Chapter 10 - What Happens Now

Weiss flopped down in the chair in front of Vaughn's desk. "That Marshall is a real trip."

Vaughn looked up from his paperwork. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Explanation of gadget, dynamics of an ant hill, explanation of gadget, physics of a black hole, explanation of gadget, healing properties of ginseng..."

His rant continued, but Vaughn found his thoughts trailing back to his phone conversation with Sydney that afternoon. He had shocked himself, actually managing to deliver the cavalier response to her question about whether he was doing anything that night. That he had practiced it a few dozen times in his head, hoping she would pose the question, was immaterial.

"...the chemical differences between light beer and regular — at least that was interesting," Weiss said. "It's 4:55."

"Huh?"

"It's 4:55, which would make it 30 seconds later than the last time you checked your watch. What time's the big date?"

"Six o'clock, and it's not a date," Vaughn said. "We're just going to a hockey game."

"Oh, is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"I'm not even going to justify that with a response," Vaughn retorted.

"Seriously, Vaughn. Have you thought about what happens now?" Besides Vaughn, Weiss was the only person at the CIA who knew about the kiss in the warehouse years ago. When Vaughn had first told him, Weiss had threatened to take the matter to Devlin, "because you're my friend, and I'd rather not see you full of bullets." It had taken a lot of fast talking by Vaughn to convince him that the kiss had effectively ended, rather than enhanced, the tension between him and Sydney.

Vaughn stayed moodily silent. "Okay, so that's a yes," Weiss said.

"We've lied to ourselves for a long time," Vaughn said. "I don't know how she feels anymore. Hell, I'm not even sure how I feel anymore."

"I'm sure you just want to be her friend," Weiss said. "Which is why you haven't dated anyone since Alice. Give me a break, Mike." He paused. "Don't tell me you two are going to wait all this time and then dance around the issue."

"It's not that," Vaughn protested. "You know what they teach you about dealing with interrogations — to make up lies and tell them to yourself over and over again until you believe them? It's kind of like that."

"Whatever. Real simple solution. Kiss her tonight, then see how you feel. Now it's five o'clock. Leave."

Vaughn stood. "I mean it," Weiss threatened. "I am not going to deal with you moping around here for another three and a half years."

"I have not been moping."

"Whatever."

Vaughn found that Sydney's driveway had the same number of cars in it as it had the previous night, which meant he would have to face Will again. At least Sydney's awake this time, he thought. Somehow, it was comforting to him that she could kick Will's ass five times over, even if Will didn't know it.

Thankfully, Sydney answered the door, clad in faded jeans and a form-fitting red t-shirt. "Hi. You're early," complete with a brilliant smile. "Come on in."

He followed her into the house, bracing himself. "I understand everyone has already met," she said, smiling sheepishly at Will and Francie, who were seated on the couch. Actually, she more than understood, and had in fact already dealt with a lengthy interrogation by Will. That had been fraught with IRS cracks and barely concealed jealousy, and wasn't something she wanted to repeat soon.

Will greeted him with a false-friendly, "Hi, Michael." Vaughn realized he would probably be fine until the next time he was in the same room as Will, sans Sydney. To his credit, he thought, you've been able to be jealous of him for years. He's got a lot of catch-up time.

"Just let me go grab my purse," Sydney told him. "Damn. My wallet, it's still—"

"I've got your bag and some of your other stuff from the office in my car," he said. "Weiss and I were going to swing by with your car tomorrow, if that's okay."

"Thanks. That's fine," she said. "I'll be right back."

Vaughn waited until they had stepped outside before he asked, "Does Will live there?"

"In theory, no. In practice, yes," she said, laughing. "Vaughn, it's going to take him awhile to warm up to you, and there's probably not anything you can do. I know he's always had this belief that we'd end up together, and he sees you as a threat to that." They both grew uncomfortable at the underlying suggestion, but it passed by the time they reached his car.

When they arrived at the game, Sydney found her body was humming, both excited and nervous. "You ready?" he asked, putting the car in park.

"Yeah," she said. "I kind of feel like I'm going on a mission. Mission: Normal." She smirked, and then added seriously, "Vaughn, what if I can't be normal?"

That was not exactly what her brain had posed, unbidden, earlier that day as she had been scouring her closet. That line of questioning had been, "Can we be normal? Can we exist outside of dank warehouses and pretending to be perfect strangers every time we're in public? Can we actually hang out together instead of asking each other on imaginary dates we can't ever actualize?" She settled for the one she voiced.

He looked down and smiled. "Sydney, you're never going to be a normal person. You would have still been special even if SD-6 had never recruited you," he paused. "But I think you're going to be good at doing normal things."

Sydney blushed at the compliment and changed the subject to dodge further thought as to its meaning. "I caught you," she accused. "Looking for tails on the way here."

"At least one of us still works for the CIA," he replied archly. "Come on. I think the whole point of this was to go out in public, not sit in the car."

Actually, she thought, I could go for just sitting in the car and talking. As long as no one says "counter mission." Vaughn's probably too much of a hockey fan to go for that plan, though. She opened her door and stepped out.

"Doesn't this feel weird?" she whispered as they walked through the throngs of people to their seats.

"Extremely," he said, looking directly at her. "But in a good way."