Hi everyone. Here's the next chapter. Sorry for the terrible lack of updates--work has been CRAZY the last month.
Read and review, please!
Chapter 12: Over
Several weeks had passed since I broke the good news to Sydney about the elimination of SD-6 and the Alliance. I had expected her to be happy—ecstatic, even, but I had been shocked when she broke down into tears. I was only confused for a couple seconds before realizing that they weren't tears of sadness. Those I had seen enough to recognize.
These were tears of relief. Joy. Hope.
I had wrapped her gently in my arms, being careful of her still-healing body, and my tears had joined her own. We fell asleep that way—the first truly peaceful sleep either of us had experienced since this whole mess began.
Sydney had been released from the hospital several days after that. I was surprised at how easily we fell into a normal relationship with each other. We had both been counting the days until we could be together without covert meetings and secret messages, but we had also been worried about so many things.
What if our relationship didn't work once we could actually see each other freely? What if we fought? What about the CIA? Protocol?
But it did work, and we didn't fight. And it seemed that the CIA had decided to ignore our obviously unprofessional relationship. Perhaps they felt that Sydney had already been through enough. If worse came to worse and our relationship became an issue, I was completely prepared to quit, because I had realized that the more I saw Sydney, the more I needed her. I knew what I would be missing without her in my life.
I chuckled to myself as I sat at my desk at the CIA. It was so cliché, but we were made for each other.
My heart pounded a bit faster as I thought of Sydney, and I glanced at my watch, realizing that it was almost time to quit for the day. Sydney had been granted sick leave to recover from her injury, and though she was returning to her normal self, exhaustion was still hitting her hard and fast. I had volunteered to cook her dinner tonight, and I realized with annoyance that I had forgotten to stop at the grocery store the night before.
I cursed under my breath. I was going to be late. Grumbling at the fact that I would be prevented from seeing Sydney for at least another hour, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed her number by heart.
It rang four times before Sydney picked up.
"Hello?" She mumbled, yawning into the phone.
"Hey, Syd," I said, smiling at the sleepiness in her voice. "Still tired?" I asked. She laughed dryly.
"How could you tell?" She paused and I could almost see her pushing herself up to rest against the headboard of her bed. "Are you going to be here soon?" She asked, stifling another yawn.
"That's why I called. I forgot to pick up groceries last night, so I'm going to be a little late." She laughed again.
"What happened to 'always be prepared?'" She teased.
"What can I say?" I replied. "I got distracted."
"By what?" She asked.
"You."
"Hah!" She laughed sharply. "Good try, but flattery isn't gonna cut it this time, Boy Scout. I'm starved."
"Sorry," I sighed, trying to sound hurt. "I'll try to be quick."
"That's ok," she responded, feigning impatience. If only she knew how much I enjoyed the fact that we could joke like this. "Anything I can do to speed things along?" She asked.
"No…" I said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "The doctor told you no strenuous activity, remember?"
"Vaughn," she said, her voice firm. "I'd hardly call setting the table strenuous activity.
I paused, considering her statement.
"Vaughn." I could tell by the tone of her voice that her mind was already made up.
"Fine," I said, wisely realizing that this was a fight I wouldn't win. "But that's it. I want you lying down on the couch by the time I get there."
"Fine," she responded. She was pretending to pout, but I could tell that she was grinning.
"See you soon, Syd." I said.
"See you," she said, laughing as the line went dead.
* * * * *
I got to Sydney's house about 45 minutes later, juggling three bags of groceries in my arms as I knocked softly and struggled to open her front door.
I walked into the kitchen, my eyes falling on the neatly set table, two thin candles glowing softly in the otherwise dim room.
"Syd?" I called out as I unloaded my bags on the counter. She didn't respond, and I felt a sudden and familiar pang of worry.
I scanned the room, and the worry faded away as my eyes fell upon her sleeping form sprawled across the couch. I walked over and kneeled in front of her, debating whether or not to wake her.
Since getting back from the hospital, she had been sleeping for almost 15 hours a day. The doctor had told us that, with a head injury like Sydney's, this type of exhaustion was common. I suspected, though, that at least part of her exhaustion was a result of almost two years of continuous jet lag, stress, and sleepless nights.
Deciding that she needed the rest, I brushed several strands of hair away from her eyes and placed a soft kiss on her forehead before returning to the kitchen to fix dinner.
...TBC...
* * * * *
Read and review, please!
Chapter 12: Over
Several weeks had passed since I broke the good news to Sydney about the elimination of SD-6 and the Alliance. I had expected her to be happy—ecstatic, even, but I had been shocked when she broke down into tears. I was only confused for a couple seconds before realizing that they weren't tears of sadness. Those I had seen enough to recognize.
These were tears of relief. Joy. Hope.
I had wrapped her gently in my arms, being careful of her still-healing body, and my tears had joined her own. We fell asleep that way—the first truly peaceful sleep either of us had experienced since this whole mess began.
Sydney had been released from the hospital several days after that. I was surprised at how easily we fell into a normal relationship with each other. We had both been counting the days until we could be together without covert meetings and secret messages, but we had also been worried about so many things.
What if our relationship didn't work once we could actually see each other freely? What if we fought? What about the CIA? Protocol?
But it did work, and we didn't fight. And it seemed that the CIA had decided to ignore our obviously unprofessional relationship. Perhaps they felt that Sydney had already been through enough. If worse came to worse and our relationship became an issue, I was completely prepared to quit, because I had realized that the more I saw Sydney, the more I needed her. I knew what I would be missing without her in my life.
I chuckled to myself as I sat at my desk at the CIA. It was so cliché, but we were made for each other.
My heart pounded a bit faster as I thought of Sydney, and I glanced at my watch, realizing that it was almost time to quit for the day. Sydney had been granted sick leave to recover from her injury, and though she was returning to her normal self, exhaustion was still hitting her hard and fast. I had volunteered to cook her dinner tonight, and I realized with annoyance that I had forgotten to stop at the grocery store the night before.
I cursed under my breath. I was going to be late. Grumbling at the fact that I would be prevented from seeing Sydney for at least another hour, I grabbed my cell phone and dialed her number by heart.
It rang four times before Sydney picked up.
"Hello?" She mumbled, yawning into the phone.
"Hey, Syd," I said, smiling at the sleepiness in her voice. "Still tired?" I asked. She laughed dryly.
"How could you tell?" She paused and I could almost see her pushing herself up to rest against the headboard of her bed. "Are you going to be here soon?" She asked, stifling another yawn.
"That's why I called. I forgot to pick up groceries last night, so I'm going to be a little late." She laughed again.
"What happened to 'always be prepared?'" She teased.
"What can I say?" I replied. "I got distracted."
"By what?" She asked.
"You."
"Hah!" She laughed sharply. "Good try, but flattery isn't gonna cut it this time, Boy Scout. I'm starved."
"Sorry," I sighed, trying to sound hurt. "I'll try to be quick."
"That's ok," she responded, feigning impatience. If only she knew how much I enjoyed the fact that we could joke like this. "Anything I can do to speed things along?" She asked.
"No…" I said slowly, as if speaking to a child. "The doctor told you no strenuous activity, remember?"
"Vaughn," she said, her voice firm. "I'd hardly call setting the table strenuous activity.
I paused, considering her statement.
"Vaughn." I could tell by the tone of her voice that her mind was already made up.
"Fine," I said, wisely realizing that this was a fight I wouldn't win. "But that's it. I want you lying down on the couch by the time I get there."
"Fine," she responded. She was pretending to pout, but I could tell that she was grinning.
"See you soon, Syd." I said.
"See you," she said, laughing as the line went dead.
* * * * *
I got to Sydney's house about 45 minutes later, juggling three bags of groceries in my arms as I knocked softly and struggled to open her front door.
I walked into the kitchen, my eyes falling on the neatly set table, two thin candles glowing softly in the otherwise dim room.
"Syd?" I called out as I unloaded my bags on the counter. She didn't respond, and I felt a sudden and familiar pang of worry.
I scanned the room, and the worry faded away as my eyes fell upon her sleeping form sprawled across the couch. I walked over and kneeled in front of her, debating whether or not to wake her.
Since getting back from the hospital, she had been sleeping for almost 15 hours a day. The doctor had told us that, with a head injury like Sydney's, this type of exhaustion was common. I suspected, though, that at least part of her exhaustion was a result of almost two years of continuous jet lag, stress, and sleepless nights.
Deciding that she needed the rest, I brushed several strands of hair away from her eyes and placed a soft kiss on her forehead before returning to the kitchen to fix dinner.
...TBC...
* * * * *
