My little girl is gone, and it's my fault. I had plenty of help, but I was
the one who pulled a gun on that arrogant SOB and demanded he tell me where
they were keeping Sydney. I know that he was the one who told the FBI what
cars to look for… if I'd found a different way to get her location she
might still be alive. If I'd simply blown him away… no, I couldn't do that,
even though it would have been a favor to humanity.
My phone rings and I pick it up automatically, habit taking over despite the fact that I want to be left alone. "Dad," she whispers and my heart stops. It's her, she's alive. Numbly I chastise her about not being on the way to Italy and then I hear myself agree to meet her before she goes. I know this is dangerous, but I can't deny myself the chance to see her with my own eyes.
The drive to the marina is a blur. The next thing I know, I'm standing in front of my daughter listening in disbelief as she tells me her mother is still alive. It can't be… but it makes sense. It's the only thing about this whole mixed up mess that makes any sense. If Laura is still alive, then the prophecy refers to her… I know enough about Laura to know that if this is so, Rambaldi's description of her is more than accurate, and a shiver runs down my spine. Giving my daughter a hug good bye, I return home.
Later I'm lying in bed, waiting for the sleep that will not come. Laura. Yet another thing that is my fault. Two dozen agents dead because I fell in love with the wrong woman. And what of the pain that mistake has caused my daughter? First believing her mother to be a saint and I the devil himself, then finding out that it was actually the reverse. I want nothing more than to keep Sydney from pain, yet all I seem to do is cause it.
Finally, I fall into a fitful sleep, merely an hour before dawn. I rise with the sun, prepared for my meeting with Vaughn.
When I arrive at the warehouse, I realize something. Michael Vaughn is in love with my daughter. Oh, I've known for some time that he sees her as more than simply an agent, but this is something more. One look at him tells me I am not the only one who spent a sleepless night, and I feel a pang of guilt as I realize I could have spared him hours of heartache. This too is my fault.
"I have good news," I tell him guardedly.
"What? You figured out how to tell Sloane that Sydney won't be meeting him on Tuesday?" he asked.
"No, I found out that she will be meeting him on Tuesday, if all goes according to plan," I reply evenly.
His head jerks up and his eyes flame with anger. "What the hell are you trying to pull?" he asks heatedly. "Syd is dead, there's no way that's going to happen."
"Actually she's not. Right now she should just be landing in Rome, if I have it right." I can tell by the look on his face that he's still not comprehending this, so I tell him bluntly. "She didn't die Vaughn… she used the air in the tires to wait the police out and resurfaced when it was safe."
I would have paid good money to see the look of utter shock that crossed his face. "She's not… you mean… and she… wow!" was all he managed to say before he collapsed onto a crate.
My lips twitch in amusement and I say, "No, she's not dead. I won't try to interpret the rest of what you said enough to answer it, but I guess that piece of information will suffice for now." He nods blankly and I chuckle as I leave. Michael Vaughn is completely boggled, and it's my fault.
There are probably two or three more parts coming in this… but right now it's almost 5 am and I'm going to bed.
My phone rings and I pick it up automatically, habit taking over despite the fact that I want to be left alone. "Dad," she whispers and my heart stops. It's her, she's alive. Numbly I chastise her about not being on the way to Italy and then I hear myself agree to meet her before she goes. I know this is dangerous, but I can't deny myself the chance to see her with my own eyes.
The drive to the marina is a blur. The next thing I know, I'm standing in front of my daughter listening in disbelief as she tells me her mother is still alive. It can't be… but it makes sense. It's the only thing about this whole mixed up mess that makes any sense. If Laura is still alive, then the prophecy refers to her… I know enough about Laura to know that if this is so, Rambaldi's description of her is more than accurate, and a shiver runs down my spine. Giving my daughter a hug good bye, I return home.
Later I'm lying in bed, waiting for the sleep that will not come. Laura. Yet another thing that is my fault. Two dozen agents dead because I fell in love with the wrong woman. And what of the pain that mistake has caused my daughter? First believing her mother to be a saint and I the devil himself, then finding out that it was actually the reverse. I want nothing more than to keep Sydney from pain, yet all I seem to do is cause it.
Finally, I fall into a fitful sleep, merely an hour before dawn. I rise with the sun, prepared for my meeting with Vaughn.
When I arrive at the warehouse, I realize something. Michael Vaughn is in love with my daughter. Oh, I've known for some time that he sees her as more than simply an agent, but this is something more. One look at him tells me I am not the only one who spent a sleepless night, and I feel a pang of guilt as I realize I could have spared him hours of heartache. This too is my fault.
"I have good news," I tell him guardedly.
"What? You figured out how to tell Sloane that Sydney won't be meeting him on Tuesday?" he asked.
"No, I found out that she will be meeting him on Tuesday, if all goes according to plan," I reply evenly.
His head jerks up and his eyes flame with anger. "What the hell are you trying to pull?" he asks heatedly. "Syd is dead, there's no way that's going to happen."
"Actually she's not. Right now she should just be landing in Rome, if I have it right." I can tell by the look on his face that he's still not comprehending this, so I tell him bluntly. "She didn't die Vaughn… she used the air in the tires to wait the police out and resurfaced when it was safe."
I would have paid good money to see the look of utter shock that crossed his face. "She's not… you mean… and she… wow!" was all he managed to say before he collapsed onto a crate.
My lips twitch in amusement and I say, "No, she's not dead. I won't try to interpret the rest of what you said enough to answer it, but I guess that piece of information will suffice for now." He nods blankly and I chuckle as I leave. Michael Vaughn is completely boggled, and it's my fault.
There are probably two or three more parts coming in this… but right now it's almost 5 am and I'm going to bed.