Title: 57 N, 122 W Notes: I have no idea where this fits in the whole scheme of Drama/Angst/Humour/Fluff/Etc. All I know is that I explained to my muse that I had to come up with some Sydney/Weiss bubblefic, and this is what she gave me ;-) My Bubbleficathon requirements were from Macha for Alias, Sydney/Weiss, and a green Kermit washcloth. This takes place during Season 3, somewhere in the void between '3.10 -Remnants' and '3.11 - Full Disclosure'. Our heroes are caught in a winter storm after searching in the Rockies for a Rambaldi artifact, and take shelter in a local cabin. Thanks: To Em Meredith for organizing the Bubbleficathon, and finally forcing me to try my hand at writing Sydney/Weiss. Thank you to Autobadgirl for the wonderful beta, and brilliant words of encouragement :-) |
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57 N, 122 W Latitude "The angular distance from the equator to a given
point on the Earth's surface. * * * * *
"Remind me again why we even came up here?" Weiss asked as he and Sydney closed the heavy outside door, struggling against the wind and cold. It had to be at least minus twenty. Certainly cold enough to chill them and make them eager to find shelter. "Listen, I'm not the one who had the idea in the first place," Sydney answered, by now working in front of the fireplace in the main room. She stacked a few logs together and reached for a piece of newspaper from a pile next to those. Standing again, she searched for matches. "Blame Rambaldi," she added. "He's done enough we can blame him for, right?" A wry chuckle accompanied this, but Weiss knew she wasn't being completely ironic. He could only guess what it was like to be in her position. She'd been back for a couple of months now and was still no closer to figuring out what had happened to her for those missing two years. He knew she and Will had found that strange Rambaldi cube a couple of days ago, but so far the CIA and the NPR had come back shaking their heads about what it meant. Weiss had also seen the way she and Will parted, and had his suspicions about what else had happened between the two of them, but he wouldn't pry. She hadn't said anything about it, but along with everything else he couldn't be sure any more what was bothering her the most. He'd been partnered with her on enough missions lately and had spent enough nights cooking dinner and drinking tequila in her apartment, to tell when she was preoccupied or not. Tonight, he was sure it was somewhere in the former. Still, they were both distracted as it was - right now their first priority was getting heat and finding supplies. "Well, next time we actually talk to a Rambaldi follower, remind me to question their distribution practices. Secrecy is one thing, but hiding clues halfway up an icy, snow-covered mountain?" he shook his head. "That's just nuts," he said. Under one arm he held the object of their search, a steel box whose contents would remain a mystery until they arrived back in Los Angeles and showed it to Marshall. Two different locking mechanisms held the box together, and the age of the design along with the tell-tale Rambaldi symbol on one corner told them how intricate it was. They couldn't risk damaging the box or its contents, at least not yet. Sydney located the matches and exhaled a sigh of relief a few moments later as she finally succeeded in creating a flame. She arranged the wood carefully and added some more paper, and then checked the flue, just to be sure it was open. When she stood again she found Weiss had seated himself in the armchair near the fireplace, the Rambaldi box discarded on a nearby table. And truly, she couldn't blame him for resting. "How's your arm?" she asked, crouching next to his chair. She reached tentatively for his left arm, where the dark red stain had grown larger. They'd been pursued during their retreat down the mountain, and were still uncertain about who had done the pursuing. They'd been warned that Covenant members were after the same Rambaldi piece and might give them chase, but couldn't yet be sure if they were the ones who fired at them. In any case, one of their bullets had hit its target. "Oh, it'll be fine, I'm sure..." he answered as he watched her work, although he grimaced a little at the lingering pain. It had been more than half an hour since he'd been injured, and he knew now was about the time when shock would be setting in. Sydney would be aware of that too, and they'd been partnered together often enough to recognize when she had gone into medic-mode. She wouldn't relax until she'd checked everything out. The bullet had grazed his arm, lightly enough not to stop them in their retreat, but hard enough to force them to head for cover, even if the winter storm wasn't enough of a reason. Sydney eased his jacket away from his shoulders and the injured arm, and took one of the remaining rolls of gauze from her emergency kit. She wrapped it around the injured spot and checked his pulse, just to be on the safe side. Sydney winked at him. "Now that we've got a little bit of warmth that should help. I'll go check to see if there's a generator," she said, "And see what else there is in this place." She smiled down at Weiss and patted his shoulder as she walked off. "You stay put for the moment." "Yes ma'am," he answered with a brief smile. He was tired. They both were. And to top it off he had a dull pain in his arm, his toes were nearly frozen, and he wasn't going to complain if Sydney Bristow took care of things for the moment. He took a deep breath and let it out again, relaxing a little now that they were inside for the night. Dusk had ended hours ago. A short while later Weiss realized he must have dozed off, and when he opened his eyes and looked around again he registered that there was a lot more light in the room than there had been before. Sydney had found the generator, and a few lamps had been switched on in the main room and in the kitchen beyond. "Hey," her voice roused him, along with her hand on his shoulder. "Don't nod off on me yet, I still might need to stitch you up." Her tone was friendly but purposeful. All he needed was a glance down at his arm again to realize she was probably right. The gauze wouldn't last much longer. "Right," he said, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. "Better get to it, then." He stood up to join her.
It was a small, functional, four-room cabin, used by RCMP mostly in the summer months when tourist traffic was high, or in the fall when hunting season kept them on the watch. At this time of year it was mostly reserved for local or partnering agencies in need of an emergency stop. Sydney and Weiss, naturally, fell into the latter category, and the cabin would be their safe house for the night. They'd dropped their things in the main room and Sydney draped their wet and cold outer layers across chairs by the fire. The scent of smoke from the fire and the dampness of their clothes combined in the air around them. They could hear the sound of the wind outside and were feeling cozier each minute they were inside, with no small amount of relief. They walked into the kitchen, where he saw she'd gathered a few things. The kettle had just started to steam, and he sat down at the table as she turned off the burner. "The water heater isn't very big, it'll probably take a bit before the generator can get it heated," she explained. She mixed some warm water into a bowl with a few suds and brought it over to the table, reaching for the washcloth she'd left there. "Yeah, give it an hour," he told her. "Maybe less. I'm sure we'll be nice and toasty by then, anyhow." She sat down and plunged the washcloth into the hot water, and nodded back to Weiss. "All right, let's have a better look at that," she told him. "You want me to strip for you, now, is this what you're saying?" he asked jovially, although Sydney saw that his light conversation was a poor cover. He'd stopped paying close attention to the wound, and she knew that Weiss didn't like dealing with blood. But she helped him peel away the top layer of his fleece, leaving only his T-shirt beneath and allowing Sydney better access. "Nah, in this weather? Hardly be worth it." She shook her head, and winked at him briefly. Reaching over with the washcloth, she cleaned away as much as she could from the injury. Although the gauze had become damp once more from the wound, Sydney was relieved that the blood had started to clot. It wasn't as bad as she thought it might have been. Weiss glanced over at her hand and noticed the colour and design of the cloth she was using. "Kermit the frog? You couldn't find anything more manly than that around here?" he joked. Sydney held up the cloth for a moment and noticed for the first time the small green Kermit face in one corner. She smiled and shook her head. "Sorry, this was the first one I found. Beggars can't be choosers, you know," she warned him. "Besides, what's wrong with Kermit?" "Nothing, nothing," he said lightly. "All I'm saying is if it was a choice between Kermit the Frog and He-Man? No question who'd be in charge." She put aside the cloth as she finished, laughing gently. Weiss's jokes were something she never missed. "We might not need to stitch it after all," she said to his clear relief. "I'll disinfect it and wrap it up again, and then we'll have to look at it again in a little bit." He nodded, looking back at her. "All right." Once she'd finished cleaning the wound and wrapping his bandage, she could tell right away that his anxiety was starting to dissipate. It was a reaction she'd seen in him before, one she often thought a little odd - that such an experienced Agent should feel so uneasy at the sight of blood. But then she would always remind herself of the injury that kept him in the hospital for so long a few years ago, and then it would make sense. Nevertheless, she knew the early signs of hypothermia and shock, and didn't want him lapsing very far into either. She stood again, and reached for a small bundle she'd left on the other chair. "What now?" he asked, looking after her as he tried to slip his fleece on again. The room was still on the chilly side, if a bit warmer than before. "Wait," she said, interrupting his progress and taking the fleece away altogether. She unfolded the bundle in her hands - a large flannel robe she'd found in the closet of the far room. "Put this on instead, it'll keep you warm." He paused, but then shrugged a little and stood to help her throw it around him. "No complaints here," he said. "I guess it's a good thing Mounties aren't on the short side," he offered. She helped him slip his arms into the robe and pull it over his shoulders, but Weiss's hands stopped hers as she started to tie the belt for him. "Syd, it's okay," he told her gently. "I got it." Sydney paused, and returned his embarrassed smile. "Right, sorry," she said, and pulled her hands away to let Weiss take care of the rest. She turned towards the kitchen cupboards. "Well, I think it's time for something hot to drink," she said, opening up a few doors. From one she withdrew two coffee mugs, and from another she pulled out a canister. "Aha," she announced. "Hot chocolate." A few minutes later she was mixing it with some hot water and a bit of extra sugar; it was the best they could do for the moment. "Sounds great to me," he answered, as Sydney brought two steaming mugs to the table. Weiss took one from her and held his mug up as if in a toast. "Cheers," he said, and she smiled back, bringing her mug to clink against his. "Cheers." She took a sip from hers, and enjoyed the warmth as she swallowed. Another brief sip and she put the mug down, running a hand across her face and through her hair. "So," she offered, "I guess we'll be here for a few hours." Sydney glanced around at the small, shuttered window in the room. She wondered when the snow would let up. "Yeah," he agreed. "No answer on the SatFone, huh?" She shook her head. "No. I'll try again in an hour, see if the signal gets through." She ran a hand through her hair, and then leaned her elbows on the table as she sipped from her hot chocolate. There was a silent pause between them, and from outside they could hear the wind and snow. It didn't seem like there was any sign of it stopping. "So?" she said, trying to think of a topic of conversation. It seemed like her thoughts had come to a grinding halt, now that there was nothing else to arrange for the moment. "How are things with Linda from Special Ops?" she asked him, smiling a little over the rim of her mug. He was in the middle of a sip and swallowed quickly, coughing a little. Sydney's smile grew a little, and she'd have sworn she saw a pink tint flush his cheeks. "Oh, not bad," he shrugged. "We met for a cup of coffee the other day. But, you know, she's been off on some...well, on some Special Op." He sighed a little. "I have got to learn to go for the ladies who aren't out of the country six days of the week." "Ah, I'm sure you'll find her eventually," she offered, although her tone was less encouraging than she'd intended it to be. The conversation slowed to a halt again, and Sydney shifted in her seat. She had to be able to come up with something better than this; things weren't that bad right now. Were they? She knew that she must have tuned out for a second, from Weiss's glance and his sudden verbal prodding. "Syd? Hey, you okay?" "Yeah," she said, shaking off the daydream and hoping she sounded convincing. "Come on, this is me you're talking to, you know," he said. Apparently she wasn't that convincing after all. "What's up?" Her breath left her in a quick exhalation. "Nothing new," she answered. "Nothing that hasn't been the way it has for the last few months." She clutched at her mug, turning it between her hands. Briefly, she considered trying to brush Weiss off, insist she didn't need to talk about anything. But then she decided there was no use in doing that any more - she'd been keeping up appearances for long enough. "I thought things were getting better," she said. "Even after what happened with Lindsay, and Sloane...It seemed like we were getting somewhere, like we had a lead for once..." She shook her head. "I don't know. I guess I'm just disappointed. I've been back for this long and I still have no idea where I was for all that time, or why, or with who." Weiss nodded, watching her as she spoke. He didn't make any attempt to answer her, at least not yet. "Vaughn won't talk to me," she said quietly, hesitant to venture towards that territory and yet unable to resist it. "What?" Weiss asked, disbelieving. "He's giving you the silent treatment?" He sat up a little, as if ready to make the next SatFone transmission directly to Agent Vaughn himself. "No, not exactly," she answered. "He's just not talking to me like we used to. Even when I first came back, he tried to be friendly with me, but now...Now he talks to me like we barely know each other. It's all, 'strictly professional' now, or something." Weiss sighed, his frustration evident. "Oh Syd, I'm sure that's not true...I know it seems like that, but I'm positive it's not. He's had a hard time, too," he said, and then paused, as if instantly regretting saying so. Sydney Bristow wasn't the person he should be talking to about having a hard time. "I know, Eric, you're probably right," she answered, her tone hardening just a little. "It's just that I don't know how to be around him any more. When I work with him now, it's like we're not even speaking the same language." It was her turn to sigh in frustration, and the silence returned. Weiss nodded back, and took another sip of hot chocolate, thinking. She could see the circles under his eyes and knew he was just as worn out as she was. She didn't want to press him, and she certainly didn't want to dig further into all of this right now. They drank in silence, and the sound of the wind against the cabin walls returned. Sydney rubbed at the back of her neck, suddenly aware of how stiff her shoulders were. Weiss observed her actions, and set down his now-empty hot chocolate mug. "You know, that water heater's probably hot by now," he offered. "You could go for a shower or something if you wanted. Might as well, we're not going anywhere for a while." She looked back at him with a surprised expression, not having even considered the option. It had been a rare mission, lately, when they were stuck somewhere long enough to actually try to relax. Well, she reminded herself, except for when you tangled yourself around Will in Poland a few days ago. But she shook off the memory and decided Weiss's suggestion was probably the best idea he could have come up with. She stood up, pushing aside her mug. "You know, I think that's a fantastic idea." "Hey, I'm not just a pretty face, you know," he joked. "And don't worry, I'll check the SatFone in a bit, see if I can't get through." "Thanks," she said, and rested a hand on his shoulder as she walked by. "Hey," Weiss answered after her, turning in his chair. "You did good tonight." She paused in the doorway briefly, looking back at him. "So did you."
"A division of the Earth that pinpoints how far
east or west a given place is." * * * * *
She stepped into the small bathroom, leaning against the door as she shut it behind her. Releasing a slow sigh, she tried to gather her thoughts together. As she looked around the small room she let her gaze come to rest on some of the dusty bottles and jars on the shelf in one corner. She walked over to investigate further and found that sure enough, one of these was a half-empty vial of bath salts. One corner of her mouth played at a brief smile as she brushed away some dust with her thumb and read the label. Suddenly very grateful to whatever Mountie or officer's wife or relative who had left such an item behind in the cabin, Sydney twisted off the cap and breathed in the scent. It wasn't something she could place, but it was floral and relaxing, and a lot more appealing than the smell of damp clothes and wood smoke. The shower plan was now instantly transformed into a bubble bath, and as she turned on the tap she upended the contents of the vial into the water. Sydney watched with satisfaction as steam rose from the water; she knew temperature wasn't something she would have to worry about. A few minutes later she was pulling off her clothes, and stepping gingerly into the inviting tub. She sank down into it willingly. As the warm water enveloped her she felt an almost immediate sense of comfort. The slope of the tub was just perfect, and she leaned back and closed her eyes as she stretched out and made herself comfortable. Her body was sore, and she could feel the residual tension in her shoulders that was always so hard for her to shake off after such an assignment. It was starting to fade a little now. She'd done her best to put on a cheerful face, and done what needed to be done to set up their post here, but she couldn't keep it up endlessly. She also had the inkling that he saw right through her. Sydney knew Eric meant well, and that he was only trying to make her feel better - giving her space to talk about what she was feeling. Heaven only knew how many times he'd done that for her in the past weeks and months. And as much as she knew she needed to have someone to talk to about the things that were bothering her...She'd grown tired of talking. It never changed anything. She'd lost track of the number of weeks since she'd been back - was it eleven now, or twelve? Had it officially been three months yet? They were still no closer to figuring out where she'd been for those two years. Her father had been to bat for her with Lindsay and Dixon so many times she'd stopped trying to reason with him it was starting to take her toll on her sense of independence. Sloane was still clinging to whatever tenuous hold the CIA had given him on his freedom, and inside she seethed with fury at the very idea that she was supposed to be patient and accommodating with him. It had been a while since she could remember feeling this weary. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. In the last week and a half she'd gone from being imprisoned by Lindsay, to being rescued by none other than Sloane, then was once again off on the search for Rambaldi's mysterious artifacts. All the while, Rambaldi was fast becoming the last name she ever wanted to hear again. And then there was Vaughn. In the last few days it had finally dawned on her what a struggle their relationship had become - how different he was from the man she knew before. He'd never be the same Michael Vaughn to her again, she saw that now. He was a husband, married to another woman who as far as she could tell showed no signs of giving up the man she'd fallen in love with. What's more, Sydney couldn't help but feel that Vaughn's feelings towards her changed on a weekly - almost daily - basis. Before Lindsay's men had found her in Rome, Vaughn had done everything he could to help her, driving her to a private jet and arranging for her documents to be there on the other end of the flight for her to use. He'd looked at her with such dedication and affection it had been almost painful for her to touch him, to let him hold her, because she knew when he let her go it would be for good. No, not almost painful, she thought. Painful. There was no other way to describe her life, these days. Will had given her a reprieve. That night, as strange as it might have been for her to fall into his arms so easily, it was the first time since Hong Kong that she'd felt at home - anywhere, or with anyone. He hadn't tried to offer her platitudes or baseless reassurance, or even ask her to tell him more than she wanted to tell. In her mind she'd been screaming back at him how wrong he was to try to console her, and that he couldn't possibly understand what she'd been through - until she realized how he might actually be the only one who possibly could. "I'm just alone," she had said to him then. So was Will, really. His two years of isolation and loneliness had just been ones he could actually recall in his memory - that seemed then to be the only real difference between them. She'd cried in front of him as if it was the first time she'd had the chance; he'd clung to her just as tightly as she had to him, that much was also clear to her. Weiss hadn't asked her about her assignment with Will - but then, neither had anyone else for that matter. She saw now, too, how much she needed someone to talk to - not just about work, but about anything. For a few brief hours, Will had been that person for her and then he was gone again. In the aftermath she felt herself becoming hard and bent only towards her work - It was the only way she could think of to banish the vulnerability she knew was always hidden below whatever exterior she showed. She shifted in the tub, running one hand across her abdomen until her fingers found the scar. The line of raised flesh that cut below her navel had become another new familiarity in the last couple of months. Familiar, but no less unknown. Both of her hands lifted suddenly to cover her face, and she took in a breath, trying in vain to stifle the emotion that was welling up from inside. She'd tried for so many weeks to keep everything buried, and even though with Will she'd felt what it was like to stop trying, she couldn't stop the tears from coming again now. It's too much, was all she could think. She squeezed her eyes shut furiously against the tears, underneath her hands that covered her face in anguish. And so she didn't hear Weiss knock quietly, or open the door and enter the room. Nor did she hear the water draining from the tub, or feel the chill of the air around her on her damp skin amidst her grief. Instead the next sensation she registered was a towel being wrapped around her, and then a pair of arms holding her and lifting her, carrying her away. She wrapped her arms back around him, and rested her head against his shoulder and cried, because there was no other way for her to respond.
When she opened her eyes again she felt a little chilled, and yet was gradually becoming aware of the comforting weight around her. She sat up a little, and saw the folds of a robe wrapped around her body and a blanket across her legs. Sydney sat up a little more and blinked, realizing that she had dozed for a short while, and she was indeed stretched out on the bed. As she looked towards the window she noticed once again the sound of the wind and the snow that pelted the cabin. The storm wasn't letting up. She let her gaze drop, noticing suddenly that her robe was the same one she'd handed to Weiss only an hour or two ago. She felt a twinge of embarrassed gratitude. The question crossed her mind which one of them needed it more. There was a sound from the direction of the kitchen. The next moment she saw Weiss walking towards her, a couple of steaming mugs in his hand. This time she didn't smell chocolate, but honey and cinnamon. She wondered where he managed to find that, and figured that he must have been a little more thorough in his kitchen search. He handed her one of the mugs and she offered him a small smile. "Here," he said, "Good for whatever ails you." As she took a tentative sip she tasted not just honey and cinnamon, but..."Rum?" she asked in pleasant surprise. "Where did you find this?" He clutched his own mug and sat down next to her. "I have my ways," he said. "Well, or at least, I checked one or two cupboards you didn't get to before," he admitted, winking back. "Plus, I have my grandma's secret recipe." She smiled, before looking down at her mug. The rum toddy tasted good, and since her bath the weariness that had settled in her limbs had now dissipated. She looked back at Weiss, whose comfortable chatter also seemed to have subsided. "Eric, I..." she started to say, to thank him in her embarrassment, but was interrupted by his response. "Shh, it's all right Syd. Really. You had your chance to take care of me, and now it's my turn." His tone was friendly, but this time there was no hint that he was kidding around. She knew she was seeing the side of Eric Weiss that most people didn't see very often - the one that took charge without fanfare, and stepped in to help without needing to be asked. "Thanks for the robe," she told him. "And...Well, thank you." "Ah, don't mention it." She brushed at her cheeks and smoothed away a damp strand of hair from her face. "I must be a mess." "Aw, Syd, you couldn't look like a mess if you tried," he said gently, a bit of humour returning. He stretched out next to her and leaned back with his own drink in his hands. Sydney let out a breath, wondering how much she should say, or even if she should say anything. They'd already had such a long day and night, and she didn't want to go through another round of dragging up the past - not with Weiss. She'd done that enough. She reclined next to him, looking down again at her hands and her drink. She tried to think of what to say next, but before she could find the words she felt Weiss's arm curl around her shoulders and press her close to him. In all their nights they'd spent on her sofa or his, with a drink in their hands or pizza in front of them, she'd never wound up in his arms before. Still, she discovered herself there now, as she discarded her mug on the little bedside table and leaned gladly against him. His arms were strong, she'd always been able to tell that, but this was the first time she'd been able to feel it first hand. She rested in the crook of his arm and laid her head against his chest, exhaling slowly. Just then she remembered something and lifted her head again. "Hey, how's your arm?" she asked, looking over at his injured arm. "Oh, it's still attached," he said. He set down his mug and stretched out his free arm a little further. "Thanks to your fantastic bandaging job, that is." He turned his to look down at her and smiled. "It's okay Syd, I'll be fine. Right now I was more concerned about you." She allowed him a half-smile, perhaps out of relief, and leaned back against him again. "Yeah," she said, a sigh escaping her. "I guess I'll be okay, too," she said. "It's just?I feel like my life is on hold, or something like that." She brushed her fingers across her hair again, smoothing it away from her face. "I wish something would change." "Hey, I get it," he told her then, repeating the very words she'd heard from Will a few days ago. And hearing them now, Weiss spoke them with no less gentleness or care, and somehow they seemed to mean more this time. She felt her resolve weaken again, and her eyes blinked back at the moisture that started to gather again. Weiss pulled the throw over both of them and gave her shoulder a squeeze. She could smell smoke on his sweater, which was now dry, and wondered if he'd been sitting by the fire again. Perhaps wood smoke isn't so bad after all, she thought, closing her eyes for a moment. His heartbeat was steady and strong beneath his layers of fleece, and she found it calming her in a way she'd never experienced before. Or at least, not in a very long time. Sydney raised her head and looked up at him. His arms around her were so comfortable, just then, and he'd never been so patient and kind with her - even after so many weeks. She looked into his eyes as she searched his expression, and there she saw honesty, trust, and warmth. It would have been so simple for her then to lean in just a little further, and kiss him. So she did. But as she leaned in she pressed her mouth not to his lips, but to his cheek, as her free hand cradled his face. No sooner had she lifted her lips away than she wrapped her arms around his neck, and buried her head against his shoulder. Both of his arms closed all the way around her. She felt his breath warm on her neck as he exhaled, and his hands rub against her back. Inside, she was breaking again, and this time it was so much easier to do because she knew she didn't have to do it alone. Nothing would have stopped her from kissing Eric Weiss just then - not even, she guessed, Eric Weiss himself - but she knew that too, would not change anything. Just then she couldn't put into words for him what she needed, and it turned out that didn't matter in the slightest. Her sobs shook from her and she breathed in gasps, as she held on to him as if for dear life. She heard him whispering consolations to her but the words didn't matter as much any more. His embrace was the only thing she needed or wanted, and he held her back with as much care as if he'd done it a thousand times before. A few moments later her tears subsided again. She lifted her face, brushing at her cheeks as if embarrassed. "Oh, Eric, what are you going to do with me?" she asked, but this time a smile had started to break across her expression, as her shuddered breaths held the resonance of early laughter. He smiled too, rubbing her arms briskly. "Hey, we're not going anywhere, remember? We can stay right here for hours if we want to," he reasoned. Just then he reached past her and retrieved the mug she'd set down earlier. "Here, drink this - it's for medicinal purposes," he told her firmly, and she chuckled again as he reached for his own steaming mug. They leaned back again next to each other, both of them more at peace than they had been an hour ago. She still felt relief that he hadn't pressed her more than she wanted, and that what she could accept from him just now seemed to have been enough. But more than anything else she felt as though a weight had been lifted from her, although she couldn't explain exactly why or how. Sydney took another welcome sip of her hot rum and glanced back at Weiss. "So, you say this is your grandma's secret recipe?" she asked, a slightly mischievous glint in her eye. Weiss raised his eyebrows as he looked down at her, but the laughter that escaped him told her that she was right to guess that there was a story in there somewhere. "Oh, so it's secret recipes you want now, is it?" He brought his arm around her again and they settled back with legs outstretched. "As it happens, my grandmother swore me to silence years ago, but if you promise not to tell anyone, I suppose I can make an exception," he allowed. "I think I can handle that," she told him, grinning broadly. "Well, it goes back to when she and my grandfather were pretty hard up during the war. And my grandfather always liked hot buttered rum, but since rations were short, this one year there was no butter to go around at the holidays. Somehow he'd managed to get a bottle of rum from these other guys in their neighbourhood who'd set up some kind of home-made distillery - and there are more stories about that one, let me tell you," he added, and Sydney chuckled back. "So, he comes home with this stuff," Weiss continued, "And tells her to make him a hot buttered rum, just like every other year. She looks at him like he's crazy, and tells him they can't have buttered rum anyway on account of there being no butter, but he just doesn't get it, and every night he keeps asking her. So finally one night, she throws her hands up and marches in to the kitchen and finds whatever she can find besides butter - cinnamon, honey, cardamom, I don't know what else - and heats it up and brings it to him, and he pronounces it the best buttered rum he'd ever had." Sydney was practically giggling now, not just at the story but at Weiss' performance - she could almost hear his grandparents' voices and see the place in her mind. "Yeah, I think my grandfather lost a few pounds that year, too. No butter, after all," he added, and her giggles erupted into full laughter as he continued the story. She curled her legs around underneath her blanket, and gripped her mug with both hands, enjoying the warmth even more. "Tell me more about them," she asked. He looked back at her and smiled. "Yes ma'am. Believe me, I have no shortage of stories when it comes to the Weiss family." His presence was comforting, his voice was reassuring, and for those few hours she forgot about everything else. For the rest of the night they remained there, as Weiss continued his stories and she listened. It didn't matter that Sydney didn't have many stories of her own that she could tell or wanted to tell, because he had plenty for both of them. And for a brief while, the sound of the storm outside was diminished by the sound of their laughter inside.
~ FIN ~ * * * * * *Thanks once again to Autobadgirl for the beta, and best to Macha. I hope you enjoyed it, sweetie :-) *Help with definitions and co-ordinates courtesy of the Canadian Geographic World Atlas.
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