Xander sat quietly, watching the crowds of people flow by. Most were simply part of the faceless masses that passed through the airport daily, but here and there his eyes picked out a face or figure of interest. Here, a mother with four children in tow walked passed, pushing a baggage cart, her face a study in harried patience. There was a young African woman in traditional dress. And there wa a man dressed in full cowboy regalia.
He glanced down at the polished wooden bar-top as his thoughts wandered between his surroundings and the events of the previous week.
Sunnydale was gone, reduced to one freaking huge crater, and the gang was headed for Cleveland. In fact they were probably already there.
Due to the stab wound Robin hadn't been able to continue on with everyone, and so they'd taken him to a hospital. The doctors had said that he would have to stay for a least a week. Neither Buffy or Giles had been willing to leave the new Hellmouth unguarded for that long, so Xander had volunteered to stay.
Robin was up and around, if a little gimpy, and Xander had seen him to his flight just an hour before. Now he just had to wait for his own.
It was just his luck: he could get a friend a ticket, business class no less, on a midmorning flight, but his kept getting bumped until he was flying coach three hours later.
Someone settled down on the stool next to him and a female voice told the bartender, "Scotch with ice."
His chest suddenly felt tight; Scotch had been Anya's favourite. Giles had introduced her to it, one evening after a triumph over the week's latest big bad. He stared down into his drink, oblivious to the world. His thumb rubbed gently at the engagement ring he had never taken off.
Minutes must have passed before the woman's voice penetrated the haze of memory.
"How long has it been?"
He looked up at her, "What?"
He examined her for a moment: straight brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, brown eyes, a high delicate bone structure, and a smattering of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Probably in her late twenties.
Her face was a study of sympathy as she said, gently, "Your fiancé. How long has it been since she died?"
She must have seen both his stiffening and the question forming because she immediately continued, "It's in your face. And you're wearing the ring of course."
Oh. Yeah. Come to think of it he probably didn't look too hot. Of course not sleeping well will do that to one.
He looked down at his drink again. "About a week."
Out of the corner of his single eye he could see her give a little nod. She said, "Sunnydale." It was a statement. "I don't mean to pry, it's just," there was a little shrug. "I still get the same expression on my face sometimes, and it's nice to have a sympathetic ear."
Almost unwillingly his gaze rose back up to meet her eyes. Sympathy, sadness, and perhaps most devastating, understanding.
Her eyes met his, frankly, without flinching. Her eyes didn't, not even once, twitch to his eye-patch. That was something he'd noticed with the gang. They kept looking at it and then away.
His vision began to blur and, blinking furiously, he looked out into the faceless crowd.
She was silent, and he was grateful for her not saying anything.
He cleared his throat and said, "You too, huh?"
"Yeah. My fiancé, was killed, about four years ago."
Killed. Not died. Killed, like Anya.
She was gazing out into the crowd just like him as she said, "It gets better, you know."
"Really?" His tone clearly said that he wasn't sure about that.
"Really," she said. There was certainty in her voice. "There are good days, when you're happy, and bad days, where all you want is to curl up and cry your heart out. But the pain does begin to fade."
"I just." he trailed off, and then tried again. "She didn't have to die. She never would have been there if it weren't for me. I'm the one that got her involved in the first place."
"She made choices too, didn't she?"
"Yeah, but-"
"No, no buts. People have to make their own choices."
He closed his mouth; that one wasn't one he could argue with.
Her voice was very soft as she finished, ".no matter how much we want to protect them."
She fell silent again and they both looked out into the crowd, he, thinking about Anya, and she, apparently, with ghosts of her own.
Surprisingly, the silence wasn't awkward. It was a silence of understanding and of shared pain. It was strange. This perfect stranger seemed to empathise more than his best friends.
Oh, they had expressed their sadness and condolences and said they worried about him, but none had really offered to talk to him. They should understand; after all Willow had lost Tara and Giles had lost Jenny, but there was some barrier there, something that neither had tried to overcome to reach out to him. And that hurt.
A pair of solders made their way along the hall outside the bar. Xander watched as the crowd just seemed to unconsciously part around them. He'd seen the same thing with Vamps in the Bronze. The people would seem to unconsciously register the presence of a predator and move out of the way.
Over the last few years, ever since nine-eleven, the military had become a familiar sight in airports. Xander was about to look away when something else caught his attention.
One man's uniform was wrong.
He looked closer. It didn't fit, not quite.
In fact there was something odd about both of them. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the more he looked the more he knew that these two were not what they appeared.
His heart sped up. Okay, the best idea would probably be to go find Airport security. He took his eyes from the two of them to find that his companion was staring at them intently as well.
On a sudden inexplicable impulse he asked, "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
Her eyes swung to his, but he noticed that she kept the two men in her peripheral vision. She said, "They're not military."
"That was my take. The question is who are they and what are they doing? Impersonating military personnel and carrying weapons on the wrong side of airport security checkpoints isn't exactly an indicator of good intentions."
"Possibly terrorist, possibly something else entirely," she said.
He kept his head turned in her direction, letting her do the observing. "Shouldn't we be going for airport security?"
She stiffened a little just prior to his question, and after it, said, "I don't think there is going to be time."
Xander risked a casual glance in the two men's direction. They had split, each moving to one side of the entrance to the restaurant across the way. He said, "They're setting something up."
"Or someone."
Xander looked her in the face again. She wasn't behaving like a normal bystander would. No, she was behaving like a professional. That meant experience, which, in this situation was more than he had. His next decision was a reflex of choice, honed by the last seven years. He was simply incapable of stepping away from a situation like this.
"So, what's the gameplan?" He asked.
Her eyes focused sharply upon his face. He could see the thoughts flickering behind her eyes, and he said, "By the way, my name is Xander Harris.
She said, "Sydney Bristow."
The air of sadness that hung about him as he'd hunched over the bar had drawn her attention. The expression on his face as he'd stared into his drink, fiddling with the ring on his finger, had been familiar enough to put and ache in her chest.
It was an expression she'd seen in the mirror.
She stared at him, keeping the two faux-solders in the corner of her vision. God, she didn't want to have to deal with this. She just wanted her dad to come meet her and take her home.
The two solders were getting ready to do something, so there wasn't much time to act. The young man in front of her had just offered to help.
Could she justify getting a civilian involved in this? He didn't act like one. There was something in his eyes and voice that spoke of wounds to his spirit that weren't consistent with him being just a random person off the street. Besides, he had picked up on the two almost as fast as she had.
She looked him in the eyes, searching for any deception and asked, "Answer me truthfully, Xander. Can you handle yourself in a fight?"
He gave her a nod.
Looking into his eyes, she believed him.
All right. She stood and tossed some cash to the bar top. He stood with her and she took his arm and steered him to the bar entrance, speaking to him with part of her attention never leaving the two men. "We're just a couple strolling over to have a bite in the restaurant." She smiled at him, slipping into character. "Relax."
They exited and moved through the crowd at a diagonal to keep their motion from drawing the eye.
Sydney drew him to a vendors cart selling dried souvenirs about fifteen feet from the restaurant entrance. "Look honey," she said. "Snow globes. Weiss loves to collec these things, one would make a great present. " In a whisper barely over the noise of the crowd she asked, "Can you see who they're zeroing in on?"
She scanned the interior of the restaurant even as he bent, ostensibly to look at one of the globes. She didn't see- Wait, there. A man had just come out of the bathroom and both of the men had shifted their balance and weapons. Oh-oh, waiting till they had a better shot at the two men wasn't an option.
She gave a laugh and leaned into him whispering into his ear, "I'll take the one on the right, you take the left. Don't let them use their guns. We can't let them start firing in this crowd."
She could feel the sudden tension in his arm. She smiled up at him while giving his arm a firm squeeze. They moved toward the doorway. They were going to pass in between the two men.
Ten feet. Five.
"Now!"
One of her hands went for the wrist holding the gun the other went for the man's face.
He was fast. He managed to twist his head aside and turned her strike into a glancing blow. It still put him off balance and she twisted the gun from his grasp. She brought it to bear on him, but he kicked up and knocked it from her grasp.
She registered yells and screams from the crow as they faced off. She got a good look at his face. He was middle-aged, brown haired, blue eyed, with a bit of a crook in his nose. He eyes went wide on seeing her.
"Julia?"
Adrenaline kicked her in the stomach. That was one of her alias's: Julia Thorne. But the only time she'd used that name was during her missing two years. Which meant that here was a lead on what had happened to her. All of the sudden this was much more than just her stumbling across a hit in a airport.
He recovered before she did and she blocked a strike to the head. As she launched her own combination a small part of her mind focused on how Xander was doing. She hadn't heard any gunshots. That had to be good.
A fist glanced off of her ribs; she managed to deflect most of it, but it opened up a space between them.
"Sydney!"
The yell came from behind her. There was a sort of meaty "thunk", and wet gurgle. She dove to the side twisting to look as she rolled and flipped back to her feet. The second gunman stood behind where she was a gun in his hands, pointed at where her back had been. Only one hand was on the gun, though. The other was at his neck where a combat knife was embedded. He scrabbled uselessly at it and bubbles of blood issued from his mouth. He dropped to his knees the gun falling to the floor.
Xander lay half prone on the ground about ten feet to the side. Blood was dripping from a split lip and his arm was extended in the follow through of the knife throw. His eyes were wide and his face pale.
She took this in a split second and returned her attention to her opponent. The man stared at his compatriot as the other dropped the rest of the way to the ground and a death rattle issued from his chest.
From the corner of her eye she saw Xander get to his feet and move to the corpse. He kneeled beside it even as Sydney resumed her motion toward the other man.
Crook nose, as she labelled him in her mind, took a step back, looked between her and Xander and then ran.
She scooped up his gun and sprinted after him.
He dodged some people and shoved others aside, but she could see that his flight was anything but random; he seemed to be making for someplace specific.
Thirty feet in front of her he kicked open a service door and disappeared through. A couple seconds behind him, she slammed it open again with her foot and spun to the side, expecting gunshots to issue from the doorway.
They didn't come.
The door began to shut but she stopped it with her foot and looked around the doorframe. An empty hallway stretched away into a sharp right turn twenty feet ahead. She padded through the doorway, holding the gun out supported by both hands. Reaching the turn she peeked around the corner.
A bullet whined past her head, blasting plaster out of the wall. She jerked back. He was down through the door at the end of the hall. She'd have-
The door behind her opened and she snapped around pointing the gun at the new arrival.
Xander stopped, eyes wide, holding his hands carefully away from his sides.
Sydney put up the gun and turned her attention back to the hallway. She grabbed a second peek before another bullet drove her back. "He's dug in the room at the end of the hallway," she said.
Xander didn't reply.
At his silence she turned to look fully at him. He was staring blankly at the far wall. His face was pale and he was absently rubbing his right hand. There was red on his fingers. Blood. Of the man he'd killed.
Oh, damn it.
"Xander."
He didn't respond.
Silently cursing herself for getting him involved in this. She switched on the guns safety and tucked it into the waist of her jeans. She stepped right in front of him, put her hands on either side of his face and forced him to look straight into her eyes.
"Xander. I know what you did makes you feel sick, but you can't give into that right now. Box it up. Wrap it up and put it away. You can deal with it later. I need you here now."
She kept eye contact. He took a deep breath and gave her a shaky nod.
She returned him a little nod and a tight, sad, smile. Then she turned back to the hall.
Xander wiped his fingers on his pant legs, trying to scrape the remaining blood off. His stomach twisted.
He'd just killed someone.
Jesus.
He could still feel the knife leaving his hand, hear the sound of its impact, hear the wet gurgle that accompanied the man trying to draw breath. He hadn't thought about doing it, he'd just looked up to see the man pointing a gun at Sydney's back and had just reacted. The knife had been in his hand after wrestling it away from the man so it had been what he'd used. He hadn't thought about what he'd been doing.
The warmth of Sydney's hands was fading from the sides of his face where she had gripped him a moment earlier.
Sydney. She'd told him to box it up, put it away, and deal with it later.
He took a deep breath, swallowing his gorge, and focused his attention on Sydney's back as she faced the hallway.
The hallway at the other end of which was a man with a gun who'd as soon shoot them as look at them. Hum, gee, I wonder why? Maybe because you killed his partner!
No! Stop it! Get a grip, Xander. You have a person who needs your support, right here, right now. Deal with it.
He took a steadying breath and whispered, "Is there any cover in the hallway?"
She glanced back at him, saying, "Not a bit-"
Her arm lashed out and jerked him flat against the wall while her gun swept up and sent too shots down toward the door they'd entered by.
Xander caught a glimpse of a man with a gun diving back behind the cover of the door.
Shit! He grasped at a faint hope, and suggested, "Airport security?"
"No; they would have identified themselves." Her voice was tense. "Damn it. I was afraid he had back up."
Xander glanced toward the door and then to the hallway, men with guns on both sides. They were so screwed.
Sydney grabbed his hand and said, "Don't let go."
She aimed the gun toward a box on the far wall of the gunman's hallway and pulled the trigger. There was a shower of sparks and the lights went out. A moment later the emergency lights cut in bathing the hall in a glaring white glow.
Sydney's gun barked twice as she put a bullet through each light, dropping this section of the hall into darkness. He could see her silhouetted against the light reflected around the corner.
She said, "Get ready to run."
Crouching, she leaned around the corner and her gun spoke twice more. There was pitch blackness. She yanked his hand, hard. They were moving, round the corner, through the darkness toward the gunman.
A muzzle flash from ahead lit up the hall and a bullet whined past them. Sydney yanked him to the side as darkness locked around them again. There was a second muzzle flash and a bullet whined through the space they were in a moment before. They were almost to the doorway.
Sydney yanked down and Xander followed the motion, an instant before the gun spoke again and he felt a bullet pass above them.
They were at the doorway. Sydney's hand yanked away from his, and there was the sound of flesh impacting flesh. Scuffles, grunts, the sound of something metallic hiting the floor echoed through the space.
An arm brushed him. It was too big: definitely not Sydney's arm. He latched onto it and twisted.
There was muffled swear and an elbow impacted his side.
If it wasn't for the whole life-in-danger thing he might have chuckled; he'd had vampires slap him harder than that.
The man squirmed violently trying to escape his grip. Xander just squeezed and reached for another body part with his other hand.
There was a sudden flood of reflected light. Someone had opened the door around the bend in the hall. In the grey half-light he could see the man he had a grip on, and Sydney standing about a foot to his left in a fighting stance.
The man reached down beneath his vest and yelled something in a language Xander didn't understand.
Sydney obviously did; her eyes widened and she spun into a roundhouse kick that whistled by Xander's head with only inches to spare. It hit the man squarely in the side of the head knocking him out of Xander's grasp and sending him skidding to the floor.
Sydney grabbed Xander by the shoulder and practically threw him through the door. He stumbled back into the hallway, getting out a confused, "Wha-"
Sydney began to sprint back down the hallway pulling him with her as she yelled, "Bomb!"
Oh shit! He had time to think before a wall slammed into him from behind.
Thud, thud, thud. What the hell was that noise? Pain and nausea flooded through him, accompanied by a ringing in his ears. Thud, thud, thud. Oh, wait a minute. That was his heartbeat.
Thud, thud, thud. God damn it! Stop that you infernal thing.
Infernal thing? He was dying and he'd finally succumbed to his inner Giles.
He layed still, trying to get everything to stop hurting, until he was sure he wasn't going to immediately drop dead. Drop figuratively speaking, considering he was already prone.
He opened his eyes. Nothing. He couldn't see a thing. His heart started beating faster, his breathing was suddnely quick. Where the hell was he? He began to be aware of other sounds through the ringing. Creaks, pops, things that sounded like material settling.
What- The bomb. Explosion. Sydney!
It came out more a croak, than what he'd intended. "Sydney?"
"Sydney?" said again. He began to sit up, to move. His entire body felt battered, but he didn't think anything was broken.
His hand brushed warm flesh. "Sydney?" There was her arm. Shoulder. What was. soft, round, moving slightly, and- Whoops.
He jerked his hand back. Don't touch that, Xander.
Well, at least he knew now that she was breathing. Of course that fact she hadn't reacted when he touched her um, chest, meant she was probably unconscious.
He went over the rest of her body, touching lightly, searching for any injury. There didn't seem to be any thing beyond what felt like a few scrapes.
Okay situation: I can't see a thing and Sydney is unconscious. He reached his hand up to his face. Probing gently at his good eye. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. That was good.
Maybe.
Because that meant there was another reason why he couldn't see. He began to feel around himself in the dark. There was debris everywhere. He tried to stand up but banged his head into something solid.
Swearing, he crouched back down. After a few minutes of investigation he'd come to a rather grim conclusion.
The bomb had collapsed the part of the building they were in. They were trapped in a pocket created by a girder falling over them at just the right angle.
His freakish luck.
He wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. Any way you looked at it there wasn't much he could do. So he sat back down next to Sydney. Took her hand, and prayed that someone upstairs was watching out for them.
Consciousness crept slowly back and the first thing she was aware of was that her entire body ached. The second fact that reached her mind was that someone was holding her hand.
That was different.
Usually when she regained consciousness she was tied up and being tortured. Not that she felt particularly good at the moment, but it was a general ache, not the sharp specific pains associated with someone trying to hurt her.
There was a ringing in her ears. That was a familiar sensation. She'd been blown up, or nearly so, enough times to become well acquainted with it.
So, there was an explosion- It came back to her. Airport. Gunmen. Xander. The man had yelled a warning to his compatriots, in Mandarin of all languages, about setting off a bomb.
She cracked her eyes open. It was utterly dark. She couldn't see a thing. By feel, she wasn't in a hospital bed, which didn't bode well. And if she wasn't in a hospital then the person holding her hand would be.
"Xander?"
here was a shifting beside her and his voice said, "Sydney?"
"Slightly battered, but alive."
"I was beginning to get worried."
She started to sit up and she felt his other hand on her arm.
"Watch your head," he said. "The ceiling is a little low."
She made it to a sitting position, feeling a little wobbly but okay. "How long was I out?"
"Not too sure. I was unconscious for a while and my watch doesn't have a light."
She stretched out her neck and back while muttering, "Why get a watch without a light?"
"Yeah, well." he sounded almost embarrassed. "It's a snoopy watch."
She paused in mid-stretch, feeling a smile tugging at her lips. "Snoopy?"
"Yeah."
Yup, definitely embarrassed. She squelched her amusement. "So, are we where I think we are?"
"If you mean are we buried alive in a collapsed section of a building? Then, yeah, we're right where you think."
There was a sudden loud creak and the sound of shifting from above. Something powdery and smelling of plaster rained down on them. Her heart lurched and the hand holding hers was suddenly squeezing very tight. She reached her other hand over and squeezed his hands between hers. Obviously the pocket they were in wasn't entirely stable.
He gave a slightly shaky chuckle. "No worries, this situation is minor compared to all the others over the years. After all, in this case I can only die."
She'd had the feeling that the shadows in his eyes were from more than the death of his fiancé. "Only?" she asked.
Since there wasn't much she could do about their situation she might as well get to know the person she could be spending her last moments with.
"Uh, yeah." He sounded reluctant to elaborate. "I don't think I 'm going to explain that since you'll think I'm a lunatic. But if.no, when we get out of here. Go look up Sunnydale. Death statistics, missing persons, the works. I think you'll get what I mean."
Death statistics? Okay, that was an odd answer. The ceiling gave another loud groan and they both jerked.
After a moment he said, "So, now that we've established I'm a weirdo. What about you?"
He was trying to take both their minds off the situation.
"Well," she said. "What would you like to know?"
"Ah, life history? That sort of thing. It's not everyday that a beautiful woman sits down next to me in a bar and strikes up a conversation."
Huh: gregarious when faced with death. That was a new one; most of the guys at the CIA would be grimly serious in a similar situation.
"Well," she started. "I was born-"
"That's encouraging."
"Shush, you asked."
"Right, sorry."
"I was born to Laura and Jack Bristow. My mom died in a car accident when I was just a few years old. My dad's been rather distant for most of my life, but we've been working on that for the last few years. He and I have gotten a lot closer. In fact sometimes he can be a little overprotective."
God she hated lying. Best to keep it as simple and truthful as possible. Of course he'd probably already guessed there was something unusual about her, but he probably hadn't figured out that she was an agent for the CIA.
"A dad that's over protective," he said. "Must be nice."
There was a note in his voice that she couldn't immediately place. Bitterness? Longing?
She took a stab and said, "I'm guessing from your tone that your dad is somewhat different?"
He gave a laugh that was definitely a bit bitter and said, "Yeah." He didn't say anything else and there was an uncomfortable silence.
"Well, that's one deep dark secret from me," he said. "How about you?"
Deep dark secrets? Did she have any that weren't classified?
"Well," she said. "My favorite sport is miniature golf."
He made a "pfssst" sound. "Oh, come on," he said. "You're not getting away with just that. There's gotta be something more."
Oh, if he only knew. She took a deep breath and said, "I have amnesia, and I can't remember the last two years of my life." That fact wasn't classified, only the circumstances around it.
Silence. No joke or funny comment was forthcoming.
She said, "I was knocked out in my house, and I woke up two years latter in Hong Kong."
There were several more seconds of silence and then he said, "It must be hard."
"Not knowing where I was during that time or what happened to me? Yeah, I have nightmares about it."
"That would be hard too."
She paused, "that too?" and then said, "You were thinking of something else?"
"You had a life, right? Friends, loved ones, a job, a life. And suddenly everything around you is different. You don't fit. Everyone has moved on. The place that was yours is gone."
Her chest felt tight and she furiously blinked away unexpected tears.
She must have made a noise because his grip on her hand tightened and he said, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"No, It's all right." She wiped at her eyes with her free hand. "You just caught me off guard. I didn't expect you to."
"Understand? See?" She felt his shrug through his hand. "Most people don't. The one guy who did put my eye out."
She looked sharply toward him even though he was invisible in the darkness. Put his eye out?
"Anyway," he hesitated. "Sydney, you make your life just by living it. The life you had two years ago may be gone, but you do have the one you're living now. And you do fit in it, because it's yours. It probably doesn't have all the things you wanted from your old one, but it does have things that the other didn't: opportunities, friends. Like the one you made today." He gave her hand a squeeze.
The ceiling gave a long drawn out groan and as it faded she heard Xander mutter, "For however long that lasts."
The beam that held up a good portion of their ceiling definitely felt lower. Xander ran his fingers along the length of it still feeling the vibrations from its last motion. Air had to be seeping in from somewhere, due to the fact that they hadn't suffocated.
Swallowing hard he wrestled his attention back to his companion, who sat shoulder to shoulder with him. "History, huh?" he said.
They had been talking for hours, each trying to take the other's mind off the possible imminence of death. He liked her. Sydney seemed to be a singularly cool individual. And she was way smarter than him. Beyond Willow smart.
"Yeah," she said. "For a long time I wanted to teach, still do really. But first there was my job with the bank and then, of course, I went missing. Now there's my job with the State Department. Everything just got twisted around from where I'd wanted it to go."
"Now, the bank job was one where you travelled a lot?"
"Yes, though the State Department also has me hopping around."
"I've never been farther from Sunnydale than Oxnard. And now here I am moving to Cleveland."
"Travel can be nice, but sometimes I'd like to stay in one place for a while and just enjoy the quiet."
"Yeah," He said softly. "I like the quiet."
He could almost see her cock her head at him, but he didn't say anything more.
"So," she said. "We've talked about what I want to do, but what do you want?"
He shifted uncomfortably and shrugged, knowing she'd feel the motion. "I don't know that there's much I can do. I mean I never got to college."
"There are lots of people who don't go to college, Xander. There are still lots of things to do. You must have wanted to do something."
"I just never really thought that I actually had options, Sydney. With my family, and Sunnydale in general there were two possibilities: either I would simply never amount to anything, or I wouldn't live long enough for it to matter."
There was a moment of silence and then she said, "You've been editing pretty heavily on both the subjects of you family and Sunnydale." There was a question in her voice. "More lunatic stuff?"
She had noticed. She didn't sound angry, though. Just concerned.
"Sunnydale, yes." He said. "My family, however, is just unpleasant to talk about."
"I'm sorry."
"You don't need to be sorry, you didn't have anything to do with the parents I got."
Her voice was gentle, "Not what I meant."
He felt her arm shift and her hand touched his wrist and then felt its way down to take hold of his hand. She gave it a squeeze.
Xander found he had to clear his throat before he could speak again.
"So," he said. "In a transparent attempt to change the subject, I'll ask, where did you learn to fight?"
"A number of places," she responded. "Most of my training was Krav Magna."
That twigged something in Xander's memory and he asked, "Isn't that used by a lot of law enforcement agencies?"
"The Israeli military were the ones to start it. It's quick to learn and very applicable. It seemed like a good idea."
"Well, it paid off today." He paused, another thought coming to mind. "Speaking of unusual talents, what language did that guy yell in?"
"Mandarin."
"Which you obviously speak."
He felt her shrug again. "I had to do a lot of travelling, and I like languages."
"Oh, how many do you speak?"
"Seventeen."
"Seven-" he stopped, gave a chuckle, and shook his head.
"What?"
"Nothing," he said. "It's just taken me twenty three years to get English, and as people will tell you, I'm still not done."
"It's just a talent."
Talents. There was one talent was certain he had.
"Carpentry," he said.
There was a pause, "Pardon?"
"You asked what I wanted to do. I was a pretty fair carpenter. Well, before the eye thing. Now it's a little more difficult."
"You enjoyed it?"
"Yeah, it was one of the few things in my life that I did totally on my own. Where I actually accomplished something." He paused and then said, "There were other things I was proud of, but the carpentry, that was a different kind of proud."
"Are you going to start it again when you get to Cleveland?"
"Yeah, I think I probably will. Aside from Giles, Robin, and maybe Willow, the guys don't have all that much in the way of saleable skills. And with the eye, I'll just have to be more careful."
"I'm sure you can do it Xander."
The statement was delivered quietly with nothing but certainty in her voice. It caused him to turn his head toward her.
She seemed to sense his regard because she said, "Xander, the man who took out one gunman, and helped me chase down another, can do anything he puts his mind to."
The gunman. It hit him suddenly, and he could once again feel the warmth of the man's blood on his fingers. He could see the glassy stare of the man's eyes toward the ceiling, fixed in death. It was hard to breath.
"Xander?"
A hand touched his face, gentle fingertips on his cheek turned him toward her.
"Xander? I'm sorry; I shouldn't have brought that up now."
"Sorry, you don't have to be sorry. You didn't." he trailed off. There was a silence from her, and he felt like he was crumpling in on himself. Then she spoke, saying, "I did."
That simple statement got his attention. "But."
"Not here," she said. "But I did. It was protecting someone else: Dixon. I hadn't known him long at that point, but he became a dear friend. I know exactly how you feel Xander, because you were protecting someone too. You were protecting me."
The tightness of his chest began to ease as she continued, "You did what you had to. He didn't leave you any choice. No one will condemn you for that, Xander. I don't."
She sat silently beside him as he got himself under control. Taking a deep shuddering breath he said, "Does this mean we have to become friends too?"
He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, "Yeah, it's kind of a tradition."
"Well-"
He was cut off by a horrendous grinding noise from above. Plaster, rubble and various objects rained down onto them. He felt Sydney go rigid beside him as shudders went through that they were sitting on. The beam keeping them from being crushed was letting go. Xander knew, in that moment, that he was about to die.
He twisted around and threw himself over Sydney. Futile, he knew, but he had to try.
And the world crashed down onto him.
Sydney shifted in her chair, trying to ease the discomfort of the bruising on her torso. The hospital chair was more comfortable than the plastic torture devices out in the hall, but it was still a hospital chair.
A slight fluctuation in the steady bleep of the heart monitor jerked her attention back to the figure in the hospital bed. She sat up straight, ignoring the twinges of the strains and bruises.
"Xander?" she said.
No answer. He remained as still and silent as he had the last three days. Frowning, she noted the tubes feeding him oxygen through his nose were slightly off kilter. She leaned forward and adjusted them.
A sound near the door caught her attention. Looking up she met her father's gaze. She voiced what he probably already knew, "No change."
She looked back down at Xander's face and she heard her dad move from his position in the door. A hand settled on her shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze.
"This isn't your fault, Sydney."
She looked up at her dad. Jack Bristow was an experienced CIA agent but when it came to his daughter he wasn't always objective. "How is it not my fault? I got him involved in this." Looking away she gave a bitter laugh. "I should know better by now."
He crouched down in front of her and said, "He would have involved himself anyway."
She looked back to him, hearing something unexpected in his voice.
"I did the check that you asked for," he said. "There are a number of files on Sunnydale."
"On a town in southern California?"
He nodded. "Most of them are classified need to know. I can't get at them. One file I was able to shake loose," he inclined his head toward the figure on the bed. "Was Alexander's."
"Xander has a file?"
"Yes," her father said. "In three different government agencies, and even then it was compartmentalized. Most of what he has done to earn the file is blacked out. But the Psych profile is there. And Sydney, he would have involved himself even if you hadn't been there. That's just his nature. If you hadn't been there he would probably be dead."
She stared into her father's eyes and the tight knot in her chest eased. Her eyes then turned to the figure in the bed. Of course the fact that he had a file wasn't reassuring. Civilians having government files was not a good signal.
Her father obviously picked up on her thoughts, saying, "I don't think you need to worry about why he has the file."
She looked back to her father. "What?"
"The impression I got from the files was that agencies that classified them thought he was something of a," he paused as if searching for a word. "Hero."
After a moment a smile touched her features. "I could believe that," She said. "He handled himself well, and he saved my life."
Her father nodded, "I read your report. The FBI is handling the investigation, but I'm doing my own inquiry into the gunman that recognized you."
On an impulse she leaned forward and hugged him. "Thanks dad." His arms went tentatively around her after a moment's hesitation.
After they pulled apart he glanced to the bed and then back to her and offered, "Judging by the amount of the file that was blacked out, he's been through a lot. He'll be alright."
She didn't say anything, just nodded.
He stood back up. "I have to go and give a report on the Audi investigation." He looked at her, hesitating and then said, "You should get some rest."
"I will. But I think I'd have a little trouble sleeping right now."
He left after another hesitation. He'd seemed about to make another comment, but stopped.
She stared after him for long seconds. Emotions. They seemed to be the only thing that could make her father hesitate. Understandable considering that for many years it was either not express what he was feeling or die.
It was a situation Sydney had come to understand far too well.
She sighed and turned back to the bed. The steady rhythm of Xander's heart remained unchanged. She took some comfort from that.
When the ceiling had caved in, Xander had took the brunt of the falling material. It should have killed them both, but the beam had caught on something again, just inches from crushing them. It had still put enough weight on them to break several of Xander's rib and make it extremely difficult for her to breath. She had blacked out sometime during the interminable period she was trapped. Xander had been knocked unconscious in the initial collapse and he hadn't woken up since.
She had returned to consciousness briefly when the rescue teams pulled them from the rubble, and had woken at the hospital hours later. Her injuries weren't serious, but she had a prescription for rest from the doctors. She'd set up camp in Xander's room when the doctors had released her.
The afternoon passed with no change in Xander's condition and Sydney was returning to Xander's room from the hospital's cafeteria when her cell phone rang.
She checked the phone number of the caller. The number ID was blocked. Someone was calling her from a secured line.
"Hello?"
"Sydney, hey. I found something I thought I should ask you about. Because, well, you obviously care about the guy an."
Even if she hadn't known the voice the rambling way of speaking would still be a dead giveaway. "Marshall?"
"Oh, yeah! Yeah it's me. Listen, I was doing a optimising of the joint computer network. Because this guy at the FBI made a really novice mistake, I mean really-"
The tired ache in her chest and back made her cut off his ramble. "Marshal?"
"Right, the point. Um, well, I know care about this Alexander Harris, obviously, because you sitting at the hospital and-"
A sweet as he was she couldn't deal with this right now. "Marshal, please?"
He said, in a burst, "I found someone trying to hack into the network. The person seems to be trying to find out the condition of your friend."
Someone trying to find out about Xander? Who would. "Willow." He'd tolder he a bit about his friends, she was the one with the talent for computers.
"Huh?"
"Can you direct what they find?"
"You mean control what information they get? Yeah, sure."
Sydney thought for a moment then said, "Keep her out of anything sensitive, but let her find out that Xander is all right."
"Uh, okay. Are you sure."
"They're just concerned friends, Marshall."
"Okay."
"Thanks."
"You welcome." His voice sounded like he'd begun to turn away from the phone, but then got louder again, as if he'd suddenly turned back.
"Oh, and I just wanted to say that I'm.well, really glad your okay. I mean everyone here is, you know. We were kinda worried about you."
"Thanks Marshall."
"I'll see you at work in a week."
"Okay."
He hung up and Sydney put the phone away.
She entered Xander's room and was about to reclaim her seat when the figure on the bed twitched.
"Xander?" She leaned over him.
A brown eye slowly opened and blinked groggily.
His voice was barely a whisper. "Sydney?"
Her smile was impossible to control, not that she really wanted to.
Xander tossed the spoon back on the tray, next to the small pile of gray stuff that the nurse swore was mashed potato.
No wonder people in hospitals lost weight.
He pushed the swiveling table aside, settled back into the bed, and once again wondered when Sydney would be getting here.
She'd stayed for a little while, last night, when he'd woken up. But Xander had seen the exhaustion in her face and had insisted she get some rest. She had left promising to be back the next day.
He'd already had visitors this morning. Two FBI agents wanting to ask him questions. After their interrogation they had stated "that he should not disclose the events, or his involvement therein", at the airport to anyone. And they said that someone would be giving him notice of what he was allowed to talk about. They'd actually had him sign a form to that effect.
Sydney's voice broke into his thoughts. "Hey."
He looked up to see her standing in the door. "Hey there. Feeling better?"
She gave him a smile saying, "Quite a bit. You?"
He made a show of thinking about it and then said, as if coming to a momentous conclusion, "Excellent, all things considered."
She made her way from the door to the chair next to the bed. As she sat she asked, "The ribs not giving you too much trouble?"
"Nah," he said. "You know, the usual: only when I breath, move, think." He followed her gaze to the IV that was slowly emptying into his veins. "Yeah, they took away the good stuff this morning and put me on this. I'm already missing the morphine. You think if I faked withdrawal they'd give me more?"
"Somehow I don't think so."
"Well darn it," he said. "Then what good are they."
She gave a little shrug, saying, "They may have taken away your drugs but at least they're feeding you. I had to cook my own breakfast."
"Food," he gave her a look that clearly asked, what are you smoking? "This isn't food. I haven't quite nailed down what it is yet, but it's certainly not edible."
She raised an eyebrow and said, "Yeah? Well, neither is this, but I'm still sneaking it in for you."
He had a moment of confusion as she reached into her bag to retrieve something. Then-
"Twinkies!"
Xander shot a glance out the door toward the nurse's desk as he snatched the package from Sydney. "You beautiful. radiant, goddess of a woman. Can I marry you?"
Sydney chuckled as he tore into the packaging and then she said, "Not without flowers, and my dad would probably insist upon meeting you."
Getting the wrapper off he held the Twinkie up to the light before, with rapture, stuffing it into his mouth. He glanced back to Sydney. Her eyebrows climbed as she watched the Twinkie disappear.
"Ow dif wou nonw?"
She blinked, "What?"
"Ow-"
"Oh. How did I know?"
He nodded, vigorously.
"When we were talking you told me that you friend, Willow, would keep a stash of Twinkies at her house for when you visited." She smiled. "It was a safe bet that you liked them."
He swallowed the last of the Twinkie and said, "Well, thank you. If I could get out of this bed, I'd kiss your feet."
"I don't think we need to go that far. You did save my life after all. I owe you a lot more than a Twinkie."
His good mood faded and he felt the smile on his face become fixed. He realized he'd begun to rub his hands. Some part of his mind trying to remove blood that was no longer there. He stilled them even as she glanced down at the motion.
He changed the subject fast, not wanting her to comment.
"Friends don't owe friends anything, Sydney. And you're my friend, right."
Her gaze moved from his hands to his eyes and he knew he wasn't fooling her for a second. But she didn't comment on his motions, she just looked back at him with a complicated welter of emotions on her face and said, in a soft voice, "Yeah, I am."
He looked down at his hands. The silence in the room stretched out for painful seconds.
"I did what you wanted."
He looked up at her and said, "What?"
"Sunnydale statistics. I looked them up."
He closed down, not giving anything away. "And?"
"The numbers were frightening," she held his gaze steadily. "On multiple levels. Twelve cemeteries, a death rate that surpasses any major American city, the number of missing persons is larger than the populations of some towns, and some very odd reports from the local authorities."
"Yup," he said. "That would be good old Sunnyhell."
How much could he tell her? She clearly wanted to know more but he didn't want to spend any time in a rubber room. So he said, you really don't want to know what went on there, Sydney. Trust me, you really don't." He gave a little chuckle and continued. "Not that anyone who hadn't seen it would believe me."
She gazed at him, silent for a moment and then said, "You might be surprised at what I'd believe."
"Maybe," he said. "But I've told people before, and they pretty much freaked out. One of my friends spent time in a mental institution because she told people about it. No one would believe her."
She was silent again and he just held her gaze. There was no anger in her eyes, just concern, puzzlement, and worry.
"I won't try and force you to tell me. But I would like to hear, when you're ready. " She reached out and squeezed his hand. "If only because it concerns my friend."
He nodded, grateful that she wasn't going to push. He'd lost enough people to the weirdness that was Sunnydale. Losing friends to it's memory was not something he wanted to do. But at the same time he didn't want to leave her in the dark, he had to interject some type of warning.
"Sydney," he said. "Just listen to the next thing I say. Don't respond, just think about it."
Her eyebrows came together, but she nodded.
"You know all the stories of things that go bump in the night, all the creatures of legend? Some of them aren't as," he paused, searching for the right word. "Fictional as you might think."
He studied her face for some clue as to what she was thinking. She was confused, but taking him seriously. So he continued, "Two pieces of advice: one, read up on them, you never know if it will come in handy, and, two, don't go out at night alone. Only with friends." He shrugged. "You probably won't need it; most people go their whole life without coming in contact, but I'd rather you be safe than sorry. I've already lost too many friends."
The last remark was delivered at a whisper and he saw both concern and understanding in her eyes.
He took a deep breath, taking the moment to cast about for a safer topic.
"I had two FBI agents in here today." He decided on. "Asking me all about what happened."
She nodded, taking the change in topic in stride, and said, "I know. I had to give a statement as well. Being employed by the government, of course, it was in triplicate."
"They said I couldn't talk about it and that someone would be by to give me the public story."
"Yes, that would be me."
"You?"
"Yeah. I was given the story earlier and the people in charge seem to think our stories should match. Just in case."
"For the government that makes a strange amount of sense."
"The official story is simple. You saw the two gunmen and tried to stop them from shooting someone."
"But that's true."
"Yes, up to that point. But here is where it differs: you don't know who the woman was who was also involved. You didn't get a good look at her and you have no idea where she went. As far as you know I wasn't involved in that. You meet me when you were chasing the gunman and saved me from being killed by the bomb."
He stared at her. The government didn't want it known that Sydney was involved. Why? As he looked searchingly at her all of the little inconstancies and oddities he noticed gelled. He wasn't entirely sure what it all meant but he could see enough to ask, "You don't just work for the state department do you?"
She looked unhappy as she said, "I can't say anything to that Xander."
"Classified?"
She didn't say anything.
"So, I'm supposed to lie about what happened. What about my friends? Do I lie to them too?"
Sydney actually flinched.
There was a miserable look in her eyes as she said, "Yes, I'm sorry. I understand. Oh, believe me, I understand. And I don't want for you to have to do that. It's an awful thing to have to live day to day with."
From the tone of her voice and the look in her eyes the subject was something she had lots of experience with. He felt a rush of sympathy and took hold of her hand.
Well, if Sydney had been able to do it he could at least try. It was the law after all. And it wasn't like he hadn't lied to the guys before.
She looked down at their clasped hands and said, "I've come to believe that, sometimes, lying to those you care about can be an act of love."
As she looked back up and met his eyes, Xander understood.
Weiss glanced up from the report, to where Sydney was frowning at the computer screen, and said "This thing reads like casualty statistics from a war zone."
"Yeah," she murmured, distractedly, as her eyes skimmed the articles she was paging through on the screen.
Weiss continued to page through the collection of papers Sydney had been hoarding on her desk. "Jesus," he said. "Half this guy's high school class is either dead, missing, insane, or-" He paused and his eyebrows shot up. "Recombinant gene therapy? Fish DNA? What the hell is that about?"
"Don't know," Sydney said, still distracted. "Intend to find out."
Weiss looked at her for a moment then looked back to the papers and after a moments pause said, "Why do we even have these records? Shouldn't they have been in the High School when the town got deep sixed?"
Sydney finally looked away from the screen and at him and said, "Blown up."
"What?"
"The original High School was blown up. The one that sunk with the town was rebuilt."
"Blown up." Wiess stated, then asked, "What happened?"
"I'm not sure. The official story says there was a gas leak ."
"From your tone, I'm thinking your not buying it?"
"No," she said. "Too many discrepancies. The photos of the area show that the explosion pattern was not what would have occurred with a gas leak. Somebody set off a bomb."
"Somebody blow up the High School? Jeez, talk about every student's dream." He shook his head. "But why?"
She briefly glanced back at the screen and said, "Here is where it starts getting weird. Various news agencies have eyewitnesses report seeing a giant snake.
Weiss eyebrows hitched a little. "Snake. Like a python or Boa?"
"No, like a hundred plus foot snake chowing down on the attendees of the graduation."
He stared at her in silence.
She shrugged. "I know how it sounds."
"Mass hallucination?" He suggested.
She gave a little negative shake of her head. " If that's the case then the entire town has a history of mass hallucination. And, frankly, after so many uses, with no explanation or further investigation, it is stretched way beyond its credibility."
She reached into the sheaf of papers he was holding and pulled one out. "The official report was lacking the snake or any of the other oddities. In fact any official report that came from the town of Sunnydale was completely lacking in any mention of odd or suspicious happenings. It looks like someone in the town government was sanitizing the reports."
"Someone was covering something up?"
"That's what it looks like," she said. "The government apparently investigated at some point. Which, in reference to you original question," she gestured to the papers he was holding. "Is where those come from."
"The government was keeping files on a high school in southern California."
It wasn't really a question, but Sydney said, anyway, "Yes, and certain of its students."
He looked at her sharply, catching her meaning. "Xander."
"Yeah. I've tried to get access to them, but I don't have clearance. Dad was barely able to shake anything loose."
He hesitated for a moment and asked, "Good or bad?"
Not everyone on her past had been who they appeared to be, and she appreciated his attempt at delicacy. She hastened to reassure him, "Good, at least as far as Dad could tell."
Weiss wasn't about to question Jack Bristow's analysis.
"So," he said. "To sum up: we think that something was going on in Sunnydale. We have no idea what, but the government was aware of it ,investigated, and then buried it so deep even your dad couldn't dig it up."
She nodded. "That says it." Glancing at the screen again she said, "Xander gave me a rather oblique warning about something, and I haven't quite figured it out, yet."
She frowned, staring at the screen, and muttered, "But I might be starting to."
"Oh?"
She glanced back at him and shook her head. "I'll tell you when I know I'm not crazy."
"Syd," he said in a dry tone. "You've always been crazy. But we love you anyway. Whatever it is won't make a difference."
"I don-" Her watch bleeped at her.
He head jerked around to look at the clock. "Damn. I'm going to be late." She stood, saying, "I've got to pick up Xander at the Hospital and take him to the airport."
Sydney pulled into the hospital parking lot a half hour latter. On time, she noted, as she glanced at her watch. Why the couldn't the stoplights be that cooperative when she was chasing, or running from, someone?
Making her way to Xander's floor she gave a small nod to the plainclothes police officer on duty. When the news agencies had latched onto Xander as the one who had stopped the "terrorist act" law enforcement had thought it best to have someone keeping a eye on Xander. Just in case.
Sydney stopped at the nurses station and, giving a smile to the familiar face of the nurse, said, "I'm here to pick up Alexander."
"I think he's just getting ready Miss. We were a little surprised to have him leave so quickly. He could use a couple more days of bed rest."
Sydney gave a little shrug and said, "Trying to avoid the news hounds. The date of his release was leaked to the press as a few days from now."
"Ah," the nurse made an understanding sound. "Keeping him away from the vultures." The woman paused, gazing at Sydney in a speculative manner. "He is such a nice young man, we've been a little surprised that you're the only real visitor he's had. Are you his girlfriend?"
"No. Just a friend. He hasn't had other visitors because he doesn't live around here."
The nurse hesitated for a moment, seeming to internally debate something. "Have you known him long?"
The nurses hesitancy was setting off warnings in Sydney's head. She answered, "Not a long time. But I think I've been getting to know him pretty well. Is there something wrong?"
"I don't know for certain. Just keep an eye on him." At Sydney's questioning look the nurse elaborated. "Apart from all the recent injuries, there is evidence of a great many older injuries. A lot of them. Far more then anyone his age should accumulate. Some were relatively recent, others seemed to date to his childhood."
A flash of anger made Sydney's lips tighten. The news wasn't unexpected, considering what Xander had implied. But it was unpleasant to hear it confirmed. She calmed herself and said, "I'd guessed as much, and I'm looking into it. Thanks for being concerned."
The nurse gave a sad smile and said, "What else am I suppose to be?"
Some noises from the direction of Xander's room drew their attention.
"Well," the nurse said. "Sounds like he's almost ready. Make sure to give him our best, dear." she made a gesture obviously meant to include the nursing staff. "We've grown rather fond of him."
Sydney caught sight of Xander stepping out of his room and as his face lit up in a smile, she answered with one of her own. He moved, a little stiffly, down the hall toward them.
"Hey, Sydney."
"Morning, Xander."
He turned to the nurse and said, "Ah, fair lady. My chauffeur is here. I must take my leave."
Sydney allowed one eyebrow to rise at the word "chauffeur". She watched as the nurse gave him a hug.
"Take care of yourself, Xander."
"Always do, it's the rest of the world that doesn't."
Sydney noticed the orderly, pushing a wheel chair moments before Xander did.
"A wheel chair, cool!"
He settled into it and, taking hold of the wheels for a moment rocked it back and forth. Looking up at Sydney he said, "Think you can get hold of a second one? I'll race ya!"
Sydney laughed, even as the nurse said, "No you won't. You'll undo all the healing that you manged to accomplish and put yourself right back into that bed."
Xander sighed in apparent remorse. Though whether for worrying the nurse or loosing the chance at a race, Sydney couldn't tell.
"Time to go," Sydney said. "You've got a plane to catch."
"Right. Bye, guys." He waved to the staff as Sydney took hold of the handles on the chair. "Thanks for everything."
A chorus of goodbyes followed them as the made for the elevator.
"Sydney," Xander's voice was low. "That guy is following us."
She glanced at the other man and said, "That's you police guard, Xander. One of them has been on duty round the clock since you got here."
"A Cop? I had a cop?"
She leaned down and said into his ear, making her voice menacing and not allowing him to see her smile. "Yes. Apparently you have a chauffeur, too."
His hands tightened on the chair as she suddenly sped up.
"Uh, Sydney? That was a joke. You know that. Right?"
Xander stepped away from the counter after thanking the ticketing agent. He stepped out of the roped off area to where Sydney was waiting. He held up the tickets.
"First class? Did you have anything to do with this?"
She grinned impishly at him and said, "Not directly. My dad was simply appreciative of the fact that you saved my life. Though even if he hadn't done it, I would have, and there were three other people in the office that suggested it."
"You must be well liked."
She gave an embarrassed half shrug. "Any of us would have done it for anyone else."
He gaging her embarrassment decided not to rib her about it and changed the subject, saying, "So, will I ever get to meet the elusive Jack Bristow?"
They started toward the security checkpoints and she said, "He does want to meet you, and technically I suppose he already has, you were just unconscious at the time. He would have visited again, but the last week has been insanely busy for him."
Sydney fell into a brief silence as they approached the lines to the x-ray machines. he glanced at her, wondering, before she spoke again. "Xander, I know you don't want to talk about Sunnydale and the stuff relating to that."
He stopped stiffening, feeling his gut tightening up.
Sydney stopped too and, looking him straight in the eye, said, "I think I've figured out your warning. I'm not going to push you, but I'd like to ask you one question. Please?"
Taking a deep breath, with a feeling of dread, he said, "Okay."
"Is the supernatural real?"
It was a bit of jolt to hear the question outright like that. He should have expected it. Considering how intelligent she was even his vague warning would have practically been a road map for her. Now the question was did she believe it or was she humoring him?
He let out the breath, trusting her, saying, "Yes."
She continued to look into his eyes for another few seconds, then she nodded slowly. "Okay."
He blinked dumbly, more than a little surprised at her easy acceptance. "Just, okay?"
"I told you I wouldn't push. You told me to go read up on it, so I will."
"Alright." He gave a little relieved chuckle. "I just expected a more extreme reaction."
"It's a shock, but I've seen a lot of things I didn't think were possible, and, yet, somehow they were." She paused for a moment and then said. "You realize I checked up on Sunnydale, right?" She waited for his nod and continued, "I haven't seen any of the stuff the reports alluded to between the lines, but you're saying it's there. So, until I know otherwise, it's there."
He stared at her silently, and after a moment she asked, "What?"
"You keep surprising me."
"Why?"
"You've only known me for a week, and yet you're believing me on something as major as this."
"It's trust, Xander. It can be earned, and it can also be given. You're my friend and I trust you. That means that even if you tell me something that's hard to believe I'm going to believe it. I trust you."
She gave him a smile and said, "So don't abuse it, huh."
He seemed to be having a hard time getting his mouth working properly but, after a moment he managed a soft, "Thank you."
She cocked her head with an inquiring expression.
God, how did he put that into words. The fear, the distrust, the hurt feelings, the fractured relationships, all the emotional traumas of the last few months, hell the last couple years, compared to the simple uncomplicated warmth of one person saying, and demonstrating, her trust in him. "I'd almost forgotten what that felt like."
He saw the sadness and concern touch her features and pulled out a joke to lighten the mood; he didn't want to leave on a sad note. But before he could say anything the overhead speakers blared out, "Pre-boarding call for flight 674 to Cleavland. Gate 24."
Sydney said, "That's your flight."
He found he had a lump in his throat. "Guess it's time to say goodbye."
She stepped close and hugged him, gently, in deference to his ribs. "Only for a while. You'll see me again."
As his arms wrapped around her he asked, "Promise?"
She pulled back a little, smiled at him, and said, "I told you. I travel a lot. I'll make sure to stop by. And you have my number. Use it." That last part was clearly an order.
"Yes, mam."
As they parted, and he stepped toward the security line, she said, "Safe trip."
After he made it through the security checkpoint he glanced back. Sydney was still standing where he had left her. She raised her hand and waved once before she past out of his sight.
Xander stepped out of the ramp from the plane and glanced around. Wills had said they would be waiting for him when he arrived.
Sure enough. There they were. Willow was practically bouncing in place and her obvious eagerness to see him brought a smile to his lip. Next to Willow were his two favorite Summers women, and behind the three Giles broke into a smile as he caught sight of Xander.
There was a flurry of bodies rushing toward him.
"Xander!"
"We were so worried about you."
"You caught a terrorist. Do you know how cool that is!"
"Hey- oh, ah! Buffy! Watch the ribs!"
"Oh! Sorry!"
Giles's hand squeezed his shoulder gently and the watcher said, "Good to see you Xander." And then, to the girls, "How about we assist him to the car instead of returning him to the hospital."
Xander couldn't stop the grin forming on his face. He probably looked like a maniac, but he didn't care.
He was home.
"Xander!" Dawn's call came from the hall in the direction of the front door. "You've got a package."
Huh, okay. The knock hadn't been what he'd thought. Xander had taken to not answering the door, seeing how, over the last couple of weeks it had often been a rather nosy member of the press. Of course, Slayers tended to be very good at getting rid of nosy reporters. Ah, it was good to have friends.
The young woman entered the room, carrying a small box.
Xander removed the nail he was holding in his mouth and, placing it carefully, he drove it into the wood, tacking the window frame in place. He then said, "Lunch break!" Grinning at Dawn he took the package and said, "Thanks, Dawn."
She returned his smile and hurried out of the room towards the den, where he could hear the blaring of the TV.
A package? Who would be sending him a package? He checked the return address. It was labeled S. Bristow.
Sydney.
He grinned, happy, and a little baffled. She hadn't mentioned sending him anything anything in her last phone call.
He worked the packaging open and pulled out, first, a letter, and second, a small box. He debated silently for a moment and then opened the box. He froze, staring down at it's contents, before his grin grew even wider.
A Snoopy watch.
There was a small note attached to it that said, "This one has a light."
He laughed, pulled the watch out, and put it on his wrist. Then he seated himself in the window seat and, warm sunlight soaking into his skin, began to read.
Hey Xander,
I'm betting you've opened the box first. I hope you like it. It's a little more utilitarian than the last one, just in case....