Title: CPO (Chronological Production Order)
Author: Em aka Old Romantic
Rating: PG/PG-13
Genre: Romance
Pairings: Syd/Vaughn, Nadia/Weiss
Spoilers: All of Season Four
Originally Posted: Fall of 2004
Disclaimer: If I had any part of the creation team of Alias, I would've pushed for the S4 eppys to be played in the right order until I got my way. Heh.

Summary: Missing scenes from the eppys of S4 in production order, not the order in which they were aired.

A/N: If you didn't already know it, the airing of the episodes in Season 4 were grossly out of the order in which they were planned, written, and produced – more so than any of the previous seasons. With this fic, I'm filling in the "missing scenes" with my romantic version of S4, if the eppys had been aired in the order they were written.

Thanks to auntof3 for the beta! (((smooches))) And thank you for reading!! Enjoy!

4x01: Authorized Personnel Only, Pt. 1:

She hadn't seen him in a month; not since leaving him at the hospital in Palermo, recovering from a punctured lung before heading home to face his punishment for killing his wife. After that, Vaughn had been sent back to D.C. for psychological evaluation, and Sydney had done the only thing she knew how to do to cope with the events of her typically complicated life: she went back to work and tried to sort out the good from the bad. But the information about the safety deposit box in Wittenberg that Lauren had alluded to just before her death was just too much of tease. Sydney needed to know what was in that box, no matter what.

Two weeks after watching Vaughn's seven shots to Lauren's chest permanently rid them of her, Sydney walked into a bank in that city, made her way to the safety deposit boxes using an alias, and discovered some very revealing documents about her mother's whereabouts that her father didn't want her to see. And for the second time in her life, she had to grieve the loss of the mother she hardly knew.

After that, Sydney didn't know how to relate to anyone, let alone Vaughn. She'd stopped answering his phone calls, using the excuse that she was too busy at work when she'd phone and leave a message on his voicemail; timing her calls when she knew he was in therapy and unable to answer. She still had the nagging sensation that everyone involved with her would wind up dead, and secretly, she hoped that he might be able to move on with his life again without her, for his own good. Although those first few days back together after Lauren's death had been a welcome and they'd gratefully clung to each other, sharing intimate kisses, she was glad when they called her back to L.A. and she had the excuse of work to keep their relationship from moving too fast as he healed. She didn't want to fall 

into bed with him without discussing all of the things they'd gone through, even as much as her body argued that she did.

She'd only been working a week when she quietly went to Director Chase seeking advice and told her that she needed a fresh start. Originally planning to hand in her resignation and trying something new, maybe even in a new city, Chase had closed the door and made her an offer that she couldn't refuse.

A week after that, everything was in place. After staging an entire mission that resulted in the fake threat of a demotion which led to her pretending to quit theCIAaltogether, she had a secret new job with a black ops division of theCIA(for real this time), and another double life.

She knew she could handle the lying to her family and friends because she'd done it for so many years before; and she knew that she would only feel fulfilled without Vaughn beside her if she immersed herself in work and protecting government secrets. It was the only way. Little did she know that Chase had other plans.

One step into her new office, and she knew that she had everything she'd wanted and more. With its secret entrance and light homey appeal, she felt that she'd fit right in with her new colleagues and boss…and then she saw that there was nothing new about any of them – at least to her. In the briefing room, Chase introduced her to her partners: Dixon, a man she could work with and had for years with no major problems; her father, someone she'd vowed to never speak to again; and Vaughn.

She stared at Vaughn the longest, wondering if she should say something sarcastic and quirky and inappropriate like, "Oh, hi, honey," but was distracted by the fact that her father, the murderer, was included in this elite group. She wanted to know who had assembled the team, but that was even more of a shock; when she turned to see her evil former boss as her new one: Arvin Sloane. Again, she went with her instincts and demanded answers in private, which Chase did satisfy, but only with the understanding that she, Vaughn, Dixon, and her father would be the ones to watch Sloane for any signs of betrayal. Suddenly, she dreaded this job more than the old one.

Entering the briefing room again and facing the men she worked well with, loved, and hated in turn, Sloane showed that he was indeed in charge by leading the meeting and outlining the mission ahead of them. She could hardly look at Vaughn, couldn't speak with her father, could not contain her hatred for Sloane, and did not think she'd be able to live with the job until Dixon spoke with her in her new office after the meeting and reminded her that she wasn't alone in her anxiety. If he could deal with it, so could she.

Over the next couple of hours as she prepared for her first mission in her new position, leaving late that night with Vaughn, she knew she'd have to cope with seeing him regularly and deal with the circumstances of her new post. She knew it would be tough, but deep down she was surprised that she liked the idea of having Vaughn back in her life, even as much as she'd tried to push him away over the previous couple of weeks. She definitely didn't want them to rush into anything, considering the delicate nature of their jobs and the 

knowledge that what had happened before to tear them apart could happen again. If they were destined to be together, it would have to happen in its own time.

Sydney was packing up the last of the little essential items she'd want on her first trip as an operative with APO before getting ready in order to leave early, when the doorbell to her apartment rang. She knew immediately that it wasn't Weiss; he had his own key and came and went as he pleased. In fact, she'd had to warn him to announce his arrival with at least a shout, after she'd walked through to the kitchen in her underwear one night months earlier and caught him on the couch, nursing a beer. The moment had only been slightly embarrassing for her, but he'd felt like crawling under the couch in shame, and had since learned his lesson, calling out a greeting every time he walked in the door from then on.

She knew that Weiss wouldn't ring the doorbell, nor would her father have the guts to show his face after their confrontation in Wittenberg when she basically told him to drop dead; and she'd already talked to Dixon earlier that afternoon at the office. Which only left one person: Vaughn.

Sydney felt only a little apprehension as she opened the door and saw his warm face, the way he was casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, wearing one of his leather jackets that she loved. He apologized right away for dropping by unexpectedly; she assured him that it was okay. And then he did something he'd been trying to avoid for over a year and spoke his heart, "I miss you. I wanted to say that I miss you."

Wanting to explain herself, Sydney began stuttering out responses to his assumptions about why she hadn't talked to him in so long when the truth about her fears of where they'd been headed after Wittenberg came out when she turned down his request to come in to her apartment. He seemed to understand her need for time and space before things could be like they were supposed to be and were three years earlier, but he was just ready to hash out a lot of the problems right then and there to get them out of the way. "We need to take it slow, Vaughn," she pleaded with him. There was just too much pain still there.

"Yeah," he whispered back, only slightly pleased that she was still attracted to him enough to want to keep him at arms' length. "You're probably right."

There was an awkward moment that passed as neither one of them really knew what to say. Finally, Vaughn gestured to his car in the driveway. "I-I guess I should go. Unless you want a ride to the office…?"

She shook her head, "That's okay–"

"I'm already all packed."

"No, I mean – I'm not ready," she clarified. "I still have to shower and get dressed."

She watched as his eyes darkened slightly and she suddenly regretted mentioning the shower. She knew without a doubt that he was remembering how they almost always 

showered together during their short-lived relationship before the Two Years that had drastically changed her life.

Just as she suspected, he offered, "I could wait."

"No," she answered definitely. "But thanks." And with that and their shared smile as he nodded and prepared to walk away, she lifted her hand in a wave before shutting the door.

Missions, he was good at…especially when it involved working with Sydney Bristow. From the dawn of their partnership, they'd never once had a bad fallout on an operation from an inability to work with each other. They'd had a few close calls, sure, but as far as teams go, they were the best. And this operation was no different, even if it didn't go exactly as planned.

From the lighthearted banter as they were preparing for the assignments at hand, when he showed off his knowledge of the few dirty words he'd learned in Russian by flippantly complimenting her breasts; to the stress of listening to his pulse race in his ears when he heard her endlessly fighting with her opponents via their comms, and couldn't seem to get his own adversary to stay down when he hit him so he could get to her; nothing was more rewarding than getting through another mission unharmed and successful, even if it was just by the skin of their teeth.

Vaughn had panicked when he'd tracked Sydney's location to one of the baggage cars on the train they were on and found her dangling outside of the open door by a piece of mesh that the scumbag she'd been battling was busy cutting to make her fall to her death. His anger really took over then and he fought until he'd thrown the guy out of the door and heard him yell in agony on his way down from the high bridge. But he'd only paid attention for a moment because he was more preoccupied with getting to Sydney and pulling her to safety.

She was in his arms in a moment, and when he felt her trembling, he too had the realization that he'd almost lost her again, and he hugged her tighter in response, burying his face into her neck. But he didn't want her to think that he was asking for anything; he didn't want to push her, and he wanted her to have the space that she'd asked for. So he pulled away, but only slightly; just enough to gratefully hold her face next to his before letting her go.

He wasn't expecting the look on her face to be so loving in its intensity. After staring into her eyes for a long moment while in each other's arms, he understood what she was feeling; recognizing the look of that one he saw across the room at the fallen SD-6 offices so many years before. She needed him, and following the order of his life, he wasn't able to deny her anything.

It started with a kiss.

She'd initiated it, she knew. On the train, she'd been so thankful for Vaughn's existence in her life and especially on that mission, that she would've given herself to him right then and there without a second thought. Being in his arms, looking into his loving eyes, thankful that she was given yet another chance at life because of his presence, she kissed him. And it wasn't just a kiss, but a lover's kiss that would lead to much more intimate activities had they been in a more secure place. Vaughn was actually the one to stop it, reminding her that they needed to stay safe and had to get off of the train and rendezvous with Dixon in Latvia, in which they should have been arriving soon.

It was the three of them together all the way home that kept her thinking more than acting, but she couldn't deny Vaughn's whispered offer on the plane to come over to her apartment as soon as they got back home. Still, she wondered if her decision was a wise one after being so resolved to take things slow.

By the time he arrived at her front door, Sydney had beaten herself up about leading him on. She'd gone home and just changed out of her work clothes into the hardly worn tank top and gym pants she was wearing before the operation when he knocked on the door again. As she made her way to the door, her steps gradually slowed until she stopped completely when she realized she didn't know how to apologize that what they'd both hoped would happen wasn't going to after all. She still wanted to take things slow as she'd earlier suggested, but she didn't know how convincing she'd be with that half-truth a second time, especially in light of what had just happened with the two of them on the mission.

The unlocked door opened a minute later and Vaughn poked his head inside and called out her nickname before seeing her standing against the counter in the kitchen. Watching her curiously, he went ahead and stepped into the foyer, shut the door, and remained on the top step of the entry, shoving his hands in his pockets. "You've had second thoughts," he assumed correctly.

She needed him to understand, "It's not that I don't want you, Vaughn; I really do. It's just…"

As her words trailed off, he could see that her face was scrunched as she agonized over her decision. "Syd…we can just talk if you want to – I promise I won't pressure you into anything."

She let out a breath and squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not you that I'm worried about."

Smirking just a tiny bit, he walked down the few steps until they were on the same level and said quietly, "Well, then…we both know that there are only two ways to change things: either we do something to get this sexual tension out of the way or we stay apart like we did when you were at SD-6."

"No," she shuddered just thinking about it. "I can't go through that again." She lifted her eyes to his face. "But I don't want to just fall into bed with you either. I don't want the fresh start of our relationship based on meaningless sex."

"I don't either, Syd," he shrugged, "but…" He paused; seeking to hold her gaze so that he could communicate that what he was about to say was only the full and complete truth, "…Sex with you has never been and could never be meaningless to me."

Sydney stared at him and thought about his words long and hard…for the whole of about thirty seconds before she stood up straight, crossed the room, and forcefully and passionately kissed him. Running her palms up his chest to his shoulders, she didn't waste any time slipping his jacket off and letting it fall to the floor. When she went to work grasping at the hem of his t-shirt to take that off of him as well, he moved his lips to her neck so that he could question between their kisses and wandering caresses, "Syd…we don't have to…do this…"

She captured his lips again and sucked hard; leaning into him so much that he stumbled backward toward the wall. Seemingly pleased with his new position, she lifted his shirt and only broke away long enough to lift the garment over his head, hoarsely whispering, "We need to get this out of the way, Vaughn."

She had slipped her tongue into his mouth and was holding his head still as she pressed her body into his before he could clarify what she'd said when it suddenly dawned on him. She hadn't been talking about getting his shirt out of the way, but the tension – the physical need that they both had eating away at them. And as he guided her toward the bedroom, each of them removing their unwanted articles of clothing, he knew she was right.

As soon as they were done satisfying their mutual need mere minutes later, Vaughn relaxed and took a full breath, stroking her face as she held his head and shoulders in a hug, and then rolled off of her to give her the space that they'd discussed, now that the pressure had been eased. As they stared at one another and he noticed that she was still wearing her shirt, he realized that he'd never had the mind to take it off of her and caress and kiss her breasts, which was his favorite part of lovemaking. Then he realized that that was not what it had been. Although it could never be meaningless as he'd said, it had been just sex.

She had a wry, almost embarrassed smile on her face as she reached out to touch his cheek and finger the dimple in his chin as was her ritual habit after making love in their very physical relationship years earlier; and he almost chuckled at the way some things never change. Sydney then turned her attention to the ceiling above their heads and Vaughn heard her quietly sigh, and peered over at her to find that the look on her face seemed to be one of lament.

She spoke his question before he did, "Any regrets?"

He shook his head, "No. You?"

Keeping her gaze on something across the room, she took a second longer to answer quietly, "No."

"Good," he put his focus across the room as well, but reached out for her hand between them. "Now we can take it slow."

She snickered for a moment and then relaxed a little bit more to say, "Thank you for saving my life on the train."

"I think you've thanked me well enough," he teased and saw her grin out of the corner of his eye. But thinking of the mission they'd just been on, he remembered something he wanted to ask her. "Syd…" he carefully approached the changed subject, "before we left, Jack came to see me with a message for you." Her face slowly grew grim and she gently slid her hand from his to lay it across her stomach. "Your father wanted me to remind you that in Belarus, we're not going to have a tactical team." He rolled to his side and propped up on his elbow to see her face. "So why is your father talking to you through me?"

As expected, she didn't answer, but he could tell from the pained look in her eyes that something had happened, and he had an idea what it might involve. It was time to ask the direct question, "When I was in D.C., I know that you went to Wittenberg, and I know that your father was there. What happened in Wittenberg?"

Her eyes glazed over and he knew right away that she was remembering some event that was apparently painful enough that she didn't want to talk about it. But he also knew that she wouldn't heal from whatever it was unless she confided in him. "You want to tell me what happened in Wittenberg?" he prodded.

She turned her head and looked him dead in the eye to answer softly, "No, actually, I don't." And then he watched as she sat up and crossed the room to the bathroom door, where she disappeared around the corner. A moment later, he heard the shower turn on and he knew that their moments of intimacy would have to wait until they could rebuild a real relationship again.

Thinking to her noncommittal answer to his questions about Wittenberg, he could surmise that she'd found out some truth about her father that she just couldn't deal with, and that was why they hadn't spoken in weeks. Whatever it was, it must've been bad, and Vaughn knew that only the two of them could resolve whatever the problem was. No matter what, he wasn't going to help Jack keep in contact with her by being the middleman; if he wanted to talk with Sydney, then he'd better fix their relationship himself.

Presently getting up when he knew he should go, he quickly retrieved his clothes from the floor and put them on, and then poked his head in the door of the bathroom as he put on his jacket. "I'll see you in the morning, Syd," he spoke loud enough for her to hear over the running water.

She didn't even pull back the curtain to answer him with an "okay", but she did a moment later just as he was leaving the room. "Vaughn," she called out and he peered back in the doorway to see just her head and one shoulder exposed. She let out a breath before softly adding, "Thanks." And she knew that he would understand what she meant.

He did and offered her a half grin. "Let's have lunch tomorrow."

She brightened to that idea, but suggested, "How about dinner here instead? I'll cook."

He could never resist her offers or her smiles, and lightly replied, "Even better."