Chapter Five

Sydney smoothed her crimson skirt and straightened her black shirt as she walked up towards the front door of Geneviève Vaughn's home. She was nervous, to say the least, but she was glad to see that her car was the only one in the driveway. She wasn't late, but she didn't want to be the last person there. A stained glass window decorated with vines and flowers didn't hide the broad-shouldered form who answered the doorbell's ring.

Vaughn's smile was welcoming and the gleam in his eyes told her he liked what he saw. She couldn't fight the soft blush creeping up to her cheeks as his stare lasted a little longer than comfortable. He then became aware that they had been standing there for too long without saying a word and smiled sheepishly.

"Hi, Syd," he said.

"Hi, Michael," she said, silently reminding herself to not call him Vaughn. "Thank you for inviting me tonight."

He stepped aside so she could get in the house. Her heels clicked smartly on the polished marble floor of the foyer. Delicious scents were wafting out of the kitchen where a few sounds told her Geneviève was still working in there.

"Thanks for coming," he said, putting a guiding hand on the small of her back. "Can I get you something to drink? A gin and tonic?"

She was surprised that he knew that was her drink of choice and even if he did have his memory, she would have still been surprised because she had mentioned it only once in passing. "How did you know?"

He shrugged, a small frown lining his brow. "I just...knew."

He led her into the elegant sitting room and Sydney sat down on the striped cream-colored couch. Vaughn went to the small bar in one corner and began to mix her drink as she studied the room. Bay windows framed with filmy white curtains took up one wall and two armchairs of the same pattern as the couch sat in front of it. It was not a room where she could have kicked off her shoes and sat back, propping her feet up on the glass-topped table, but it was a proper area for entertaining guests. Sydney chewed on her lip, her nervousness heightened by what she perceived to be Mrs. Vaughn's sense of propriety. She tugged on the hem of her skirt, wishing it would go past her knees.

Vaughn handed her a glass and sat down in an armchair. "How's work?"

"Good. Busy. How have you been doing?"

He looked down at the glass filled with brandy that he held in his hands, his expression pensive "I get flashes of scenes that I can't place, like bits and pieces of a movie that I must have seen before, but can't remember the plot. Doctor Chan's hoping that my being home will jog my memory a bit, and it is a little."

"Do you.do you see me in those scenes?" Sydney asked hesitantly.

"Sometimes."

She could see that he was holding something back, but before she could ask the doorbell rang. Vaughn threw her an apologetic smile and stood to get it. Weiss' voice carried from the foyer and she stood in greeting when he entered the room.

"Hi, Sydney," he said.

"Hi, Weiss."

"Call me Eric. Weiss sounds too professional in here."

"Eric it is."

Geneviève entered the room then. She smiled at her guests and they noticed that her mood had improved considerably since taking Vaughn home. Sydney and Weiss shook her hand and exchanged pleasantries as Vaughn watched.

"I am sorry to have kept you waiting, but I just wanted to finish up in the kitchen so that we could have dinner right away."

"It smells delicious," Weiss said graciously

"Thank you, Agent Weiss."

"Please call me Eric, Mrs. Vaughn."

"Then I insist that you call me Geneviève. There will be no more formalities from now on. You have both been there for Michel when he needed you and I am grateful. I believe that he will need you both even more now."

Sydney and Weiss exchanged a look.

"Come," Geneviève said with a sweeping gesture. "Let us eat."

Dinner was a more relaxed affair and Geneviève was a wonderful cook. She shared stories of Vaughn's childhood that amused Weiss and Sydney. Vaughn had a feeling he would have been embarrassed if this had been under normal circumstances but as it was, he was just as interested as they were in hearing these stories. He had spoken to his mother in length about his history, but they had touched upon the near past rather than his childhood. To her dismay, none of her stories jogged his memory, and right then, nothing she said was familiar to him at all. Poking at his steak with his fork, he hid his disappointment.

Sydney sensed rather than saw Vaughn's change in mood. She glanced across the table from him and caught his eye. He managed a tight smile and shook his head at her to tell her he was alright. They both knew she wasn't convinced and Sydney made a mental note to speak to him later.

They helped Geneviève clear the table and Weiss rolled up his sleeves to tackle the dishes. He laughed and talked with Geneviève easily as if they were old friends, leaving Sydney and Vaughn at loose ends. Weiss threw Sydney a look behind Geneviève's back and she was shocked that he was giving her a chance to speak to Vaughn alone. She would question his motives later. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Sydney turned to her former handler.

"Do you want to take a walk?" she asked.

"Sure," he said, though his eyes told her he was wondering what she was up to. "My mother's garden is in full bloom. We can go out there."

He led her to the backyard and took her down the path that would take them through the blooming flora. The moon was full and cast a silvery light on the garden. It was beautiful and too romantic for Sydney's piece of mind. Here she was with the man she'd fought so hard to keep at arm's length and the days of worry had taken their toll on her self-control. Without thinking, she tucked her hand into his elbow, needing the simple touch.

"What's on your mind?" he inquired, looking down at her.

"Actually, I was just about to ask you that question."

"What are you to me, Syd?" he said before he could lose his nerve. "I get this feeling that you and Eric aren't telling me all that I have to know. You're not just a co-worker, and I think that we're friends, but there's something more there. We're not.it's probably against the rules, but tell me the truth."

She shook her head. "We're not anything more than friends, Vaughn."

"Why do you call me Vaughn? If we're such good friends, why don't you call me Michael or Mike? And I call you Syd, not.Bristow. You told my mom your name was Sydney Mason. I didn't correct her. I didn't think I should."

She sighed and stopped walking in order to look up into his troubled face. "You were right in not saying anything. My name is Sydney Bristow, not Mason, but it's dangerous for her to know that so Weiss made that name up. I call you Vaughn because that's what I've always called you and I can't seem to break myself of the habit. We are friends, but our friendship is different from any friendship that I've ever had, and I suspect it is the same for you."

"In those flashes of memory that I told you about, you're always bruised and hurting. I get this feeling of wanting to protect you and comfort you, but at the same time, I know that I shouldn't do either of those things." He rubbed his eyes. "I probably shouldn't be telling you any of this, but it's just so damned frustrating to see only small pieces of my life. I want it back. I want my life back."

The pain in his bright green eyes was unbearable and Sydney put her arms around him carefully, offering him her support. He reached for her and held her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Vaughn," she whispered, stroking the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "I wish that I could find a way to make this all go away because you don't deserve this. You're a good man and one of the best agents out there."

"Is that all I am?"

He pulled back and the expression on his face told her that they were close to treading on dangerous territory. She took a quick breath and stepped out of the circle of his arms.

"We're friends," she repeated.

His lips thinned. "There's something more. I know it."

"Michel! Sydney!" Geneviève called. "Come in for coffee."

"We're coming, Mom," Vaughn called back.

Vaughn helped his mother with the coffee as Weiss and Sydney retreated to the sitting room.

"What happened out there?" Weiss whispered.

"He's adjusting," Sydney hedged. "It's hard, but he's handling things. Have you had a chance to talk to him?"

"Yeah, but he doesn't say much. I think he kinda has a feeling that we weren't on the best of terms before he left for Taipei."

"You weren't?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Weiss' expression shuttered. "Personal problems."

Sydney stared at him but he refused to meet her eyes. Geneviève entered the room with a tray of coffee cups, Vaughn close at her heels with the pot. He looked from Weiss to Sydney and he was thoughtful. He could remember speaking to Weiss about her but what they talked about was beyond his reach at that moment. The two agents stayed long enough to finish their coffee, but they stood at the same time to excuse themselves for the night.

"It was a wonderful dinner, Geneviève," Sydney said, hugging her. "Thank you for inviting me."

"It was my pleasure. Please come back again."

"I will," Sydney lied.

She moved on to Weiss, leaving Sydney face-to-face with Vaughn.

"I want to see you again," he said boldly.

"You will."

He threw her a hard look. "I better."

He hugged her, but she was stiff in his arms. She could feel Weiss' eyes boring holes in the back of her head.

"Goodnight, Vaughn."

"Goodnight, Sydney."