The End

Epilogue 2: Stand Up and Be Counted

When they finally arrived back in Los Angeles, all Sydney and Michael really wanted was to go home for a well deserved night's rest. However, that option was denied to them and they spent the next three days confined to the CIA office in a series of grueling debriefings with everyone from the head of the CIA to the American deputy Minister of Magic.

At long last, on the morning of the fourth day they were pronounced fit to leave and Sydney and Michael tottered, zombie-like, out of the briefing room.

"That took long enough," Michael muttered, further loosening his tie. Its knot had already been closer to his chest bone than his neck for most of the last two days.

"Did you see the deputy Minister when he realized we still had our memories?" Sydney asked. Every few words she would forget herself in her exhaustion and slip back into an English accent, a habit gained over the last month and a half. "I wonder if he and Randall were working together."

"I half expected him to pull out his wand and wipe our memories himself," Michael agreed as they stepped on a deserted elevator and he punched the level for the parking garage.

"He couldn't have done that if wizards ever wanted help from the CIA again," Sydney pointed out. "Randall had the advantage; he could have said it was an accident."

"Lucky Hermione was there," Michael said.

"You were right about them," Sydney replied around a yawn. "I was too hard on them when we first met; they were just doing the best they could."

"Don't be too hard on yourself about that," Michael said, rubbing her arms. "They were glad we talked to them about it, remember?"

"I know," Sydney sighed, stepping closer to hug Michael and enjoying the feeling of his arms around her. This was what she'd been missing for the past six weeks, this feeling of closeness that they hadn't been able to show physically.

"I'm glad you were the one there with me for all of this," Michael said, his voice rumbling through Sydney's chest.

"Me too," Sydney replied. She pulled away and looked up at him, and the next second they were kissing, allowing all of the pent up passion from the last six weeks to pass between them.

Far too soon the elevator ground to a halt and the doors opened. Forcing themselves apart, Sydney and Michael stepped off the elevator hand in hand and made their way to their cars.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Michael said slowly.

"Day after," Sydney sighed. "The bad guys are gonna have to go one more day without me."

"Good idea," Michael agreed.

***************

Sydney finally dragged her feet up the steps to her apartment around noon. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to take a shower or go to bed first, but neither idea lasted for very long.

Sydney stepped inside, closed the door, tossed her keys on the kitchen counter, and was promptly tackled to the floor. It took every ounce of will power she had to override her reflex to throw off her assailant and fight back.

"Francie!" Sydney exclaimed from under the weight of her best friend and roommate. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing!" Francie demanded. "You've been gone for a month and a half!"

"Francie, you're gonna break my collar bone," Sydney moaned.

"You'd deserve it," Francie replied, shifting her weight but not letting Sydney up. "I've been worried sick over you. You didn't even say goodbye, all I got was that note. I tried calling the bank but they wouldn't tell me anything."

Sydney sighed and began formulating an appropriate story. The pain of constantly having to lie to her best friend was almost past endurance. So was the guilt of having made her worry so much. Of course, the bank where Sydney said she worked wouldn't know anything, but hadn't the CIA promised that Francie would be well taken care of? Perhaps more than any time before, Sydney wished that she could explain everything, but it seemed horribly unlikely that Francie would believe a word of it even if she heard it. Sydney and Michael had been resistant to believing that magic exists at first, after all, and there had been a wizard in the room at the time.

"Sydney?" Francie sounded concerned.

"Yeah?" Sydney replied.

"You looked pretty blank there for a minute," Francie explained. "Are you all right?"

"Maybe if you let her up she'll tell you," said a third voice, belonging to Sydney's other friend.

"Will!" Sydney exclaimed, effectively throwing Francie aside as she sat up. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Longer than you've been there," Will replied. Sydney caught a flash of something behind his eyes. It looked a lot like curiosity, but it was different from Francie's, because Will was aware of Sydney's affiliation with the CIA and was obviously hoping that he might be privy to a truthful explanation for her absence. Sydney shot back what she hoped was a promising look, wishing she could tell him everything, but it was hopeless. Even if the wizarding community didn't object, the CIA would never allow it.

Nodding his thanks to Sydney, Will reached forward and pulled the two women to their feet. Sydney went to the freezer and dug out some ice cream while Francie found some spoons and the three of them convened on the sofa, crowding around the carton.

"So how 'bout it," Francie prompted as she scooped out a spoonful of ice cream. "What was so special about this business trip that kept you away for so long? Hey, where were you, anyway?"

"Great Britain," Sydney replied, her tongue a little numb from the ice cream. "I was up in Scotland for most of the time, but I spent some time in London."

"At least you can speak the language," Francie said with a shrug. "So what's in Scotland?"

"A lot more than you might think," Sydney replied, forgetting herself.

"What?" Francie asked, her eyebrows crinkling in confusion.

"A lot of the bank's clients up there were clamoring for their own branch so they don't have to go all the way to London every time they want to make a withdrawal. I had to head up public relations while they were building the place," Sydney improvised. "Scotland is a lot more than rolling hills."

"Why did they send you?" Francie asked. "Why not someone from the London office?"

"Don't ask me why they do what they do," Sydney said, forcing herself to laugh. "I just work there."

"Seriously, Sydney, next time you're gonna be gone for a month and a half you've got to at least give us a call," Francie admonished her. "At least let us know you're not dead."

"Sorry," Sydney said guiltily. "There weren't any phones around."

"Something happen to your cell phone?" Francie asked skeptically.

"They wouldn't let me take it," Sydney replied, forcing herself to look her friend in the eye. "Top secret bank stuff, shh."

"Listen, Syd, if you forgot about us the least you can do is admit it," Will said.

Sydney shot him a look: 'you're not helping.' Will merely shrugged.

Francie was looking more hurt by the second, so Sydney said, "I did not forget about you. I was just very busy. If I wasn't working I was sleeping, and there wasn't much time for that."

"I'm sorry Syd, I can tell you're tired," Francie sighed, finally relenting.

She got up, pulled Sydney to her feet, and sent her off in the direction of her bedroom. However, as Sydney passed the book case her eyes fell upon a better idea. She pulled a box off the shelf and held it up to show her friends.

"I think I've got a way to make it up to you."

"Scrabble?" Will asked skeptically.

"Oh, no, Syd," Francie sighed. "You're exh-"

Will cut her off with a wave of his hand and whispered. "Go with it, maybe she's so tired that one of us will actually be able to win for once."

Even Francie had to admit the appeal of this idea.

***************

"What are you trying to spell?" Francie asked as Sydney placed an O tile on the board.

"If I told you then you'd know my grand master plan," Sydney replied, slightly giddy. Too much alcohol and too little sleep wasn't making for a good combination.

"What, the making up words plan?" Will asked.

"You can't talk, Mr. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," Francie snapped.

"That's a word," Will maintained. "There's an entire song about it."

"It won't even fit on the board," Francie sighed.

"It will," Will replied. "And when it does I'll be the one laughing as I rack in my five thousand points."

"Fine," Francie said, giving up. "What about your word, Sydney? I can't think of anything that starts out with 'lumo.'"

The unfortunate part was that Sydney couldn't think of a word either, other than the one she'd been thinking of in the first place.

"Lumos?" Francie asked when Sydney's turn came around again and she put down another tile. "Is that your whole word?"

"Yeah," Sydney replied, deciding, in hindsight, that it might have been wiser to abandon her word and move on to another one.

"Are you sure it's a word?" Will asked.

"It's Latin," Sydney replied, hoping she was right. "It means light."

"Isn't there a rule against dead languages?" Francie asked.

Will shrugged and fished out the game's instructions while Francie located the biggest dictionary in the apartment. However, that dictionary and two online encyclopedias later, Sydney still hadn't managed to prove that the word 'lumos' existed, Latin or otherwise. Thus, she had to give up on it, muttering, "I must have remembered it wrong," as an excuse, and in return, Francie and Will gave questioning her about it.

"It's better than Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," Francie muttered as they returned to the game board. "At least it looks like a word."

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is a word," Will maintained.

"Find it in the dictionary, fit it on the board, then we'll talk," Francie offered, shoving the dictionary over to him.

Will licked his finger pointedly, and started flipping through the dictionary. A few minutes later he announced, "Got it."

"What?" Sydney and Francie yelped simultaneously.

"Right here," Will continued. "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, noun, the title of a song in Mary Poppins, generally accepted as the longest word in the English language."

"You do realize that you just lost whatever credibility you had with us," Francie muttered.

"What?" Will demanded. "That's what it says."

"There's got to be at least fifteen words that are longer than that," Sydney agreed.

"Only you, Syd," Francie sighed.

"What?" Sydney asked. "You do know that when I'm not at the bank I'm at school, studying this fair language that we're all speaking."

"Taken a course in long words, have you?" Francie pressed.

"I think we've gotten a bit off topic here," Will said.

"It's not a word, Will," Francie muttered.

"It's right here!" Will exclaimed, pointing into the dictionary. "Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"

"And saying it louder won't turn it into one," Francie continued.

"Just makes you sound precocious," Sydney laughed.

"It's already something quite atrocious," Francie said, catching on.

"Quoting the song isn't helping your case," Will pointed out with a shrug as he placed another tile.

Sydney and Francie locked eyes over the board, then stood up simultaneously, clasped hands, and began dancing around in circles, singing, "There's no need for dismay, just summon up this word and then you've got a lot to say. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!"

"How do you remember the words to that?" Will muttered as he got up to put the remaining beer back in the refrigerator.

***************

"Ron, are you alright? That's the fourth time you've retied your shoe since we got here," Hermione said dismissively, looking around the beautifully sunlit if slightly snow covered park as she paused to wait for her companion.

Ron sighed and cursed how observant she was, although he counted five attempts. Perhaps she hadn't noticed the connection to the time he'd called it off before he even made it to the ground and made out like he'd tripped instead.

"I heard George was working on something to keeping making knots untie, zippers unzip, and buttons come undone," Hermione continued. "Maybe he's using you as a test subject."

Ron knew his shoelaces were in perfect working order, but was grateful for the excuse and merely shrugged. For the moment, he had some serious thinking to do. Hermione was already getting suspicious, anything more like this and she'd know for sure that something was up, George's jokes or not. So this was it, right here, do or don't, do or don't, do or don't, or die, or do...

He reached a shaky hand into his pocket and pulled it out a small box.

or don't...

or do.

With a final surge or courage, Ron straightened up on one knee and opened the box.

"Hermione?"

He had, of course, thought a great deal about what to say, although he had never made it as far as practicing it, a fact he soon came to regret.

"I know we haven't always gotten along, but I think we've gotten over our differences, and I wanted to say that you are the greatest girl I have ever met, since I met you, and I think I love you, so would you, maybe, marry me?"

Ron winced. Brilliant delivery, really swept her off her feet, that did.

He suspected that Hermione had gotten the general idea of what he was asking, but she was clearly trying to get there they long was around, by sorting out what he'd actually said. All Ron could do was wait nervously as Hermione stared thoughtfully at him. At last she dropped down to her knees in front of him, a smile creeping onto her face.