Both Darkness and Dreams

by capercailiechild

Sydney and Vaughn are sent undercover. No Lauren, maybe an alternate third season-type of mission.

Both Darkness and Dreams

By capercailiechild

Disclaimer: I do not own Alias. I wish I did, but that is a completely different story. The title comes from an Enya song called "Once You Had Gold," and the whole line is Time gave both darkness and dreams / To you. Wish On a Star is a fictional organization. Destin and Sandestin exist, as do The Crab Trap and Big Kahuna's. Seaside also exists, though it's not called Seaside Artists' Colony, and The Truman Show really was filmed there. To my knowledge, no program like Runaround exists, although it would be awfully cool. None of the technology is correct, probably... I don't know anything about safes. I do know, however, that those net pole things make excellent weapons. I own all the characters you don't recognize, and I think I modeled Agent Donegal off someone I don't like. The kids' disorders in the story are all real, and I used Yahoo Health to research them. To my knowledge, a textbook called Psychology exists, but I could not remember the real author.

Thanks to: Avril Lavigne's new album, Under My Skin, which provided excellent music to type by. (No, I didn't steal it, I listened to the MTV version on "The Leak.") My sister, who provided good inspiration for the moments when I was stuck. Other-Amanda also deserves huge thanks, for telling me this story was good enough to seem like an Alias "prelude" novel, which we devour obsessively. Thanks also go out to Meg P-D, who told me to make Sydney wear lime-green shoes.

Dedication: This story is dedicated to the most awesome Holly M, because she read it during band rehearsal and told me it rocked.

Premise: Sydney and Vaughn are assigned to do some undercover work. What's so new about that? This time, they're infiltrating Wish On a Star, a Florida-based organization for kids with terminal illnesses and disabilities, which is rumored to have connections to the Covenant. They'll be posing as the parents of Rowan Dervegaard, a new agent from the CIA's "Teenage Agents Program." The catch? Rowan is blind, but she certainly doesn't miss anything. Can Sydney and Vaughn successfully determine the Covenant's involvement with the charity while not ruining a vacation for kids? What exactly is the CIA's plan behind the "Teenage Agents Program"? What does Irina have to do with the whole thing? Is Agent Donegal evil, and what is she hiding? Can Syd's sister save the day? And why does Marshall keep smiling whenever he watches MTV?

"Agents Vaughn, Bristow?" Director Dixon said. "Could you come in here for a moment?"
Vaughn glanced at Sydney. They had both just arrived. Sydney was still carrying her Starbucks coffee cup. Vaughn set his briefcase on his desk and tugged at his blue-and-gold striped tie. "Sure, Dixon," he answered. Sydney headed into the briefing room ahead of him. He smiled as he noticed the clip she was wearing in her hair – it was a tortoiseshell piece, carved to look like the sun. It was the most accessorized he had ever seen Sydney, and it contrasted sharply with the black pantsuit and black flats she was wearing.
"What's up?" Sydney asked.
"Well, as you know, Agents Bristow and Weiss are currently on assignment in Massachusetts," Dixon said.
Vaughn and Sydney nodded.
"Another assignment has come up, and we've decided to send you two. Could you step into my office? There's someone there who will help explain the assignment."
They played follow-the-leader again into Dixon's office. A petite blond was seated in one of his armchairs. She was dressed impeccably in a light blue linen suit with pumps the same color and a single strand of pearls around her neck. "Agent Michael Vaughn, Agent Sydney Bristow, this is Agent Laura Donegal."
"How do you do?" Agent Donegal asked, smiling. She had perfect, straight, white teeth.
"Fine, thank you," Sydney answered as she and Vaughn both shook Agent Donegal's hand. It was bejeweled with a gold-and-pearl bracelet and two rings with large diamonds. On her other wrist was a watch with a blue patent-leather band that perfectly matched her suit.
"Agent Donegal is in charge of the CIA's current recruitment program," Dixon related, seating himself behind his desk. "She'd like to speak to you about your next assignment."
"Thank you, Director Dixon," Agent Donegal said. "I'm in charge of recruiting," she said to Vaughn and Sydney, "and recently, we've implemented a new plan to allow eager teenagers to see what it would be like to be CIA agents."
Sydney and Vaughn glanced at each other. They both weren't sure if they liked where this was going.
"The most innovative thing we've ever done was to start training sensory-deprived children to fight and work with their other senses just as fully functional agents do. One of our recruits, Rowan Dervegaard, has been training with us since she was ten. She is blind, but from the way she fights, you wouldn't know it."
"Why exactly do you do this, Agent Donegal?" Vaughn asked.
"We believe that it's key for CIA agents to come from a variety of lifestyles and backgrounds. By identifying potential agents early on, we're giving them a head start." Agent Donegal passed a slim camcorder tape to Sydney. "This is a tape of Rowan during a recent exhibition we had at the training center. I'm sure you'll be very interested to see it."
"Yes, thank you," Sydney said, handing the tape to Vaughn. He tucked it inside his navy blazer. "So, what's our assignment?"

Dixon stood and handed them each a file. "We've received word from an anonymous source that a Florida-based charity called Wish On a Star may have ties to the Covenant. Most specifically, we believe they are hiding an artifact known as The Cyclone. The charity provides vacations for children with terminal illnesses or disabilities. We want you and Vaughn to infiltrate the charity and report back. If you can, recover The Cyclone and have it brought back here for investigation."
"This is where my organization comes in," Agent Donegal continued. "Rowan will be going with you. You will be posing as her parents."
Sydney glanced at Vaughn, and found that he was already looking at her. Dixon finished, "You'll be leaving tomorrow afternoon. Agent-in- Training Dervegaard will be reporting here this afternoon for briefing."
Vaughn and Sydney left Dixon's office. "What do you think?"
"I'm not sure," Vaughn confessed. "It seems rather barbaric to me to train kids with disabilities to fight for their country."
Sydney agreed, nodding. "Well, I just hope she's as good as Agent Donegal seems to think she is."
"Oh, right, the tape." Vaughn removed it from his blazer pocket. "Let's go see if Marshall will run it for us on his computer."

Marshall was sitting in what Weiss sometimes referred to as "the cave." Instead of creating new gadgets or hacking security systems, he was seated in a comfortable rolling chair, his stocking feet propped up on a box of electronics, watching MTV. He was casually dressed in chinos and a mulberry-colored pullover sweater. Sydney frowned at him as she came in. Marshall was smiling and didn't hear as the two agents entered. "Marshall," Sydney said finally, "what are you doing?"
"Oh! Oh!" he said, startled. "I was... I was watching MTV."
"Yes, I can see that. The question is, why?"
"Oh." He chortled. "Uh. I was watching... uh... the new Avril Lavigne video."
Vaughn and Sydney sent each other a glance. "Anyway, Marshall, we've got a camcorder tape here. Can you run it for us?" Vaughn asked.
"Oh, sure!" Marshall said, turned off the TV. He took the tape from Vaughn and slipped it into an external disk drive on his computer. "What is it?" he asked.
"It's from Agent Laura Donegal," Sydney replied.
"From the recruiting offices?" Marshall asked, his eyes focused on the computer screen.
Vaughn nodded. "What do you know about her?"
He shrugged, clicking on a few applications. "She's always been hungry for the top, like a bear. Grr." He made a few animal noises, laughed at himself, and then looked back at Sydney and Vaughn. Neither was laughing. "Oh, but, uh, anyway, this tape..." He opened a video player, and hit "play."
Immediately, a black-and-white image popped up on the screen. It was Agent Donegal. "Welcome to training video for the CIA's archives, record number 17-12-10. Subject: Rowan Dervegaard."
Agent Donegal's voice fell silent, and the camera panned over to look inside a small room. A girl sat inside the room on a tall stool. She wore dark glasses. It was ostensibly Rowan. As Sydney, Vaughn, and Marshall watched, a door opened at the side of the room and three tall, bulky men stormed in. They were dressed for a rumble of sorts, in dark pants and dark sweaters.
A fight ensued, as the agents knew it would. Oddly enough, the blind girl fought mysteriously well. She was never looking at one attacker – she never looked directly at any of them at all – and her kicks and punches hit their marks. No one was calling out directions to her, as Sydney had seen a karate master do for a blind student. She just simply seemed to know exactly what to do. At the end of the exercise, the three attackers were on the floor. So was Rowan.
Agent Donegal's voiceover began again. "You will see, as previously demonstrated in videos 17-12-09 and 17-12-08, that this fighting leaves subject R drained of energy. So far we have not discovered a way to combat this energy sapping, but it is usually over within an hour."
As she spoke, one of the men arose, and scooped up the girl. She appeared to weigh nothing in his arms.
Marshall shut off the video. "That's gross. Why did we have to watch that?"
"That girl," Vaughn said, nodding to the computer, "is our new assignment."

At three o'clock, Dixon, Vaughn, and Sydney were standing in front of Sydney's desk. Agent Donegal magically reappeared out of nowhere, looking as fresh and pretty as she had that morning. Her hair, which had been in a French twist that morning, was still held in place with its blue lacquered chopsticks, which matched the blue of her suit and the blue of her watch exactly. With Agent Donegal was none other than Rowan Dervegaard. Next to Agent Donegal, she looked like a bum, though her clothes were nice enough. She wore black slacks and a crimson blouse, over which a black long-sleeved blouse was partially buttoned. Her long, reddish-brown hair was held back with a black barrette, and she wore dark glasses. In her hand she grasped a white cane with a metal Braille tag attached to the top.
"Agent Donegal, Agent Dervegaard," Dixon said, clearing his throat. "Welcome."
"Rowan, this is Director Dixon," Agent Donegal said, "and Agents Michael Vaughn and Sydney Bristow."
"Pleased to meet you," the girl said. She had a light, musical voice, and smiled as she spoke. "I hear you're going to be my parents."
"Yes," Sydney said, shaking Rowan's hand.
"Let's go into the briefing room, shall we?" Agent Donegal suggested.
Once they were all seated, Dixon began, "Agent Dervegaard, your assignment will be to-"
"I know all about it," Rowan interrupted.
Dixon smiled. "You, Sydney, and Vaughn leave tomorrow for Florida, the Emerald Coast. Here's the information you'll need."
"Thank you," Vaughn said, taking his packet from Dixon. "I'm David Barrett."
"And I'm Angela Barrett," Sydney said, glancing over the information.
Rowan had been scanning the Braille packet quickly. "I'm Elisabeth Barrett."
"See Marshall for your op-tech," Dixon reminded Sydney. "Agent Donegal, might I have a word with you in my office?"
They left, and Sydney and Vaughn were left alone with Rowan. She smiled eagerly in their general direction. "I'm very pleased to be working with you," she said. "I have heard many things about you from Director Dixon and Agent Bristow."
Vaughn glanced at Sydney; Sydney's eyes were on the blind girl. "Rowan," she said, "do you know what you're getting yourself into? The Covenant... it's not just a game."
Rowan's lips pursed. "Agent Bristow, I thank you kindly for your concern, but I've been studying and training with Agent Donegal since I was ten. Before that, I took martial arts with my brother."
"What about the energy sapping?" Vaughn asked quietly.
She said nothing for a moment, then took off her glasses and rubbed her sightless eyes. "They haven't found a way to get around it. Agent Vaughn, are you familiar with the textbook Psychology, Third Edition, by Randall Kent?"
Vaughn nodded; everyone at the agency was at least a little familiar with psychology. "Yes."
"Have you read the section on sensory deprivation tanks?"

"Yes."
"I spent two weeks in a sensory deprivation tank."

"That's impossible," Vaughn said. "The book even says that no one has survived much longer in a deprivation tank than two or three days, maybe."
Rowan's face was again a mask. "Yes, but there are individuals who can do it, Agent Vaughn. It would do you well to learn that once one sense is gone, you don't really miss the others."
The door opened, and Agent Donegal reappeared. "Rowan, Agents Vaughn and Bristow, Director Dixon mentioned that Marshall is ready for op-tech."
Rowan took her cane and stood. Before Vaughn or Sydney could guide her towards the door, she was already out in the hallway, walking away from them. "Creepy," Vaughn said, hoping to garner a reaction from Sydney.
"Creepy... or just obsessively dedicated," Sydney said, and that was all she said, until they reached Marshall's office.

"So, yeah, you'll be going in as tourists, right? I love tourists. I've always wanted to be one. Once, I went on a cruise to Niagara Falls and I tried to be a tourist, right? And I got arrested for trying to leap off the fence. But the police, they were really nice and - "
"Marshall," Vaughn said.
"Right," the tech specialist said, breaking off his Niagara Falls story mid-sentence. "So I've designed this pair of sunglasses here for you, Agent Vaughn. You put them on" – he did so – "and voila, you're Mr. Joe Cool." He leaned back, obviously enjoying his cool pose. "And the cool part? They detect safes, radioactive material, and have infrared vision." He handed them to Vaughn.
"And for you, Sydney," Marshall said, leaning over to grab a silver case off his desk, "I've designed a camera and safe cracker." He opened the case. In the center of it was a beaded necklace, which had been made in the island style of jewelry, utilizing bright colors and large beads. "I figured it would look perfect in Florida." He passed the case to Sydney.
"And for you, Agent... Is she an agent?"
Agent Donegal nodded. "Yes, Agent Dervegaard is an agent in the full sense of the word. She belongs to the CIA as a full member, and has an ID."
Marshall smiled. "See? That's really good. I wish I had an ID. I mean, I have an ID, but... Never mind. So, for you, I made this." He pulled a thin envelope out of a pile on his desk. From inside the envelope, he brandished two flat, black pieces of plastic and handed them to Rowan. Her sensitive fingers covered every inch of the plastic. "They're shoe inserts. With a microphone. So we can hear what's going on while Sydney's camera is on."
"Good. Thank you."
Dixon knocked on the door and came in. "Sydney, Vaughn, I've just received communication from the Los Angeles airport. Your plane leaves tomorrow morning at 10:30. You'll be taking Delta flight 717 to Atlanta, and from Atlanta you'll be taking a flight to the airport in Fort Walton Beach. A rental car will be waiting there for you."
"Thanks," Sydney said.
"Pack," Dixon suggested, "and Sydney, your father mentioned that he would call you before you left. Or you could call him at his Massachusetts phone number."
"Will do. Thanks, Marshall."
"Sydney, wait," Marshall said as Vaughn, Rowan, and Agent Donegal left. "Your father asked me to give you this." He held out a disk.
"What is it?"
"It's a program your father developed called Runaround. He wants you to contact your mother using it. He thinks she has something to do with The Cyclone."

The next morning, Sydney and Vaughn picked Rowan up at her residence, a dormitory-style building on the campus of Agent Donegal's training facility. They had dressed their parts. Vaughn was wearing chinos and a navy blue polo shirt. He had combed his hair carefully, done a quick spray- on tan, and sported Marshall's sunglasses, while Sydney had opted for white Capri pants, a red-and-white-striped tank top, and red flat sandals, along with Marshall's necklace. Her hair had been quick-streaked with a blondish color, and she wore what she considered to be too much lipstick. Rowan had dressed her part, too. The girl was unusually excited, dressed in khaki shorts, a light blue T-shirt, and sandals. Someone had twisted back her long hair into a waist-length braid. "We're going to Florida!" she exclaimed quietly. "I've never been to Florida."
"The best part?" Vaughn said, trying to begin his role as father. "You don't have to speak a foreign language there."
Sydney smiled. "Are you all packed?"
Rowan nodded as Vaughn put her suitcase into the trunk. "Yes, I packed myself. Agent Donegal offered to help me, but I told her I could do it on my own."
Vaughn pulled away from the parking lot, and Sydney said, "What's your relationship with Agent Donegal?"
Rowan was thoughtful for a moment. "She's like a mother to me, I suppose. My own parents live in Canada. When they heard about this program, they sent me here. I haven't seen them for awhile. My brother lives around here – up by Santa Rosa. He's a bricklayer."
"Have you been on many missions before?" Vaughn asked.
"Two others," Rowan replied. "One was to Russia, with Agent Donegal and her supervising officer, Agent Patrick Michaud. That was a total success. The other was in Mexico, last year. Unfortunately, one of our agents blew our cover. She was killed in an escape."
"Why do you do this?" Sydney questioned quietly. "It's hard enough doing this with all your senses intact, but you're..." She paused, trying to say something kind.
"I'm blind. You can say it. I'm blind. I know it's hard to do it with all your senses, but I have four great senses that haven't failed me yet."
Awhile later, they pulled into the long-term parking lot at the Los Angeles airport. "All right, Mom and Dad, ready?" Rowan asked, smiling.
"Sure, Elisabeth, let's grab our suitcases and go," Vaughn said, playing along with their alias.
Once inside the terminal, the threesome checked their bags and checked in at the airport counter. After that, they had a while to wait before their flight was called. Vaughn bought a USA Today. Rowan read the latest Dean Koontz novel in Braille. Sydney people-watched and occasionally touched up her makeup, as she thought befitted a woman named Angela Barrett. She ate a peppermint and rechecked her lipstick. Nothing seemed to be amiss, until Rowan looked up for what seemed the fourth or fifth time, and said quietly to Sydney, "Is there a man over there?"
Sydney turned in the direction Rowan was facing. Sure enough, a dark- haired man of Mediterranean descent seemed to be studying them occasionally from behind his Newsweek. "David," she said to Vaughn, "what do you think of that man over there?"
Vaughn looked up. "He should stop staring at my wife and daughter, or else I'd have a mind to go punch him out."
Sydney frowned inwardly. Vaughn had pegged the man the same way she had – as Covenant. This wasn't turning out well. But the man looked back down at his Newsweek, and did not look back up.
It was just as well, for then Sydney's phone rang. "Hello?"
"Hello, Sydney," said Jack Bristow.
"Hi, Dad!" Sydney said. She leaned over to Vaughn and said, "David, it's my father!" Into the phone, she said, "David says hello, Dad."
"That's good. Weiss and I are almost finished with our trip to Massachusetts, but there's something odd going on that we wanted you to be aware of."
"What is it, Dad? Everything's all right at the beach house, isn't it?"
"We've discovered an anomaly in Covenant reports about The Cyclone. The reports Agent Weiss transcribed from the original Greek translator, Joachim Stephanotis, seem to say that The Cyclone is a person. Other reports translated from the Hebrew by our friend Yeshua Stein, mention that The Cyclone is a box. I think your mother has something to do with this, Sydney. Did Marshall give you the Runaround disk?"

"Yes, he did, Dad," Sydney answered. "Are you sure I can get a hold of Mom?"

"If I'm correct, then the program should work just as expected. Plug it into your laptop and it will connect you to Irina, wherever she is."
"Thanks," Sydney said, suddenly touched by her father's efforts.
"You're welcome. I've got to go, Weiss and I are packing up to head back to Los Angeles. Have a good time on your trip."

"We will. I'll send you a postcard."
Sydney disconnected and leaned over to give Vaughn a kiss. While she was next to his ear, she murmured, "My father thinks my mother has something to do with The Cyclone."
He nodded, but said nothing.
Just then, a plump woman with bright reddish curls sat down next to Sydney. "Hi! Are y'all on the Wish On a Star trip? I am! I'm Mary-Lou Hedges." She waved at Vaughn, who nodded. "And this is my husband, Angus, and our son, Kenneth." She motioned to a bear of a man in navy wind pants and a gray pullover sweater, and a boy in a wheelchair next to him. "Kenneth's got spina bifida."
Sydney smiled, falling into her character's natural accent. "I'm Angela Barrett, this is my husband David, and our daughter, Elisabeth."
"Well, pleased as heck to meet y'all!" Mary-Lou said. "Do you know where y'all are staying?"
Vaughn nodded, pulling a brochure out of his pocket. "We're staying at Free Fall on the Ocean," he read from the sheet.
"Oh, that's lovely. We stayed there last year, didn't we, Angus?" Angus nodded, and Mary-Lou barreled on, "Y'all will love that place. It's got the nicest view of the ocean." She glanced at Rowan and stopped abruptly.
Rowan spoke as though she had not heard. "I can't wait to go swimming in the ocean, Mom!"
"Me neither," Sydney agreed. "And we might even go to Disney World for a day or two."
"All right!"
"We went to Disney World last year," Kenneth related. "I got to ride Space Mountain four times!"
Rowan grinned. "Only four? If I go, I'm going to ride it ten times."
"Fourteen."
"Twenty."
"All right, kids," Mary-Lou interrupted. "What else are you doing on the trip?"

"We've been booked to see some artists at the Seaside Artists' Colony."
"Oh! That's lovely," Mary-Lou said. "Did you know The Truman Show was filmed there?"

Vaughn nodded. "That's one of my favorite movies."
"Angus's too. Mine's Singing in the Rain."
Just then, a flight attendant stepped to the airport counter. "Hello and welcome to Delta Flight 717 to Atlanta. My name is William and I'd like to announce that we are now boarding first class rows one through five. Again, that's first class rows one through five. Please check your ticket to find your boarding number, it is in the lower right hand corner."
Vaughn pulled the tickets from his briefcase. "Okay, we're row 15, seats A, B, and C. Angela, I think you're next to the window, and I'm on the aisle."
"We're row four," Mary-Lou said. "We'll see y'all in Fort Walton Beach!"
"Bye!" Rowan said cheerfully as Kenneth, Angus, and Mary-Lou left to board.
"Did the man leave?" Vaughn asked Sydney.
Sydney peered over her red-framed sunglasses. The Newsweek-reading man had disappeared from the gate. "I guess he's gone."
"Good. Keep an eye out for him," Vaughn suggested.
They boarded in the next fifteen minutes. A female flight attendant with a name badge reading "Laura" suggested to Sydney that Rowan fold up her cane. "It is a rather large object to keep in the seat," she said. "Does it fold up?"
Rowan nodded. "Yes."
"We'll put it in the overhead bin, if you'd like," Laura suggested.
"That seems rather inconvenient," Sydney informed the flight attendant. "What if she needs to use the restroom?" She smiled patronizingly at the woman.
"Well, then she can keep it in the seat pocket."
"We'll take care of it," Vaughn told the flight attendant.
They soon spotted other families from the Wish On a Star trip. Mary- Lou seemed to be friendly with all of them, and was continuously introducing them to Sydney and Vaughn. By the time the flight attendants closed the doors, they had met Alex and Michelle, whose daughter Kendall had cerebral palsy; Dan and Rachel, whose sons Peter and Chris had cystic fibrosis, Emma and her partner Molly, whose daughter Kara was afflicted with muscular dystrophy and whose son Reginald (called Reggie for short) had Smith-Magenis Syndrome, and Karen and Lewis, whose twin daughters Erin and Eowyn were deaf and suffered from an undiagnosed neurological disorder. On the whole, the kids seemed extremely excited about going to Florida. Most were the same age as Kenneth and Rowan. Reggie was the youngest out of the group, at ten, and Peter was the oldest at seventeen.
Sydney's cell phone rang just as the flight attendants were demonstrating seat belt procedures, and the flight attendant nearest her, a man named Duncan, frowned at her and whispered, "Cell phones are restricted on this flight. You'll have to turn it off or surrender it to me."
"It'll just be a minute," Sydney said, trying to look pleading. "I'm sure it's just my father, telling me he got home from Massachusetts safely."
Duncan frowned again, but said nothing as, next to him, Laura continued to demonstrate seat belt procedures. Sydney flipped the phone open. "Hello?"
"Sydney, it's Marshall."
"Marshall?"
"Um, yeah, I know this seems a little odd, but I asked Director Dixon for your phone number, and he said... isn't it weird how you forget what day it is? I thought today was Sunday and you hadn't left yet... but anyway..."
"Yes?"
"The program your father gave you? Runaround? Have you tested it yet?"
"No," Sydney replied. "We just got on the plane, and they're making us shut off our cell phones, Marshall, so make it quick."
"Well! Um..." The tech expert tried to think of what to say. In the background, Sydney could hear music.
"Marshall! Are you watching MTV again?"
"Well... uh... the program? Make sure you use a local server with it, or else you could be exposing Irina's location," Marshall said hurriedly. "Bye."

He disconnected, and Sydney shut off her cell phone, much to the relief of Duncan.
The flight was uneventful. Rowan read and talked to Kendall, who was sitting across the aisle. Vaughn napped and read USA Today. Sydney, thankful that the ban on electronics did not include laptops, pulled her computer out and loaded the Runaround disk into it.
Instantly the screen went blank and a prompt came up. "Local or international server?" it read. Sydney clicked on "local." Another prompt came up, reading "Connection speed?" Sydney selected 256K, as befitted her wireless modem. The screen went blank again, and a gray box came up in the corner of the screen. The heading at the top of the box read: "Runaround Version 2.7. Connection: 256K."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then words began to appear on the screen, and Sydney stared at them. She was talking to her mother. Mom? Yes, I'm here. Your father gave you the Runaround program, I see. He told me to ask you about The Cyclone. There's some inconsistencies in the translation of its description. Right. One describes it as a person. The other describes it as a box. Which is true? No one knows for sure. You'll have to find it. Is it really in Florida? I suppose so. There have been reports from the outsider KGB units recently telling of a transport of The Cyclone from its base in Upper Mongolia to the city of Destin, Florida. Is it safe there? That's to be determined. Who had The Cyclone last? A group called Rambaldi's Thumbs. They're an offshoot group of the London Rambaldi Society, which is a major organization currently in talks to acquire 70% of the already-discovered Rambaldi artifacts. Are they dangerous? I don't think so.
Duncan, the flight attendant, leaned over the seat. "Ma'am? If you wouldn't mind, the pilot has asked that all non-essential electronic devices be turned off at this time, so that the navigation systems can guide us safely to Atlanta."
Sydney looked up at him, smiled and nodded, then typed, I've got to go. Does this disk work twice? I assume so. Your father designed it. Contact me again when you're in Destin, and I'll uplink the most recent map to The Cyclone. Thanks.
Sydney switched off the computer and looked around the plane. Vaughn was napping. Rowan was entranced by the Braille book on her lap. Sydney smiled and said, "Are you having fun?"
Rowan nodded solemnly. "Yes, Mom, a lot of fun. How's Grandpa?"
"Oh, it wasn't Grandpa. It was Uncle Marshall," Sydney said. "He just wanted to give me some directions to the beach house. Seems he felt his computer technology could outsmart the directions the organization gave us."
Rowan smiled. "That's Uncle Marshall for you."
"He said to tell you to have a good time."
"I will. Let's send him a postcard from Disney World," the girl suggested.
"Sounds good."

The plane touched down in the Atlanta airport a little past noon. Sydney awoke Vaughn, who had been sleeping pleasantly since the plane had been over Texas, and the two of them helped the other Wish on a Star parents and their children get off the plane. Mary-Lou, Angus, and Kenneth had been sitting in first class with two other Wish on a Star families, but the majority of the families were in coach with Sydney, Vaughn, and Rowan. Some parents, like Emma and Molly, had two kids to get off the plane, along with their equipment. Sydney volunteered herself to carry Kara until Emma found her wheelchair. The girl, who told Sydney she was fourteen, weighed no more than a hundred pounds, which Sydney found no trouble to bear. Molly brought up the rear with Reggie, whose leg braces and unsteady gait gave him trouble in the narrow airplane aisles.
Rowan and Vaughn met up with Sydney at the baggage claim. Kara's wheelchair had been located. "Are we here yet, Mom?" Kara asked, looking up at Emma.
Emma shook her head. "Not yet. We've still got to take a plane to Fort Walton Beach, and then we'll drive to our house from the airport." "I want to be there!" Reggie whined. He appeared exhausted after their flight to Atlanta. "Shh," Emma said to Reggie. "We'll be there soon." Smiling apologetically to Sydney and Vaughn, she said, "Hi. I'm Emma Peterson, and this is my partner Molly Ramos. We're staying at Freefall on the Sea."
"So are we!" Sydney exclaimed. "I'm Angela Barrett, and this is my husband David, and our daughter Elisabeth."
The further necessary introductions were made, and by that time Mary- Lou, Angus, and Kenneth had caught up with them. "That nice flight attendant, Duncan, says our connection leaves at two for Fort Walton Beach," Mary-Lou reported. "Our luggage is getting put on the plane as we speak, but they couldn't find Kenneth's wheelchair for us."
Kenneth nodded from his position in Angus's arms. "It sucks."
"Don't say sucks, honey," Mary-Lou reprimanded her son gently. "Hey, look, y'all, there's Dan and Rachel. Let's go over and sit with them."
Dan and Rachel Lewis and their sons Peter and Chris were sitting near the Cinnabon stand. Peter was tall and gawky, listening to an iPod and reading Wired. Chris played his GameBoy. Only Dan and Rachel acknowledged the presence of the three families. "Hey!" Rachel greeted Mary-Lou enthusiastically, giving her a hug. "We haven't seen you since last year. We're from Missouri," she said to Sydney and Vaughn, who nodded.
"This here is Angela and David Barnett, and their daughter Elisabeth," Mary-Lou said.
"Nice to meet you," Sydney said.
"Is that... Emma and Molly?" Rachel asked in surprise. "Hey! I haven't seen you guys since we went on that rafting trip to the Outer Keys! How's Kara and Reggie?"

"You can ask them yourself!" Emma replied, wheeling Kara forward. Molly placed her hands on Reggie's shoulders, helping the boy stumble forward to give Rachel a hug.
Once the introductions had been made all around, the families from Wish On a Star sat around waiting for their connecting flight. The flight to Fort Walton Beach was uneventful and took only forty-five minutes. Sydney took a short nap, as did Rowan. Vaughn remained awake, doing some work on his laptop. He did not see the Runaround disk, nor did he ask what Sydney had been doing earlier. There would be plenty of time for that later.

Free Fall on the Sea was a three-story beach house painted light sea- foam green. The trim, steps, and ramp were all white, as was the large wraparound porch and connecting deck the brochure promised. Vaughn was driving the rental vehicle, a light maroon SUV. Molly and Emma followed behind in their gray van, which had a much-needed wheelchair lift.
"It's lovely," Sydney exclaimed as they pulled up. The ocean was roaring in the background and a light breeze was up. She could taste salt on her lips.
Rowan's face was stretched in an immense grin. Sydney didn't think the girl had stopped smiling since they'd left the airport at Fort Walton Beach. Vaughn put the SUV in park. "Let's take the bags inside," he suggested, "and help Molly and Emma with their bags."
Rowan got out first, lifting her pale face to the sun. Sydney stood next to her, watching as the girl unsnapped her cane and began to hesitantly head for the house. Sydney suddenly realized Rowan would need direction in the unfamiliar place. "Two steps just ahead is the first step," she called out.
"Thanks!" Rowan said gladly, stumbling at first but then navigating the rest of the stairs with ease.
Vaughn handed Sydney her navy suitcase and Rowan's black luggage and hefted his own hunter green bag with brown leather trim. "This seems nice," she said to him.
He looked wistful for a moment. "It is nice," he answered, reaching into the SUV to pull out his briefcase.
The two of them entered the house together and set their suitcases in one of the bedrooms. Sydney took Rowan's suitcase down the hall to the bedroom where the girl was standing on the balcony. "It's gorgeous," Rowan breathed.
"I brought you your luggage," Sydney said.
"Thanks, Mom."
"Is there anyone back home you want to call?"
Rowan smiled. "No. I'm glad to be away from all of them."
"Me too."
Vaughn came in. "Let's help Molly and Emma, Angela," he suggested to Sydney.
Reggie had fallen asleep in the car. Molly carried him into the house and set him on the light blue sofa in the living room. Kara wheeled herself up the ramp as Emma, Sydney, and Vaughn followed behind with various pieces of luggage. Once everyone and all of their belongings were inside, the grownups set about opening windows and screen doors, and Rowan and Kara began a game of cards.
"There's no food," Sydney realized.
"We're all supposed to go down to The Crab Shack for dinner," Emma informed her. "We can do some grocery shopping on the way home. It's a tradition for the families to eat dinner together on the first night."
"Right," Molly agreed. "Just like it's tradition for all of the families to have a beach barbecue on Thursday night."
"A beach barbecue. That sounds fabulous," Sydney said.
"It is!" Kara agreed. "We all eat around a bonfire and roast clams..." She drifted off, a dreamy look on her face.
"Let's change and freshen up, and we'll lead you to The Crab Shack," Emma suggested. "It'll give us time to unpack a little."
"Sounds good. Elisabeth, put away some of your clothes, okay?"

"All right, Mom," Rowan agreed.
Vaughn and Sydney went back to the bedroom they'd claimed as their own. Vaughn took Marshall's sunglasses out of his pocket and briefly touched Sydney's necklace. "Are you ready?" he asked.
She smiled, enjoying the slight contact. "Yes," she agreed, smiling.
They quickly changed – Vaughn into khaki shorts and a navy-and-white striped polo, Sydney into a calf-length black skirt and a light pink V- neck. Rowan knocked gently on the door as Sydney was pulling on her black sandals. "Yes?"
"Are you ready? Molly and Emma said it's about a ten-minute drive and traffic looks bad."
The two agents smiled at each other, and prepared themselves for the evening.

The Crab Shack was a large building with white clapboard siding and a red-and-white-striped awning. Vaughn and Sydney found a parking spot in the parking bay next to the building. They waited for Emma and Molly, who had parked in the handicapped parking spot nearest the door, to remove Kara and Reggie from the car. Then they all trooped in together.
Mary-Lou and Angus were in the foyer of the building, a small, wood- paneled room decorated in a decidedly maritime theme. Fish nets and fake fish hung from the ceiling, and varnished plaques bearing old fishing pictures decorated the walls. To the right of the door, a bohemian-looking woman was selling silver jewelry from a glass case while sipping a cup filled with something bright pink. "Angela, David, Elisabeth! Y'all are here!" Mary-Lou exclaimed excitedly. "Our tables are almost ready. The kids are at one, and the adults are at the other."
Sydney recognized most of the other people in the room. Rachel and Dan Lewis were chatting with Alex and Michelle Rowland. On the large outside porch, Chris and Peter, Rachel and Dan's sons, were eagerly discussing something with Kendall Rowland, who had changed into a light blue flowered sundress and sat before the boys in her raspberry-colored wheelchair. Karen and Lewis Sutherland, the other couple Sydney recognized, stood stiffly by themselves in the corner of the foyer with their two daughters, Erin and Eowyn, who were both in wheelchairs.
"Hey, Elisabeth, Kendall's over there," Kara informed Rowan. "Do you want to go talk to her?"
"Sure!" Rowan agreed.
"Here, hang onto the back of my wheelchair and I'll take us over there," Kara suggested.
Sydney gave a smile to Kara and said, "Sounds like a good idea. Don't go far." The girls left, and she turned to Vaughn. "Let's go talk to Karen and Lewis."
He nodded, and they approached the other couple. Karen was a tallish woman with dark hair cut short. She wore an ankle-length khaki skirt, a yellow T-shirt, and a white cardigan sweater, as well as brown flats. Lewis looked stiffly uncomfortable in the bright, crowded room. He looked even more uncomfortable in his clothes – khaki pants, loafers, and a navy polo shirt with a small Irish flag knit into it. Despite their seemingly uneasy manner, both Karen and Lewis smiled as Sydney and Vaughn approached. "Hello," Sydney said. "I'm Angela Barrett, and this is my husband, David. We met on the plane. We're Elisabeth's parents."
Karen nodded. "We're Erin and Eowyn's parents." She nodded towards the girls, who were both wearing knee-length denim shorts and pink T- shirts.
"Pleased to meet you," Lewis added, shaking Vaughn's hand. "Where are you from?"
"Santa Capras, California," Vaughn said.
"Don't believe I've heard of it," Lewis replied.
"It's a small inland town. Specializes in grape-growing for some of the bigger wine producers." Vaughn shrugged offhandedly. "It's nothing extravagant, but it's a lovely place to live."
"Where are you from?" Sydney asked.
"Milwaukee," Karen answered. "My brother Kent teaches up there, and we share a duplex with him."
"I have cousins in Milwaukee as well," Lewis said.
"What do you do for a living?"
"I'm an investment banker," Lewis answered, "and Karen is a substitute teacher at the high school where Kent teaches. What do you do?"
"Angela is a part-time jewelry designer, and I'm a carpenter and furniture repairman," Vaughn informed him.
"Our tables are ready!" Mary-Lou interrupted. "Angela, why don't you sit with Helene and Marcus Arthur? They're Erika and Keith's parents."
Sydney turned, and found herself facing the man from the airport. This time, he was smiling. "Hello," he said pleasantly.
"Marcus Arthur?"
"That's right," the man answered. "And this is my wife, Helene."
"Oh, pardon me. This is my husband David. We're Elisabeth's parents."

"She's quite a charmer," Marcus said, nodding to where Rowan was telling a joke, obviously enjoying the giggles and chortles from Chris, Peter, Kendall, Kenneth, Kara, and Reggie, all of whom were outside on the porch. "Our son Keith has Klippel-Trenaunay-Weber Syndrome, and our daughter Erika has adrenoleukodystrophy. We're from New York."
"Pleased to meet you," Vaughn said as he followed the group into the dining room.
The two tables the waitress indicated were long wooden tables resembling picnic tables, covered with red-and-white-checked tablecloths. The parents had collected their children and were seating them around the table in such a manner that everyone could be easily seen and easily helped. Sydney smiled at Rowan, who seemed to feel the energy, and smiled back. "This is exciting," she said. "Everyone's really friendly."
Apparently the other kids knew who to sit by, determined some time ago. Chris and Peter, the most mobile of the group, sat next to Erin and Eowyn, both of whom needed a lot of help. Kara sat next to Reggie, the better to assist him. The others found their places, and the waitress came around to help figure out drinks. Once everyone had ordered, the conversation turned to other things – discussions of the best physical therapy equipment, special diets, IEPs, and schools for the blind. Sydney was struck how connected all the families were. They all shared the same worries – their kids.
The waitress came back with the drinks, passing lemonades, Dr. Peppers, Cokes, and the assorted lime-green margarita – obviously a nightly special – to the parents. Sydney accepted her lemonade and began to listen to the conversation, saying nothing. Vaughn, seated next to her, was watching Rowan carefully while carrying on a conversation with Lewis.
Food was ordered and was eventually served. The ocean roared in and out, salty sea spray coating everyone's lips and lifting their hearts just a little. Sydney kept her eyes on Marcus and his wife, Helene. Both seemed friendly and earnest, and had not done anything confrontational or suspicious. But still, all three of the agents had pegged the man as someone they should watch.
Once dinner was over, Sydney accompanied Mary-Lou to her family's rental van, a large black affair with a wheelchair lift. Angus was wheeling Kenneth a few steps ahead of them; the boy had fallen asleep at the table. Rowan and Vaughn walked a few paces behind them, Vaughn still talking to Lewis. "Good night, Angela," Mary-Lou said. "Sleep well."
"You too," Sydney said, really meaning it. The parents of these kids deserved so much more than a good night's rest. They deserved a vacation. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"I'm not sure. Probably swimming. And touring. We usually drive up to Seaside for awhile."
"Sounds good. We'll see you at the beach tomorrow, then."
Mary-Lou smiled winningly. "You're such a good friend, Angela." She gave Sydney a hug, and got into the van.
Sydney looked at Vaughn. "Time to go home," she said. "We've got some relatives who need contacting."

Once the kids were in bed and Molly and Emma were watching the eleven- o'clock news, Sydney and Vaughn retired to their room. Sydney booted up her laptop and inserted the Runaround disk. Local connection, she selected, remembering Marshall's warning. 256 K. Within moments, the program was up and running. This time, however, a new prompt came up, asking Sydney, "Conversation: Jack Bristow. Accept?"
She clicked on "OK" and two windows came up, one each for Irina and Jack. Sydney. Hi, Mom. I've got some information on Rambaldi's Thumbs. A contact of mine, Robert Red, has been sent to the Emerald Coast to search out an agent of their program. We don't have any information on The Cyclone. You will. Your father says the translators finally agreed that The Cyclone is a person. A person? Not a box? No. Definitely a person.
With that, Irina uplinked a map to Sydney, then logged off suddenly, leaving Sydney to talk to her father. Hi, Dad. Sydney, good. I'm glad to see the program works. I've signed on to request that you contact your sister, Nadia. She may have information about The Cyclone that either your mother or Arvin has passed on to her. Okay. I will. You can contact her through this disk, using the international connection. But under no circumstances talk to Nadia and your mother at the same time – someone could locate Irina through the program. I understand.
Jack signed off as well. Vaughn spoke up from the corner of the room, where he was using his own laptop. "Listen to this. 'Two days ago, a priceless wooden box was stolen from the Emerald Coast Art Museum, located in Sandestin. This box was carved of ebony tulipwood and inlaid with stained glass believed to have dated back to the fourteenth century. The man believed to be responsible for the theft has been named – Carlos Dittatori. Dittatori, a known criminal with reported ties to many communist organizations, is currently wanted in four countries, including Spain, his native country.' That's from a Sandestin news report."
"Is it our man?"
"Maybe. What did your mom have to say?"
"She says The Cyclone is a person, not a box. And my father says Nadia may know something about it, so I'm supposed to contact her."
They were quiet for a few moments. Vaughn scanned the rest of the news report. Sydney listened intently. "Vaughn," she said, "do you hear something?"
Vaughn listened, too. The living room TV had gone silent. Molly and Emma had probably returned to their room for the night. The kids were quiet in their respective rooms. But underneath the current of silence, Sydney could hear a whistling, whining noise, almost mechanical in its pitch. He nodded. "What do you think it is?"
Sydney shrugged. "I don't know."
Cautiously, the two of them exited the room and peered down the hallway. At one end were the bathroom and a glass door leading out to the outside porch. Across from their room was Rowan's room. A quick check in there revealed that the girl was still asleep. Vaughn carefully turned right, heading for the glass doors in the living room. "On the balcony," he murmured, nodding with his chin towards the door. Both agents could now clearly see a man's figure outlined on the porch. He was holding something in his hand, and the device cast a red glow into the room. It was accompanied by the whining noise.
Sydney moved slowly to the kitchen, where she scooped up a wooden chopping block she'd noticed the previous evening. Vaughn nodded, and held up his hand to count to three. One... two... three. He leapt with sudden dexterity to the door, swung it open, and yanked the mysterious man in by his collar. Sydney prepared to smash the unsuspecting suspect over the head with her chopping block.
The man grunted, face-down on the cream carpet. Vaughn glanced towards the door connecting Molly and Emma's suite of rooms to the main house; it was still closed and there was no sign that either woman had heard anything. "All right," Vaughn said in a low voice. "Let's hear it. Who are you?"
Sydney stood by the man's face, holding her chopping block. She noticed he was wearing a small metal canister attached to his belt. She leaned in closer and plucked it from his belt. "What is this?" she asked, interrupting Vaughn's questioning.
"It is... instructions," the man answered. He had a Russian accent.
Sydney unscrewed the canister and pulled out a roll of cream-colored paper, all with Russian writing on it. "Wait a minute," she said thoughtfully, quickly reading the papers, "you're my mother's contact. Robert Red."
"Da," the man replied. "Irina, she sent me."
"What are you doing here?"
"I am here... to protect the child."
"Rowan? Rowan's an agent."
"Syd," Vaughn said, releasing his grip on Robert Red's neck, "maybe we should take this into the bedroom. In case someone wakes up."
Sydney nodded, and they led Robert back into their bedroom. There, he informed them, "No. Not your Rowan, though Irina says she is good agent. No. The Cyclone."

"You've found The Cyclone?" Vaughn asked.
"Wait. Rowan should be here," Sydney said, and went across the hallway to rouse the other agent, who she found sitting up in bed, reading Dean Koontz.
Once all three were in the bedroom, Robert Red continued his briefing. According to his intelligence, The Cyclone was being held at a secure facility outside of Sandestin. The man who had stolen the Rambaldi box, Carlos Dittatori, was the leader of Rambaldi's Thumbs. The box contained a music box disk made of hammered copper. This disk, once played, would tell The Cyclone where to find Rambaldi's Skull, a bowl- shaped device rumored to contain the elixir of youth. "Carlos, he is getting on in years," Robert continued. "He will do much anything to find Rambaldi's Skull, including kill."
"Who is The Cyclone?"
"A child, maybe no older than ten," Robert answered. "Your sister Nadia, she would know this child. They were in the same holding facility at Petrograd."
Sydney nodded. "I'll go about contacting her in the morning. Where are you staying?"
"The Dunes," Robert replied. "It is... motel down the street. Cheap cable TV."
With that, he stood, handed the rest of the paper to Sydney, and said, "Letter from Irina," and then left by way of the window.

In the morning, Molly and Emma were the first ones up. They were making eggs and bacon by the time Sydney awoke. Vaughn was in the shower and Rowan was still sleeping. "Good morning," Sydney said cheerfully.
"Good morning!" Molly greeted her. "Did you hear that noise last night? Sounded like a motorcycle gang got in a fight or something."
"I slept straight through it," Sydney said, pulling a glass for orange juice from the cupboard. In truth, she had stayed up late, reading the letter Robert Red had given her. She was surprised how much she missed her mother. Irina wrote simply, in Russian, but all of the words were suddenly as necessary to Sydney as air. "Must have been the jet lag."
Emma smiled. "I know how that is. The kids are still zonked."
Vaughn came into the kitchen a few minutes later, as Molly was serving up the eggs. He gave Sydney a good-morning kiss and said, "Did you call your sister yet?"
"No, I bet she's still sleeping," Sydney answered. To Emma and Molly, she said, "My sister Mavis was planning on coming down to spend a few days with us."
"Oh, lovely!" Molly said. "I'm sure we could find her a space."
"There's room in Elisabeth's bedroom," Vaughn interjected. "There's a rollaway cot in our closet."
Emma nodded. "I know, Reggie's sleeping on one of those."
They finished the breakfast preparations and sat down to eat. Sydney did the washing up afterwards, and Vaughn made a phone call to Dixon. Emma and Molly went to rouse Reggie and Kara. Vaughn hung up the phone and turned to Sydney. "Marcus says that it would be wise for us to visit Uncle Robert, and follow his suggestions about tourist stops."
Sydney nodded. "That's the same thing my mom said. I'm going to go e- mail Mavis and see if she's available."
She logged onto the Runaround program. Irina's window did not pop up; neither did a window from her father. However, she found that a connection had been made for her: Nadia. 256 K. International port. Hello, Nadia. Sydney. It is good to hear from you. Agent Bristow told me you would be connecting today. Yes. I hear you have some information on The Cyclone, which has been identified as a child. Robert Red, Mom's contact, mentioned that you know The Cyclone. Yes. The Cyclone is a child known as Zhenya Mazzarov. I was held with her at Petrograd. Where is she? Robert Red says she is held at Sandestin. I know nothing else about that. Are you coming here to assist us? Yes, Agent Bristow has permitted it. He and Director Dixon have discovered that I know the child. When should we expect you? I will be arriving tonight, at the Fort Walton Beach Airport, at 8:30. Thanks.
Sydney logged off and turned to Vaughn. "What's up?"
"We've discovered the location of the warehouse Robert Red says is being used to house The Cyclone and the music box. We go in tonight."
"All right."

The rest of the day was spent at the beach. Reggie seemed content to sit in the surf, held up by Emma. He laughed uproariously whenever the waves hit him. Rowan, led by Vaughn, waded out above her chest, grinning and swallowing upwards of a gallon of water whenever she opened her mouth. Sydney loved the ocean. She loved how it tasted in her mouth and stung her chapped lips. The kids were loving it, too.
Mary-Lou and Angus joined the group eventually. Angus had shed his usual navy wind pants and sweater for a knee-length pair of swimming trunks, while Mary-Lou sported a pink-and-black polka-dotted swimsuit. They had brought along a small cart, which resembled nothing more than a large laundry basket on wheels, and they set Kenneth in it. By pushing with his hands, Kenneth could roll alternately in and out of the ocean. He let Kara take a ride in it. Then Mary-Lou discovered that both Kenneth and Kara could fit into the cart, and from then on the two were inseparable, rolling around, fighting over where to go, and occasionally tipping the cart over into the salty surf.
When afternoon came, the parents packed up their tired, sandy, sunburned kids and took them back to their respective houses. Mary-Lou and Angus were staying next door at a house called Pineapple Welcome House. They promised to come over the next night for dinner. As Sydney approached the door, she murmured to Vaughn, "We may not even be here by tomorrow night. If we get The Cyclone, we're supposed to go home. All of us."
"I know," he replied softly. "We'll just have to see. Maybe Agent Donegal would let us stay..." He gave her a suggestive smile.
When they entered the kitchen, Molly was on the phone. "Oh, here they are!" she said. "Angela, the phone's for you."
"Who is it?" Sydney asked.
"Says her name's Laura. A neighbor of yours." Molly handed the phone to Sydney.
"Hello?"
"Agent Bristow, this is Agent Donegal."

"Oh. What can I do for you today, Laura?"

Sydney could tell that Agent Donegal was probably frowning at the informal use of her name. Even if it meant blowing cover, Agent Donegal probably disliked answering to anything but her title. "Well, I've just received word that Rowan's father has died."
"Oh, no," Sydney said.
"Her brother Patrick is requesting that she be granted leave to attend his funeral."
"I'm afraid that's going to be impossible, Laura," Sydney said. "You see, it would be very difficult for us to fly all the way back, when my sister Mavis is coming in tonight. Would you like to talk to Elisabeth?"
"I'm sure Rowan would appreciate knowing." There was a protracted silence.
"All right, I'll go find her." Sydney took the phone away from her mouth. "David, hand me the portable." Vaughn handed her the phone, and she switched it on. "Hello, Laura? All right, I'm going to get Elisabeth."
Rowan was sitting on the deck with Reggie and Kara. "Elisabeth, dear, there's a phone call for you. Will you come inside?"
Rowan nodded and found her way inside to where Sydney was standing. Sydney bit her lip, leaned down to Rowan, and whispered, "Your father died. Agent Donegal is going to tell you about it. We can get you out of here if you want to leave, but you know as much as I do that to start a mission means to finish it."
The girl's blank eyes went wide. She appeared frozen. Sydney gently placed the cordless phone in her hand. For a moment, Rowan said nothing, apparently listening to Agent Donegal. Sydney got a glass of water from the kitchen and wandered into the living room, where Vaughn was watching CNN. "What time is Mavis coming?" He frowned at the ridiculous name Sydney had quickly thought up for her sister.
"Her flight gets in at eight-twenty, at Fort Walton Beach," Sydney answered. "After that, I thought we'd meet up with Robert for a late supper and then some sightseeing."
Vaughn nodded. "Any news from your dad? Or mom?"
"No. None. I talked to Mavis this morning, and she mentioned she had talked to my father."
They sat in silence for awhile, each one enjoying the other's silence. Rowan came in a few minutes later, softly. "Mom? Dad?" she asked. "I just want you to know that I'm staying here."
Sydney hugged the girl tightly, and for the first time, Rowan's harsh, sculpted exterior crumbled, and she cried.

Later that night, the three of them headed for the Fort Walton Beach airport, spy gear in the back of their SUV. All three were dressed as though they were going out for dinner. Vaughn sported knee-length navy blue shorts, a yellow polo, and Marshall's sunglasses carefully tucked into his collar. Sydney wore a lime-green wrap skirt and matching lime green stiletto heels, as well as a white pleated blouse and Marshall's necklace. Rowan wore one of her characteristically dismal outfits – a denim skirt and dark raspberry shirt. It seemed to Sydney that Agent Donegal selected everything her "children agents" wore.
"Marshall, can you hear me?" she asked, pressing her earpiece into her ear. To a bystander, it would appear that Sydney, Vaughn, and Rowan merely wore small hearing aids – if they noticed at all. There were two similar set-ups, one each for Robert Red and Nadia.
"Right-o," Marshall's voice said, coming loud and clear through the earpiece.
Vaughn winced. "That's loud. What is that in the background, Marshall?"
There was a pause, then a crash. Rowan flinched at the sudden noise. "Were you listening to Avril Lavigne?" Sydney asked.
"N... no. It was... uh... nothing. Anyway, you're going into the Kapnick Bayside Warehouse. It may not sound like much to you, but it's got the highest level of security I've ever seen on a warehouse. Supposedly it houses boats until they're ready to be sold. But I think we all know there's more to it than that."
"Tell us about the security," Vaughn requested.
"Right-o, Agent Vaughn. There's two guards at the south entrance, which looks like the easiest entrance."
"Why?"
"Because the other ones have retinal scanners, fingerprint scanners, large dogs, or some sort of needle rigged to the doorway. Besides, this one's a garage-door-sized entrance. You should have no trouble."
"Why don't we just drive in?"
"It's not that easy. The key you need to get into the safe will be with one of the guards."
"Which one?"
"It varies by day. And there are five guards. They rotate shifts. The key is attached to any one of them. It's a flat piece of metal with four dents hammered into it. The dents match up with pegs in the lock. You'll know it when you get it... but all of the guards wear keys – decoy keys, if you will. Sort of like decoy ducks, for hunting. Oh, and uh, by the way, Robert Red has the code to get into the warehouse, after you take care of the guards."
"And what happens once we bypass the guards?"
"You'll be in a foyer... the foyer of the warehouse. All the inner door needs is a twist of the doorknob. And then, Agent Vaughn, is where your glasses come in handy. They'll search out the safe where the Rambaldi box is being held. The Cyclone will be nearby. Make sure none of you handle the disk – it's copper plated with what appears to be uranium. Also... make sure none of you say anything, because the alarms are triggered by sound."
Rowan was busily trying to adjust her earpiece. "This is loud."
"Okay. And once you get to the safe room... Sydney has to open it with the key you got from the guards. Then you'll have to do the combination lock, open the door, and get out the disk. It only weighs a hundred pounds or so."
"I hope you've been doing some weightlifting," Sydney muttered.
"I think that's all you need to know," Marshall finished. "Then the hardest part will be getting all of you out."
Sydney was mentally counting – herself, Vaughn, Nadia, Rowan, and The Cyclone – five people to get out. Four to get in. And somehow they all had to be silent, because any sound would trigger the alarms Marshall had mentioned. And then there was the none-too-small matter of Rowan's energy sapping, which loomed like an elephant in the SUV. "This is going to be hard."
Vaughn nodded. "Marshall, uplink the schematics for the warehouse into Sydney's laptop."
"All-righty, Agent Vaughn. Just a minute." Marshall's voice disappeared from the earpiece, and the music in the background started again. "Okay, I just sent it to you, Sydney."
Sydney already had her laptop open and was studying the schematics. "Great. Thanks, Marshall." She was comparing his map to the one her mother had sent her.
Vaughn pulled the SUV into the Fort Walton Beach airport just as someone said, "Hey, Vaughn."

"Weiss?" Vaughn asked.
"That's right. Jack and I are sitting in to watch you guys on this one."

"Hello, Sydney," Jack Bristow's voice said.
"Hi, Dad." Sydney shut her laptop. "All right, guys, we're here at the airport."
The three of them trooped in, waiting for Nadia to disembark from the plane. They were practically the only people in the airport. The only others there were sitting in chairs, waiting for the next flight, which was a 9:30 connection to Tokyo. Sydney checked her watch, which had a lime green band to match her skirt. Shades of Agent Donegal, she thought. "Excuse me," Sydney said to the only woman standing behind the ticket desk, "is this where the 8:30 connection from Atlanta is arriving?"
"Yes, ma'am," the attendant answered. "You meetin' someone?"
"My sister, Mavis."
"Well, the plane's just touched down," the woman replied. "They should be here in ten minutes or so."
The three of them sat down to wait. Within ten minutes, people started streaming out of the "Arrivals" door. A few businessmen toting rolling suitcases. A young mother with a sleeping baby in a Snugli. Two older women with blue hair and wooden-handled pocketbooks. And then, finally, Nadia. "Mavis!" Sydney cried. "Over here!"

Nadia smiled as she recognized Sydney and Vaughn. "Hello." She had obviously read the information packet, because her next sentence was, "David, you're looking handsome. Florida agrees with you."
Vaughn grinned. "It certainly is. Elisabeth's loving it, too."

"We're meeting Uncle Robert at Giuseppi's Wharf for dinner, and then we're going to take you around the town."
On the way to the restaurant, Sydney briefed Nadia on the mission. When they reached the restaurant, Robert Red was standing in front of the door, which had a life buoy and fishing net tacked to it. He was casually dressed, in dark pants and a gray sweater. "You ready?" he asked.
"Yes, we're ready. Our gear's in the truck." Vaughn gestured to their vehicle. "We'll change on the way."
Robert Red drove. Everyone else quickly changed their clothes and got the equipment ready for the evening. Vaughn put on his sunglasses after he changed into his black pants, black shirt, equipment vest, and boots. Sydney did the same with her necklace and bound her hair back into a quick ponytail. She had dressed according to her alias, wearing her "spy clothes" underneath. Rowan folded up her cane. "You don't need that?"
"Nope."
"There won't be any sound. The guards have to be silent because of the alarms."
"I don't need sound. I can feel them. They give off a certain energy. Everyone does."
"I is hoping you know which is the 'bad' and which is the 'good,'" Robert Red commented.
Nadia smiled. "For you, Robert, I would go blind into this warehouse."
"Ah, Nadia. You are such a tease." But Robert Red was smiling.
Sydney's cell phone rang then. "Hello?"
"Hello, this is Mick Dervegaard. May I please speak with Sydney Bristow?"
"This is she. Who did you say you were?"
"Rowan Dervegaard's father," the man answered angrily.
"But... but..."
"Agent Donegal told you I was dead, didn't she?" Mick Dervegaard demanded.
"Yes."
"And you believed her?"
"Of course. We didn't have reason not to."

"Son of a... that woman is evil. Is Rowan all right?"
"She's fine," Sydney answered, confused. "But why would..."
"Agent Donegal has her own agenda. All I have to say to you is this – if she sent you on this mission, I'm not sure how effective it's going to be. Watch your step." He then requested to talk to Rowan, which Sydney understood, passing the phone back to the blind girl. When she hung up, she appeared angry, but said nothing to anyone.
They arrived at the warehouse a little past nine. Vaughn parked in the long-term parking lot next to a silver Astro-Van. The perimeter of the warehouse seemed quiet and empty. "Okay, ready? Sydney... go."
Sydney set off for the door of the warehouse. She'd mentally rehearsed what she would say to the guards. "Hello," she said as she reached them, fluffing her short brunette wig and strutting a little in her heels. Doing good. "I'm Mallory Phillips, I'm here to see Mr. Laney." She and Vaughn had picked the name off the list of the board of directors Marshall had sent them.
The first guard looked to the second. "This late?"
Sydney shrugged apologetically. "He mentioned it would be a little late. I just flew in from Maine."

"We'll have to radio upstairs," the second guard said. Both guards were chunky and had squarish faces. They wore dark clothes. Sydney could see that both had guns on their hips.
"I'm sure it won't take long," she said, which was an encoded message to Vaughn meaning Both have guns.
"No, ma'am," the first guard replied, smiling at her.
The two of them turned to their radios and began to speak earnestly to someone upstairs. Sydney reached into her pocket, pulling out the can of blinding sleep spray. As the guards turned to talk to her, she sprayed it in their eyes. Once she was sure both were down for the count, she stripped off her wig and external clothes, dumping them in a pile in some bushes. "All right, go!" she said, hoping they all could hear her.
"Find the key," Vaughn's voice said in her ear, reassuring as always.
She knelt down to the guards and began to pick through their clothing and pockets. Both guards wore keys, which were small, flat pieces of metal, approximately one inch by four inches. "Marshall, which key is it?" Sydney asked, panicking.
"Hold the keys up to your necklace," Marshall suggested.
Sydney did as he asked, and a moment later, he said, "It's the second key you held up. See the pattern of numbers in the corner? They correspond to the room you need. Now, as soon as Vaughn gets here, he'll be able to tell you where you're going."
Vaughn, Robert Red, Rowan, and Nadia appeared a few minutes later. "You got it?" Vaughn asked.
Sydney nodded. "This one." She held it up.
"Let's go," Robert Red said. He turned to the control box at the warehouse's garage-door-sized entrance, and vigorously punched in the code which would open it. A few seconds later, the door creaked open, and the agents found themselves staring into the foyer of the warehouse. Vaughn stepped forward and opened the door.
In their ear, Weiss said, "Don't worry. The sound-triggered alarms don't start until you find the safe room."
"Worry? Us?" Robert Red said, smiling.
There were boats, that was the first thing Sydney realized. There were about fifty boats, lined up in some sort of order. They all had named painted on them in shiny gold paint – The Minnow, Sarah's, Paradise Lost – and were all spanking new and shiny bright. "Now what?" Vaughn murmured.
"The safe," Sydney said. "Put on your glasses."
He did so, and within a few minutes, he was directing them down a passageway towards the safe. "It's just around this corner."
"Shh!" Marshall hissed in their ears.
"Guys, going radio silent," Weiss intoned. "Sound-triggered alarms start as soon as you get through that door."
"Be careful," Jack Bristow said, loud and clear.
"There are two guards coming your way," Weiss continued, obviously not remaining radio silent. "From down the hallway."
"Now radio silent," Jack Bristow interrupted.
Sydney darted into the corridor and picked up something which could work as a weapon – a net scoop attached to a metal pole. It was sitting on the dock of Magician's Luck, a boat nearest to the safe room. Carefully, she knelt near the door of the safe room, watching Vaughn, Nadia, Robert Red, and Rowan, who were crouched underneath a stairwell.
As the first guard approached, Sydney swung the metal pole for all she was worth, knocking the man off balance. He fell into the second man, and both were soon under control with a quick hit of knock-out spray. Vaughn turned to Sydney and held up his hands, as if to ask What now? Sydney shrugged and pointed towards the safe room, then touched her face where glasses would be, then made a spiral motion in front of her, as if to say, The Cyclone.
Robert Red had caught their improvised sign language conversation and pointed to himself and Nadia, then repeated Sydney's sign for The Cyclone. Sydney nodded and handed Robert Red the rectangular key. He soon opened the door, and the two of them set off towards the far corner of the safe room, Robert Red studying a sheet of cream-colored paper he was carrying. Sydney touched Rowan's shoulder to get her attention, and whispered as quietly as she could – for they were not yet in the safe room – "We're going in now. Help us get The Cyclone, okay?"
"Two guards, guys," Weiss's voice repeated.
"Damn," Vaughn said quietly, his lips barely moving. He took the pole from Sydney, handed it to Rowan, and said, "Take care of them."
"The disk," Sydney reminded him, and the two of them set off, silently, into the safe room.
Once their eyes adjusted to the dark, they could clearly see Robert Red and Nadia working to undo a few locks, which were attached to... a cage? Sydney was confused, but realized that was exactly what it was – a cage. They're holding a little girl in a cage, she thought in rage. Vaughn touched her shoulder silently, and pointed to the corner, where there was a large safe. He twisted his hands, miming the action of undoing a combination lock. Sydney nodded, and leaned towards the safe. Mutely, she began to twist the combination lock, listening for each click and tick of the tumblers inside. The tumblers moved without a sound, and she found herself frustrated. There has to be some way to do this.
From the other side of the room, there was a feeling of release. Sydney turned to see that Robert Red and Nadia were pulling a small girl from the cage. The girl was no older than ten or eleven, and she was dressed in an absolutely filthy dress, which had once been possibly blue or green, but was now black with the layers of dirt on it. Nadia nodded, as though to say, This is her. This is Zhenya, The Cyclone.
Sydney pointed to the door. Before Nadia or Robert Red could move, they heard from in the passageway the unmistakable sound of a fight. Vaughn tapped Sydney on the shoulder and pointed again at the safe. She nodded and began to twirl the tumblers again. How did they teach us to do it at SD-6? she thought, remembering her safe-cracking, lock-picking, and bomb-defusing training. Ah. Right. The rhythm. Elise Acheron, the teacher of those important lessons, had always stressed that even silent safes, which were considered to be the most difficult to crack in the world, had a rhythm. Anyone with a good ear could crack them. Sydney, as usual, had been top in her class.
Ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-ta-ta, the tumblers sang. The final beat was the first number of the combination. Sydney paused, looked at the dial, and quickly remembered the number – "15." Ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-dum-dum- dum... ta-ta-ta. The second number was 45. One more. Unless it's a five- number job, which in that case, we're... But Sydney didn't allow herself to think any further on that train of though. Ta-dum. Ta-dum. Ta-dum. Like heartbeats, the tumblers twirled and fell into their respective places, but none seemed the right one to Sydney. She twisted the dial slowly, listening, listening. Ta-dum, ta-dum, ta-ta-ta. There. 08.
She did the combination – 15-45-08 – and the safe snapped open silently. Beside her, Vaughn breathed a sigh of relief. Sydney noticed that some time ago, while she'd been cracking the safe, Vaughn had donned heavy gloves – rubber, coated with a high-density latex. But they needn't have worried, because the disk was in a box, wrapped in brown paper, and tied with twine. He reached in, grabbed the disk, and the two of them hightailed it back to the hallway.
Rowan was on the floor, which Sydney had expected. Nadia stood to one side, cradling The Cyclone – Zhenya, Sydney forced herself to think – in her arms. Robert Red was wielding the pole, and had already managed to get one of the guards on the floor. The other was proving a bit more difficult. Sydney hurried down the hallway, grabbed a second net scoop pole off Magician's Luck, and said, "We're not radio silent anymore, guys."
"Did you get the disk?" Weiss asked.
Sydney took aim with the pole and smacked the second guard securely in the knees just as Robert Red delivered a whack to the kidneys. "Yeah, we've got it. We'll be pulling out of here in a minute." To Robert, she said, "Grab Rowan!"
The Russian looked confused, but then he turned, scooped up the limp girl, and took off for the door. Nadia followed, carrying Zhenya. Vaughn brought up the end of the odd parade, carrying the heavy disk in its wrapping. Sydney gave the guard another good whack as he aimed for her knees, stepped out of the way, and ran after her partners.

"Rowan. Hey," Vaughn was saying as Sydney approached the SUV. Robert Red was in the driver's seat, impatiently gunning the engine. Nadia and Zhenya were in the back seat. Nadia spoke Russian to the girl, who appeared to be in shock.
"Is she all right?"
Vaughn shook his head. Sydney slammed her door and gave Robert the go-ahead to leave the warehouse. He peeled out of the parking lot. "Rowan," Vaughn repeated.
"Sydney, what's going on?" Jack asked in her ear. She had forgotten that he, Weiss, and Marshall were there.
"It's Rowan. Get Agent Donegal on the phone."
Marshall interrupted before Jack could say anything else. "Uh... uh... Sydney! I have something to tell you!"
"What?"
"Well, you know, Director Dixon called over there this morning to apprise Agent Donegal of how well the mission was going – he thought she'd want to know, because she's like a bear... grr..."
"Marshall!"
"I know, sorry! Sorry. But the man who answered the phone – Agent Reynolds – says... guess what?"
"Marshall!" Vaughn barked.
"Agent Donegal does not exist."
"What?" Sydney asked, all of the air suddenly taken out of her.
"There is no record of any Agent Donegal working there at all. And when Agent Reynolds went to dig up the records Director Dixon asked for – specifically on Rowan – he said that the last place Rowan was known to be was a drug-testing facility outside of Campo Cabassa. That's here, about a hundred miles from us."
"A drug-testing facility?"
Weiss's voice took over. "Right. Her parents are Mick and Juliana Dervegaard, and they've been looking for their daughter ever since she was kidnapped when she was five."
"Kidnapped? You mean there is no Teenage Agents program?"
"No," Weiss answered. "Mick and Juliana have another child, a son, Patrick. Apparently he was contacted by Agent Donegal and told that if he ever wanted to see his sister again, he would have to cooperate. He never told his parents."

"God," Sydney murmured.
Vaughn had removed Rowan's sunglasses. "Syd, look at her eyes," he said.
Sydney leaned over. Rowan's eyes were not the typical eyes of a blind person. The irises were clear, but the sclera was pitch black. "What did they do to her?" she whispered.
Vaughn shrugged. "I don't know, but God, it was awful."

When they were twenty minutes away from Fort Walton Beach, Nadia leaned forward and said, "The girl... she does not remember any of it. Agent Bristow mentioned that I should get on a plane with her as soon as we recovered her and bring her back to Los Angeles."
Sydney nodded. "That's a good idea."
"He has already arranged for the tickets at the desk," Nadia continued. "She will be taken back to Director Dixon for testing."
"And her parents?" Robert Red asked, adding something in Russian.
"Da, her parents... Alexei and Darya."
"They are still alive?"
"Da."
Sydney called Free Fall on the Sea. Emma answered. "Hey! Where are you guys?"
"We're just having so much fun showing Mavis around town, we won't be home for a little while longer," Sydney replied.
"Sounds great! We're out watching fireworks on the ocean. Reggie's asleep on Molly's lap, though."
Sydney smiled. "We'll be home in a bit."
"All right."
They drove to the Fort Walton Beach airport. Robert Red went inside to take care of Nadia and Zhenya's arrangements. Vaughn and Sydney stayed in the SUV with Rowan, who had still not moved. Sydney ran her fingers gently around the girl's eyes, trying to see if she could activate the pain reflex. But Rowan was motionless and limp, like a melting wax statue. "What do we do?" Sydney whispered to Vaughn.
"Wait, I guess," he answered, staring out the window to the tarmac, where another connection to Tokyo was taking off.
They waited until Robert Red returned from the terminal. "To Destin, da?"
"In a moment, Robert," Sydney answered, suddenly gripped with an idea. She dug through her bag until she located her laptop, and then slammed the Runaround disk into it. Hurriedly she went through the connection preliminaries, and opened a window. Mom. Mom, I need you. Sydney, what is it? Tell me how to help Rowan. Robert Red says you know her. Only by reputation. What's wrong? She's gone into an energy-sapping coma, and she won't wake up. You need a drug. One of the agents here has the same condition. What drug? Sydney typed hurriedly, trying to will her mother to type faster. I don't know. Damn. There's got to be another way, though. What about cold water? The beach! Thanks, Mom! I love you, Sydney.
With that, Irina was gone. "Drive to the beach, Robert Red. It doesn't matter where it is, just get us there – fast."

Robert Red drove like a maniac, cursing and swearing in Russian as the radio blared Debussy at top volume. Soon they were heading through the bright lights and glittery facades of Sandestin. They drove past Ocean Princess Hotel, which resembled a home from The Jetsons, and Big Kahuna's Amusements, which resembled a tiki paradise, complete with miniature golf. They passed signs hawking such things as "Free Henna Tattoos," "Hermit Crabs With Every Purchase," and "99-Cent Towels." Robert Red did not stop, nor did he slow down.
Vaughn was looking worried and kept digging through the SUV's provided first aid kit, as though the Band-Aids, gauze, Hand-ee Wipes, and complimentary Pepto-Bismol tablets in foil wrappers could somehow help this girl who seemed to be dying before their eyes. What they really needed, Sydney thought, was adrenaline, the kind she'd injected into Vaughn. But they were in an SUV in Florida, not a medical hospital. And she doubted that anyone at a hospital could help Rowan, anyway.
They passed the guard station at the state park, and Robert Red drove them down a winding road into the sand dunes, which bordered the ocean. Vaughn didn't wait until the car was stopped, but scooped up Rowan and took off for the beach at a run. Sydney followed along behind, her cumbersome "spy boots" dragging in the white sand. Robert Red took only enough time to throw the car into park before running after them.
Agent Donegal's camcorder tape had never shown Rowan coming out of the energy-sapped state. The girl herself had mentioned something about a sensory deprivation tank, that she had been able to stay in there – and stay sane – for... how long? Sydney's thoughts were racing faster than the Kentucky Derby.
Vaughn was already at the water's edge. He had somehow managed to strip off his socks and boots, and was gingerly laying Rowan in the water. Sydney and Robert Red said nothing; there was somehow nothing to say.
The water seemed to be working, for Rowan's eyes were flickering and she seemed to wince against the darkness, which obviously hurt her as much as broad daylight would have. "Mom?" she asked.
"It's all right, Rowan," Sydney said. "You'll be going home to them soon."
And there, in the sand and the water, the four of them realized they had been living a lie, a lie which had been bared open like a wound. Festering and sucking, it had eaten all of them. Thankfully, they could now be on their way to healing.

They left the next morning. Sydney called The Dunes Motel; Robert Red was long gone. She would not hear from him again, except in an email he had obviously sent that morning. They made the necessary excuses to Molly, Emma, and their kids, telling them about the heart attack Sydney's father had suddenly suffered. They exchanged addresses with Mary-Lou and Angus.
Then they were on a flight, a flight from Fort Walton Beach to Atlanta. From Atlanta they would fly to Seattle, where Rowan's parents would meet them. Jack Bristow had already called the airport to set up their ticket arrangements, and to speak with Rowan's parents.
They arrived in Seattle at noon. "What do they look like?" Rowan kept asking every five minutes, until Sydney reminded her that none of them had ever seen Mick and Juliana Dervegaard.
At Gate 43, where they departed, there was no one to greet the arrivals. Because of heightened security features, no one could come to the gates to meet their loved ones. This meant a hike to the terminal's entrance for the three, but Sydney knew that she and Vaughn did not mind. They headed for the terminal's entrance, and arrived there at twelve- thirty. Sydney checked her watch. This time, the band did not match her skirt; it was a simple black woven band.
"There," Vaughn said suddenly.
Sydney looked to where he was pointing. The couple he had spotted certainly did look like Rowan, as did the boy standing next to them. The man was tall, with light brown hair, wearing dark jeans and an Apple T- shirt. His son – for it was obviously Patrick who stood next to him – had blond curls and a tanned face. He sported cut-off jeans and a Grateful Dead T-shirt. The woman had Rowan's reddish-brown hair and Rowan's eyes. She wore an ankle-length khaki skirt and a pink-and-blue striped shirt. "Sydney Bristow?" the woman asked.
Sydney nodded. "I'm Sydney Bristow, and this is my partner, Michael Vaughn."
The woman's eyes were filling with tears. "I'm Juliana Dervegaard, and this is Mick."
"And Patrick," the man added.
"And Patrick," Juliana repeated.
"Rowan," Sydney said softly, "these are your parents. Your father, Mick, your mother, Juliana, and your brother, Patrick."
Rowan said nothing for a few seconds. Then she took off her dark glasses, wincing painfully at the light, and turned to face her family. To their credit, her family was not much moved by her eyes. Sydney realized they had probably been briefed by Jack Bristow or Dixon.
Sydney smiled and pressed a card into Juliana Dervegaard's hand. Then, she and Vaughn headed back through the maze of security, and back to their own security, and Los Angeles.

They arrived back at the Rotunda that evening. Jack Bristow had left messages for both of them to report to work. Exhausted as they were, both complied and reached the offices at eight o'clock.
Marshall came out of his "cave" to join them, his I-Pod securely hooked to his belt. "Hey! Hey! I got the new Avril Lavigne CD!" was his greeting.
Dixon smiled his welcome, and invited both of them, plus Weiss, Jack, and Marshall, into his office. "Congratulations on your work. The disk you recovered has been sent to analysis."
"How is Zhenya?" Sydney asked.
The men looked confused.
"The Cyclone."
"Ah. She is being questioned by Professor Altman," Dixon replied. "Once he has finished his questioning, she will be sent back to her parents, Alexei and Darya Mazzarov, in Moscow."
"Good."
Jack said, "What about Rowan?"
"The Dervegaards are taking her back to Canada. Hopefully they'll start being a family again," Vaughn answered.
"As it should be," Dixon answered. "Well, that's all I have for now. Turn in your op-tech to Marshall and you can call it a night."
The two agents did so. Marshall barely looked up from his work – and his beloved Avril (whose new CD, Under My Skin, was obviously a big hit with him) – to thank them, but he managed to smile at Sydney as she left.

That night, back at her lonely apartment, Sydney microwaved some tortellini and Ragu, then cracked open a can of Cherry Coke. Then, her physical needs attended to, she dug out her laptop and threw in the Runaround disk. She wasn't expecting any windows to pop up, but soon enough, one did. Sydney. Mom? Your father told me about the mission you just completed. That must have been horrible. It just makes me wonder, sometimes, about why we all exist. Rowan's parents couldn't save her from Agent Donegal... or whatever her name was... who hurt their daughter beyond all belief. Why do we have children? For the same reason we all carry on and do what we have to. Because we have to? That's as good a reason as any, I suppose. Nothing really makes sense, does it? Yeah. Mom? What? Where are you? I can't tell you that. Just know... I am always here, whenever you need me. Is that good enough?
It had to be, for just then, there was a knock at the door. Sydney disconnected and went to the door. It was Vaughn. "Hey," he said.
"Hey," she answered, a little confused. "Did we have plans?"
"No." He held out a bouquet of flowers. For the first time, she noticed that it was raining.
"Oh."
"Syd..." he said, a little lost, searching for the right words, "do you love me?"
She nodded, suddenly unable to say much else. And for the moment, it was good enough.