Title: Chronic Vertigo
Author: Kira [kira at sd-1 dot com]
Genre: Romance/Action/Adventure
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: We all know the drill. I don't own Alias, so please don't
sue me. I'm already in debt. And even if you did sue me, it would come off my
credit card and I'd still be in debt. So, right. You're better off leaving me
be.
Chapter
Three: Antebellum
Part B
This had to have been his seventh cup of coffee since coming in at 7 that morning. A glance at his watch confirmed what he'd been calculating – that it was only 11 and 7 cups of coffee in three hours couldn't be a good thing. What was even worse was the fact that he still was tired and despite all the caffeine in his system, was sure he would fall asleep in a second if given the opportunity. Now, should he consider a complete lack of work a break that could be used for, say, a nap? Because he suddenly found himself in a vacant office in the back of the JTF, his shoes kicked off his feet as he lay on an old salmon couch that had certainly seen better days.
For once, he was glad his hair always seemed to appear disheveled, because it was most likely going to look that way when he finally got up. He hugged an end pillow tighter as he shifted his head to find a more comfortable position for his neck. After a few seconds however, he gave up. There was no way his head would be comfortable on a couch almost half his size (causing him to curl his legs under himself).
Contrary to popular belief, he hadn't started out spending every night at Sydney's place. In fact, the pair had often found themselves working until different nighttime hours, which, in turn, caused them to go home alone, not wishing to wake the other up. But after a week of this separation, Vaughn had resigned himself to sleeping on Sydney's couch when he arrived after her. A week later, she'd caught on and told him a continuation of this behavior would be completely unacceptable. She had went on to say he needed his sleep just as much as she did, and if he didn't want to come into her bed, he could at least make it to his.
He'd nodded with a small smile on his face, keeping his thought to himself. He couldn't tell her he could no longer sleep when at home all alone, that despite what Barnett had said, he might loose it again.
It was nothing wrong,' Barnett had said. In fact, I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier. You were holding it all inside, things you shouldn't have. You became an emotional bomb just waiting to go off.' At his sour expression, she'd leaned forward, closer to him. There's nothing wrong with you, nothing.'
And that was that.
He believed her, he *knew* nothing was wrong with him. In fact, he often examined
what had happened and wondered what he was on (a lot of cold medicine, that
was for sure). It didn't even bother him anymore. So why was he laying
on this old couch trying to catch a bit of sleep instead of being fully rested
from a night's sleep at home? It was because –
What, you *don't* keep your teddy bear in your desk? Weiss' voice rang out next to him. Vaughn groaned, wishing he had been granted the obligatory 5 more minutes, and cracked open his eyes.
Weiss' face floated before him, a goofy grin upon his face. Vaughn recoiled, then threw the pillow he'd been holding captive in a tight stranglehold at his best friend's face. It hit him dead-on, forcing an oof from Weiss before he promptly returned the favor. Vaughn, who had been in the process of sitting up was spared, and he simply rubbed his eyes, the pillow on the floor to the right of the couch just beside him. He straightened his tie as Weiss spoke.
Weiss huffed, pulling himself from the floor, is the ugliest couch I have ever seen before. He landed on the couch with a grunt, leaning back into the cushions. His head banged against the closed blinds, causing him to sit up quickly. He ran a hand over the armrest, curious. Where did it come from?
Its just one of those things, Vaughn replied, yawning. 11:04. He'd slept for 24 minutes, four minutes since he checked his watch, 20 since he'd snuck away to experience that semi-sleep which kept him on the edge of consciousness. Wait, how come I didn't hear you come in? he asked suddenly. He'd heard people talking down the hall, but not Weiss' entrance?
And you call yourself a field agent.
Vaughn defended himself. Weiss laughed.
Yeah, yeah. Why? You were *sleeping*. During the *day*. In the middle of a CIA/FBI Joint Task Force!
Aren't you the one who wrote the book on sleeping at the workplace? Vaughn countered.
Yes, Mike, but that's when I have an office door and faithful assistant, he stated as-matter-of-factly. He shook his head and chuckled at Vaughn's apparent slacking naïveté. It was expected though. His friend, at least until recently, always stuck to the rules. He had probably been a bore in school, making sure he never got in trouble, never doing anything out of line. The complete opposite of himself.
You just haven't figured out how to here, yet, shrugged Vaughn as he reached out with his feet for his shoes. They were simply a few inches to far, but he continued to try. Weiss watched his futile attempts, completely amused.
Why don't you just grow out your legs there, buddy, he directed. Vaughn glared before he stood and retrieved them himself. He bent down to slip them back on.
Are you here for any particular reason? Vaughn inquired, still leaning forward as he retied his shoes.
What, it's odd for me to come talk to you? Weiss asked him. Or have you become too good for us desk jockeys?
I'll take that as a yes. So why *were* you sleeping?
I usually do, Vaughn said, sitting back up. He ran a hand through his hair as he sat at the edge of the couch, forcing his sluggish body to move. His neck ached, and he spoke as he rubbed it. When I'm tired.
Oh? Busy night? he asked, inflicting his voice just right so the underlying meaning was fully understood.
In a manner of speaking, Vaughn muttered more to himself than in response to Weiss' dive into the gutter. Don't start, he said louder, running his hand back around his neck and letting it fall to his lap. I didn't torment you when you had a girlfriend and I didn't.
What, the two weeks between Fiona and – what's her name?
Vaughn groaned and let his head audibly hit the glass and blinds behind him.
Right, Jessica. And you did, Mike. You were a sad little lost abandoned man who couldn't get over a girl. Was that your longest time between girl –
Vaughn retrieved the pillow and threw it at Weiss before he could even finish that statement. To his credit Weiss was silent for a second before he peeled it off his face and started laughing. The laughter was contagious and Vaughn found himself letting go as well. This was how life was supposed to be, full of moments such as these that were not overshadowed by secrets and lies, or life and death situations.
How long did it take you to figure out I was gone? Vaughn asked, breaking free of the humor. Weiss shrugged.
I didn't really. I was a little distracted –
Vaughn interrupted. As in Agent Phillips.
Weiss countered seriously, turning to face Vaughn. The latter sat up, intrigued and awaiting the answer. There's this new girl in IT. Beautiful, tall, smart, a little mousy. Well, I think she's in to me. That was Weiss – always on the prowl for a new girlfriend.
So why'd you come looking for me?
Good question. You might be just as pretty as the girl – He stopped as Vaughn made a move for another pillow. Whoa, whoa, no need to get mad. If I were you, I'd be happy for my good looks. At his friend's glare, he sobered up. Okay, okay. Briefing. The transmitter's gone active.
Vaughn said, his jaw clenched as he pushed his growing anger down. How long ago were you told this?
Weiss innocently pulled his arm up and looked at his watch. 10 minutes ago, he stated.
Vaughn jumped up and headed for the door, wondering how dead he'd be after Jack and Kendall were done with him and if he would be alive enough to murder or seriously injure Weiss afterwards. As he reached the door Weiss called his name, and he turned, a hand resting on the cold black doorframe.
You're getting really good at dodging questions, Weiss said sincerely. but I'm on to you. Vaughn pondered this as Weiss stood and came to slap him on the back. Plus, why are you leaving without me? Don't you love me anymore?
I have a girlfriend, you know, Vaughn revealed as the pair headed towards the conference room at the other side of the floor. Weiss snapped his fingers.
Right. Well, maybe that girl in IT will go for me.
Vaughn replied, but he was already off somewhere else, thinking of other things. Was Weiss right? Was he actually avoiding questions? It was a subconscious action, to be sure, something he did because he was *thinking* that he didn't want to say anything. But people were usually able to extract information from him no matter how hard he tried. Or could they? Was he digressing, his avoidance becoming easier to recognize instead of harder?
The doors to the conference
room were closed, and he could hear someone droning on inside. He sighed. They
were so dead.
