Chapter 35: Remnants
He'd been left alone for quite some time now, though he wasn't entirely sure how many minutes had passed since he'd witnessed the utter destruction of the home he'd shared with his new family. Anderson had conveniently left the television on so Michael would be able to watch the mass chaos that followed when the entire neighborhood ran over to the decimated house - containing his wife, son and unborn twins.
'Maybe Sydney heard something - maybe…maybe they weren't in the house.' The words had been bounced around inside his head like an endless mantra, but now he was having trouble believing that his loved ones had survived.
First, endless sadness weighed on his shoulders, drooping them as well as his head, while his stomach felt the equivalent of a lead balloon. In the middle - somewhere - was his heart.
'Completely shattered,' he thought once more, his cheeks not having enough time to dry before another onslaught of tears poured over his saturated eyelids.
'Maybe Sydney heard something. Maybe they got out,' he repeated as the door behind him opened.
"Well, the fire department got the house out faster than I thought. Maybe you'll be able to bury some remains after all. That is…assuming you'll live through this."
"What do you want from me now? What could you possibly take from a man that has nothing?" Vaughn growled, his voice raspy and sore after his harsh sobbing.
Anderson walked around the bound man, his stride casual as his hands rested comfortably in the pockets of his khaki pants.
"You still have no clue as to what you stumbled upon in Russia…do you?" he asked, stopping behind him and focusing intently on the screen where the firemen were shown entering the house, the two ambulances that had been called in pulling back onto the street with the same number of people as when they arrived.
"It's the infamous Sydney Bristow," he grinned, leaning forward and whispering into Vaughn's ear over his shoulder. "She came back to life once…maybe she can do it again."
"How the hell do you know about that?" Whipping his head around he nearly slammed his forehead into Anderson's.
"I've been reading up on you. I've several friends in high places, and let me tell you; your profiles were very exciting. Double agent falling for her CIA handler, romantic involvement; her death intermingling with your marriage," he paused with a chuckle as Vaughn's eyes clouded over with projected hate. "Then all of a sudden she's back and your wife is a traitor. If you hadn't poked your nose where it didn't belong-"
His fist shot out, slamming into Vaughn's cheekbone as his head flew to the side, the familiar dull throb settling instantly into the abused area. This he could handle. The mindless torture from beatings was one that he'd grown accustomed to.
It was the ache of loneliness that threatened to swallow him whole. Even if - as Anderson had put it - he survived this whole ordeal, would he really want to live a life knowing that everything he'd cherished had been taken away? That he'd been emotionally stripped?
'Let's just focus on the torture right now,' he ordered, the voice in his mind - ever the faithful boy scout - trying to take charge of the rampant thoughts in his head.
"What you were doing in Russia was sadistic. You got what you deserved," Vaughn growled, another punch splitting his lip. Blood dribbled down his chin, the spots landing on his worn and faded jeans.
'Aww, Sydney just washed these yesterday,' the endless monologue flowed like ticker tape between his ears as he fought down the urge to weep.
"My studies in Russia would have turned the world for the better! What are the lives of some meaningless little brats over finding the cure for cancer?!" Anderson growled, his fist slamming into Vaughn's stomach as the breath squeezed from his lungs.
"You took my cure-" with a pause came another hit, this one bouncing off of his opposite cheekbone. "You took my wife-" a repeat blow to his right cheek, the soreness of the first blunt strike throbbing as this new attack broke the skin.
"Now I took yours. I took your life, Mr. Vaughn, I've left you with nothing. However, you still have some use to me. Tell me where you have the Rambaldi artifacts you've acquired, and I'll entertain the thought of letting you live."
"Oh…that's a bargain," Vaughn growled, Anderson's foot slamming into his chest as the momentum forced his body to topple backward in the chair, the back of his head slamming into the floor.
"We'll talk later." With that, he was left in silence once more, his body aching as he tried to roll to his side in order to take the pressure off of his bound hands behind the chairs back. The cool floor was soothing against his swelling cheek, and Sydney's name flitted from his lips before his vision blurred and then faded to black.
…
"Danny, please put your pajamas on, it's almost bedtime," Sydney ordered with an exasperated sigh, her voice traveling up the stairs where she could hear the clomping footfall of her bouncing son. Flopping gingerly onto the couch, her hands resting over her extremely large stomach as the children inside proceeded to have a boxing match.
"Mommy, can I still play when I have jammies on?" His little voice sounded so sweet and innocent, but she'd learned to say 'no' in the months without Vaughn.
"No, sweetie, not tonight. You need to put away the train set in the basement and then get into bed."
"Will you help me?" he asked, his small body showing up at the landing as he struggled valiantly with the zipper to his footy p.j.'s, the front hanging wide open showing off his Spongebob Squarepants boxer shorts. She'd found a boy's size as well as one in the men's section of the store, so on Saturday mornings Vaughn and Danny would pile all of the pillows from the house up onto the living room floor, settle in with a blanket and two bowls of cereal and just lounge while watching cartoons - complete with the cotton undershirts and bright yellow boxers with the dancing sponge on the rear end. Saturday mornings were Daddy/Danny time.
"I can't do it. I'll never know how to zip!" he growled, flopping down on the top step and crossing his arms over his chest.
"Honey, it'll take time. Zips are tricky things. C'mere and I'll help you," she held her hand out to him as he stood up and walked over, jumping up onto the couch and standing next to her while she zipped him up from the heel of his left foot all the way to his chin.
"Do we have to take apart my trains? I like them how they are," he asked, hopping down and reaching his hands out to help Sydney up from the sofa. She took them with a smile, though the little boy didn't really help too much in getting her wide body off of the comfy cushions, his beaming face made her thank him for his help anyway.
They tromped down the stairs, Danny moving quicker than Sydney as he jumped the last three and rolled onto the soft carpet. The basement was filled to the brim with toys scattered around the floor as well as piled in neat stacks along the walls. In the far corner was a large bassinet that Vaughn had just begun to put together. Right now it was just a basket with the legs and bagged nuts and bolts lying around it.
She smiled, setting a hand to her giant round stomach, remembering the day Vaughn had brought it home. Three hours into the ordeal, getting fed up with waiting, Sydney marched down the stairs with two glasses of water for her working boys. She grinned as Michael sat in the middle of a maelstrom of screws, bolts, nuts, tools and one happy little boy. Danny was wearing his Little Tykes Tool belt, a gift from his father so they could 'fix things together', his green Ninja Turtles boxers and bright red Spiderman shirt a stark contrast to Vaughn's khaki shorts and CU Boulder t-shirt.
Needless to say, the bassinet wasn't finished, and that had been three days ago. It wasn't that Michael hadn't tried - he was just a stubborn male. So now she sat and waited for the right moment to tell him that she'd found the directions online and they were waiting for him on the counter top.
"Okay, mommy, the blocks are picked up. Can you help me with my trains? They're hard to put in the box," he asked, forcing Sydney back to the present as she moved forward and knelt awkwardly, holding the box open as Danny began placing the trains, tracks, signs, small plastic men, and finally the large mat that everything went on back into the box.
"You forgot Thomas," she smiled, pointing over to the discarded blue train in the corner by the furnace room, Danny standing quickly and jogging over to lift the toy into his hands.
She'd managed to push herself up when his curious voice called out.
"Momma, there's a toy in there," he stated, pointing to the dark recesses of the room.
"It's pitch black in there, how do you know?" she asked, knowing full well that he was afraid of the room and wouldn't venture in to collect his stray play thing.
"It's beeping. Maybe it's my robot," he suggested, Sydney frowning as she spotted the aforementioned toy sitting on the child-sized coloring table.
Pushing him back she moved into the room, flipping on the light as the phone upstairs began to ring. She listened carefully, telling Danny to ignore the phone before seeing a large cardboard box sitting in the corner.
'We've unpacked everything…' she thought to herself, opening one flap to the box as the beeping intensified. She only needed to take a brief glance at the flashing numbers to know exactly what the box contained.
Jumping from the room, she snatched the confused little boy up into her arms and bolted as quickly as she could to the back door. Thankfully she'd opened it to let in some fresh air, and after throwing the screen wide she dashed out past the patio, a rushing ball of heat hitting her back as she fell to her knees in the middle of the yard, Danny's small body tucked firmly against her round stomach as their home was engulfed in flames.
Seconds later, everything went black.
…
"Come on…come on - pick up the damn phone," Eric growled as he tried Vaughn's cell phone for the millionth time that night, the faces of his colleagues and friends sitting around the blanched white APO conference table.
A young agent ran in, a single piece of white paper in his hand as he waited to be acknowledged.
"What?" Sloane asked brusquely, the man quickly moving farther into the room.
"Several agents are in the area and are reporting that the house is completely destroyed on the inside, with structural damage in the high ninety percentile. Chances of survival are slim, sir," he stated, Eric slamming the phone back down and grabbing his jacket, Nadia jumping up to follow.
"Agents Weiss and Santos, you have not been dismissed." Agent Rink's booming voice stopped them as they reached the door.
"You have permission to go. I'll have jet waiting for you at the airport. Bring them back. All of them," Sloane ordered, his pointed stare directed at the other senior officer as he groused in his chair, Weiss and Nadia bolting from the room.
"Why are we wasting our time on this?" Samuel Rink asked, Arvin regarding him with a harsh glare. "Agents Bristow and Vaughn are no longer with this agency. We have no obligation to either of them!"
"Sydney and Vaughn were exemplary agents, and the only reason that this terrorist is after them is because of their involvement with this Agency. Sydney is Nadia's sister, and Weiss and Vaughn went through training at the Farm together. Do not tell me what our obligations are, Samuel - now or ever," he growled and turned in his chair, his phone against his ear as he ordered a plane to be ready for immediate departure to Denver, as well as a helicopter to ferry them to the Vaughn's street.
Weiss handed Nadia his cell phone as he drove wildly out of the parking lot. She reached into the back and grabbed the small red light, turning it on and setting it on the dashboard as they flew through the streets of Los Angeles.
"Eric, easy. Everything's gonna be fine. Syd and Vaughn are smart-"
"Just keep calling," he interrupted with a growl, his features immediately softening as he pulled into the main lot of the airport. "I'm sorry, I just…"
"Hey, it's okay. Me too," she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek as they jumped out, Vaughn's voicemail making Nadia hang up yet again.
…
"Rise and shine," Anderson's cheery voice broke the silence of the room, the door crashing into the wall and shocking Vaughn awake as his blurry eyes focused on the now turned off television.
"Rumor has it that a CIA team is scouring the charred remains of your house for any survivors. Though I seriously doubt that they'll find anything that resembles your wife."
"You son of a-"
"Now, now, let's not lose our temper," grabbing a rolling chair he pulled himself around the table in the middle of the room and over to Vaughn's side. "I'll make you a deal. Though I've destroyed my chance at finding Rambaldi's cure - not that I need it any longer - I'm still interested in the man's artifacts. If you just tell me where the items you've acquired over the last year are, I'll let you go to your family's funeral."
Rage boiled over, his eyes darkening to a near black jade color as he glared up at the man in front of him.
"They're in Los Angeles. At the subway station, there's a secret entrance marked 'Authorized Personnel Only', and behind that door is a series of knobs, levers, and switches that will grant you access to a small stock pile of Rambaldi artifacts and manuscript pages."
"You wouldn't tell me this if there wasn't a catch," Anderson's once cheerful mood dispersed as he regarded the young, broken, man before him.
"It doesn't matter," Vaughn growled. "I gave you what you asked for; I've told you exactly where to go to find them."
"Yes, but what if I don't believe you?"
"You don't have to," Vaughn's monotone voice was beginning to irritate his interrogator as Ryan Anderson stood quickly, the chair rolling back and banging into the cabinets and sink.
"Tell me what I want to know, or I will kill you."
"Do it," Michael snarled, defiance showing in his eyes.
Anderson stepped closer to the bound agent, his face a foot away. "Eager to die, are we, Mr. Vaughn?"
"You're wasting your time. I've told you where to find the artifacts, and now it's up to you."
Ryan stepped closer, his nose inches away from Vaughn's, and Michael took the opportunity to lash out, his forehead slamming into Anderson's as the stunned man fell to the floor. He tried to push himself up on wobbling arms but Vaughn kicked his foot out across the man's face and he landed back on the tile with a thud, blood trickling from a large gash on his cheek and a purpling nose.
Fighting the urge to kick him once more, Vaughn went to work looking around the room for something that he could free himself with. He spotted a drawer marked 'scalpels' and kicked off from the wall next to him, rolling toward the cabinets. Kicking his shoe off, he slid his foot up and wedged his toes into the small hand hole, pulling until the drawer slid open.
After shoving his foot back into his shoe, he stuck his head over the edge and peeked at the many little knives that were situated by size in the small square space. Turning his head sideways and making several attempts, he'd managed to secure a scalpel on the third try.
Rolling back, he deliberately pushed sideways, knocking the chair over as he landed on his elbow, grunting before spitting out the knife and twisting around until his tied hands were facing the object. Vaughn felt around until his fingers brushed the tool and snatched it up, cutting the heels of his hands several times before managing to slice through the nylon rope.
He was free.
…
"Stop pacing," Nadia ordered as she reviewed the thin file before her, Eric's incessant pacing around the fuselage of the small jet unnerving her.
Weiss just glanced over her and resumed his walk, his hands shoved firmly in his pockets, his mind intent on ignoring her pleas.
"Eric, please - c'mon," she finally reached out, her hand gripping his lower arm in an effort to still his movements. She pulled him down into the seat beside her, his warm body comforting. Closing the folder decisively, she looked up at his unusually stoic features. "We'll be there soon," she reassured him.
"I know, I just…I don't know if I want to see it," he admitted, looking down at his lap where one of her small hands had wedged its way in between his own.
"Me either," she winced, leaning over until her head rested on his shoulder, a tear escaping and soaking into his cotton shirt.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled, brushing a kiss to the top of her head.
Picking her head up with a curious squint, she asked, "What for?" Her question made him look up to the front of the plane.
"I've lost my friends, but you've lost family."
"No, Eric - no…they're your family too," she scoffed, pulled back and folding her legs up underneath her body. "Besides, we don't know that they're gone."
"Yeah. Well…I hope you're right." He muttered, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she settled in against his chest.
He was trying to let his mind settle as he soaked in Nadia's soothing presence. Her fingers were massaging his chest as his hands roamed slowly over her back. They looked at each other simultaneously before leaning in to break the last bit of distance between them with their mouths.
Their lips were moving slowly, the kisses they shared more pecks and caresses than anything deep and sensual. Simple touches to right the bond between them as the captain's voice announces their arrival to Denver International Airport.
"Just remember that you don't have to do it alone. I'm here too," she mumbled with one final kiss as they shrugged into their coats, walking the small set of stairs to see a news chopper waiting for them.
"Are you Agent Weiss?" The pilot's voice was barely heard over the roar of the propeller despite the fact that they were screaming.
Rather than speak he merely nodded, seeing the pilot gesture at them to get in.
"Name's Davidson; Brian Davidson. Heard down the grapevine that you and Vaughn were in trouble - again," he joked, Eric laughing and leaning forward to smack him on the shoulder.
"Just go," with that Weiss' smile died as he briefed Brian on the situation.
"Wait, how do you two know each other?" Nadia asked, seeing the immediate camaraderie between the two men.
The boys stared hard at each other for a moment before Davidson returns his eyes to the proverbial road as Eric explained.
"We kinda had to act like we'd never met before, mainly because he's undercover. He's the pilot for News 4 out here in Denver, but it's just a cover. We have him on stand-by for the CIA if we need an emergency pilot, and here he is. He trained with Mike and me on the Farm, but we broke apart after that."
"Yep. Got married, got kids, the works. I'm a CIA field agent, but because of my designated cover I really don't have to do anything," he gloated.
Eric reached up to pat the other man's small beer-belly with a laugh. "I can tell."
"Hey, man, I'm sorry about Vaughn and Agent Bristow. But I've seen weirder things happen," he reassured before tilting the copter toward Lakewood.
…
After administering band-aids to the cuts on his hands, Michael crouched down beside the still unconscious man. After checking him for weapons and finding a loaded pistol in his coat pocket, he grabbed him and tossed him into the newly righted chair. After securing him with the rope that had previously been around his own wrists, Vaughn walked calmly to the sink and filled up a small paper cup with a gulp-full of water.
Throwing it into his face, Anderson woke with a sputter as Vaughn gave the waking man a minute to ascertain the reversal of the situation.
"Don't rush yourself, you took a pretty nasty hit to the head. Take your time, I've got all night." Tossing the newly bound man a mocking grin, Michael had to smirk at the rising panic in Ryan's eyes. "Not as much fun when our roles are reversed, is it?" Vaughn growled, his voice taking on a lethality that he wasn't aware he possessed.
"It had to be done…it - it was a necessity to the project," the sniveling man whimpered, Vaughn's eyebrows perking up with mixed anger and curiosity.
Stepping closer, "Murdering my family 'had to be done'?" his fist shot out, slamming into Anderson's already broken nose, a sickening crunch filling the air as the man howled in pain.
With the first hit, the second came - then the third, and soon he couldn't stop himself from taking out his aggression on the one person that had taken everything away from him.
He stopped with a final blow to Ryan's body, the man's face bloody and cut, as Vaughn turned and walked to the sink. Methodically washing his hands, the blood swirling down the drain, he turned and looked one last time at the beaten and crying man slumped forward in the chair.
Without a second glance he strode from the room, immediately seeing Dr. Patterson and his nurse sprawled on the floor, two separate pools of blood intermingling between the large suitcase full of money.
He shook his head, seeing from the front window that it was still night. Tucking the gun into the waistband of his jeans as he glanced at the clock, the time showing 1:00 a.m.
"Four hours," he muttered, hearing Denver's barking from inside as the mutt clawed at the window at the first sight of his master.
The minute he jumped into the car the dog was almost on top of him, licking at the dried blood on his cheeks as well as the purpling bruises of his swollen knuckles - though those were more 'pleasurably' attained than his facial abrasions.
Peeling out of the parking lot of the small practice, he sped down the streets noticing that the air above their neighborhood was clear of any smoke. A helicopter whizzed overhead as Vaughn slammed to a halt in the middle of the street, the remnants of his charred house still under investigation by a small group of sheriffs and firemen, a single engine and three cop cars flanking his yard.
"Excuse me, sir, this area is off limits-" the officer started, his hand immediately going to Vaughn's shoulder as Denver growled in warning.
"No, this…this is my house; I live here," he panted, air flying around them as the helicopter hovered close enough to the ground to release its passengers before rising back into the sky, Vaughn and the other men looking desperately through squinted lids to ascertain the identity of the two people running toward them.
"Weiss!" Michael shouted as he jogged over to his friends, Eric's bear-like arms around him instantly in a fierce hug, Nadia doing the same. "Thanks for the warning, man," he sighed, referring to Weiss' shouted phone call before Danny's ex-doctor had slammed something hard and metal into the back of his head.
"Did…did you get through to Syd after you called me?" Vaughn held his breath, his whole world resting on the answer from the larger agent.
"No. She…she didn't answer. She wasn't with you?" Nadia voiced, her eyes briefly scanning the wreckage before turning back, not wanting to admit that her sister and small nephew had been inside at one time.
"Is there any other way she would have gotten out?" Eric questioned, a pleading tone to his voice as Vaughn's eyes filled with tears, his legs giving out as he collapsed on the sidewalk.
"What I wouldn't do to have Jack Bristow here. He'd know exactly what to do," Eric snapped as he flopped down beside his shattered friend, Nadia moving over to talk briefly with the firemen with regards to what they'd found in their investigation of the house.
"What did you say?" Vaughn's voice perked up, his head snapping to attention.
"What? That I wish Jack were here? Yeah, I know…funny thought, huh?" Weiss chuckled as Vaughn stood, pulling the larger agent with him.
"Oh, Eric, I could kiss you right now," Vaughn grinned, the first honest one in several hours.
"Whoa, what's goin' on?" In spite of his confusion, he followed Michael over to his abandoned Suburban, grabbing Nadia on the way, as they hopped in before Vaughn sped down the road.
"Get in touch with Sloane - I need to know if there are any of Jack Bristow's contacts in Colorado," Vaughn ordered, looking over at his friends when they made no move to acquiesce. "What did the fire marshal say?" he grunted, taking a quick look over his shoulder before erratically switching lanes.
"There weren't any remains found in the house, so there's a possibility that she may have escaped. But everything was so damaged that he said it's entirely possible that there were people in the house at the time and they were just unrecognizable. Either way, none of that information helps, so we're back to page one," she explained, seeing Vaughn sigh.
"Where are we going?"
"Well, if you'd get on the phone and find a contact, I'd be able to tell you." The pointed green glare in the rear-view mirror made her shrink back into the back seat, Denver setting his head into her lap as she pulled out her cell to call APO.
"Seriously, man, where are we going?"
"We need to find Irina Derevko." Vaughn's simple answer made Eric's jaw drop. "C'mon, who would you want to find Sydney if you can't have Jack Bristow?"
Eric thought for a few long seconds, shaking his head as resignation shone in his eyes. "Irina Derevko."
"Exactly."
…
She dimly heard voices – Danny's easy to discern as he talked comfortably with someone, though the tone of the person he spoke with was low and hard to pinpoint.
She sat up slowly, the pain in her head bouncing around as she cracked her stiff neck, silence prevailing until Danny spoke his simple statement from across the room.
"Mommy! You're alive!"
The little boy bolted across the room after hopping down from the old wooden table, his little body diving into her own as she stifled a groan and hugged him in return.
"Baby, are you okay?" she asked, doing her own motherly check of his arms and legs, swinging her feet off the bed.
"He's going to be fine; you all are. Apparently, either Vaughn did not give you my warning or you're just not one to follow orders," came a voice from the other room.
Sydney looked up quickly, seeing her mother standing in the kitchen of the brackish house, stirring away at a pot of something that smelled far too good.
"Mom-" it was a mix question with a statement, and Irina smiled over at her daughter before pouring a large steaming bowl and ferrying it over to the table. "How – when on earth did- why-…" Sydney struggled with her initial reaction, Danny wiggling up onto what little lap she had left and leaned forward to kiss the twins' protective bubble, running his hands over the bundles lightly while cuddling into his mother.
"Sydney, we'll have time to talk, but right now I need to check on you. Open-" she gestured to her daughter's squinted eyes, taking out a small flashlight and shining them into each pupil quickly. "Well, you may have a mild concussion, but nothing that some pills and a night's sleep won't cure."
"Wait!" the daughter ordered, pushing away her mother's hands gently. "Why did you know about the bomb? How?"
"Sydney, I came to Vaughn to warn him because I knew that Anderson would attempt something. His wife is now dead, and he blames you both," her mother started to explain.
"Why?" By means of the awkward, pregnant-woman-push-up, Sydney managed to get to the table after Danny tugged on her fingers to help her in the right direction.
"C'mon, mommy, Gammy made soup!" he exclaimed, climbing back up into his chair and eagerly spooning up more of the tasty concoction.
Sydney looked up at her mother with a curious smile as – possibly for the first time in a very long time – Irina seemed to blush at the boy's comment.
"I have an associate who warned me that Anderson was getting information about you." Seating herself across from her daughter and the little boy who had quickly wedged his way into her heart, Irina Derevko felt tears welling in her eyes.
"Who is Anderson's contact?"
"Daniel's doctor, Chris Patterson."
Sydney grimaced with a sigh, leaning heavily on her elbows as she ducked her head. Sudden fear sparked in her eyes as looked at her mother.
"Vaughn…he – he went to go see him about Danny's medicine," she paused, apprehension clouding her face. "I have to call him…I need a phone!" she ordered, her mother staying her with a single raised hand.
"Sydney, we've no reason to believe that he's in any kind of danger. We must wait for now, I'm working out an agreement with some of your father's contacts, and we'll be extracted soon enough." Sadness darkened Derevko's eyes at the mention of the late Jack Bristow, Sydney's worry and anger dissipating slightly as she set her hand over her mother's.
"Mom…" she paused, a single tear leaking down her face. "Thanks."
…
"What do you mean you don't know where she is? I thought she was being monitored by Langley!" Vaughn shouted into the small cell phone, his back leaning against the cool metal of the car door as Eric pumped gas into the large vehicle.
"Vaughn, Langley didn't think to inform us of Derevko's disappearance because Sydney is no longer actively with this agency, and Nadia hasn't really shown the desire to find her mother since Savogda. I have a few contacts that may be able to help you, but I can't promise anything," Dixon muttered into the cell phone, the static on Vaughn's end forcing him to change position until reception improved.
"I'll take whatever you've got." With a resigned sigh, Vaughn slouched against the window, leaning his head back as Denver's tongue lapped at his ear from inside the open window.
He grinned, though it never reached his eyes, before shoving the dog's nose back into the car playfully.
"Okay, there's a contact in Colorado Springs who was involved in Jack Bristow's search for Sydney during the two years she was missing. Jack used him to find Irina. Gerald Fredrickson – 18347 W. Alameda Parkway. Good luck," he mumbled before Vaughn hung up the phone, running into the small gas station to pay as well as locate a map.
"Excuse me, I'm traveling down to Colorado Springs, and I was wondering if you had a map of the area."
"Sure thing, sir, lemme just grab it," the smiling man replied as he dove behind the counter in search of the map.
After buying every Colorado Springs map that the gas station attendant could find, the trio and the dog were on the road once more, Eric behind the wheel this time.
"Weiss, we need to haul ass. Colorado Springs is around an hour and a half from here; I wanna make it in less that an hour," Vaughn ordered as he fell sideways in the back seat, Denver's barrel of a stomach serving as a pillow.
"And when I get a speeding ticket you're payin' for it," Eric grumbled, but pushed his foot farther down onto the pedal as he heard the mumbled 'thank you' from the backseat before Vaughn fell asleep.
"Try Sydney's cell again, maybe she had it in her pocket and managed to take it with her," Weiss suggested, seeing Nadia's skeptical look from the corner of his eye.
"Can I ask you a question?" she voiced, her tone wavering and slightly watery.
"Of course, angel baby," Eric reached out, his large hand rubbing circles on her knee as she leaned closer to him.
"Do you…do you think that Irina had anything to do with it?"
"With what…the bombing?! C'mon," he reassured with a gentle pat to her knee. "Why would she take the time to warn Vaughn? Why would she be here at all? She might still be in the state, and if she is – and if she knew about the attack – then I'm sure that she would have done anything to help Syd and Dans, you know that. Despite being a horrible mother, she's pretty damn good at taking care of her family."
"Yeah, but-"
"No buts. I'm not defending her record, and with the exception of shooting Syd in the shoulder the first time they met in almost 30 years, Derevko's done nothing but protect her daughters. That includes you."
She sighed, sinking further into the chair before looking over at him with a small smile.
"Thanks, Eric."
"Any time, baby, any time," he took her hand, placing a kiss to her palm as they continued to drive into the night.
…
"You look beautiful, Sydney," Irina stated openly, her skilled hands rubbing over the roundness of her daughter's stomach, marveling that she was actually here with her pregnant daughter after all the problems they'd had in the past.
"Mom, I need to call Vaughn. I have to tell him that we're okay," she pleaded.
Irina sighed as she finished making sure that Sydney was still carrying the twins safely. Climbing back onto the couch as she pulled her shirt back down over the large bump that was her children and regarded her mother with a plaintive stare.
"Sydney, I just don't think it's safe. What I get traces on the people who did this to you, then I will allow you to contact him."
"What about Eric and Nadia at APO? Even Sloane? Do they even know about the accident? They'll be able to help from their end," she pleaded further, and Irina saw that conceding to this one little fact wouldn't be the end of the world.
"Very well, contact your sister. But please tell her to keep it to herself and APO, we do not need the men responsible trying a second time to end your life." She patted her daughter's cheek lovingly and handed her a cell phone, Danny sleeping in the seat beside them.
Sydney quickly dialed, desperate to hear her sister's voice.
Vaughn awoke with a jump and a grunt as a sudden onslaught of vibrations rattled his upper thigh.
"What the hell?!" he sat up quickly, reaching underneath his leg to find Nadia's jacket.
The owner of said jacket regarded Michael with an inquisitive stare from the passenger side seat as Weiss flashed laughing eyes at his friend from the mirror.
"It's your phone, Nadia, it's buzzing," he muttered, retrieving the small phone from her coat pocket.
"Answer it, it's probably Dixon trying to give you more information. You called from my phone before," she turned back to the front of the car as Vaughn flipped it open and hit receive.
"Vaughn," he growled, the long pause on the other end of the phone making him frown in concentration and repeat himself. "This is Vaughn."
Setting her hand to the phone's mouthpiece, she faced her mother with something akin to panic in her eyes. "Mom, it's Vaughn. He's…okay! Apparently he's with Nadia and Eric. What do I say?" For the first time in her life, she was unsure about what to do.
"Well, it's too late now, just talk to him." Irina muttered, the notepad in front of her littered with names and places as she attempted to figure a way out of their predicament.
"Michael?" her voice was a small and she heard a large whoosh of air from the other end.
"Oh my God, Sydney-" his eyes filled with tears, and they flowed quickly down his cheeks. He collapsed onto the seat back of the vehicle as he tried desperately to keep from sobbing.
"Oh, baby…don't cry, we're fine, I promise." She smiled into the phone, though he couldn't see it.
Michael wiped at his cheeks, Nadia and Eric listening intently on the conversation as Weiss's hand found its way into hers.
"All of you?" Vaughn's voice cracked slightly, but he fought to regain control of his emotions.
"Yeah, all of us. Danny's here, the twins are still in the oven, and my mother is trying to figure out a way to get to Anderson," she explained, her hand reaching out and running lightly through Danny's soft hair, his body curling into hers as he slept. "If we can just get him, the men working for him won't have the guts to try anything else. We're at a safe house in Denver – we could use all the help we can get."
Vaughn's face broke into a smile as he leaned forward, tapping Eric's shoulder and signaling him to turn back.
"Syd, text me the address and I'll see you soon, okay?"
"Wait, what are you gonna do? Vaughn, this isn't time to be a hero, just get over here. We'll figure it out once we're together," Sydney ordered into the phone, her relieved face turning into a mask of annoyance.
"I know where he is."
…