Title: The Hiding Place |
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“Son of a bitch!” She walked away from it and pulled hard on the silver lever of the old-fashioned fridge, yanking it open. If the stove wouldn’t light, she’d just have a salad. “Fucking piece of shit.” She rummaged through the fridge and pulled out some lettuce, tomato, cucumber, leftover grilled chicken, and grated cheese. As she was chopping the tomato, the knife nicked her finger. Tired of expletives, she simply sighed. “This is not my day.” And then she laughed. She laughed because she couldn’t cry. It had been so long since it had been her day. She’d had a few pretty good days after the fall of SD-6. She and Vaughn had begun the relationship they’d been dancing around for two years, the forbidden relationship that was suddenly allowed, if frowned upon by the higher ups. Neither of them cared. They were happy, or at least Sydney thought so. Though she hadn’t told him in so many words, she had fallen in love with him, and she thought that he felt the same way. And he did, or so he said. But then the bottom fell out of her world. She woke up one day to find that two years had passed, and the man she loved was married to another woman. If he loved her so much, how could he have moved on so quickly? She’d heard it all, how much he had suffered, how close he had been to the edge. She’d heard it from him, she’d heard it from Weiss, she’d even heard it from Marshall, for God’s sake. But how was that supposed to make any difference when she had to watch him walk out of the CIA rotunda at the end of the day with his arm resting easily on the shoulders of that faux blonde. And Sydney would bet her real auburn locks that Lauren’s blonde ones were as fake as Francie’s favorite push-up bra. Francie. She had been dead for over two years, and Sydney had only begun to mourn her. Not to mention Will. Though he wasn’t dead, she had as much access to him as if he was. The only people she had left in her life to rely on were her dad, and somewhat surprisingly, Weiss. It was surprising because he was Vaughn’s best friend, but he had really been there for her since her return. It was he and her dad that caused any guilt she had for leaving the way she had. She left a note. She didn’t want to put any of them through the grief they went through last time. But she had to leave. She couldn’t take it anymore, and she was tired of fighting. Fighting for everything she’d lost, for everyone she’d lost. She was just tired, and she needed to leave. So she looked around online for somewhere remote, but not completely isolated, and she ended up here, in a less than stellar cabin on the Manitoulin Island, in Northern Ontario, Canada. It was the largest freshwater island in the world, or so the woman said when she called to inquire about the cabin. It was on the south side of the island, near Providence Bay. Though it was conjoined to a neighboring cottage to her right, she had her own private stretch of beach. There was no one there right now, though a family had been there the week before. It was a rental, and she had been told by the real estate agent that it would be occupied throughout the summer, but that there probably wouldn’t be anyone there for the rest of the year. She looked around her own cabin. She had some work to do, including getting the old gas stove repaired, or getting a new one. She paid $175,000 Canadian, a price which the old gossip at the local grocery store clucked at. She knew what Sydney had paid, she told her, and said that the ‘poor girl’ had been taken. The cabin was such a mess, she said, and she knew of a nice little well-kept place in Kagawong for $162,000. Sydney didn’t care. She wasn’t in the mood to haggle or look around, and besides, $175,000 Canadian was a laughable amount to pay for waterfront property when she compared it to the housing market in California. Everything was old in the cabin, but she kind of liked that. She liked that the old fridge was the color of baby aspirin. She liked that the table and chairs had about three coats of paint on them and were chipping. When it worked, she liked the old gas stove, the puffing sound it made when the flames shot out to lick the bottom of the pots. It all felt authentic, somehow, and in a life like hers, authenticity was to be coveted. One thing she did miss was having a high speed Internet connection, they were still using dial-up here. Because of bad reception, she didn’t have a cell phone, either. Not that she needed a cell phone, no one even called her on her land line. No one knew she was here. She jumped when the phone rang the other day, but when she picked it up, her heart beating quickly, the man asked for Miss Nicholl, and told her that the book she’d ordered had come in. Andrea Nicholl was her alias. She had created one only out of habit, because she really didn’t make much of an effort to cover her tracks. But she asked them in the note not to look for her, that she needed some time alone, and that she would contact them when she was ready. She hoped they would respect that. Her dad had been out of the country when she left, so she hadn’t had to face him. But Weiss had knocked on her door the night before she left, and she didn’t tell him she was leaving. She lied by omission, but a lie was still a lie, and she hated to do it. He had been such a good friend to her these past few months, and sometimes she thought that there might even be more if she allowed it. But he was Vaughn’s best friend, and even if she could get past that, she was pretty sure he couldn’t. The wind picked up as Sydney placed her dirty dishes in the sink, and the old rickety cabin shuttered. She looked out the window down at the beach, and watched as her folding chair flipped over and began to blow away, a big metal and fabric tumbleweed. She rushed outside and ran down to the beach, where she caught up with the chair and righted it. “Pesky little bugger, isn’t it?” Sydney whipped around at the voice, instinctually falling into a combative stance. “Weiss!” “Surprised to see me?” His tone was light, but his expression was not. He looked very serious, and she thought she saw a hint of anger in his eyes. “As a matter of fact, yes,” she said. “I guess you would be,” he said quietly. Too quietly. Sydney stared at him. He was definitely angry. But what right did he have? Yes, she was grateful for his friendship, but she had no obligation to him, not really. “Weiss,” she said, “I don’t understand why you’re here. I asked to be left alone.” “Oh, well, whatever Sydney Bristow wants, Sydney Bristow gets.” “Excuse me?” she asked in disbelief. “You heard me. What you did was incredibly selfish. Everyone’s worried about you.” She was taken aback by the venom in his voice. “Why are you here?” “Why am I here?” he spat. “Jesus Christ, Sydney!” He stared at her for a long moment, his anger palpable. Then he turned away from her and walked to the water’s edge, staring out at the choppy waves of Lake Huron. “You’re right,” he said finally, the anger in his voice replaced by bitterness. “Why am I here?” He turned and walked past her, up the beach toward the neighboring cottage where she assumed he had parked and maybe even rented. She watched him go in confusion. She didn’t understand why he was so upset. They were friends, good friends even, but he was acting like she owed him something. “Weiss!” she yelled after him. He didn’t stop. “WEISS!” Sydney jogged and caught up with him as he was about to climb the wooden steps to the cottage. “What is your problem?” she demanded. “I didn’t just take off, I left a note.” “You left a note,” he repeated sourly. “Yeah, you left a note. It didn’t say where you were going. It didn’t even really say why you left. It just said you wanted to be alone. For Christ’s sake Sydney, how did we even know that note was really from you? Or that you weren’t forced to write it? Mike took it to handwriting analysis, but you and I both know that that means shit these days.” Realization flooded over her. He was here on Vaughn’s behalf. Of course. “As you can see, I’m fine,” she said icily. “You can go back and give your report to Vaughn. Tell him everything is great, and he shouldn’t bother himself with me anymore.” Weiss let out a mirthless laugh and shook his head. “Fine.” He started walking away from her, but before she could even think about stopping him, he turned around, his expression once again impassioned. “No, you know what? It’s not fine. I realize now that I came all the way here for nothing, but Goddamn it, I’m here and I’m gonna say what I have to say. Vaughn,” he drew the name out, “doesn’t even know I’m here. While he is concerned about you, Vaughn decided to just let you go.” “Then why are you…” Weiss cut her off by grabbing her shoulders and crushing her to him, his lips fervently descending on hers. She was shocked, and didn’t respond at first, but when he began to pull away, she reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him closer. She had imagined what it would be like to kiss him, and she wasn’t disappointed. He was more forceful than she imagined, but she figured it was a result of his agitated state. Not that she minded. Sydney Bristow was a strong, powerful woman, who liked to take charge in every aspect of her life, including the bedroom. But not all the time. So when Weiss slid his hands down her back, skimmed her ass, gripped her thighs and hoisted her up, she wrapped her legs around his waist and grinned at him. “My cabin’s back that way,” she said, nodding towards her property. “Mine’s closer,” he said, nuzzling her neck. He climbed the rough wooden stairs, Sydney still in his arms. She marveled at his vigor and mentioned it to him. “Just wait.” She liked the sound of that. ** Sydney found him staring out the front window of his cabin, shivering in his t-shirt and boxers. “It gets chilly at night,” she said. He just nodded, and his serious expression and demeanor worried her. “Hey,” she said, slipping her arms around him and resting her cheek on his back. “What’s the matter?” He sighed and didn’t say anything for a long time. “I wasn’t going to come up here,” he said quietly. “I was just going to find out where you were, and make sure you were safe.” “But?” she prompted. “But when I did that, I felt like I needed more. I needed to find out why you just up and left. I needed to see you, to make sure you were really okay. I needed to know that you weren’t under duress of any kind.” Sydney knew there was more but she didn’t rush him. She tightened her grip around his waist and waited. “Sydney, when I realized you were gone, I…” He paused and lifted her hand to kiss it. “I guess I needed to come up here and see if what I’ve been feeling was even the slightest bit mutual.” “It is, obviously.” Her attire, a pair of underwear and his t-shirt, was testament to that. “But damn it, Sydney, I hate playing second string.” Sydney was silent as she contemplated trying to convince him that this was not the case. Of course Vaughn had been in her life first, but it didn’t mean that she saw Weiss as a backup. “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “Pacey got the girl.” “What?” he asked, clearly confused. He turned around to face her. “On Dawson’s Creek,” she said, blushing. “Dawson’s Creek?” he asked with a smirk. “Exactly when did you ever find time to watch Dawson’s Creek?” “Francie got me into it,” she said mock-defensively. “It was roommate bonding time. She would tape it for me when I was away. Anyway, she ended up with the wise ass, joke-cracking best friend, not the moody and brooding title character. And trust me, she ended up with the right guy.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about, crazy girl, and I can’t believe you watch that teenage drivel,” he teased. But his mood had lightened, and he turned around and pulled her into a hug. “Weiss,” she said, her turn to be serious. “I’m not ready to go back. Not now, maybe not ever.” He nodded, but he didn’t say anything. “Stay here with me,” she blurted. When she saw his surprised expression, she added “for awhile.” “Awhile?” he asked, a twinkle in his eye. “How long is awhile?” “As long as you want it to be.” “Okay.” END
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