title: Taxicab Confessions
by: chatnoir
rating: PG-13
disclaimer: not mine, never was, and never will be. It's JJ's... but I don't like how he's treating the characters...
classification: SVR, AU, semi-fluff (? at least it's not angst... right?)
distribution: SD-1, ff.net, others: please ask
A/N: thanks to kenzi for answering plot questions and Jasmine for looking over the first 1/4 of the story.
okay... so this fic started as a dare because I was having such a bad week. Turns out... I failed the dare (all fluff)... it was due on Friday at 7... oops. But I decided to finish it anyway and post it. oh... and have I mentioned that this was a pointless exercise for me to get into essay writing mode?
:P to UCB. congrats on winning the football game... even though we lost... oh well.
Taxicab Confessions (1/1)
By chatnoir
"Hi. Would you like to dance?" The young man stood before her, hesitant green eyes reaching out. She looked him over. He was well dressed, maybe in his early thirties—perhaps six to seven years older, and obviously a working man who didn't get out much. He was tall with a strong build by his shoulders were a bit hunched, as if he sat over a desk all day.
"Sure." Her honey chocolate eyes sparkled in the dim lights of Francie's café.
He took her hand, an instantaneous feel of electricity shot up their arms. Looking up, he caught her eye and smiled. Their hands fit together perfectly. Woven weaves of fingers.
Leading her to the dance floor, they started to sway to the fast paced music. Their hips moved together, rocking to the rhythm.
"So what do you do?" he said after 20 minutes of memorizing her face silently. She had beautiful facial features that he knew he would never get tired of looking at and long, straight, brown hair to match it. She was a couple of inches shorter than him, thin, but her entire figure made him want something more.
"What do you mean what do I do? You mean as a job?"
"Yeah." His tone had a breathless quality.
"I'm a student. A waitress on the side." She paused then asked, "How about you?"
He voice faltered; clearing his throat before answering, "I work for the government."
"A Fed?"
"Something like that."
"Top secret I see," she joked.
Several minutes passed by. A slow song came on and he wrapped his arms around her waist. She gave no sign of turning away to her table or drawing back from his close contact. He pulled her even closer.
He smirked. "What are you studying?"
"I'm working for my masters in literature."
"What an interesting subject," he rolled his eyes. "Wait until you get to Russian authors. Tolstoy in particular."
"Hey! I happen to like Russian authors, but I haven't had the pleasure of reading Tolstoy. Fine, Mr. Government Man, what was your major?" she teased, leaning in close.
"Poli Sci. Masters from Harvard."
"Hot shot, huh?" He leaned in closer, their lips mere centimeters apart.
"Something like that."
He captured her lips in his; heat seared through her body. Everything melted away instantly.
~~~
"I can't believe I just did that!" she exclaimed, shooting up from under the covers.
"Did what?"
"What we just did! God, I only met you tonight, and I don't even know your name. Damn it, that was just bad! Where are my pants?!"
He watched her get out from his bed. His face was so crestfallen that she just wanted to walk back over, kiss him, and make it all better.
"They're on the chair over there." He paused before continuing, completely misunderstanding her words, "Bad? I swear I'm usually not that… I can go on longer… like the Energizer bun—"
"I didn't mean that!" she interrupted his ramblings, laughing. "That was the most amazing five minutes of my life." She smiled at him, walking back and sitting at the edge of the bed, pulling the covers up a bit to cover herself.
His mouth was still pouting. "Ten minutes. It had to have been at least ten."
"Fine, six."
"Nine."
"Seven." She stared down at him.
"Come here, you." He pulled her down on top of him, and kissed her hard.
Her worries fled her mind immediately as she crashed down into his warm embrace. He proved her wrong many more times that night.
~~~
He woke up smiling. Planning on kissing the woman in his bed good morning, he reached over to the right side of the bed and discovered cold empty air.
~~~
"…and then, this green monster came out of the toilet. It ate my canary! Can you believe it?" Francie exclaimed.
"Yeah… I can. Wait… what did you just say? …You don't have a canary," she said, snapping to attention.
"Syd, what's wrong with you? You've been spaced out for over a week!"
"Nothing's wrong, Francie!"
Francie glared at her. "Hon, I know something's wrong. And it started that night at my café. What happened? You were dancing one moment, and the next time I see you is when you run to the door at seven AM on a Sunday morning, asking me to pay for the taxi ride while you went inside to change!"
An awkward silence permeated the air. The taxicab's interior had a musty scent. The dampness was still lingering in the air, mixed in with cigarette smoke. The LA smog was visible on the horizon. The ride to LAX still unfortunately had a few more minutes to go. Sydney couldn't escape Francie's piercing stare any longer.
"Have you ever had a one night stand?" she relented.
"No. I mean, you're meeting someone you don't even know and… well, it's wrong… I mean—" She paused in mid-sentence. Thoughts were racing through her head. "Sydney… would you like to tell me something?" she said slowly.
"I did do what you're thinking."
Beat.
"YOU DID WHAT?!" Francie shrieked.
"Heya lady, keep it down back there!" the taxi driver called over the volume of his music.
"Sorry," she said, then turned back to Sydney. "You did what?" she reaffirmed in a harsh whisper.
"What? It just happened! I didn't mean for it to happen. But. Jeez! Is it a crime to believe that he was … the ideal guy for me?"
"Just because you had the best sex in your life with him does NOT mean he's the one, okay?"
"I know that Francie. Believe me, I do. And I know you think I'm being crazy and irrational right now, but… there was this connection between us. I had more connection between that man in the first five minutes on the dance floor than I had with any of my boyfriends! It wasn't even a real heart-to-heart connection… how do I explain this?… It was this sort of emotional connection. I don't know what it was. But it felt right."
Francie stayed quiet, then asked, "Then why did you leave him alone? Because that's what it sounds like you did… why you've been so quiet. It's because you left him alone the next morning isn't it? You want something more with that man, but now you walked away from that chance! You don't know what his name is or who he is—"
"Damn it. I don't want to be lectured on things I already know. I'm telling you this because I need support. I need a friend, not an overly-concerned mother hen!"
~~~
"So the mission stats and log say that the hit should be in her hotel room at 17:00 hours. It's a quick in and out. Kill her, bag the body, burn the room, and get to the safe house. Remember the rules. Don't look at her face, be quick about everything, and take the shot right when you get the chance—no hesitations," Weiss dictated. "I'll be driving you to the hotel. Just look like a regular businessman."
"Why does the CIA want me to kill her?"
"You know they can't tell us that information, man. If we're caught, we can't spill." A lingering pause ensued. "Okay, fine. Some Intel from a… hated source… says that she's SD-6."
"Hated source?" His eyes widened. "Lamont? You mean the CIA doesn't even know for sure?! And they want me to kill her based on his Intel?" Vaughn raged.
"Hey. I'm just the messenger. Haven't you heard of not shooting the messenger? And Devlin thinks that she's one of their top agents. If you eliminate her, SD-6 will have to train someone else… which takes time. It would give the CIA mole some time."
"But this is all based on if the Intel is correct! What if it's wrong? I'd be killing an innocent civilian!"
"Believe me, she's far from innocent. We've caught her on tape with some KGB officials. So even if she's innocent of being connected with SD-6, she's damn guilty of being connected with KGB. I knew I shouldn't have told you. I knew you'd react badly," Weiss muttered. Raising his voice a bit, he said, "Scared of a woman, Mike?"
Vaughn just scowled in return.
"Get in the cab. Let's get going." Weiss put on his ridiculous taxicab driver hat.
After starting the car and getting on the road, Weiss decided to break the silence. "So what happened to you Tuesday night?"
"Tuesday? I had a meeting." Vaughn's forehead wrinkled. "But you know that. You were there."
"Let me rephrase that. Where were you the Tuesday the week before, after we went to the café? You just… disappeared. A regular Houdini. Kinda insulting since I'm the one who's supposed to be related to the guy."
"Shut up, Eric."
"No, really. Where'd ya go?"
"Shut up, Eric."
"Where'd ya go?"
"SHUT UP, Weiss."
Weiss got a knowing look in his dancing eyes. "Oooh, Mikey got laid."
"Shut up, Weiss."
"It was the brunette wasn't it! I knew it. You started staring at her the moment we entered the café. And then when that curly blond headed guy started approaching her, you ran up to her like the devil. I've never seen a man so readable. She probably has scribbled her signature on every page! I mean I've never seen you so smitten—"
"I really don't need to hear this! Keep your eyes on the road! There's a car… damn it. Slow down and brake!"
~~~
"Okay. I'm in position. The hit has entered the room." Vaughn held his breath as he twisted on the silencer. The sleek black extension flashed dangerously in the moonlight.
"Take the hit when ready, Boy Scout."
She hit closed the door behind her, flicked on the light switch, and rolled her small black suitcase to the bed. Bending over, she unzipped the bag and took out a book.
"Take the shot."
"Retriever, you sure we have the right room number? The target is sitting on the bed reading a Russian novel!"
"What's gotten into you today? You usually have no problems with this."
"I have an instinct. Something's not right about this situation."
"You're in room 247 right?"
"Yeah. At least I'm pretty sure."
"Then you have the right target. Do you have a clear shot?"
"Yeah, I do."
He heard a scuffle on the other side of this headset, and then a, "Agent Vaughn, this is Assistant Director Kendall with the FBI. We have a sanctioned report on the target. You are being ordered to take the shot."
That was all the confirmation he needed, and yet something felt wrong. He shot…
…and missed. Her cell phone had begun to ring.
The bullet pierced through her pillow, an inch away from her body. She jerked off the bed in obvious surprise, cell phone long forgotten. "Who's there?" she called out, panicked. "Please don't kill me?" She started twirling around in the room, trying to figure out where the bullet came from.
It was then that he recognized her voice, her face.
"Target missed."
"You're cleared to shoot again."
Nothing fit. Her attitude, her reaction. Hell, what type of operative would be reading a Russian novel? "Damn it, AD Kendall. I really think we have the wrong person. How did Lamont get his Intel? She's acting like a civilian, not a trained agent."
"Boy Scout, you're disobeying a direct order. You have one more chance. I said shoot!"
He looked at the target again. She was crying, sitting on the floor, whispering, "please don't kill me. Please don't kill me," over and over again. She was going into shock.
Vaughn murmured into his com-link, "Boy Scout standing down. I'm going to approach the target. What's her name?" He heard Weiss say, "What the hell is he thinking? Balls of steel I tell ya. Balls of steel. He's gonna get it from Devlin."
"Agent Vaughn, you're to report directly to Director Devlin when you arrive back in LA. And you are to bring the target with you, if she doesn't kill you first. Her name's Natasha Civilini." He turned off his com-link, not wanting to hear any more of Kendall's ramblings.
He walked out of his shadowing hiding space to the quivering body. "Natasha? I'm Secret Agent Michael Vaughn with the Central Intelligence Agency. Can you come with me please?"
At first, she cowered and hid her face. Only until he was right in front of her and hadn't done anything to her for five minutes did she look up at him. And when she did so, she gasped. "You're… you're the guy that was at the opening of Francie's Café last Tuesday." She looked at the gun he still held in his hand. He followed her gaze and quickly put the gun in his shoulder holster. "Please don't kill me?"
He smiled and wrapped his arm around her to keep her warm and to avoid the catatonic state of shock, but frowned when he felt her flinch beneath him. "Shh… I'm not going to hurt you." When he felt her melt against him, he let out a sigh of relief. Watching the tears continue to roll down her cheek, he reached up and wiped them away. "It's okay… I'm not going to hurt you. Shh…" He continued to speak softly with calming words and phrases and gently began to rub her back in soothing circles. She finally began to calm down after ten minutes, but continued to clutch him to her body. "Come on, we need to get you back to LA."
"Why? I need to get to my interview tomorrow. I was on the waiting list for a very long time…" she pleaded.
"Interview?" he questioned.
"I have to complete my dissertation. A professor at NYU is the leading literature sage on my topic…"
Score one for Vaughn. She's not an operative on a mission.
"It's okay. I'll have the Agency call in and we'll have another meeting time set up for you. Come on, we really need to get going." He got up with her still in his arms. Once she was settled on her feet, he took her hand and led her to the door.
"What about my stuff?"
"Don't worry, we'll get someone from the Agency to retrieve your stuff and clean up the room."
~~~
"That's our ride over there. The driver is Agent Eric Weiss." Vaughn waved Weiss over. Helping her get in the car, he said, "Watch your head, Natasha."
"Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Calling you what? Natasha? That's your name, right?" Vaughn's right eyebrow was raised.
"No. My name is Sydney. Sydney Bristow."
Weiss' head shot up. "Bristow?" he cautiously asked. "Any relation to Jack Bristow?"
"He's my father… How do you know my father?"
Turning to Vaughn, Weiss said, "Get Agent Bristow on the phone right now."
"Agent Bristow?" Sydney asked.
"He works with us." Vaughn answered.
"No… that's not possible… He sells airplane parts… "
Vaughn reached down and squeezed her hand. He was about to explain the situation to her when he heard Devlin pick up on the other end of the cell phone. "Director Devlin? This is Agent Michael Vaughn. We— "
"Agent Vaughn. I want to have a little talk with you when you arrive back on base, you got that? Direct disobedience of a superior is unacceptable. I expected more from you—"
"Sir? With all due respect, I need to request the presence of Agent Jack Bristow at operations. The woman you wanted me to exterminate? She's his daughter."
Vaughn heard Devlin quiet as he digested the information he was just given, but he also felt Sydney pull away from him. He gave her a quizzical look.
"Debrief the daughter on the plane, Agent Vaughn. We'll be in touch."
Hanging up the phone, he turned to Sydney. "What's wrong?"
"You were going to exterminate me? Exterminate? Like some… bug?"
The cab was silent. How do you answer to that when the answer is yes? Vaughn pondered. He glimpsed over at Weiss, and saw him nod.
"The information we got was wrong. You were supposed to be an agent of an organization posing as the CIA that recruits unsuspecting civilians as their agents. You were also supposed to have connections to the Russian KGB."
"The Russian KG what?"
"KGB. It's their form of the CIA…"
"Oh." She took in all the information. "But I don't even know what you're talking about… I don't know what the KGB is, I haven't been recruited to any… secret organizations…"
"I know."
"What made you not kill me after that first shot?"
Vaughn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "The first shot was supposed to kill you, but the cell phone startled me. And then I saw your face, and I recognized you… from Tuesday night."
She laughed bitterly, "If I'd known a one night stand would be so complex and cause so much trouble, I never would have gone through with it."
Suddenly, they felt Weiss brake. "Mike, this is the café girl?" All tension in the cab evaporated. Thank God for Eric Weiss.
"Yeah." He was embarrassed; he knew Weiss was gonna tell her all these stories about him now.
"And you didn't know her name?! You met a girl like her… and you didn't want her name?!"
"Agent Weiss… is it?" He nodded. "I kinda left before he woke up." She was blushing and for some reason, Vaughn found it completely adorable and reclaimed her hand.
"Ahh… so that explains why Mikey here has been playing with his coin, spacing out, and doing frantic internet searches which he closes when I walk in." He gave her a knowing look. Eric reminded her so much of Francie.
"Shut up, Eric."
"Why? I wanna know more about the guy who was about to kill me." She winked at him.
"Never say I denied a lady anything."
~~~
"Dad!" She walked into his open arms.
"Sweetheart. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" He asked, enveloping her in his arms. When he had heard the report Devlin gave him, he was in a rage. How could they have mistaken his daughter as someone else? And then for it to have been an assassination attempt? He was thankful that William Vaughn's boy had his head screwed on correctly. Apparently the only person on the entire mission with the right instinct to be in the CIA. He gave a cold stare to the agents coming in the building.
"I'm fine, Daddy." He heart swelled at the endearment. He hadn't been "daddy" in a long time. "Agent Vaughn and Weiss were really nice to me."
"Jack." Vaughn greeted the older agent.
"Agent Vaughn. It appears I have to thank you for keeping my daughter alive. However, why didn't you figure it out sooner is the question." He had to maintain the cold façade.
Vaughn had the decency of looking ashamed but said, "I'm not authorized to see a picture of the target until after they're dead. It was only by mistake I saw Sydney and recognized her."
Jack's admiration for the agent grew; not many would respond when he questioned them. "And I'm interested in knowing how you know my daughter."
There was a brief silence in which Vaughn glanced over at Sydney. "I met her at a café opening…" he trailed off, not wanting to tell the one night stand story to her father of all people.
"Very well." He looked down at Sydney. "Let's get you home. I don't want you to stay alone though. Is Francie home?"
She shook her head. "She went to Miami with Charlie."
"How about Will?" Jack inquired. Vaughn's head looked up. Does she already have a boyfriend?
"He went to Chicago for a journalism conference."
Vaughn interrupted, "Doesn't she need to be fully debriefed with Devlin?"
"You were supposed to do that on the plane, Agent Vaughn."
"We did. But doesn't she need to be tested—"
"My daughter does not have to be hooked up to a lie detector. I am here to confirm that Sydney does not know about the happenings of the organization, the Agency, or of KGB officials."
"Yes, sir."
"Dad, why don't I just stay with you?" Sydney was trying to drag Vaughn away from the line of fire.
"You can't, sweetheart. I'm heading off on a mission in a few hours."
"She can stay with me…" Vaughn offered.
Weiss, Jack, and Sydney all snapped their heads to look at him.
Why not? It seems like he's capable of handling my daughter and keeping her safe. But… Jack was unsure. "Sydney?"
"Umm… okay. I guess." Back to the place where this all started. I refuse to let him prove anything to me again… though… well… actually…
"You'll have to wait a few moments though… I suggest you go get some coffee. Agent Vaughn, you have to go meet with Devlin." Jack kept glaring at Vaughn.
"Come on Sydney. Let's get some coffee. I'll tell you about the time Mike asked a cheerleader out in college and got beer all over his new gold shirt. Or maybe I'll show you some yo-yo tricks."
"A gold shirt?" Vaughn heard Sydney ask as he walked to Devlin's office.
~~~
"Welcome back to la maison de Vaughn, Ms. Bristow. Would you like anything to drink?"
"Do you have any beer?"
He gave her a look. "Beer coming right up."
~~~
Two hours later found them on the ground of his living room. Sprawled out on the couch with three bottles of beer lined up on the coffee table in front of them.
"So what were you reading when you were… on the bed?"
She grinned at him slyly. "Tolstoy."
He laughed. "So you decided to read what I told you to stay away from."
"Of course. I never was one to take advice from a stranger."
"Am I a stranger, Sydney?"
"You most certainly aren't anymore. But I still don't trust you."
"Don't trust me?"
"How do you trust a man who was about to kill you?"
He touched her face tenderly. "I didn't want to. It's my job, and you were a target."
"Being an assassin as a job. Great. I underestimated you when you said you worked for the government. Here I was, thinking you were a desk jockey."
"Big surprise?"
"What do you think?"
"Damn it, Syd. I don't think I'm humanly capable of hurting you. When I took that shot, I knew something was wrong with the situation. You acted like a civilian, not an agent. I knew that the Intel was wrong. But I was under direct orders… and then the second time, I disobeyed them."
"And that's why you were sent to talk to this Devlin guy today? So what was the sentence?"
"Three weeks unpaid leave for disobedience. They were being nice. I should have been kicked out. I think your dad actually stepped in there for me."
"Oh."
A comfortable silence descended upon the room. Sydney got up off the floor.
"I'm getting tired. Where do I sleep?"
"You can take the bed."
"What?" she croaked out. Was he expecting me to sleep with him again?
"It's okay. I'll take the couch out here."
"Are you sure? This is your place…"
"Yeah… I'm sure." He flashed her a smile that made her sit down on the couch. "But it seems like you have an affinity for the couch…" he remarked when he saw that she'd sat down.
"Um… I was just wondering if you have an extra toothbrush and pajamas… and if I can maybe use your shower?"
"Yeah. The extra toothbrushes are in the left middle drawer next to the sink. I'll bring you some pajamas and a towel. The bathroom is down the hall, the second door to the right."
"Thank you."
"No problem." His smile was contagious.
~~~
"Good night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite!" She smiled at the silly child's rhyme.
"Good night."
As he was about to turn off the lights, a thought struck him.
"Um… Sydney…"
She turned her body to face him, the covers rustling. "Yeah?"
"Would it be too presumptuous of me if I ask you out on a date?"
She smiled. "No. No, it wouldn't."
"Great. Then would you like to have dinner with me sometime this week?"
"I'd love to. But promise me, we go slower this time."
They smiled at each other.
"I promise." With one last lingering look, he turned off the lights. "Good night."
THE END