Chapter 3 — Uncertainty

Ridiculous. That was a good word for it, Sydney thought. Ridiculous that it was 3:34 p.m. and she was sitting there on the couch, re-reading the same paragraph of a textbook between glances at her very-silent cordless phone. Ridiculous that she was letting doubt curl around her stomach, despite the steadfast foundation of things said the night before.

Quite frankly, she was starting to get pissed. Vaughn had said he would call, but apparently he saw that as a much more open-ended statement than her.

Certainty. That was something to be said of their previous relationship. Scribble something down on a paper bag, pitch it in the trash. The "Joey's Pizza" call always came shortly after that.

She shifted on the couch, searching for a comfortable position. Her body ached from old missions and sex, despite Vaughn's care. A long, hot bath earlier in the day had helped temporarily, but pain was beginning to radiate through her again, including some new aches that made her want to pick up the phone and fling it across the room. She imagined it slamming against the plaster and splintering into little plastic pieces and a tangle of wires; the image was somehow comforting.

She smelled nice, lavender salts in the bath. Thought she looked nice too. The floral sundress had been a discovery during a reorganization of her closet, something on her lengthy list of things to do when spare time managed to find her. It was a little flirty, with spaghetti straps and a flared skirt; no surprise that the tags were still intact, its colors too bright and happy for the last few years of her life. A more exciting option than cotton, dug from the back of her underwear drawer, and a pair of sandals completed things.

Same paragraph, 3:43, and finally a ring. She grabbed the phone and forced herself to hold it for two more before answering. "Hello."

"Hey Syd. It's me." Vaughn. "I'm sorry it took so long to call — we've been pretty busy here."

Yeah, well I've been pretty not busy here. "Is everything okay?"

"Not exactly. Did your father tell you about the...potential complications?"

"Yes." Jack had warned her of the problems with SD-4 during dinner, with a stern reminder that — civilian now or otherwise — she could never really let her guard down.

"We got confirmation. I've been dealing with wild hypotheses and contingency plans all day."

He sounded weary, she thought. "Did you still want to do something later?"

"Actually, I'm kind of beat." There was something strange about his voice. The doubtful part of her wanted to call it reluctance. Suddenly, she felt hollow. Uncomfortable, as if she didn't fit quite right in her aching body. Sydney tried to reassure herself with recent memories, but the doubt lingered.

"Oh," she said, as silence commandeered for a few seconds. "That's okay. I understand if — "

He cut her off. "Sorry, Syd. That's not what I meant," Vaughn said. "I wanted to take you out tonight, do something nice, but I'm just not up for it after today." He paused, and she realized that while she'd had the opportunity to catch up on sleep, he had been juggling work and her — apparently unsuccessfully — for the past few days. "Tell you what," he continued. "Why don't I pick you up, give you the grand tour of my place, and we can watch a movie or something."

The opportunity to see where Vaughn lived — long a curiosity for her, particularly as of late — was enough. "Sure," she said. "It's a...date." Bolder over the phone, and hoping for some reassurance, she added. "Love you."

"Weiss just walked into my office," Vaughn said. "You know— "

"—goodbye, Vaughn," she saved him, laughing as she clicked the off button on the phone.

Advancing paragraphs was suddenly not so hard after that, and she made it through almost 50 pages before Francie walked in the door.

Time for awkward talk number one. This one would still go much better than awkward talk number two. She'd avoided both by returning home after Francie and Will had left, but they still pinched at her mind, a foreboding smoke on the horizon.

Francie didn't waste any time, claiming a seat on the couch next to Sydney and dropping her purse and keys on the floor with a thud and jangle.

"Okay," she said, staring at Sydney. "What the hell was that?"

Playing dumb wasn't going to work, but at least it would let her stall. "What was what?"

"You. At the bar. Last night. I've never seen you like that. Ever."

Sydney couldn't give Francie the history that would fully explain her actions. Instead, she forced the doubts from her mind and spread a smile across her face. "I think you're going to see me like that a lot more."

"That good, huh?" Francie asked.

Sydney nodded, maintaining the smile, but feeling it turn more genuine. It wasn't so much that the sex was good. It was the ancillary things — the look in Vaughn's eyes, the cautious, caring way he'd touched her. This was why she didn't need to feel any doubt, she told herself, recalling specifics of the night that sent heat rushing to her face.

Francie laughed. "Look at you. I'm so happy for you." She paused. "But Will..."

"I know," Sydney said softly. "I don't know what to say to him."

"I don't know if there's anything you can say," Francie told her. "All of this time, he just thought you were waiting for him to make the right move. And then all of a sudden there's Michael, and it's pretty obvious you weren't waiting for Will."

"I should have said something a long time ago." She chastised herself often on this topic, especially now that earlier action would have made things easier on Vaughn. "I could see what was happening, but I always just dodged it."

"Syd, nothing you could have said would have helped," Francie said. "He had to see it. He needed something concrete."

"I keep telling myself that now Will can move on," Sydney said. "But I'm not sure where this leaves our friendship."

Francie reached out and squeezed her arm. "You'll pick it back up, Syd. It may take some time, but you guys have been friends for too long for this to kill it."