- this is a boring chapter. Haha. But hey, it's getting closer to Vaughn! =)

Chapter 3

"Will? It's me," she said into the mouthpiece.

"Hey! What's up?" Will asked, careful not to say her name.

"Not much. Same old. How's everything in LA?" Sydney inquired, leaning against the headboard of her bed.

"Still amazingly warm for this time of year. Francie's restaurant is going well," Will responded. "Apparently, she has gotten good reviews from the LA Times, and people are flooding the place as we speak."

"Wow," Sydney replied. "Tell her I said hi."

"Will do. Hey, how is Patrick?"

Sydney sighed. "He's fine. Just came back from dinner with his parents."

"His parents?" Will said incredulously. "Uh."

"Anyway, how's work?" she changed the subject.

The last time Sydney saw Will, he was a desk agent at the CIA, good friends with Vaughn, and grateful that the CIA committee overlooked his so- called "criminal record."

"It's actually really fun. I know I'm not supposed to say that work is fun, but I met so many people. It's hectic actually, but interesting."

Sydney could almost see Will's smiling face.

"How's uh." Sydney started, then stopped herself. She was that close to asking about Vaughn.

"Your father?" Will said smoothly, although he probably knew who Sydney was asking about.

"Yes. My father. Is he still up and running?" Sydney sighed.

"Yes. Literally. I see him sometimes when he's on his daily jog," Will laughed.

"His what?"

"Daily jog?"

"He runs?" Sydney giggled.

"Apparently. Hey . . . I have to go to work now," Will said suddenly. "Some meeting."

Sydney almost laughed at the irony. She was always the one who used work as the reason to end a conversation, but now it was Will's turn.

"Sure. Tell everyone I miss 'em," Sydney said softly.

--

Will placed the phone back into its cradle, and stared down at it. These conversations with Sydney were getting strained and awkward for some reason he couldn't understand.

He had asked Vaughn why they couldn't just have a secret meeting with Sydney sometime - so they could talk in person. That was when he learned not to say the word "Sydney" in front of Vaughn.

Francie had been told about Sydney and her spy-life, and was extremely composed when Vaughn had laid it out for her. And since Sydney had "moved out," Will now occupied the guest room. Francie claimed she felt lonely, all by herself in the house, so she asked Will if he wanted to move in. He did.

"Will?" Francie called from the kitchen.

"Hm?"

"Who was that? Was it -"

"Yeah," Will replied, walking to the kitchen, where Francie was making dinner.

"How is she? Is she all right?" Francie asked, placing some pans in the sink.

"She's fine. She just came back from dinner - with Patrick and his parents," Will said, leaning against the doorframe.

"They're getting a little serious, aren't they?" Francie questioned, pulling the refrigerator door open.

Will nodded absently. "But -"

"Vaughn. I know. It's really frustrating, isn't it? Hell, if it's aggravating me, then how frustrating must it be for those two?" Francie sighed, pulling out a cardboard box of eggs.

"Oh, damn . . . Fran, I gotta meet Vaughn -"

"Go ahead. But be back for dinner," Francie reminded, waving a spatula at him.

--