Disclaimer: I, in no way, own any of the original characters or concepts of "Alias", though I claim all rights to the ones that I may create within this story. All others are property of J.J. Abrams and ABC. I am making no money from this story.
Second Chances
Part One
"Hey, Jonah can I have that final draw-up?"
Will sat at the drafting table in the contractor's trailer, rolls of plans scattered around him on the table and at his feet. Several paper coffee cups were piling up in the wastebasket beside him and there was a fresh one sitting on a nearby filing cabinet. "Man, do you have to have it right now?" he asked not even turning toward the construction worker.
"Yeah, I do."
"No you don't," he said resolutely, still not turning to him. "Gimme until the end of the day, okay Mac?"
Mac scowled and rolled up his sleeves in frustration. He looked like he wanted to punch him but was holding himself back. He couldn't very well punch out his foreman and keep his job. "Jonah, you know we can't finish off the west wing until you finalize those plans."
Will finally turned around and looked at Mac with a weary expression. "Don't you think I know that?" Mac became suddenly quite when he saw Jonah's face. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and he appeared to have given up shaving again. "I will get these plans to you by the end of the work day. Isn't there some more things you can have the guys do in the north hall?"
"Yeah, Jonah. I—I'm sorry."
"It's okay, man. Just give me some space."
"You got it boss," and with that Mac left the trailer. Outside Will could hear him rallying the other construction workers, "Alright, let's get to work! Steve, have those forms come in yet?"
Will, or Jonah as he had come to be called since entering the Witness Protection Program, slumped over onto the drafting table. He'd been working incessantly on these plans but every time he'd finished the owners would call him up with another change.
"Jonah, I was thinking that it would be a great idea to switch the floor-to-ceiling window from the west wall to the north wall . . . "
"Jonah, about that parquet flooring, we were thinking that it might be good to switch to marble. You know the acoustics might have to be altered a little for that, but I'm sure you can handle it."
"Hey, do you think that you can still make all those changes by the same deadline? I'd really appreciate it, buddy."
It wasn't like this job was any different from any of the others. There were always changes and there were always deadlines and they rarely complimented one another. It was a profession that required a lot of his time, but since the brief time he'd shared with Sydney a few months back Will had become a work-a-holic. Work consumed him and if that was what it took to keep her from his mind then that is what he'd do.
He was so tired though. So tired.
He sat back up again and reached for his coffee. He downed a large gulp like it was his life and then set it back down again before returning to the plans in front of him. But it was somewhere between the time that he picked up his ruler and pencil that his mind drifted off . . .
He and Sydney were in the Warsaw safe house sharing a bottle of Vodka. Sydney had laid her head in his lap where they were sprawled on the floor. Sydney passed the bottle up to him and cleared her throat.
"Let's talk about you. A beautiful painter lives in your building and you haven't asked her out yet. Why?"
Will laughed nervously and took a swig from the bottle. Why had he even mentioned that to her? "Because Jonah's recovering from a post-traumatic dating syndrome after his last girlfriend dumped him by ramming a bayonet into his lungs. Let's go back to you. Okay, you and Vaughn's wife."
"Yeah, I hate her. I mean I don't, she's nice..."
"You hate her."
She almost seemed reluctant to say it. "Yeah."
Will couldn't help it, he laughed. "It's okay."
"But not 'cause of her. It's just... I still love him."
"That sucks." His heart threatened to break. Not for himself, he already knew where her true feelings laid. He just hated seeing Sydney this way.
She sat up then and looked at him with watery eyes. "You know, Will, considering everything, I think I'm pretty normal. I'm emotional. I try to be honest, but I've never been a depressed person until now.""I get it." Oh, he understood all to well. His own shock at learning all those most dear to him were dead had made him suicidal for a time, but he knew his own situation paled in comparison to hers.
"I mean, nothing has felt the same this year, and it's... It's not just Vaughn. It's you, and Francie." She began crying. "I don't know..."
"What?" He touched her arm tenatively.
"I'm just alone," she said no longer able to hold back the stream of tears. Will reached for her and she for him.
"Hey, it's okay." He just wanted to hold her until it didn't hurt anymore.
She began to kiss him.
He felt like he should stop her, but his longing for her was too strong and so he held her closer and returned her kisses.
"Syd," he said huskily.
Then he understood. He felt her hunger. Her hunger for someone to heal her. He wanted to be that someone. He had always wanted to be that someone.
"Oh, God. Syd, I love you," he said out loud into the emptiness of the trailer, once again coming out of his memories. He was shaking from the deepest parts of himself and could feel the sweat pouring down his brow. "I need to let you go." He stood up and began to pace the room.
"I need to let you go – but I just can't!"
