That Old Feeling (part 2/?)
By: Saskia Mitchell
Rating: PG, for now.
Notes: This is more a series of vignettes strung together than anything else. Thanks for reading, hope you like. This is post-Crossings, but Lauren isn't evil because I choose not to believe that JJ had any part in making his own show suck this season.
Weiss wanted to kick himself. Beautiful, brainy Sydney Bristow had given him the kiss to end all kisses, and he had backed out with both hands up. Not just backed out, but rejected her in the process. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it, because he had. Prodigious amounts of time were spent imaging what her breasts looked like under her prim silk shells and wool blazers. He had many times fantasized about running his hands up her calves to her hips and waist, feeling the softness of skin, the warmth her body provided. Hell, every guy in the Ops Center wanted to fuck her, and most didn't make any secret of the fact. But Weiss did.
Sydney Bristow was more than just his best friend's girl; she was the cheerleader fantasy that all the guys wanted but never got. And certainly not guys like Weiss. She was sexy but didn't flaunt it; was beautiful but act like it; and she was smarter than most everyone Weiss had ever met before in his life. He was intrigued by her, to be sure, but he had also been very very careful not to fall for her. Like a black magic woman, she was nothing but trouble. As long as he kept her in the "sister and friends" category, he felt safe.
And she'd blown it all with one very impulsive, very ill-timed kiss. Weiss, being no kind of a suave ladies man, had decided to let this whole thing blow over while pretending only casual interest in the matter. Which is why, when he had run into her in the hall outside the Ops Center that morning and she opened her mouth to speak, he had hastily interrupted.
"It's already forgotten, Syd," he nodded earnestly. She didn't answer, didn't narrow her eyes, and she berate him for his audacity, so he considered all of those very good signs. But she hadn't spoken to him since, either, and he wasn't sure what to make of that. Lunch around the conference table was frosty, even though the debrief was hot. Vaughn and Marshall were headed to TaiPei to break into a computer lab that was the hotbed of Russian espionage at the moment, one that had alleged ties to Irina Derevko. Lauren was in the midst of her internal investigations, always casting a suspicious eye towards Sydney that Weiss couldn't help but notice. Jack was working with Dixon on a plan to extract a defector of the French secret police, and Weiss could see that no one in the room believed that was all that they were planning. Weiss had his own assignment with a team, standard surveillance of a Covenant meeting in Wales, with instructions to intercept certain documents should they change hands to a Cuban nationalist rumored to be on the guest list. And for the first time that Weiss could remember, Sydney didn't have her own mission. He could see she was a bit taken aback, but she covered it nicely by feigning relief.
"I have about a million reports to finish," she smiled charmingly. Weiss told himself as the meeting concluded that he'd done the right thing, by pushing her away. She was fragile, and confused, and would probably thank him later for not taking advantage of her lonely heart. The rest of the team disbursed, laughing and talking as they stood, pushing in their chairs and walking towards the doors. Sydney brushed past him for the exit, and Weiss didn't have to think about whether or not to roughly grab her arm, the way Vaughn would have done once upon a time, because he knew he would never have the courage to do it. Marshall noticed the slight, as did Jack, but thankfully neither of them said anything to draw attention to the matter. Weiss knew that undoubtedly Marshall would corner him later and stutter out his observations, but Weiss would just as soon avoid that conversation for now.
He managed to dodge his colleagues for the rest of the afternoon, and slipped out early on pretenses to pack for his flight. In truth, he'd known about the mission for several days and had been prepared, but he wanted time to himself. It was selfish, sure, but it was also rare that he took anything for himself, even vacation time, so he couldn't feel guilty. Sitting on his couch, still in his suit and tie, he couldn't stop thinking about Sydney. Why would she have kissed him? It wasn't like Weiss was oblivious to the situation, or blind to her feelings to Vaughn. Did she really think he would be the rebound guy? Maybe the problem was simply that she wasn't thinking.
A knock at the door startled him, and he checked the clock. Five o'clock, and only another hour until he had to leave to catch his flight. Weiss stopped in the foyer to make sure his fly was zipped (discretion is the better part of valor), then opened the door to find Sydney Bristow standing on his front step.
Her eyes were brimming with tears, and she looked so lost and sad that Weiss couldn't help but envelop her in a hug. She clung to his broad shoulders, her tears soaking into his dress shirt, her mascara staining the shoulder.
"I'm sorry," was all she could manage to say. Weiss carefully brushed her hair back, whispered soothing nonsense comfort words until she calmed, taking deep breaths in an effort to stop crying.
"There's nothing to be sorry about," Weiss held her closer, rubbing her back tenderly with his big hands.
"I'm sorry anyway," she replied, pulling back to look up at him. "I don't want to fight with you. You're one of the only friends I have," her expression was so tragic that Weiss embraced her again, his only wish to take his friend's sorrow and wash it away.
"I already told you, it's forgotten," Weiss told her gently, and then watched her pull herself back out of the comfort of his arms and wipe her tears away.
Their eyes met, and Weiss realized how incredibly close they were still standing, practically toe-to-toe. His traitorous body responded as Sydney's soft breasts brushed against his chest. Her eyes held no trace of the mystery that he usually found there. She wanted him, still.
She snaked her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, curling them against his warm skin. Her taut, lush mouth came towards his slowly, giving him plenty of time to back away. He didn't.
Their mouths met tenderly at first, then with more fire as Sydney moaned and pushed her body closer to Weiss. Her tongue played gently against his barely-parted lips. Breathless, they broke apart. Before Weiss could object, Sydney leaned forward.
"I've been thinking about this for a while, this is not some impulsive move. You're not a replacement for Vaughn, or anyone else, and I'm going to prove it to you." A beautiful pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Weiss knew he was done for.
Despite Sydney's promise to prove to Weiss that she was over Vaughn, she'd been playing it remarkably cool. So cool, in fact, that Weiss hadn't seen her in almost a week. He wondered if she was playing hard to get, but games weren't really Sydney's style. Moreover, he'd been the one to rebuff her...if anyone would be playing hard to get, it would have been him. Regardless, she was leaving in an hour for Afghanistan on a mission, and Weiss doubted he would see her before her flight.
Weiss couldn't deny that Sydney's brazen offer made his body want to stand up and give a twenty-one gun salute. Unfortunately, when one considered beautiful women, it was rarely their beauty that ended up being a problem. Usually it was the jealousy of another man, or a wandering eye, or enough emotional baggage to fill a railway car. And Sydney had one, if not all of those problems, with others to spare. And that wasn't even considering Vaughn...
Even though Vaughn wasn't technically Sydney's handler anymore, Weiss still thought he was a lucky bastard. Vaughn had been more like a partner since he'd been field-rated, and they no longer had to hide their missions from SD-6. Vaughn got to see all the slinky costumes, the ridiculous accents and the daring escapades that Syd found so necessary. Since she didn't have an official partner, it was usually whomever Dixon, and before him, Kendall, felt was most suited for the mission. Given their history, their chemistry...that was usually Vaughn. Sydney only occasionally asked for Weiss specifically, and despite wanting to work with her more often, he thought it best to keep their personal friendship or relationship or whatever it was on the down-low.
So Vaughn got to be her partner, Weiss got Comm and Marshall got Tech. Just another boring day infiltrating the very depths of international espionage for one's country.
The mission to Afghanistan was fairly simple in theory: Sydney and Vaughn were to break in to a Covenant-held warehouse to intercept some Rambaldi document from a Covenant operative to her handler. Extraction in less than five hours, piece of cake. Weiss was stationed in LA, handling communications via satellite, and it was Jack who would be running back-up with a small group of Afghan nationals who were loyal to the CIA.
His mind flashed back to his Comm mission over the Atlantic—when Sydney infiltrated the Alliance aircraft to access Server 47. Even though he knew this mission was less risky, he still felt the ruffling of unease on the back of his neck. He wasn't a superstitious man, and he wouldn't attribute this to some numinous cause, but he felt something in his gut. Danger.
But like all men in his position, how do you explain a hunch?
Vaughn watched Sydney from across the aisle of the plane and marveled at how fucked up life could be. From the very first moment he'd seen her—he still called it the Bozo hair, the swollen jaw, the ridiculous story she told—he knew he loved her. It was obvious from her statement that she loved her friends, she loved her father, she loved Dixon and her country and all she wanted was what was best for national security. Despite tremendous risk, she was brave enough to go back to SD-6, to be a double agent, to fight for truth and freedom. And she couldn't take orders, that was for damn sure...but he loved that, too. He loved the arrogant self-righteousness that she had the first time he'd met her in the Blood Drive Van, he loved her humility and vulnerability the night she called him to the pier to talk about her father.
And over the months that followed, every day meant falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole, becoming so much more of a believer than he'd ever thought he'd be. He could barely remember what he had ever seen in Alice, much less why he was still with her.
Vaughn never was a very good liar, not to himself, anyway. He still loved Sydney. He thought about her constantly, he often found he couldn't look Lauren in the face, for fear his cheeks and ears would burn with shame at his thoughts and feelings. Lauren wasn't funny, or kind, or generous like Sydney. She wasn't as smart, or as quick on her feet. She wasn't as sexy or as beautiful as Sydney, at least in Vaughn's guilty opinion. He did love Lauren, she was intelligent, and they got along very well. But she wasn't Sydney, and she never would be, and that wasn't her fault.
Vaughn didn't want to leave his wife. He'd made a commitment, and he'd built that on love and trust. He didn't want to leave his wife, but he didn't want to be without Sydney, either. A choice had to be made somewhere, a sacrifice taken, and he thought regretfully that he might not know which one was right until it was already too late.
Sydney's comm link switched on and the husky sound of her voice transmitted straight to Weiss' ears. And his groin.
"Mountaineer to Base, do you copy?"
"I've got you loud and clear, Mountaineer," Weiss advised, taking a long sip of his warm coffee.
"Testing, Boy Scout to Base," Vaughn near-shouted.
"Copy that, Boy Scout," Weiss adjusted the volume on his earpiece as he monitored their progress across the rocky terrain.
"We're approaching the compound, anything on the satellite?" Weiss could hear the rustling of grass and brush accompanying Sydney's question.
He swung his chair around to both screens. "Nothing on the satellite and nothing coming through on Infrared," he reported. "You are clear to enter."
"Entering the compound," came Sydney's tense whisper a few minutes later. Weiss heard Vaughn's grunts of exertion and knew it must have been a tight squeeze through the trap door. He was suddenly glad he was in LA at his desk, munching on a doughnut—even if it was cold.
Sydney had memorized the blue prints and electricity grids to the compound on her flight across the Atlantic, neither she nor Vaughn were carrying a video transmitter. Despite having the satellite feed and their heat signatures on Infrared, Weiss was basically in the dark.
Which is why when he heard shots fired, his heart nearly pounded out of his chest. He heard Vaughn's groans, and the sounds of flesh meeting flesh in what sounded like intense hand-to-hand combat. Sydney wasn't making her usual snappy jokes, and Weiss' worry was growing.
"Mountaineer, do you copy? I heard shots fired...Boy Scout, I need confirmation of shots fired, do you read me?...Mountaineer, Boy Scout, somebody better copy me ASAP!" Weiss was sure his voice trembled.
Another punch was thrown and a liquid snort came through over the earpiece.
"Boy Scout, do you copy?"
One last punch and then Vaughn's beleaguered sigh came through. "I copy, Base. We were ambushed. Sydney was shot in the vest, I'm not sure if she's down. I just knocked this guy out, we were separated."
"Copy that, Boy Scout, I'm sending back-up," Weiss rolled his chair down to a different bank of monitor screens and switched his comm link to another frequency.
"Freelancer, this is Base, do you copy?"
"I'm here," was Jack's gruff response.
"Mountaineer and Boy Scout were ambushed, send the team in," Weiss ordered, belatedly wondering if Jack was at all put off by his panic.
Jack didn't say another word. Over the other channel, Weiss could hear Vaughn's harsh breathing, he was obviously running, but Weiss didn't know where or how, considering he didn't have video feed and Vaughn hadn't indicated if he had been hurt in the scuffle or the gunfight. The only direction he had was over the satellite feed.
"Boy Scout, I show you in the southwest corner of the building, Mountaineer is steadily moving north."
"Anyone else on the heat signature?"
"No one," Weiss could hear the slapping of Vaughn's shoes against cement floors. He wondered if Sydney could still hear their conversation, or if her comm link had been taken from her completely.
"How many stories does the warehouse have?"
"Just one, so far as I can tell," Vaughn panted.
"It shouldn't be hard to find her, then," Weiss quipped, amazed that he was keeping his cool. Jack's team of eight red dots appeared on the edge of the radar, and they were moving rapidly towards the compound. Considering the cluster formation and the speed, Weiss determined they were in a vehicle of some kind. "Backup is approaching fast, from the southwest corner, Boy Scout."
"Copy that," Vaughn rasped, then went quiet. Weiss listened carefully as Vaughn effectively went radio silent, switching frequencies to hear Jack's communications. Vaughn continued to move away from the entrance, getting closer and closer to Sydney with each second that passed.
With the benefit of the dark, there was no way of knowing how many were with Sydney, and obviously wearing some sort of anti-thermal fabrics, Weiss was useless in his little lab.
He heard the rapid report of machine gun fire, not knowing where it was coming from or who fired shots. He listened with dry-mouthed horror as the infidels screamed and retreated. At some point, Vaughn found Sydney and revived her, because Weiss heard her liquid cough and then her assertion that she was okay.
Over Syd's comm link, Weiss could hear Jack joining them, and after determining Vaughn really had been shot in the fight, Jack picked Sydney up to carry her back to the truck.
"Backup extraction successful, Base, going Radio Silent," Vaughn switched off his earpiece before Weiss even confirmed he understood the communication. Jack, Sydney, Vaughn and the backup team boarded whatever transportation Jack had managed to commandeer, and they high-tailed it across the plain until they were off satellite radar. Weiss took his earpiece out and nearly threw it across the room. He looked at Marshall across the divided partition.
"I hate working Comm." Marshall just stared.
Jack sat with his daughter for most of the way across the Atlantic, and Sydney could tell by the antsy look on Vaughn's face that he was starting to think he wouldn't get a moment alone with her the entire flight. Jack must have sensed Vaughn's predicament as well, because about the time they crossed over Ohio, Jack almost-begrudgingly made his excuses and escaped to the back of the plane.
Vaughn pretended to read for another ten minutes before moving over and sliding in the seat next to Sydney. She bit back a smile, he was so predictable. With a wave of regret, she remembered in that moment the night she had dinner with Will and Emily at the Sloane's home. Vaughn had told her she was really pretty. Her inner smile faded to a sigh.
"Hi," Vaughn offered, his brow quirked in that charming way that Sydney used to find so adorable, once upon a dream.
"Hey," Sydney's reply was let out with a long breath, she felt about the most exhausted she'd ever felt before in her life.
"I was sitting over there thinking that I almost lost you...again," Vaughn's nimble fingers brushed against his own bandaged arm. The bullet had grazed his arm and left a nasty burn across his bicep.
"It hit the vest. Hurt like hell, but I'll live," Sydney touched her own abdomen reflectively. It could have been a head shot, she knew that. She always knew that one of these times she could really die, but it was easier to let the adrenaline kick in, to count on that instead.
"Sydney, I...I want you to know that..." he huffed in frustration at not being able to say the words they both really wanted—and needed—to hear. He settled for: "I think about you all the time."
"I know you do," Sydney sighed, slightly moving her head to look at his profile, her voice trembling only slightly. "I...do too, I can't help it."
"Maybe we should talk about..."
"No," Sydney interrupted, then turned towards Vaughn; all interest in her brief gone. "Vaughn, you're married. And you're going to stay married. And I don't want to hear anything...that is, I don't want you to say anything that's just going to make this harder for us. We can't be together. It's not fair to Lauren, and I won't be a cheat."
"I never asked you to..." Vaughn started, incensed.
"I know you didn't," Sydney shook her head, her eyes filling with unshed, unshedable tears. "But if we keep doing this, going over it again and again as if we could do something different to change everything, one of us is going to break. And I'm more worried that it's going to be me," her gaze focused on his lapel, the gentle bulge of his Adam's apple, the spicy scent of his aftershave.
"I understand," Vaughn's soft voice was tender; he was always so tender with her.
"I'm trying to move on with my life," she met his gaze and tried not to falter. "I really am."
"Good," Vaughn nodded, swallowing hard. "Good." He stood without another word, and went back to his seat. Jack returned a few minutes later, and Sydney rested her head on his shoulder, glad he was there for her the way he'd never been when she was a child. Because for all the times when she was growing up, between childhood, and adolescence and early adulthood, all the times when she longed for a familiar voice, for a mother, she knew now she never needed her father more than she did right then.
To be continued...