Sydney didn't know how he had arranged it, but Weiss got her in to see Will
the next morning, a few hours before she caught her plane to France.
The safe house where they were keeping Will appeared to be a nondescript bungalow on a cul-de-sac in the suburbs. The CIA, however, was not taking any chances this time. A total of five agents had been assigned around-the- clock duty to ensure his safety--three undercover agents were positioned along the street and two inside. After frisking her and confirming her identity with Weiss via radio, the agents finally allowed her to see Will.
"Syd!" Will exclaimed, jumping up to hug her. "Oh, my God, you don't know how glad I am to see you! It's like I'm on the set of 'Big Brother,' except I'm the only one left in the house."
"They wouldn't let me see you before now, or I would have come sooner. Francie's been asking questions, and I've been so worried, but no one would tell me anything until yesterday," Syd explained. "Are you alright?"
He looked like the same old Will in so many ways. He had on a comfortable UCLA sweatshirt Sydney had often seen him wear, an old pair of jeans, and his ratty high top sneakers. His eyes were bloodshot, though, and his jaw was streaked with faded yellow bruises. It troubled her that she couldn't quite define the expression which haunted his otherwise clear blue eyes.
"I'm fine," Will lied. "They brought me an X-box about three days ago. You should see my top score on 'Halo.'"
He could see Sydney wanted desperately to believe him, but was much too experienced an agent not to know better. But even if she suspected the truth, he simply couldn't bring himself to tell her about the nights he woke up screaming, or the complicated system the safe house guards had worked out to let him know exactly who was on duty at all times.
"Will, I am so sorry," Sydney said brokenly, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. "I never wanted to bring you into this. I never wanted you to get hurt. Weiss told me about the newspaper and the heroin. No matter what my father or anyone else has said, you don't have to do this. You can still go into witness protection. Please don't think you have to do this."
"Hey, no--Syd, ah, Jeez, don't cry," Will said in confusion, leading her to the couch and pulling her down beside him. "If you think I blame you for what happened, I don't," he said, rubbing her back awkwardly. "Listen-- listen to me. No one is forcing me to become an operative."
Sydney tried to interrupt, but Will wouldn't let her, "Just wait. Listen."
"Do you know why I decided to become a journalist?" he asked. "It was because I wanted to make a difference. I thought maybe--just maybe--I could write something that would make people think. Something that might make them perceive themselves and the world a little differently--get them to care, get them to take action and maybe make the world a better place. It may sound corny, but that's what I thought."
"You know what?" he said, taking her shoulders and gently turning her around to face him, so that Sydney had no choice but to look him in the eye. "You do that--you make a difference. You make the world a better place. You don't just expose the bad guys. You take them down," he said earnestly, his eyes shining, as he looked at her. "If I can help you do that--then that's what I want to do. I don't care about my reputation at the newspaper or the trumped up drug charges, or anything else. I care about you, and if this is what I have to do to be a part of your life--so be it. I'll take the risk."
"Will, you are a part of my life--the part of my life I work so hard to keep safe," Sydney said, taking his hands and gripping them tightly.
Will shook his head. She still didn't understand.
"Before all this happened I thought you were the warmest, smartest, most beautiful woman I have ever known, and now I realize that isn't even half of what you are," he said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
Sydney gazed at him, and it physically hurt her to see the love in his eyes.
"You're brave, and you're tough," he continued, "and you go out every single day and save the world, while Francie and I lead these little humdrum lives and welcome you home without a clue that you've been disarming nukes in Eastern Europe, or stealing computer code from terrorists in Saudia Arabia."
"Will, stop it!" she protested. "You talk like I'm a hero. I'm not: I lie to my friends, I lie to my co-workers, I kill people when I have to, and you will, too, if you become an operative!"
"Syd, you're not listening to what I am telling you. I saw how Michael Vaughn looked at you in Taipei," Will interrupted her, and she could see the pain in his eyes and understood the effort it took for him to talk about Vaughn. "He looked at you as if--as if the sun rose and set in your eyes! He thinks you're amazing, and he should know, right? He's seen you work; he assigns you the missions, and he's fallen in love with you: the 'you' I never get to see; the 'you,' you think is so awful," he said, his voice beginning to crack.
"I can't go back to seeing you the old way, anymore than he can help loving the 'you' he sees, and if he thinks he loves you now, wait until he gets to know the 'you' I've known all these years." Tears stung his eyes, and he continued haltingly. "I know you love me as a friend, and I don't really expect any more than that. But I don't want to lose you--and I'll lose you for sure if I go into the witness protection program. So, Syd, don't--don't shut me out of your life," he pleaded. "This is what I want."
Sydney threw her arms around him, her sobs muffled against his chest. Will rocked her silently, his tears falling into her hair.
The safe house where they were keeping Will appeared to be a nondescript bungalow on a cul-de-sac in the suburbs. The CIA, however, was not taking any chances this time. A total of five agents had been assigned around-the- clock duty to ensure his safety--three undercover agents were positioned along the street and two inside. After frisking her and confirming her identity with Weiss via radio, the agents finally allowed her to see Will.
"Syd!" Will exclaimed, jumping up to hug her. "Oh, my God, you don't know how glad I am to see you! It's like I'm on the set of 'Big Brother,' except I'm the only one left in the house."
"They wouldn't let me see you before now, or I would have come sooner. Francie's been asking questions, and I've been so worried, but no one would tell me anything until yesterday," Syd explained. "Are you alright?"
He looked like the same old Will in so many ways. He had on a comfortable UCLA sweatshirt Sydney had often seen him wear, an old pair of jeans, and his ratty high top sneakers. His eyes were bloodshot, though, and his jaw was streaked with faded yellow bruises. It troubled her that she couldn't quite define the expression which haunted his otherwise clear blue eyes.
"I'm fine," Will lied. "They brought me an X-box about three days ago. You should see my top score on 'Halo.'"
He could see Sydney wanted desperately to believe him, but was much too experienced an agent not to know better. But even if she suspected the truth, he simply couldn't bring himself to tell her about the nights he woke up screaming, or the complicated system the safe house guards had worked out to let him know exactly who was on duty at all times.
"Will, I am so sorry," Sydney said brokenly, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. "I never wanted to bring you into this. I never wanted you to get hurt. Weiss told me about the newspaper and the heroin. No matter what my father or anyone else has said, you don't have to do this. You can still go into witness protection. Please don't think you have to do this."
"Hey, no--Syd, ah, Jeez, don't cry," Will said in confusion, leading her to the couch and pulling her down beside him. "If you think I blame you for what happened, I don't," he said, rubbing her back awkwardly. "Listen-- listen to me. No one is forcing me to become an operative."
Sydney tried to interrupt, but Will wouldn't let her, "Just wait. Listen."
"Do you know why I decided to become a journalist?" he asked. "It was because I wanted to make a difference. I thought maybe--just maybe--I could write something that would make people think. Something that might make them perceive themselves and the world a little differently--get them to care, get them to take action and maybe make the world a better place. It may sound corny, but that's what I thought."
"You know what?" he said, taking her shoulders and gently turning her around to face him, so that Sydney had no choice but to look him in the eye. "You do that--you make a difference. You make the world a better place. You don't just expose the bad guys. You take them down," he said earnestly, his eyes shining, as he looked at her. "If I can help you do that--then that's what I want to do. I don't care about my reputation at the newspaper or the trumped up drug charges, or anything else. I care about you, and if this is what I have to do to be a part of your life--so be it. I'll take the risk."
"Will, you are a part of my life--the part of my life I work so hard to keep safe," Sydney said, taking his hands and gripping them tightly.
Will shook his head. She still didn't understand.
"Before all this happened I thought you were the warmest, smartest, most beautiful woman I have ever known, and now I realize that isn't even half of what you are," he said softly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
Sydney gazed at him, and it physically hurt her to see the love in his eyes.
"You're brave, and you're tough," he continued, "and you go out every single day and save the world, while Francie and I lead these little humdrum lives and welcome you home without a clue that you've been disarming nukes in Eastern Europe, or stealing computer code from terrorists in Saudia Arabia."
"Will, stop it!" she protested. "You talk like I'm a hero. I'm not: I lie to my friends, I lie to my co-workers, I kill people when I have to, and you will, too, if you become an operative!"
"Syd, you're not listening to what I am telling you. I saw how Michael Vaughn looked at you in Taipei," Will interrupted her, and she could see the pain in his eyes and understood the effort it took for him to talk about Vaughn. "He looked at you as if--as if the sun rose and set in your eyes! He thinks you're amazing, and he should know, right? He's seen you work; he assigns you the missions, and he's fallen in love with you: the 'you' I never get to see; the 'you,' you think is so awful," he said, his voice beginning to crack.
"I can't go back to seeing you the old way, anymore than he can help loving the 'you' he sees, and if he thinks he loves you now, wait until he gets to know the 'you' I've known all these years." Tears stung his eyes, and he continued haltingly. "I know you love me as a friend, and I don't really expect any more than that. But I don't want to lose you--and I'll lose you for sure if I go into the witness protection program. So, Syd, don't--don't shut me out of your life," he pleaded. "This is what I want."
Sydney threw her arms around him, her sobs muffled against his chest. Will rocked her silently, his tears falling into her hair.