Title: Contact Rating: R/NC-17 Disclaimer: Alias and all its characters belong to JJ, ABC,and Bad Robot.  All song lyrics contained within belong to their respective owners, not me. Author's Note: Thanks to Jennifer N, who started this fic with me and to Dae, who finished it.  This is AU and has only vague spoilers for Season 2.  In this story, Francie is Francie, not Allison.  There have also been some minor revisions to this story as of this posting.
	Part 1     New York City, Center of the Universe. Times are shitty, But I’m pretty sure they can’t get worse. Hot-Hot-Hot-Sweat-Sweet Wet-Wet-Wet-Red-Heat He was all around her, filling her, surrounding her. The heat of his hands almost burned her. Their skin sparked when they touched. He was slick with sweat, and when she slammed her lips to his she could taste herself there. She was so close, so close to the edge.... She sat up, sheets tangled around her legs. Her pillow was soaked with sweat. The air conditioner was broken again, and they were in the middle of the worst heat wave ever.  She always had the dream after she had been with someone else. Like he was right there, taunting her. She didn’t even know this one’s name. Didn’t care to know it either. All she knew was he had green eyes, just like all the others. It was getting hard to find one in New York she hadn’t slept with yet. The apartment in the East Village was small, but it suited her. Very few dark corners for people to hide in. She’d been there two years, hadn’t seen him in almost three. Not since that night in Rio. That night was humid and sticky too, but the smell of flowers filled the air, not the fetid smell of exhaust, garbage and urine that wafted into her window from the street below. She came there to escape and escape she had. She started a whole new life. Sydney Bristow was dead, Jordan Lord was not. After the takedown they wanted her to stay on, work for the good of the country, but she’d had enough. The pain of him was too raw and she didn’t want to even occupy the same space as he once had. She needed to cut her ties to this life before she lost herself. Her father was the only one who understood. He’d been betrayed too. When she first got there she spent days wandering around, taking everything in. It was comforting to go someplace and have no memory of him pop into her head. She went to clubs and bars and drank and fucked her pain away. Soon she could wake up and not think of him. She found an apartment and a job tending bar at a little dive on Avenue A. Not exactly a challenge, but it was just what she was looking for. She still spoke to her father. Jack’s one condition was that she call him at once a week. He knew better than to try to trace the call or have her watched. The first and last time he tried that she put the guy in the hospital for a month. In a sad way he was reassured by that - at least she could still take care of her herself. Sitting up, she stretched her legs out and looked at the clock. It was almost 7 and she was due at the bar at 8. Sighing, she stripped the bed and shoved the sheets into the laundry bag, the smell of last night’s conquest still lingering there. She flipped on the stereo as she went past and got in the shower.     **** The bar was already packed when she got there. “You’re late.” Jax called. Jordan hopped over the bar in one swift movement without replying and started taking orders. They worked in silence for twenty minutes until they were caught up. “Let me guess? Couldn’t get rid of him, huh?” asked Jax, sliding over to where she was emptying ashtrays. “No way. I kicked his ass out right after we were finished. Too hot to have to share a bed anyways. I just lost track of time, that’s all,” she said, forcing a smile. Jax was the only person she had that resembled a friend. She never pushed or asked too many questions about her past. But she was always honest with her, even if it hurt. That’s why she liked her. “Well, I hope it was good. You were in a rotten mood last night,” Jax said, pouring beers for a group of drunken guys who were busy trying to get a good look down her shirt. Jordan moved next to Jax and slammed an empty glass down in front of the worst offender. “Hey, take a fucking picture. It lasts longer,” she snapped as the kid jumped back. “I’m sorry...I just, I mean...” he stammered, trying to justify himself. She rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever. Don’t do it again or I might have to ask for your ID time next you come in here.” The kid began to back off, but his friend jumped in. “You can’t talk to him like that. Who the fuck do you think you are?” he sneered in her face, reeking of beer and cheap pot. She took a moment before replying. “You have no idea who I am and you don’t want to find out.” She went to turn away and leave it at that, but he wasn’t done. He grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “What’re you gonna do? Pull my hair?” he slurred in her face. It was like she was on autopilot. She swung with her free hand and with a satisfying snap she broke his nose. The bar exploded with movement as the kid’s friends helped him up, people tried to push forward to see what happened, and Jax pulled her into the small room behind the bar. No one noticed the blue eyed man at the end of the bar slip out the door.       Part 2 He had taken a huge risk by going in while she was working. In the mood she was in it might have even proved fatal. She hadn’t lost her touch, that’s for sure. When the other bartender pulled her away from the front he took the opportunity to get out before she saw him. He went around the corner and took a different shirt and baseball cap out of his bag. Changing quickly, he crossed the street and positioned himself directly across from the door. He lit a cigarette and waited for her to come storming out the door. ***** This is how it begins, Push it away but it all comes back again. All the flesh, All the sin. There was a time when it used to mean everything. The door slammed back hard when she came out. It was a mistake, she knows that. He grabbed her arm and she didn’t even think; it was automatic. He would be fine, but she almost lost her job. Again. She had to clear her head, and she knew just where to go.     ***** Using his peripheral vision, he mirrored her movement. Down Avenue A to Houston, then a quick left onto Orchard. When he looks away to light another cigarette he almost misses her go through a cleverly concealed doorway. There’s was a bouncer at the door and he makes a quick decision as he knocks. A menacing, burly black man answers. “Yeah?” he says, looking him up and down carefully. He clears his throat and asks, “I’m looking for Jordan. Is she here?” The man’s expression softens imperceptibly. “I’m an old friend.” He nods and pulled the door open to admit him. The heavy beat of house music made the walls pulse, as if it had a life of its own. The dark, narrow hall opens onto a balcony overlooking a large dance floor. Banquettes line the perimeter with a bar tucked into the far corner. He scanned the crowd and saw her come out when the song changed. she shines in a world full of ugliness she matters when everything else is meaningless He watches as she bumps and grinds against her partner, touching him, his lips so close to hers. He ached to be him, but this is not the time. She led him back to the bar and they do several shots of what he assumes to be tequila and head back out on the floor. For the better part of an hour they dance and drink, but she seems detached, like she’s somewhere else. When they go back to the bar for the next round, he swore she looked right at him. This is his cue to leave. He had to deliver something before morning.     ****** She couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching her. As soon as she entered the club she was on the prowl; she had a lot of forgetting to do. It had come in the form of Matt or Mark; she couldn’t really hear. One look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. When the music slowed down she pulled him onto the floor and unleashed her best moves. All it took was one dance and it was a done deal. The tequila dulled her brain and after while she knows it’s time to go, before he’s too drunk to be any good. She winds her arms around his neck and purrs, “Let’s get out of here.” He didn’t need much convincing and soon they were in her bed. She didn’t turn on the lights but the windows were open and moonlight flooded the room. He wasn’t too muscular and had freckles on his shoulder. Like someone else she knew. When she closed her eyes she saw the ceiling of a hotel room in Brazil. She could feel him above her, inside her, but she had to bite her tongue not to call out the wrong name when she came. He rolled off her and immediately fell asleep. It was late, and she didn’t have the energy to kick him out. She fell into a heavy and hopefully dreamless sleep.     ***** When she woke up he was gone. No note, just a card on her coffee table with a name and a phone number. “Sorry Mark at 917-555-2234,” she said as she tore up the card and tossed it in the trash. She changed and stripped the bed again and dumped everything in the laundry bag. That’s when she noticed the envelope under the door. She picked it up by its edge and cautiously opened the flap. There were pictures inside. Francie in a beautiful white wedding gown standing next to none other than Eric Weiss. Her eyes were filling with tears. Another of Will and Francie dancing at the reception, Francie and Eric cutting the cake and one of her by herself on the steps of the church. There was a note inside. Syd, It was a beautiful day and she missed you. She sat on the bed and cried herself back to sleep.       Part 3 She woke up to someone pounding on the door. Shaking the sleep away, she looked at the clock - 12:47 am. “Just a sec,” she called, grabbing a robe. When she pulled open the door she found Jax, her hand in mid-pound. Jax walked right past her into the apartment. “Jesus, Jordan! What’s going on with you? You missed your shift tonight and Luke’s about ready to fire your ass unless you call him and beg his....” she trailed off, just then noticing her friend’s red, puffy eyes and haggard appearance. “Jordan, are you alright?” “No. No, I am not fucking alright,” she said as she locked the door and sat back down on the bed. Jax came to the bed and picked up the photo of Francie and Will that was still lying on the bed. “Who’s this?” “My past,” she said simply. A look of sympathy crossed Jax’s face. “Oh no, was it him? Did he break your heart and marry someone else?” She looked back at the picture. “You are way cuter than her!” She almost laughed at her. “I wish it were that simple. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Jax. About my life before.” “Well, what? It couldn’t be that bad,” she said as she settled back against the headboard. She could sense a change in her friend immediately. “Before I tell you this, you have to swear you will never tell another living soul. It’s vital that no one else know who I am, or who I used to be,” she said, her voice strained. Jax was taken aback by her sudden seriousness. “Of course, I swear. Your secret’s safe with me.” Swallowing hard, she said, “I used to be a government agent. I was a spy for the CIA.” She watched Jax’s jaw drop as she processed the information Sydney had tried so hard to keep from her. “No way. You’re kidding me, right? A spy? Like James fucking Bond or something?” she asked incredulously. She nodded her head. “What I’m about to tell you is going to sound entirely unbelievable, but it’s all true. Once you hear the whole story you’ll understand, I promise.” Jax jumped off the bed and went to the small kitchenette. She came back to the bed with two glasses and a bottle of vodka and poured each of them a generous shot. “I think we might need this.” In a steady voice Sydney began the story with the “death” of her mother, the estrangement of her father, meeting Francie and Will, the unhappy start of her college years, her recruitment into SD-6, meeting Danny and his amazing proposal. She saw tears shine on Jax’s cheeks as she told her about the circumstances surrounding Danny’s death. About going to the real CIA, meeting Vaughn and becoming a double agent, and finding out her father’s true occupation. Next came Sloane, Dixon, Sark and “The Man”, Will’s investigation and kidnapping, going to Taipei to rescue him and her reunion with her mother. “Wait,” Jax interrupted, “your mother shot you?” A small smile crossed her lips, remembering the last time someone asked her that. She took another swallow of her drink before she answered. “Yeah, not quite what I had in mind.” “So, what happened with Vaughn?” Syd could feel her heartbeat speed up at the sound of his name. Her ultimate undoing. “It’s complicated,” she said as she moved to stare out the window. “I was on a mission in Rio, a mission that could have meant the end of SD-6 and The Alliance forever...” *****     Flashback - One Night in Rio, part 1 Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor of memory when single frames of one magic night forever flicker in close up on the 3-D IMAX of my mind? It wasn’t even a real mission, not as far as SD-6 was concerned. Sloane was sending her to Rio, to transport one of the Rambaldi artifacts to the head of SD-3, Antonio Maldonado. He told her she was the only one he could trust to get it there safely and in one piece. This was the opportunity the CIA had been waiting for. “Maldonado does most of his work from his home office,” she heard Vaughn say to her as he paced the floor of the warehouse. “In order to log into the Alliance mainframe, his computer is equipped with a secure external modem. Your father has been working with Op-Tech, and they’ve created a duplicate that will allow us to hack into the server the next time he logs in. You make the switch and your double agent days will be over.” She smiled broadly as she jumped off the crate she was sitting on. “I can’t believe it. We’re so close this time. I know this is going to work.” “You’ll have a secure CIA cell phone and as soon as you’re done, call me and I’ll give you the details on where you need to meet your contact to drop off the modem you take from Maldonado’s house,” he said. “Your plane leaves in 2 hours.” Syd gathered her bag and suitcase and headed towards the door. “Okay, so I’ll call after make the switch. Wish me luck!” “Good luck, Syd, and be careful,” he called to her retreating form.     ***** The plane ride was uneventful, and she slept most of the way. She hailed a cab in Portuguese and gave the address of Maldonado’s house. Unzipping her bag she made a final check - laptop, package from Sloane, SD-6 and CIA cell phones, and the small black box that held the modem. She took a deep breath when the cab pulled up to the front door, trying to calm herself down. When she rang it was Antonio himself that came to the door. “Sydney,” he exclaimed, “You look lovely, so grown up! How long has it been?” She smiled at him, playing the part. “Much too long, Antonio! You should come visit us more often. My father could use a little fun once in awhile.” She took his arm as he guided her into his office. “Where’s Lia? I wanted to ask her advice on a painting I was thinking of buying.” Lia was Antonio’s wife and like Emily Sloane, had been a sort of mother figure to Sydney as a child. “She is on a business trip in Italy, I’m afraid. By the time I found out Arvin was sending you, she was already gone. She’ll be so sorry she missed you,” he said as he closed the office door behind them. “So, shall we see what Arvin has sent me?” Syd produced the wrapped and sealed package to him, carefully noting the placement of the computer on the desk. “Would you like me to give you a few minutes?” she asked. “No, no, of course not. I’m sure whatever is in here, you probably retrieved yourself,” he said, with a smile. When he opened the package she did indeed recognize what was inside. It was a set of blueprints that had been hidden inside a painting at the Louvre. The CIA had the real thing, and now Antonio had the SD-6 fakes. She checked her watch. It was time. “Antonio, would you mind if I plugged my laptop in? My father is supposed to e-mailing me my return flight information. I’ll just be a minute.” He was too distracted by the documents. “Yes, that’s fine. Would you excuse me? I need to make a call,” he said as he gathered the blueprints and left the office. She unpacked the laptop and the modem. Going around the desk, she plugged the power cord in to the outlet and angled herself so she was blocking the security camera’s view. Quickly she changed the boxes and inserted the phone line into the jack on the back of her laptop. She booted up the computer and logged into the Credit Dauphine server. Jack’s e-mail was there and she responded to it with the pre-arranged message her father had given her. She repacked everything and went to find Antonio. He was sitting on the sun porch, listening intently to the person on the other end of the line. She waved at him and he put his hand over the receiver. “Antonio, I’m all set. It was good to see you. Give my love to Lia.” He nodded and went back to his call. ***** Once she had checked the room for bugs she called him. “Vaughn.” “Hey, it’s me. Everything’s done, I had no trouble. Is the agent in place?” He smiled into the phone when he heard the breathiness in her voice. “Yeah, you’re staying at Le Meridian in Copacabana, right?” “Room 547,” she said wistfully. “It’s beautiful and it has a view of the beach.” He cleared his throat and said, “Well, you should know that as we speak the CIA is hacking into the server, and it could be just a matter of days until the Alliance is through, for good. You ready to do the drop?” “Absolutely.” “Go down to the lounge on the first floor. I’ll stay on the phone with you until you get down there.” She grabbed her purse, put the modem inside, and strode towards the elevator. Switching ears she asked, “When does hockey season start? In a few days you may owe me some Kings tickets.” “It’s the middle of July. We have awhile ‘til hockey season,” he said with a chuckle. She stepped off the elevator and went to the lounge. It was about half full. “Who am I looking for?” “There’s a man sitting in a burgundy chair in the northeast corner near the window, reading a New York Times. That’s him. Ask for the time.” She saw him right away. “Got him. See you when I get back.” She ended the call and crossed to room. She stopped in front of him and said, “Excuse me? My watch seems to have stopped. Do you have the time?” “For you? Always,” he said as he lowered the paper. She was shocked to see Michael Vaughn looking back at her.     Flashback - One Night in Rio, part 2 “Excuse me? My watch seems to have stopped. Do you have the time?” “For you? Always,” he said as he lowered the paper. She was shocked to see Michael Vaughn looking back at her. She sat down into the chair next to him and tried her best to look casual, but inside she was seething. “What are you doing here? Do you know how dangerous this is?” she hissed. “The agent that was supposed to come got called away on a family emergency at the last minute and I was the only one available,” he said as he looked her up and down. “Is that all you brought to wear?” “What?” she asked, taken aback. “That’s what you’re worried about?” She looked down at the black suit she was wearing. “What’s the matter with this?” He chuckled and said, “Nothing, but it might be easier to blend in with the tourists if you dressed like one,” gesturing to his loose linen pants, blue shirt and sandals. He flashed her a smile, and he could tell she was starting to soften. “I have other clothes. But you still haven’t explained how you got this little trip approved by my father.” Shifting in the chair he brought the paper back up slightly in front of his face. “He was unavailable when the decision got made.” “He has no idea you’re here, does he?” she asked with a grin. “Nope, not a clue.” She shook her head as she stood up. “I’ll go change. Meet me in the bar in fifteen minutes.”     *****     30 minutes later, she found Vaughn, nursing a beer. Smiling apologetically, she slid into the seat across the booth from him. She was wearing a white tank top and a long red cotton skirt with black, low heeled sandals. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a messy twist, held up by two chopsticks and almost no makeup. “Sorry I’m late. Sloane called.” He immediately leaned forward. “What did he want?” “Nothing really. He wanted to let me know he had spoken to Antonio about the documents and wish me a safe flight back,” she said with a note of false brightness in her voice. Thinking fast she changed the subject, “So, now that I have you down here what am I going to do with you?” Standing up, he tossed some money down on the table and offered her his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”     *****       They walked down the busy streets in silence for awhile, not knowing what to say. Finally, Sydney couldn’t take it anymore. “Where are we going?” “You’ll see. Don’t you trust me?” he asked with a grin. ‘Trust you, yes. Trust myself around you? Not really,’ she thought as they went into a huge white building. They were in museum of some kind. She felt a jolt run through her as he took her hand as he led out onto a balcony. The sun was setting and it looked like the beach and the hills behind it were on fire. She was so caught up in the beauty of the moment she didn’t notice that Vaughn had put his arm around her waist and pulled her in close. “Syd,” he said, “I need to tell you something.” She looked up and him and smiled. “What?” “I think, well I know...” he stumbled. Laughing, she exclaimed, “What? Just tell me!” And without warning he kissed her, hoping that would explain everything. The moment their lips met, everything seemed to fall away, as if they were the only two people in the world. Her mind was whirling, a kaleidoscope of images of him, some real, some fantasy. It occurred to her she needed to breathe and she broke away from him. She knew exactly what he was trying to say. “I love you too.” Behind them they heard clapping, and when they turned around, a crowd had gathered. Apparently they had given quite a show. Vaughn grabbed her hand and they ran out of the Forte de Copacabana laughing like teenagers.     *****     They had dinner at a small cafe’ on the boardwalk and walked down to the water. She pulled him down next to her, the tide lapping at their feet. “Do you really think it’s going to be over soon?” she asked, tracing patterns in the damp sand with her finger. “I hope so. Your father seemed cautiously optimistic, but I think the end is definitely in sight,” he said with a sigh. “What are you going to do? After I mean.” She pulled her knees to her chest and stared out at the Atlantic. “I don’t know. I didn’t think about it, in case it never happened, you know? I still want to teach, but I might need a few years to recover from all this. Travel, maybe. I’ve been all over the world and haven’t really seen much of it beyond airports and hotels.” “And where do I fit in?” he asked, half afraid to hear the answer. Leaning over, she kissed him very softly on the cheek. “I don’t expect you to give up your life for me. I want you to be with me, but I’ll respect any decision you make, including staying with the CIA, but when this is over, I’m out.” She looked down at her watch. “It’s late; we should head back to the hotel.” She stood up and brushed off her skirt and took one last look at the calm of the ocean, trying to burn this moment into her mind forever.     ***** “Do you want to come in?” she asked as she inserted the key card in the door. He knew he shouldn’t, that once he got another taste of her, he’d never leave. “Sure, for a minute,” he said, closing the door. She opened the window and a cool breeze blew past her. Standing there, looking out, she felt peaceful and safe. She heard him speak from behind her. “Sydney,” he said, his voice thick with desire. Closing the distance between them, he kissed her hard. He snaked his hand around the back of her neck and tangled his fingers in her hair as she began to unbutton his shirt, all the time making their way toward the bed. When they got there he dragged himself away from her and tried to get control. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret this later.” She reached behind her and unzipped her skirt. It slid off her hips and pooled at her feet. Stepping out of it, she answered him. “I could never regret this.” Grabbing the hem of her tank top, she pulled it over her head. The moonlight reflecting off her skin made her look like a goddess. She undid her bra and added it to the growing pile of clothes. Pressing her body against him she slipped his shirt off and flung it away as he dropped tiny kisses from her collarbone to her shoulder. She reached down between them and leisurely undid his zipper. He moaned into her neck as she wrapped her hand around his erection. That sound was almost enough to send her over the edge. He quickly shed the pants and tugged her down onto the bed. He captured her wrists and held them above her head as he caressed and kissed her breasts. Agonizingly slow, he kissed and licked his way down to the edge of her white lace underwear, the last barrier. She bucked her hips as he slipped them down and tossed then away. Her skin was on fire everywhere he touched her and when he put his mouth on her, the slow burn that was building inside became an inferno.   She shuddered as he crawled back up and slammed his mouth on hers, and she tasted sticky sweetness. He nudged her legs apart and entered her slowly, his strokes torturing her. He was lost in the moment, this moment he’d been dreaming of for so long, her legs encircling him, his name on her lips. Taking advantage, she pulled herself up into a sitting position, winding her arms around his neck and moving her hips in time with his. He moved harder, faster now because he was close and she herself was nearing the edge again. Screaming his name, she came and seconds later he followed, trembling. Unwilling to separate, they stayed entwined as they both lay back and fell into a heavy sleep.     ***** The first thing she noticed was the lack of warmth. Opening her eyes she wondered where he went. “Michael,” she called. Then she noticed his clothes were gone and her purse was open. The modem was gone. A wave of panic swept over and she called the front desk. “Yes, hello. Did Mr. Grayson in room 474 check out?” She heard the clicking of computer keys and the voice answered, “Yes, Ms. Cole, he did at around 6am this morning.” Thanking her, she hung up and started to pack, not noticing the tears rolling down her cheeks. *****       It was almost 5 when she finished the story. “So, when I got back to LA they put me in a safehouse for a couple of weeks. No one knew where Vaughn was, not even my father. It was like he vanished. I was a total mess. Once I came home, Francie and Will tried to help, but I didn’t want it. Everywhere I went I was reminded of him, so I decided to leave town. Francie had gone to a wedding in San Francisco and Will was managing the restaurant for her. I only told my father that I was leaving so he wouldn’t think I was dead. I packed my stuff and drove all the way here in 4 days. This building belongs to a friend of my father’s, and he set me up here. I got the job at the bar, met you, and well, you know the rest,” Sydney said as she took the glasses to the sink and dropped the now empty vodka bottle into the trash . Jax stood up and stretched. “You’re right. That is a crazy story, but it explains a lot. Am I right in thinking Vaughn had green eyes?” “Yeah, he did. I guess I’m still working out that issue,” she said with a smile. “So, now that you know my deep dark secret I have to ask you a favor.” “Anything,” said Jax. She picked up the photos again. “I need to stay with you for a few days, until I figure out who sent me these.” “Of course, mi casa es su casa,” she said grinning. “But do I call you Jordan or Sydney or what?”     Part 5 She opened the door to her apartment and a blast of hot air hit her. It was like stepping into a furnace. “At least I remembered to take out the garbage,” she said to herself. Dropping her bag in the middle of the floor, she went to the window and flipped the air conditioner’s switch. It sputtered and chugged, finally churning out cool air. She leaned down and put her face right in front of it, hoping the air would freeze the thoughts burning in her brain. Staying with Jax had been a mistake. Jax asked a lot of questions, in spite of her promise not to push. She wanted to know everything about Will and Francie and what her life with them had been like. Sydney found herself telling stories, remembering things long forgotten. Things like their road trip to Las Vegas, where Will lost all their money at the craps table, Francie had to max out her credit card to get a cheap motel room and buy the gas for the drive back, and she’d gotten a speeding ticket going 100 miles an hour through Death Valley on the way to LA. Like the Christmases she spent with Will and his family, since her father was always indisposed, and the Saturdays at the beach with Francie. She had no idea how much she’d missed them. The wedding photos were especially painful, knowing she should have been there, helping Francie get ready and calming her last-minute nerves. She smiled and wondered exactly how her friend had met, let alone married Eric. And Will? Was he happy? She was almost positive that he was the one who sent the pictures. Her father knew better than to pull a stunt like that, and she was sure Weiss had his hands full with Francie. Her conversation at the bar with Luke today had confirmed her suspicions. She’d opened the door to his office without knocking. Behind the desk sat 6’3” and 280 lbs. of angry ex-biker. She knew she could take him. Probably. He spoke without looking up from his paperwork. “Lord, you go off on another customer, that’s it. I’m sick of your s***. Consider this your last warning. You’ve been nothing but trouble since you got here and on top of that kid the other night, I got people sniffin’ around here, asking questions,” he scoffed. “You oughta be thanking your lucky stars Jax vouched for you. You can come back tomorrow at 2. You’re pulling a double, and that kid’s drinks are comin’ outta your check.” She had stopped listening to him a few sentences back. Her mind was whirling with possibilities. “What do you mean, asking questions? What kind of questions?” “Some guy came in 2, 3 days ago askin’ about you. Who you were, how long had you been working here, stuff like that. I figured he’d seen you here one night and wanted to ask you out or something. I told him it was none of his goddamn business and if he wanted to know he could ask you for himself.” he said, proudly. “What did he look like, do you remember?” she cautiously asked. Luke shrugged, “He was about 6 feet, medium build, dark hair and blue eyes. He wasn’t a college kid either, he was older. Late 20’s, early 30’s maybe. Why?” She tried to shove back the panic that was threatening to overcome her. “No reason. Thought maybe it was someone I knew.” She moved toward him and gave him her sweetest smile. “I’m really sorry, Luke. This is a bad time of year for me. My mother died in the summer. I get a little crazy,” she said, the lies tripping off her tongue. “Well, yeah...sorry about that.” His expression softened as she moved towards the door. “Be here at 2 sharp tomorrow, okay?” She nodded, “No problem, boss.” The shrill ring of her cell phone brought her back to reality. Jumping away from the window, she dug through her bag and answered without seeing who it was. “Hello?” Silence. “Hello? Is anyone there?” she said with a steadiness in her voice that belied the dread in her heart. A deep male voice answered. “Meet me in Grand Central Station on Track 14 in one hour.” The line was dead before she could answer.     *****       He hung up and leaned back against the phone booth. Meeting in public was better, he reasoned to himself. After leaving the photos under her door he’d gone back to his hotel room and slept for almost an entire day. Tracking her down had proved to be more work than he thought. All he had to go on was a P.O. box address. One night he had dropped in on Jack unexpectedly and found him in his study working on what looked like bills of some kind. He vaguely remembered Sydney once telling him her father had an old friend who lived in New York City. On a whim he took all his vacation time and booked a ticket. He spent the first week sitting in a Starbucks across the street from the post office, looking for anyone who even remotely resembled her. Early that Friday morning he saw her. Her hair was short and strawberry blond and she was dressed in the standard New York uniform - black tank top, capris, sandals and big sunglasses, but that walk was clearly identifiable. He kept a respectable distance behind her and eventually figured out where she lived and where the bar was. He was surprised how careless she had become and it worried him. It was too temping to call Jack, so he took to leaving his cell at the hotel. He hadn’t planned on leaving the pictures when he did, but he lashed out at her, angry that she’d taken a stranger home. It was irrational, but he never could think straight when it came to her. She’d been out of work for two days when he went in to ask about her. He tried to keep it light, nothing specific. He was across the street when she went in today and the look on her face told him she knew. It was time to make a move, before she ran again. Looking at his watch, he started walking uptown, trying to figure out what he was going to say when he finally saw her.     *****     She arrived at Grand Central with a few minutes to spare. There were a lot of people going in and out, easy to get lost in the crowd. She was sure she looked odd, wearing a cardigan in the 96 degree heat, but there was no easy way to conceal the shoulder holster, just in case her mystery person was of the not-so-friendly variety. She had wanted to call her father, but something told her not to. She forced herself to walk slowly to the track. The incoming train was arriving, and people were swarming out in the opposite direction. Near the end of the track she saw a man in a baseball hat, reading a book. He made no move to board the train. She went towards him, her face a mask of calm. He didn’t turn, even when he heard her approach. “Excuse me?” she said. The man turned and looked at her. Behind the hat and blue contacts was the unmistakable face of Michael Vaughn. At that moment she did the only thing she could. She ran.     *****       Part 6 Her pulse was thundering in her ears and all she could feel was the gun thumping against her ribs. Madison Avenue was crowded, but she easily zigzagged through the crowds. She knew there was a train station close by but couldn’t remember exactly where. She usually avoided the subway, but for this she would make an exception. He was close behind her now, shouting her name, telling her to stop. But she couldn’t. This was too much for her to handle. The entrance was two blocks away. She was about to cross the street when she felt someone grab her wrist. Using the momentum, she spun and threw a right hook, which Vaughn handily avoided. He pulled her closer to him as she struggled to get the gun from the holster. “You might not want to do that. I think we’ve drawn enough attention to ourselves,” he stated cautiously. She saw two women in suits and a middle aged man looking on. The man came forward and asked Sydney, “Are you all right? Is he bothering you?” “I’m fine, thanks. We’re rehearsing for a play,” she answered, thinking fast. The man nodded suspiciously, and gave Vaughn one last look, but moved on. She pulled her wrist away from him and glared, waiting for an explanation. “We need to talk,” he began awkwardly. “No, we don’t. I have nothing to say to you,” Sydney said as she turned and began to cross the street. He stepped in front of her and said, “Don’t you want to know what happened in Rio?” A look of pain flashed across her face. He knew it was a low blow, but at least she’d stopped running. She nodded toward the entrance to a small park. They walked side by side and he had to suppress the urge to reach for her hand. He followed her to a bench near the playground. She sat down at one end and looked up at him. “You have ten minutes,” she said flatly. He took a deep breath and just looked at her for a second. She looked different. The lines around her eyes were a little deeper now and her eyes didn’t light up like they used to. It was killing him, knowing he was the reason. “I want you to know I’m sorry,” he started, but she interrupted. “I don’t need your apology. I want an explanation and then I’m leaving.” She shifted away from him, watching a child on the swings. “When you left Maldonado’s house that day, did you check for tails?” “Of course I did. Why do you ask?” He reached into his bag and handed her a folder. An involuntary gasp escaped her lips as she flipped through the 8 x 10 photos. It was them, in Rio. In the lobby of the hotel, kissing at the Forte de Copacabana, at dinner, on the beach, and the last one was Vaughn clearly entering her room. He began to speak before she could ask any questions. “That morning, your father called my cell phone. Antonio had sent someone to follow you and once they had the pictures, they figured out I was a CIA agent. Sloane thought you had betrayed the Alliance. Your father convinced him that you had nothing to do with it, just in the wrong place at the wrong time. He called to warn me they were coming to kill me. He told me to take the modem and get to a safehouse as soon as possible.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you wake me up? Why didn’t you leave me a note, something?” “Did someone from the hotel come to your room that morning? Asking to come in and check the pipes?” “Yeah,” she said, clearly confused, “I think so.” He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair. “That was Security Section.” He fiddled with the hat, waiting for her to respond. “And then?” “I was in the safe house in Rio for a month. After that the CIA sent me to another safe house in Mexico City. Devlin wanted to make sure the Alliance was done before they’d let me come home. When I got back, things were complicated. My mother was a wreck. The CIA told her I was missing in action, which she took as dead. She even held a memorial,” he said with a sigh. “I know. I was there,” she answered sullenly. It was a day she wouldn’t soon forget. It was pouring rain and she stood in the back with Will. There were a lot of people, some she recognized and some she didn’t. The worst part was when she saw Alice in the front row with Vaughn’s mother playing the grieving girlfriend. She left for New York the next day. When she didn’t say anymore, he went on. “You were gone. Your father didn’t know where you were and neither did Will or Francie. She said she came home and all your stuff was gone - except one thing.” He reached into his bag and pulled out the antique frame he’d given her for Christmas the first year they’d met. She stared at the ground, not wanting him to see the tears threatening to run down her cheeks. She spoke without looking up. “What do you want from me, Vaughn?” Her voice was raw with emotion and he desperately wanted to hold her and comfort her, but he went on. “No one knew where you were, and it was no use trying to get any information from your father. I tried everything I could think of. I ran all of your aliases through every database we had available. I hacked into phone records and credit card records. It was like you never existed.” She looked at him then, a small smile on her lips. “All that training finally came in handy.” Leaning back on the bench she sighed deeply. “Why now? Why after all this time?” “I realized that I needed to see you, to see if you were okay,” he said, twisting to face her. “I’m leaving the CIA. A friend of mine from college is starting a law firm in New Mexico and asked me to join him. I accepted. I’ll be out by the end of the month.” he said. “What do you want me to say? I’ll drop everything and go with you to Nowhere, New Mexico? I’m happy here. I have a life, friends, a job,” she said defiantly. He stared at her in disbelief. “Is this how you envisioned your life? Working in some bar, living in a tiny apartment and fucking random men you bring home from a club?” He watched her posture immediately change. This was the Sydney he remembered. “You have no right to judge me. I’ve made some bad decisions, but I faced the consequences. You had a choice that morning in Rio. We could have gotten out of there together, but no, you ran and left me there alone. I almost died inside. I’m not proud of what I did, but it’s done. That part of my life is over, and if you think so little of me, then maybe what we had is over too,” she said, turning away from him. “Do you think it was easy for me to leave you there? Not knowing if either one of us was going to make it back alive? I sat for almost three months in that safe house with no word. All they would tell me was everything was going as planned and I would be released soon. You were the first person I tried to call when I got off the plane in LA. Do you how hard it is, knowing that I’m the reason you left everything behind?” He stood up and tossed a manila envelope down on the bench. “That’s for you. There’s a few things in there you might want to see. Look me up if you’re ever in Nowhere, New Mexico.” She sat there for a moment before she turned and said, “Vaughn, I’m...” Her voice trailed off as she looked around. He was gone; she was talking to an empty bench. **** Part 7 It had been almost 3 months since Vaughn had found her. The sticky summer had given way to a brisk fall. She still hadn’t opened the envelope. Hands shaking, she tried to tear it open again, but she stopped herself. She didn’t know if it was because she was afraid of what was in it or of what wasn’t. Groaning in frustration she flung it across the room and it hit the wall with a thud, sliding to the floor. The outside of the envelope was beginning to look worn, the ink of her name smudged and runny, the corners bent and ragged. It looked the way Sydney felt. She still dreamed of him--his hands scorching her flesh, their bodies joined, but now the dreams ended with death. The last one was the worst. That one ended with him slumped on top of her, a hole blown through his chest. She screamed his name as she’d woken up, the metallic taste of blood still in her mouth. The ticking of the clock on the night stand seemed deafening in the silent room. 3:47 am it read. She spent most nights like this now; waking from a nightmare, trying to convince herself to open that envelope, and ending up curled up in the armchair, staring out the window, watching the city that never sleeps wake up for another day. She smiled at the irony of that. Looking at the calendar she realized it was Monday. She always called her father on Monday. Picking up her cell, she dialed his home number. “Bristow,” he answered on the second ring. “Hi, it’s me. Did I wake you?” she asked cautiously. When she heard papers rustling at the other end she had her answer. “No, of course not.” An awkward silence filled the line. “How are you?” “Fine. You?” “The same. You know how things are here,” he said and she thought she detected a hint of a smile in his voice. “Dad, why didn’t you tell me about Vaughn?” she blurted out before she could stop herself. The tension was tangible, as if he was standing in the room with her. He took a deep breath before answering. “Because I was trying to protect you, Sydney.” “Protect me from what?” she asked, her anger bubbling over. “From the Alliance, from the CIA and from yourself. You and Agent Vaughn made a very foolish mistake. You almost destroyed 3 years of work and we couldn’t risk it,” Jack stated. She was up now, pacing the room. “How could you do that to me? To his mother? She had a funeral for fuck’s sake!” “Sydney, I had no idea that Marie was going to go that far. She was told Michael was missing in action. I cannot be held accountable for how she interpreted that. By the time I found out what was happening you had left.” “Do you have any idea what I’ve gone through?” she asked as she picked up the envelope from the floor. “It was Danny all over, but worse. Not only that, but I had to lie to his mother about who I was. I looked her in the face and pretended I was just a friend, knowing that I was partly to blame.” Without thinking, she ripped open the flap, sending papers and photos tumbling to the floor. A photo of Francie standing in front of a two story blue house caught her eye first. She knew that house. They had driven by it a million times, and Francie was always saying how someday she would own it. “Sydney? Sydney, are you there?” her father shouted into the phone. “Dad, I need to call you back, something’s come up,” she said distractedly. Jack was bewildered. “Are you all right?” “I don’t know yet. I’ll call you before you leave for the office. Bye,” she said, hanging up before he could respond. She sat down on the floor and sorted out all the pictures. They must be from the day they moved in, she thought. Will and Eric carrying in the sofa that used to be in her and Francie’s living room. Francie in the huge white kitchen, surrounded by boxes and bags. Another of Will, trying to balance a box on his head. One from a distance of Francie and Eric on the front lawn, Will mugging behind them. The last one, taken later in the evening, of the happy couple, Will, and another woman she didn’t recognize eating a makeshift dinner on the back porch. It hit her then who had been taking the pictures. She barely noticed the tears running down her face as she picked up the pages in Will’s familiar scrawl. Syd, If you’re reading this I guess Mike found out where you’ve been hiding. You must be wondering what the hell’s been going on in your absence. If you have the pictures, you know that Francie and Eric got hitched. They are so opposite it’s not funny, but they kind of balance each other out. I guess I introduced them. I was meeting Eric and Mike one night to watch a Kings game and she insisted on coming along. They started bickering from the moment we got there, something about marinara sauce and the next thing I knew, I found him in our kitchen the next morning, trying to figure out to make coffee with Francie’s espresso machine. The wedding was great. Francie was freaked, but she made it through just fine. She even invited your dad. He was the closest thing to you, I guess. I’m still working with the agency. It’s not fun, but it pays well. I’m seeing this girl, Andrea. She’s a manager at the restaurant. We’ve been together almost 8 months and I think she might be the one. (No one will ever replace you though. Ha Ha!) I know what happened with you and Mike. Not all the details, but I know enough. I can’t begin to imagine what you must have been going through. He still loves you, Syd. What happened is eating him up inside. After you left we were all hurt and confused, but he was the worst. He was quiet and withdrawn. Eric practically had to drag him out of his apartment. He turned down handling another agent, and your father had to step in so he wouldn’t get demoted. I’m sure you know that he’s leaving at the end of August for Santa Fe. This friend of his is starting a law firm out there, and he asked Mike to be his partner. Your dad and Devlin tried to fight him when he gave them his resignation, but Mike held his ground. Listen to what he has to tell you. He never meant for this to happen. We miss you Syd. It’s not the same without you. Come home. -Will That was enough to undo her. The tears were flowing freely now. She missed them more than she ever realized. The fact that they would still want to be her friends after she walked out on them was unfathomable to her. She picked up the last thing on the floor. It was a sealed letter. She opened it carefully and unfolded the single sheet that was inside. It was an address and phone number in New Mexico. ******       Part 8       She shifted uncomfortably in the cramped seat, hair stuck to the back of her neck.  The circulation had left her legs awhile back and there was still two hours left.  Flying was definitely something she didn’t miss.       The last few days had been a blur.  After reading Will’s letter for the hundredth time, she still had no idea what she was going to do.  Part of her desperately wanted to go back, try to remake the life that had been shattered the day she found Danny in that bathtub.  The other part of her screamed to throw the letter away and just let it go, not to chase after dreams that might never come true.       She went through the day distractedly, almost as if she was watching from somewhere else.  It was a feeling she was familiar with from her days at SD-6.  By early evening she found herself walking uptown and to the park where she’d fought with Vaughn.       If she closed her eyes, she could almost picture him sitting there, but it was different.  Now she knew that he’d been hurting as badly as she had.  But he didn’t run away.  She was pulled away from her thought by the vibrating cell phone in her pocket.       “Hello?”       “Sydney, you were supposed to call back hours ago.  Where the hell have you been?” asked Jack, his usually neutral tone edged with panic.        “Dad, I’m sorry,” she said, “It’s just........I don’t know.”       He wasn’t accustomed to hearing her this way.  There was a softness in her voice he hadn’t heard in years, since before her ill-fated mission to Brazil.  She spoke her next question so softly he had to ask her to repeat it.       “Do you think.....I mean, I was wondering if I could come home?”  There was silence on the line, and for a minute she thought they’d been disconnected.  “Dad,” she asked again tentatively, “Are you still there?”       “Yes, I’m here,” Jack replied, his voice creaking with long-forgotten emotion.  “You know are always welcome here, Sydney, but are you sure?”       Looking up she saw a couple pass by, holding hands.  She deserved the chance to be happy.  They both did.       “Yes, more sure than I have been in a long time.”       *****       That had been the easy part.  She went back to the apartment and immediately began packing.  She had to move fast, before the logical part of herself realized what she was doing and tried to talk her out of it.  The airlines were called, ticket booked.  No one was picking up at the bar, so she left a message for Luke to call her as soon as he could.  Dragging out her suitcases, she threw things out of the closet and dresser, not bothering to fold anything.  She was in the middle of clearing out the bathroom when the doorbell rang.       “Hey there.” It was Jax, carrying a huge bag of Chinese takeout.  She walked in and stopped short, taking in the carnage.  She slowly turned back to Sydney.  “What the hell is going on?  This place looks like a tornado hit it.”                         Taking the bag from her, she shoved back the suitcases and cleared a space on the floor for them to sit down.        “I have to tell you something,” she began.                         Jax looked at her warily.  “This isn’t like the last time you said that, is it?”                                         “No,” she said, handing her the chow mien.  “I’m going back to LA.”                                         “What?  Why?” she asked, alarmed. “Is someone after you?”                         She chuckled and reached over one of the piles, pulling out the envelope.  “I finally opened it.”                                         “I told you, you should have opened it,” Jax replied smugly.  She was leafing through the pictures when Sydney handed her Will’s letter.  Jax didn’t bother to hide her tears as she read it, shaking her head and sighing.  “That is the greatest thing I’ve ever read.  They must really care about you,” she said as she unfolded the last page.  “Oh my God!  Is this what I think it is?”         “Vaughn’s address and phone number, yeah,” she said wistfully.       “Well, what are you waiting for?  Call him, tell him that you’re coming,” Jax demanded as she speared a piece of sweet and sour chicken.  “That’s what you’re going to do, right?”       “The thing is, it’s complicated.  We said some pretty harsh things to each other and he has this whole other life now and...”       “And what?  He obviously cared enough about you to keep trying to find you when you made it clear you didn’t want to be found and, let’s be honest, every guy you went home with was just a watered down copy of him.  He waited three years, three months won’t change anything.  Don’t let this slip away.”       Sydney smiled at her.  “Jax, when did you get so wise?”       “Dunno,” she said with a shrug, “somewhere between sleeping with my Bio professor and dumping Jerry the unwashed, I guess.”  She got up and grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator and said, “I really am going to miss you, you know.”       “No you won’t,” Syd responded with a smirk, “Now you don’t have to split your tips and you can come visit anytime.”       “Please, you know I will!  Too bad your friend Will has a girlfriend, he’s pretty cute,” she quipped.       She was still smiling when she heard the flight attendant announce their descent into LAX.  Snapping her tray table up, she took a deep breath and said a quick prayer that there was still time to start again.         *****     He stood by the window, watching the snow fall softly over the valley.  It was still alien to him, the way it seemed to drift lazily from the clouds.  For some reason it made him think of Sydney.       It wasn’t surprising; she was never very far from his thoughts.  The move and the new job distracted him for a while but soon enough The Sydney Show was playing again on the endless loop in his head.  He regretted the way he left things in New York, but his pride had gotten the best of him.  He replayed it over and over, wishing he could change it.  Knowing her, she probably tossed the envelope in the trash on her way out of the park and never looked back.       Besides that, he was adjusting to his new life pretty well.  He had a small two bedroom house with a huge yard for Donovan and decent job that didn’t require putting his life on the line every day.       McKinley & Vaughn had only been open three months but was already becoming profitable; thanks to the clients Sam had taken with him when he left his last job.  Sam had been his roommate as an undergrad and all through law school.  Sam was actually the one who encouraged him to apply to the CIA; despite the fact that everyone else said he was insane.  When his call came about Santa Fe, Vaughn jumped at it.  Eric was married, Will practically was, and he didn’t know if he could stand another dinner with his mother harping on about settling down, no matter how much he loved her.        The CIA was not pleased with his decision and he had to use the Sydney card with Jack to get him to relent.  He was tired of it all and it didn’t feel right without her.  Eric was upset, but he understood and even offered him his favorite yo-yo for luck.       There was a soft knock at his office door.  Turning from the window he called out.       “Come in!”       Layla, one of the paralegals, came in, her arms full of file folders.  “Here’s the stuff you asked for.  It’s kind of a mess.  I think the movers spilled some of the file boxes and just started shoving things in anywhere,” she said with a smile.       “No problem, I’m sure can figure it out,” he answered, his hand brushing hers as he took them from her.  She flushed a little at the contact and stepped back.       “Okay then, let me know if you need anything else,” Layla stammered, practically running out the door.       She was good looking, no doubt.  About 5' 4", with dark hair and olive skin, he was the exact opposite of Syd.  Sam had been after him to ask her out, but he wasn’t ready for that yet.  He shook the thoughts away as he reached for the files.       ******       By the time he finished it was almost 5:30 and he could hear people calling their good nights.  Setting the paperwork aside, he stood up and stretched.  It was still snowing, but it had slowed to barely a trickle.  The door opened and he saw Layla there, coat in hand.       “Michael, a couple of us are going out for a drink.  Sam asked me to see if you wanted to join us?”       He smiled at her.  What can it hurt, it’s just a drink, he thought.       “Sure, I’ll be right out.”       Part 9       She could feel her heart pounding in her ears.  Her hands, still gripping the wheel, were clammy.  With trepidation she pulled the car over to the curb and shifted into park.  The keys in her hand felt heavy and awkward, and she took a slow, deep breath to steady herself before she opened the door.       The sun had almost set and she could feel the coolness creep into the air as she crossed the street.  The Jeep, now painted red, was parked in the driveway behind a silver Beetle and a black SUV. There were voices coming from the back and she was tempted to sneak away rather than interrupt their lives again.  Shaking off the thought, she walked toward the door, looking more confident than she felt.       As soon as she knocked, she heard Francie’s voice from inside.  “Could someone get that?  My hands are full,” she called.  There were light footsteps and then the door flew open.  Standing there was a woman she couldn’t place holding one of the wineglasses she’d given Francie one year for Christmas.       “Can I help you?” she inquired.       Sydney recognized the woman from the photos. It was Andrea, Will’s girlfriend.  She cleared her throat and said, “Hi, I’m looking for Francie.”       Andrea raised her eyebrow skeptically and called over her shoulder.  “France, it’s for you, it’s....”       “Sydney,” she supplied.       “It’s someone named Sydney.”  All of a sudden she could hear a flurry of movement.  A screen door slammed open, a pan hit the counter and the murmur of a television suddenly snapped off.  As if in some English farce Francie, Will, and Eric all arrived at the same time and tried to squeeze past each other in the now crowded foyer.  When they got the door, everyone fell silent.       “Hey guys,” Sydney said quietly.  Francie managed to slip through the gridlock at the door and pulled her into a tight hug.       “My God girl, where have you been?” she asked, her voice trembling.       “It’s a long story,” Sydney answered, chuckling softly. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”       “No, of course not,” Will said, finally finding his voice.  “I can’t believe it’s really you is all.”       Sydney nodded ruefully.  “Yep, it’s me.  The packaging is different,” she said touching her newly dark blonde hair, “but the inside is pretty much the same as always.”  She turned to Andrea, who was watching them in fascination.  “You must think I’m a total clod.  I’m Sydney, nice to meet you,” she said, extending her hand.       “Andrea.  It’s nice to put the face with the name,” she replied.       She looked at Eric, still standing in the door.  “Hey,” she said.       “ ‘Hey’?  Three years away and all I get is a ‘hey’?  C’mere,” he said, laughing.  “We weren’t expecting you, but you know how Francie likes to cook for an army.  There’s plenty, if you want to stay for dinner.”       Francie looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.  “Of course she’s staying.  Right, Syd?”       “I’d like that,” she said.       ******     Dinner went more smoothly than she anticipated.  There were no pressing questions about where she’d been, no pointed remarks.  The only uneasy moment came when Andrea briefly mentioned Michael.  The cloudy looks that passed over her friends’ faces confirmed that she was talking about Vaughn.  Will quickly changed the subject and the instant passed.  She volunteered to help with the dishes, but Francie shooed her away, claiming Will and Andrea had plenty of experience taking orders from her in the kitchen.           She picked up her glass and went out to the back porch.  It was a cool night, but nowhere near the frigid weather she’d left back in New York.  She was so lost in thought she didn’t notice Eric slip quietly into the chair next to her.       “You’re getting a lot better at that, you know,” she said with a grin.       “Yeah, well, it does come in handy once in a while.”  They sat in silence, but the air was thick with unanswered questions.  Without looking at her he spoke.       “When are you going to New Mexico?”       She shook her head.  “That is the 64 million dollar question, isn’t it?  You wanna know the truth?  I don’t know if I’m going or not.  Maybe it’s just better if I let him go.  After everything we’ve both been through, maybe it’s time to give up this happily-ever-after game we’re playing.”       He turned and looked at her. “Do you really think so?  Forgive me if I think you might be trying to take the easy way out.”       She deserved that, she knew.  “I’m not really sure he’d give me another chance after what happened in New York.  We didn’t really part on the best terms.”        “You both are so damn stubborn, no wonder things went the way they did.  You wanna know the most important thing I’ve learned since I married Francie?       “How to make the world’s best bouillabaisse?’ she quipped.       “Very funny,” he said, shooting her a look.  “But sadly, no.  I still have a hard enough time trying to figure out how to use the coffee maker.”  Grabbing her hand he said, “I’ve learned that relationships take work.  Nothing is easy or simple.  I’m willing to admit that the circumstances that you have to work with aren’t the greatest, but if you really want it, you find a way.  You wouldn’t have come back here if you thought the possibility was closed forever.”  She stood up, trying to hide the emotions that this subject had stirred up.       “I just don’t understand how this all got so out of hand,” she cried out in frustration.       “I don’t have an answer for that, kiddo.  Listen, life’s too short.  You both owe it to yourselves to find out if this can be something.  So get your ass on a plane to Santa Fe,” he finished, a twinkle in his eye.       She smiled back at him and asked, “You really think this is going to work out?”       “Let me tell you a little story.  You remember the first time you came to the CIA?  I was the actually the one they called first to speak to you.  I got one glimpse of the hair and the chipmunk cheeks and went straight back down the hall and promised Vaughn my firstborn if he’d take this week’s nutjob.  You have to understand, two weeks before I’d spent 8 hours debriefing this kid who thought he was the missing Lone Gunman.  I couldn’t take another wacko.  So out he goes to meet you and I’m not kidding you, he came back a different man.  Every time anyone even so much as mentioned your name something changed in him.  It was like you were making him a better, stronger person.  When he came back and you weren’t here, I won’t lie, he was devastated.  I guess it made what happened when he came to see you that much harder to take.”  Weiss slowly stood up before turning to face here.   “You have to go and at least set things straight.  You both owe each other that.”       Francie stuck her head out the door and called, “Hey, what are you two whispering about out here?  You have to get in here and help me kick Will’s butt at Monopoly.”       “Can I be the banker?” Sydney asked with a grin.       “Oh, you’re funny,” Francie remarked dryly as she shut the door behind them.       ******       After another bottle of wine and one long, brutal game later, she knew it was time to say her goodnights.       She hugged Francie and Eric tightly and promised Francie they would have a very long catch up session, including watching the dreaded wedding video she’d heard so much about.       Will offered to walk her to her car.  When they got outside, they walked in companionable silence to her car.  As she went to put the key in the lock he said, “I’m glad you changed your mind.”       “It was your letter that did it, you know.  I don’t think I would have been able to face any of you without it,” she said.       He chortled softly.  “Just thought you might need some gentle persuasion.  I’ve been told I have a way with words.”       Hugging him, she whispered gently, “Thank you.”           “Anytime, Syd.  Anytime.”       Closing the door, she drove off into the clear night.       *****       When she got back, her father was sitting in the living room reading.       “Hello, Sydney,” he said, closing his book.       “Hey, Dad,” she replied on her way up the stairs.  Things had been strained between them since she’d been back, and he knew it was time to set the record straight.  Following her, he stopped her before she shut the door.       “Sydney, there’s something I need to tell you,” he began awkwardly.     She tried to cut him off. “Dad, please can we just leave it alone for tonight?”       “No, you asked me a question and you deserve an honest answer.”  He sat down at the foot of the bed, trying to summon the courage to go on.  “I didn’t tell you the truth about Vaughn because I was scared.”       She was stunned.  “Scared?  Scared of what?  The Alliance?”       “Yes, partly of that, that they would kill you and me, if necessary.  But, in hindsight I think I was afraid that if it came down to a choice between him and I, you would choose him.  I thought that if you knew where he was that you might try to find him and go into hiding.  I couldn’t risk losing you.”       Sydney sat across from her father in shock.  There were a million things she wanted to ask and say to him, but something was telling her to wait.       “I know now how selfish it was.  I really didn’t know how badly you would take it.  Your feelings were much deeper than I presumed them to be.  I was going to tell you after the fiasco with the memorial, but by the time I got there you had already left.  It was easier for me to let you think he was dead than admit my own guilt and for that I’m truly sorry.  I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I needed to tell you the truth.”  He stood up to leave, but she stopped him.       “Dad, thank you for telling me the truth,” she said, squeezing his hand.  “I know how hard my being gone was on you.”  A moment passed between them, a moment of mutual understanding.  He moved towards the door, and she pulled her half unpacked suitcase back onto the bed.       “Still not settled in?” he asked.       She shook her head.  “It’s not that.  I’m going away for a few days.”       “With your friends?”       A small smile crept across her face.  “No, I’m going to Santa Fe.”       *****       The crash woke him from a dead sleep.  He grabbed for the gun in the nightstand and quietly crept downstairs to investigate.  He stopped before he reached the last step, listening intently.  Hearing nothing, he turned the corner and checked the living room.  He heard movement from the kitchen and noiselessly went to the door.  In the middle of the floor was Donovan, grinning happily.  He’d knocked the garbage can over.  Again.       Sighing loudly, he began to pick up the trash strewn across the floor.  “What am I going to do with you, you crazy mutt?  Huh?”  Once everything was put back where it belonged and the lid to the can sealed tightly back on he washed his hands and stared out the window.  He was watching the snow fall outside when he heard a voice from behind him.       “Michael, come back to bed,” Layla said sleepily.                         Part 10       Why can’t we give ourselves one more chance     Why can’t we give love one more chance     Why can’t me give love, give love, give love     This is our last dance, this is our last dance     This is ourselves under pressure                           She slept fitfully in the unfamiliar bed, twisting the sheets around her legs as she tossed and turned.  The dreams she thought she’d left behind in New York were back with a vengeance.  Visions of Vaughn, buried deep inside of her, moaning in ecstasy...... and in the blink of and eye bleeding and mangled, her own body covered in their sweat and his blood, trying desperately to revive him and always failing.                         When the alarm finally rang she dragged herself into the bathroom.  The reflection looking back at her was not pretty.  There were dark circles under her eyes, and her pale skin looked sallow in the harsh light.  ‘If he can still want me like this, then it was meant to be,’ she thought as she leaned into the shower and turned on the water.                  She stood under the almost scalding spray and tried to rinse away the bloody picture from her mind's eye. Her hand reached out, searching for a moment before she realized that the shampoo was on the sink. The bathroom was tiny; she hardly had to lean out at all to reach the sink. It reminded her of New York, and she wondered for the millionth time if she was doing the right thing.     The rational part of her said that she was just nervous because she was so close to him now. The utterly irrational part of her told her to find a bar, get smashed and ride the cutest cowboy she could find all the way back to Los Angeles. But she knew she couldn't. She had to finish this.     Her stomach growled loudly as she finished dressing. She realized she hadn't eaten anything since the previous morning, at the airport with her father. His sudden confession the night before had cleared the air between them, but in her heart she knew he'd been right. She would have gone to the ends of the earth to find Vaughn, no matter what the risk. Now the only thing she was risking was her heart.     ************************************************************************************                     She checked her watch as she pulled open the door. It was a little before 9am. Knowing him, she wouldn’t have to wait long.            The receptionist looked up expectantly when she approached the desk.                  "Can I help you?"                              "Yes, I'm looking for Michael Vaughn. Is he in yet?"       The girl cocked her eyebrow and looked her up and down before answering. "No, he's not. Do you have an appointment?"       Sydney stared back, not intimidated. "No, I'm an old friend."           "Well, you can have a seat, he'll be here in the next few minutes," she stammered, clearly beaten at her own game.       She sank into a comfortable leather chair facing a huge picture window. The recent snow had made the city look like the front of a postcard. She could see the allure of this place after the insanity of his last few years in Los Angeles. She was pulled put of her thoughts by a familiar name.       "I don't think Donovan likes me very much," she heard a female voice say from behind her. She pulled a compact out of her purse and angled it so she could see over her shoulder without being conspicuous. A dark-haired woman was leaning casually on the reception desk. Their voices were quiet enough not to attract much attention, but she was sitting close enough to hear every word.       "You must have worn him out last night. He's never this late," giggled the receptionist. Sydney could feel the bile rising in her throat, but willed herself to be still.       "We were up pretty late. Donovan kept jumping up on the bed and trying to sleep in between us. I put my foot down and Michael finally put him outside," she said triumphantly. Desperate to stop this conversation, she cleared her throat loudly. When she saw the woman turn toward her she snapped the compact shut and stuck it back in her bag.       "Can I help you?" Layla asked as she came around the chair. She was dressed in an expensive-looking pale gray suit and high heels, hair slicked back in a low ponytail. Sydney had to resist the urge to punch her. She stood up from the chair instead and answered, "No, not unless you're Michael, which you're clearly not." The steely tone of voice that she had used on the receptionist wasn't quite as effective on her.       "I'm his assistant; I'm sure I can answer any questions you might have," she replied with a forced smile.       "Actually," Sydney said, "this is a personal matter and....."           "Sydney?" Vaughn's astonished tone cut her off before she could go any further.       She locked eyes with him, and all of a sudden she felt lightheaded. Backing up, she sat back down in the chair. Layla moved away as he rushed forward, that familiar look of concern on his face.       "Is everything all right?" His tone was light, but she knew the hidden meaning behind his words.       "Of course, everything's fine. I'm in town for a conference and I just thought I'd drop in and see you. I'm still not used to the high altitude, makes me a little dizzy," she replied, flashing him a smile. She looked down at the hand on her knee. Following her glance he quickly removed it, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. Recovering quickly, he stood up and looked at Layla.       "Would you mind holding my calls for a while?"       "Sure, no problem, boss," she said through gritted teeth.       ******     When they got to his office he went straight to the window. She shut the door behind her and waited for him to say something, anything.       "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.           She stared at his back, silently willing him to turn around and look at her. She was desperate to see if the concern he'd shown a moment ago was just for show, for any sign that he still cared. When she tried to answer it came out as softly as the question.       "I needed to see you. To tell you I'm sorry. To see if we could start over."     He shook his head at the irony of the situation. At the angle she was standing he could see her reflection in the thick pane of glass. Her hair was darker than when he last saw her, and she was wearing jeans and a soft white sweater. If he let it, his imagination could put that chain link of the warehouse behind her and pretend that no time had passed.       "I don't think we can, Syd. Too many things have happened, too much time has passed. I didn't realize until I left New York that maybe we’re both better off not knowing..." he trailed off. Before he could say anything else, he felt her presence right next to him. She was so close he could almost feel the heat from her body.       "You don't really believe that," she said, looking at his mirror image in the glass.       "I don't know what to believe," he said with a sigh. "I thought that once I tracked you down, I could explain and we'd live happily ever after. But we can't erase the last 3 years, and I can't pretend that it didn't hurt."       She could feel that anger begin to rise. "I thought you were dead. What did you expect me to do, take a vow of chastity? It wasn't the smartest decision, but I'm not going to be ashamed of it or myself. I thought I made that clear to you in New York," she snapped.       "You also made it clear you weren't interested in coming to Nowhere, New Mexico, but here you are," he said spitefully. Outside, the sky was beginning to fill with black rain clouds and huge clap of thunder filled the valley.       "It's not like you were quietly pining away all by yourself," she shot back. "I'm sure Layla is keeping you plenty busy these days."       He turned to her then, eyes wide with shock. "How did you know?"       "She has a big mouth. It's nice to see you're consistent, still mixing business with pleasure," she replied viciously.       "Don't bring her into this. This is about me and you," he said, a tone of warning in his voice. The rain was coming down in sheets now, bursting against the window. Neither one of them spoke, each waiting to see what the other would do next.       "I think you should go," he finally said, trying to keep his voice from betraying the turmoil he was feeling inside.       She spun on her heel and grabbed her bag. "I'll be gone by the morning. Have a nice life," she spat as the door slammed behind her.     ******     It was still pouring when she got back to the hotel. She had been keyed up all day and had driven around and around until she ran out of gas. She filled up the tank and made one more circle before she headed back.     She had her answer now. She was tired of playing fortune's fool. Michael Vaughn was in the past, and whatever she'd thought they'd shared was finished. Flipping on the heat she made a quick call to her father. She left a message with her flight information and stripped off her clothes to wash away the remnants of the day.     As she got out of the shower she heard a knock at the door. Wrapping the skimpy towel around her, she cautiously opened the door to see who it was. Her voice abandoned her as she recognized the soaking wet figure in the dim light.     “Vaughn.”       Part 11       “What are you.....”        Before she could finish her thought, he was kissing her, the heat from his lips searing into her.  The thin towel did nothing to protect her from the iciness of his torso pressed against her and she felt her nipples harden from the combined sensations.  She tried to pull back, to clear her head, but his hand coiled its way behind her neck and held her fast.  His other hand had worked its way inside her towel and was slowly stroking her hip.  She felt a flush of warmth at her core and ground her hips into him unconsciously.        The slam of the door yanked her back to reality.  Twisting out of his grip, she took him in.  His clothes were clinging to him and she could see the outline of the man that had haunted her dreams for so many nights.  When she finally met his gaze, she wasn’t surprised at what she found, a mixture of desire, anger, and an almost silent desperation.  She was torn.  The urge to escape was primal.   Suddenly, she felt her back against the wall.       His breath was hot against her ear. “Don’t think, just feel.”  His mouth was on hers again and she felt his hand slide inside the towel to slowly stroke her ribs.  His hands were more callused than she remembered.  He was making tight circles, each time passing closer and closer and when he grazing the sensitive skin on the underside of her breast she gasped into his mouth.  Hands she barely recognized as her own swiftly ripped open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.  Gliding her palm slowly across his tight stomach she explored the familiar planes of his body, testing herself to see if everything was the same as she remembered.       The heat was moving down her neck and she moaned as he sucked and nibbled at the sensitive skin at her collarbone.  She opened her eyes and saw his skin was still the same golden color and she kissed the freckles on his shoulder as he unwound the towel from her body.  His lips were traveling southward again and with one flick of his tongue over her aching nipple, she was flooded again with heat.  Hips surging forward, she groaned his name as he took her other nipple between his teeth, lightly nipping and licking until she thought her knees would buckle.  His hand had made its way down and was stroking the soft curls at her center.  Their eyes locked and she felt him grazing his fingers ever so slightly again her clit.  The vibration hummed through her entire body and she could feel the pressure slowly begin to build in her stomach.  Drawing her hips back, she hooked one finger through the belt loop on his visibly strained pants and pulled him toward the bed in the center of the room.  She fell back and he was above her, eyes searching, the surety of the moment before gone.  Before he could change his mind, she kissed him with all the desire that was spiraling inside of her.  Her hands went to remove the last article of clothing between them and found his hands already there.  She felt the heat of him immediately against her thigh and shifted her hips so he was just outside of her center.  In an unexpected move he slid back down her body, licking and kissing as he went.  His tongue swirled playfully around her navel, as his fingers scorched a path along her inner thigh.  She jolted as she felt his cool breath across her most sensitive spot.  It was fast replaced by the heat of his mouth, the night in Rio seeping into her mind, as his expertise brought her to the edge of release.  Wanting to hold on as long as possible, she drew him back up on top of her.       Letting her knees fall back, she tilted her pelvis forward, waiting for him to bury himself inside her.  Through half closed lids she saw him ask her permission with his eyes.  ‘Gentleman to the end,’ she thought.  She smiled and wrapped her legs around his back, urging him as far forward as she could.  That was all it took.  The next second she felt him inside of her, her muscles stretching and shifting to adjust to him.  He took the lead, his strokes lazy and slow and he bent his head to kiss and lick the sensitive place in the hollow of her collarbone.  The pressure inside of her was building again and he sped up, only to bring her to the edge and torture her already overwrought senses by starting to slow the pace once again.        Using his own momentum, she rolled her body so she was straddling him.  She grinned at the surprise in his eyes as she slowly began grinding against him.  One hand slid up her torso and grazed over her taunt nipples.  Catching one, he rolled it lightly between his thumb and forefinger and she felt heat spread through her again.  The other hand is still on her hip, to keep her steady, holding on so tight she knows there’ll be five bruises where his fingers are.  That familiar spark sweeps through her and she can feel him trying to hold himself back, to make it last as long as possible.  Riding him as hard as she can, she is suddenly overcome by the sensation of her spine turning to liquid as her body explodes in pleasure.  He’s right behind her, gasping her name.  Looking down at him, it takes a second to realize the blood is only in her mind.       *****     She woke up slowly, still stretched out against him. Light was seeping in through the blinds and cast over him in a soft golden glow. Closing her eyes, she tried to memorize the picture, legs tangled together in the ivory sheets. There was a scar on his upper thigh she'd never seen before and before she could stop herself, she ran her finger over the raised, red skin. It was jagged and she was still deciding if it was from a knife or a bullet when she felt him stir.       "Morning," he said sleepily. Automatically he pulled her closer and he felt her resist for a fraction of a second before giving in, her head resting on his chest.       "Where did you get that," she asked quietly.        He took a deep breath, not wanting to ruin the moment by bringing up the past. "I got it in Morocco, on my first mission after... after I got back. Your dad didn't think I was ready to back into the field yet, but I pushed and Kendall overrode him. Unfortunately, tuxedo pants aren't bulletproof. I was lucky I didn't bleed out in the van on the way to the hospital.”  Before she could respond, the alarm on the night stand blared, incoherent talk radio spilling into the room.  The fragile peace they had made was over and real life was back.  Wrapping the sheet around her, she got up and turned the radio off.        “I have a flight to catch.”  Without turning around she pulled clothes out of a black suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom.         Silently cursing himself, he searches for his own clothes.  His shirt is completely trashed, and he’s still looking for this left sock when she finally reemerges, hair slicked back into a low ponytail, face almost completely devoid of make up.  He’s struck again by how much she looks like the Sydney in his memories, not the strange, hard person he met in New York.       “We have to talk about this, Syd,” he said, “You can’t leave like this.”       “There’s nothing to talk about.  It’s over and now we can go back to our lives,” she replied, still not looking him in the eye.       “Is that what you think this was?  Some meaningless fuck?  That’s not why I came here,” he said angrily.       “Then why did you come here?  I thought we settled this in your office yesterday.  You can’t forgive and I can’t forget.  I’m done with this game, Vaughn.  Our chance has passed,” she answered, not bothering to disguise the bitterness in her voice. “‘I’m tired of playing the star-crossed lovers.  Chalk it up to bad timing, circumstances, miscommunication, whatever.  Hell, blame it on me if you want.  I don’t care anymore.”       He grabbed her and forced her to look at him. “If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have come here in the first place.  Don’t you think I’m tired of this too?  I’m sick of second guessing myself, thinking what if I had stayed with you in Rio?  Maybe you and I would be married instead of Eric and Francie, maybe we’d be hiding out on some beach in Guatemala, maybe we’d be dead.  But that’s not what happened and here we are, sitting in a motel room in Santa Fe, arguing about the past and things we can’t change.”       She shook her head.  “Then why did you just let me go? If you cared that much why didn’t you at least call me after you left New York?”       “I thought you needed time to make your own decision,” he answered, stepping back. “I know you; no one can force you to do anything you don’t want to.”       “Still, you didn’t stick around long enough to find out.  And you certainly weren’t crying yourself to sleep at night all by yourself,” she remarked.       “What do want me say?  That I was scared?  I was.  I was scared to death that the girl I was looking for was gone.  And I was the reason for it.  You thought that you had my blood on your hands?  Well, the feeling’s mutual.  That part of you that was sweet and hopeful, the part that made me fall in love with you was destroyed and my impulsiveness was to blame.  If I hadn’t gone to Rio, hadn’t been so anxious to see you, everything would have been different.”       “Vaughn, I......I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said.       He held his hand up. “Nothing, I don’t want you to say anything.  You asked, and I’m answering.  I messed up In New York.  I know that.  I was following you and I saw you take that guy from the club back to your place and I snapped.  I wanted to hurt you.  It was irrational, but I didn’t care.  Nothing went the way I planned and when we were in the park, you seemed so different, so angry and I knew that was my fault.  I figured that even if you didn’t want to see me again, the photos and the letter would at least convince you to let Will and Francie know you were okay.”  He turned around and headed for the door.  Putting his hand on the knob, he looked at her again and said, “I know you don’t believe this, but I’ve never stopped loving you, Sydney, not for one minute.”  Before he could open the door, she pulled him back not bothering to hide the tears running down her cheeks.       “Don’t go,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder.        “I’m so tired, Vaughn.  Tired of running.  That’s all I’ve been doing for so long.  From the Alliance, from my father, from my mother, from my past, from you.  I can’t do it anymore.  I just want to stand still and have something real, something I can hold onto.  I want someone to love,” she finished.        He took her hand, rubbing his thumb over hers and said, “I’m real, Syd.  This is real.”       “What if it isn’t?  What if after all this time we find out that we only wanted to be together because we couldn’t be?”       “If we never try, how are we ever going to find out,” he asked, “Do you want to try?  I mean really try, no running away if it gets tough?”       She looked at him, feeling like she was standing on the edge of a cliff.           “Yeah, I do.  I want to try.”
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