That Old Feeling (part 3/?)
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.
It was a Thursday night and Eric Weiss felt very alone. Maybe it was the thought that Sydney had almost died on her mission in Afghanistan. Maybe it was the fact that this was the first "Pizza Night" she was going to miss in months. Maybe it was just a passing sensation of isolation, he couldn't quite tell. Still, he found himself in the kitchen, preparing for everything just as he did every other Thursday night. Drinking his pre-dinner Shiner, cleaning up as he went along, wearing his "Kiss the Cook" apron which never seemed to bring much of a response, even when he wasn't alone.
The dough had been prepared, and the sauce and extras added, and Weiss was about to put it in the oven when he realized that he had put all of Syd's favorite toppings on instead of his own. He would have almost found it amusing, if it hadn't been for the lingering feeling of uneasiness at how deeply she had already entrenched herself in his life and into his consciousness. He didn't change it, though.
After putting the pizza in to bake, he wandered back through the living room to straighten up the stray newspapers and coffee cups he'd allowed to accrue over the week with no one around to be impressed or disgusted by the state of cleanliness. It was on his way back to the kitchen that he saw the flash of headlights on the street, and his curiosity beckoned him to the windows flanking his front door. He moved the curtain aside to see the non-descript coupe pull into his neighbor's driveway. Despite all the worrying and the grief, Sydney was home again safely from another mission.
She was out of the car and waving Vaughn on his way after just a few seconds and Weiss raised his eyebrows in a faint sense of surprise. He retreated back to the kitchen to check on the pizza and discard his beer bottle before popping open a cold one. He was just finishing up when the doorbell rang, and even though he knew who it was, it gave him a little chill to know she had come right over. When he opened the door, she practically vaulted into his arms.
"Hey, you gave us quite a scare," Weiss admitted with a small laugh of relief, holding her close. "I thought they would hold you in interrogation forever, I was going to eat without you."
"But it's Pizza Night!" Sydney protested, pulling out of the embrace. "You know I never miss Pizza Night."
"Yes, but it's the Pizza Night after you almost died," Weiss reminded her, rolling his eyes.
"It's still Pizza Night," she insisted with a wink, brushing her lips across his cheek before dancing away.
"Vaughn didn't stay long," Weiss observed nonchalantly.
"As I said, it's Pizza Night. No time for delays," she bent over and opened the door to the oven and took a huge, apparently satisfying whiff before letting it clang closed. She had managed to stop off at her own house to change into capri pants and a ribbed top, which hugged her breasts in the most captivating way. Weiss couldn't stop staring as she helped herself to a beer.
"So I wasn't sure which one you would want," Sydney's voice brought Weiss back to the present moment.
"Huh?"
"The movie," Sydney held up the plastic bag with Vulcan Video printed in bright letters on the plastic. "I couldn't remember which one we'd agreed on, so I brought them both." She pulled them out of the bag and looked at each before displaying them for him. "Labyrinth and the Dark Crystal."
"When did you have time to rent movies?" he laughed as he took one of the cassettes into his hand.
"On the way home, I made Vaughn stop."
Weiss laughed again, "Stopping to rent movies, rushing home for Pizza Night—he's going to be hurt that we didn't invite him."
Sydney didn't share the moment of amusement. "Vaughn has his own family now. You, Pizza Night...that's mine," she replied selfishly.
Weiss' heart, for reasons he couldn't explain, soared.
"How about Labyrinth?" He cleared his throat. "Hot rock stars in skintight pants and what could go wrong?"
Sydney just smiled.
They argued all the way to the video store: Weiss wanted an action movie to give his surround sound a run for it's money, and Sydney wanted a comedy, to take her mind of the drama of her life, she proposed. It was a fruitless argument, really, Weiss knew in the end he would give in to Sydney's whims.
In the spirit of compromise, she was trying to wrack her brain for funny action movies and was coming up short.
"We could rent something like Spiderman..." she suggested gaily.
"Superhero movies, Syd? They're so dumb," Weiss insisted, pulling into the parking lot of the shopping center. "They're like spy movies, they get it all wrong."
"Okay, well...hmmm...Jackie Chan thinks he's funny now, right?"
"In theory..."
"Ooh! We could go for a classic! What about The Princess Bride?"
"Too girlie," Weiss rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
"Okay," she mused a moment, staring out of the window as if the dull view of the car park would inspire her somehow. "I can't think of anything! Let's just rent something funny," she insisted finally, exasperated.
"The only genius I know is giving up? We're renting a movie, not performing brain surgery."
"I've been dead for two years, you know," she reminded him almost-cheerfully. "And I wasn't exactly Gene Siskel before that, either."
Weiss found a parking space and began to steer in what he lovingly called "the old boat." He held the door of the video store open for Sydney, and then wrapped his arm around her shoulders companionably as they perused the racks.
"Hey, we could rent Scream!" Weiss picked up the box on the way down the Horror aisle. "It's funny."
Sydney wrinkled her nose and shook her head, "nothing bloody." They continued on, bypassing Science Fiction, as well as all the rows of Drama with silent, mutual agreement. Weiss sighed begrudgingly when they reached the Comedy aisle and began to search the A's.
"Adventures in Babysitting!" Sydney's delight was almost incandescent. "I used to love this movie."
Weiss cringed. "You and the rest of the free world. But you didn't have a sister that would make you watch it over and over."
"Fine," she conceded, putting it back and sighing.
"Hey, what about Chasing Amy?" Weiss offered, picking it up.
"Not a Kevin Smith fan, and I despise Ben Affleck," Sydney didn't even look up from the box she was reading.
Various comments and suggestions could be heard from other rows: "Guinevere?" or "Legally Blonde!" or "Pirates of the Caribbean?" followed by groans of protest or resistance from one or the other of the two friends.
"Can I help you?" A psychotically peppy voice cried out from behind them, giving Weiss a good scare. He dropped his arm and casually moved on, trying to catch his breath, and leaving Sydney to handle the clerk.
"We can't find a movie...or agree on one is a better word," Sydney shot a dark look at Weiss, who shrugged innocently.
Awww, lovebirds," the girl put a hand to her breast and sighed happily. "I have just the ticket!" Weiss rolled his eyes behind her back, but Sydney smiled beatifically. "You can't resist!" she sang out as she jogged off in search of her prize.
"Hemlock?" Weiss asked under his breath as Sydney sidled up to him. She elbowed him sharply as the salesgirl returned.
"Ocean's Eleven," Sydney read aloud, smiling, raising an eyebrow at Weiss.
"I could go for that," he acquiesced after a moment's thought
"Perfect," Sydney took Weiss' arm. "Thank you, Colleen."
"'Welcome!" Colleen frolicked off to go harass someone else, and Weiss took their choice to the front counter to check out.
"She thought we were a couple," Sydney couldn't help but point out as they approached the register, keeping her voice low.
"Mmmm Hmmm," Weiss murmured, pretending to be distracted by a display of magazines and action figures.
"She thinks we look good together," she prodded.
"Your card, sir," the clerk held out his hand. Weiss produced it and watched him ring up their purchases.
"You don't think so?" Sydney whispered lightly, tantalizingly.
"Due back Tuesday," the clerk handed them the receipt and the film and Weiss pushed open the door to let Sydney exit first. She stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and waited for him to join her. She was eyeing him as if he were completely naked.
"Are you always this single-minded?" Weiss asked, in mock-aggravation.
"I prefer, 'determined,' and yes," she grinned, and he ruffled her hair playfully.
"Well, I prefer 'deranged,'" he chortled, and as the moment turned serious, so did he. "Let's go home," he suggested gruffly, but not before kissing her soundly, long and hard.
Weiss leaned up against the doors to the safe house and let out a long, relieved sigh.
"Everyone okay?" he panted, looking first at Sydney, and then at Agent Morris, both of whom he had just proceeded to herd through the door like cattle. "Was anyone shot?"
Sydney and Morris both shook their heads in wide-eyed surprise. It wasn't very often that either one of them got to see Weiss take charge in a tense situation. After they'd caught their breath, Sydney began to look around curiously. She'd never been to the Prague safe house before, but she knew the surrounding area and streets like she knew the back of her own hand. She was given maps to study and memorize, a contingency plan for most any mission. Usually if a mission was bungled or compromised, the best solution was to lay low for a night, a couple of days, before slipping away.
This safe house was little more than a shack, with a small kitchen area and a couch squeezed in, a back porch and a bathroom just off of the kitchenette. There was a single door that Sydney presumed led back to a bedroom. There was running water, but no electricity and only a small fireplace. Out of the porch, there were several army regulation cots set out, and more stacked against the wall.
Sydney and Weiss both had looked for this to be a very simple mission in the heart of Romania...they were just meeting one of her mother's contacts to try to arrange a trade for a Rambaldi document. Dixon was hoping said item would give them some clue as to what was next for Irina Derevko.
But they had been made as soon as they walked through the door and the operative's numerous and enthusiastically armed bodyguards had done an excellent job of sending them running, tails between their legs. Sydney wondered, fleetingly, ironically, how many missions she would have to botch before the CIA fired her. She was 0 for 2 on successful missions lately, which wasn't like her at all. She wondered if this whole mess with Weiss meant she was slipping. Or maybe it was because of the whole mess with Weiss...
Across the room, the object of her ruminations was rummaging through the refrigerator, undoubtedly looking for a beer. With little luck, apparently, he slammed the door shut in frustration.
"I'm beat," Morris announced. He consulted his watch, "we have nine hours until extraction, I'm going to get some shut-eye." He let himself out onto the rear porch and Sydney watched him strike a match, then light a cigarette.
Sydney turned to Weiss almost guiltily, "we should probably get some sleep too."
Weiss let out a long sigh. "I wish we could get drunk."
"When we're home, and safe, I won't say no," Syd grinned and stepped towards the bedroom door.
"I'm going to crash on the couch, here," Weiss advised his voice threading through some of the nervousness he felt, and both partners looked over to what was a cross between an armchair and a loveseat dubiously.
"Weiss, that's ridiculous, there's no way you're going to be able to sleep in that thing."
Through the dim doorway of the bedroom, she could see a stark room with nothing but a single, hard-backed chair and a double bed.
"You take the bed, since you're taller, and I'll take the sofa," Sydney offered.
"Now what kind of man would that make me? To let you take the chair while I cozied up in the bed?"
"We could share it," Sydney suggested coyly, her eyebrow raised. "I doubt Morris will want to tag-team the both of us, especially since he'll probably have to smoke every 20 minutes until we're extracted."
"Sydney Bristow, I'm scandalized. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Weiss realized his blunder the second it was out of his mouth. "Oh, Syd, I'm sorry."
"Don't be, it was funny," Syd jostled his shoulder, then sent him a knowing look. "Come share the bed with me. I promise not to try anything funny." She held up four fingers in a bizarre gesture that Weiss could only assume was some mockery of the Girl Scout salute.
"You were never a Scout," Weiss threw an arm over her shoulder as they headed for the back room, gently tousling her hair. "You have saboteur written all over you."
Sydney just laughed as she shut the door behind them.
Weiss awoke abruptly, his breathing coming fast. It was another bad dream; only this time, Irina had shot Sydney before sustaining a fatal bullet wound herself. They were coming more frequently these days; the closer he got to Sydney. Weiss let out a long, relieved sigh once his heart slowed it's frantic beat, and a soft answering exhalation from beside him let him know she was awake as well.
"Sorry," Weiss muttered.
"S'okay, I was awake," Sydney whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. You snore," she informed him matter-of-factly.
"Yeah, I know," Weiss rolled onto his back, and folded his arms beneath his head. "At home I sleep with a respirator at night, for the apnea."
"Reallllly?" Sydney rolled towards him, intrigued.
"Yeah, I've had it since I was fifteen. I almost died one night, not being able to breathe. My brother just happened to be up getting some water, and he heard me choking. My dad was home, thankfully, and they rushed me to the hospital," Weiss explained.
"I didn't know you had a brother," Sydney said softly.
"Two brothers, and four sisters," Weiss smiled warmly, reflectively. "My oldest brother, Timothy, he slept in the room with me, and he's the one that saved my life. And he never lets me forget it, believe me," he explained.
"What about the rest of your family?"
"Well, my older brother Mark was in a room down the hall because he couldn't sleep through the snoring, so we're not very close, not even now."
"What do they do?"
"Let's see...Mark is an investment banker, he lives in San Diego, and Tim lives in LA, he meets me and Mike sometimes for hockey, or at the bar. He's a great guy, I think you'd love him. He's a total hippie, has his own book store, downtown...and he's in a band," Weiss admitted the last, almost sheepishly.
"He's in a band?" Sydney laughed softly.
"Hey, I was their drummer in college," Weiss defended.
Sydney snorted in quiet laughter, then asked, "what about your sisters?"
"What's gotten you so curious about my family all of the sudden?" Weiss asked, a little suspiciously.
"No reason. You know, I don't have any siblings, are close cousins. I think this is interesting," she prodded his belly, compelling him to continue.
"Well, Isabelle is older than me, between Tim and Mark, and she lives San Francisco with her wife and their two kids, and she teaches school."
"She teaches school, and can afford to live in San Francisco?" Sydney asked incredulously.
"Well, her wife works for some computer company, and makes about $1000 per breath, so they're really lucky," Weiss explained, shifting in the bed to roll over and face her also. "The kids are fantastic, I just love them. I would have a dozen, if they could be like Belle's kids."
"Go on," Sydney encouraged, her voice still soft and wistful.
"Okay, Lanie lives in Baltimore, and she and her husband Rob and both librarians at the Christian College there, they really love that. Cassandra lives in Metarie, Louisiana, and is an architect for the city. They both are younger than me, but Lanie only by 18 months, and Cassandra by 3 years. My mom always calls us her "boom-boom" children, which just sounds dirty now."
"'Boom-boom?'" Sydney asked, her brows raised, seeking clarification.
"Oh, because we came along...boom, boom, boom," Weiss snapped his fingers with each "boom" for emphasis.
"Okay, one left," Sydney reminded him.
"Yes, Adelle is my youngest sister, and she is still in school. She came very late in life to my parents, a very surprising little addition to the family. She just turned sixteen, but she's my babe," Weiss explained fondly.
"Where do your parents live?" Sydney asked, tracing an inquisitive finger along her companion's shoulder blade.
"In L.A...but they keep threatening to move to some little fishing village on the coast. I think they are waiting for Dell to graduate," he filled in.
"They sound great," Sydney admitted, a little enviously.
"They keep bugging me to have you over for lunch one Sunday," he confessed.
"Weiss!" Sydney chastised. "What will they think about me? That I just don't want to meet them?"
"No, no...they know I haven't asked you yet. I make a lot of excuses," Weiss told her honestly.
"What do you tell them?" her brow quirked curiously.
"Spies don't eat," he deadpanned.
"Seriously, Weiss."
"I've told them that I don't want to pressure you, which I don't."
"I'm not going to break," Sydney pointed out. "You don't have to protect me...try to wrap me in cotton. My father does that, it drives me insane," she rolled over onto her back.
"Listen, I'm not trying to shelter you. And I'm not trying to patronize you, I'm just saying the minute you walk through the front door, you're going to be in their cross-hairs. They'll quiz you about why we aren't dating, when we're going to start dating, if we're going to get married. And you know what? Dell will be the worse. She may be my babe, but she's my firewall. She'll interrogate you harder than Sloane or SD-6 ever thought about."
"She's that good, huh? Maybe we could recruit her," Sydney smiled, her ire forgotten.
"No way...in hell," Weiss replied swiftly. "As far as the Delly Belly is concerned, I work at the state department in a boring municipal job, and that's the way it stays. At least until she's forty."
"I understand," Sydney responded softly. "My father...he objected to my recruitment that adamantly. Sloane did it anyway," she tacked on wryly.
"Don't get me wrong, Dell would love this job. She's a crack shot, she loves spy movies and video games and books. She speaks German, she's learning Russian, and she's a math whiz. But it's just way too dangerous, and I won't ever risk her life like that."
"What about your parents?"
"Dave and Martha, been married forty two years, now they're both retired, so he bowls, and she plays Bunco."
"I meant, do they know?" Sydney asked, grinning. "I love how you've reduced your family down to characteristics and ridiculous nicknames, by the way."
"You like that, do you? Ahh, they know I work for the CIA, but I think they imagine my job as very desk-oriented, an analyst, or a tech support. They don't know I'm deep cover, nor will they ever know. I would like them to make it a few more years, at least."
Sydney shivered under the thin blanket, then tentatively shifted closer to Weiss, nestling her head onto his shoulder. His right arm reached instinctively, and he wrapped it around her protectively. Even though she felt safe, it still took a long time for her to get back to sleep.
"Do you love me?"
"You're asking me that now, after everything?"
"You've never said the words."
Vaughn met her gaze unflinchingly. "I love you. I've loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I will always love you, no matter who I marry and no matter how many times I bury you. I will never doubt again."
Sydney woke in a cold sweat, her heart aching with the memory of her love. She sat up in bed, restless, tired of being alone. She felt like she could crawl out of her own skin, get away from her own body. She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, rubbing her face with one hand.
It wasn't just as simple as loving Weiss; she'd known that. There was pain, and regret, and heartache to work through. It just didn't seem fair that she had to work through it alone. Where was Will, to hold her, and comfort her? Where was Francie, to talk her through the worst of it, to have ice cream binges, and cry together? Where was the loving mother she'd always dreamed of having, to nurture and care for her the way only a mother could?
Sydney rose stealthily from the bed and found her terrycloth robe in the pitch black by way of touch. She covered her cotton nightgown and let herself out the back door. The grass was soft and damp with dew against her bare feet. The wind chime on the back porch sang idly.
She knew Weiss always kept his windows open at night—especially in the spring. She crawled over the sill, his curtains gently tickling her face in the midnight breeze.
Weiss was snoring loudly, much in the way she imagined a hibernating bear slept. He awoke, alert, when her weight depressed the empty side of the bed.
"It's me," she whispered.
"Are you alright? Are you hurt?" he asked, panicked, but equally sleepy.
"Nightmare," she crawled in next to him and cuddled her head on his shoulder, snuggling underneath his arm. "I'll just stay a few minutes," she promised.
But she and Weiss were both asleep without another thought.
Sydney awoke slowly, basking in the warm glow of sunshine coming in through the bedroom window. She sighed dreamily, and shifted, feeling her legs intimately entangled with Weiss'. She'd never been able to sleep that closely with anyone before, especially considering the trust issues she had. She supposed she was growing up, maturing, finally hearing the call of matrimonial instinct. Weiss stirred also, stopping abruptly when he felt Syd's body so close to his own, her hair fanned across his shoulder and her head pillowed against his firm pectoral muscles. She moaned against his skin, still lost in sleep, her lips barely brushing the flesh there. Weiss felt himself grow even harder.
Sydney's nightgown wasn't helping the situation, though it was the very epitome of decency. High-necked and even a little frilly, it easily came down to her ankles. But there was something about its very propriety that made it so enticing. Half of the LA field office had seen her half-naked on various occasions—in costume on missions, and knowing what was under that prim white cotton was an alluring part of the fantasy.
But it was more than that, even. It was the wholesomeness of the garment that Weiss loved most. It was a symbol that Sydney wasn't cut out to be a devious, conniving spy. Maybe she was meant to be something all together more motherly.
Weiss shook himself out of that train of thought immediately. If anyone was going to make Sydney Bristow into a mother, it certainly wasn't going to be him. He looked down to see her staring back at him, awake now, her big doe-eyes wide with surprise at his current condition.
"Syd," he said gruffly, beginning to pull away.
"No, don't," she pleaded, a little shyly. He relaxed, a little, enough for her to release him and prop herself up to look at him. She took careful inventory of his room, his face, his body, his bed. Maybe it didn't matter so much that she didn't have Francie, or Will, or her mother. It starting to matter less and less everyday that she didn't have Vaughn. In many ways, Weiss was filling the void in her heart that her friends had left behind. Sure, Will would be back, someday, and she might even reconcile with her mother, eventually. Even friendship with Vaughn and Lauren seemed less daunting with every day that passed.
It was hard to know if Weiss was the cause, the solution, or if it was just her own selfishness receding. Whatever the reason, it didn't hurt quite so much as it used to, and that's all Sydney could bring herself to care about.
To be continued...