What Would I Do Without You?

K

K. Ackles

Cadet
A/N: It’s probably not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, starting a fic on the eve of a new season premiere, but I haven’t seen it yet (stupid foreign country) so if all my facts are wrong excuse me. I apologise. This is set after Syd goes missing and stuff. So post-season 2 finale. Oh, and if this stuff didn’t actually happen, I’m making it up. And also, Francie didn’t really die. Don’t make me explain why, cuz I don’t really know, but that’s the real Francie in Chapter one. Work with me on that.
Rated PG-13, cuz I just feel safer when I know my ass won’t be busted for under-rating my fics. So I over rate them instead. Besides…there is excessive drinking outside of social circumstances…don’t do that at home kids :smiley:

***Insert Random Disclaimer here. ***

Chapter One
Ben and Jerry; Coffee or Pistachio

Will was sitting on the couch, staring out the window. In front of him was the road, a few parked cars along the sides. Up the road he could hear children playing street hockey. The trees swayed gently in the wind. Further up the road he could hear the faint rumbling of traffic along the main road. The occasional siren whirred past, horns honked, children laughed and cried. He felt so distant from everything. Watching the world from Syd’s living room window, waiting for her to return.

She had only taken a quick walk to the corner store for ice cream and a movie, but he always worried about her. He worried about her when she was on missions around the world. He thought of her when she was with Vaughn. He couldn’t stand to sleep when he knew she could be in danger. He knew she could take care of herself, and she’d proven it to him many, many times. She’d even saved his life on more than one occasion. He knew he couldn’t save her from what was out there waiting for her, but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, he could save Sydney from herself.

She’s too strong, he thought. There is a time and a place for everything. But not for Sydney. She doesn’t allow herself a time or a place to grieve. She pushes the hardest things to the back of her mind and forgets about them. It’s all she can do to cope with everything she’s been through. He wanted to always be there for her when she needed him. He wanted to be able to help her let everything out, but she was too strong. Too together. Too composed. Her father had been the perfect role model for her in that respect. Still grieving the loss of Laura twenty-odd years down the line, he had learnt how to compartmentalise, and Sydney had taken a leaf out of his book.

Will continued to stare out the window, waiting for her to return. He heard footsteps, even before they hit the pavement. He could tell Sydney’s footstep in any shoe in a group of a billion people. He knew her so well. He memorised her every detail. Everything she did, anything she said. He knew that she had wanted AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ for fifteen years. He bought it for her birthday the year they met. Will Tippin remembered details, and he stored them in the back of his mind. When he heard Sydney coming up the path, he walked over to the front door, and opened it for her, just as she was about to pull it open. He hung over the edge of it, and she smiled at him. He smiled back, and took the bag from her hand.

"Am I ever going to open the door to my own house?"

"Not while I’m here, and I can open it for you." He turned and smiled at her, closing the door behind them.

"So, wanna know what movie I got for us?"

"Nope, I just want to check out the ice cream."

"Do you ever stop eating Will? You’re like a human garbage disposal!"

They both laughed, and Will took out the carton of ‘Ben’n’Jerry’s’.

"Aww. You got Pistachio. You know I don’t like Pistachio." He made fake puppy eyes and started whining.

"You’ll eat anything, even if it isn’t technically edible!" The whining grew louder. "Oh relax, you can have the coffee one in the freezer. You know Francie won’t eat it. Where is she by the way?"

"She was going to have a sho-"

"I’m here, let the movie begin! What did movie did you get? Oh Syd, you didn’t buy coffee did you? You know I don’t eat that."

"The coffee is for Will, I bought the pistachio for us."

"And for Will once he’s finished that one." Both girls giggled, and Will had a look of mock hurt on his face.

"I’m appalled you two would think that about me! I am not a glutton! I plan to help you finish the pistachio before I start on the coffee." He laughed with both of them, and lunged for the ice cream, spoon in hand.

"Hey, that’s ours!" yelled Francie. "Get him Syd! That’s ours!"

A play fight ensued on the kitchen floor, with ice cream, spoons, arms, legs and best friends flying everywhere. Eventually Will had the upper hand, having eaten over half of the pistachio. Francie jumped up as Will was devouring it. She scooped the carton of coffee ice cream off the counter, and held it over the wide-open garbage can.

"Hold it right there Tippin. Put your weapons on the floor and back away with your hands in the air. Get him Syd." She took his hands behind his back. "Good. Now back away from the ice cream, and the coffee doesn’t get hurt. Now take him to the couch and tie him up."

Sydney led him to the couch, and tied him up using the cord from the curtains. She only roped him loosely, and during the previews he ‘escaped’ and grabbed the coffee off the counter. He then slotted himself between Francie and Syd, and stole another bite of their ice cream.

"Oi buster!" said Syd as she poked him jokingly in the ribs with the spoon. "You stay away from that, it’s ours."

"Oh all right. What movie are we watching?"

"You’ll have to wait and see. You were more interested in the ice cream, and you lost your chance to find out. Too bad."

"Okay. I’ll wait." And he put his feet on the coffee table and put his arms around Syd and Francie.

A/N: I promise to post every week, and this story is finished, so there will be no writers block :smiley:
 
Chapter Two
A Lonely Beer and Bad Coffee

The phone rang right as Patrick and Demi were about to kiss. Not wanting to leave the movie, they ignored it.

"Well I’m not getting up," said Will, tears in his eyes, "you get it."

"Oh all right." Syd rose reluctantly and stopped the ringing so the others could listen to the movie in peace.

"Bring Mr. Girlie Pants some Kleenex while you’re over there. He’s crying enough tears for both of us."

"I am not. Now shush. I’m watching this." And another tear rolled down his cheek.

"Here Will. We won’t tell all your manly friends at work about this little emotional soul baring while watching ‘Ghost’."

"Maybe you won’t Syd, but when I meet them, they are so finding out!"

"Shut up!" Said Will, and he threw the pillow at Francie to shut her up. It missed completely, but Francie took the hint and sat back down.

"Listen Guys, I need to go in to work."

"On a Sunday?" Francie didn’t like the hours Sydney had to work, and she didn’t hide her feelings.

"Yeah, they want me to prepare a presentation I have to give on Wednesday. I’m afraid I’ll be out for the rest of the evening. Finish the movie without me; you know when it has to be back. And try and keep the place in one piece you two." She scolded them as she picked the empty ice cream container and a wad of Kleenex up off the floor. "And you clean these up Will. We know most of them are yours."

She smiled at him before retreating into the bedroom to gather her bag and get changed. If they were going to be sending her on a mission, she needed to be prepared, and she couldn’t afford to leave her gun lying around the house. She was ready in less than twenty minutes, but couldn’t get out the door until Francie had told her that she needed to quit and get a job at a normal place which only made her work normal hours. Sydney just smiled and looked at Francie, telling her not to worry, she would deal with it. She gave Will another smile and a hug before pulling off in her blue Ford Focus. He would worry about her constantly until he saw her again, and knew she was safe.

*~*~*~*~*

Will found it hard to get to sleep that night. He found it nearly impossible to sleep whenever she was out. Every single day, she put her life on the line for the safety and freedom of the country they lived in. He would have traded the safety and freedom for communism and ‘weapons of mass destruction’ any day of the week if it guaranteed *her* safety. He walked into his kitchen, and pulled a Heineken out of the fridge. He twisted it open, and took a long drink. The amber liquid flowed down his throat, and he could feel every bubble as it travelled down to join the ice cream. The room was dark, except for a sliver of light travelling through the blinds. He sat in the dark, drinking his beer and thinking about what sort of crazy stunts The Agency would make her pull this time. Eventually, Will Tippin fell asleep on the couch, empty bottle in hand, and many more scattered on the floor.

*~*~*~*~*

Of course, Will still went into work everyday. Just because Sydney was gone didn’t mean he wouldn’t work. It only meant he couldn’t concentrate properly. But when his mind started to wander, he just thought that what he was doing might save her life, and it kept him going. When he couldn’t concentrate any longer, he took off his glasses, and rubbed his eyes. Then, eyes still closed, he began to massage his temples. It helped him relax, and if he pushed hard, he could only feel pain, and it numbed his feelings for her, just for a moment. When he couldn’t push any harder, he stopped, and got out of his chair. He mumbled ‘coffee’ to Kailey in the desk next to him, and went to the break room.

As he pulled open the door, he heard a loud plunking noise come from the corner. As he looked, he saw Jack turning on his heel, and heading towards him. Will, knowing the signs, quickly jumped out of Jack’s way, and pretended not to notice him. Acknowledging Jack while he was in one of his moods would only result in lots of pain for both parties. This was something Will had learned when he joined CIA, though unfortunately he had learnt it the hard way.

Agent Jack Bristow never showed any emotions. On the rare occasion he and Will were at dinner together, it was Jack Bristow, Father, and Sydney was present. Jack would never do anything he thought Sydney might disapprove of. She didn’t know it, but she had quite a hold on him. He may not have agreed with everything she did, or everyone she associated with, but he knew he couldn’t stop her. And in some way, having his daughter around had moderated his temper. However, she had to be around physically, otherwise Jack Bristow, Father became Jack Bristow, Agent, man of stone and negative emotion. He was cold and angry. And concerned. Only Will could see this in him. ‘It takes one to know one’ Will thought to himself.

As he walked over to the coffee maker, he saw a broken Styrofoam cup in the bin, and coffee splattered all over the floor. He assumed that this was the source of the noise he had heard as he pulled open the door. Will sighed, and poured a cup of coffee. Black, no sugar. A perfect reflection of how he was feeling at the moment: hungover, dark and bitter. He sat at the end of a small table and drank his coffee quietly. It was probably the worst coffee he had ever tasted, and the first time he tasted it, Will doubted it was even coffee. But as long as he didn’t think of it as coffee, it wasn’t to bad, and it helped to numb the pain inside.

After he had finished his ‘coffee’, he returned to his desk. After he couldn’t work any more, he returned to the break room. It was a circle he went through. As he walked back and forth, he walked into Agent Vaughn. Vaughn had lost focus of what he was doing, and the two had collided.

"Hey, Tippin. Are you all right?"

"Hey? Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry about the papers."

"Don’t worry about them. You don’t look so good. What is it?"

"Nah, it’s nothing. You wouldn’t get. Or maybe you would. Listen, don’t worry about it. It’ll blow over. You have more important things to do. Go protect the freedom of our country." Will saluted Vaughn, and made a ‘serious’ face. Vaughn gave Will a smile and walked off. He had his own things to worry about. And he would have understood Will more than he knew. They both felt the same way when Sydney was assigned a mission, but they both dealt with it very differently.

A/N: Did anyone catch my tiny cameo role in this chapter? Just can’t stay away from my Wilbert :lol:
 
Chapter Three
Sub with Nothing on It

So Will moped around and acted generally depressed until Wednesday, the day Sydney was scheduled to return to LA. The affect Sydney had on the office was amazing. When she was away, it was dreary. Jack barked twice as much at everyone, including Marshall. Marshall obviously didn’t enjoy that as much, so he wasn’t his usual cheerful self. Agent Vaughn seemed in his own world, but offered less resistance when she was gone. It made no difference to him. Will was distracted. He could barely focus, and was never paying attention to anybody. He was always in the break room or staring blankly at his computer. The day before she returned, everything turned around. Jack was more lenient, Michael stepped into his shoes and started ratting on everyone, and Will managed to work again, and started putting milk and sugar into his coffee again.

*~*~*~*~*

As Sydney walked up the pathway to her house, suitcase in hand. She thought something felt out of place. It was as if something had been changed, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and it threw her off. She became wary of approaching her house, but continued forward, as though nothing was different. If somebody was watching her, she didn’t want them to know she knew they were watching. She was vigilant, and she was ready for anything. Senses heightened, she reached for the doorknob. Before she could even touch it, the door swung open, and a grinning Will Tippin greeted her. Taking a deep breath, she looked into his face, and saw that he was smiling.

"Will, let me open the door to my own house! I live here! Opening the door should come with the house. It shouldn’t be an optional extra!"

"So am I the optional extra then?" asked Will jokingly as he took her suitcase. "Surely you’d rather have your own personal bellboy. But if not, I’m sure I can sell myself out in the road." He was being dramatic now, and was making a scene, waving down imaginary cars in the road, and waiting for them to roll down their imaginary windows before he pleaded his case. "Yes, my best friend doesn’t want me to carry her suitcases or open her doors, so I was wondering if you-"

"Oh Will stop it! Sometimes you are too much. Come in the house and carry my suitcases then." Sydney started playing along now, and was pretending to be his damsel in distress. "Oh dear boy! I cannae lift this bag, ‘tis too heavy, you look like a strong young man. Ca-an you carry it for me?"

Will walked towards the door, and deepened his voice. "Why of course ma’am. Anything for a beautiful lady such as yourself." He bowed lower than necessary, and took off his imaginary hat, before flexing his muscles, and taking the suitcase to Sydney’s bedroom. "There y’are ma’am. One bag carried to yer room. That’ll be one shilling."

"One shilling? Oh dear, that is too much! Take it back, I shall carry it meself."

Will couldn’t help laughing as Sydney flopped down on the bed, pretending to be a helpless damsel in distress.

"Are we ever going to grow up?" He asked.

"What fun is growing up?" She was still speaking in the same voice. "Besides, I don’t want to grow up until somebody takes mah suitcase to mah room for me."

He chuckled again. "You are something special Lady Bristow. Something vee-ry special indeed! I set up the bathroom for you; you look like you could use a long soak. You must be jet lagged to say the least of everything you’ve been through this week. Get some rest. I should be getting back to the office. I’m only off on lunch."

"Oh Will. You shouldn’t have given up your lunch break. Lunch is for eating. I don’t think you eat enough real food as it is. Promise you’ll grab something on the way back to the office."

"Having lunch with your father, scares me to the point of not wanting to eat any more. And I promise I’ll get a sandwich from the deli, if you promise to take a bath and relax."

"It’s a deal." And they shook on it. Sydney headed towards the bathroom, and Will walked out the door, closing it quietly on his way out, so he didn’t disturb her. He had spent two hours at her place, cleaning up and preparing the bathroom. He made sure the bubble bath was ready, and that the candles were out around the room. When he saw her car coming he had lit them all, and finished drwaing the bath. He took the towel out of the dryer, and folded it up so that it stayed warm. It was perfect, and it was exactly the same as it had always been. He had always tried to spoil her like that, to make her feel special. Even if she didn’t notice the small things, he wanted to show her how much he appreciated her being in his life, and sticking around him, even when he was being stupid.

Investigating Danny’s death had been only one instance. She had specifically asked him to let it be, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t put it to rest, because he saw how much pain it was causing her, and he couldn’t stand seeing her in so much pain, and not being able to do something about it. It killed him to see her like that, so he vowed to try his damnedest to find out who had done that. He knew it was foolish, and he knew she had told him not to, but he thought that maybe if he found out what had happened, who had done it and why, maybe she would stop hurting so bad. Maybe he would stop hurting, because it hurt him to see her feeling like that. When he found out, he was sorry, but he understood why she felt that way, and it helped him feel better, even just a little bit.

He pulled into the local SubWay, and ordered a small sub with virtually nothing on it. No drink, no cookie, no chips, just the sub. He wasn’t hungry. He was never really hungry, but he had promised Syd that he would eat something ‘normal’, and he would do almost anything for her, so although it nearly made him sick, he ate the sub, and then he headed back to the office. He was going to have to work longer that night to make up for his extended lunch break, but to him, Sydney was more than worth it.
 
Chapter Four
Alcohol, Altoids and Aeros

When Will returned to work, he had found a massive stack of papers on his desk. He had forgotten that Vaughn wanted him to look into some things. He would be here a lot longer than he would have liked. Oh well, he thought, at least it was worth it. I guess I’d better get started on these papers then. As he opened the first manila folder, his stomach wrenched. It was Sydney’s debriefing from her mission the night before. He knew he shouldn’t read it, but he couldn’t help himself.

He fought with his conscience, only one could give. But it wouldn’t be on his desk if he wasn’t supposed to read it. But it wasn’t supposed to be on his desk. But it is here, and you want to know what happened to her. But it’s confidential and none of my business. Sydney is your best friend, of course it’s your business. No. Yes. It isn’t a crime to read a document that ends up on your desk. I guess not but-. No buts, why shouldn’t you read it. No reason really. Well then read it. I will.

And he did.

As he read through it, he was struck by a number of things. He had never read anything Sydney had written before, and this read like a best-selling novel. It amazed him that her skill at writing was so great, and yet she didn’t write for herself, she wrote the briefings. Of course, he reasoned, she wouldn’t have managed to get her degree in American Literature if she had been a crummy writer. But it still caught him off guard.

The second thing he noticed was the writing. It was the same writing he saw scribbled everywhere in her house-the shopping list, the notepad by the phone, the crossword-but it was odd to see it here, like this. She had written the entire multi-page debrief by hand. There was not one fault, no bumps in the writing, no jolts. Yet he assumed that she had written it on the plane. Normally documents of this length were typed on computer and printed, but Sydney had written it all out. He wondered why she had done that, and made a note to ask her, but then scratched it when he remembered he shouldn’t technically have the document in front of him. He felt a pang of guilt, but it quickly evaporated as he read further.

It had been quite a mission. Sydney had gone in alone, Dixon had been left on the perimeter to monitor the traffic in and out of the market place. As she was about to retrieve the Rambaldi manuscript, one of the guards had caught her uncharacteristically off guard. She had managed to recover, and fought back. Sydney had given a blow by blow account of how the fight had occurred. She had included even the most unnecessary details. Will was becoming ensnared in the story, because that is what it had become. It was an amazing story at that, only every word of it was true, and it was all about Sydney. When he got to the part where the guard had shot her in the chest, he felt the life ripped out of him, but kept reading only to find that she was wearing a kevlar vest underneath her sari, which she was wearing as a disguise. Still, he wanted to rip the gun out of the man’s hand and beat him across the head with it.

Although it would seem Sydney thought the same, because she did whip him around the head with the butt of his own pistol. She left him lying unconscious on the floor, and snuck out only to find another guard waiting for her. Only this time he was armed with a large bowie knife, and he slashed at her arm, cutting through the sari, and injuring her quite badly. She called for extraction, and was eventually rescued from the market place. She had been under the care of the CIA’s doctors overnight so they could treat her wounds, and ensure that her arm did not become infected.

When Will read about this, he was glad he was there to carry her suitcase, and to ensure she took the afternoon off. She must have been exhausted and in pain, but she didn’t let it show. She never let her pain show, but that’s how she was trained. Sometimes he could see her mask slip. Even though it was only briefly when she thought nobody was looking. But he was always looking at her, to see how she was, to make sure she was hanging on. It was so hard just to hang on sometimes. Sometimes he felt like he wanted to just let go, or scream out loud. When he saw her with that look upon her face, he wanted to hold her, and help her, and be with her forever. Make her smile, just for a minute, just for a moment, so she wouldn’t die inside.

He didn’t know how he could help her. All he wanted to do was help her. To be with her. To be allowed to care for her, and have her care for him the same way. He wanted to be with her, and do nothing or everything. It didn’t matter to him. But he put on a brave face, and masqueraded as her best friend. He let her see other guys. He hoped that maybe one day she would notice what she had with her the whole time. That he was the steady thing she needed. For now, he let her go, but he was always there for her. She always came back to him, even when she didn’t realise she was ever gone. When she left, it tore him up inside, but when she came back, it was worth it to see her again. One day, he told himself, one day she’ll know I was always here for her, and she’ll know that I am the one she belongs with. I’ll never let her down, I’ll never let her fall.

Will was overflowing with emotion, and his thoughts had come so fast that they were clouded, and he couldn’t read them anymore. So he sat behind his computer and listened to the thoughts swimming in his head, so loud that he couldn’t hear them. Yet he heard every one of them. It echoed his ears, and it stoppered his vision. It got louder, he couldn’t cope with it. Dumbly, he got up from behind his desk, and went to his car, in the parking garage. He popped the trunk and took out one of his bottles. The clear liquid sloshed around in the unlabeled, half empty bottle. He brought the it up to his lips, and drank a little. It burnt, but it felt good. The burning numbed the pain. He needed something to numb pain.

When he had finished the bottle, he put it back in his car, and went to the glove box. Opening it, he took out a bottle of mouth wash, and swished it around, spitting it into the gutter. Then he took a spearmint Altoid, and popped it into is mouth. He sat in the passenger seat of his car, and turned on the CD-Player. ‘Meteora’ was the disc in the player at the moment, and Will skipped to the last track, ‘Numb’. He lost himself, and he could feel the song. He had finished his Altoid, and grabbed a mint Aero from the box he kept in the trunk. Locking up the car he headed back up to the office, munching on his chocolate bar and humming the tune. He needed to turn over that file before anybody found out he had read it.
 
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