Chapter 6: Someone to Watch Over Me

A/n: Thanks for your reviews! I'm glad your liking this so far. Now for chapter six, one of my faves! Sorry I haven't updated this in a while, I kind of forgot. Hehe? I'll post chapter seven soon. All of those who have wanted more S/V, here it is. Enjoy!

There's a somebody I'm longing to see. I hope that he turns out to be someone who'll watch over me.

– – – – – – –

Rehearsals continued to roll through the month of November at a sluggish pace. Sydney continued to date Desmond Tamas, though as her feelings for him grew so did her suspicions of his involvement with Omega. Among new rumors, though, it was noted that Becca Green often disappeared between scenes and during breaks. Jack and Dixon kept a closer monitor of the recordings from her dressing room, yet found nothing of use.

It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving weekend when Dixon called an emergency meeting for all agents. Sydney was one of the first to arrive in their hidden meeting room, as was Eric Weiss. He sat down next to her, cheeks red and breathing heavily.

"It's snowing," he declared before glancing around the nearly empty room. "We have, like three inches out there already."

"It's not even winter yet."

"Try telling that to mother nature." He slid back in his seat. "So how are things?"

What he really meant, Sydney knew, was how are you and Desmond? She sighed, playing with a lock of her freshly re-dyed hair. "All right, I suppose. What are you doing this weekend?"

She gave him a glare that led him to believe she would not stay on the previous subject. "I'm going to my other apartment because Nicolas is visiting his seven-year-old son. Wait, make that eight-year-old. I forgot, he had a birthday last week."

"Gee, what a great father you are."

"I know."

It took one cough from Dixon to get Weiss to stop talking as others filed into the room. Sydney sat back eagerly waiting for her father to arrive; he was the only one left. Observing the others, she noticed she was the only patient person. Everyone was dying to know what the meeting was called for, yet Dixon refused to begin until everyone was in attendance.

Dixon drummed his fingers against the table, his eyes locked deeply in thought. Sydney could tell exactly what he was thinking; she was sure he wished he made Jack be an actor so he would get out of work faster and into the meeting. She pondered this further. What if Jack were an actor as well? She internally cringed. Jack Bristow; singing and dancing? Never. Dixon must be really desperate for the meeting to start is he was thinking about that.

Though Sydney did have to admit an emergency meeting was rather peculiar. Something major must have finally happened. Sydney had assumed long ago that Dixon's urgency for the actors to push closer to everyone was a result of no new intel. But now, what on earth could be so important?

The door flung open and in walked Jack Bristow, fresh out of his janitor clothes. Sydney faintly smelled the odor of ammonia.

"I apologize for my tardiness," he said as he took the remaining seat.

Dixon shrugged. "We can't punish you for doing your job." He replied rather nonchalantly, but he looked clearly irked for having to wait. Everyone's attention turned to Dixon. "I've just received intel from Los Angeles that indicates that Viktor Yudin is dead." Gasps, comments, and questions arose from nearly everyone, but Dixon held up his hands to silence them. "A team from Chicago found his location, but upon arrival they only found his dead body. It has been confirmed that he was indeed the White Russian. Now it is especially imperative to watch your peers for any suspicious activity due to this news."

Sydney realized that over Thanksgiving, Desmond was visiting his parents, Kerri was going back to New Jersey to be with her family, and Becca was probably who knows where. Any snooping around would have to wait until Monday.

She shook herself. Who cared about the others… Viktor Yudin was dead! The leader of Omega was dead. That was huge intel to receive at this time. With Yudin dead, the organization would crumble and its members would be easy to locate.

Dixon adjourned the meeting despite many questions. The agents filed out in a mild daze from the news. Jack caught Sydney's arm just as she was leaving. "We need to talk," he muttered, pulling her into another empty room.

It was dark inside; Sydney could hardly see his face. "What, Dad?"

He remained silent for a moment, studying her querying face. "I want you to be careful around Desmond from now on…"

"He's gone for the weekend–"

"Sydney, if he is part of Omega, then he could cause you serious harm. Promise me you'll be careful."

"What happened to me during those two years?"

"Promise me!" he demanded.

She paused, slightly confused of his intentions. "I promise."

He stared at her, lips pursed, breathing heavily. "Wait two minutes before you leave." Darting around, he marched out of the room, leaving her alone in the darkness.

And finally, her past circled back to the future. It had something to do with Sydney; it had this whole time. But Jack had been in prison. Did he just assume the worst, or did he actually know something?

These thoughts captured her attention throughout her entire journey home. She was completely torn in thought; had her father truly been warning her or just looking out for her?

She walked through her apartment door, threw of her heavy coat, coat, and gloves, and scurried to the couch. She tossed her shoes across the floor and curled into a ball, wrapping her arms around her knees. There was no one there to comfort her, no one there to hold her as she cried.

All she wanted was Vaughn, Will, Francie, none of which were capable of helping her in any way. Will and Francie were dead, and Vaughn may as well have been. And then a thought occurred to her: this was her first Thanksgiving without Francie and Will; her first Thanksgiving alone.

Tears welled in her eyes and silently began to spill as she stared out the window into the gray sky. It was snowing again; the white trim lined the railing around her balcony porch. She sniffled as she unfurled her legs and edged towards the sliding door, approaching her weak reflection in the glass. She watched as tears trickled down her cheek.

Closing her eyes, she gulped down the pain, and opened her eyes to watch the snow fall to the ground. Her eyes followed one flake at a time; its fluttering forward and back, its swirling in the wind, until it disappeared among the growing accumulation on the ground. Pressing her forehead to the glass, she watched the two people in the park. They were the only two; a mother and young son. She showed him how to make a ball with the snow and roll it along the ground for it to get larger and larger, until there were three balls stacked on top of each other.

She watched as the boy found two sticks and he shoved them into the sides for two lanky arms. His mother cleared away the snow around a tree, returning with several rocks for the eyes, nose, and mouth. Finally, she embraced her son, lifting him up into her arms as they stood back and studied their masterpiece.

Sydney stepped back herself, wiping her eyes with her thumb. A single trail of water dripped down the glass, obstructing the view behind it. She brought her hand forward, and with an upward motion, she wiped away the water, bringing a smile to her lips as she saw the pair making snow angels.

A knock on the door caused her to turn abruptly from the picturesque scene. She used the side of her hand to wipe away any remaining tears and proceeded to squint through the eyepiece. Her mouth half opened upon seeing the figure standing outside her door.

She unlocked it in a rampage, but creaked open the door slowly. "Chris, what are you doing here?" she asked, remembering to use his alias.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

She shook her head and opened the door wider, furrowing her brow as she stepped aside for him. She noticed the distraught expression on his face as he glimpsed around her apartment. "Vaughn?" she asked after closing the door and securing the locks.

"We had a fight."

"Oh." She wanted to ask him what about, yet she couldn't force herself to pry. She remained leaning against the door as he sauntered to her couch. The silence in her head was pounding, and she could not stand it any longer. "What happened?"

He heaved a sigh that sounded like a light chuckle. "I don't know, we've been arguing a lot lately. Over anything, everything. This time it was… you." Sydney's heart skipped a beat. She tip-toed toward the couch, taking a seat on the end, as far away as she could; holding herself back from her need to hold him. "I had to get away."

She stared at his profile, wondering why they were fighting about her. Her brain screamed to know, though her heart kept it at bay. Her heart just wanted to keep him here and not push him away.

Suddenly her knees were nearly touching his, had she subconsciously moved closer? Before she could stop herself, her comforting hand rested on his knee, and his set on top of it. She wanted to start crying again. She felt the pressure behind her eyes and darted them away from him back out the window. They settled on the snowman, the single entity under the darkening sky. She searched for the mother and her son, hoping for their compassion, and eventually found them at the other end of the park, the young boy running towards another person, a man, his father. The woman greeted him with a kiss; the boy pointed excitedly to his snowy creation, and they walked off together as a family.

She returned her gaze back to Vaughn, and found his eyes imploring into hers. Her hand was back on her own knees again, not touching his. Had he even touched her? Had she imagined it all?

She blinked slowly, unsure of how to act under Vaughn's watch. When she opened her eyes again, he was still there, staring at her, searching in her eyes for an answer.

"Why are you dating Desmond?" he asked in a whisper.

I don't know, I don't know! she screamed to herself. "Dixon… asked me to get closer."

"But do you have feelings for him?"

"I…" she started, scared of his questions. She wished he'd stop. She wished Lauren and Desmond didn't exist. She wished to say, "Desmond who?" and kiss Vaughn with all her might. "Stop," she weakly muttered, unable to look at him. She could feel his eyes boring into her; he knew her true answer.

He read her somewhat dissembled self, for on the inside she was crying in a fit of frustration and anger. Her unstoppable tears and shrieks of pain were hidden beneath the façade of shame and embarrassment that he saw.

An indefinite amount of time passed before she felt his convicting glare slip away. Both parties implicitly agreed to watch television; Vaughn must have turned it on when she refused to meet his gaze.

Eventually, she noticed his eyes were closed, and his breathing steady. After turning off the TV, she gingerly removed his shoes and turned him so his feet rested on the couch. Sydney retrieved an extra blanket from her bedroom and draped it over his sleeping form. Bending down on her knees, her hand instinctively tangled in his hair as she bent over to kiss his cheek, but she stopped herself before her lips could touch his skin. Her head hovered his, her hand still entwined in his hair. At last, feeling as if she should be crying, she lowered her head and allowed her lips to caress his soft cheek.

It took all her strength to stand again, turn out the light and leave the room. All she could think about as she changed into her pajamas was sneaking under the blanket and lying with him. But eventually, his face faded from her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

– – – – – – –

"Sydney… Sydney!" Someone was shaking her. Who? Who was in her apartment? Francie? No, no, that was the other apartment, she was in New York now. Vaughn? "Wake up, Sydney," the sweet voice coaxed.

She opened her eyes from the dream, immediately finding another pair above her. About to scream, a hand shot to her mouth to cover it tightly; presumably belonging to the possessor of the eyes. And Vaughn may have been in her apartment, but it was not his hand that covered her mouth nor his eyes that greeted hers.

As Sydney's eyes adjusted to the dark, she recognized the person who stood before her. Slowly the hand pulled away as its possessor decided Sydney wouldn't scream. "What are you doing here?" Sydney sharply whispered.

"I came to warn you," Irina replied. "The White Russian may be dead, but Omega can still survive."

"I'm calling the police," Sydney hissed through her teeth, pulling the covers off her body and rolling to the opposite side of the bed. Irina raced around the foot of the bed to stop her. She pushed her down, back onto the mattress just as she stepped on a squeaky floorboard. Her eyes scanned the door briefly, waiting to hear Vaughn's footsteps, yet she heard nothing.

"I wouldn't do that."

"Oh, but I will," Her cell phone was just across the room on the dresser. If she pushed off from her arms, she could kick her mother out of the way and–

"Sark has escaped from prison. If you don't listen to me then he'll–"

"This is preposterous." I'm dreaming, for sure, she decided. There's no way Sark could escape a high security prison. Why the hell am I dreaming this? "Just think about what you're saying!"

"Sh!"

She lowered her voice. "If Viktor Yudin is dead then Omega's members won't last much longer. Without a leader we'll be able to take them down within weeks."

"I warning you, don't pursue this."

"I'm–"

"Do not pursue Omega."

It very quickly occurred to Sydney that she didn't care that this was a dream. Her mother was frustrating her, and all she wanted to do was kick her away. She pushed off from her arms as planned and swung her leg forward. But Irina was prepared. She grabbed her leg and twisted Sydney's body around. Sydney whimpered as her body slammed against the headboard.

Irina held her daughter's arms behind her back and Sydney struggled against her. She leaned her head into Sydney's ear. "You will do as I say, Sydney."

Sydney opened her mouth, hastily replying with, "Go to Hell," quickly followed by Irina slamming Sydney's head against the headboard with a loud crack, and Sydney drifted into further darkness.

– – – – – – –

Light poured in through the window, aching Sydney's eyes. She rolled aside with a groan. Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to remember everything that happened. Vaughn had shown up at her apartment after a fight with Lauren, and was asleep on her couch. Then, she had a dream that Irina came into her room and warned her not to get involved with Omega.

Had they both been a dream? Sydney flew out of bed and skidded around the corner, relieved to find Vaughn still snuggled under the blanket on the couch. She sighed in content, leaning against the wall as she watched him sleep.

After a moment, she turned and headed back into her room, dressed, and returned to watching Vaughn sleep. She did not know how much longer she could keep this up; watching him. Eventually he would wake up and would have to leave, despite what Sydney wanted him to do. And he might get a little freaked out if he wakes up and sees me watching him, she thought.

She decided to get some breakfast as quietly as she possibly could. She managed to pour some cereal and milk into a bowl without stirring him. She grabbed a spoon and made her way to the table. Staring out the window while she munched, she took pleasure in viewing the snowy park of her backyard.

At least another four inches had fallen overnight, creating a shimmering effect upon the ground, but most likely a nightmare of slush on the busy roads in contrast. She found yesterday's snowman buried under the fresh mounds of flurries, his arms poking up boldly.

Her eyes fell back into her living room, sliding to Vaughn sitting up on the couch. He rubbed his eyes and blinked at the glowing frost outside the glass, a look quickly captivating his face that resembled a young child on Christmas morning. She couldn't help but smile at him.

"'Morning," she greeted him, surprised by the effluence of her words to Vaughn.

"Good morning," he replied. Sydney restrained a grin; it was a "good" morning.

"Help yourself to breakfast," she added, pointing to the kitchen before getting caught in a yawn. She stretched her arms upward as he ravaged the kitchen; she scratched her head. Ouch… Why was there a bruise on the side of her head? She must have actually smashed the headboard when she dreamt her mother had slammed her head into it.

"You okay?" Vaughn asked, returning to the table with a bowl of cereal. His forehead wrinkled at the confused expression on Sydney's face.

She set her spoon down. "Did you hear any strange noises last night?" He shook his head; no. She reassured herself that she must have dreamt it. "I had this strange dream I was fighting with my mother… I guess I was actually fighting my headboard."

He smirked. "Sounds better than my dream about a walrus driving a mini-van."

Sydney joined in with his laughter, and the two were unstoppable for a moment. Once their laughter subsided, Sydney found it easy and natural to be sitting eating breakfast with him, in spite of their truly odd situation.

They quickly found themselves done with their meals. Vaughn stood up. "Well, I probably should… go home…"

"Yeah," Sydney concurred hesitantly. "Lauren's probably worried."

She traced his footsteps slowly to the door, freezing as her hand clutched the knob, yet she refrained from twisting it and opening the door. She looked up into Vaughn's eyes, praying he would not say anything to make her want to detain him forever. "Syd, I think you should know why we were fighting."

"Please–" she attempted to stop him, tearing her eyes away.

"Since it's too conspicuous if you went to Jack's or Dixon's, and since the others are out of town, I thought you'd be alone on Thanksgiving. I kind of thought I'd invite you to join us, but… Lauren and I didn't exactly see eye to eye." She finally looked back to his eyes. His sweet, caring, loving green eyes… "Well, Happy Thanksgiving, anyway."

She opened the door at last, unable to handle his generosity. He slipped out into the hall, nearly around the corner and gone forever. "Chris, wait," she beckoned, hopping a few steps into the hall. "Happy birthday."

He simply smiled gratefully at her before walking to the elevator, glad to avoid the seven inch snow.

– – – – – – –

Monday arrived, much to Sydney's delight and everyone else's dismay. Throughout the long weekend, she had been looking forward to returning to work to see everyone again. Kerri had called her on Friday, apologizing sincerely that she was shopping in New Jersey with her younger sister leaving Sydney all alone. Sydney had wandered the horrendously busy stores on several occasions, though felt in no mood for shopping. She even called Desmond a few times, eager to hear his jokes, yet his rings went unanswered.

Sydney sat in her dressing room that Monday morning skimming through an old magazine when her door burst open unexpectedly. "Happy December!" Kerri shouted gleefully before pouncing onto the couch next to Sydney. "How was your weekend? Please, tell me it didn't suck, tell me it didn't suck."

Sydney shrugged. "It was all right."

"I knew it! It sucked! I knew I should have stayed here and kept you company. I'm so sorry."

"No, no. You should be with your family on Thanksgiving, I'm glad you were."

Kerri tilted her head so it rested on Sydney's shoulder. She slid the magazine onto her own lap and proceeded to flip through. "I'm sorry you couldn't go back to Seattle…"

"Me too," she sighed, thinking about Will and Francie again.

"Well if it helps any, my sister was annoying and my brother was a royal pain in the ass. She thinks because she's a senior in high school, she's all that, and he think he's master of the universe because he's at Yale. Plus. My father is desperate to marry me to a nice Vietnamese boy so I can learn more traditions of my heritage. And mom… She's too busy worshipping my genius brother to pay any attention to what's going on.

"So, you know," she continued, "nothing new happened."

Sydney laughed. "Come on, we have to go rehearse 'I Got Rhythm' ten billion times," she later said after checking her watch.

They jumped off the couch and entered the hallway, and just as they turned the corner to get to the stage, Weiss stepped out in front of them, stopping Sydney abruptly. He cleared his throat and cast a glance to Kerri. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and crept forward slowly. "I'll catch you later, Soph."

Sydney played confused as well. "What is it, Nicolas?" she asked, watching as Kerri slipped out of hearing range.

"Dixon asked me to find you, this is serious." He pulled her arm back into her dressing room and closed the door tightly. "Julian Sark escaped five days ago from prison."

"What?"

"I know, I know. Dixon was furious it took us this long to find out. We should have been notified immediately.

Sydney was horrorstruck. Her dream about Irina… It hadn't been a dream at all. Irina really came into her room, watched her, and told her the truth about Sark. All that meant that her warning about not pursuing Omega had been real as well… "Shit," she whispered. She looked up at her fellow agent. "My mother told me."

"What?" Now it was Weiss's turn.

"She came into my room a few nights ago and told me–"

"Whoa, Derevko in your room?"

"–She wanted me not to do this mission… I-I thought I was dreaming. This is so absurd."

"Tell me about it… Listen, you should tell Dixon about this. And your dad."

Sydney nodded, leading him back towards the stage. She'd consider telling Dixon, but she refused to tell Jack. After his peculiar demand last Wednesday this would only make him crazier. In fact, he might order her off the mission, which would ruin everything.

Why did Irina Derevko always complicate things?

She tried to forget about the incident during the rehearsal. For the next two hours she managed to concentrate mainly on 'I Got Rhythm', both song and dance. Although, she had to admit, it was rather frustrating when Damien Bruggman stopped them every ten seconds to correct one tiny mistake. She laughed at Weiss for pointing out that she was off key every time she sang, whether she was truly off or perfectly in tune. And she noticed particularly that the entire cast enjoyed watching her smack him upside the head when the director had his back turned.

But what Sydney enjoyed the most was, despite the rigorous rehearsal, she hardly had to worry about acting. She was pretending to be Sophia pretending to be Polly, but the pretense became forgotten behind the singing and dancing.

Plus, it's nice to be completely civil with Vaughn. And dancing with Vaughn and singing with Vaughn…

Chris, I mean Chris.

When Damien finally felt somewhat satisfied by their progress, he dismissed them for lunch, calling for Chris and Desmond to return at one to work on the 'What Causes That?' number. Sydney bolted off the stage to grab her coat from her dressing room. She was starving, especially after hours of tap dancing.

She was in the lobby when she heard someone call, "Sophia!" She turned, finding Desmond jogging towards her to catch up. She noticed his T-shirt fitting comfortably over his muscles, and his coat slung casually over his shoulder. "Hey," he smiled weakly when he caught up to her. "Sorry if you tried to call me over the weekend, for some reason my phone lost service out there."

Sure it did, Sydney thought, perhaps too harshly.

"You want to grab some lunch with me?" he asked, a puppy dog look sinking into his eyes. How could she say no to that? Damn the persuasion… Still, she was still mad at him. All weekend and no contact. That was one, two, three, four days and nothing. Not an e-mail, phone call, nothing. Desmond must have noticed her skeptic look. "Sophia, I'm really sorry about this weekend. I… I really missed you," he leaned in closer and whispered this onto her forehead.

She breathed in his warm scent and sighed. Suddenly she saw movement out of the corner of her eye; a janitor, mopping the tiles; Jack, mopping the tiles. She reminisced what both Jack and Irina had said to her, and in a necessity of defiance, she uttered loud enough for Jack to hear, "I missed you too." She smiled at Desmond. "Let's go get lunch." She wrapped her arm around Desmond's and proceeded with him out the door, knowing perfectly well that Jack was raging inside.

A/n: Damn, that was long! I had another three or four pages, too, but I threw that into Chapter 7 for ya. Well, whadja think? Methinks you'll greatly enjoy the next chapter. Seriously, I can't wait. So let's review because you love me and want more (please?)!