Title: Jeans On

Category: Syd/Vaughn Romance

Rating: PG for mild language

Summary: Sydney wears jeans. Vaughn wears jeans. Magic ensues.

Disclaimer: I certainly am not JJ Abrams. And no matter how hard I try or how I dress up for Halloween, I'm not Jennifer Garner either. I'm just doing this for fun!

Notes: This story was originally going to be a short fluff piece inspired by the Keith Urban song Jeans On. It ended up being a short piece to help me get over my Syd/Vaughn separation anxiety.

When I wake up in the mornin' light

I pull on my jeans and I feel all right

I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on

I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on

It's the weekend, and I know that you're free

So pull on your jeans and come on out with me

Oh, cause I need to have you near me, I need to feel you close to me

I need to have you near me, I need to feel you close to me

You and me we'll go motorbike ridin'

In the sun and the wind and the rain

I got money in my pocket, I got a tiger in my tank

And I'm king of the road again

I'll meet ya in the usual place

You don't need a thing except your pretty face, alright

I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on

I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on

You and me we'll go motorbike ridin'

In the sun and the wind and the rain

I got money in my pocket, I got a tiger in my tank

And I'm king of the road again

When I wake up in the mornin' light

I pull on my jeans and I feel all right

Hey I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on

I pull my blue jeans on, I pull my old blue jeans on

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Sydney Bristow sat on a bar stool, legs crossed, facing the crowd as she leaned against the bar. Her garb this time was that of a college co-ed: her shirt was a spaghetti-strap tank top, white instead of her customary black. Over the tank top she wore a sheer silver blouse, short sleeved, and stopping just below the midriff of the top. She wore acid washed jeans, low-ride, and so tight she had barely managed to wriggle into them. Her hair was curled, pulled into a haphazard ponytail with ringlets framing her face. Sydney felt odd dressing in the tight jeans and barely there top, but when she'd seen herself fully dressed she was surprised to find she looked ten years younger. She hadn't been surprised when they'd carded her at the door.

Leaning against the bar, an air of superiority around her, she had attracted a flock of men, most of them far too young for her and who would be shocked to learn she was 30. They had riddled her with insipid conversation and she was getting quite tired of waiting for her bait to show up. She swept her glance across the bar one more time and verbally fought the advances of one particularly persistent boy. Her gaze stopped near the men's room. Finally.

The man spotted Sydney instantly, but she avoided making eye contact, knowing that this man preferred a woman of mystery. He approached her, pushing aside the annoying boy on her left. The man brashly reached out a hand and stroked one of her tendrils. Sydney had to fight the temptation to crush his windpipe. Instead, she smiled sexily at him.

"Order me a drink? I seem to have been stood up."

"Now, who would do such a thing to you!?" the man replied. Greasy, Sydney thought, is as apt a word as any to describe this man.

Sydney sipped the proffered drink. "He may just be running late."

"Inexcusable," the man said, smiling oily. Sydney fingered the charm on her necklace, releasing a small pill. Then she braced herself and snuggled up to the man, knowing full well he'd pull her into him, which he did. As he hugged her, Sydney dropped the pill into the man's drink, watching as it dissolved. When there was no trace left, she pulled back.

"You're sweet," she said. "I needed that."

The man smiled again and picked up his drink, chugging it down in one gulp. It was Sydney's turn to smile. Not ten seconds after finishing his drink, the man began to stagger and sway.

"Are you okay?" Sydney asked, feigning concern. "You don't look so good. Maybe you should go outside and get some fresh air."

The man looked at her, glassy-eyed, and stammered, "Yeah. Fresh air." He weaved his way through the crowd, waving off his entourage of guards, and out the bar, where Sydney knew several CIA field agents were waiting to apprehend him.

Her own entourage was now back eyeing her, seeing their second chance. She sighed heavily and said "The effect I have on men…" But this only seemed to encourage them more. A couple of them, in particular, were really getting on her nerves and she felt outrageously close to kicking some twenty-something ass.

She grabbed her purse and was about to hop off the stool when one of them grabbed her arm and said "Hey, baby, where are you going?" He was obviously drunk and Sydney stared at him hard, hoping he'd back down. Just as she was about to break his fingers and teach him a lesson about drinking and women when she noticed movement near the door.

As she turned to look, she saw a figure approaching, dressed in incredibly well fitting jeans, blue button down shirt and black leather jacket. He had a little scruff on his face and the color of his shirt made his eyes sparkle. Sydney's breath caught in her throat. No one got to her the way he did. He approached her and swiftly and forcefully removed her suitor's hand from her arm. The boy instantly sprung from his stool, cradling his hand, exclaiming, "Sorry, man, didn't know she was taken."

"She's not taken," he responded, "I am." And then he kissed her and it was something that she remembered, something that she could not forget even though it had been over two years since the last time his lips touched hers.

Sydney's entourage quickly dissipated, and still he kissed her, and Sydney was reminded of their first kiss, surrounded by broken glass, bodies, and the smell of gunpowder. This was so much better. Finally, he pulled back and Sydney felt chills go up and down her spine, both from the feelings he evoked within her and from the cold she felt as his warm arms released her. He leaned in and quickly kissed her at the point where her neck met her shoulder - one of her most sensitive spots - and then smiled at her. Neither said a word until he reached up and brushed her hair out of her eyes. That's when she noticed he wasn't wearing a ring.

She opened her mouth to speak but he silenced her with another kiss. When they parted, he put his arms back around her waist and pulled her close. "It's over," he whispered into her ear. He loosened his grip just enough so he could look into her eyes. "I may have thought you were dead, but I never stopped loving you. It took a while, but both Lauren and I recognized that. She moved back to the east coast, she's going to work for her father. We're getting a divorce."

Sydney's eyes filled with tears, a mix of happiness for herself and sadness for Lauren. "I am sorry for her. She is a much better woman than I am. I could never give you up."

"The difference, Syd, is that I was never hers to begin with. Not really. I tried to pretend that I was, but every morning I'd wake up and expect to see your beautiful body next to mine. Every so often, I'd look at the DNA results to convince myself that you were really gone, but I never stopped aching for you. I'm yours. And always will be."

They kissed again, deep and passionate, unaware of the looks they were getting from the other people in the club. Even if they had noticed, they wouldn't have cared.

"Now we can try to get things back to normal. They way they were before…" he paused, and stroked her cheek. "We'll never be apart again. And we'll get through this together. We'll discover the truth. You remember when your mother escaped the first time and she sent you a message through her earrings?" Sydney nodded. "Never thought I'd say this, but she was right: truth takes time."

Truth takes time, Sydney thought, repeating the phrase over and over again in her head. All of a sudden she felt like fireworks were going off inside her head. She pulled back, stumbled, and bent over, pressing her hands to her forehead.

"Syd! What's wrong? Should I call for help?"

She didn't say anything for a moment, eyes blinking furiously as images passed in front of her like a movie on fast forward. Vaughn crouched beside her and tried to get her to look in his eyes. He was about to call for medics when Sydney came back into focus. She let go of her head and stood slowly, looking deep into his eyes. Finally she spoke.

"I remember."

Vaughn cradled her face in his hands matching her gaze with his own. "Remember what?"

Barely above a whisper.

"Everything."

The End