Title: A Story of Friendship - Thoughts of Syd and Will

Author: K. Ackles

Summary: It's after the supposed two years, and both Will and Sydney have thoughts to think about.

A/N: I am omnipotent, and am expressing what they feel, and if they don't really feel this, then tough, because they feel like this in the little 'Alias' script in my head.

Rating: G

Pairing: To a minute degree there is a tiny smidge of a hint of S/V, but nothing happens, so don't get worked up about it (shippers, that means you).

Disclaimer: If I owned this stuff, trust me, you'd know about it. Alias would never be the same again. Oh Bradley...

Will looked outside, and saw Sydney walking up the path to the door. As she walked through the door, she flashed him a smile. An amazing crest-white smile.. Will smiled back at her. His hair ruffled, just like she had always known it. His bright blue eyes sparkled, the light dancing over them. She was drawn into his eyes, and for a minute, couldn't remember what she wanted to say to him. Oh well. At that moment, it didn't matter.

Ever since she had returned from Hong Kong, Sydney had been spending more time with Will. He seemed to be the only one who wasn't treating her as if she was someone else. The only one who saw her for who she remembered being, and not who they thought she had become. It was comforting to know that after two years, Will was still...Will. With his dazzling blue eyes, quirky sense of humour and innocent smile, he was every bit the same as she remembered him.

What she still felt for Vaughn didn't matter when she was with Will. With him it was different, peaceful. There was no electric spark between them, it was just Will and Sydney, still best friends. Without Francie between them, they felt lonely, and yet in those two long years, Will managed to get over her...and Sydney. He managed to forge himself a strange new life which concerned only him. Will had been deeply scarred by the death of Francie, and by the apparent death of Sydney. To have her back he felt...like Will. The old Will. The Will he used to be before he had distanced himself from people, the Will that sat in silence at the bar, next to Jack Bristow, without saying a word.

Jack and Will had become close during the time Sydney had been missing. They both grieved over her loss. The fact that her body had never been discovered offered them no closure. They sat together at the bar. Silent. Drinking stiff drinks. Each understanding the other's pain, still too hurt to voice it. Sydney Bristow meant the world to those two men. Those two men who had lost the only women who mattered in their lives. Irina, Francie and Sydney. As the two men sat in the same bar night after night, they forged a bond. Not a friendship, for a friend would have voiced his feelings, but rather a connection between them, which allowed them to keep going. On the small hope that Sydney was still out there, they kept going.

After seven hundred and forty six days-had it really been so long?-they may have given up hope, but after seven hundred and forty seven days, Sydney was back. They had found her. Will didn't have to be alone anymore. Afraid to let anyone become close to him, in case he had to feel that pain again. He never wanted to feel like that again. He thought that if that were ever to happen to him again, he might lose himself. Will's fault, in the world of espionage, was that he felt too much. Jack, like many other agents, had found ways to cope with feeling. The ability to distance his thinking from his emotional feeling. But Will Tippin felt, and he would always feel. He was unable to distance himself from his emotions, and when he lost Sydney, he felt floodgates open. To feel such pain like that again-Will was sure that it would kill him.

Now, he had her back. It took time for him to erase the feelings that he had for Sydney after she came back. Not the romantic feelings, but the feeling that he was seeing the dead walk. That it couldn't really be Sydney. To see her in front of him, and to think that, in his heart, she was dead. When Will was able to leap over that hurdle, he had come to appreciate Sydney on a new level. He came to the quick realisation that, maybe, he neglected Sydney in his 'previous life'. He never wanted to do that again.

Sydney was his last grip on reality, and he wouldn't abuse that connection again. He had his lifeline back, and he wanted to treat her like a god, and hold her up above his head for everyone to see. And he wanted to cradle her gently in his arms, so she wouldn't break. He wanted to whisper to her that it would all be okay. That Vaughn didn't matter. That he could protect her. Keep her safe. Keep he happy. Keep her out of harms way.

Vaughn had been married while Sydney was away. Will didn't hate him for it. Although people thought he would hate Vaughn for doing that, Will admired the man's ability to move on after his grief. Will had never finished grieving. Vaughn had come to accept that he would never see her again, that he had lost her. He had married another. Will was never able to see women in the same way, without thinking of her. Not a lover, but a best friend. Somebody he could talk to in the middle of the night. Call her up and just talk, for absolutely no reason, about nothing. It sounded like a girlie thing to him, when he thought about it, but those late night calls were...relaxing. She was always there for him. He was glad Vaughn could find somebody like that. That he was happy. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Vaughn.

Maybe some part of him wanted to see Vaughn and Sydney together, to soothe her aching heart, but he knew that could never happen. He hurt when he saw her hurt, and he wanted to stop it for her. Not to be the person who stopped it necessarily, but just for the pain to stop. They had that connection. Even when she put on a brave face, and smiled at him, he knew she was hurting. He also knew that she would eventually get over it, the way Vaughn had, the way he was unable to. Sydney had that amazing emotional strength.

Although she wasn't able to lose touch of her emotions the way her father could, she was able to compartmentalise, and forget her pains while she was focused elsewhere. Yet while her mind was free to wander, she felt everything come together. To drown her beneath her own emotions. She needed to keep busy, and she knew that. Will knew that about her, and he kept her as busy as possible. He invited her out for jogs, to the theatre, out for dinner, just a ride on the town, a stay-at-home popcorn and movie-marathon, yoga classes. That had been his best idea, she thought. While she did yoga, she felt a peace within herself which she had never felt before.

The art of meditation was a fine one, and one that Sydney was unable to master. The one thing she was unable to do, was the one thing she needed to do. The yoga enabled her to feel calm, but it was the calm before the storm-it didn't last for long. When it all came back to her, she was overwhelmed. The looks she had received upon her return. The shock to discover Vaughn was married, that her mother was still missing, that her father had become more distant than ever. Amongst everything-the calamity, the frenzy and the chaos-stood Will Tippin. Her best friend. He stood alone, standing with his hand extended, ready to do whatever it took to make her feel right again.

He was her lifeline. Her link to reality. Perhaps it was the thought of Vaughn that brought her back to Los Angeles, but it was Will who kept her hanging on. He kept them together. She felt as though he held her up, he made her special, made her feel glamorous. And he kept her safe. Lying on the couch, watching movies with her head in his lap, his arm draped over her shoulder, she felt safe. Will made her feel safe. He had a calm manner to him which helped her feel calm. Though not a dominating presence, he was there. Waiting to be there for her whenever she needed him.

They need each other. Inseparable, they fit together. They sat. Each needing the other to hold on to themselves. Their friendship ran deep, but was always and only that. It may have felt different for each of them at stages, but it was always that. Together, they completed each other, in a way which made it possible for them to be with other people. Neither of them had ever had that before. It took them seven hundred and forty-seven long days apart to realise they needed to be together; friends, forever. Lying on the couch, watching old movies, and eating buttered popcorn, together.