Disclaimer's the same, title's the same, author's still a little cooky...
Chapter Genre: Fluff and then mission funness. How many times has that happened?
This Chapter: A slumber party guilt trip, death threats, and the mission to Russia. (And yes, they follow Kendall's advice...thus far.) Oh! Guest starring: Lauren from the Birthday Contest. I'm thinking of doing another contest: any takers?
Suggested Soundtrack: "Two Princes" by Spin Doctors, "Badenweiler" off the Alias soundtrack, and "Catalyst" by Anna Nalick.
Author's Note: Let's continue with the chapter...
Seventeen Again
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Spring Break!
"Okay, here's the plan. I'll snap to Wak who'll fake a reverse hand-off to Herbert who'll run in a fly pattern down the left sideline. That should distract about half the team. Then Wak'll fake a pass to Henry who'll immediately fall on Greg because they're practically glued at the fist. When everyone's distracted, Wak will go deep to Anne."
"I saw your lips move, but it pretty much sound like 'blah-blah, blah, blah-blah-blah—'"
"Run to the endzone and catch Wak's pass."
"Gotcha. BREAK!"
Anne, Henry, Tobi, Joe, Wak (John Wakowski's almost-phonetic alias), Syd, John Motz, Ruth Anders, and Matt Herbert lined up left to right across the line of scrimmage as Weiss, Abby, Taylor Hoffman, Mike Holcomb, Vaughn, Tom Link, Bobby (she had never seen him before), Cari Jones, and Allyson set themselves to match. Wak hiked the ball, and Syd and Vaughn immediately clashed. Just as she was about to pummel her boyfriend into the ground, he whispered raggedly in her ear, "You're Jane, here, not Sydney." She backed off, and he shoved her to the ground in order to blitz the quarterback. She pounded the frozen ground and huffed in frustration, but smiled again as Vaughn missed Wak and the latter threw to Anne for a touchdown. As Henry hoisted her over his shoulder for a victory lap around the retention pond, Syd grinned up into the darkening sky.
The three agents gathered in the retention pond behind Joe and Allyson Hall's house along with what seemed like half of the senior and junior classes. The Hall twins had invited their entire group of friends over for tug-o-war, Ultimate Frisbee, football, a bonfire, movies, and a sleepover. Even as the stars began to shine, they continued to yell and scream and whoop and laugh, calling out plays in the blackness and shrieking as they ran into one another.
The first day of break, Sydney slept in until two in the afternoon when she woke up to the sound of Weiss and Vaughn making lunch in the kitchen. After pretending to invite her father to her house loudly over the phone, they quickly apologized, and the three of them spent the rest of the day rediscovering their molds in the couch cushions.
Anne abducted Sydney on the second day of break to go "power Prom dress shopping" at the nearest outdoor outlet mall. They ended up spending half the time in a discount book store ("Three classics for ten bucks? Dear Lord! Who could pass up War and Peace, Anne of Green Gables, and Wuthering Heights for less than a coffee from Starbucks!" "What Starbucks are you going to?" "I don't go to Starbucks. My growth is stunted enough, thank you very much") while they wiled away the other half drooling over the display cases at the Chocolate Factory.
Vaughn called when Sydney detoured into American Eagle — Anne refused to enter and waited outside, despite the near-freezing temperature. He informed her that Kendall should call any minute with the exact date and time of their next mini-mission to Russia. She exited the store hurriedly in order to get better reception and found Anne on her cell phone as well. Her friend mouthed that Henry was on the line, and Syd hung up with a small frown. Anne hurriedly wrapped up her conversation, and proceeded to invite Jane, Michael, and Greg to a sleepover at Joe and Allyson's house on Sunday. Even as Sydney heartily accepted the invitation, a hint of reservation crept into her stomach.
Something was going to mess this up.
And something did.
Something named Kendall.
He scheduled the mini-mission for Monday.
But she did not rescind their R.S.V.P., most likely as an affront to the Director, and all three agents showed up at the Hall twins' house on time and ready to pull an all-nighter. Sydney never attended many sleepovers during high school, let alone co-ed sleepovers. (Vaughn did not count — they never did much sleeping.) She had no idea what to expect, and nearly asked Anne what the game plan entailed, but the senior girl beat her to it, rattling off a list of activities they would be doing, movies they would be watching, and sleeping accessories the Halls usually provided. This gesture greatly shaved down her anxiety.
Abby, now reduced to a mere shadow next to Weiss, a slightly larger black spot, huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "This is officially insane," She commented, voice echoing around the retention pond in which they played. "I can't see two feet in front of me!"
"Since when were you able to see two feet in front of you?" Joe's voice asked somewhere off to Sydney's left.
"Are you saying you run into all those doors because you enjoy it?" Anne screeched, trying not to laugh at her own joke.
"Hey!" The poor girl cried as the largest blob of all — Matt Herbert, presumably — scooped her up and began running towards Joe's backyard. As Allyson yelled at Joe to start the bonfire, the rest of the teens gravitated toward the house as well, their sleeping bags and the promise of a heaping fire sounding too good to pass up.
Weiss, Vaughn, and Sydney lagged slightly behind, knowing Anne would drag out their belongings and save a spot for them. "What time do we have to be at the airport?" Weiss whispered.
"The plane lifts off from Midway at noon," answered Vaughn, muffling his response with Sydney's hair.
She glanced up at him swiftly. "Accounting for rush hour traffic, that means we have to leave at ten o'clock! How is that going to happen?"
Vaughn sighed as they rose over the lip of the pond and approached the group of friends clustered around a metal fire pit. "Syd, you're picking up your parents from the airport with me, and Weiss's got practice. Now let's synchronize our watches. Set? All right. Donne-moi du chocolat, Anne, s'il te plaît."
With eighteen people and very limited access to the fire, uncomfortable positions were bound to occur. Blankets circled the fire pit and teenagers lay upon one another like human sandwiches ready for grilling. Just as Anne lay down nibbling on a graham cracker, Henry flew out of the darkness with a quilt trailing behind him like a cape and flopped down on top of her with a loud grunt. "Ow! Henry!" She cried, twisting and flailing in a vain attempt to buck him off. "What the hell! I can barely breathe! Get your fat ass off me."
"Just be glad Herbert's not laying on you," Allyson admonished, her large boyfriend hugging her closer underneath another quilt. Everyone laughed as they settled into spots. Couples coupled up and passed food around the extremely cramped circle. Sydney watched carefully as Weiss inched his way into Anne and Henry's blanket, and he glowered at the younger man — who still sat atop Anne — as he conspicuously grabbed and held her hand. Mrs. Hall occasionally popped her head onto the porch and did a hand check in order to assure nothing questionable went on, causing Syd to laugh; she remembered the infamous hand check during Homecoming dinner that stuck Lara with the check.
It seemed like years since the Homecoming dance, let alone the beginning of the year; Sydney could not believe only a few months spanned that time instead. They uncovered so much in that small space that she could only marvel at what they accomplished. Part of her hated to think that their mission tomorrow could spell the beginning of the end of the agents' time at Glenfield. Suddenly, Sydney could not bear the thought of leaving of newfound friends. For the first time in her life, she was part of a group. She did not have one or two friends that monopolized her time; now, when anyone put her in charge of reservations, she never said less than fifteen. Never did she think of herself as lonely, but she now realized how much she enjoyed having a group. Three different cereals sat on her counter top: something with marshmallows, something chocolately, and cornflakes. Depending on her mood, each day she could choose a different breakfast, and each would satisfy her.
Now it was the marshmallow cereal, but tomorrow could be the chocolate.
But tomorrow was the mission.
'No. Don't think of that right now. Concentrate on—'
"—They have too much sex there."
"What!"
Anne turned her head as far as she could. "I'm serious! One of my speech coaches told me Western Illinois University is a huge party school, and I definitely wouldn't like going there."
"As if the bus to Wal-Mart wasn't a big enough attraction," Joe quipped, tossing a handful of grass on the fire.
"That was Eastern, but they're a ten-minute tractor ride away, so whatever." Anne squeezed Weiss's hand and pulled it under her chin. "Have you guys decided which school you're going to yet?"
Many students began talking at once, and Sydney immediately felt left out, not only in the sense that she could not talk about college, but that she had to think which schools Jane would go to.
Henry shifted on top of Anne, making her groan in melodramatic pain. "Michigan Tech," He answered immediately. "Majoring in Ecology."
Multiple gasps echoed in the small area. "Ecology?" John repeated incredulously.
"Michigan Tech?" Anne queried, trying to look over her shoulder at him. "But that's so far away! Don't you want to stay close to home?"
"Look who's talking," Abby interjected, staring up at the starry night sky. "Little Miss I'm Going to Georgetown in New York."
"Abs, Georgetown's in D.C."
"I knew that. Just testing you."
"Yeah. Uh-huh. Guess we all know where Abby's going to college." Ruth smiled at their group of friends knowingly.
Matt raised his hand and answered, "C.O.D.? College of Dreams?"
Everyone laughed again and Anne explained, "College of DuPage, the community college. I think we already talked about that with Tressaut." Grabbing a thin twig from the lawn, she began peeling back the bark and tossing fragments into the fire. "I know I want to go to Georgetown, but that's to get away from my family, not you guys." She sighed. "We're all going away, and we'll be so far apart, and I'm gonna miss everyone so much."
"There's always email," Mike pointed out, wrapping a blanket around his new girlfriend, Taylor, a junior in the colour guard.
"And we'll all be in the general vicinity." Henry began braiding blades of grass into Anne's hair. "I'm just going to Michigan; Tobi's going to Purdue; Matt's getting a full football scholarship to Notre Dame; Motz's at University of Illinois; Mike's at that design school in Schaumberg; and Joe, Wak, and Allyson are going to C.O.D. You're the one who's moving away!"
"So we'll all be here when you get back," Allyson added.
"And anyways," Joe butted in, "when we go for that gigantic road trip to North Carolina, you're on the way! We'll pick you up!"
Anne smiled and hugged Weiss's arm. "We've got it all figured out, don't we? In four years after we've graduated, we'll all be living downtown in one entire freaking building like the cast of 'Friends.' Can you imagine what that would be like?" She turned to Sydney, who was beginning to nod off against Vaughn's shoulder, but awoke under Anne's gaze. "We'll be best friends forever. And I'm not being a 'naïvely optimistic Democrat,' as certain conservatives might say..." She grinned brightly as the Republicans in the group sat up and began practically barking at their friend, heatedly discussing the results of the first Full Session.
Sydney, now fully awake, leaned back into her boyfriend, clutching her stomach discreetly. Best friends forever? It had been a long time since she conveniently forgot that one day Greg, Michael, and Jane would leave the small town without warning, tearing to shreds any relationships they maintained. She remembered this feeling the hour before they raided SD-6 — the fear, regret, and utter nakedness of laying out her true identity like a wet shirt before a fire to dry.
God, it was going to be so hard to leave them. All of them.
Especially after a wonderful night like that one.
She had seen Anne grieve the loss of two friends: the girl took both extremely hard. How would she cope with the loss of a friend, best friend, and pseudo-boyfriend? Add to that any possible extreme measure the agents had to go to in order to take down the Negro/Azul organization — Sark would never go quietly; completely not his style — and that made one messy equation.
'See! That's why I didn't want to form any deep relationships here! It's going to be just as painful for them when we leave as it will be to leave them.
'Well, at least Lara won't be around to make their lives hell anymore.'
Eventually, they became bored with games of musical sleeping bags and random hand checks, so the entire group of sixteen (Bobby and Tobi had to leave: they worked early in the morning. "That's why you take the week off, numb nuts!" Joe called out the door after them) literally folded themselves into the minuscule basement to watch movies.
"It's like playing Tetris...with people!" Anne exclaimed. She occupied the corner of a love seat with Weiss beneath her. Syd and Vaughn scrunched into the other corner while John Motz lay parallel to their couch with Henry perched on his friend's feet. The rest sprawled in various positions and varying degrees of comfort — Matt Herbert looked extremely smooshed on another love seat; his knees hung off the end. Their conversation continued over the racket of "Full Metal Jacket" and "Old School," and would have continued into "Dodge Ball," but Mrs. Hall popped down from the first floor to enforce curfew: two o'clock in the morning. She practically had to pry boy- and girlfriends apart, ushering the females upstairs so they could sleep in peace.
"But Mom!" Allyson whined, trying to extricate herself from Matt's mass. "We're not going to do anything! Not with all these people around, at least."
Mrs. Hall gave her daughter a stern glare as she double-checked that the basement was clear of girls. "You're all in band; I know what goes on in your heads!"
As a handful of people pretended to gag at the thought of an actual, massive band orgy, Joe paused the movie again. "Then why do the girls get the first floor? There's more of us!"
"'Cause we want to keep your stench contained to a small room," Abby joked. Matt suddenly bolted up, hauled the senior girl over his shoulder, and threw her into the pit of boys and sleeping bags. That prompted the rest of them to pile downstairs to reclaim their fallen comrade, and Mrs. Hall nearly screamed. Unwilling to test the woman further, Sydney pecked Vaughn on the cheek with a parting kiss before trooping into the kitchen/Great Room with the rest of her gender.
Someone flipped on MTV ("Hey! They still play music videos occasionally!") as they unrolled their sleeping bags and proceeded to not use them, instead gossiping around the island in the kitchen as they heard the guys telling fart jokes downstairs.
"So is it serious?" Ruth asked Sydney immediately, struggling to get comfortable on a tall bar stool. "You and Michael?"
Syd blushed, and Anne nudged her playfully while answering, "Duh! He met her parents already. Did they like him, by the way?"
"They're a little wary of pretty much everyone," She replied truthfully, peering down into her glass of water. "But I think my father's starting to turn. He doesn't try to kill him anymore, at least."
"That's always good," Allyson added.
"Do they know about his record?" Ruth queried.
Sydney rolled her eyes, and her dimples practically collapsed her cheeks. "Oh yeah. My dad's — well, they're both very thorough people. They know probably more than he does."
"Hey," Abby interjected, leaning back against the cabinets and addressing Anne, "what's up with you and Henry? Or is it you and Greg?"
Anne smoothed her hair back from her forehead while exhaling slowly. "God, I plead the fifth." Groans and chiding flew at her, as did peanut M&Ms. "Ah! Okay, okay! I'll answer!" Her voice dropped volume levels, and everyone automatically leaned closer. "Henry's been flirting with me all year, but he hasn't said anything to me or anyone else. Greg has." She smiled and averted her eyes towards the basement, seeing something else entirely. "I really like Greg, and he really likes me. So until Henry does or says anything to — I don't know — change my mind, I have no reason to think he has any feelings for me whatsoever."
"So who do you like more? Who do you want to go out with? What would happen if Henry did try something?"
The girl opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment, a massive groan practically shook the foundation of the house. "MOTZ!" Multiple male voices bellowed as the guys shoved their way up the stairs and into the kitchen, holding their noses and fanning away a gaseous odor.
"What!" The poor boy exclaimed, emerging from the basement utterly alone. "I had enchiladas for dinner! What do you expect?"
"What the hell is going on down here?" Mrs. Hall demanded, pounding down the stairs in alarm. The guys pointed toward John, and she frowned knowingly. "All right. Some of you come down and help me air the place out."
Males and females began intermingling again, and Sydney began to think of this as a well-planned diversion. "Seriously, John," Joe said, grabbing a pop can from the refrigerator, "sometimes I think you have a problem."
"If you call not having a brain a problem," Anne added, grinning at her own insult. Henry sidled over to her side with two cans of Coke, offering one to her. She received it graciously, and they began chatting amiably about whatever video played on MTV. "I can't believe the Backstreet Boys are getting back together," She admonished, leaning against the island as he did the same, inching closer to her.
"What," He asked incredulously, "you weren't a BSB fan back in the day?"
"No way. I was totally an 'N Syncer. BSB was my mortal enemy. Along with Britney Spears."
"Justin?"
"No. Lance. I just hate Britney Spears."
Weiss glowered at the two of them from behind Sydney and Vaughn. "How hard would it be to set him up as a terrorist?"
"Not very." Syd discreetly leaned towards her fellow agents. "Didn't you hear about the kid from Naperville Central who almost got arrested by the FBI for checking out books from the library about the Taliban? He was writing an essay on totalitarianism."
"Yeah, could we do that?"
"You know what I told you about abusing the Patriot Act!"
Vaughn raised an eyebrow at his friend. "Jealousy is not a good colour on you, mon ami."
"Shut up, jackass," Weiss countered fiercely. "Like you were any better when you found out she slept with Noah. Or do you not remember Donovan running for cover as you threw a chair at me for asking if you had more beer?"
Sydney sniggered into her water as her boyfriend sneered. "Seems like someone needs his beauty rest. And we might get less than five hours of it. Let's hope my father will let us sleep on the plane."
"I'll drink to that," Vaughn interjected, taking a swig of Syd's water before heading for the basement again with the rest of the guys. "A demain, cherie," He whispered, not realizing all the girls heard him. They accosted Sydney with fawning, even as she tried to avoid them by practically diving into her sleeping bag. Cari and Taylor settled down as well, and as soon as they laid down, they fell asleep. Others started filtering onto the ground, and when Anne finally attempted to sleep, she had to drag Ruth under the pool table in order to sleep next to her best friend.
"Psst!" She stage-whispered. "Are you awake, Jane?"
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes she answered, "Yeah? What do you want?"
Her friend sighed in the dark, and Sydney could sense a heavy frown. "Henry asked me out to lunch tomorrow. God, Jane, what am I gonna do?"
'Oh no. Can I plead conflict of interests? Weiss is one of my best friends, but he's going to break her heart. Good luck with this one.'
"Jane?"
"It's only lunch," She replied slowly, voice still fuzzy with fatigue. "What's the harm? You're friends; it's entirely normal. If you're really worried about it, make it a group thing."
'Just don't tell Weiss.'
"Thanks. You're the best."
'Yeah, and there goes my hope for sleep. Yay for guilt.'
"—Beta, Charlie, and Delta teams will rendezvous with us in country. Any questions?"
"Yeah, where's the floor?"
Jack frowned at the male agent as he struggled with an all-too-small blanket and Dixon tried to hide his smile. "It would serve you well, Agent Vaughn, to sleep more than four hours before a mission."
"In his defense, Dad," Sydney interjected, lacing up her boots and tying them firmly, "he did sleep more than four hours. Most of them were on this plane, though..." A yawn broke her sentence, and Dixon outright laughed.
"We've had worse, haven't we, Syd?" He reminisced over the sound of the cargo plane's jets. "Remember three years ago with SD-6? Buenos Aires, back to Los Angeles, and then on to Beijing in twenty-four hours."
"How much caffeine did we have that night?"
"Enough to make an elephant go into shock."
Marshall, who had strapped himself against the metal shell of the plane with the straps of a parachute pack, poked his head into the conversation. "You know, caffeine isn't the best way to stay awake, what with the massive energy crash and all. I learned that the hard way. In college, somehow all my finals got scheduled on the same day — or maybe that was just one of my nightmares—"
"We've reached altitude. We'll be over the target in five minutes."
All five agents glanced at one another before moving towards the door, despite Marshall trying to practically climb into the cockpit. Jack eventually strapped the technology genius into his double harness, and one by one they jumped off the plane into the night sky. All Sydney could think of as the air rushed past her ears (besides the plastic pull cable in her right hand) was the immense magnitude of the mission. The safety of their future, their country, their school, their friends lay inherent in their success. It could be the final step in killing the entire monster instead of nibbling at its toe like they had been doing. They could nab Lara and Sark and prevent thousands of children and teens from being used and abused for Black Market profit.
But no pressure.
Somehow she hit the ground without killing herself, and was in the process of gathering her parachute when seven black vans skidded to a halt around them, kicking up clouds of dry, fresh snow. Dixon, Vaughn, Jack, and Marshall (looking whiter than the fluff beneath her feet) filled in around her, peering warily at the vehicles.
One of the passenger doors swung open, and an agent hopped down spritely. The tall, curvy frame suggested a woman; even in the extreme darkness (the trucks traveled without headlights), Sydney could distinguish familiar features. The woman shined a flashlight into the faces of the new arrivals, making Sydney see spots, before she offered a muted laugh and tugged off her ski mask, releasing curly hair. "It's about time," Cassidy Malone chided, tossing the flashlight to her Los Angeles female counterpart. Her smile flashed in the bright light as she motioned to the caravan pointedly. "Stash your equipment and we'll be on our way. Bristow — uh, little Bristow, you're with me." Syd and Vaughn paused as Cassidy hauled herself into the van again, and without glancing back she added, "Naturally, I meant you, too, Agent Vaughn. Now get in before I kick your cute butt."
They complied, clambering into the back of the industrial vehicle with their bags of gear, and Cassidy joined them after verifying the reception of the 'mail' with Base Ops. She sat next to the pair as they assembled weapons and checked which objects were Marshall's gadgets and which were...pens. "So," She began, folding her hands between her knees as she leaned forwards, "fancy seeing you two here. I thought you'd be at a...pep rally or something."
"It's Spring Break," Vaughn replied tersely, slamming a clip into his gun.
She nodded silently, and Sydney stilled her movement. "What are you doing here? Isn't this the only time you get to be with Tressaut — I mean, Mark?" She grimaced in the dark at her incredibly stupid slip of the tongue, and hoped Cassidy would ignore it.
In the minuscule light, Cassidy raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "When you doubled with SD-6, did you spend your off time shackin' up with Agent Hottie over here?" Both Los Angeles agents frowned and continued with their respective tasks. "To answer your question, Charles Tressaut is spending the week in Seattle with his girlfriend Ingrid. Mark Malone, on the other hand, is temporarily sleeping at the Egg and will be on the other side of these comm pieces as soon as we turn them on."
"One minute out."
Sydney nearly jumped out of her skin at the gruff voice from the front seat. She glanced at Vaughn, and their gazes locked in the dim light. Their eyes radiated the same statement: 'It's go time.'
Cassidy rose and crouched under the low ceiling. "We'll go over op-tech with the rest of the team upon arrival. Good luck." She then climbed back into her original seat.
The two agents began repacking their gear as the van began to slow and swerve, presumably around trees. Without glancing up he murmured placidly, "Sark could be there. Lara."
She peered up at him under her eyebrows. "They won't surrender to us."
He sighed heavily as he viciously zippered his pack. "I know. I'm just telling you...If I get the shot, I'm gonna take it."
Glaring at him in surprise she replied, "That's not what I meant! We need to know the full reach of their organization."
"But you said—"
"I said I want to kick her ass, not paint the wall with her brains. Large difference." The van lurched to a stop unexpectedly, sending the two agents careening into the only two seats in the vehicle. Cassidy redundantly announced their arrival and hopped out, shortly followed by Sydney and Vaughn. The compound immediately monopolized their view.
The former trees now lay a good space behind them, and the vans circled in what could only be described as the moat. The agents stood equidistant between the forest and Sark's palace, and Sydney merely stared. A round stone wall curved off into the distance, and a four-story compound peeked up over the crenelation-style top, indicating a fusion of czar-like elegance and Communist efficiency. All large spotlights angled inwards shining on the inner courtyard, and no guards marched along the wall or patrolled the balcony landings.
Which should have tipped off everyone.
Instead, scores of agents poured from the vehicles and gathered around a woman, obviously the on-site team leader. She rose a fist for silence and immediately received it, forcing an inappropriate snort from Sydney's nose. Cassidy frowned at her, and she whispered, "Sorry. She reminds me of a teacher. What's her name?"
"Lauren. The CIA flew her in from New Jersey just for this mission. They're expecting a little much from a compound that might be connected with the Negro/Azuls. But that's my opinion. No one ever listens to Cassidy; no, that would be logical—"
"Malone!" The woman snapped, lips a thin line. Cassidy waved impertinently but remained silent. "Thank you. As I was saying Alpha, Beta, and Charlie teams each have a section of the compound to explore. Delta team will wait in the vans and monitor the radio frequency and camera feeds for problems. If you need an emergency extraction and need to abort, the code word is 'rose.' You've all been equipped with maps detailing your sector. Remember, if you see Sark or Andropov, corner and detain. I repeat, corner and detain. Any questions?" Even the idling vans seemed to silence for a moment. "Good. We rendezvous here in one hour. Good luck."
Another agent wove throughout the crowd handing out repelling equipment. Sydney sighed wryly before eventually seeking out Dixon and Jack and, along with Vaughn, they began climbing the thick outer wall. She let her thoughts wander to keep her mind off muscles unused for some time.
What would she do if she found Lara? Or Sark, for that matter? If she had the shot, would she take it, or follow her own sermon? She did not know. Sark's round face loomed in her mind's eye. She had yet to endure a moment when she did not want to punch the smirk off his face, but the information he could (and most certainly would) provide outweighed her gun's siren call.
But what intelligence could Lara possibly disclose? Analysts currently labeled her status as a lower-level affiliate. She dealt with public relations/image and recruiting; thus ended her role. If that were the case, then it did not matter what action Sydney eventually took. But why did Sark invite the teenager to his compound in Russia over Spring Break? To discuss numbers in bed over vodka and toast? It made no sense to Sydney. Something else — something deeper — must have been going on.
Therefore no happy-happy-fun-fun target practice for Syd.
Upon arriving at their quadrant, Sydney's team further divided the area, and the leader assigned her and Vaughn the task of gathering documents from Sark's personal study. With one last glance at Jack and Dixon, they trotted silently down a corridor.
"You haven't said a word since we broke with Cassidy," Vaughn whispered, flicking on the comm piece in his ear. They flattened against opposite walls and checked the hallway that intersected their own. "What's up?"
"Nothing," She replied honestly. She nodded to her side of the invading hall, and they hurried off. "I was just thinking — about Lara."
"Follow your own advice, Syd," He warned, covering their backs with a raised weapon. "Double standards won't work with us." Suddenly two guards emerge from parallel corridors, and both agents instinctively opened fire. Vaughn's fell immediately while Sydney's required coercion in the form of an elbow to the temple.
Locking gazes, they began jogging in the explicit direction of Sark's study. She regained a normal breathing rate and finally replied, "I know. I was just...reevaluating my advice." She flipped on her own comm piece. "But if the bitch poses the merest threat to either of us, I won't hesitate to take her out. Hard."
"Ah, Sydney," A familiar voice practically purred over her comm. "You join us at last. It's not like you to be late — or, at least, it's not like Jane."
Sydney abruptly halted in the middle of the hall and said at a normal volume, "Tressaut?" Another gun-toting, mask-clad guard appeared around a corner, and both agents opened fire, sending his body back out of sight with two tranq darts on opposite sides of his chest. She turned her attention back to her earpiece. "What the hell are you doing?" She whispered sharply, remembering to keep her volume in check. Vaughn motioned for them to take a left, but what looked like a hallway was actually an alcove. They glared at each other in confusion before Sydney finally shook her head and suggested they retrace their steps, heading the other direction down the same hall.
"Didn't Cassidy tell you?" Tressaut/Malone murmured in their ears. "I'm monitoring you guys from Chi-Town. Spring Break applies to teachers, too, you know."
"I know," She retorted quickly, indignant at her initial response. Of course teachers received time off! It was just a little creepy to talk to a 'teacher' outside of school, let alone on a mission. She needed to overcome that hurdle — and fast.
This time their designated path opened up into an actual hallway, but unfortunately, it came coupled with four guards to deal with. After darting two of them and forcing the other two into submission, Vaughn leaned against the wall and breathed heavily. "Is it just me, or are there a lot more guards than usual?"
The pair turned a corner, coming face-to-face with yet another guard. Tripping him into the wall, Sydney replied, "It's not just you. What the hell's going on?" The same thought occurred to them simultaneously. "You think—"
"—It can't be—"
"—That Lara's here?"
"Whatever it is, you've got another two coming at you from your left — NOW!" Malone broke in tensely. They ducked into their next hallway destination, and Sydney took care of the guards as Vaughn quickly reloaded his gun and also extracted his real weapon.
"It's like they know exactly where we're going to be," Sydney breathed once the men slumped to the floor, unconscious. "There's definitely something up."
"Okay, new plan," Malone said, obvious by his tone that he was shifting papers — blueprints, schematics, maps. "Does one of you have a full map — one including the east half of the building?"
Vaughn checked his bag quickly, brow wrinkled in consternation and confusion. "Yeah, I do. Why?"
"The building's symmetrical," He explained as if having a momentary epiphany. "This could be a trap; the documents could actually be on the complete opposite side of the building."
"What are you suggesting?" Sydney ground out, frustrated.
"I don't know!" exclaimed Malone, voice straining in desperation. "I'm not usually on this side of the conversation!"
Vaughn turned to his partner, brandishing the map. "There's too many clues pointing the other way. We need to try the east side of the building. And we only have—" a glance at his watch "—forty-seven minutes. It'll take at least fifteen to get over there, another fifteen to find the room and anything inside—"
"Then go!" She urged, starting down the way they were previously heading. "I'll keep going this way. Maybe it's not a trap—"
He grabbed her bicep firmly, a tough feat to accomplish as her entire body was three times thicker than normal. "I won't let you go into a trap willingly. No way in hell."
"You don't know that's what it is." He stared at her, desperately attempting to change her mind, but she merely yanked herself away. "I swear to God, Vaughn, if you don't leave right now...If I get into trouble, I'll open my channel to the common frequency. Better? Now go!" Not waiting for a response, she began sprinting down the corridor, following the well-memorized plan dancing through her brain.
Deep in her mind, her thoughts conflicted. This whole excursion might be a set-up; the alcove discovery red-flagged in her memory. But they could not take the chance; they needed to cover all their bases, and she wanted to do the covering.
After that first incident with the alcove/hallway, every direction had been spot-on; every corridor stretched out in the direction it was supposed to. But before she reached the doorway, Vaughn's voice crept into her ear again. "Chameleon, I've reached the nest; going for the eggs now."
"Are you kidding?" She blurted out in a breathy whisper, not halting until she came upon the supposed door of the office. "How did you get there so quickly?"
"I haven't run into a guard yet," He replied. She heard paper rustling through the comm piece. "And I think I just found—"
After quickly weighing the pros and cons in her head, her hand flew to the doorknob as her mouth interrupted her partner. "I don't think this is a trap. I'm going in."
"Sydney, NO!"
The door banged open, but the high ceilings met with tall bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes and lamps with green shades typical of a den or study did not meet her eyes. Instead, cement encased stale air that breezed past her as the pressure escaped. A blonde man clad in black slacks and a turtleneck turned around slowly, one hand gripping a wineglass while the other immersed itself in his pocket. Blue eyes met brown, and Sydney immediately raised her gun to shoot, but the weapon only clicked; she used her last dart on the last guard, and she never reloaded. Sark swirled his glass extraneously. "Sydney Bristow. Well, this is certainly a surprise. No matter; I have what I need now." He extracted his concealed hand and aimed his own tranquilizer gun at her head.
"Son of a b—"
"Sydney? Syd? Oh God, Syd, please wake up..."
"Stop slapping my cheeks and I might consider it." The world stopped jiggling up and down, coercing her to slowly open her eyes. Voices in the background blurred like her vision at first, continually rolling up and down like wherever the hell they were...
She tried to sit up, but the world began spinning on its axis faster than she liked, and she placed a hand on her forehead in order to buffer her jostling brain, and found a slightly damp gauze pad covering her skin. Her eyes opened completely and Vaughn's concerned face slowly materialized along with the sensation of his cool hand on her warm cheek. Peering over to her right, Cassidy's hunched back faced them as she rapidly chatted away on her cell phone and cracked her knuckles at the same time. Jet engines roared just below the level of the rolling voices, confusing Sydney even further. She began shifting her eyes about rapidly, trying to absorb her surroundings, but a sudden bout of turbulence hit only her stomach, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut in order to bring the world back to equilibrium.
"Vaughn, where the hell are we? What happened? Can you help me sit up?"
He sighed as he aided his girlfriend in righting and propping herself against the shell of the plane. She leaned into him as she took in their environment. The entire cargo plane seemed to be overrun with agents from the mission. A small group of obvious techies gathered around Marshall, nearly worshiping his every word. (Sydney thought she saw Jason Sterne in the fray.) Analysts passed around papers from computer to computer as others ran from team leaders with instructions or executive decisions.
The mission was obviously over.
So where the hell has she been?
Making sure Cassidy still occupied herself with her phone, Vaughn turned to Sydney, subconsciously grasping one of her hands. "The Negro/Azuls suspected a mole in their organization, and the schematics in Lara's locker were there as a test. They planted information about Sark's compound, procured fake blueprints, and then waited to see who would show up. The actual documents were on the other side of the building. That's why there were so many guards on the west side: they were tasked with catching the mole."
"Did you get the documents?" She asked, guessing the answer from the amount of hubbub.
He nodded. "As soon as you went down, I opened my channel, and Alpha Team swarmed to your location, but Sark was gone by the time I got there. He shot you with a tranq, which is probably why you want to throw up right now. Loading you onto the plane while you were unconscious probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it wasn't my call." Vaughn hurled a withering glare at Cassidy, and Sydney managed a half smile. Peering down at his girlfriend again, he squeezed her hand tighter. "When I heard you hit the floor — God, I couldn't think! I couldn't breathe. I thought I'd lost you, Syd. I had no idea what Sark was doing to you, if you were still alive...Never be that stubborn again. Promise me."
She was not going to promise something she might not be able to live up to, and as they locked gazes, she communicated as much. He frowned and knotted his eyebrows, but continued all the same. She sighed heavily and settled farther into her boyfriend's embrace. "Why didn't Sark take me anywhere? It's not like him to leave loose ends."
"He got what he wanted," Vaughn answered simply, shrugging in earnest. "He wanted to know what was going on with the Negro/Azuls. And he got that."
"But what did the documents say?"
Her sighing turned contagious as his chest heaved beneath her shoulder. His voice shrank to just above a whisper, barely audible over every other noise in the space. "That's just the thing. There were numerous documents detailing plans to take over the school gradually and turn it into a recruitment centre — all covert, of course; most of the turnover would occur during the summer. But they made no secret about wanting this done as quickly and efficiently as possible. Which is why they're recruiting younger and younger students: they could lead an uprising if necessary."
Sydney cradled her head in her hands as she absorbed the information. His own school within the boarders of the United States? Was that not a little ambitious, even for Sark? And the students...! Children, really; entire generations would be converted into little Sark puppets for him to use however and whenever he wished. Death by the age of twenty would practically be guaranteed. Sadness overwhelmed her body completely, compelling her to tremble with the strength of the emotion. Her hand shook within his grip, and tears backed up along the brims of her eyes like students in overcrowded stairwells.
They had no idea this was even coming.
"What can we do about it?" That was not her voice; her voice did not sound meek and mild, almost defeated, almost pushed beyond the brink. She swallowed the lump of utter despair disguised as her heart in her throat and tried again. "What are we going to do about it?"
He looked her square in the eyes as he replied, "I honestly don't know, Syd. They know we're here. Our entire operation could be blown."
"They're going to turn the school into some fucked-up version of 'Full Metal Jacket'!" She cried, wincing in disgust.
"Well, we're just screwed all around, aren't we?"
Laying her head upon his shoulder, she braced herself in resignation. She released a long, slow breath, willing the happiness she felt not twenty-four hours ago to return. It did not. "Yep. And all we can do now is wait."
TBC . . .
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Waiting Game
:D Becky, the Dream Writer 4 Life
