It all belongs to the great and wonderful JJ, GO JJ
Dedication; This is dedicated to my great friend thanks she really helped with the story Thank you Hanusia.
Gone In White
Vaughn watched the monitor intently as he the woman he loved shot at a man, with absolutely no mercy at all. Once in each knee, twice in the chest and then as if to make sure he was dead, shot him once in the centre of his head. She turned on her heel, blowing a kiss towards the camera and winking mischievously, before drawing the gun towards the camera. And with that the screen cut out, leaving a fuzzy grey pattern.
Sydney had been gone for six months and two days, Vaughn knew, and he could even tell you the minutes and seconds. Last time he saw her, she was having a breakdown, after being driven over the edge by Danny's death, Fancie's death, even her own death and her dad being turned into a government project. Vaughn had tried to comfort her, but to no avail, the gentle, calm Sydney was full of rage and hatred with everyone and everything. Vaughn's efforts were lost.
Vaughn stared at the couple on the black and white photos in front of him, recently given out to all the agents in the room. It seemed the man with Sydney could comfort her, like he could not. He flicked angrily through the photos, of them in a black top down Porsche, stopped at a red light, hands running through each others hair as they stared lovingly into each others eyes, and the last one brought Vaughn's heart to pound that little bit harder, as they stood on the sidewalk, hand in hand, him trailing kisses down her neck.
"It seems, that Agent Sydney Bristow is now working with terrorist Julian Sark," Dixon stuttered eventually. Gasps filled the room; it seemed he wasn't the only one in disbelief.
Ten deaths, twenty injuries and seventeen retirements later, the CIA decided that the two couldn't be their top priority for ever, deciding that two years was long enough.
Every few months, the two would pop up, causing another chase to take place under Vaughn's orders, after receiving pictures of Sydney and Sark making love, with the words, "Because it's y life, S." scrawled on the back of each one.
Several weeks after no sightings of the pair, the CIA received Intel that they would be in Moscow and were on their way to a church. Vaughn's heart pounded harder than ever as Marshall asked a question that was on everyone's minds.
"Why would they be at a church?"
CIA made their way directly to the small church, with every agent geared up, ready for the worst. The church was crowded in a matter of seconds, with two agents at every window and door, waiting for the order to go in. And when it came, glass and splinters were sent flying around the church, as the agents pointed their guns at the people at the alter.
Their standing silently was a smartly dressed Sark, a teary Irina, a worried priest and a mysterious brunette in a long flowing dress. Vaughn breathed in quickly, as she turned around, revealing Sydney's smiling face. Shots began firing, waking Vaughn from his state of shock, all three fugitives were firing at will, killing or injuring anyone at range. The shots began slowing down, as Sark helped up the priest, who had dropped with fright.
Sydney began walking over bodies that littered the floor, lifting her dress carefully with her free hand. Vaughn lowered his gun.
"Vaughn," she whispered, touching his cheek delicately and tenderly, "I have the world in my palm, no one can take it away from me. Not the CIA. And not you." And with that her lips kissed his. Vaughn closed his eyes as Sydney pulled back and drew her gun in level with Vaughn's heart.
The three left, their job done.
Gone in white.
