Okay just so you know. 0 reviews is VERY disheartening. So if there's anyone out there who does find this fic unbelievably boring by all means speak up!

Sydney sighed and slouched farther into the chair. Once she got to Sloane's office he sent her to the interrogation room and had her fill out a statement about the mission in Taipei. That was two hours ago.
She was getting angrier and angrier by the minute. It had been almost a week since she'd gotten a shower, her missing teeth were killing her, and she wanted to wash the stupid red dye out of her hair. She sighed thinking about how damn inconsiderate it was of the CIA to make her wait around for hours after being tortured to get the device they wanted.
'You'd think they'd be a little bit more appreciative,' she thought to herself.
Suddenly the door opened and a young man with tan hair walked in. "Hi, I'm Michael Vaughn," he greeted her in a friendly manner.
She stared at him.
He waited for a moment before moving on, "I'm supposed to talk to you about your statement about the mission in Taipei."
She crossed her arms across her chest and shifted with boredom.
"Why don't we go talk in my office," he suggested. He moved to the door and held it open looking at her expectantly. She paused for a moment to see if she could intimidate him into changing his mind, but he didn't so she stood up and followed him out the door.

In his office she plopped down into a chair while he went around to the desk. She stared at the picture of him with his arm around a blonde woman. He turned the picture away from her, and she looked up at him disinterestedly.
"Okay, here's the deal. Executive Director Sloane has recommended that you be transferred off freelance duty-"Agent Vaughn explained.
"He what?" Sydney asked.
"Sloane feels that you would be better off working in another department-"
Sydney shook hear head in disbelief and pulled a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket and lit one up.
"Would you mind not smoking in here?" Vaughn asked. She stared at him and exhaled a cloud of smoke in response.
"I see what's going on, so you can just go ahead and put in your little report that I'm unstable and a risk to The Agency........give them a reason to kick me out. See if I care." she said.
"Sloane's concern is mainly for your safety. On the mission in Taipei you were out of contact for nearly three weeks-"
"I still got your device didn't I?" she cut in harshly.
"Yes, but you also almost got killed in the process," he pointed out, leaned forward, took the cigarette out of her hand a deposited it in a mug of coffee that was now cold.
"If you'll excuse me I'll see if your evaluation from Dr. Barnett is ready," he said and left the room.
Sydney sighed irritated. Wonderful, they were having the CIA shrink go over her statement. She took out a another cigarette and her match book and lit it. She tossed the match into the waste basket and smiled when a little bit of smoke began to rise out the top.
Vaughn came back in the door. "Well they aren't done yet but I'll be in contact once they are. You need a dentist. Do you have one? Because I can get you a name."
"I'm fine," she cut in, "So you expect me to be working for you?"
"Actually we'll both be working under Director Kendall with the FBI," he explained, "Out joint task forces center is about three miles away from your home......what?"
She laughed and shook her head, "You wouldn't tell me the location until it was certain that I was going to be working there."
"Unless I had an instinct about you," he said jokingly. She stared at him skeptically.
"I'm not trying to play you," he said.
"Yeah, we'll see," she said and stood to leave the office. At the door she stopped and turned around, "By the way, your garbage can is on fire."
She continued away from the office, smirking at the obscenities coming from behind her.
'I win again,' she thought triumphantly.

Two Weeks Later

"Seriously Syd! You would not believe this customer!" Francie exclaimed while fixing up her morning cup of coffee.
"Yeah?" She asked as she sat down at the kitchen table and lit a cigarette.
"Oh yeah! He actually had the audacity to ask if I washed my hands after using the bathroom!" She said.
Sydney laughed, "Oh, hon, I'm sorry."
"Oh that's not the best part after that he-Sydney!" Francie glared as the turned around. Sydney sighed, feeling like a child caught doing something naughty. "Okay, I know we've been over this a million times but seriously girl!"
"Fran I know-"
"Sydney..........you hate smoking!" Francie said sitting down in front of her, "In college you once caught me smoking at a party and didn't let me hear the end of it until we graduated! Our sophomore year you even asked your British Lit professor to not smoke in class!"
"I know!" Sydney said again.
"Honey, I'm just trying to help you. I know that there is no possible way your opinion has changed that much," she said softly.
Sydney sighed. Francie was right, she had always despised smoking. She started after Danny's death because it was a distraction, and she was now just because it had become a habit. She stared at the burning white stick in her hand. "You're right!" she said suddenly.
It caught Francie off guard, "What?"
"You're right. If I don't stop now I'll hate myself, so take them," she said and handed over her pack and matchbook.
"Are you sure?" Francie asked cautiously.
"Yes, I'm sure! Go, go! Get them away from me!" Sydney laughed.
"Okay," Francie said and walked away giggling.
Sydney shook her head and stood up, "I've got to get to work. See you later."
"Bye!" Francie called after her.

Sydney walked through the halls of the joint task forces center looking over the op tech for the mission she was leaving for that night. When she was first transferred she expected that it would be a step down, but what they were doing was actually just as big, if not bigger, than what she had been doing for Sloane. As she turned the corner her father appeared in front of her.
"Dad, hey," she said.
"Hi," he answered, "I hear you're going to Morocco?"
"Yeah, tonight actually," she answered.
"Ahh," he nodded. They stood in an awkward silence for a moment. She had only found out that he worked for the CIA also a little while ago. She had been angry at him for not telling her so things had been even more tense than usual between them. Finally she decided that since she seemed to be on a self improving track that day, so she might as well keep with it.
"Dad... could we have dinner? How about Thursday, do you have plans?" She asked. The look on his face made her want to scream. Why should she feel stupid for something like asking her father to eat dinner with her? Normal people did that right?
"No. Thursday. Dinner. That'll be fine," he said. He hesitated like he wanted to say more but simply walked off.
She stood for a moment and then turned her attention back to the op tech.

Thursday

Forty-three minutes and twenty seconds. That was exactly how long she waited alone at the restaurant before her father called to tell her he couldn't make. 'Yeah, couldn't! More like wouldn't!' she thought to herself. She squinted her eyes together very hard to try to keep back the tears. She refused to cry over this. She was not a little girl anymore. If he didn't want to know her then that was his problem!

"I'm sorry to call you," she said a few minutes later at the pier. She couldn't believe that she was standing here sobbing in front of a man she hardly knew. However, she found herself dialing Vaughn's number without even realizing what she was doing, "I just didn't know who else to call. My father and I were supposed to have dinner tonight. The first time since I was a kid. I can't even remember the last time. He just didn't show. He said he had work. He didn't have work."
She paused, "This isn't just about my dad. It's....it's everything. You read about how Danny died right?"
Vaughn nodded.
"Well after that happened. I just lost it I guess. My life has been out of control ever since then and I don't know how to get it back."
"Sydney...." he started gently.
"I feel like I'm losing my mind! Like I don't even know who I am anymore, or what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it!" she said sobbing.
"I mean, when I first met you I....I lit your trashcan in fire for no particular reason," she exclaimed then added, "Sorry about that by the way."
He laughed then turned serious again, "Okay, listen to me. There's something you need to know. When you first walked into my office with that stupid Bozo hair, I thought you were crazy. I thought that there was no way anyone in the right mind trust you with a mission of national security. But I watched you, and I read your statement, and I've seen... I've seen how you think, I've seen how you work, I've seen how you are in this job. In this job, you see darkness. You see the worst in people and though the jobs are different and the missions change, and the enemies have a thousand names, the one crucial thing, the one real responsibility you have is to not let your rage, and your resentment, and your disgust, darken you. When you're at your absolute lowest, at your most depressed, just remember that you can always... you know. You got my number."
She looked at the man standing next to her who she had first regarded as an idiotic desk jockey and wondered what it was in her that made her trust him enough to open up to him. She turned back out toward the ocean and watched the dark waves. "Thank you," she finally said.