Hi everyone! Sorry it's been so long since I last updated this! For once I actually do have a good reason - this chapter just didn't want to end, and as a result it is over 3 times the length of my normal chapters. I hope you enjoy it!
This fic is now going AU. It's set early S3, so all of S1&2 happened exactly as it was on the show, but Lauren's not evil and I'm re-writing most of the Lazarey stuff to make it fit with what I want.
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They stood together in a little cluster in the middle of the Rotunda; Sydney, Vaughn and Weiss.
"You actually said that?" Sydney laughed incredulously, as Weiss finished telling a story about his night out the previous night which, as Sydney and Vaughn did not fail to point out, was a night in the middle of the week when hardly anyone bothered going out to bars or clubs. But, if this latest account was anything to go by, there had been a fair few people out last night.
"Sure. Why not?" Weiss was genuinely puzzled by Sydney's disbelief. He looked to Vaughn for support, but immediately rolled his eyes comically when he saw the look of amusement on Vaughn's face.
"Oh, no reason," Sydney replied with an innocent smile, "just that you might have at least considered being tactful when talking to this woman."
"And you wonder why you're single," Vaughn chipped in, shaking his head good-naturedly at his friend. Sydney grinned at him, while Weiss chose to show his appreciation for Vaughn's sarcastic comment by muttering obscenities at him. However, his quiet remarks went unheard by Vaughn, whose heart had skipped a beat at the dazzling smile Sydney gave him and was currently smiling back at her, oblivious to everything else around them. It did not take Weiss long to notice this, and he waved his hand up and down between their faces in mock-disgust. The only effect this had was to cause Vaughn and Sydney to share another smile, this time communicating their mutual amusement at the situation and knowing that there would be plenty of time to discuss the things their previous smiles had communicated. It took them only the briefest of seconds to convey all this to each other, so Weiss hardly noticed the slight delay before they broke eye contact and turned towards him again.
"That's enough of that, thank you," Weiss quipped, causing them to blush faintly, although to all appearances they were doing nothing wrong – though Weiss knew better; although he did not know exactly what the meaning of the look that passed between them was, he knew that it was more than just a friendly smile you would give to an acquaintance as you passed them in the corridor.
"So, uh, you got any plans for the weekend?" Vaughn asked Weiss, wishing to divert the attention from himself and Sydney. Weiss raised his eyebrows. He never had plans for any weekend when the Kings were playing. "You wanna come over and watch the game, then?"
"Sure," Weiss nodded, knowing that Vaughn was only making small talk so that he would let him get away without having to hear Eric Weiss' Wise Insights On Marriage And What It Entails, namely, acting as if you are actually in love with your wife, rather than your not-as-dead-as-you-thought-she-was ex-girlfriend.
"You know, it's completely typical of you two to start thinking about the weekend on a Wednesday morning," Sydney observed with a smile.
"Well, we can't all be The Best Agent Who Ever Walked The Earth like you are," Weiss shot back and then took on an exaggerated philosophical look to continue, "some of us are merely ripples on an ocean of waves." Sydney gave a derisive snort at Weiss' expression, and Vaughn laughed quietly, knowing that his friend was very happy to be considered only average at his job. As Weiss had said many times during Sydney's year and a half as a double agent, to be the best you just had to work a lot harder than everyone else, a motto he had evidently adopted as his own. Their laughter faltered as a fourth person joined their group.
"Lauren," Vaughn greeted warmly.
"Hey Lauren," came from Weiss. Sydney was silent. She managed a weak smile, but Lauren's appearance had been an unexpected reminder of the way things were and, as well as not being prepared to see her rival in love, Sydney was still very unsure of herself whenever she was around Lauren.
"Eric, Sydney, hi," Lauren said briskly, but not without feeling, before turning to her husband. "Michael, I need to talk to you."
"Of course. What's the matter?" Vaughn asked, lines of worry creasing above his forehead.
Lauren glanced uncertainly at Sydney and then at Weiss. "In private," she said.
"Oh, okay. Sure." Vaughn sounded worried and he turned to his friends to say goodbye before he went to hear what was so confidential that even Sydney Bristow wasn't allowed to hear it. "I'll see you guys later," he said, giving Sydney a brief, but deeply meaningful, look. Sydney returned it, understanding that the casual phrase that people often used instead of goodbye held a double meaning for her. Weiss and Lauren, who were not as attuned to either Vaughn or Sydney as the two ex-lovers were to each other, caught neither the look nor any possible double entendre, and so were unaware that Sydney and Vaughn had made a plan to meet while in the presence of the two people who would disapprove of it most.
Weiss did, however, catch the tiny sigh that escaped Sydney's lips as Lauren led Vaughn away to a conference room at the other side of the building. He smiled sympathetically at her, and then gestured to his desk making a disgusted face at the pile of paperwork sitting there patiently waiting to be looked at. "How does a coffee sound?" he asked, turning back to her. She laughed and shook her head at him, the universal sign that he would never change his ways but that it didn't matter because he was fine just the way he was.
"Best suggestion I've heard all day," she replied with a brightness that was only partly forced. But as they headed in the direction of the cafeteria she added internally, Well, second best.
* * *
"What is it? Has something happened?" Vaughn asked of his wife as soon as the door had clicked shut behind him.
Lauren, standing a few feet in front of him and facing the other way, turned around to meet his eyes. "I was approached by Sark just now."
"What? Are you okay?" Vaughn closed the space between them almost before a millisecond had passed and placed his hands on her shoulders, concern flooding into his face as he spoke.
"I'm fine," Lauren replied quietly. "Just a little shaken up, that's all."
Vaughn sighed with relief and then remembered what had caused his concern in the first place. "What did he want?" he asked, removing his hands and letting them drop to his sides.
"He told me the identity of Lazarey's killer." Her voice was steady, despite her great uncertainty. Knowing what she did, she was almost afraid of what her husband's reaction would be and she noticed a strange look take hold of his eyes, though she could not understand what it was.
"Why the hell would Sark do that?" he wondered aloud.
"I don't know." She wished he wouldn't drag this out, wished she could get it over with and that they could go back to almost pretending that they were almost okay with Sydney's presence in their lives. The last thing they needed was this added complication. And then suddenly she wished she could drag it out for longer, that she didn't have to tell him, that they could stop time and live in this moment forever, because even though it was uncomfortable and awkward, Lauren felt sure that it must be as blissful as The Garden of Eden compared to the way things would be when she told him of her terrible discovery. But she knew that she had to tell him; if she kept this from him and he found out from another source he would think she had done it to stop him helping Sydney, and she couldn't bear him to think that of her. Lauren was wildly jealous of Sydney and always had been, but she was not cruel or vindictive and if Sydney really did need her help, she would not hesitate to give it. But, in this case, if what Sark had told her was true – and she was nearly certain it was – then Sydney was a murderer, and Lauren would not help her escape what she deserved.
"Michael, it was Sydney. I know you won't want to believe me, but it's the truth. This is evidence." And she held out an envelope in a shaking hand. He took it from her, and as she met his eyes she understood the look that had been there all along; it was fear and worry. So he had known. He had known for God knows how long and he hadn't said anything! "How long have you known?" she asked, her voice low, dangerous.
"Since we were first shown that video clip. I recognised her immediately." Vaughn did not bother to open the envelope and look at what he already knew he would see; instead he put it down on the large table in the middle of the room. He did not meet her intensely focused gaze; he could not bring himself to face the look of anger and betrayal he knew to be there.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Her voice rose in shrill tones of anger. "I suppose that's a stupid question, isn't it? You kept this to yourself to protect her!"
Vaughn did not answer. In truth he had barely heard her. He had known for a while that the woman in that video was Sydney, but he had been successful in pushing all thoughts of it to the back of his mind, reasoning that it would be easier to act like he knew nothing about it if he really did forget. And up until now, that strategy had worked. But now that it was out in the open he was forced to think the things he had been hoping to avoid thinking by forgetting. Does Sydney know that she killed a man in cold blood? Why hasn't she said anything to me? She wasn't there when Lauren and I were shown the video, and as far as I know she hasn't seen it. Maybe she doesn't know. Then she's unprepared for what will happen if Lauren reports this.
"Michael!" Lauren's voice sliced sharply into his whirring mind, snapping him back to attention. "Are you even listening to me?" She knew he wasn't, and a feeling that she hadn't had in a long time started to materialise in her stomach, prodding at her and making her feel sick. She tried to push it back into the cage where it had been locked for the past six months, but it fought back with all its might, pulling her back to a state of mind she had not experienced since she had locked the uneasy feeling away, though she had been unable to throw away the key.
Lauren Vaughn had been married for a week when she made the discovery. The day after the wedding, she had moved into her new husband's apartment and was still finding herself having to go through a box occasionally when she wanted to find something. On this particular occasion, she was looking for a pair of shoes that she wanted to wear to a friend's house and, though her husband, being, quite possibly, the most practical man in L.A., had insisted on unpacking everything the day she moved in, Lauren had still got one or two boxes of clothes or CDs that she had not, as yet, been able to face sorting out. So it was with great frustration that she almost turned the apartment upside down in search of the shoes in question, and when she was just about to give up, remembered that she had left a box of clothes and other accessories on the shelf of the wardrobe in their bedroom.
Upon inspection, it turned out that there were two identical boxes on this shelf, and because she had shoved the box she wanted up there in a rush before going to answer the phone, Lauren had no idea which box she should look in. In the end, she went for the box on the right, having nothing to go on other than the vague hope that the word "right" might bring her luck in finding the "right" box. She knew as soon as she lifted it off the shelf that it was the wrong one; it was much too light to be the box she wanted. But she took it down anyway, curiosity getting the better of her. She carried it to the bed and then set it down, debating whether or not she should open it.
There was no dust on the top flaps, suggesting that it had been put up there very recently. Perhaps it was some unneeded items that had been stowed away to make some room for her own things. She folded back the flaps of the box, and pushed her hair back behind her ears so that she could see what was in it. The first item she pulled out was an envelope with a single word on the front of it: Sydney. Lauren started to feel sick then, and wished that she had not taken the box down. This was obviously something she was not meant to see. But despite all this, she could not stop herself from lifting the unsealed flap of the envelope – she told herself she would not have done it if the envelope had been sealed – and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Feeling like a schoolgirl finding an exam paper and looking at the questions before an important exam, she started to read.
Sydney,
I am writing this in case anything happens to me while I am away on the op in Prague. It's a dangerous mission, and for that reason, I'm glad that you're not involved. I'm sure I will tell you all of this in person before I leave, but I wanted you to have it in writing, so that you never doubt my love for you.
I have loved you almost since the first moment I saw you, though in the beginning we had our differences, but even then I knew what an honour it was to work with you. Working alongside you is something I have been incredibly lucky to experience. But more than that, you have been my friend, a source of comfort in a time of need, and a beautiful sunflower in what is typically a dark existence.
Sometimes I still find it hard to believe that someone who I love so much returns my feelings to exactly the same degree, but every moment I spend with you convinces me that it's true. Thank you, Sydney. Thank you for loving me and allowing me to love you. I know we haven't said the words out loud yet, but I can't bear to think that I might die without you knowing that I think them every second of every day. Our love is strong, yet our relationship sometimes seems fragile, as if we're both too scared to completely commit to it for fear that it will shatter and only one of us will be left to pick up and treasure the broken pieces.
So if I don't say this in person to you, know that I mean it: I love you, Sydney Bristow.
Always yours,
Michael Vaughn
With a trembling hand, she put the letter back into its envelope and back into the box. She felt sicker than ever now, knowing that this letter had, until this week, been kept out somewhere in the apartment. She wondered if he had read it often. Obviously, the mission it was written before had gone well, because, as her marriage testified, he was still alive and well. She started to think about his relationship with Sydney, and wondered if he had ever got up the courage to tell her that he loved her. He had never told her much about Sydney, only her name and a few details about their professional relationship. But Lauren had heard plenty from other sources; Sydney Bristow was beautiful, brave, highly intelligent and wonderfully kind, everyone who met her loved her instantly and of all the stars on the CIA wall, Sydney was one of the most sorely missed.
Though the rational part of her brain was screaming at her to stop, Lauren was unable to prevent herself from delving into the box again and drawing out an item wrapped in tissue paper. Carefully she peeled back the rustly paper and stared down at the antique silver photo frame in her hand. The beautiful frame encased a picture of a little girl, who Lauren knew to be a younger Sydney, and a smiling woman who looked to be her adoring mother. Lauren wondered briefly why her husband had this picture, which was evidently one of the only items salvaged from Sydney's burnt apartment, and why it hadn't been given to Jack. Suddenly she was startled by a noise in the kitchen, and guiltily jumped to her feet, panicking about how she would explain things to Michael if he came into the room. But it was only a piece of paper falling from the fridge, and Lauren sighed with relief when she realised that. She looked down at the photo frame in her hand, and at the box open on the bed, and it suddenly struck her what she was doing. She quickly put the frame back into the box, and the box back on the shelf where it had been before. Still feeling queasy, and very ashamed of herself for prying into Michael's old relationship like that, she remembered that she would be late for dinner with her friend.
All through dinner and late into the night she felt uneasy about the box she had found. She thought of the photograph of Sydney and Michael, still in an immaculate frame on the bedside table on Michael's side of the bed. Why did he still keep the relics of his lost love out in the open even though he was now married to another woman? Was he still in love with her? She told herself not to be stupid, that he was perfectly entitled to keep photographs and reminders of a girlfriend who had been ripped from his life by Death's cruel hand. But still the thoughts tore at her mind, the faint sickness now turned to an excruciating gnawing at her insides. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force sleep to come, but all she saw was Sydney's face from the photograph smiling at her, her eyes sparkling merrily because Michael – her Michael - was holding the camera. As sleep brushed its soft fingers over her, Lauren's vision of Sydney began to change: her joyful smile was taunting, her eyes sparkled not with love, but malice, and she whispered words of hatred in Lauren's ear.
"You read the letter," Sydney hissed. "You read my letter. You think he won't find out, but he will. I'll tell him. And he'll listen to me. You know that, don't you? He always listens to me. Who do you think he'll trust more? The love of his life or you, his frightened little wife, who's too scared to tell him she doesn't like the picture he sees before he sleeps."
Lauren awoke the next morning looking pale and washed-out as a result of her restless sleep, and still she could not shake the feeling of discomfort that had taken residence inside her.
"Sorry, Lauren. What was that?" Vaughn finally snapped out of his thoughts, not realising that she had been equally lost in memories and had not spoken for a good few minutes.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter," she brushed him off, still trying to dislodge the terrible feeling that her memories had only wedged deeper into her insides. He looked at her strangely for a second, wondering why she had been so angry a few minutes ago and now didn't want to talk about what was bothering her. It was so unlike Lauren to be guarded of her feelings; usually she would talk to him about anything and everything that was on her mind.
"What are you going to do about this?" he asked, gesturing towards the envelope on the desk.
"I'm going to give them to Lindsey," she replied firmly, much to his surprise. He had expected her to at least try to think of a way to get past this. "I didn't come to you for advice, Michael. I just thought you should know."
"Lauren, think about what you're doing," he began rationally, trying to keep calm, knowing that was the only way to win his wife round.
"I'm doing my job."
"But what if that's not Sydney?! What if she didn't kill him?" He was getting desperate now, if there was even the tiniest hope that Sydney was innocent, he would make sure that she did not suffer for this.
"That's a distant hope. You know as well as I do that Sydney Bristow killed Lazarey!"
"No, Lauren, we don't know that! For God's sake, Sark gave you those pictures!"
"You said yourself that you recognised her in the video!"
"I never believed it," he said quietly, after a pause, and then with more conviction, "I never believed it. Not for one second, Lauren. Syd couldn't do that. You don't know her the way I do, you don't know…" he faltered, trying to stop himself from breaking down. Sydney needed him now, he was fighting to give her a chance and he wouldn't crumble, he mustn't let those pictures get to Lindsey.
"I believe you that she wouldn't willingly kill someone. I may not know her as well as anyone else around here, but from what I've seen I know she puts other people before everything else. But you have to consider the possibility that she had no choice. You don't know what they might have threatened to get her to do it, who they might have threatened," she said, giving him a pointed look.
"I know what you're saying Lauren, but I'm telling you Syd did not kill that man! I just know it. I don't understand how, I just do."
"Stop it!" she almost screamed, her bottled up jealousy and rage finally breaking itself loose. "Stop it!"
"Stop what?" he asked, alarmed.
"Stop calling her 'Syd' like that," she sobbed. "No one else calls her that. Even her own father calls her Sydney."
He took a deep breath to stop himself from yelling all the things he wanted to yell at her and moved close to her, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Listen, you're obviously stressed right now, and after your encounter with Sark, I can't say I blame you. Let's just forget about this for now, okay?"
"I can't," she sniffed, not failing to see through his attempt to buy Sydney some time which was blended into his genuine concern for her own happiness. "You know that I have to report this."
"Lauren, please. Let me prove that Sydney didn't kill him. Just give me a little time."
His gentle tone and comforting arms combined was too much for her, and she caved to his request, unable to stand the tortured look on his face for a moment longer. "Okay," she conceded. "But only two days. If you haven't proved her innocence by Friday night, I'm going to Lindsey with this."
"Thank you," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you." He held her to him for a few moments, softly stroking her hair to stop the tears.
* * *
Vaughn was at the warehouse a good half hour before Sydney that night – he had raced there from work, knowing that time was very definitely of the essence. Sydney, having no such idea, took her time and stopped at home to change her clothes and get something to eat before leaving again to meet Vaughn. By the time she arrived he had had more than enough time to think about the dangerous situation Sydney was in, and thrown more than twenty plans of action out the window because they were not possible, would take too much time, would break one law too many even for them.
Sydney had a bounce in her step as she entered the warehouse, sliding the gate closed behind her before turning to smile brightly at Vaughn. An afternoon in the company of Weiss had done wonders to cheer her up and she almost felt that she had not got quite so many problems in her life. Vaughn's mood was as far from Sydney's as it could possibly get, but on seeing her beautiful features lightened by her happiness the black cloud was lifted from over his head, and his eyes lit up the way they always did when she walked into a room. But Sydney was sensitive to every single change in his state of mind and the serious look on his face that had been quickly replaced by a smile did not escape her notice. Just as she had transferred some of her happiness onto him, he had transferred some of his concern and worry onto her.
Before Sydney could ask what was wrong, Vaughn walked forward and enveloped her in a warm hug. It felt like an eternity since they had last been in each other's arms. Sydney sighed half with pleasure and half with sorrow at the fact that it had been so long since she had felt this way. The hug was comforting and reassuring, not hesitant and fragile-feeling, as Vaughn had suspected it might be. When they both became acutely aware that they had been wrapped in the embrace for far longer than was acceptable considering the situation, they reluctantly pulled apart. Their faces passed close to each other as they moved away and Sydney held her breath as she looked into his eyes. He was so close…just one inch more and she would feel his lips on hers once again. But she knew they mustn't, and so did he. Without breaking eye contact they moved fully apart, both smiling apologetically, a distinct look of sadness dwelling in their eyes.
"Syd, there's something I need to talk to you about," Vaughn said, starting to feel uncomfortable about the conversation that he had been dreading all day.
"Vaughn, what is it?" Sydney asked, alarm evident in her voice and in the rabbit-in-the-headlights expression on her face.
"Did you know…" he faltered, and then tried again. "Have you seen the video clip that Lauren has been assigned to work on?"
Sydney looked off to the side, down at the floor and lastly back up at him. "Lazarey," she nodded.
"How long have you known?" he asked incredulously, unable to completely keep the note of anger out of his voice.
"Vaughn, I wanted to tell you." She jumped in with her reply, trying to reassure him and all the time wishing that she had not kept such a secret.
"So why didn't you?" he retorted bluntly.
"For so many reasons…firstly, I didn't want you to be forced to keep it from Lauren, and I know that you would have if I'd told you. I just…I didn't want another complication to be added to your marriage because of me. And I was also scared – I felt like saying it out loud made it real, somehow…as if confessing what I've done makes it true, but if I don't say anything then there's a chance that it didn't actually happen." She smiled at him sadly. "I know that's stupid, and cowardly…I wanted to turn myself in, but my dad wouldn't let me. I know he's just doing what's best for me…if the NSC finds out, God knows what they'll do to me." Vaughn tensed, though he tried to hide it. "Oh God, they know, don't they? That's what you wanted to tell me."
"Lauren knows, yes. But she's not going to Lindsey yet. We've got until Friday night to prove that you didn't do it."
"But, Vaughn, I did!" she protested, tears pricking the back of her eyes as the panic began to set in.
"How do you know that? Do you remember?" Vaughn asked, joining Sydney in her panic when he first realised that there might not be a way to prove Sydney's innocence. That there might not be a way because she might not be innocent.
"No. No, I don't remember," she said in a trembling voice.
Vaughn sighed with relief; at least they didn't have to rule out the option that this might be one huge mistake. When he next spoke his voice was gentle and comforting. "Sydney, you can't give up on yourself like this. Do you know, that I never doubted for one second that you're innocent in all this? We are going to find a way to show Lauren that you're not guilty of Lazarey's murder. And we're going to start right here." He took a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her. Sydney smiled gratefully at him as she dried her tears, understanding that the simple gesture was the first step for them both to start thinking more positively.
The trunk of Vaughn's car was cramped and stuffy, but Sydney was grateful for what he was doing for her, the risks he was taking to keep her safe. She struggled to change her clothes in the tiny space and soon she heard Vaughn's reassuring voice in her ear.
"Are you alright?" he asked concernedly.
"You didn't think about it? Not once? The possibility that Rambaldi could be right about me," she replied, while changing out of her top and replacing it with a blue velvet one that matched her trousers to make up one hideous, but disguising nonetheless, outfit. It was not meant as an answer to his question, but as something that she needed to know. She was still wondering why he was going to such lengths for her, wanting to believe that it was because of what she meant to him but not quite sure that to believe that would not be kidding herself. This was her way of testing him, finding out just how blindly devoted to her he really was. He passed the test with flying colours.
"No, I didn't," he said, a little surprised that she thought he would ever believe something like that about her. It just went to show that, on the inside, Sydney Bristow was really quite insecure.
"Why not?" she questioned softly, wishing that his answer would confirm the hopes that had recently filled most of her daydreams, and a fair few of her actual sleeping dreams too.
He thought for a second before replying, trying to figure out how to word his feelings. In the end he went for the reply that was perhaps the most simple, yet at the same time was the one that encapsulated everything he had ever felt about Sydney. "Because I believe in you." She breathed a tiny sigh of relief, and allowed herself a small smile. He paused for the effect of his words to completely sink in, and to separate his comment from the one that followed. "Did you think I'd just throw anyone in my trunk?" Sydney laughed then, amazed that even in the worst of situations, he could still lift her spirits and make her laugh. Though she was immensely glad for the way he could brighten her mood, she could not help shaking her head slightly at his ability to make jokes even when they were in serious trouble. She hoped this was a side of him she would get to see a lot more of in the future.
Vaughn grinned at Sydney, aware that they were both remembering a certain car ride, and she grinned back at him, dimples dancing in her cheeks the way they had done that day. He turned to the crate behind him and picked up a box that Sydney had not noticed sitting there when she came in.
"It's not much, I know, but it's a start," he said, holding the box out to her. She took it from him and rifled quickly through its contents; stacks of papers and files with "CLASSIFIED" printed across the front of them.
"Where did you get all this?" she gasped.
"I took it from Dixon's office when he was at lunch." Sydney stared at him aghast for a moment, and then broke into giggles at the thought of Vaughn breaking into the CIA Director's office. "Well, I'm glad you can see the funny side of this," he smirked. "Because I'm going to be in a lot of trouble when Dixon finds out."
"Dixon will understand" Sydney told him softly. "Thank you." They were silent for a few seconds, neither one willing to allow reality to crash into their peaceful moment.
"Well, uh, I guess we'd better get started." Vaughn finally broke the peace, tearing his eyes away from Sydney's and taking the box from her hands to put it back on the table. "Pull up a chair," he said with a smile.
Together they went through file after file, sifting through every sentence in a desperate attempt to find something the CIA had missed, anything that might indicate Sydney did not kill Lazarey. After a while Sydney looked up.
"Hey Vaughn, do you actually have a plan?"
"Nope," he smiled, half apologetically, half jokingly. "I just figured we'd go through anything and everything we could get out hands on."
"Well, it's sure as hell better than my plan," he gave her a questioning look and she explained "do nothing and wait to get caught."
He smiled, and then revealed the true depth of the thought he had given to helping her. "Actually, I do have a better plan than just reading."
"Oh?" she looked up eagerly and pleasantly surprised that there might still be hope.
"I have a contact in Russia. I spoke to his wife earlier and she said he's out of the country on business, but he'll be back tomorrow. I think he might just be able to help us."
"Good," she smiled.
"Well, it's worth a try, anyway," he said modestly, shrugging, as if he hadn't really helped at all.
"Don't put yourself down like that," she replied emphatically. "I'm so grateful to you for helping me like this."
"I only hope I can help," he sighed. "You were always better than me in the ideas department."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," she replied with a secretive smile, which rapidly became a dimpled grin as he continued to look at her with curiosity. "You set that back door into SD-6's computer system thing in motion."
"That was kind of genius, wasn't it?" he grinned, enjoying their playful conversation.
"You bet it was," she grinned back.
"Vaughn, we're in."
Vaughn bent to look at the computer screen over the agent's shoulder.
"What's this?" demanded Sydney, confused and slightly annoyed that she obviously wasn't being kept in the loop.
"This is the main reason we made the switch in Berlin." Vaughn filled her in without taking his eyes off the screen, a fact that only infuriated Sydney further.
"We had Kelvin give Sloane access to a bogus website with just enough real information about the vaccine to keep them occupied for months." The agent at the computer elaborated on Vaughn's somewhat sketchy and completely unsatisfying explanation.
"Is that really worth risking a man's life?" Sydney asked, raising her eyebrows at the idea that they would really do something like this.
"Uh, no there's more," Weiss interjected, defending his friend's plan, since Vaughn showed no signs of defending it himself. "Once SD-6 downloads and runs the bogus program it'll give us a back door into their computer systems."
"In other words, we have access to their entire network?" Sydney asked slowly, her heartbeat speeding up at this huge leap forward they had suddenly taken. "Files, contacts, accounts?" she continued as the full impact began to sink in.
"This is a huge step in shutting down SD-6," Vaughn confirmed, inwardly glowing that Sydney was impressed, even though she didn't know it had been his idea.
"Nice," she said, and Vaughn noticed how beautiful she looked when she was happy; something he did not get to see very often.
"It was Agent Vaughn's idea," said the other agent, and Vaughn felt that he was halfway between punching him for announcing this to Sydney, a move he felt sure was done only to see if it provoked any reaction – they had not been working together for long, but already the rumours about Vaughn and Sydney were shooting from wall to wall of the CIA offices – and hugging him for ensuring that Sydney found out who she had to thank for this new development but without being told by him personally, thus avoiding any chance of her thinking that he had only done it to impress her.
Sydney's breath caught slightly in her throat when she heard this, and she looked up at Vaughn slightly in awe of her handler who she had previously considered incompetent.
"You look so surprised," he teased her.
"No, I just –," Taking him seriously, she tried to backtrack.
"Yes, it was my idea," he continued, not really offended but trying to get her to react.
"Amazing idea," she told him with a genuine smile.
"Thank you. I know," he joked, and gained his second victory of the day by making her laugh. Still grinning, he turned back to the computer to stop himself from gazing at Sydney like a lovesick idiot while Weiss was in the same room. That, he felt sure, would be something he would never live down.
They shared a laugh over the memory, and then looked back down at their work, though it did not last for long.
"Hey Syd?"
"Yeah?"
"I think that was just about the first nice thing you said to me."
"It was not!" she retorted indignantly, before she saw the teasing look on his face and laughed. "It was right at the beginning of our friendship, though," she said contemplatively.
"Yeah, it was," he murmured. "I never thought, back then, that I would ever feel like I could talk to you about anything."
"I did," Sydney stated. "I knew ever since that night at the pier that no matter what, you would always listen to me. Even though I haven't shown that lately, I never forgot it."
"It just shows that, even all that time ago, you knew yourself a lot better than I knew myself," he continued, and she put her pen down and clasped her hands together on the table focusing her gaze keenly on his eyes, sensing that he needed her full attention. "I mean, I knew then that I would always be there for you, and that I'd listen to anything you had to say, no matter how trivial, but I didn't think for one moment that maybe I needed you just as much as you needed me."
Sydney smiled understandingly at him, and a comfortable silence descended over the warehouse as they both returned to wading through the files. When they had read through everything at least twice and done all they could do with the information, which was not much, they put the files back into the box and stood up to leave.
"Sydney…" Vaughn started. She stopped with one arm in her jacket and the other one out, and looked at him inquiringly. "I still wish you'd told me about this before."
"I know," she said quietly. "I wish I'd told you as well. The past few weeks have been hell without someone to talk to about it. I could have talked to my father, but I never felt right telling him what I was going through. I came close to telling you so many times, just so I could have someone to talk to about it, but then I'd just tell myself how selfish that would be. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I understand why you did it, and I don't blame you for it – you were trying to protect me. I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same. I fact, I know I would have. Just, next time…talk to me, okay?"
"Well, I wasn't planning on there being a next time," she joked, but then grew serious. "Of course I'll tell you, Vaughn," she promised in a breaking voice.
Vaughn took a deep breath, willing himself to get through the next few minutes of his life without making a gigantic fool out of himself.
"Listen," he began, "as far as your mother's concerned, it's ridiculous for you to worry about me. I'm fine. What she did to my father, I can handle. But when I heard what your father did, coming to see you like that, I…I realised how insane this must be for him…having your mother back in his life." Sydney watched him, wondering where he was going with his and why she could sense that he was nervous about saying this to her. He took another deep breath and sighed before continuing, his shoulders jumping up and down, giving away his tension and anxiety. "Which only concerned me because that means he's not making it any easier for you. So, before you leave for Moscow," he said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. He swallowed nervously before carrying on again, "I just wanted to say that you might feel alone in all this, like you don't have an ally. I'm your ally. Never question that."
Sydney nodded, her eyes filling with tears at his heartfelt speech. They were interrupted then, by an agent telling her that her plane was standing by, and Sydney wasn't sure whether she was grateful to him for stopping what she suspected might have ended with them crossing a line that must not be crossed, or angry at him for just that reason. Vaughn smiled at her.
"I'll see you when I get back," she told him solemnly, and then smiled softly at him, telling him without speaking how much his words had meant to her.
"You're my ally," she said, as the tears began to fall. "And I'll never, ever question that." She shook her head as she spoke to emphasise the strength of what she said, and he knew that she meant it. "Our friendship means so much to me, Vaughn, just as much as...," she sighed, unable to finish her sentence. "I love you in more ways than just one," she eventually said by way of explanation, dancing around what she had been going to say before but had felt that it was still too painful to voice.
Vaughn did not need to hear the words to know what she meant, because he felt the same way. "I know, Syd," he said affectionately. "You're my closest friend…don't let me ever lose sight of that, okay?"
"I won't," Sydney smiled, understanding what that meant – that no matter how much their relationship as friends was threatened, she mustn't let it come to any harm. Suddenly she fully processed what he had said and grinned wickedly. "I also won't tell Weiss that I've bumped him down to second."
He laughed, and pushed her towards the door, grabbing the box as he went. "Good idea. There's no telling what he might do to get back to Number One."
This fic is now going AU. It's set early S3, so all of S1&2 happened exactly as it was on the show, but Lauren's not evil and I'm re-writing most of the Lazarey stuff to make it fit with what I want.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
They stood together in a little cluster in the middle of the Rotunda; Sydney, Vaughn and Weiss.
"You actually said that?" Sydney laughed incredulously, as Weiss finished telling a story about his night out the previous night which, as Sydney and Vaughn did not fail to point out, was a night in the middle of the week when hardly anyone bothered going out to bars or clubs. But, if this latest account was anything to go by, there had been a fair few people out last night.
"Sure. Why not?" Weiss was genuinely puzzled by Sydney's disbelief. He looked to Vaughn for support, but immediately rolled his eyes comically when he saw the look of amusement on Vaughn's face.
"Oh, no reason," Sydney replied with an innocent smile, "just that you might have at least considered being tactful when talking to this woman."
"And you wonder why you're single," Vaughn chipped in, shaking his head good-naturedly at his friend. Sydney grinned at him, while Weiss chose to show his appreciation for Vaughn's sarcastic comment by muttering obscenities at him. However, his quiet remarks went unheard by Vaughn, whose heart had skipped a beat at the dazzling smile Sydney gave him and was currently smiling back at her, oblivious to everything else around them. It did not take Weiss long to notice this, and he waved his hand up and down between their faces in mock-disgust. The only effect this had was to cause Vaughn and Sydney to share another smile, this time communicating their mutual amusement at the situation and knowing that there would be plenty of time to discuss the things their previous smiles had communicated. It took them only the briefest of seconds to convey all this to each other, so Weiss hardly noticed the slight delay before they broke eye contact and turned towards him again.
"That's enough of that, thank you," Weiss quipped, causing them to blush faintly, although to all appearances they were doing nothing wrong – though Weiss knew better; although he did not know exactly what the meaning of the look that passed between them was, he knew that it was more than just a friendly smile you would give to an acquaintance as you passed them in the corridor.
"So, uh, you got any plans for the weekend?" Vaughn asked Weiss, wishing to divert the attention from himself and Sydney. Weiss raised his eyebrows. He never had plans for any weekend when the Kings were playing. "You wanna come over and watch the game, then?"
"Sure," Weiss nodded, knowing that Vaughn was only making small talk so that he would let him get away without having to hear Eric Weiss' Wise Insights On Marriage And What It Entails, namely, acting as if you are actually in love with your wife, rather than your not-as-dead-as-you-thought-she-was ex-girlfriend.
"You know, it's completely typical of you two to start thinking about the weekend on a Wednesday morning," Sydney observed with a smile.
"Well, we can't all be The Best Agent Who Ever Walked The Earth like you are," Weiss shot back and then took on an exaggerated philosophical look to continue, "some of us are merely ripples on an ocean of waves." Sydney gave a derisive snort at Weiss' expression, and Vaughn laughed quietly, knowing that his friend was very happy to be considered only average at his job. As Weiss had said many times during Sydney's year and a half as a double agent, to be the best you just had to work a lot harder than everyone else, a motto he had evidently adopted as his own. Their laughter faltered as a fourth person joined their group.
"Lauren," Vaughn greeted warmly.
"Hey Lauren," came from Weiss. Sydney was silent. She managed a weak smile, but Lauren's appearance had been an unexpected reminder of the way things were and, as well as not being prepared to see her rival in love, Sydney was still very unsure of herself whenever she was around Lauren.
"Eric, Sydney, hi," Lauren said briskly, but not without feeling, before turning to her husband. "Michael, I need to talk to you."
"Of course. What's the matter?" Vaughn asked, lines of worry creasing above his forehead.
Lauren glanced uncertainly at Sydney and then at Weiss. "In private," she said.
"Oh, okay. Sure." Vaughn sounded worried and he turned to his friends to say goodbye before he went to hear what was so confidential that even Sydney Bristow wasn't allowed to hear it. "I'll see you guys later," he said, giving Sydney a brief, but deeply meaningful, look. Sydney returned it, understanding that the casual phrase that people often used instead of goodbye held a double meaning for her. Weiss and Lauren, who were not as attuned to either Vaughn or Sydney as the two ex-lovers were to each other, caught neither the look nor any possible double entendre, and so were unaware that Sydney and Vaughn had made a plan to meet while in the presence of the two people who would disapprove of it most.
Weiss did, however, catch the tiny sigh that escaped Sydney's lips as Lauren led Vaughn away to a conference room at the other side of the building. He smiled sympathetically at her, and then gestured to his desk making a disgusted face at the pile of paperwork sitting there patiently waiting to be looked at. "How does a coffee sound?" he asked, turning back to her. She laughed and shook her head at him, the universal sign that he would never change his ways but that it didn't matter because he was fine just the way he was.
"Best suggestion I've heard all day," she replied with a brightness that was only partly forced. But as they headed in the direction of the cafeteria she added internally, Well, second best.
* * *
"What is it? Has something happened?" Vaughn asked of his wife as soon as the door had clicked shut behind him.
Lauren, standing a few feet in front of him and facing the other way, turned around to meet his eyes. "I was approached by Sark just now."
"What? Are you okay?" Vaughn closed the space between them almost before a millisecond had passed and placed his hands on her shoulders, concern flooding into his face as he spoke.
"I'm fine," Lauren replied quietly. "Just a little shaken up, that's all."
Vaughn sighed with relief and then remembered what had caused his concern in the first place. "What did he want?" he asked, removing his hands and letting them drop to his sides.
"He told me the identity of Lazarey's killer." Her voice was steady, despite her great uncertainty. Knowing what she did, she was almost afraid of what her husband's reaction would be and she noticed a strange look take hold of his eyes, though she could not understand what it was.
"Why the hell would Sark do that?" he wondered aloud.
"I don't know." She wished he wouldn't drag this out, wished she could get it over with and that they could go back to almost pretending that they were almost okay with Sydney's presence in their lives. The last thing they needed was this added complication. And then suddenly she wished she could drag it out for longer, that she didn't have to tell him, that they could stop time and live in this moment forever, because even though it was uncomfortable and awkward, Lauren felt sure that it must be as blissful as The Garden of Eden compared to the way things would be when she told him of her terrible discovery. But she knew that she had to tell him; if she kept this from him and he found out from another source he would think she had done it to stop him helping Sydney, and she couldn't bear him to think that of her. Lauren was wildly jealous of Sydney and always had been, but she was not cruel or vindictive and if Sydney really did need her help, she would not hesitate to give it. But, in this case, if what Sark had told her was true – and she was nearly certain it was – then Sydney was a murderer, and Lauren would not help her escape what she deserved.
"Michael, it was Sydney. I know you won't want to believe me, but it's the truth. This is evidence." And she held out an envelope in a shaking hand. He took it from her, and as she met his eyes she understood the look that had been there all along; it was fear and worry. So he had known. He had known for God knows how long and he hadn't said anything! "How long have you known?" she asked, her voice low, dangerous.
"Since we were first shown that video clip. I recognised her immediately." Vaughn did not bother to open the envelope and look at what he already knew he would see; instead he put it down on the large table in the middle of the room. He did not meet her intensely focused gaze; he could not bring himself to face the look of anger and betrayal he knew to be there.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Her voice rose in shrill tones of anger. "I suppose that's a stupid question, isn't it? You kept this to yourself to protect her!"
Vaughn did not answer. In truth he had barely heard her. He had known for a while that the woman in that video was Sydney, but he had been successful in pushing all thoughts of it to the back of his mind, reasoning that it would be easier to act like he knew nothing about it if he really did forget. And up until now, that strategy had worked. But now that it was out in the open he was forced to think the things he had been hoping to avoid thinking by forgetting. Does Sydney know that she killed a man in cold blood? Why hasn't she said anything to me? She wasn't there when Lauren and I were shown the video, and as far as I know she hasn't seen it. Maybe she doesn't know. Then she's unprepared for what will happen if Lauren reports this.
"Michael!" Lauren's voice sliced sharply into his whirring mind, snapping him back to attention. "Are you even listening to me?" She knew he wasn't, and a feeling that she hadn't had in a long time started to materialise in her stomach, prodding at her and making her feel sick. She tried to push it back into the cage where it had been locked for the past six months, but it fought back with all its might, pulling her back to a state of mind she had not experienced since she had locked the uneasy feeling away, though she had been unable to throw away the key.
Lauren Vaughn had been married for a week when she made the discovery. The day after the wedding, she had moved into her new husband's apartment and was still finding herself having to go through a box occasionally when she wanted to find something. On this particular occasion, she was looking for a pair of shoes that she wanted to wear to a friend's house and, though her husband, being, quite possibly, the most practical man in L.A., had insisted on unpacking everything the day she moved in, Lauren had still got one or two boxes of clothes or CDs that she had not, as yet, been able to face sorting out. So it was with great frustration that she almost turned the apartment upside down in search of the shoes in question, and when she was just about to give up, remembered that she had left a box of clothes and other accessories on the shelf of the wardrobe in their bedroom.
Upon inspection, it turned out that there were two identical boxes on this shelf, and because she had shoved the box she wanted up there in a rush before going to answer the phone, Lauren had no idea which box she should look in. In the end, she went for the box on the right, having nothing to go on other than the vague hope that the word "right" might bring her luck in finding the "right" box. She knew as soon as she lifted it off the shelf that it was the wrong one; it was much too light to be the box she wanted. But she took it down anyway, curiosity getting the better of her. She carried it to the bed and then set it down, debating whether or not she should open it.
There was no dust on the top flaps, suggesting that it had been put up there very recently. Perhaps it was some unneeded items that had been stowed away to make some room for her own things. She folded back the flaps of the box, and pushed her hair back behind her ears so that she could see what was in it. The first item she pulled out was an envelope with a single word on the front of it: Sydney. Lauren started to feel sick then, and wished that she had not taken the box down. This was obviously something she was not meant to see. But despite all this, she could not stop herself from lifting the unsealed flap of the envelope – she told herself she would not have done it if the envelope had been sealed – and pulled out a single sheet of paper. Feeling like a schoolgirl finding an exam paper and looking at the questions before an important exam, she started to read.
I am writing this in case anything happens to me while I am away on the op in Prague. It's a dangerous mission, and for that reason, I'm glad that you're not involved. I'm sure I will tell you all of this in person before I leave, but I wanted you to have it in writing, so that you never doubt my love for you.
I have loved you almost since the first moment I saw you, though in the beginning we had our differences, but even then I knew what an honour it was to work with you. Working alongside you is something I have been incredibly lucky to experience. But more than that, you have been my friend, a source of comfort in a time of need, and a beautiful sunflower in what is typically a dark existence.
Sometimes I still find it hard to believe that someone who I love so much returns my feelings to exactly the same degree, but every moment I spend with you convinces me that it's true. Thank you, Sydney. Thank you for loving me and allowing me to love you. I know we haven't said the words out loud yet, but I can't bear to think that I might die without you knowing that I think them every second of every day. Our love is strong, yet our relationship sometimes seems fragile, as if we're both too scared to completely commit to it for fear that it will shatter and only one of us will be left to pick up and treasure the broken pieces.
So if I don't say this in person to you, know that I mean it: I love you, Sydney Bristow.
Always yours,
Michael Vaughn
With a trembling hand, she put the letter back into its envelope and back into the box. She felt sicker than ever now, knowing that this letter had, until this week, been kept out somewhere in the apartment. She wondered if he had read it often. Obviously, the mission it was written before had gone well, because, as her marriage testified, he was still alive and well. She started to think about his relationship with Sydney, and wondered if he had ever got up the courage to tell her that he loved her. He had never told her much about Sydney, only her name and a few details about their professional relationship. But Lauren had heard plenty from other sources; Sydney Bristow was beautiful, brave, highly intelligent and wonderfully kind, everyone who met her loved her instantly and of all the stars on the CIA wall, Sydney was one of the most sorely missed.
Though the rational part of her brain was screaming at her to stop, Lauren was unable to prevent herself from delving into the box again and drawing out an item wrapped in tissue paper. Carefully she peeled back the rustly paper and stared down at the antique silver photo frame in her hand. The beautiful frame encased a picture of a little girl, who Lauren knew to be a younger Sydney, and a smiling woman who looked to be her adoring mother. Lauren wondered briefly why her husband had this picture, which was evidently one of the only items salvaged from Sydney's burnt apartment, and why it hadn't been given to Jack. Suddenly she was startled by a noise in the kitchen, and guiltily jumped to her feet, panicking about how she would explain things to Michael if he came into the room. But it was only a piece of paper falling from the fridge, and Lauren sighed with relief when she realised that. She looked down at the photo frame in her hand, and at the box open on the bed, and it suddenly struck her what she was doing. She quickly put the frame back into the box, and the box back on the shelf where it had been before. Still feeling queasy, and very ashamed of herself for prying into Michael's old relationship like that, she remembered that she would be late for dinner with her friend.
All through dinner and late into the night she felt uneasy about the box she had found. She thought of the photograph of Sydney and Michael, still in an immaculate frame on the bedside table on Michael's side of the bed. Why did he still keep the relics of his lost love out in the open even though he was now married to another woman? Was he still in love with her? She told herself not to be stupid, that he was perfectly entitled to keep photographs and reminders of a girlfriend who had been ripped from his life by Death's cruel hand. But still the thoughts tore at her mind, the faint sickness now turned to an excruciating gnawing at her insides. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to force sleep to come, but all she saw was Sydney's face from the photograph smiling at her, her eyes sparkling merrily because Michael – her Michael - was holding the camera. As sleep brushed its soft fingers over her, Lauren's vision of Sydney began to change: her joyful smile was taunting, her eyes sparkled not with love, but malice, and she whispered words of hatred in Lauren's ear.
"You read the letter," Sydney hissed. "You read my letter. You think he won't find out, but he will. I'll tell him. And he'll listen to me. You know that, don't you? He always listens to me. Who do you think he'll trust more? The love of his life or you, his frightened little wife, who's too scared to tell him she doesn't like the picture he sees before he sleeps."
Lauren awoke the next morning looking pale and washed-out as a result of her restless sleep, and still she could not shake the feeling of discomfort that had taken residence inside her.
"Sorry, Lauren. What was that?" Vaughn finally snapped out of his thoughts, not realising that she had been equally lost in memories and had not spoken for a good few minutes.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter," she brushed him off, still trying to dislodge the terrible feeling that her memories had only wedged deeper into her insides. He looked at her strangely for a second, wondering why she had been so angry a few minutes ago and now didn't want to talk about what was bothering her. It was so unlike Lauren to be guarded of her feelings; usually she would talk to him about anything and everything that was on her mind.
"What are you going to do about this?" he asked, gesturing towards the envelope on the desk.
"I'm going to give them to Lindsey," she replied firmly, much to his surprise. He had expected her to at least try to think of a way to get past this. "I didn't come to you for advice, Michael. I just thought you should know."
"Lauren, think about what you're doing," he began rationally, trying to keep calm, knowing that was the only way to win his wife round.
"I'm doing my job."
"But what if that's not Sydney?! What if she didn't kill him?" He was getting desperate now, if there was even the tiniest hope that Sydney was innocent, he would make sure that she did not suffer for this.
"That's a distant hope. You know as well as I do that Sydney Bristow killed Lazarey!"
"No, Lauren, we don't know that! For God's sake, Sark gave you those pictures!"
"You said yourself that you recognised her in the video!"
"I never believed it," he said quietly, after a pause, and then with more conviction, "I never believed it. Not for one second, Lauren. Syd couldn't do that. You don't know her the way I do, you don't know…" he faltered, trying to stop himself from breaking down. Sydney needed him now, he was fighting to give her a chance and he wouldn't crumble, he mustn't let those pictures get to Lindsey.
"I believe you that she wouldn't willingly kill someone. I may not know her as well as anyone else around here, but from what I've seen I know she puts other people before everything else. But you have to consider the possibility that she had no choice. You don't know what they might have threatened to get her to do it, who they might have threatened," she said, giving him a pointed look.
"I know what you're saying Lauren, but I'm telling you Syd did not kill that man! I just know it. I don't understand how, I just do."
"Stop it!" she almost screamed, her bottled up jealousy and rage finally breaking itself loose. "Stop it!"
"Stop what?" he asked, alarmed.
"Stop calling her 'Syd' like that," she sobbed. "No one else calls her that. Even her own father calls her Sydney."
He took a deep breath to stop himself from yelling all the things he wanted to yell at her and moved close to her, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Listen, you're obviously stressed right now, and after your encounter with Sark, I can't say I blame you. Let's just forget about this for now, okay?"
"I can't," she sniffed, not failing to see through his attempt to buy Sydney some time which was blended into his genuine concern for her own happiness. "You know that I have to report this."
"Lauren, please. Let me prove that Sydney didn't kill him. Just give me a little time."
His gentle tone and comforting arms combined was too much for her, and she caved to his request, unable to stand the tortured look on his face for a moment longer. "Okay," she conceded. "But only two days. If you haven't proved her innocence by Friday night, I'm going to Lindsey with this."
"Thank you," he whispered into her hair. "Thank you." He held her to him for a few moments, softly stroking her hair to stop the tears.
* * *
Vaughn was at the warehouse a good half hour before Sydney that night – he had raced there from work, knowing that time was very definitely of the essence. Sydney, having no such idea, took her time and stopped at home to change her clothes and get something to eat before leaving again to meet Vaughn. By the time she arrived he had had more than enough time to think about the dangerous situation Sydney was in, and thrown more than twenty plans of action out the window because they were not possible, would take too much time, would break one law too many even for them.
Sydney had a bounce in her step as she entered the warehouse, sliding the gate closed behind her before turning to smile brightly at Vaughn. An afternoon in the company of Weiss had done wonders to cheer her up and she almost felt that she had not got quite so many problems in her life. Vaughn's mood was as far from Sydney's as it could possibly get, but on seeing her beautiful features lightened by her happiness the black cloud was lifted from over his head, and his eyes lit up the way they always did when she walked into a room. But Sydney was sensitive to every single change in his state of mind and the serious look on his face that had been quickly replaced by a smile did not escape her notice. Just as she had transferred some of her happiness onto him, he had transferred some of his concern and worry onto her.
Before Sydney could ask what was wrong, Vaughn walked forward and enveloped her in a warm hug. It felt like an eternity since they had last been in each other's arms. Sydney sighed half with pleasure and half with sorrow at the fact that it had been so long since she had felt this way. The hug was comforting and reassuring, not hesitant and fragile-feeling, as Vaughn had suspected it might be. When they both became acutely aware that they had been wrapped in the embrace for far longer than was acceptable considering the situation, they reluctantly pulled apart. Their faces passed close to each other as they moved away and Sydney held her breath as she looked into his eyes. He was so close…just one inch more and she would feel his lips on hers once again. But she knew they mustn't, and so did he. Without breaking eye contact they moved fully apart, both smiling apologetically, a distinct look of sadness dwelling in their eyes.
"Syd, there's something I need to talk to you about," Vaughn said, starting to feel uncomfortable about the conversation that he had been dreading all day.
"Vaughn, what is it?" Sydney asked, alarm evident in her voice and in the rabbit-in-the-headlights expression on her face.
"Did you know…" he faltered, and then tried again. "Have you seen the video clip that Lauren has been assigned to work on?"
Sydney looked off to the side, down at the floor and lastly back up at him. "Lazarey," she nodded.
"How long have you known?" he asked incredulously, unable to completely keep the note of anger out of his voice.
"Vaughn, I wanted to tell you." She jumped in with her reply, trying to reassure him and all the time wishing that she had not kept such a secret.
"So why didn't you?" he retorted bluntly.
"For so many reasons…firstly, I didn't want you to be forced to keep it from Lauren, and I know that you would have if I'd told you. I just…I didn't want another complication to be added to your marriage because of me. And I was also scared – I felt like saying it out loud made it real, somehow…as if confessing what I've done makes it true, but if I don't say anything then there's a chance that it didn't actually happen." She smiled at him sadly. "I know that's stupid, and cowardly…I wanted to turn myself in, but my dad wouldn't let me. I know he's just doing what's best for me…if the NSC finds out, God knows what they'll do to me." Vaughn tensed, though he tried to hide it. "Oh God, they know, don't they? That's what you wanted to tell me."
"Lauren knows, yes. But she's not going to Lindsey yet. We've got until Friday night to prove that you didn't do it."
"But, Vaughn, I did!" she protested, tears pricking the back of her eyes as the panic began to set in.
"How do you know that? Do you remember?" Vaughn asked, joining Sydney in her panic when he first realised that there might not be a way to prove Sydney's innocence. That there might not be a way because she might not be innocent.
"No. No, I don't remember," she said in a trembling voice.
Vaughn sighed with relief; at least they didn't have to rule out the option that this might be one huge mistake. When he next spoke his voice was gentle and comforting. "Sydney, you can't give up on yourself like this. Do you know, that I never doubted for one second that you're innocent in all this? We are going to find a way to show Lauren that you're not guilty of Lazarey's murder. And we're going to start right here." He took a tissue from his pocket and handed it to her. Sydney smiled gratefully at him as she dried her tears, understanding that the simple gesture was the first step for them both to start thinking more positively.
The trunk of Vaughn's car was cramped and stuffy, but Sydney was grateful for what he was doing for her, the risks he was taking to keep her safe. She struggled to change her clothes in the tiny space and soon she heard Vaughn's reassuring voice in her ear.
"Are you alright?" he asked concernedly.
"You didn't think about it? Not once? The possibility that Rambaldi could be right about me," she replied, while changing out of her top and replacing it with a blue velvet one that matched her trousers to make up one hideous, but disguising nonetheless, outfit. It was not meant as an answer to his question, but as something that she needed to know. She was still wondering why he was going to such lengths for her, wanting to believe that it was because of what she meant to him but not quite sure that to believe that would not be kidding herself. This was her way of testing him, finding out just how blindly devoted to her he really was. He passed the test with flying colours.
"No, I didn't," he said, a little surprised that she thought he would ever believe something like that about her. It just went to show that, on the inside, Sydney Bristow was really quite insecure.
"Why not?" she questioned softly, wishing that his answer would confirm the hopes that had recently filled most of her daydreams, and a fair few of her actual sleeping dreams too.
He thought for a second before replying, trying to figure out how to word his feelings. In the end he went for the reply that was perhaps the most simple, yet at the same time was the one that encapsulated everything he had ever felt about Sydney. "Because I believe in you." She breathed a tiny sigh of relief, and allowed herself a small smile. He paused for the effect of his words to completely sink in, and to separate his comment from the one that followed. "Did you think I'd just throw anyone in my trunk?" Sydney laughed then, amazed that even in the worst of situations, he could still lift her spirits and make her laugh. Though she was immensely glad for the way he could brighten her mood, she could not help shaking her head slightly at his ability to make jokes even when they were in serious trouble. She hoped this was a side of him she would get to see a lot more of in the future.
Vaughn grinned at Sydney, aware that they were both remembering a certain car ride, and she grinned back at him, dimples dancing in her cheeks the way they had done that day. He turned to the crate behind him and picked up a box that Sydney had not noticed sitting there when she came in.
"It's not much, I know, but it's a start," he said, holding the box out to her. She took it from him and rifled quickly through its contents; stacks of papers and files with "CLASSIFIED" printed across the front of them.
"Where did you get all this?" she gasped.
"I took it from Dixon's office when he was at lunch." Sydney stared at him aghast for a moment, and then broke into giggles at the thought of Vaughn breaking into the CIA Director's office. "Well, I'm glad you can see the funny side of this," he smirked. "Because I'm going to be in a lot of trouble when Dixon finds out."
"Dixon will understand" Sydney told him softly. "Thank you." They were silent for a few seconds, neither one willing to allow reality to crash into their peaceful moment.
"Well, uh, I guess we'd better get started." Vaughn finally broke the peace, tearing his eyes away from Sydney's and taking the box from her hands to put it back on the table. "Pull up a chair," he said with a smile.
Together they went through file after file, sifting through every sentence in a desperate attempt to find something the CIA had missed, anything that might indicate Sydney did not kill Lazarey. After a while Sydney looked up.
"Hey Vaughn, do you actually have a plan?"
"Nope," he smiled, half apologetically, half jokingly. "I just figured we'd go through anything and everything we could get out hands on."
"Well, it's sure as hell better than my plan," he gave her a questioning look and she explained "do nothing and wait to get caught."
He smiled, and then revealed the true depth of the thought he had given to helping her. "Actually, I do have a better plan than just reading."
"Oh?" she looked up eagerly and pleasantly surprised that there might still be hope.
"I have a contact in Russia. I spoke to his wife earlier and she said he's out of the country on business, but he'll be back tomorrow. I think he might just be able to help us."
"Good," she smiled.
"Well, it's worth a try, anyway," he said modestly, shrugging, as if he hadn't really helped at all.
"Don't put yourself down like that," she replied emphatically. "I'm so grateful to you for helping me like this."
"I only hope I can help," he sighed. "You were always better than me in the ideas department."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," she replied with a secretive smile, which rapidly became a dimpled grin as he continued to look at her with curiosity. "You set that back door into SD-6's computer system thing in motion."
"That was kind of genius, wasn't it?" he grinned, enjoying their playful conversation.
"You bet it was," she grinned back.
"Vaughn, we're in."
Vaughn bent to look at the computer screen over the agent's shoulder.
"What's this?" demanded Sydney, confused and slightly annoyed that she obviously wasn't being kept in the loop.
"This is the main reason we made the switch in Berlin." Vaughn filled her in without taking his eyes off the screen, a fact that only infuriated Sydney further.
"We had Kelvin give Sloane access to a bogus website with just enough real information about the vaccine to keep them occupied for months." The agent at the computer elaborated on Vaughn's somewhat sketchy and completely unsatisfying explanation.
"Is that really worth risking a man's life?" Sydney asked, raising her eyebrows at the idea that they would really do something like this.
"Uh, no there's more," Weiss interjected, defending his friend's plan, since Vaughn showed no signs of defending it himself. "Once SD-6 downloads and runs the bogus program it'll give us a back door into their computer systems."
"In other words, we have access to their entire network?" Sydney asked slowly, her heartbeat speeding up at this huge leap forward they had suddenly taken. "Files, contacts, accounts?" she continued as the full impact began to sink in.
"This is a huge step in shutting down SD-6," Vaughn confirmed, inwardly glowing that Sydney was impressed, even though she didn't know it had been his idea.
"Nice," she said, and Vaughn noticed how beautiful she looked when she was happy; something he did not get to see very often.
"It was Agent Vaughn's idea," said the other agent, and Vaughn felt that he was halfway between punching him for announcing this to Sydney, a move he felt sure was done only to see if it provoked any reaction – they had not been working together for long, but already the rumours about Vaughn and Sydney were shooting from wall to wall of the CIA offices – and hugging him for ensuring that Sydney found out who she had to thank for this new development but without being told by him personally, thus avoiding any chance of her thinking that he had only done it to impress her.
Sydney's breath caught slightly in her throat when she heard this, and she looked up at Vaughn slightly in awe of her handler who she had previously considered incompetent.
"You look so surprised," he teased her.
"No, I just –," Taking him seriously, she tried to backtrack.
"Yes, it was my idea," he continued, not really offended but trying to get her to react.
"Amazing idea," she told him with a genuine smile.
"Thank you. I know," he joked, and gained his second victory of the day by making her laugh. Still grinning, he turned back to the computer to stop himself from gazing at Sydney like a lovesick idiot while Weiss was in the same room. That, he felt sure, would be something he would never live down.
They shared a laugh over the memory, and then looked back down at their work, though it did not last for long.
"Hey Syd?"
"Yeah?"
"I think that was just about the first nice thing you said to me."
"It was not!" she retorted indignantly, before she saw the teasing look on his face and laughed. "It was right at the beginning of our friendship, though," she said contemplatively.
"Yeah, it was," he murmured. "I never thought, back then, that I would ever feel like I could talk to you about anything."
"I did," Sydney stated. "I knew ever since that night at the pier that no matter what, you would always listen to me. Even though I haven't shown that lately, I never forgot it."
"It just shows that, even all that time ago, you knew yourself a lot better than I knew myself," he continued, and she put her pen down and clasped her hands together on the table focusing her gaze keenly on his eyes, sensing that he needed her full attention. "I mean, I knew then that I would always be there for you, and that I'd listen to anything you had to say, no matter how trivial, but I didn't think for one moment that maybe I needed you just as much as you needed me."
Sydney smiled understandingly at him, and a comfortable silence descended over the warehouse as they both returned to wading through the files. When they had read through everything at least twice and done all they could do with the information, which was not much, they put the files back into the box and stood up to leave.
"Sydney…" Vaughn started. She stopped with one arm in her jacket and the other one out, and looked at him inquiringly. "I still wish you'd told me about this before."
"I know," she said quietly. "I wish I'd told you as well. The past few weeks have been hell without someone to talk to about it. I could have talked to my father, but I never felt right telling him what I was going through. I came close to telling you so many times, just so I could have someone to talk to about it, but then I'd just tell myself how selfish that would be. That was wrong of me. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I understand why you did it, and I don't blame you for it – you were trying to protect me. I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same. I fact, I know I would have. Just, next time…talk to me, okay?"
"Well, I wasn't planning on there being a next time," she joked, but then grew serious. "Of course I'll tell you, Vaughn," she promised in a breaking voice.
Vaughn took a deep breath, willing himself to get through the next few minutes of his life without making a gigantic fool out of himself.
"Listen," he began, "as far as your mother's concerned, it's ridiculous for you to worry about me. I'm fine. What she did to my father, I can handle. But when I heard what your father did, coming to see you like that, I…I realised how insane this must be for him…having your mother back in his life." Sydney watched him, wondering where he was going with his and why she could sense that he was nervous about saying this to her. He took another deep breath and sighed before continuing, his shoulders jumping up and down, giving away his tension and anxiety. "Which only concerned me because that means he's not making it any easier for you. So, before you leave for Moscow," he said, his voice dropping almost to a whisper. He swallowed nervously before carrying on again, "I just wanted to say that you might feel alone in all this, like you don't have an ally. I'm your ally. Never question that."
Sydney nodded, her eyes filling with tears at his heartfelt speech. They were interrupted then, by an agent telling her that her plane was standing by, and Sydney wasn't sure whether she was grateful to him for stopping what she suspected might have ended with them crossing a line that must not be crossed, or angry at him for just that reason. Vaughn smiled at her.
"I'll see you when I get back," she told him solemnly, and then smiled softly at him, telling him without speaking how much his words had meant to her.
"You're my ally," she said, as the tears began to fall. "And I'll never, ever question that." She shook her head as she spoke to emphasise the strength of what she said, and he knew that she meant it. "Our friendship means so much to me, Vaughn, just as much as...," she sighed, unable to finish her sentence. "I love you in more ways than just one," she eventually said by way of explanation, dancing around what she had been going to say before but had felt that it was still too painful to voice.
Vaughn did not need to hear the words to know what she meant, because he felt the same way. "I know, Syd," he said affectionately. "You're my closest friend…don't let me ever lose sight of that, okay?"
"I won't," Sydney smiled, understanding what that meant – that no matter how much their relationship as friends was threatened, she mustn't let it come to any harm. Suddenly she fully processed what he had said and grinned wickedly. "I also won't tell Weiss that I've bumped him down to second."
He laughed, and pushed her towards the door, grabbing the box as he went. "Good idea. There's no telling what he might do to get back to Number One."
