But I suck because I keep scribbling rough notes to amuse myself, notes I probably won't turn into stories, though...um. I may write something. Someday. Maybe.
Vaughn has had a traumatic experience where he was trying to save a young girl who was killed by a terrorist. He held her in his arms as she died. He's been on leave from the agency for a month, to the day, when Jack--who was on the mission with him--turns up at his apartment.
Vaughn: It's a month to the day. What did you do, put it on your calendar?
Jack: Yes. [pause] A visit would have been too easy to avoid otherwise.
Vaughn: So this is the obligatory 'come back to the agency' talk, right?
Jack: It's not obligatory. No one asked me to come here, and I wouldn't do it for just anyone.
Vaughn, caught off-guard, takes a moment to absorb this before turning away to pour a drink: I didn't know I was that special.
Jack, expressionlessly: ...
Vaughn, sitting down on the couch with his glass after this has sunk in: Okay, lay it on me.
Jack: You're an asset to the agency.
Vaughn: That's it? That's the best you can do?
Jack, suppressing a sigh: No. I just hoped that would be enough. [getting serious] Michael, you're a superior agent--
Vaughn, interrupting: Excuse me? I'm a what?
Jack, irritated at being asked to repeat himself: What part of that don't you understand?
Vaughn: The part where you call me 'superior'. From you that's like--telling me I have beautiful eyes.
Jack, reining in his impatience mightily: Nevertheless--
Vaughn, with a deathly sincere expression: You aren't actually here to ask me on a date, are you? Because I don't think I'm drunk enough for that.
Jack, clenching his jaw: Why don't I come back when you're sober. [sarcasm:] Will I have to wait another month for that?
[Vaughn looks away]
Jack: Perhaps you're too drunk to appreciate this, but you *are* a valuable agent. I trust you with my life every time we work together. [voice growing deliberate:] I trust you with Sydney's life. [Vaughn is looking at him again now] I think you know there are not many people I would say that to.
[Vaughn nods a little, or maybe doesn't quite]
Jack: I won't insult you by telling you to snap out of this. We both know this kind of thing takes time. But if you leave the agency, you'll be doing a disservice to yourself and to the people who count on you.
Vaughn, staring off into space: She died in my arms, Jack.
Jack, nearly expressionless again, takes a slight breath as his gaze lowers: I know.