Author's Note: There isn't much plot here, only fluff. Hopefully, you like that kind of thing. I appreciate any and all reviews.
Disclaimer: Sydney and Vaughn don't belong to me. I was just borrowing them for a while. Sorry, J.J.!
Sydney Bristow didn't know what to do with herself as she lay in bed at 8:53 on Thursday morning. On an ordinary day, she'd already be at her desk at SD-6, but Sloane had given her Thursday and Friday off. "You've been working too hard, Sydney," he'd told her the day before. Actually, she was starting to think that *he* was working too hard. For the last few weeks, he had been looking disheveled and losing his train of thought during briefings. Just last week, she could have sworn that she saw him sitting at his desk with a drink in hand. Maybe he was having a nervous breakdown, or . . . Um, what exactly was she doing? Arvin Sloane's mental health was of no concern to her, unless it was going to help her take down SD-6 quicker. Somehow, she didn't think it would.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. SD-6. The bane of her existence. It had taken away her past and threatened to keep her from her future. For the millionth time in the last year, she cursed herself for making that phone call eight years ago. How different would her life be if she had never heard of SD-6? She rolled over on her side. Considering who her parents were, considering all the things they had done to her, maybe her life really wouldn't have been that different, after all. She sighed heavily. There was no use imagining a life without SD-6. Like it or not, this *was* her life, and it wasn't all bad. In fact, if it hadn't been for SD-6 . . . if it hadn't been for SD-6, she wouldn't know Michael Vaughn. And now that she did know him, she wasn't sure that she would trade a Vaughn-less existence for an SD-6-less existence, anyway.
Sydney pushed aside the covers and stood up to stretch. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with her long weekend, but she couldn't lay in bed all day. If she did, she would just think about Vaughn, which ordinarily wasn't a bad thing. But she knew that if she thought about him now she'd want to see him, which was impossible because he was on vacation. She couldn't believe it when he told her he was going away for a week. She'd wanted to ask him, "But what about me? What if I need you? What if Sloane gives me a mission?" But before she could ask, he'd told her that another agent would be her temporary handler if something came up. "It's only for a week," he smiled. "I'm sure you can survive without me for that long. You'll probably even enjoy it." She wasn't sure if he had been trying to get a reaction from her or if he was really that clueless. Yeah, she might survive a week without him, but she damned sure wouldn't enjoy it. Sometimes the only thing that got her out of bed in the morning was the hope that she would see him at some point during the day. So far, the week had absolutely dragged without him. She wasn't too proud to admit that she missed him. Maybe she'd even tell him so when he came back.
Actually, she was glad -- maybe *glad* was too strong a word -- that he had this time for himself. He deserved to relax and not have to worry about her or his other agents for at least one week. Still, there was a part of her that hoped she wasn't too far from his thoughts, because he hadn't left hers at all. She wondered where he was right now. All she knew was that he was going away with a friend, one of his college hockey teammates. He hadn't been sure what they were going to do or where they were going to go. The thought of that made Sydney giggle. Michael Vaughn, Mr. Plan-Everything-Down-to-the-Last-Detail, had no idea what he was going to be doing for the next week. Whatever it was that he had ended up doing, she just hoped he was having fun, even if it was without her.
*****
Michael Vaughn was packing running shoes into a duffel bag. He should have known something was going to interrupt his vacation. Well, technically, nothing was interrupting *his* vacation. But his buddy Peter had been called back to Dallas, something about filing a motion for a temporary restraining order and preliminary injunction. Suddenly, Vaughn was grateful that he had spent the summer after his second year of law school interning at the CIA rather than a law firm. When Peter got called for an emergency, it usually involved mountains of paper work and hearings; when he got called to work for an emergency, it usually involved Sydney. He smiled as he zipped Peter's bag. Sydney. He wondered what she was doing right now. Probably sitting in the SD-6 briefing room rolling her eyes at Sloane or trying not to laugh while Marshall was talking. For a moment, he felt guilty that he wouldn't be available to give her her countermission. He knew that Agent Riley was very capable, and he felt comfortable entrusting him with his other agents. But not with Sydney. He didn't trust anyone with her, sometimes not even himself. He had been so uptight about leaving Sydney in the care of another handler, even temporarily. But he didn't dare express those concerns to Devlin when he insisted that Vaughn take a week off. Devlin pointed out, in an all-too-knowing tone, that Vaughn hadn't taken a vacation since he was put in charge of Sydney's case file. It was pretty easy to read between the lines of Devlin's words, so he didn't protest even though he wanted to.
Actually, he was glad to have had had this time off. Due to their busy schedules, he and Peter hadn't seen each other in at least two years. After four years as hockey teammates and three years of law school, Peter was the closest thing Michael had to a brother, and it had been like old times hanging out with him this week. *Too* much like old times, Michael thought, as he shook his head and laughed. He should have known that Peter's suggestion that they spend the week at a ski resort had nothing to do with skiing. "Snowbunnies, man," Peter laughed when Vaughn asked him the *real* reason he chose Lake Tahoe for their trip. Having grown up in France, Michael was a skilled skier; the same couldn't be said of Peter who'd spent more time on a surfboard than skis. Nevertheless, they'd had a great time on and off the slopes, although Peter had trouble understanding why Michael wasn't the flirt he used to be back in their school days.
"Hey, Mike. That woman over there is staring at you."
"What? No way."
"Yeah, she is. She's hot. You should invite her over here."
"Nah, I don't think so. She's . . . not my type."
"Man, you've said that about every woman we've seen this week. What exactly is your type?
Vaughn hadn't answered his question. He didn't have a type, not since the day Sydney Bristow had walked into his office and into his life. Now he barely noticed other women. It was as if every other woman in the world had faded to black and white and Sydney was the only one in color. He knew he'd never be able to explain that to Peter, especially when he was at a loss to explain it to himself.
Vaughn's thoughts were interrupted as Peter walked back into the room. "Okay, I'm all checked out. Mike, I'm really sorry about all this. I hope I didn't ruin your vacation."
"Hey, don't worry about it. Duty calls. I understand. Besides, I was getting tired of you, anyway." They shared a laugh.
"So what are you gonna do for the next two days?"
Michael shrugged. "Ski, relax. Apologize to all the women you hit on this week." He grinned.
"Hey, look who's a comedian now. I'm leaving just in time. Anyway, my cab is waiting downstairs. Be good, Mike. I had a blast this week."
"Me too," Michael said as he handed Peter his duffel bag and patted him on the back. "Have a safe trip back. Try not to flirt with all the flight attendants."
*****
Back in Los Angeles, Sydney sat on the couch and restlessly flipped through the pages of InStyle magazine. Normally, she loved poring over each month's issue. But she was so bored today that she could barely pay attention to it.
Francie and Will were at the restaurant and wouldn't be home for hours. She'd go hang out with them if she weren't afraid that Francie would put her to work washing dishes. Sydney thought about going to the beach for the day, or better yet, going to Palm Springs. She loved it there, and it was a great place to spend a long weekend. She picked up the phone and was just about to call her favorite bed and breakfast when she looked down at the magazine and saw a travel feature on Lake Tahoe. She smiled at the pictures of the log cabin resorts, powdery snow, and the shimmering lake that never froze over, even in winter. It was gorgeous. She could almost see herself sitting next to a fire in her room, reading a good book and sipping hot apple cider. Her decision was made. She turned on the phone and dialed the number of the resort pictured in the magazine. Then she called Francie's travel agent. Thirty minutes later, she congratulated herself on having planned a spur of the moment weekend getaway to Lake Tahoe.
Disclaimer: Sydney and Vaughn don't belong to me. I was just borrowing them for a while. Sorry, J.J.!
Sydney Bristow didn't know what to do with herself as she lay in bed at 8:53 on Thursday morning. On an ordinary day, she'd already be at her desk at SD-6, but Sloane had given her Thursday and Friday off. "You've been working too hard, Sydney," he'd told her the day before. Actually, she was starting to think that *he* was working too hard. For the last few weeks, he had been looking disheveled and losing his train of thought during briefings. Just last week, she could have sworn that she saw him sitting at his desk with a drink in hand. Maybe he was having a nervous breakdown, or . . . Um, what exactly was she doing? Arvin Sloane's mental health was of no concern to her, unless it was going to help her take down SD-6 quicker. Somehow, she didn't think it would.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. SD-6. The bane of her existence. It had taken away her past and threatened to keep her from her future. For the millionth time in the last year, she cursed herself for making that phone call eight years ago. How different would her life be if she had never heard of SD-6? She rolled over on her side. Considering who her parents were, considering all the things they had done to her, maybe her life really wouldn't have been that different, after all. She sighed heavily. There was no use imagining a life without SD-6. Like it or not, this *was* her life, and it wasn't all bad. In fact, if it hadn't been for SD-6 . . . if it hadn't been for SD-6, she wouldn't know Michael Vaughn. And now that she did know him, she wasn't sure that she would trade a Vaughn-less existence for an SD-6-less existence, anyway.
Sydney pushed aside the covers and stood up to stretch. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with her long weekend, but she couldn't lay in bed all day. If she did, she would just think about Vaughn, which ordinarily wasn't a bad thing. But she knew that if she thought about him now she'd want to see him, which was impossible because he was on vacation. She couldn't believe it when he told her he was going away for a week. She'd wanted to ask him, "But what about me? What if I need you? What if Sloane gives me a mission?" But before she could ask, he'd told her that another agent would be her temporary handler if something came up. "It's only for a week," he smiled. "I'm sure you can survive without me for that long. You'll probably even enjoy it." She wasn't sure if he had been trying to get a reaction from her or if he was really that clueless. Yeah, she might survive a week without him, but she damned sure wouldn't enjoy it. Sometimes the only thing that got her out of bed in the morning was the hope that she would see him at some point during the day. So far, the week had absolutely dragged without him. She wasn't too proud to admit that she missed him. Maybe she'd even tell him so when he came back.
Actually, she was glad -- maybe *glad* was too strong a word -- that he had this time for himself. He deserved to relax and not have to worry about her or his other agents for at least one week. Still, there was a part of her that hoped she wasn't too far from his thoughts, because he hadn't left hers at all. She wondered where he was right now. All she knew was that he was going away with a friend, one of his college hockey teammates. He hadn't been sure what they were going to do or where they were going to go. The thought of that made Sydney giggle. Michael Vaughn, Mr. Plan-Everything-Down-to-the-Last-Detail, had no idea what he was going to be doing for the next week. Whatever it was that he had ended up doing, she just hoped he was having fun, even if it was without her.
*****
Michael Vaughn was packing running shoes into a duffel bag. He should have known something was going to interrupt his vacation. Well, technically, nothing was interrupting *his* vacation. But his buddy Peter had been called back to Dallas, something about filing a motion for a temporary restraining order and preliminary injunction. Suddenly, Vaughn was grateful that he had spent the summer after his second year of law school interning at the CIA rather than a law firm. When Peter got called for an emergency, it usually involved mountains of paper work and hearings; when he got called to work for an emergency, it usually involved Sydney. He smiled as he zipped Peter's bag. Sydney. He wondered what she was doing right now. Probably sitting in the SD-6 briefing room rolling her eyes at Sloane or trying not to laugh while Marshall was talking. For a moment, he felt guilty that he wouldn't be available to give her her countermission. He knew that Agent Riley was very capable, and he felt comfortable entrusting him with his other agents. But not with Sydney. He didn't trust anyone with her, sometimes not even himself. He had been so uptight about leaving Sydney in the care of another handler, even temporarily. But he didn't dare express those concerns to Devlin when he insisted that Vaughn take a week off. Devlin pointed out, in an all-too-knowing tone, that Vaughn hadn't taken a vacation since he was put in charge of Sydney's case file. It was pretty easy to read between the lines of Devlin's words, so he didn't protest even though he wanted to.
Actually, he was glad to have had had this time off. Due to their busy schedules, he and Peter hadn't seen each other in at least two years. After four years as hockey teammates and three years of law school, Peter was the closest thing Michael had to a brother, and it had been like old times hanging out with him this week. *Too* much like old times, Michael thought, as he shook his head and laughed. He should have known that Peter's suggestion that they spend the week at a ski resort had nothing to do with skiing. "Snowbunnies, man," Peter laughed when Vaughn asked him the *real* reason he chose Lake Tahoe for their trip. Having grown up in France, Michael was a skilled skier; the same couldn't be said of Peter who'd spent more time on a surfboard than skis. Nevertheless, they'd had a great time on and off the slopes, although Peter had trouble understanding why Michael wasn't the flirt he used to be back in their school days.
"Hey, Mike. That woman over there is staring at you."
"What? No way."
"Yeah, she is. She's hot. You should invite her over here."
"Nah, I don't think so. She's . . . not my type."
"Man, you've said that about every woman we've seen this week. What exactly is your type?
Vaughn hadn't answered his question. He didn't have a type, not since the day Sydney Bristow had walked into his office and into his life. Now he barely noticed other women. It was as if every other woman in the world had faded to black and white and Sydney was the only one in color. He knew he'd never be able to explain that to Peter, especially when he was at a loss to explain it to himself.
Vaughn's thoughts were interrupted as Peter walked back into the room. "Okay, I'm all checked out. Mike, I'm really sorry about all this. I hope I didn't ruin your vacation."
"Hey, don't worry about it. Duty calls. I understand. Besides, I was getting tired of you, anyway." They shared a laugh.
"So what are you gonna do for the next two days?"
Michael shrugged. "Ski, relax. Apologize to all the women you hit on this week." He grinned.
"Hey, look who's a comedian now. I'm leaving just in time. Anyway, my cab is waiting downstairs. Be good, Mike. I had a blast this week."
"Me too," Michael said as he handed Peter his duffel bag and patted him on the back. "Have a safe trip back. Try not to flirt with all the flight attendants."
*****
Back in Los Angeles, Sydney sat on the couch and restlessly flipped through the pages of InStyle magazine. Normally, she loved poring over each month's issue. But she was so bored today that she could barely pay attention to it.
Francie and Will were at the restaurant and wouldn't be home for hours. She'd go hang out with them if she weren't afraid that Francie would put her to work washing dishes. Sydney thought about going to the beach for the day, or better yet, going to Palm Springs. She loved it there, and it was a great place to spend a long weekend. She picked up the phone and was just about to call her favorite bed and breakfast when she looked down at the magazine and saw a travel feature on Lake Tahoe. She smiled at the pictures of the log cabin resorts, powdery snow, and the shimmering lake that never froze over, even in winter. It was gorgeous. She could almost see herself sitting next to a fire in her room, reading a good book and sipping hot apple cider. Her decision was made. She turned on the phone and dialed the number of the resort pictured in the magazine. Then she called Francie's travel agent. Thirty minutes later, she congratulated herself on having planned a spur of the moment weekend getaway to Lake Tahoe.