Author: LegalBlonde
Email: Legalblonde2005@yahoo.com
Rating: PG
Classification: General/vignette
Disclaimer: They're not mine. I don't make money off this, or anything else for that matter. Don't sue.
Summary: Sydney gets her wish, only to be reminded wishes come with strings attached. 1/3.
Author's Note: Sydney's POV. Much thanks to everyone who left feedback on "Aftermath", you guys inspired me to keep going.
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My heels click across the driveway as I'm digging through my purse for the car keys. It's amazing, the smaller a purse I buy, the harder it gets to find my keys. Finally! I pull them out and aim them triumphantly toward the car. Just as I'm about to hit the disarm button, another hand wraps around them. A very attractive hand. It's followed by a male voice, close to my ear.
"Nope, I'm driving this morning." I shake my head and turn to face him, greeted by a smile that's way too bright for eight o'clock in the morning.
"Oh, no. Tell me you're not going to turn into one of those macho-I've-gotta-drive guys. Because this will definitely need some rethinking."
"No," he says, reaching down to open the passenger-side door. "You said you wanted to walk in the front door, and I said I wanted to drive you. We both get our wish." That self-satisfied grin grows wider, and I am genuinely amazed I've been able to go this long without seeing it every morning. I smile back – way too brightly for eight o'clock in the morning – and slide inside the car.
"Besides, this way I have to drive you home tonight."
I watch the LA skyline slide by on the drive to work, letting it sink in that this is my life, this, not the cloak-and-dagger running routine I've practiced almost daily for the last four months. We pull into the CIA parking lot, and I'm trying very hard not to laugh at Vaughn, who's racing through the rows of parking spaces faster than he was taking the freeway, muttering something under his breath about new recruits.
"Glad you're enjoying this."
"Hey, I had to run from home every day."
"Was it uphill both ways?"
"Very funny." I shake my head. "You know, I never even thought about this place having a parking lot. I knew it had one, I guess, I just never thought I'd be using it."
"Don't get used to it. Tomorrow we're parking at your place. It's closer," he says, pulling into a spot six rows from the front door. As he turns off the ignition, he reaches over to squeeze my hand. Serious Vaughn is back.
"You ready?"
I lean over and kiss him softly.
"Now I am."
We're barely through the doors when we run into my father and Kendall, involved in what looks to be a serious conversation. So much for covert entry.
"Agent Vaughn, Agent Bristow, good morning. We're bringing some of the SD-6 personnel in for debrief today."
"Dixon and Marshall?" I ask.
"Not yet. Agent Weiss has already spoken with Mr. Flinkman, and he's downstairs with some of our tech people. You'll see him later in the day. Mr. Dixon has been somewhat -- unresponsive."
I purse my lips and study the floor. It should hurt less by now. It doesn't. "Do you think I should talk to him?"
"No," Dad breaks in. "Sydney, I'll talk to Dixon. I was his superior at SD-6; I think he might be more amenable to speaking with me." I nod, knowing his former position has nothing to do with it.
"Let me know when he's ready to meet with me."
"I will."
Kendall hands me a thick file. "Agent Bristow, I would like you to meet with Evidence Team Three this morning. They've catalogued forty-seven items from the SD-6 vault, a number of which are believed to be Rambaldi artifacts. I would like you to bring them up to speed on your experience with the items and provide them with any background information you can."
"No problem. Second floor?"
"Yes." I risk a sideways glance at Vaughn before I turn toward the elevators. He returns the glance as Kendall starts rattling off about another debrief. My father follows me to the elevators, but doesn't speak until we reach the second floor. Just we step out into the hallway, he grasps my arm and stops me in front of an empty office.
"Sydney, there's something I'd like to discuss with you." He opens the door and I step past him into the room, leaning against a desk. I never went to the principal's office as a kid, but I have the strange idea this is what it must have felt like.
"What is it?"
He clears his throat. "I know your personal life is none of my concern --"
Oh, no. "Dad, where are you going with this?"
"I just want to know that you're being careful."
Please, please tell me I'm not getting the sex talk.
"Dad, whatever you think is going on --"
"Sydney, as I said, your personal life is your concern. But it has been my experience that emotional entanglements can cloud one's judgement. I just want you to realize the gravity of your situation."
I shake my head at my father, the relationship guru. Watch out, Oprah.
"You are lecturing me on how to conduct a relationship?" I'm still shaking my head as I step past him and reach for the door.
"Sydney," he says, laying his hand on my arm. "Please, perhaps I'm not being -- I'm not coming across the way I want." I wait, but keep one hand on the doorknob. He's having trouble with this. He meets my eyes for a moment, then looks just off to the left, addressing the next sentence to the blank wall behind me. "When I was your age, I had everything I wanted. A wife I loved, a beautiful young daughter, a budding career." His tone becomes harder, and he looks straight at me. "But that blinded me. I didn't see what was coming. I didn't see what your mother --" He breaks off, drawing a breath. "I learned many lessons after she left. Not the least of which is that personal attachments are liabilities." He lets the words hang, not dropping my gaze.
"Dad, if you're trying to insinuate--"
"I'm not trying to insinuate anything." He pauses, and we're back to the blank wall again. "I want you to be happy. I just don't want you to be in a situation where you're thinking with your heart when you should be thinking with your head."
"I've been a spy for seven years, Dad. I'm not about to do anything that would put me or my fellow agents in jeopardy."
He doesn't respond, and I'm honestly not sure whether to be pissed or charmed. He's obviously not sure either. And I can leave it at that. I incline my head toward him just a bit and twist the doorknob. As I walk toward the evidence room, he wordlessly turns back to the other end of the hall.