Post "The Telling"
I don't own anything but my own thoughts. ----
"You've been missing for almost two years." He can't even look me in the eye.
The sentence hits me like a ton of bricks. How is it possible that it has been two years since that night? That horrible night is the last thing I remember aside from the past 24 hours that I have been sitting here in this godforsaken safe house.
"Vaughn?" My voice squeaks out, I'm unsure what I am supposed to say at this point - many choice words come to mind but I don't think they will help the situation - so, I say the first thing that comes to mind, "You're married." It comes out as a statement rather than a question.
Vaughn breathes in through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly and I know he is sorting his thoughts and choosing his words carefully, he used to do this whenever I asked questions about his family or when he was explaining a counter mission he was particularly worried about. He finally looks back up at me, "Syd."
"Yes or no, Michael," he winces when I use his first name, "It's an easy question."
"But there's not an easy answer, Syd, there never was with us." It's my turn to grimace when he uses past tense in terms of our relationship and Vaughn's eyes soften, the familiar lines deepening across his forehead. "Yes, I'm married."
"How long?"
"Syd, I don't think we should talk about this right now," the dreaded ringed finger reappears as Vaughn lifts his hand to his temple.
"Fine, but at least tell me what her name is."
"Melanie."
Melanie. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face stoic. I meet Vaughn's eyes with a steady gaze, one I hope is void of any emotion. "So, what now?"
"I am supposed to bring you back. Syd, given the fact that you have been missing for the past 23 months, you'll go into Federal custody once we land. After they have examined you and run their necessary battery of tests, I'm sure you will be released."
"What then," my reality outside of my relationship with Vaughn returns to the forefront of my mind. Until Vaughn entered the room my only thoughts had been about Francie and Will - wondering if they were dead, what had happened to the real Francie, who it was that I was actually fighting in the apartment - Vaughn was not one of my worries. "What am I supposed to do after that? Will is alive but my last memories are of him, bloody and lifeless in a bathtub, a scene I have seen two times too many in my lifetime. I don't know about Francie because you avoided answering my question about her. I'm curious as to why my father isn't here instead of you. And what about my mother?"
I pause, holding my hand up to silence Vaughn who has opened his mouth to talk. I rise to my feet and start pacing to the door and back. "Now you tell me that I am going into custody, like a criminal, not like the agent of the government that I am. The last thing I remember was crashing into the mirror in my bedroom, watching the woman I thought was my best friend fall to ground, taken down by bullets from the gun in my hands. And to top it all off, the man I love, who I was planning on going to Santa Barbara with this weekend, that man is married. Oh yes, and I don't remember the past two years of my life! What in the hell am I supposed to do, Vaughn?"
Somewhere in the middle of my tirade I have started crying, betraying the anger in my voice. I wipe my sleeve across my face, but am unable to stop new tears from soaking the skin.
Vaughn gets up from his chair and reaches out to stop my pacing, "I don't know, Sydney. I wish I could tell you, that I could figure it all out for you. But I can't, right now I just have to get you on a plane and back to the United States, we'll have to figure it out from there."
"We, Vaughn?" I look down to the hand still gripping my arm, "You said that they had asked you to come back and explain to me. At this point I would assume that to mean that they asked you to come back to the CIA and if that's true, then you certainly aren't my handler anymore. And despite how I feel about you, you aren't my boyfriend. So tell me how, 'we' are going to figure this out."
As I speak the words I can feel his grip tightening around my arm, he is getting angry. I almost welcome any outburst that might follow, at least then I will know he's not indifferent to the situation. I look up at his face and am surprised to see tears sliding down his cheeks. A small sob escapes my own lips as his free hand reaches up and caresses my face. I lean into his hand, shutting my eyes, reveling in his touch.
His arms slide down, hands reaching to pull my body into his chest. I instinctively tuck my head into his neck and wrap my arms around his torso. We stand like that for who knows how long, both crying uncontrollably until the tears are spent. His right hand follows a calming path up and down my back while his left is firmly curved around my neck, holding my head in place. I feel him inhale deeply, chest rising against mine, his heart beats in rhythm with my own.
"I thought you were dead," the words are barely audible and possibly unspoken but I hear them none-the-less. Vaughn continues, his voice gaining strength, "There was so much blood and you weren't there. A few months later a body, with DNA matching yours, turned up in a hotel room in Vienna. The body was burned beyond visual recognition but Sloane had been sighted in the area the previous week so the CIA concluded he had used you to whatever end he had intended and then disposed of you."
Vaughn stops, pulling me away from him, locking his eyes with mine, "Syd, you have to believe that I knew better than to believe any evidence of your death, especially if it was linked to Sloane. I kept searching, looking for any reason to believe that you were alive, that you were coming back, but there was never anything. We had regular intel coming in regarding Sloane and his location but there was never anything about you or anyone resembling you. The CIA closed the file three months ago - I think they only kept it open that long out of respect for your father. I have done what I could but I was expected to continue on with my job and my work, despite what had happened, despite our relationship. Do you understand that there was no hope? iNothing/i turned up in the past two years to make me think that you were alive until your phone call to Kendall yesterday."
A few more tears managed to squeeze themselves from my eyes as I looked back at Vaughn. "I understand." I shrug, not knowing what more I can say at this point.
Vaughn's hands come up to frame my face as he leans in, lips hovering in front of mine. I left up hands to cover his, the inside of my knuckle knocking against the hard metal band on his left hand, causing my head to jerk back, away from Vaughn. How soon we forget what we don't want to know.
"How long, Vaughn?"
Vaughn's hands fall back to his sides, bringing mine down as well. "Almost three months."
Before I can ask more questions, Vaughn is at the door, calling down the hall in Chinese, "She's ready."
After a few seconds, the man who showed me to my room and brought me a couple meals is bringing in another stack of clothing with a passport resting on top. He is in and out without a word, leaving Vaughn and I alone again.
"I'll let you change, our flight leaves in an hour. Your alias is Natasha Hamilton, you are my sister and we have just been to China to visit our parents who are missionaries. There will be six other plain-clothed agents on the plane with us, two each behind, in front and beside us. We'll land in Los Angeles close to midnight and will be escorted out a back entrance and into a van that will take you to the Joint Task Force center and into custody," Vaughn avoids looking at me for more than a second, his eyes circled the room, stopping on the window above the bed.
"I won't try and escape," I reply to his unformed question. "I've got no where to run." And nothing to run to.
Vaughn says nothing more as he opens the door and leaves me alone in the room to change. It seems silly that I have to be alone to change my clothes; a memory of him kissing up and down my uncovered body is still vivid in my mind.
My reflection in the mirror across the room catches my eye and seeing myself with this new knowledge brings on a rush of nausea. Thankfully I haven't eaten much and I simply end up dry-heaving over the toilet. I change quickly and pick up my passport before going out into the hallway to an unsmiling Vaughn and whatever it is that lays ahead.
* * *
Onboard the plane I start feeling even more uncomfortable, knowing six other agents are in close proximity to make sure I make it to LA - not for my own safety but for the safety of my country - I am a threat. I find it odd that we aren't on a private flight but then the whole situation is a little different to put it mildly so I will just go with it.
Usually I can sleep without any trouble when I am on a plane, sometimes flights are the only time I am able to catch up on my sleep. But now I am wide awake, though I do lean against the side of the plane, eyes closed, pretending to sleep so I don't continue staring at Vaughn, willing him to look in my direction. After an hour I feel Vaughn's arm relax on the armrest and I peek through a crack in my eyelids to see that he has fallen asleep. I open my eyes and sit back in my chair, sighing as I stare at the call button above my head.
In my head I replay every moment that has happened since Vaughn came into to my room in Hong Kong. A sarcastic laugh passes my lips as I recall a point when I was fighting 'Francie' and the thought that things couldn't get any worse passed through my mind. I never would have thought that Sloane could have taken my life from me without killing me. But here I am, two years lost, no doubt because of Arvin Sloane.
Next to me Vaughn's breathing has gotten heavier, 'poor guy,' I can't help but think. He didn't ask for any of this, it's simply par for the course when it comes to my life and it's my fault he got dragged into it. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, willing his head to fall onto my shoulder, longing for physical contact, conscious or not. I lean over, turning my head, hoping to get a whiff of his aftershave or shampoo, both familiar smells. Neither scent greets my nose but instead there is the smell of my own shampoo. Rosemary and mint. Vaughn had commented more than once about how much money was I sudsing into my hair and washing down the drain. He is using my shampoo? Or, maybe he is using his wife's shampoo - I banish that thought from my mind.
I must have finally drifted off because I just heard the head flight attendant announce that we are just about to land. Vaughn isn't seated next to me and I feel the panic rising in my stomach, thinking that I am going to have to do this by myself. I'm halfway out of my seat, an alarmed look on my face, eyes searching the plane. The agents seated behind me avoid my eyes but then I see him, coming out of the bathroom at the back of the plane. I quickly turn to right myself in my seat but not before Vaughn has seen me.
"Hey, don't worry, Syd," Vaughn murmurs as he takes his place next to me. "You are not alone."
"Funny, it sure feels like I am," I can't help the sarcasm that has found its way into my voice.
Vaughn sighs and shakes his head, "I guess I can't tell you how to feel but please trust that I will not leave you, I am your ally, I'm on your side."
His words echo through my mind as we make it through landing and get off the plane without exchanging another word. Vaughn's hand is wrapped lightly around my arm, guiding me into a corridor off from the main concourse. At the end of the hall is a door, leading us to a windowless room where we are met by four uniformed agents.
One of the four steps forward, he reminds me of a guy I dated in high school, Kevin Maxfield. Kevin was tall and broad shouldered with black hair, but this guy is blond and his badge says his name is Bryce Armstrong. "Sydney Bristow?"
"Yes," one-word answers are always best.
"Sydney Bristow, you are under arrest pending the investigation of possible treasonous activity on your part against the United States," Agent Armstrong starts reading me my rights as I turn my back to him, offering him my wrists.
I feel the metal of the handcuffs circle my wrists, my eyes on Vaughn, who winces as he hears my bonds click tighter. His eyes meet mine, revealing a sadness I'm sure matched in my own eyes. "Ms Bristow, do you understand your rights," our silent exchange is interrupted.
"Yes."
"Thank you, Agent Vaughn, for bringing her in," another agent's voice booms from behind me. The words flush my cheeks, causing me to feel humiliated for something I have had no control over.
Vaughn's eyes flicker over mine before he responds, "Not a problem, Agent Jenkins. Are we ready to go?"
"Yes, sir. The van is waiting right outside this door." Sir?
I feel a strong hand take hold of my arm and spin me around to face a door I hadn't noticed when we walked in the room. Two agents go ahead of us and then I am led through the door, with Vaughn and the fourth agent bringing up the rear. A van truly is waiting a few feet away from the door, in between planes with the airport terminals looming above us. I surprised they didn't simple pull right up to the plane and load me directly into the van.
The ride to the ops center is uneventful; Vaughn has to ride in front with the deep voiced Jenkins while I am in back with Armstrong and the other two agents who have yet to speak. Despite all of my training I am having a hard time keeping myself from bursting into tears, there is just no way to prepare for this situation in your life.
The van slows to a stop and the door slides open revealing familiar territory - the same door my mother was taken in and out of when she was transported. I am my mother's daughter after all.
Vaughn is standing before me, offering a weak smile.
"Agent Vaughn, you are to report to Director Kendall now," Jenkins calls from the driver's seat. "We can take it from here."
I nod, silently acknowledging that I am all right, knowing he feels guilty for already having to leave me. Vaughn turns and opens the door closest to the van and goes inside, while I am maneuvered out of my seat and onto my feet. Armstrong seems to have been given point on maintaining my security as he is the one who takes my arm again and leads me into the building and down the familiar hallway to the cell formerly inhabited by my mother.
* * *
The handcuffs were thankfully removed once I was inside the cell and I have been left alone for the past thirty minutes or so, though I am without a doubt being monitored closely by the four security cameras within my cell. I hear the gate at the end of the hallway shift, starting to open; I briefly wonder what my mother used to think when she heard the same noise. Footsteps are approaching, I know that walk: Vaughn.
Vaughn nods back down the hall to the agent at the other end once he is in front of my door and I hear the lock click. They are allowing him to come inside, that must be a good sign. He enters my new quarters and comes to sit next to me on the cement slab I can now call a bed.
"I've explained to Kendall how I found you in Hong Kong, that you don't remember anything of the past 23 months," Vaughn speaks clearly, knowing we are being monitored. "They are going to wait until morning to start testing you."
"How long," I ask then, noting the look of confusion on his face, clarify, "How long are they going to hold me?"
"I'm not sure, I guess it depends on what shows up on the tests. First, will be medical and physical testing and then psychological and emotional. At that point I would assume that you will have some regression therapy sessions if you haven't started remembering things but I hope they will have released you by then, at least to a safe house." Vaughn explains, "Tomorrow you will be allowed visitors, your father and Will and maybe Dixon and Marshall."
I feel a wave of emotions wash over me as Vaughn names the people closest to me, even though I feel like I just saw them, knowing it has been so long makes me instantly miss them. "So, my father is all right?"
"Yes, but he is on an assignment in Brazil and won't be back until the morning," Vaughn sighs. "Hopefully you will be able to get answers to your questions in the morning."
"One more question, what about Francie? She's dead, isn't she?"
"I'm sorry, Syd, she was gone for a long time before that night. We found her body the next day and it was determined that she had been killed a few months before, around the time that the Alliance fell," Vaughn puts his hand over mine on the bed has he talks. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," I whisper, my eyes locked on the wedding ring adorning the hand that is wrapped around mine.
I look up at Vaughn and see that he has followed my gaze down to our hands, after a second he looks up, too. I just shake my head sadly and shrug. Vaughn simply leans over and kisses my forehead as I close my eyes. There aren't words left for us to say right now, though the questions flying through my mind are endless.
Vaughn stands up and goes to the door, turning to look back at me. "Get some sleep, Syd, I'm sure you are going to need it."
"Thank you," again I am whispering, "Thank you for coming to get me. I'm sorry if I caused any problems with your."
"Don't worry about it," Vaughn stops me from continuing, "Syd, things are going to be all right, despite how they seem now. Trust me, everything is not as bad as it seems."
I lift my hand and wave as he passes by on the other side of the glass, waiting until he is out of sight to let the sob that I have been holding escape, bringing it with it a downpour of tears. His sentiment is nice and well-directed but I can't see how things aren't as bad as they seem, especially with regard to the two of us. He's married - what makes that better? Vaughn certainly isn't one to gloss things over so he surely didn't mean that I would find someone new and we would both live happily ever after in our separate lives or that what we had was unimportant and I will get over it.
I turn and curl up on the thin mattress, with my back facing the empty room and the cameras. Hopefully sleep will come before too long, I can't stand to be alone with my thoughts any longer.
---- Thanks for reading. I hope that you enjoyed it so far considering not much has happened. Things will happen in the next chapter, I promise, but I'm tired now so you will just have to wait.
I don't own anything but my own thoughts. ----
"You've been missing for almost two years." He can't even look me in the eye.
The sentence hits me like a ton of bricks. How is it possible that it has been two years since that night? That horrible night is the last thing I remember aside from the past 24 hours that I have been sitting here in this godforsaken safe house.
"Vaughn?" My voice squeaks out, I'm unsure what I am supposed to say at this point - many choice words come to mind but I don't think they will help the situation - so, I say the first thing that comes to mind, "You're married." It comes out as a statement rather than a question.
Vaughn breathes in through his nose, nostrils flaring slightly and I know he is sorting his thoughts and choosing his words carefully, he used to do this whenever I asked questions about his family or when he was explaining a counter mission he was particularly worried about. He finally looks back up at me, "Syd."
"Yes or no, Michael," he winces when I use his first name, "It's an easy question."
"But there's not an easy answer, Syd, there never was with us." It's my turn to grimace when he uses past tense in terms of our relationship and Vaughn's eyes soften, the familiar lines deepening across his forehead. "Yes, I'm married."
"How long?"
"Syd, I don't think we should talk about this right now," the dreaded ringed finger reappears as Vaughn lifts his hand to his temple.
"Fine, but at least tell me what her name is."
"Melanie."
Melanie. I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my face stoic. I meet Vaughn's eyes with a steady gaze, one I hope is void of any emotion. "So, what now?"
"I am supposed to bring you back. Syd, given the fact that you have been missing for the past 23 months, you'll go into Federal custody once we land. After they have examined you and run their necessary battery of tests, I'm sure you will be released."
"What then," my reality outside of my relationship with Vaughn returns to the forefront of my mind. Until Vaughn entered the room my only thoughts had been about Francie and Will - wondering if they were dead, what had happened to the real Francie, who it was that I was actually fighting in the apartment - Vaughn was not one of my worries. "What am I supposed to do after that? Will is alive but my last memories are of him, bloody and lifeless in a bathtub, a scene I have seen two times too many in my lifetime. I don't know about Francie because you avoided answering my question about her. I'm curious as to why my father isn't here instead of you. And what about my mother?"
I pause, holding my hand up to silence Vaughn who has opened his mouth to talk. I rise to my feet and start pacing to the door and back. "Now you tell me that I am going into custody, like a criminal, not like the agent of the government that I am. The last thing I remember was crashing into the mirror in my bedroom, watching the woman I thought was my best friend fall to ground, taken down by bullets from the gun in my hands. And to top it all off, the man I love, who I was planning on going to Santa Barbara with this weekend, that man is married. Oh yes, and I don't remember the past two years of my life! What in the hell am I supposed to do, Vaughn?"
Somewhere in the middle of my tirade I have started crying, betraying the anger in my voice. I wipe my sleeve across my face, but am unable to stop new tears from soaking the skin.
Vaughn gets up from his chair and reaches out to stop my pacing, "I don't know, Sydney. I wish I could tell you, that I could figure it all out for you. But I can't, right now I just have to get you on a plane and back to the United States, we'll have to figure it out from there."
"We, Vaughn?" I look down to the hand still gripping my arm, "You said that they had asked you to come back and explain to me. At this point I would assume that to mean that they asked you to come back to the CIA and if that's true, then you certainly aren't my handler anymore. And despite how I feel about you, you aren't my boyfriend. So tell me how, 'we' are going to figure this out."
As I speak the words I can feel his grip tightening around my arm, he is getting angry. I almost welcome any outburst that might follow, at least then I will know he's not indifferent to the situation. I look up at his face and am surprised to see tears sliding down his cheeks. A small sob escapes my own lips as his free hand reaches up and caresses my face. I lean into his hand, shutting my eyes, reveling in his touch.
His arms slide down, hands reaching to pull my body into his chest. I instinctively tuck my head into his neck and wrap my arms around his torso. We stand like that for who knows how long, both crying uncontrollably until the tears are spent. His right hand follows a calming path up and down my back while his left is firmly curved around my neck, holding my head in place. I feel him inhale deeply, chest rising against mine, his heart beats in rhythm with my own.
"I thought you were dead," the words are barely audible and possibly unspoken but I hear them none-the-less. Vaughn continues, his voice gaining strength, "There was so much blood and you weren't there. A few months later a body, with DNA matching yours, turned up in a hotel room in Vienna. The body was burned beyond visual recognition but Sloane had been sighted in the area the previous week so the CIA concluded he had used you to whatever end he had intended and then disposed of you."
Vaughn stops, pulling me away from him, locking his eyes with mine, "Syd, you have to believe that I knew better than to believe any evidence of your death, especially if it was linked to Sloane. I kept searching, looking for any reason to believe that you were alive, that you were coming back, but there was never anything. We had regular intel coming in regarding Sloane and his location but there was never anything about you or anyone resembling you. The CIA closed the file three months ago - I think they only kept it open that long out of respect for your father. I have done what I could but I was expected to continue on with my job and my work, despite what had happened, despite our relationship. Do you understand that there was no hope? iNothing/i turned up in the past two years to make me think that you were alive until your phone call to Kendall yesterday."
A few more tears managed to squeeze themselves from my eyes as I looked back at Vaughn. "I understand." I shrug, not knowing what more I can say at this point.
Vaughn's hands come up to frame my face as he leans in, lips hovering in front of mine. I left up hands to cover his, the inside of my knuckle knocking against the hard metal band on his left hand, causing my head to jerk back, away from Vaughn. How soon we forget what we don't want to know.
"How long, Vaughn?"
Vaughn's hands fall back to his sides, bringing mine down as well. "Almost three months."
Before I can ask more questions, Vaughn is at the door, calling down the hall in Chinese, "She's ready."
After a few seconds, the man who showed me to my room and brought me a couple meals is bringing in another stack of clothing with a passport resting on top. He is in and out without a word, leaving Vaughn and I alone again.
"I'll let you change, our flight leaves in an hour. Your alias is Natasha Hamilton, you are my sister and we have just been to China to visit our parents who are missionaries. There will be six other plain-clothed agents on the plane with us, two each behind, in front and beside us. We'll land in Los Angeles close to midnight and will be escorted out a back entrance and into a van that will take you to the Joint Task Force center and into custody," Vaughn avoids looking at me for more than a second, his eyes circled the room, stopping on the window above the bed.
"I won't try and escape," I reply to his unformed question. "I've got no where to run." And nothing to run to.
Vaughn says nothing more as he opens the door and leaves me alone in the room to change. It seems silly that I have to be alone to change my clothes; a memory of him kissing up and down my uncovered body is still vivid in my mind.
My reflection in the mirror across the room catches my eye and seeing myself with this new knowledge brings on a rush of nausea. Thankfully I haven't eaten much and I simply end up dry-heaving over the toilet. I change quickly and pick up my passport before going out into the hallway to an unsmiling Vaughn and whatever it is that lays ahead.
* * *
Onboard the plane I start feeling even more uncomfortable, knowing six other agents are in close proximity to make sure I make it to LA - not for my own safety but for the safety of my country - I am a threat. I find it odd that we aren't on a private flight but then the whole situation is a little different to put it mildly so I will just go with it.
Usually I can sleep without any trouble when I am on a plane, sometimes flights are the only time I am able to catch up on my sleep. But now I am wide awake, though I do lean against the side of the plane, eyes closed, pretending to sleep so I don't continue staring at Vaughn, willing him to look in my direction. After an hour I feel Vaughn's arm relax on the armrest and I peek through a crack in my eyelids to see that he has fallen asleep. I open my eyes and sit back in my chair, sighing as I stare at the call button above my head.
In my head I replay every moment that has happened since Vaughn came into to my room in Hong Kong. A sarcastic laugh passes my lips as I recall a point when I was fighting 'Francie' and the thought that things couldn't get any worse passed through my mind. I never would have thought that Sloane could have taken my life from me without killing me. But here I am, two years lost, no doubt because of Arvin Sloane.
Next to me Vaughn's breathing has gotten heavier, 'poor guy,' I can't help but think. He didn't ask for any of this, it's simply par for the course when it comes to my life and it's my fault he got dragged into it. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, willing his head to fall onto my shoulder, longing for physical contact, conscious or not. I lean over, turning my head, hoping to get a whiff of his aftershave or shampoo, both familiar smells. Neither scent greets my nose but instead there is the smell of my own shampoo. Rosemary and mint. Vaughn had commented more than once about how much money was I sudsing into my hair and washing down the drain. He is using my shampoo? Or, maybe he is using his wife's shampoo - I banish that thought from my mind.
I must have finally drifted off because I just heard the head flight attendant announce that we are just about to land. Vaughn isn't seated next to me and I feel the panic rising in my stomach, thinking that I am going to have to do this by myself. I'm halfway out of my seat, an alarmed look on my face, eyes searching the plane. The agents seated behind me avoid my eyes but then I see him, coming out of the bathroom at the back of the plane. I quickly turn to right myself in my seat but not before Vaughn has seen me.
"Hey, don't worry, Syd," Vaughn murmurs as he takes his place next to me. "You are not alone."
"Funny, it sure feels like I am," I can't help the sarcasm that has found its way into my voice.
Vaughn sighs and shakes his head, "I guess I can't tell you how to feel but please trust that I will not leave you, I am your ally, I'm on your side."
His words echo through my mind as we make it through landing and get off the plane without exchanging another word. Vaughn's hand is wrapped lightly around my arm, guiding me into a corridor off from the main concourse. At the end of the hall is a door, leading us to a windowless room where we are met by four uniformed agents.
One of the four steps forward, he reminds me of a guy I dated in high school, Kevin Maxfield. Kevin was tall and broad shouldered with black hair, but this guy is blond and his badge says his name is Bryce Armstrong. "Sydney Bristow?"
"Yes," one-word answers are always best.
"Sydney Bristow, you are under arrest pending the investigation of possible treasonous activity on your part against the United States," Agent Armstrong starts reading me my rights as I turn my back to him, offering him my wrists.
I feel the metal of the handcuffs circle my wrists, my eyes on Vaughn, who winces as he hears my bonds click tighter. His eyes meet mine, revealing a sadness I'm sure matched in my own eyes. "Ms Bristow, do you understand your rights," our silent exchange is interrupted.
"Yes."
"Thank you, Agent Vaughn, for bringing her in," another agent's voice booms from behind me. The words flush my cheeks, causing me to feel humiliated for something I have had no control over.
Vaughn's eyes flicker over mine before he responds, "Not a problem, Agent Jenkins. Are we ready to go?"
"Yes, sir. The van is waiting right outside this door." Sir?
I feel a strong hand take hold of my arm and spin me around to face a door I hadn't noticed when we walked in the room. Two agents go ahead of us and then I am led through the door, with Vaughn and the fourth agent bringing up the rear. A van truly is waiting a few feet away from the door, in between planes with the airport terminals looming above us. I surprised they didn't simple pull right up to the plane and load me directly into the van.
The ride to the ops center is uneventful; Vaughn has to ride in front with the deep voiced Jenkins while I am in back with Armstrong and the other two agents who have yet to speak. Despite all of my training I am having a hard time keeping myself from bursting into tears, there is just no way to prepare for this situation in your life.
The van slows to a stop and the door slides open revealing familiar territory - the same door my mother was taken in and out of when she was transported. I am my mother's daughter after all.
Vaughn is standing before me, offering a weak smile.
"Agent Vaughn, you are to report to Director Kendall now," Jenkins calls from the driver's seat. "We can take it from here."
I nod, silently acknowledging that I am all right, knowing he feels guilty for already having to leave me. Vaughn turns and opens the door closest to the van and goes inside, while I am maneuvered out of my seat and onto my feet. Armstrong seems to have been given point on maintaining my security as he is the one who takes my arm again and leads me into the building and down the familiar hallway to the cell formerly inhabited by my mother.
* * *
The handcuffs were thankfully removed once I was inside the cell and I have been left alone for the past thirty minutes or so, though I am without a doubt being monitored closely by the four security cameras within my cell. I hear the gate at the end of the hallway shift, starting to open; I briefly wonder what my mother used to think when she heard the same noise. Footsteps are approaching, I know that walk: Vaughn.
Vaughn nods back down the hall to the agent at the other end once he is in front of my door and I hear the lock click. They are allowing him to come inside, that must be a good sign. He enters my new quarters and comes to sit next to me on the cement slab I can now call a bed.
"I've explained to Kendall how I found you in Hong Kong, that you don't remember anything of the past 23 months," Vaughn speaks clearly, knowing we are being monitored. "They are going to wait until morning to start testing you."
"How long," I ask then, noting the look of confusion on his face, clarify, "How long are they going to hold me?"
"I'm not sure, I guess it depends on what shows up on the tests. First, will be medical and physical testing and then psychological and emotional. At that point I would assume that you will have some regression therapy sessions if you haven't started remembering things but I hope they will have released you by then, at least to a safe house." Vaughn explains, "Tomorrow you will be allowed visitors, your father and Will and maybe Dixon and Marshall."
I feel a wave of emotions wash over me as Vaughn names the people closest to me, even though I feel like I just saw them, knowing it has been so long makes me instantly miss them. "So, my father is all right?"
"Yes, but he is on an assignment in Brazil and won't be back until the morning," Vaughn sighs. "Hopefully you will be able to get answers to your questions in the morning."
"One more question, what about Francie? She's dead, isn't she?"
"I'm sorry, Syd, she was gone for a long time before that night. We found her body the next day and it was determined that she had been killed a few months before, around the time that the Alliance fell," Vaughn puts his hand over mine on the bed has he talks. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," I whisper, my eyes locked on the wedding ring adorning the hand that is wrapped around mine.
I look up at Vaughn and see that he has followed my gaze down to our hands, after a second he looks up, too. I just shake my head sadly and shrug. Vaughn simply leans over and kisses my forehead as I close my eyes. There aren't words left for us to say right now, though the questions flying through my mind are endless.
Vaughn stands up and goes to the door, turning to look back at me. "Get some sleep, Syd, I'm sure you are going to need it."
"Thank you," again I am whispering, "Thank you for coming to get me. I'm sorry if I caused any problems with your."
"Don't worry about it," Vaughn stops me from continuing, "Syd, things are going to be all right, despite how they seem now. Trust me, everything is not as bad as it seems."
I lift my hand and wave as he passes by on the other side of the glass, waiting until he is out of sight to let the sob that I have been holding escape, bringing it with it a downpour of tears. His sentiment is nice and well-directed but I can't see how things aren't as bad as they seem, especially with regard to the two of us. He's married - what makes that better? Vaughn certainly isn't one to gloss things over so he surely didn't mean that I would find someone new and we would both live happily ever after in our separate lives or that what we had was unimportant and I will get over it.
I turn and curl up on the thin mattress, with my back facing the empty room and the cameras. Hopefully sleep will come before too long, I can't stand to be alone with my thoughts any longer.
---- Thanks for reading. I hope that you enjoyed it so far considering not much has happened. Things will happen in the next chapter, I promise, but I'm tired now so you will just have to wait.