"OW!"
Sydney let out a string of curses, their ever-increasing sophistication paying creditable homage to her multilingual abilities. She had just attempted, perhaps over ambitiously, to do some basic katas on her injured foot. She hated being in anything less than perfect health; it was the loss of function that got to her the most. Not being able to rely on her own body was one of the worst things she could think of. Granted, this was a very minor injury in comparison to what she had suffered in the past, but it still made her feel vulnerable.
Besides, she desperately needed an outlet for her rage against Francie's former boyfriend.
It wasn't just the sense of betrayal and anger that she felt on behalf of Francie, which was natural enough. It was mixed with a large amount of guilt. Special Agent Sydney Bristow, trained to the highest level in deception and secrecy, was unable to work out that her best friend was dating a player.
Charlie wasn't obvious--experienced deceivers never were--and any average person would have taken his seemingly sincere proclamations of stupidly and resolutions for redemptions.
But Sydney Bristow was about as far away from average as it was possible to get.
A selfish part of her relished the everyday simplicity of normality. When she came home from saving the life of yet another key diplomat crucial to the political stability of the United States, or from some other mission, she wanted nothing more than to pretend, if only for awhile, that the most pressing thing on her mind was Francie's love life.
Does that make me a selfish user? Is "Sydney the roommate" just another one of my many fronts?
As she became increasingly involved in the hunt for the manuscript and, more recently, "The one who holds all," Sydney was becoming aware that she was losing the ability to separate her two worlds. The ability that allowed her to slip from the world-saving agent college student in the blink of an eye or the removing of a wig was failing.
Such a failure could be deadly.
Sydney knew that a large part of her problem revolved around Agent Michael Vaughn.
Reaching a rapid, albeit impulsive, decision, Sydney sat down and reached for the phone, dialing the number swiftly. She waited impatiently for the receiver to be picked up.
"Meet me at the pier in 2 hours," she said tonelessly into the phone.
It was a breech of protocol. Normally their superiors strictly sanctioned their correspondence. Sydney hoped that Vaughn would understand the reasoning behind her actions and acknowledge that, whether they wanted to or not, they would have to deal with the rift between them and not just bury it under layers of professionalism.
Before she had time to comprehend the full implications of her actions the door opened and Francie entered.
Sydney watched her friend carefully as Francie paused in the doorway to talk to the person standing behind her.
"Come in, Matt."
Sydney was genuinely surprised by the optimism in Francie's voice. She could think of no other word to describe it. While being far from happy, it held none of the absolute despair she had feared.
With piqued interest Sydney surveyed the man who stood hesitantly in the doorway.
Matt Coleman was of average height with messy brown-black hair that seemed to constantly fall into his startling blue eyes. His style of dress suggested casual but self-conscious. Sydney could tell by the concerned glances he kept throwing at Francie that he was acutely aware of the strain Francie was exerting to keep it together.
Rising stiffly to her feet, Sydney hobbled over and gave her friend a hug, whispering softly as she led Francie back to the couch and gesturing for Matt to follow as she did so.
Francie pulled back as Matt took the seat opposite her and clasped his hands over the coffee table as he waited for introductions.
"Matt, this is my best friend, Sydney Bristow. Sydney, this is Matt," Francie said, fighting another wave of tears that threatened to corrupt her tenuous control.
Sydney and Matt greeted each other warmly, instantly brought together by their mutual concern for her. Sensing this, Francie rose to her feet.
"I'll leave you two to get to know each other." She said this with false cheerfulness as she felt her control slipping.
Two identically concerned faces followed her as she hurried to the bedroom.
Matt and Sydney exchanged worried glances.
"How is she?" Sydney eventually ventured, dreading the answer but needing to know at the same time.
"We haven't quite gotten past 'Men are bastards,' but I think she'll be okay," Matt said quietly. The firmness of his conviction reminded Sydney sharply of Vaughn. She had seen the exact same intensity mirrored in his green eyes.
Sydney disguised the tremble in her voice with the aid of her training, but she was still moved by the disturbingly lovesick comparison.
"Not what you expected on a first date, huh?" she said quietly. The question was a sort of test, something else she could attribute to her years of covert recon missions. She felt a twisted sense of relief when she realized that her voice was a perfect mimic of a best friend laced with realism.
"'If possible, ask questions that will force the subject to reveal true character traits before obtaining objective."
Sensing this, Matt chose his words. "I expected nothing and--you may find this hard to believeĀ--but I expect nothing from Francie." Meeting her gaze evenly, he continued, "I'm not saying I don't want more, but that will be her choice entirely. A choice which, at the moment, she is not in a state of mind to make."
"She needs a true friend," Sydney concluded, noting that Matt spoke the words with complete sincerity. The agent didn't even need her automatic monitoring of pulse and body language. She was also grateful that he had been honest that he did have feelings for Francie.
Matt sensed an
underpinning sadness to Sydney's words but did not make any judgment. Something
in the distant look in her eyes struck him as familiar and it took him awhile
to recall that Vaughn had worn close to the same expression for the last month.
"I would like to be that to her, Sydney," Matt said, flipping his stray fringe out of his eyes.
"Good," Sydney said softly, and Matt could have sworn he saw sheen of tears in her eyes.
He was about to speak again when the phone rang, making Sydney jump.
Matt watched as her expression turned blank for a second before she picked up the phone.
"Wrong number." Her voice was flat and emotionless.
Hanging up the phone, Sydney forced her features into a quick smile.
"I should go and check on Francie," she said.
