A/N: Hey guys... I know it's been like... 10 months since I ended this. Lol. But I saw that Dating Game fic up and I got this sudden idea for an epilogue so... I hope you guys remember this. Enjoy :-)

Oh, and remember. This story was written post Almost Thirty Years. So Vaughn had been suspended, Sydney had thought he was dead, the Alliance still existed... yeah, read the rest of the fic. Refresh your memory. Lol.

Strike a Match~ Epilogue

~One Week After the Show~

*Vaughn POV*

"So, how are things going with Sydney?" Weiss asked me while I shuffled through the pages of an extremely long debrief.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I think you know exactly what I mean," Weiss insisted.

"You ask it like we're a couple or something," I commented.

My friend widened his eyes in mock surprise. "You're not?" he gasped.

"Shut up. Of course we're not."

"Mike, I thought the whole point of these dating game show things were to stay with the girl if you like her."

"I'm going to go out on a ledge here and assume that most people who go on those moronic shows aren't double agents and their supposedly dead CIA handler," I pointed out.

"Well, I guess you've got a point there," Weiss admitted, and went back to his work, and me to mine. For a few minutes I thought he'd leave me alone.

I'm too optimistic sometimes.

"So you haven't even kissed her yet?" he pried like a teenage girl.

"Eric, look at me," I instructed, facing him.

"Yeah, you're perfectly misshapen. So?"

I ignored his insult and continued. "Do I look that happy to you?"

"Well damn it, Mike, what are you waiting for? A chorus and an arrangement of dancers to pop out perform 'Kiss the Girl' dressed as little red lobsters and blue and yellow fish?"

"Nothing quite that extreme," I answered. "The destruction of SD-6, maybe?"

Weiss rolled his eyes. "Man, it's so perfect. After the whole show thing Devlin reassigned you as her handler. You see her all the time, and now you can see her in public. How long are you going to stall this?"

I put down the folder and placed it neatly at the corner of my desk, then picked up the next stack of papers I was expected to fill out. "How long before you leave me alone?"

He frowned in a very parent-like manner and stared at me. "Mike," he said simply, as though the one syllable statement would convince me to do something as incredibly insane as decide play tonsil hockey with the double agent I'm handling.

"Mike," he said again, after my silence. No. I am not going to give in. I'm going to be strong, responsible, by the book Michael Vaughn. I am not letting Weiss bait me into his adolescent little ploys just by saying my name.  

Oh, screw it. I'm convinced. Hell, we went on a date. We held hands. We hugged when it was over. I can do this. Next time I see her, I'm kissing her. I'm going to take her by the arms, pull her over, and kiss her as if we were the inventors of tonsil hockey.

Shit. Weiss is too damn good at that.

Finally, he left my office, whistling the tune of the familiar Disney song as he shut the door behind him. I threw a crumpled paper ball at him. It missed. He grinned and gave me a thumbs up through the window then walked away.  

***

"...so the Angel Nunzeo operation ended up really slowing down SD-6 after all," Sydney was saying as we stood in the chilly frozen section of the supermarket. She headed for produce as we talked.

"Um, right..." I answered distantly, not really listening to the question. I was mildly distracted (mildly... ahem) eyeing Sydney and the way she rolled each orange around in her palms before dropping it in the clear plastic bag at her arm. She kept her brown eyes down, avoiding my gaze and keeping herself turned slightly away from me.

"Syd," I said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"You're allowed to acknowledge me, remember? We met on a TV show..." I supplied, smiling a little as she looked up and realized what she'd been doing.

"Oh yeah... I know... I'm just so used to it by now. Old habits die hard, I guess."

She grinned at me, and her whole face suddenly glowed and her eyes sparkled. I smiled back at her, probably looking like a complete dork. And I knew I was right then, because I'd used the word 'dork' in my own mind.

Sydney placed the bag of oranges in her shopping basket after skillfully pulling a tight knot in it, then took a step towards the shelf of salads behind me. I turned at the same time and suddenly, we were really close. And I mean 8th- grade- graduation- dance-"God Must Have Spent a Little More Time on You"- close.

And that's when a little annoying voice started to sing in the back of my head, sounding astoundingly like an irritating cross of Sponge Bob Square Pants and Weiss. Oh God, this is so not a good time. Stop it, you damn voices! Stop!

 "There you see her, sitting there across the way. She don't got a lot to say but there's something about her. And you don't know why but you're dying to try. You wanna kiss the girl."

Maybe it was because of the bump that had grown on my head this morning after I'd smacked into a filing cabinet, but I suddenly could make out the shapes of little crimson lobsters with Weiss's face dancing around me in circles and snapping their claws as they sang.

Apparently, Sydney couldn't see them. She just saw me. And through the small imaginary critters, I could see her better than ever.

 "Yes, you want her. Look at her, you know you do. Possible she wants you too, there is only one way to ask her. It don't take a word, not a single word. Go on and kiss the girl."

I knew Sponge Bob Square Weiss wasn't planning on shutting up any time soon. This was all on me now.

"Syd..." I whispered, my throat suddenly choked.

She moved her gaze to meet mine. "Vaughn?"

Very slowly, as though time itself was freezing among the popsicles and ice cream cartons, I reached out my hand. Finally, it grazed the skin on her cheek. Tentatively, I moved forward, waiting for her acceptance.

She pulled away just a little, placing her hand on mine and removing it from her face, linking it with her own. "Not here..." she whispered, and put down her basket. She tugged slightly and led me outside to a small alleyway by the supermarket.

"So..." I began.

"So..." she repeated quietly, looking up at me with expectant eyes.

"So... this will change things..." I pointed out, not sure if it was the right moment to be mentioning that.

Sydney placed a cool hand at the back of my neck and her eyes filled with sincerity. "For the better."

I smiled a little and put my hand to her cheek again, and we slowly leaned towards each other. My eyes closed, and I felt her lips touch mine.

 "Don't stop now. Don't try to hide it how you wanna kiss the girl. Whoa- whoa. Sha la la la la la. Float along, and listen to the song. The song say kiss the girl. Sha la la la la. The music play, do what the music say. You gotta kiss the girl."

It could have been hours. That's what it felt like. But I knew it was only a few minutes. Either way, it wasn't nearly long enough. I could have easily enjoyed having her lips pressed against mine forever.

But finally, we broke apart and very slowly, eyes still closed, moved our faces away from each other. I opened my eyes unhurriedly and smiled widely at her, keeping my hand at her cheek.

"Wow..." she whispered.

"Took the words out of my mouth," I breathed right before I stole her lips again.

***

That night, Sydney and I sat side by side on my couch. Her head lay on my shoulder and my right arm was around her. With my left hand, I surfed through the channels.

"Hey, this one looks pretty good..." Sydney commented laughingly. I grinned and left the station on.

"Welcome to Strike a Match, California's most popular dating game! I'm your host, Max Dowd!" the man on the TV blared. Oh, God. Those first five minutes of the show hadn't been the best of my life. But look what it had brought.

"Can you believe something so good came out of that horrifying experience?" I wondered aloud suddenly.

Sydney smiled up at me. "I almost can't." She leaned up at kissed me softly, then we settled in again and returned out gaze to the television where Sean was introducing the contestants.

"And Bachelor number three, Eric Weiss!"

Ok. O.K. I couldn't have heard that... I defiantly heard that wrong. No freaking way.

But then I looked down at Sydney, who looked as wide eyed as I did.

We silently looked back at the screen. There it was. Plain as day. My best friend sitting on one of those damn pink stools, grinning foolishly at the audience and waving.

Simultaneously, Sydney and I groaned.

"Not again..."

END

***

A/N: Yeah... weird. Lol. Hopefully good though. I hope those of you who enjoyed the rest of the fic liked this, too. :-D And, as always, thanks to Penny for all of your help! You rock, Hun!