4 MONTHS LATER

Sydney Bristow sat on her couch, eating a pint of Hagen-Daas. The tub of ice cream had become her best friend over the course of the last few months, and that was definitely not a good thing. Never in Sydney's entire life had she felt as alone as she did right now. Vaughn was gone, Weiss was in D.C., Nadia was in a drug-induced coma, Will was in Wisconsin, her father was still her father and Francie ... well, unfortunately Francie had met her end years ago.

Sure, Rachel was a nice girl, but Sydney just didn't feel comfortable opening up to her yet. She was making progress though. Just last week she had extended her home to Rachel, who had gratefully accepted. She had taken Nadia's room ... Nadia's old room. The doctors had all but officially given up hope on her sister. Every time they brought her out of the coma, she still went all zombie-like, no matter how many drugs they pumped her full of. It saddened Sydney to no end every time the hospital phoned with what they called "news." Sydney visited Nadia weekly, to keep her up to date on the current goings-on at APO, but the truth was she could care less. APO had absolutely no lead on Prophet 5 and it was killing Sydney. As long as Gordon Dean and his minions were on the loose, Vaughn would be in danger and couldn't come home. She and Renée's "off the books" investigation wasn't spawning any leads either. Sydney liked Renée. Her "devil may care" attitude and violent tactics appealed to Sydney, and she liked learning about Vaughn ... the other Vaughn.

He was a different man, Andre Michaux. Violent, overly aggressive, willing to do anything to uncover the truth behind his father's death. Sydney had only ever seen Vaughn like that when her life was in danger — and now she understood why. A part of her feared what he was capable of, and that made her hope Vaughn was keeping his end of the bargain and not pursuing Prophet 5.

"Sydney?" a meek voice asked. Sydney almost jumped up in surprise. She had forgotten Rachel had the day off too. It was rare that two APO members were allowed time off together. Plus, she was just so damn quiet.

"Yeah Rachel? You need something?"

"Ummm, I was just wondering if you kept the pickles in the fridge or in the pantry? I wanted to make a sandwich and wasn't sure where they were and I didn't want to snoop."

"They should be in the fridge," Sydney told her, getting up. "If there are any left. I pretty much devour anything I can get my hands on."

Rachel let out a nervous chuckle, but stopped abruptly and headed to the kitchen. Sydney often wondered why Rachel was so timid and insecure, but that was a question for another day. She decided that since was getting up it was time for her little tryst with the ice cream to end, so she waddled into the kitchen and handed it off to Rachel, who put it in the freezer. Walking was starting to piss Sydney off. At six months pregnant, Sydney was big. Really big. Her father, Dixon, Marshall and even Sloane were flummoxed at how large she had gotten so quickly. They had all assured her early on that since she was so active, she wouldn't gain as much weight. She wished. Even getting out of bed was a hassle. She wasn't used to taking it slow, and although her doctor had assured her that she was still fine to do practically whatever she wanted, her father and Sloane kept toning down her missions. Now instead of being out and active in the field during missions, she was cooped up inside a van somewhere, acting as a handler to Rachel. Sydney couldn't understand how Vaughn had done it for so long ... there he was again. Her brain couldn't honestly go 5 minutes without thinking about him. She wondered how he was, all alone in some foreign place ... The sound of two beepers going off simultaneously snapped Sydney out of her daze. She looked to Rachel, who mouthed 'Sloane' and she sighed. So much for her day off ...

APO'S SECRET UNDERGROUND FACILITY - 30 MINUTES LATER

Sydney and Rachel strolled into the APO office, Syd looking pissed and Rachel looking timid like she always did. When they reached the briefing room, they found the rest of the team already there, looking more anxiety-ridden than usual. Sloane stepped forward to greet them, and beckoned for them to sit down.

"Sydney, Rachel," he began, "I'm sorry to have called you in on your day off, but it was necessary that you be here."

"Save it Sloane, what was so important that you had to interrupt my alone time?" In truth, Sydney had been dying at home, but was too proud to admit that she'd rather be here than moping around.

Sloane flicked on the screen and an oh-so familiar face appeared displayed across it. "As most of you know, this man is Julian Sark. In the past, he has been both friend and foe because of his so-called 'flexible loyalties,' but as of late, he has stayed fairly neutral. That is not the case anymore. Sources indicate that Mr. Sark was approached in broad daylight by Gordon Dean himself. Dean, apparently, is interested in acquiring a rare piece of artwork that was thought to have been destroyed in the 19th century."

"Let me guess," Sydney said dryly. "Rambaldi is somehow involved?"

"Precisely. It is believed that there is a set of numbers encoded within the paint. Those numbers are a latitude and longitude. To where, we don't know, and that's exactly the reason this painting cannot fall into the hands of Gordon Dean. Rachel, you and agents Dixon and Grace will go to Paris to recover the painting. Miss Gibson, you'll be posing as an art dealer looking to purchase a highly coveted Van Gough, but your main priority is to find Sark and keep him preoccupied whilst Dixon and Grace sneak inside and take the painting."

"Sounds simple enough," Tom said. "Just a smash and grab operation."

"It's not quite that simple Agent Grace," Sloane told him. "You'll be breaking into the Louvre."


"I can't believe you're not including me on this one!" Sydney said, outraged as she followed her father down the hall. "Sark and I have history, I know how to deal with him!"

"Which is precisely why you're not qualified for this mission in particular!" Jack shouted, turning to face his daughter. "Sark has never met Rachel, he won't know he's being duped, at least not right away. Besides, even if I wanted to send you — which I don't — you would be too conspicuous. A part of this job is to maintain a certain sense of anonymity, and walking into an event for chic art dealers at the Louvre while you're six months pregnant is not exactly subtle."

"How can I explain this to you people," Sydney hissed, pulling her father into a corner. "I'm pregnant, not sick or dying. This is not an incapacitating disease, it's a blessing and I should continue to do this job while I still can. Trust me, you're going to miss me when I'm on leave. As for being 'too conspicuous,' that just may be the case, but pregnancy can turn into an excellent alias. Take my mission last month to Budapest as an example ..."

"Sydney, we'll debate this later. Right now, I want you to help Marshall brief Rachel, Tom and Dixon on the Op Tech."

Sydney was about to protest, but remained silent and walked away to Marshall's gadget area. She would lament to Nadia later. Right now, she had to explain everything that Marshall told the agents in layman's terms. Man could that guy babble on sometimes. As she approached the office, she saw Rachel looking off into space, obviously not understanding a word Marshall was saying. Sydney remembered when she was new and had felt that way. It seemed as if all techies spoke the same lingo and no one else understood. She believed that her Op Tech person had been a girl to start out ... Courtney something or other ...

"Hey Marshall," she said as she walked into the room. "What's the lowdown on the mission specs?"

"Oh, nothin' too fancy Syd. We have a microphone necklace with instant transmission to Agent Dixon and Agent Grace so they can have a heads up, a nice little EMP stored in the briefcase Rachel will have with her, just in case we need a quick diversion. Hopefully there are no planes flying overhead if it goes off," he chuckled, but then stopped when he realized no one was laughing with him.

Over the next half hour, Sydney helped explain the function of all Marshall's other little gadgets to Rachel, who grew increasingly queasier as she continued. Although Sydney assured her she would do fine, Rachel didn't believe it. She hadn't been trained as a field agent at "The Shed" and she wasn't sure she was capable of doing it. This would be only her second solo mission after all.

When Sydney decided there was nothing left for her to educate Rachel on, she headed towards her father's office. Without bothering to knock, she stormed in, ready to continue their conversation from earlier. Jack beat her to the punch.

"Sydney, I'm aware that you're mildly upset that you're not going on the mission," Jack began. Sydney rolled her eyes. "But it's in your best interest. Honestly. If everything goes according to plan, Agent Dixon and Agent Grace should be in and out within the hour, and Rachel will learn what a slimeball Sark is."

Sydney chuckled mildly. Her father was getting better at this whole parenting thing; he knew how to calm her down much quicker than he did when they were first reintroduced. "I can handle that Dad, it's just that I'd appreciate it if you let me know I wasn't going on a mission before you doled out who's doing what. I like to be included."

"And you will be. As soon as the team lands in Paris, you'll be informed."

"Good. I'll be waiting to hear from you."

With that, she strolled out of his office and down the hall. Sometimes it was good that her father was heading up APO. She now had "perks," however few there may be. Sydney enjoyed her work, although a lot of the time it could be a pain in the ass, and she was going to miss it when she was gone. Everyone around her assumed that "gone" meant her maternity leave, but Sydney had only told Nadia that after the baby was born, she was contemplating retiring from the spy business. She had her doctorate in literature, and decided she would become a teacher, just like she believed her mother had been. But, that was a decision for another day. Technically, she figured she was still off, so she decided to head home. Finish up that pint of Hagen-Daas, watch some sappy movies, and if she was lucky, maybe there would be a few new "junk" e-mails waiting for her ...