Title: Ham and Cheese

Author: DOKChairman

Time: No particular time frame. Assume everything that has happened up to the second season is fair game.

Disclaimer: I do not own Alias. If you really believe I own Alias, then I have some beach front property to sell you in Utah. No really, I do. Just give me a call at 1-800-333-SUCKER and we'll see about setting you up. Anyway, as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by whoever's reading this, you know who you are, J. J. Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, and ABC (Disney's front for their attempt at world domination) own Alias.


A/N: Jada Lynne, you've given me so much to write about, I don't know where to start. First, you're wrong. Jennifer Garner in a bikini would not make me change my mind about the ending for For Love of Country. Now, Jennifer out of her bikini would be another matter entirely :). Second, I feel an odd sense of pride at knowing that my writing is causing another student to fail their finals. I am cackling evilly in glee. If your psych prof asks you why you failed, just point to this story and say you were doing a case study on the works of a deranged mind. Throw out words like paranoid schizophrenia and obsessive compulsive disorder, and tell him/her that I suffer from delusions of adequacy. I've taken psych classes in the past and the profs just love that stuff.

Thirdly, blaming others for your poor test scores never work. I mean, if telling your prof that the reason you failed your Sociology final was because the keg you drank the night before was full of beer instead of the milk it clearly stated was inside, doesn't work, then I'm afraid you're screwed. Fourthly, because the fact that this note is becoming horribly long winded, you can try to lock me up in your basement, but I am amazingly spry. Maybe if Jennifer was down there urging me on, I would be willing to write you a never ending string of Vaughn stories, but it is highly unlikely.



Chapter 3: And so the duck said, "Quack!"


"So, in closing, if it sounds like a duck, struts like a duck, and fucks like a duck, it must be a really horny goose."

Loud guffaws broke out amongst the assembled group and Weiss smiled broadly. He mentally patted himself on the back and glanced over at his partner and best friend. When he did, a small scowl broke out on his face. Here he was, providing amusement and lightening the tense atmosphere, and yet Vaughn somehow managed to score all the hot chicks. It just wasn't fair.

Vaughn, for his part, was decidedly uncomfortable. Who wouldn't be uncomfortable when two insanely beautiful blonde women were trying their hardest to occupy every facet of his attention? It goes without saying. After all, Vaughn only wanted Sydney. Lovely, beautiful, sexy as hell Sydney. Ahhhh, Sydney.

Vaughn shook his head violently at that thought. He began to berate himself for thinking such wishful thoughts. Bad Vaughn! How dare you think of Sydney like that, you obsessive freak. You can't break protocol. Protocol is a sacred bond.

Meanwhile, the two blondes were arguing with each other over who Vaughn belonged to. Blonde #1 said, "He's mine! I saw him first!"

Naturally, Blonde #2 disagreed. "I don't think so you skanky bitch! I saw him first! Back off!"

Blonde #1 let out a cry of outrage and leapt at Blonde #2. Soon both blondes were wriggling on the floor, fighting each other. By now, of course, all the men in the deli were staring at the blondes in rapt fascination. After all, everyone knows that a man cannot resist watching two women fighting. It's just not possible.

Seconds later, a ring had formed around the two wrestling blondes, and the brunette that Weiss had been checking out earlier was chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!"

Bets were being taken. "I got twenty on the blonde one!" One guy shouted.

Another shouted, "They're both blonde, you idiot!"

"Uh...right! Fine, twenty on the one that just lost her shirt."

Money began changing hands, and Vaughn moved over to stand next to Weiss who had a smug smirk on his face. Weiss noticed the dour look on Vaughn's face and frowned. "You know, this is the kind of stuff men have dreams about. Dear Penthouse forum....and such and such. I would think you'd be enjoying this."

Vaughn tried to smile, but he only got about halfway. He explained his attitude to his baffled friend, "Normally, I would. But life just doesn't seem as fun without Sydney. Don't you know its all about Sydney?"

Weiss sighed in violent exasperation. He then smacked Vaughn upside the head. "What the hell is wrong with you man? You don't need Sydney."

Vaughn stared at Weiss incredulously. "But without Sydney, I'd never show up in any scenes!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Weiss asked confusedly.

"Don't you know?" Weiss just looked blank. Vaughn added, "Come on! Don't tell me you haven't seen those cameras following us around."

Weiss still had no idea what Vaughn was talking about. "Sorry man, I have no idea."

Vaughn threw his hands up in the air in defeat. Wearily he said, "Never mind." He then turned back to find out how the fight was progressing. From what Vaughn could see through the ring of onlookers, it looked like the fight was drawing to a close.

Now, of course, following the natural order of events that always progress from a fight between two hot women, the two blondes were making out. Of course, this is how everyone expected the fight to end. There was never any doubt. Vaughn was just happy the women were no longer focused on him.

Since the fight had drawn to its inevitable conclusion, it was time to collect debts. "Ok, pay up guys. It has been unanimously decided by the deli boxing commission that the blonde(who just happened to be Blonde #1 for all you continuity purists out there) on top has won by technical knockout."

Several loud groans could be heard. Apparently, most people had placed their bets on Blonde #2. Her tough talk had obviously threw them off.

One of the particularly loud grumblers was the leader of the four Quebecers. He handed his money, fifty dollars, to the eventual winner. The winner took one look at the money and said angrily, "Hey! What is this crap? It's Canadian!"

The leader's face flushed in embarrassment and he said meekly, "I'm sorry. We sort of forgot to get some American money before we came down here. That's all I have."

The man just shook his head in disgust. He turned his back on the leader and mumbled angrily to himself, "Damn money is about as useful as toilet paper." Of course, he still pocketed the money.

Vaughn walked up to the lead Quebecer, who was still recovering from his embarrassment, and asked him a question that had intrigued him for a while. "Why are you here?"

"It's a funny story actually. You see, we left Quebec to go to New York City where we were going to attack the United Nations, but he," The leader pointed an accusatory finger at one of the other Quebecers, "made a wrong turn. Before I knew what was going on, we were already halfway to L.A. So I figured we might as well just keep going."

The man paused. "Besides, New York gets screwed enough as it is, so we decided to spread the love a little bit. I mean, honestly, when was the last time you saw L.A. get its ass kicked in a movie?"

Vaughn couldn't argue with the man, he made some valid points. The leader continued. "Speaking of which, did you know that more and more movies are being made in Canada these days?"

Vaughn was insulted that he would ask that. "Of course I know. I live in L.A. after all. I read Variety just like everyone else." Vaughn then mumbled under his breath, "Damn Canadians."

The Quebecer continued on, completely oblivious to Vaughn's discomfort. "Don't you think that's great? Gives Canada a chance to spread its influence; gives us a voice in Hollywood. Of course all the movies are in English, but we can only work on so many problems at once."

Vaughn was outraged. "Great? Great!? Are you kidding? Hollywood loses hundreds of millions of dollars every year because of the great northern migration."

The Quebecer shrugged his shoulders in indifference. "Oh well. Not my problem."

Vaughn wanted to violently smack the man for his apathy. But then he remembered that he had a gun, and so did three of his friends, so he restrained himself. Vaughn left the Quebecer before he could lose control and went in search of Weiss.

He spotted his friend talking to the beautiful brunette he had seen Weiss checking out earlier. He walked over, hoping to butt in, he was bored and pissing Weiss off would be fun, and overhead their conversation.

Weiss exclaimed loudly, "You mean to tell me you've never been kissed before?"

The brunette nodded sadly. "Nope. I could never find that right guy."

Weiss couldn't help but stare at her incredulously. "Next thing you'll be telling me is that you've never been to a one-hour photoshop before."

The brunette's eyes widened in amazement. "Wow! They have one-hour photoshops now?"

Weiss groaned. That was when Vaughn made his appearance known. Sitting down heavily in the booth next to Weiss, he flashed the brunette a charming smile. Vaughn said to a surprised Weiss, "Why don't you introduce me to your new friend."

Weiss grudgingly made introductions, "Michael Vaughn, this is Connie Drew. Connie Drew, meet Michael Vaughn."

Vaughn politely stuck his hand over the table and shook the hand of the woman opposite him. Naturally, Connie began to swoon. Obviously, the green eyed, gorgeous Vaughn was swoon worthy or else why would so many girls be in love with him?

Connie's reaction to Vaughn did not go unnoticed by Weiss, and he groaned in defeat. He hid his face in his hands and knew that he had lost another one to the green eyed monster. Weiss should have been comforted by the fact that Connie did nothing for Vaughn, but since he couldn't read minds, he was up a creek without an onboard engine (Paddles are so passe).

Like I mentioned earlier, Connie did not interest Vaughn in the least. Can you guess why? Yep, you guessed it. Connie was a man.

P.S. It should be known by all those reading this story, that I am making this entire thing up as I go. I mean that literally. These words I'm writing right now are the same words that just formed in my mind mere minutes ago (the time delay is due to my thoughts having to travel through an alcohol induced haze). This story is going nowhere. Mainly, it is just a platform for me to pontificate on how much I love Jennifer Garner. Everything else is secondary. Really, it is. This whole storyline with Vaughn? Meaningless. Just kidding. I guess I can begrudgingly make room for Vaughn somewhere. Just to make you girls out there happy. Maybe I'll even write a scene where his shirt miraculously come off and he has to go the rest of the story half naked.

P.S. Quick question. Should I actually name the Quebecers? I'm tempted to just call them those guys. Keep them anonymous, or not? Share with me or no shirtless Vaughn.

P.S. This may or may not be the last chapter for this story in a while. It depends on how fast I write chapter 12 for Angel Dark. It may take me awhile for many reasons. The next chapter is the longest, most in depth chapter yet in the story. I have a pretty firm idea on where I'm going with the story, and plan to end it tentatively in three more chapters.