When he joined the CIA, like a lot of rookies, he had visions of James Bond dancing in his head. Save the world, drink the best drinks, get the girl, have all the good lines and, when it’s all said and done, drive off into the sunset in a really cool car and do all of it without ever ruining the suit. He knew he didn’t fit the Bond type. More cuddly teddy bear than harder-than-nails badass but, a guy could dream right?

Well, anywhere but the CIA he could. The reality of the Agency very quickly did away with the Bond illusions faster than any supervillian’s super secret death ray ever would. Paperwork, paperwork, and for a change, paper cuts, became the sum total of Eric Weiss’ existence. He read report after report and analysis after analysis. Almost all saying “something was out there” and “someone was planning something”, there was an occasional “apprehended such and such” would crop up but nary a Dr. No or Goldfinger in the bunch and if he’d even so much thought of comparing their secretary to Moneypenny, there would have been serious bloodshed. But it would have been his blood doing the shedding and well...he kinda liked that right where it was. All nice and safe in his veins.

But then the SpyGods were merciful and intervened to save Weiss from a life of sheer boredom and indigestion through too many burritos. In their infinite wisdom, they saw fit to send one Sydney Bristow into his life - okay, into Vaughn’s life but close enough - and all of a sudden he had supervillians and end of the world schemes flying out the yinyang. And he was still cuddly Weiss but now he was cuddly badass Weiss.

He had to admit, he kinda liked cuddly badass Weiss better. But even if he did, he couldn’t help the nostalgia that swept over him as he passed a rookie stumbling out of the elevator with a mile-high stack of reports. Reports no doubt relating to the very mission he was leaving on. A rendevous with an Irish bomb maker. He couldn’t help stopping to give the young woman a hand with the reports as they started to slide and he really couldn’t help but give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

“Hang in there kid, some day your Bristow shall come.”

finis

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