Title: Wish List

Author: Donna donna__rose@hotmail.com

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: They're not mine, if you think they are you are obviously either insane or a very dumb lawyer.

Summary: Syd wishes, Vaughn delivers, a happy ending. I dunno, read it and then you can write my summary for me.

Notes: Well, I'm not notorious for finishing fics, but reviews will get me moving. I really like them whether they are mean or nice just as long as I know that someone is reading this. It will have a happy ending, I promise. Um, also I live in Australia so if I make mistakes or spell mom mum (which I won't on my end of year English exam I spelt mom mom and my teacher just thought it was great.) don't get made. Also I don't think I'll try to incorporate any of the real show's plot because it's too hard to keep up. Also anyone wanna e-mail me, just do it, I don't mind, I'd actually love for you to, makes me feel wanted. Donna__rose@hotmail.com Anyways, R and R please and enjoy.

Chapter One The floor was hidden beneath a thick film of dust. Everything in the room was covered in the brown matter bar the few distinct footmarks on the ground and the cleaned off surfaces of two of the out of place plastic chairs. The warehouse looked like a weird type of prison; with its wire fences and sparse furnishings, its dimly lit empty space and un-wanted bits and pieces, and it was a prison to Sydney. It was the only place where she was allowed, every where else it wasn't Sydney, it was some weird woman with a weird name and a weird personality. It wasn't Sydney.

At home she wasn't Sydney, she was a well scripted character with false ideas and false emotions, the real feelings only slipping out in grief and sadness, she would never show a happiness that was really hers. Sure she might know she should be happy for Francie when she decided to open a restaurant and happy for Will when he announced something good. But she couldn't be really happy, she couldn't say what she felt in case the mask slipped off and she was forced to face her friends with the truth. She'd always thought that if she had the chance she would tell them.

Even after her fiancée was killed for that very reason, Sydney refused to realise that they could never know who she truly was. Then Will had found out and as she looked back on the events of the last few months she realised that no one should ever have been introduced to Sydney Bristow, Double Agent.

Will hadn't blamed her, but he had never gotten the whole story either, she had never been able to just sit down and talk to him about it as though it really was her life. It was always, "SD-6 is... " or "The CIA..." or "The Double Agents...". Never just "I...". She wished she could, but she knew that it would be too hard, too complicated. Too risky.

So she sat there in the dark on the chair she always took with her feet up on the chair across where Vaughn usually sat and shut her eyes. No meeting had been called, no mission, or counter mission, needed to be discussed, no one knew she was here. She was leaving home more and more often in search of comfort here, in this dull and lonely place. Sydney knew it was stupid, that she shouldn't come here unless she was told to, but she needed it desperately.

She had come the night before and three days before that, just sitting for hours with her eyes tightly shut and her mind wandering over conversations that she wished she was having. Usually with Vaughn, ranging from the weather to the latest from Marshall, but sometimes with Will or Francie and sometimes with her father Jack.

She wanted Francie to meet Vaughn, she was positive that they would instantly take a liking to each other, Vaughn to Francie's bright manner and Francie at first to Vaughn's good looks. 'Not that I've noticed,' Sydney was quick to remind herself. She played the scene out in her head, the whole normal confrontation. She would take Vaughn round to her house and they'd be inside getting a cup of coffee.

"Syd, you mind if I borrow that top you bought the other day, the red one with the low back." Francie's voice echoed down from the bathroom. "I'm going out tonight with the guy from work, not a great looker but hey, I'll deal."

Francie rounded the corner with the clingy top on, a hand behind her head as she fumbled with the cords that she needed to get a knot into. With out looking up she called, "Syd, you wanna give me a hand?"

Sydney smiled at Vaughn as he leaned against the counter guessing the woman in front of him to be Francie and quite intrigued at her behaviour. Slowly, Syd walked around and out of the kitchen, taking the cords from Francie she tied them securely in a double knotted bow and let go. The material fell gently over her room-mates body as Francie smoothed it out finally, throwing her hair out of her eyes, she looked up.

She caught sight of Vaughn's toned physique hunched over the cream coloured bench, coffee cup grasped in his hands and a well established smile upon his face she realised, as her eyes moved upwards to his face. She looked to Sydney, curiosity and amusement mixed with in her glance before looking back to Vaughn.

Sydney's was pulled from the reverie as soft footfall alerted her to company in the warehouse. Checking her watch quickly she noticed the time was just ticking over nine pm. A shard of moonlight slipped through the window, illuminating specs of dust and a slim metal bar that ran just above where Sydney sat. Standing with the quiet of a prowling cat, she listened as the near silent shuffling of a pair of shoes neared. Looking around she saw no other escape, she climbed onto the chair and propelled herself with one mighty jump up onto the bar. She flipped herself up to sit on top with on leg looped over and around.

The metal was cold and the bar very smooth and slim and she fought not to let squeals out from under her palms as her hands fought to gain steady balance. Below her a familiar smell wafted up to her as a tall man in a full length coat and hat turned into the small cage where CIA meetings were held.

His collar was upturned against the strong wind outside and his face obscured, the familiar stance and smell caused Sydney to concentrate too hard on trying to remember the familiarities and thus, indecently lose her grip on the now sweaty bar and fall almost head first to the ground. She recovered in time to land on her shoulder and roll up into a squat from which she proceeded to whip her foot around catching the off-guard intruder in the back of the thigh. He went crashing to the ground, a small yelp escaping his lips. Seconds later green eyes clashed with brown as Sydney picked herself up onto her knees only to meet the business end of a gun.

Not long after both guns dropped as the pair recognised each other. "Vaughn?" Sydney asked in question, she was both surprised and embarrassed at her handler's sudden appearance. She stood up trying to dust the dirt from the tank top and light denim shorts she was wearing, "What are you doing here?"

He straightened the black shirt he was wearing and grasped Sydney's hand as she offered to help him up. "I could ask you the same thing," he said dodging the question and smiling as he saw his agent blush and look at the ground. "I was just coming in to make sure the place was fine. We have a meeting tomorrow and I wanted to make sure that the warehouse hadn't been bugged."

Sydney looked at him, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. Eventually she nodded and sat down in her usual chair. "Sorry about beating you up, I didn't know it was you."

Vaughn smiled at her, no sign of anger in his eyes. "I like that kick thing you used, very nice." He looked at her, taking in the slightly dusty clothing and dirty face. Noting a graze on the side of her arm he reached, unthinkingly, into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a navy blue handkerchief. Sitting down on the chair, he leaned over and gently wiped the blood from the wound. "You should wash it, it might get infected." He continued to carefully wipe at the wound, hands gentle on her skin and the smooth material hardly even touching her.

Eventually he wrapped the handkerchief around her arm and waiting, still staring, intrigued, at her arm, for some kind of response. After a few moments' uncomfortable silence, he whispered, "All better." There was still no answer and he dared to look up, wondering what he had done wrong.

Sydney was sitting back in the chair, her right arm dangling useless at her side, her eyebrows knitted in concentration as she stared, a shocked look about her features, at where her handler's hand still held her arm. Realising his mistake Vaughn unceremoniously allowed Sydney's hand to drop down into her lap. Snapping out of her daze, Sydney spoke, "Thank," her voice came out in a rasp, she coughed and continued, "Thank you. But its fine, I've had a lot worse."

Vaughn nodded in agreement and moved his chair back half a meter, trying to relieve the stress that was hanging silently in the air around them. "So, why were you here?"

Sydney suddenly wished she was invisible; she silently recalled what she had been thinking about and felt her cheeks flush red again and her palms become slippery with sweat. "I was just thinking."

Vaughn involuntarily felt a large grin grace his lips, his muscles aching as he strained not to crack up completely. Sydney just looked at him in confusion, "What?"

"Nothing, it's just that you're the best agent the CIA has and you can't come up with a lie good enough to fool you're severely under qualified handler into believing. I'm sorry but I find that funny." He ducked as she went to hit him playfully. "What were you thinking about?"

"It doesn't matter." Syd looked at the ground, no real idea of why her sudden inability to fool Vaughn had occurred. Noticing her was still waiting for an answer she went on, "No really, it doesn't matter. It's not a matter of national security, no one is in danger and I'm not going to tell you anymore than that."

His forehead creased into the well defined worry lines that were quickly etching themselves further into his head. He stared at her until simultaneously they looked away, Sydney at the oil stain she always watched and Vaughn up at the window that he used to judge the weather out side.

"Why not?" he eventually ventured.

"Why should I?" she countered, glad to see the corner of his mouth twitch up at her comment.

"Because if it isn't anything to do with National Security, it must have something to do with you, and I'm interested in you." He beamed at her until he saw her half playful, half embarrassed look and bothered to think about what he had just said. "Oh no, I didn't mean that, I'm not interested interested in you, I'm interested in you, you're life because you're my agent. It's my job."

Sydney felt a pain deep down in her stomach and her face fell as she listened to his words. Perking up purposely, he stood up to leave. "It doesn't matter what I was thinking about, it makes no difference to you of me, and so, it shouldn't matter to you. I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Syd," she was already out of sight, the sound of her sneakers on the ground still echoing through the warehouse. "It does matter damn it." Vaughn slumped back in the chair before getting up to leave, ready to head home for another night in front of the TV with Donovan.