Chapter 16: So now, Syd's seriously silly. And Weiss starts to see somewhat
scary similarities.
Weiss poked his head through the connector door. "Cashew chicken isn't really alliterative. But I have to ask too. Are you drunk? High? Nuts?"
"No. I didn't sleep well last night and today was exhausting. I'm just a little punchy. And happy."
"I've seen you punchy, but.You alliterate when you are happy?"
"I am an English major. I alliterate when I haven't any angst." She laughed when Weiss rolled his eyes and continued with a little smirk, "Why not? It's better than overusing onomatopoeias. "
Weiss groaned. "Don't you think that's a little odd?"
"You're talking to the daughter of Jack Bristow and Irina Derevko and you think advocating alliteration is odd? When you consider the universe of options available to me, genetically speaking." She had curled up on the bed as Weiss paced back and forth.
Weiss stopped and stared at her. He saw the point. "Yeah. Keep on alliterating. I'll live with that. But, just out of curiosity, what does your mom do when she's happy?"
"Hmm. Let's see. Bait my father. Keep him off balance. Get him to yell."
"That's how you know she's happy? When she's driving your dad crazy? Hmm," he said looking at her speculatively, "Speaking of genetics.What were you doing to Vaughn in here? 'Size isn't important?' for example. Ring any bells?"
"Oh. Oh! Eww. Am I..? And wow, these walls are thin! But you know, before my mom pretended to die my parents did have good times together, we all did, and ---"
"And pretending to die - that's just a minor hiccup in any relationship, I suppose? Right up there with leaving the toilet seat up. Or-"
"Or going out with one woman while asking another woman out to dinner, telling her the watch story.."
"The watch story?" Weiss inquired. When Syd said nothing, he continued, "Somehow, whatever that is, I don't think that's the equivalent of being a KGB spy, Syd. But do you know why he played around like that? It was so atypical of him. Do you have any ideas? I don't think he's figured it out, yet."
As she smushed her face into the pillow, Syd mumbled, "Something he said today, I think I've got it. I don't think he does yet, though."
"What? What is it?"
"I, well. I'm not going to tell you before I tell him! But FYI, my dad once told me that when you're interrogating somebody, the most important intel often is revealed when someone just blurts something out."
"Oh. My. God. Please, please, please, don't tell me you're using techniques you learned from Jack Bristow."
"Sure. If they work. Why not?" She shrugged.
Weiss stared at her. Finally he said, "Sometimes, Syd, you scare the crap out of me. Poor Vaughn." Then he laughed. "Yeah, poor guy. My heart bleeds. Wait, I've got one more question."
She raised her eyebrows.
"What does your dad do when he's happy?"
"I don't know. If I knew the answer to that, to what makes him happy, I could have already figured out Rambaldi," Syd said dryly. Then she sighed, "My dad is so controlled, so concerned about maintaining control - how can you be happy when you do that 24/7? The only time he loses control is-"
"About, around your mom?" Weiss asked speculatively, thinking the parallels were getting just a touch creepy. He shook his head to clear it and asked, "Do you remember."
"What?"
"You were starting to say something about before your mom left. When the three of you were together, what made your dad happy? I mean, it's hard to tell now that much of anything. I've only seen him laugh once in all the years I've known him."
"You've seen him laugh?" Syd asked. Weiss shrugged and said nothing. Hmm, must be some guy-thing he didn't want her to know about. She'd get it out of him later. Weiss was such an easy touch when it came to interrogations, especially when he was tired. She shrugged herself and continued, "I know he's not what you would call a joker, never was, not like you. But when I was a kid, one strong memory I have is the three of us playing games."
"Such a surprise, the Bristows playing games," Weiss exclaimed in fake amazement. "Just out of curiosity, what game did your dad like?"
"Risk. Never, ever, play that game with him. You cannot win. And did he love it. And Boggle, he could find the words so fast. Wonder when's the last time.." She trailed off, thinking.
"Risk. Wow. What. A. Shock." Weiss said sarcastically, but then frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Who won when your parents played? Your mom or dad?"
"Pretty even. That's no surprise, either, is it?" Syd asked. Then she noted, "Then sometimes, I would be teamed up with one of them and we'd always win - I mean, whoever had me. I don't know if I really helped or if I just added to the competitiveness of it or if the other person let us win."
Weiss thought of making an analogy, but decided even he had enough of those for today. Probably. For now. "But they - both your parents -- played that with you when you were how old?"
Syd thought for a moment. "Starting at age four, I think."
"You played Risk, the game of global domination, at age four? Four?"
"Why? What's the big deal?" Syd asked, perplexed.
"Risk is not a game for four year olds. Most four year olds are playing Candyland and Chutes and Ladders, Syd. Not Risk. Risk is a game best played by adults."
"LIFE, I mean real life, is a game for adults, Weiss. Risk is nothing in comparison."
He stared at her. "And that is the one critical difference between you and Vaughn. Between Jack and Vaughn. The willingness to take risks." As Syd groped around the bed to find her Palm Pilot, he added, "Speaking of taking risks, holiday dinners around the Bristow-Vaughn table are going to be fascinating."
Syd chuckled, "Do you think Kendall will let my father have a carving knife to cut up the Thanksgiving turkey in my mom's cell?"
"Do you REALLY want to give your father a knife when he's in close proximity to your mother?"
"Good point. One of these days she's going to push him a little too far." She frowned and looked at the ceiling. "Why exactly is my mom always pushing my father? What does she want him to do?" Syd mumbled and looked over at Weiss.
Weiss stared at her and raised his eyebrows, wagging them at her. "Oh, I don't know. Why have you been pushing Vaughn? Hmm? See any parallels between the two of you and your parents?"
Syd giggled, then groaned, "Ooh, I need to veer away quickly from that exit on the highway of happy thoughts. Yuck. Crash imminent."
"'The highway of happy thoughts'? For the love of...Speaking of crashing, you NEED a nap. Go to sleep." Weiss shook his head and turned to walk back into his room.
"And whatever you do, don't make that comparison to Vaughn!" Sydney called out.
Weiss frowned from the doorway and demanded, "Do I look like an idiot?" Not waiting for an answer, he walked into his room, muttering, "That's all I need to do. Compare him to Jack and the two of them to that gruesome twosome, Jack and Irina, and all this hard work.I wish someone would pay this much attention to my love life. I mean the closest thing I've had to a date has been-"
"What's that, Weiss?" Syd called out.
"Nothing. Nothing, nothing. Just like my love life. Nothing." Then he raised his voice, "Go. To. Sleep. Vaughn was right, you need to rest. We have that scuba project tonight, remember?"
"Somehow I don't think the reason he wants me rested is deep sea diving," she laughed sleepily.
Weiss muttered, "Ear plugs, I need ear plugs. Or maybe a cork for that hole in my head I must have in order to have agreed to this."
Weiss poked his head through the connector door. "Cashew chicken isn't really alliterative. But I have to ask too. Are you drunk? High? Nuts?"
"No. I didn't sleep well last night and today was exhausting. I'm just a little punchy. And happy."
"I've seen you punchy, but.You alliterate when you are happy?"
"I am an English major. I alliterate when I haven't any angst." She laughed when Weiss rolled his eyes and continued with a little smirk, "Why not? It's better than overusing onomatopoeias. "
Weiss groaned. "Don't you think that's a little odd?"
"You're talking to the daughter of Jack Bristow and Irina Derevko and you think advocating alliteration is odd? When you consider the universe of options available to me, genetically speaking." She had curled up on the bed as Weiss paced back and forth.
Weiss stopped and stared at her. He saw the point. "Yeah. Keep on alliterating. I'll live with that. But, just out of curiosity, what does your mom do when she's happy?"
"Hmm. Let's see. Bait my father. Keep him off balance. Get him to yell."
"That's how you know she's happy? When she's driving your dad crazy? Hmm," he said looking at her speculatively, "Speaking of genetics.What were you doing to Vaughn in here? 'Size isn't important?' for example. Ring any bells?"
"Oh. Oh! Eww. Am I..? And wow, these walls are thin! But you know, before my mom pretended to die my parents did have good times together, we all did, and ---"
"And pretending to die - that's just a minor hiccup in any relationship, I suppose? Right up there with leaving the toilet seat up. Or-"
"Or going out with one woman while asking another woman out to dinner, telling her the watch story.."
"The watch story?" Weiss inquired. When Syd said nothing, he continued, "Somehow, whatever that is, I don't think that's the equivalent of being a KGB spy, Syd. But do you know why he played around like that? It was so atypical of him. Do you have any ideas? I don't think he's figured it out, yet."
As she smushed her face into the pillow, Syd mumbled, "Something he said today, I think I've got it. I don't think he does yet, though."
"What? What is it?"
"I, well. I'm not going to tell you before I tell him! But FYI, my dad once told me that when you're interrogating somebody, the most important intel often is revealed when someone just blurts something out."
"Oh. My. God. Please, please, please, don't tell me you're using techniques you learned from Jack Bristow."
"Sure. If they work. Why not?" She shrugged.
Weiss stared at her. Finally he said, "Sometimes, Syd, you scare the crap out of me. Poor Vaughn." Then he laughed. "Yeah, poor guy. My heart bleeds. Wait, I've got one more question."
She raised her eyebrows.
"What does your dad do when he's happy?"
"I don't know. If I knew the answer to that, to what makes him happy, I could have already figured out Rambaldi," Syd said dryly. Then she sighed, "My dad is so controlled, so concerned about maintaining control - how can you be happy when you do that 24/7? The only time he loses control is-"
"About, around your mom?" Weiss asked speculatively, thinking the parallels were getting just a touch creepy. He shook his head to clear it and asked, "Do you remember."
"What?"
"You were starting to say something about before your mom left. When the three of you were together, what made your dad happy? I mean, it's hard to tell now that much of anything. I've only seen him laugh once in all the years I've known him."
"You've seen him laugh?" Syd asked. Weiss shrugged and said nothing. Hmm, must be some guy-thing he didn't want her to know about. She'd get it out of him later. Weiss was such an easy touch when it came to interrogations, especially when he was tired. She shrugged herself and continued, "I know he's not what you would call a joker, never was, not like you. But when I was a kid, one strong memory I have is the three of us playing games."
"Such a surprise, the Bristows playing games," Weiss exclaimed in fake amazement. "Just out of curiosity, what game did your dad like?"
"Risk. Never, ever, play that game with him. You cannot win. And did he love it. And Boggle, he could find the words so fast. Wonder when's the last time.." She trailed off, thinking.
"Risk. Wow. What. A. Shock." Weiss said sarcastically, but then frowned as a thought occurred to him. "Who won when your parents played? Your mom or dad?"
"Pretty even. That's no surprise, either, is it?" Syd asked. Then she noted, "Then sometimes, I would be teamed up with one of them and we'd always win - I mean, whoever had me. I don't know if I really helped or if I just added to the competitiveness of it or if the other person let us win."
Weiss thought of making an analogy, but decided even he had enough of those for today. Probably. For now. "But they - both your parents -- played that with you when you were how old?"
Syd thought for a moment. "Starting at age four, I think."
"You played Risk, the game of global domination, at age four? Four?"
"Why? What's the big deal?" Syd asked, perplexed.
"Risk is not a game for four year olds. Most four year olds are playing Candyland and Chutes and Ladders, Syd. Not Risk. Risk is a game best played by adults."
"LIFE, I mean real life, is a game for adults, Weiss. Risk is nothing in comparison."
He stared at her. "And that is the one critical difference between you and Vaughn. Between Jack and Vaughn. The willingness to take risks." As Syd groped around the bed to find her Palm Pilot, he added, "Speaking of taking risks, holiday dinners around the Bristow-Vaughn table are going to be fascinating."
Syd chuckled, "Do you think Kendall will let my father have a carving knife to cut up the Thanksgiving turkey in my mom's cell?"
"Do you REALLY want to give your father a knife when he's in close proximity to your mother?"
"Good point. One of these days she's going to push him a little too far." She frowned and looked at the ceiling. "Why exactly is my mom always pushing my father? What does she want him to do?" Syd mumbled and looked over at Weiss.
Weiss stared at her and raised his eyebrows, wagging them at her. "Oh, I don't know. Why have you been pushing Vaughn? Hmm? See any parallels between the two of you and your parents?"
Syd giggled, then groaned, "Ooh, I need to veer away quickly from that exit on the highway of happy thoughts. Yuck. Crash imminent."
"'The highway of happy thoughts'? For the love of...Speaking of crashing, you NEED a nap. Go to sleep." Weiss shook his head and turned to walk back into his room.
"And whatever you do, don't make that comparison to Vaughn!" Sydney called out.
Weiss frowned from the doorway and demanded, "Do I look like an idiot?" Not waiting for an answer, he walked into his room, muttering, "That's all I need to do. Compare him to Jack and the two of them to that gruesome twosome, Jack and Irina, and all this hard work.I wish someone would pay this much attention to my love life. I mean the closest thing I've had to a date has been-"
"What's that, Weiss?" Syd called out.
"Nothing. Nothing, nothing. Just like my love life. Nothing." Then he raised his voice, "Go. To. Sleep. Vaughn was right, you need to rest. We have that scuba project tonight, remember?"
"Somehow I don't think the reason he wants me rested is deep sea diving," she laughed sleepily.
Weiss muttered, "Ear plugs, I need ear plugs. Or maybe a cork for that hole in my head I must have in order to have agreed to this."