|
Not Quite Nothing Summary: Will and Vaughn
have something, but they can't quite put it into words. Feedback: Is very welcome: liz@mirrordance.net
It was about looks and glances, not-quite-casual conversations, and the things they couldn't speak of. Will felt like a moron: he had a job, good friends and an honest-to-God security clearance. And yet he sought eye contact with Michael Vaughn, and couldn't bring himself to break it. Yeah. A moron. Also the lowest kind of guy around, because Vaughn and Sydney had something, and Syd was his best friend. And anyway, he was too old for this kind of boycrush nonsense. Seriously. College was over, vanished in a haze of alcohol and experimentation, and he was theoretically a grown-up now. Theoretically. Not his fault that Vaughn had those eyes, and those lips, and he'd really been expecting someone older. Jack Bristow type older, maybe. Too old for Sydney. Too old for him. Screw it. He was too old for this. Really. * Vaughn had thought he was being subtle, but Jack caught him after the briefing. "A word of advice, Agent Vaughn," he said, leaning in close enough that Vaughn could smell his skin and aftershave. "I don't want to find that you're planning to betray Sydney." "My loyalty-" "I meant personally." Vaughn had known exactly what he meant, but he didn’t want to hear it said out loud. "Whatever games you and Tippin are playing--" "It's not a game," he said. He hadn't meant to speak. "Don’t give me reason to doubt you, Agent Vaughn," Jack said. He opened his mouth, and Vaughn could almost see him considering the words, more reason. "Don't go looking for reasons, then. Agent Bristow." Vaughn walked away, but Jack’s eyes were boring into his back, and he wondered how long he could keep this up. His mother had always said the hardest person to deceive was yourself. He didn"t need this, not on top of everything else. He didn't need more mind games. He only needed Sydney. Really. * Vaughn looked like he hadn't slept for several weeks. Will couldn't find it in himself to be sympathetic. "You'll be placed in the Witness Protection Scheme," he said, and they discussed identification, and safe houses, and newer, more complicated ways to deceive people. They didn't discuss Sydney, or Jack, or Irina. All gone now: Sydney was dead, Irina was beyond the CIA's reach, and Jack had lost himself in a madman's search. The Bristows were out of their reach now. They didn't speak of them. Vaughn rubbed blood-shot eyes, and looked at Will. "You should get some rest," he said. "Yeah." He watched Vaughn, moving through the cramped little safe house like it was his. In a sense, he guessed, it was. "I think I'm ready for this to be over," he said. Vaughn didn't bother reassuring him. There was nothing to say.
|