have been dying to know who they're from." His blue eyes bore a mischievous twinkle as he dropped back into his chair, picking up his pencil and tucking it behind his ear.
Sydney rose from her seat and reached for the vase, turning it to get a better view of the lovely flowers. She buried her face in their blooms, inhaling the deep aroma and smiling. She had a suspicion who had sent them as she slid her fingernail along the edge of the envelope, slitting it open. After reading it to herself, she read it aloud to Will.
"It says, `Be strong, Gentle Heart. Be true.'" Sydney nodded and then looked up at Will with wet eyes. "My mother," She told him, her suspicion confirmed.
Will was dumbfounded, his eyes wide. "Your mother?" He echoed in disbelief. "How is that possible?"
"With Irina Derevko, anything is possible," Sydney dropped the card onto the tabletop and slid back into her seat, wrapping herself tighter in the cozy sweater and swallowing tears. She picked up her chopsticks and went back to eating, avoiding Will's eyes as he searched for understanding.
"How do you know, though?" Will pestered, closing the laptop and leaning forward, his curiosity getting the best of him. "The note isn't signed."
"The day I was born," Sydney answered, her voice small. "My mother was out buying yellow roses when she went into labor. Up until the time she disappeared, she bought yellow roses every year on my birthday." Sydney paused to retrieve a pea pod that had slipped from the chopsticks. She had Will's undivided attention as she went on. "And she called me `Gentle Heart' once, in kindergarten, when we found a dead baby bird on our back porch and I cried about it for hours."
Will was speechless. His eyes never left Sydney's face as he watched her struggle to remain in control of her emotions. Several minutes of silence passed while Sydney ate, although her appetite was not what it usually was. Will tried to get back to his work, opening the computer once again, but his concern for Sydney was stealing his ability to concentrate.
"What happened yesterday, Syd?" Will asked suddenly. He got up from his seat and walked around the table before pulling out a chair next to Sydney and sitting down. "You got back so late; I wanted to talk to you, but I wasn't sure you'd be up for it."
Sydney looked up from the cold Kung Pao and into the face of her trusted friend, the only friend she had who knew all her secrets, who understood her truths, and who never held a single one against her. She reached out to squeeze his hand, and then in a halting voice, she told him everything.
When she was finished with it all, right down to the part where she had fallen, exhausted, into her father's supportive arms, Sydney pushed the take-out box into the center of the table and put her head down on her arms. Will stroked her soft, chestnut hair, smoothing it down over her shoulders.
"Where did Vaughn go?" Will asked the question that had echoed through Sydney's head all day, the one question for which she did not have a good answer.
Sydney didn't raise her head. "I don't know," She said in a muffled voice. Will could not tell if she was crying. "I haven't heard from him."
"Have you tried to call him?"
"No," Sydney sighed, turning her head to the side. Her eyes were red, but she was not crying. She was convinced she had shed enough tears so far to last her a week. "I spent a few hours with my father last night, and he told me that it's possible our phone conversations are being monitored."
"That's crazy," Will declared, getting up from his chair and heading towards the kitchen. "Can they do that? You're not criminals."
"No, but we did endanger the life of an agent of the CIA," Sydney sat up. "We could have caused an international incident had those men run off into the airport with their guns blazing. It could've been so much worse."
Will returned to the room with a beer for himself and a can of diet Coke for Sydney. She smiled at him gratefully and popped the can open just before taking a long, thirsty swallow.
"I guess I don't understand how these things work," Will slid a hand into the pocket of his jeans. He shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense to me that you guys are being punished when ultimately you protected the device-thingy that everyone was so up in arms about."
"An agent was shot," Sydney reminded him.
"I know," Will sighed after taking a swig of his beer. "I know that, and I also know that you and Vaughn should not be kept apart." He was just as surprised by his words as Sydney was. She had known for quite some time that Will carried a torch for her that had only burned brighter once he had learned the truth. And now, to be advocating that she and Vaughn be together - Sydney was touched.
"Will," She got to her feet to face him. "Thank you. For being my friend, and, well - for so much I can't even put into words."
Will readily embraced her, squeezing her in a tight hug. When they parted, he set his beer down on the table and clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms as he grinned.
"It would appear to me, Syd," He said, his voice taking on a mysterious lilt. "That if you and Vaughn can't talk on the phone, then you'll just have to talk in person." When Sydney opened her mouth to protest, Will held up a hand to stop her. "I know what you're going to say, and believe me when I say I agree, it does sound crazy. But I have an idea - at least hear me out."
An hour later, after a hastily hatched plan and an even more hasty shower, Sydney was curled up on the back seat of Will's Bronco, hidden from view. On the floor beside her were a long blonde wig and two brown paper sacks of "groceries", which in actuality were filled with nothing more than stacks of old newspapers.
Sydney tried her best to relax. She couldn't decide what was making her heart pound the way it was - attempting to pull off this plan or her deep desire to see Vaughn again. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the cool vinyl seat, losing herself momentarily in the song on the radio. She was startled back to the present when the car came to a halt and Will cut off the ignition.
"We're here," He said, turning in his seat to look at Sydney. She cautiously lifted her head to see out the side window, thankful for the tinted glass. "There doesn't seem to be many people around," Will observed, looking left and right at the parking lot and road leading to it in front of Vaughn's apartment building. It was almost dark, the twilight fading as the moon rose in the eastern sky.
Without a sound, Sydney sat up in the back seat and pulled a large barrette from her pocket. She skillfully tied up her long hair and secured it against her scalp before pulling on the blonde wig, careful to press it as tight to her head as possible. She didn't have the time now to prepare as she usually did before her missions, but she didn't want that to be an excuse for her disguise to appear shoddy.
In the driver's seat, Will had pulled out a map of Los Angeles and a pen light and pretended to be searching for something on the large, unfolded page. Every once in a while he glanced over at the front door of the building, waiting to see if anyone approached. The plan was simple: Vaughn's building was secure and required anyone wishing to enter to either have a key or be buzzed in by a resident. Sydney was going to attempt to get herself inside while the door was being opened for someone else.
"I'm ready," Sydney said quietly, hoisting the grocery bags into her arms and opening the car door just enough to be able to nudge it with her elbow when the time was right.
Will reached up and disabled the interior lights so they could remain inconspicuous. He glanced up at the door once more and immediately leaned across the passenger seat for a better view.
"Syd, there's a guy walking towards the door with keys in his hand," Will hurriedly said. "Go now."
"Thanks, Will," Sydney whispered as she pushed the door open with her elbow and quickly stepped onto the pavement. She shoved the car door closed with her hip and then jogged a few feet until she was close enough to call out to the man who was just sliding his key into the front door.
"You hoo!" Sydney called out, her voice thick with syrupy southern twang. "Hey there," She flashed the man a winning smile as he glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Would you mind holding that door for me? I just can't get to my keys right now."
The man smiled back and pulled the door open, stepping aside to let Sydney pass. As she did, she winked and thanked him sweetly. "My pleasure, miss," He nodded at her as she went by and headed for the stairs.
Taking them two at a time, Sydney paused when she reached the first landing and pressed her back against the wall. She could hear the man checking his mail, the metallic clang of the lobby mailbox opening and closing echoing in the narrow corridor. She held her breath and waited to see if the man was going to take the stairs. If so, she had to hide somewhere or go up to the third floor and hope he didn't follow her there. She was not going to risk letting anyone see her go into Vaughn's apartment.
To her relief, Sydney heard the keys in the door of a first floor apartment. She waited a few breathless moments more until she was certain she was not going to be followed before continuing up to the second floor. Once there, she poked her head into the hallway. Finding it deserted, Sydney stepped silently down the hallway until she reached Vaughn's door. She took a deep breath, raised her hand, and knocked.
On the other side of the door, Vaughn was stretched out on the couch, a cold beer in one hand and the remote control in the other. He was restlessly channel surfing, his mind unable to concentrate on any one thing for any length of time. He had never changed out of his clothes from the day and the fact that he was putting awful creases in his best pair of suit trousers never crossed his mind.
A knock on the door roused him from his mindless state, and he cautiously sat up, listening carefully. The knock sounded again, this time slightly more persistent. Vaughn set his beer on the remote on the wooden coffee table and got to his feet.
Leaning in to peer out the peephole, Vaughn was wholly unprepared for the person he saw on the other side of his door. Once recognition seized him, he was unable to open the door fast enough, fumbling with the deadbolt lock.
"Sydney!" Vaughn exclaimed, swinging the door open wide. His face wore and expression of both shock and wonder. "How - what?"
Sydney hurriedly brushed past him, dropping the paper sacks just inside the apartment before she turned and quickly closed the door, securely locking it. There was a moment of hesitation, and then -
They were in each other's arms, kissing, holding, and grasping each other as if it had been weeks and not hours since they'd shared the same space. Vaughn knocked Sydney's wig to the floor and released her beautiful chestnut hair before burying his hands in it as he kissed her with passion that left them both breathless and panting. When they finally parted, Vaughn was once again intoxicated with her and she was in tears, gripping Vaughn's dress shirt between her slender fingers.
"Where were you?" She questioned, her voice broken. "Yesterday, Michael. where were you?"
Vaughn didn't know what pricked his heart more, hearing her speak his name or the small, scared voice with which she spoke it. He took her face in his hands and kissed her tears, wanting nothing more than to stop the pain she was feeling now and any pain she would ever feel again.
"I'm sorry," Vaughn said quietly, pulling back from her. Sydney's watery eyes searched his face for understanding. "Come here," He took her hand and led her to the couch. Once they were seated and Vaughn had turned off the TV, he explained. "I got a 911 page to come to the ops center," He said, his eyes darkening. "Kendall wanted to meet with me. Apparently he knew that the committee wasn't going to see me yesterday."
"Didn't Kendall pretty much say all he needed to say when we got back from London?" Sydney interjected, a flash of anger crossing her face.
"Apparently not," Vaughn looked down at his hands. "He wanted to tell me that I've been relieved of active duty until this all blows over."
"What?" Sydney's eyes grew wide. "Vaughn-"
Vaughn covered her hands with his own, trying to reassure her. "It's nothing to worry about. It's standard procedure. When this mess gets cleaned up, I'll be fully restored to active duty." He tried his best to sound nonchalant, but Sydney knew this was tearing him up inside. "Speaking of Kendall," Vaughn said suddenly. "Do you have any idea what might happen if he finds out you're here?"
"Vaughn," Sydney narrowed her eyes, her voice strong. "We've come too far to worry about the rules now," She reminded him. "Besides, no one knows I'm here except for you, me and Will Tippin. And he won't tell anyone."
Vaughn considered this for a moment, then he smiled. "I'm glad you're here," He reached out and touched Sydney's cheek. She smiled back, the sight of him filling places within her that had been empty too long.
Sydney and Vaughn spent the next hour just talking, something they never seemed to have been able to do before. It was fortifying for both of them to sit together with a couple glasses of wine and just share thoughts and events of their day. Vaughn filled Sydney in on his experience with the committee, which was similar to her own in many ways. Sydney told Vaughn about spending the previous evening with her father and how, surprisingly, he had been unusually quiet on the subject, choosing to listen and offer support instead of trying to smother her with unwanted advice.
"I mean, my father is not the type to get in someone's face and say `I told you so', but he certainly had the right in this situation," Sydney grinned as she reclined against Vaughn on the couch, her feet dangling over the side. She rested a glass of wine on her stomach, cradling the sweet beverage in her left hand as her right lay in Vaughn's lap, their fingers entwined. "He actually just let me talk it out. He just listened."
"Your dad is a good guy," Vaughn offered, sipping his wine. "Too bad he doesn't think the same of me," He grinned as Sydney let out a laugh.
"That's not true," She insisted. "He just questions your judgment, I think."
The talk of her father sparked Sydney's memory. She told Vaughn about her mother sending roses. Although Vaughn didn't say much about Irina Derevko, he did express wonderment over her ingenuity. And then he mentioned the one thing that had been pressing on Sydney's heart ever since she first inhaled the robust aroma of those yellow blooms.
"This definitely won't make the decision any easier for you," Vaughn said, his voice distant and slightly defeated. He was confident that Sydney knew what decision he was referring to. Her silence spoke volumes. "Not that a decision needs to be made, really. But just in case."
Sydney drew in a deep breath and swiveled on the couch to face Vaughn, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. "How bad can it be, Vaughn? Other than reassigning you, how bad can the consequences be?"
Vaughn sat up, also, rubbing his tired eyes. "Honestly, I don't know," He met Sydney's eyes, his expression unreadable. "I asked Kendall that yesterday, and he wouldn't tell me anything. Not being your handler is punishment enough, though, Syd," Vaughn reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. "I'll miss you."
"Let's not dwell on that right now," Sydney urged, getting to her feet. "I'd rather do something a lot more fun." She pulled Vaughn to his feet and started to pull him towards the hallway that led to the bedroom.
Vaughn grinned, feigning reluctance. "But Sydney," He said. "We have to be up early tomorrow."
"I need you to make me forget about that right now," Sydney turned to him, her tone light but her eyes bearing traces of sadness. Vaughn just smiled, took her by the hand, and led her into his room.
Some time later, they lay naked together beneath tangled sheets, their bodies spent and their hearts full. Sydney rested her head on Vaughn's chest and sighed, the weight of the day ahead starting to creep in, pound by pound and ounce by ounce. She wanted assurances that they would be all right, that what they were facing was nothing more than an inconvenience, a challenge to them to find creative ways to be together. A nagging doubt continually invaded Sydney's thoughts, and as Vaughn fell asleep next to her, his breathing deep and steady, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was right. Maybe it would be easier to just go away, to leave all this behind.
Sydney couldn't help but feel that Vaughn was her second chance. Danny had been stolen from her and now she had been given this gift, this opportunity to love completely once again. Somehow it felt wrong to thumb her nose at it by not stealing every chance they had for a normal, love-filled life. And yet there were other things to consider. She had friends and a home and her father, not to mention her mother, who seemed determined to make this decision all the more gut wrenching.
"Be strong, Gentle Heart. Be true," Sydney whispered into the darkness, repeating the words her mother had sent to her earlier that day. At the moment, they felt like contradictions. If she were strong, she would stay and face the hardship. If she was true, she would trust her heart and they would run away.
Sydney glanced back at Vaughn as he slept, his face peaceful. She knew it was good advice, being strong and being true. She just wished she knew which one would see her through to a life full of moments like these.
******
A/N: More to come! To those of you who have contributed a review, your words have been so kind and encouraging. These words seem inadequate to express my gratitude, but - thank you.
Holding a stack of printouts, the young agent knocked tentatively on Kendall's door. Getting no response, he opened the door far enough to stick his head in and take a look around. Kendall was sitting at his formica- topped desk, his phone to his ear. He glanced up and noticed the agent just as he was about to retreat.
"Baylor, wait," Kendall called out. The young agent stopped and opened the door a bit wider to allow himself to step inside the small office. Kendall turned his attention back to the phone. "Rich, that's a valid argument, and I'd love to get into it with you, but at this moment I have more pressing issues. I'll call you later." With that, he dropped the receiver into the cradle and lifted his steely blue eyes to the young man who stood before him. "What?"
Baylor nervously shuffled through the sheaf of papers in his hand. He was new to this ops center and new to Kendall's command. He had yet to fully control his fear at dealing with the man whose difficult reputation preceded him.
"Sir," Baylor swallowed hard. "Was Irina Derevko surfing the internet yesterday?"
Kendall did not seem at all surprised by the question, which caught Baylor off guard. "Yes, she was. Why?"
Baylor shuffled the papers again until he found the appropriate page. "Well, sir, I assume she was being monitored, right?"
Kendall was losing patience, but he held his tongue. "Yes, she was, Baylor. She was allowed to work on a computer to try to trace the origin of the GPS chip used in the device agents Vaughn and Bristow recently acquired. There was another agent with her the whole time."
"The whole time?" Baylor echoed, incredulous.
"Yes, except for when he went to get Derevko a cup of coffee," Kendall replied, his voice deepening as his curiosity increased. "But we weren't concerned because she was chained to the work station and had two US Marshals within five feet of her." He motioned towards the documents in Baylor's hands. "And because of those, the computer security dumps. We'd know if she did anything unauthorized because everything she does is recorded and then printed out."
"Well, sir, something very interesting printed out," Baylor held up one of the sheets, his eyebrows raised. "Were you aware that Derevko went to an internet florist, sent someone a bouquet of one dozen yellow roses, and had it charged to the CIA?"
"What?" Kendall rose slowly to his feet, his face registering surprise and then anger. He let out a deep breath before asking the question to which he believed he already knew the answer. "Who did she send them to?"
Baylor took a moment to consult the document, then he looked up, his eyes reflecting mild amusement. "Sydney Bristow."
Sydney emerged from her bedroom feeling warm and slightly dazed, her head still buzzy from hours of deep sleep. She wrapped herself in a favorite oatmeal colored sweater and headed for the kitchen, her stomach rumbling, impatient for food.
At the dining room table, Will Tippin was working at his laptop, a well- chewed pencil between his teeth. His eyes danced from notebook to computer screen as he fingers flew over the keys, pausing only briefly to flip pages or absently ruffle his short blonde hair.
When Sydney entered the room on her way to the kitchen, Will stopped and sat back in the chair, spitting the pencil into his hand.
"Hey, Syd," He said affectionately. "How are you?" His voice was warm with compassion as Sydney stopped next to the table, raising her eyes to meet his.
"I've been better, Will," She replied, honesty making her voice tight. "But I'm glad I slept. What time is it?"
Will consulted his watch. "Almost five. Francie left for the restaurant about an hour ago, and I figured it'd be safe to work out here at the table on some of the research I'm doing for Vaughn."
At the mention of his name, Sydney almost involuntarily turned away, a shadow crossing her eyes. She started towards the kitchen again, rubbing her stomach as she went.
Will followed her with his eyes. "If you're hungry, there's some left over Kung Pao chicken in the fridge," He offered. He listened as Sydney opened and closed the refrigerator and watched as she came back to the dining room with a Chinese take-out container in one hand and chopsticks in the other.
"I think sometimes it tastes better cold," Sydney explained, answering a question Will had not asked. She both did and did not want to discuss Vaughn, but she felt that the subject would eventually be unavoidable.
Will got up from the table and disappeared into the front hall for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a bouquet of one dozen yellow roses in a clear glass vase. Sydney looked up and nearly dropped her chopsticks along with a broccoli floret she was lifting to her mouth.
"These came for you," Will set them on the table and handed the card to Sydney. "I didn't want to wake you, but Francie and I have been dying to know who they're from." His blue eyes bore a mischievous twinkle as he dropped back into his chair, picking up his pencil and tucking it behind his ear.
Sydney rose from her seat and reached for the vase, turning it to get a better view of the lovely flowers. She buried her face in their blooms, inhaling the deep aroma and smiling. She had a suspicion who had sent them as she slid her fingernail along the edge of the envelope, slitting it open. After reading it to herself, she read it aloud to Will.
"It says, `Be strong, Gentle Heart. Be true.'" Sydney nodded and then looked up at Will with wet eyes. "My mother," She told him, her suspicion confirmed.
Will was dumbfounded, his eyes wide. "Your mother?" He echoed in disbelief. "How is that possible?"
"With Irina Derevko, anything is possible," Sydney dropped the card onto the tabletop and slid back into her seat, wrapping herself tighter in the cozy sweater and swallowing tears. She picked up her chopsticks and went back to eating, avoiding Will's eyes as he searched for understanding.
"How do you know, though?" Will pestered, closing the laptop and leaning forward, his curiosity getting the best of him. "The note isn't signed."
"The day I was born," Sydney answered, her voice small. "My mother was out buying yellow roses when she went into labor. Up until the time she disappeared, she bought yellow roses every year on my birthday." Sydney paused to retrieve a pea pod that had slipped from the chopsticks. She had Will's undivided attention as she went on. "And she called me `Gentle Heart' once, in kindergarten, when we found a dead baby bird on our back porch and I cried about it for hours."
Will was speechless. His eyes never left Sydney's face as he watched her struggle to remain in control of her emotions. Several minutes of silence passed while Sydney ate, although her appetite was not what it usually was. Will tried to get back to his work, opening the computer once again, but his concern for Sydney was stealing his ability to concentrate.
"What happened yesterday, Syd?" Will asked suddenly. He got up from his seat and walked around the table before pulling out a chair next to Sydney and sitting down. "You got back so late; I wanted to talk to you, but I wasn't sure you'd be up for it."
Sydney looked up from the cold Kung Pao and into the face of her trusted friend, the only friend she had who knew all her secrets, who understood her truths, and who never held a single one against her. She reached out to squeeze his hand, and then in a halting voice, she told him everything.
When she was finished with it all, right down to the part where she had fallen, exhausted, into her father's supportive arms, Sydney pushed the take-out box into the center of the table and put her head down on her arms. Will stroked her soft, chestnut hair, smoothing it down over her shoulders.
"Where did Vaughn go?" Will asked the question that had echoed through Sydney's head all day, the one question for which she did not have a good answer.
Sydney didn't raise her head. "I don't know," She said in a muffled voice. Will could not tell if she was crying. "I haven't heard from him."
"Have you tried to call him?"
"No," Sydney sighed, turning her head to the side. Her eyes were red, but she was not crying. She was convinced she had shed enough tears so far to last her a week. "I spent a few hours with my father last night, and he told me that it's possible our phone conversations are being monitored."
"That's crazy," Will declared, getting up from his chair and heading towards the kitchen. "Can they do that? You're not criminals."
"No, but we did endanger the life of an agent of the CIA," Sydney sat up. "We could have caused an international incident had those men run off into the airport with their guns blazing. It could've been so much worse."
Will returned to the room with a beer for himself and a can of diet Coke for Sydney. She smiled at him gratefully and popped the can open just before taking a long, thirsty swallow.
"I guess I don't understand how these things work," Will slid a hand into the pocket of his jeans. He shook his head. "It doesn't make any sense to me that you guys are being punished when ultimately you protected the device-thingy that everyone was so up in arms about."
"An agent was shot," Sydney reminded him.
"I know," Will sighed after taking a swig of his beer. "I know that, and I also know that you and Vaughn should not be kept apart." He was just as surprised by his words as Sydney was. She had known for quite some time that Will carried a torch for her that had only burned brighter once he had learned the truth. And now, to be advocating that she and Vaughn be together - Sydney was touched.
"Will," She got to her feet to face him. "Thank you. For being my friend, and, well - for so much I can't even put into words."
Will readily embraced her, squeezing her in a tight hug. When they parted, he set his beer down on the table and clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms as he grinned.
"It would appear to me, Syd," He said, his voice taking on a mysterious lilt. "That if you and Vaughn can't talk on the phone, then you'll just have to talk in person." When Sydney opened her mouth to protest, Will held up a hand to stop her. "I know what you're going to say, and believe me when I say I agree, it does sound crazy. But I have an idea - at least hear me out."
An hour later, after a hastily hatched plan and an even more hasty shower, Sydney was curled up on the back seat of Will's Bronco, hidden from view. On the floor beside her were a long blonde wig and two brown paper sacks of "groceries", which in actuality were filled with nothing more than stacks of old newspapers.
Sydney tried her best to relax. She couldn't decide what was making her heart pound the way it was - attempting to pull off this plan or her deep desire to see Vaughn again. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek against the cool vinyl seat, losing herself momentarily in the song on the radio. She was startled back to the present when the car came to a halt and Will cut off the ignition.
"We're here," He said, turning in his seat to look at Sydney. She cautiously lifted her head to see out the side window, thankful for the tinted glass. "There doesn't seem to be many people around," Will observed, looking left and right at the parking lot and road leading to it in front of Vaughn's apartment building. It was almost dark, the twilight fading as the moon rose in the eastern sky.
Without a sound, Sydney sat up in the back seat and pulled a large barrette from her pocket. She skillfully tied up her long hair and secured it against her scalp before pulling on the blonde wig, careful to press it as tight to her head as possible. She didn't have the time now to prepare as she usually did before her missions, but she didn't want that to be an excuse for her disguise to appear shoddy.
In the driver's seat, Will had pulled out a map of Los Angeles and a pen light and pretended to be searching for something on the large, unfolded page. Every once in a while he glanced over at the front door of the building, waiting to see if anyone approached. The plan was simple: Vaughn's building was secure and required anyone wishing to enter to either have a key or be buzzed in by a resident. Sydney was going to attempt to get herself inside while the door was being opened for someone else.
"I'm ready," Sydney said quietly, hoisting the grocery bags into her arms and opening the car door just enough to be able to nudge it with her elbow when the time was right.
Will reached up and disabled the interior lights so they could remain inconspicuous. He glanced up at the door once more and immediately leaned across the passenger seat for a better view.
"Syd, there's a guy walking towards the door with keys in his hand," Will hurriedly said. "Go now."
"Thanks, Will," Sydney whispered as she pushed the door open with her elbow and quickly stepped onto the pavement. She shoved the car door closed with her hip and then jogged a few feet until she was close enough to call out to the man who was just sliding his key into the front door.
"You hoo!" Sydney called out, her voice thick with syrupy southern twang. "Hey there," She flashed the man a winning smile as he glanced back over his shoulder at her. "Would you mind holding that door for me? I just can't get to my keys right now."
The man smiled back and pulled the door open, stepping aside to let Sydney pass. As she did, she winked and thanked him sweetly. "My pleasure, miss," He nodded at her as she went by and headed for the stairs.
Taking them two at a time, Sydney paused when she reached the first landing and pressed her back against the wall. She could hear the man checking his mail, the metallic clang of the lobby mailbox opening and closing echoing in the narrow corridor. She held her breath and waited to see if the man was going to take the stairs. If so, she had to hide somewhere or go up to the third floor and hope he didn't follow her there. She was not going to risk letting anyone see her go into Vaughn's apartment.
To her relief, Sydney heard the keys in the door of a first floor apartment. She waited a few breathless moments more until she was certain she was not going to be followed before continuing up to the second floor. Once there, she poked her head into the hallway. Finding it deserted, Sydney stepped silently down the hallway until she reached Vaughn's door. She took a deep breath, raised her hand, and knocked.
On the other side of the door, Vaughn was stretched out on the couch, a cold beer in one hand and the remote control in the other. He was restlessly channel surfing, his mind unable to concentrate on any one thing for any length of time. He had never changed out of his clothes from the day and the fact that he was putting awful creases in his best pair of suit trousers never crossed his mind.
A knock on the door roused him from his mindless state, and he cautiously sat up, listening carefully. The knock sounded again, this time slightly more persistent. Vaughn set his beer on the remote on the wooden coffee table and got to his feet.
Leaning in to peer out the peephole, Vaughn was wholly unprepared for the person he saw on the other side of his door. Once recognition seized him, he was unable to open the door fast enough, fumbling with the deadbolt lock.
"Sydney!" Vaughn exclaimed, swinging the door open wide. His face wore and expression of both shock and wonder. "How - what?"
Sydney hurriedly brushed past him, dropping the paper sacks just inside the apartment before she turned and quickly closed the door, securely locking it. There was a moment of hesitation, and then -
They were in each other's arms, kissing, holding, and grasping each other as if it had been weeks and not hours since they'd shared the same space. Vaughn knocked Sydney's wig to the floor and released her beautiful chestnut hair before burying his hands in it as he kissed her with passion that left them both breathless and panting. When they finally parted, Vaughn was once again intoxicated with her and she was in tears, gripping Vaughn's dress shirt between her slender fingers.
"Where were you?" She questioned, her voice broken. "Yesterday, Michael. where were you?"
Vaughn didn't know what pricked his heart more, hearing her speak his name or the small, scared voice with which she spoke it. He took her face in his hands and kissed her tears, wanting nothing more than to stop the pain she was feeling now and any pain she would ever feel again.
"I'm sorry," Vaughn said quietly, pulling back from her. Sydney's watery eyes searched his face for understanding. "Come here," He took her hand and led her to the couch. Once they were seated and Vaughn had turned off the TV, he explained. "I got a 911 page to come to the ops center," He said, his eyes darkening. "Kendall wanted to meet with me. Apparently he knew that the committee wasn't going to see me yesterday."
"Didn't Kendall pretty much say all he needed to say when we got back from London?" Sydney interjected, a flash of anger crossing her face.
"Apparently not," Vaughn looked down at his hands. "He wanted to tell me that I've been relieved of active duty until this all blows over."
"What?" Sydney's eyes grew wide. "Vaughn-"
Vaughn covered her hands with his own, trying to reassure her. "It's nothing to worry about. It's standard procedure. When this mess gets cleaned up, I'll be fully restored to active duty." He tried his best to sound nonchalant, but Sydney knew this was tearing him up inside. "Speaking of Kendall," Vaughn said suddenly. "Do you have any idea what might happen if he finds out you're here?"
"Vaughn," Sydney narrowed her eyes, her voice strong. "We've come too far to worry about the rules now," She reminded him. "Besides, no one knows I'm here except for you, me and Will Tippin. And he won't tell anyone."
Vaughn considered this for a moment, then he smiled. "I'm glad you're here," He reached out and touched Sydney's cheek. She smiled back, the sight of him filling places within her that had been empty too long.
Sydney and Vaughn spent the next hour just talking, something they never seemed to have been able to do before. It was fortifying for both of them to sit together with a couple glasses of wine and just share thoughts and events of their day. Vaughn filled Sydney in on his experience with the committee, which was similar to her own in many ways. Sydney told Vaughn about spending the previous evening with her father and how, surprisingly, he had been unusually quiet on the subject, choosing to listen and offer support instead of trying to smother her with unwanted advice.
"I mean, my father is not the type to get in someone's face and say `I told you so', but he certainly had the right in this situation," Sydney grinned as she reclined against Vaughn on the couch, her feet dangling over the side. She rested a glass of wine on her stomach, cradling the sweet beverage in her left hand as her right lay in Vaughn's lap, their fingers entwined. "He actually just let me talk it out. He just listened."
"Your dad is a good guy," Vaughn offered, sipping his wine. "Too bad he doesn't think the same of me," He grinned as Sydney let out a laugh.
"That's not true," She insisted. "He just questions your judgment, I think."
The talk of her father sparked Sydney's memory. She told Vaughn about her mother sending roses. Although Vaughn didn't say much about Irina Derevko, he did express wonderment over her ingenuity. And then he mentioned the one thing that had been pressing on Sydney's heart ever since she first inhaled the robust aroma of those yellow blooms.
"This definitely won't make the decision any easier for you," Vaughn said, his voice distant and slightly defeated. He was confident that Sydney knew what decision he was referring to. Her silence spoke volumes. "Not that a decision needs to be made, really. But just in case."
Sydney drew in a deep breath and swiveled on the couch to face Vaughn, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. "How bad can it be, Vaughn? Other than reassigning you, how bad can the consequences be?"
Vaughn sat up, also, rubbing his tired eyes. "Honestly, I don't know," He met Sydney's eyes, his expression unreadable. "I asked Kendall that yesterday, and he wouldn't tell me anything. Not being your handler is punishment enough, though, Syd," Vaughn reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. "I'll miss you."
"Let's not dwell on that right now," Sydney urged, getting to her feet. "I'd rather do something a lot more fun." She pulled Vaughn to his feet and started to pull him towards the hallway that led to the bedroom.
Vaughn grinned, feigning reluctance. "But Sydney," He said. "We have to be up early tomorrow."
"I need you to make me forget about that right now," Sydney turned to him, her tone light but her eyes bearing traces of sadness. Vaughn just smiled, took her by the hand, and led her into his room.
Some time later, they lay naked together beneath tangled sheets, their bodies spent and their hearts full. Sydney rested her head on Vaughn's chest and sighed, the weight of the day ahead starting to creep in, pound by pound and ounce by ounce. She wanted assurances that they would be all right, that what they were facing was nothing more than an inconvenience, a challenge to them to find creative ways to be together. A nagging doubt continually invaded Sydney's thoughts, and as Vaughn fell asleep next to her, his breathing deep and steady, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe he was right. Maybe it would be easier to just go away, to leave all this behind.
Sydney couldn't help but feel that Vaughn was her second chance. Danny had been stolen from her and now she had been given this gift, this opportunity to love completely once again. Somehow it felt wrong to thumb her nose at it by not stealing every chance they had for a normal, love-filled life. And yet there were other things to consider. She had friends and a home and her father, not to mention her mother, who seemed determined to make this decision all the more gut wrenching.
"Be strong, Gentle Heart. Be true," Sydney whispered into the darkness, repeating the words her mother had sent to her earlier that day. At the moment, they felt like contradictions. If she were strong, she would stay and face the hardship. If she was true, she would trust her heart and they would run away.
Sydney glanced back at Vaughn as he slept, his face peaceful. She knew it was good advice, being strong and being true. She just wished she knew which one would see her through to a life full of moments like these.
******
A/N: More to come! To those of you who have contributed a review, your words have been so kind and encouraging. These words seem inadequate to express my gratitude, but - thank you.