She took a slow, deep breath, and blinked a few times to make sure
that she wasn't dreaming. No one spoke, and tension hung in the air around
them like a hot, sweaty summer night. Agent Johnson had given up the
pretense of working and was watching the two of them with blatant interest.
Outside, cars whizzed by and an airplane flew noisily overhead. Slowly, she
shook her head.
"No," she said, quietly at first, then louder, "No." Johnson raised his eyebrows, and Vaughn's eyes held something unreadable.
"What the hell is going on here?" she exploded. Johnson leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the table in front of him, looking for all the world like a spectator at a boxing match. Vaughn cleared his throat.
"Sydney. Something came up – we have to talk."
"I'll say something came up! What the hell are you doing here? Trying to wreak havoc on my mind or something? SD-6 isn't gone! You know that; you of all people should know that. What are you doing here?"
"I told you, we have to talk. Now will you listen to me? Come on, Sydney, it's me." Sydney took a deep breath.
"Fine. What do you want?" she said calmly, without emotion.
"Listen carefully. This mission to Russia – it isn't what we thought it was. It seems like a routine mission for a Rambaldi artifact, right?" Sydney nodded.
"Well, it isn't. You'll actually be retrieving top-secret information on the Alliance, hidden inside an old journal bearing resemblance to one of Rambaldi's works."
"The Alliance?"
"Yes. And Syd, I don't have to tell you what that means." Sydney glanced at Johnson, who nodded.
"Oh, God. You mean, this means – it has detailed information on the Alliance? On every member?"
"On every member. The papers belonged to an employee of one of the members. The Alliance needs it back, because it would mean their death should the wrong person get their hands on it."
"Why does this person still have it? How did he get it in the first place?"
"He was a very trusted, high-ranking employee, and he recently died of old age. The information, as I told you, was disguised as a journal, and is now at the house of his daughter, who doesn't know what it really contains. The information is in code – should anyone try to read it, it looks like gibberish." Sydney sank down in the other chair slowly.
"And I'll be holding this journal? It will be in my possession?" After four years of working for SD-6, two of them painfully lacking Vaughn, the concept that this hell could be over was overwhelmingly hard to grasp. She looked down at her hands, which were trembling. She folded them in her lap to cease their nervous motion. Looking back up at Vaughn, she asked quietly, to reassure herself,
"It's over? I photograph this journal, and it's over?" Vaughn nodded, watching her with an odd expression on his face.
"It's over," he said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small device.
"This is your camera – just get every page on film, okay?"
"I know how to take pictures," she snapped, feeling a bit of her old self return. She shook her head.
"Sorry…sorry. I, it's just, this is so much…I never imagined, you know?" She paused, looking down, and around the room, and finally back at Vaughn. At the face she had thought she would never see again.
"I honestly believed it would never end. I thought…I thought that when I left you, two years ago, it was goodbye. Forever. And now…"
"Yes," he said. "Now." She nodded.
"But there's one thing I don't understand. Why did you come and tell me this? Why didn't they just send Johnson?" Vaughn laughed, an odd sound, that echoed off the cracked cement walls, but a welcome sound.
"Oh, they did just send Johnson. I invited myself along. Do you get it? When you come back from Russia, and come to us with the pictures, you don't have to hide anymore. No more lies, no more secrets. You'll be free. I wanted to be the one to tell you that." Freedom. A concept Sydney didn't think she knew the meaning of anymore. Slowly, she smiled – her first real smile in two years.
"Vaughn…" she whispered, ready to lose herself in the eyes she hadn't seen for too long. Johnson stood up and closed his briefcase with a snap.
"Well," he said briskly. "If we're all done here…" Sydney blinked; she had forgotten he was there.
"Yeah," she said. "I'll see you later then, I guess." Johnson left the room, nodding at the two of them as he passed. Vaughn walked towards the door, pausing next to her. He reached down and brushed her cheek with his hand.
"When you get back, Syd, we'll talk, all right?" She nodded, unable to speak.
"I'll be waiting for you. Be careful, okay?" She nodded again.
"You too," she said, and the memories of countless similar partings filled her head and choked her throat.
"See you soon, Syd," he said, and walked out the door. Sydney remained there for a few moments longer, collecting herself, then followed them out.
The plane ride to Russia was uneventful, as was the trip to the daughter's house. Though this mission would be extremely easy, as the daughter was unsuspecting and had no guards or high equipment, Dixon had come along to keep watch in the street. Sydney took a deep breath as she left the unmarked white van and headed to the house. She slipped around the back, jimmied the lock on the back door, and turned off the house alarm with one of Marshall's gadgets. Once inside, she looked around to get her bearings. Sloane had told her the journal would be in the office. When she had asked him why a Rambaldi artifact would be in a Russian suburban house, he had shrugged and replied that the woman who owned the house was an archaeologist, and had found the journal in an old church. She kept it in her office, in an attempt to decipher it herself. Sydney headed towards the office now, and let herself in quietly. She paused, listening for noises from the rest of the house, but heard none. She went over to the desk quickly, searching it for the journal. Finally, she found it in a bottom drawer. Pulling it out, she opened it on the desk and took pictures of the pages, flipping them quickly. When she was finished, she closed the journal and put it in her bag. She shut the drawer, but before she could straighten, she heard the sound of a gun being cocked.
"Who are you, and what the hell are you doing here?"
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"No," she said, quietly at first, then louder, "No." Johnson raised his eyebrows, and Vaughn's eyes held something unreadable.
"What the hell is going on here?" she exploded. Johnson leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the table in front of him, looking for all the world like a spectator at a boxing match. Vaughn cleared his throat.
"Sydney. Something came up – we have to talk."
"I'll say something came up! What the hell are you doing here? Trying to wreak havoc on my mind or something? SD-6 isn't gone! You know that; you of all people should know that. What are you doing here?"
"I told you, we have to talk. Now will you listen to me? Come on, Sydney, it's me." Sydney took a deep breath.
"Fine. What do you want?" she said calmly, without emotion.
"Listen carefully. This mission to Russia – it isn't what we thought it was. It seems like a routine mission for a Rambaldi artifact, right?" Sydney nodded.
"Well, it isn't. You'll actually be retrieving top-secret information on the Alliance, hidden inside an old journal bearing resemblance to one of Rambaldi's works."
"The Alliance?"
"Yes. And Syd, I don't have to tell you what that means." Sydney glanced at Johnson, who nodded.
"Oh, God. You mean, this means – it has detailed information on the Alliance? On every member?"
"On every member. The papers belonged to an employee of one of the members. The Alliance needs it back, because it would mean their death should the wrong person get their hands on it."
"Why does this person still have it? How did he get it in the first place?"
"He was a very trusted, high-ranking employee, and he recently died of old age. The information, as I told you, was disguised as a journal, and is now at the house of his daughter, who doesn't know what it really contains. The information is in code – should anyone try to read it, it looks like gibberish." Sydney sank down in the other chair slowly.
"And I'll be holding this journal? It will be in my possession?" After four years of working for SD-6, two of them painfully lacking Vaughn, the concept that this hell could be over was overwhelmingly hard to grasp. She looked down at her hands, which were trembling. She folded them in her lap to cease their nervous motion. Looking back up at Vaughn, she asked quietly, to reassure herself,
"It's over? I photograph this journal, and it's over?" Vaughn nodded, watching her with an odd expression on his face.
"It's over," he said. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small device.
"This is your camera – just get every page on film, okay?"
"I know how to take pictures," she snapped, feeling a bit of her old self return. She shook her head.
"Sorry…sorry. I, it's just, this is so much…I never imagined, you know?" She paused, looking down, and around the room, and finally back at Vaughn. At the face she had thought she would never see again.
"I honestly believed it would never end. I thought…I thought that when I left you, two years ago, it was goodbye. Forever. And now…"
"Yes," he said. "Now." She nodded.
"But there's one thing I don't understand. Why did you come and tell me this? Why didn't they just send Johnson?" Vaughn laughed, an odd sound, that echoed off the cracked cement walls, but a welcome sound.
"Oh, they did just send Johnson. I invited myself along. Do you get it? When you come back from Russia, and come to us with the pictures, you don't have to hide anymore. No more lies, no more secrets. You'll be free. I wanted to be the one to tell you that." Freedom. A concept Sydney didn't think she knew the meaning of anymore. Slowly, she smiled – her first real smile in two years.
"Vaughn…" she whispered, ready to lose herself in the eyes she hadn't seen for too long. Johnson stood up and closed his briefcase with a snap.
"Well," he said briskly. "If we're all done here…" Sydney blinked; she had forgotten he was there.
"Yeah," she said. "I'll see you later then, I guess." Johnson left the room, nodding at the two of them as he passed. Vaughn walked towards the door, pausing next to her. He reached down and brushed her cheek with his hand.
"When you get back, Syd, we'll talk, all right?" She nodded, unable to speak.
"I'll be waiting for you. Be careful, okay?" She nodded again.
"You too," she said, and the memories of countless similar partings filled her head and choked her throat.
"See you soon, Syd," he said, and walked out the door. Sydney remained there for a few moments longer, collecting herself, then followed them out.
The plane ride to Russia was uneventful, as was the trip to the daughter's house. Though this mission would be extremely easy, as the daughter was unsuspecting and had no guards or high equipment, Dixon had come along to keep watch in the street. Sydney took a deep breath as she left the unmarked white van and headed to the house. She slipped around the back, jimmied the lock on the back door, and turned off the house alarm with one of Marshall's gadgets. Once inside, she looked around to get her bearings. Sloane had told her the journal would be in the office. When she had asked him why a Rambaldi artifact would be in a Russian suburban house, he had shrugged and replied that the woman who owned the house was an archaeologist, and had found the journal in an old church. She kept it in her office, in an attempt to decipher it herself. Sydney headed towards the office now, and let herself in quietly. She paused, listening for noises from the rest of the house, but heard none. She went over to the desk quickly, searching it for the journal. Finally, she found it in a bottom drawer. Pulling it out, she opened it on the desk and took pictures of the pages, flipping them quickly. When she was finished, she closed the journal and put it in her bag. She shut the drawer, but before she could straighten, she heard the sound of a gun being cocked.
"Who are you, and what the hell are you doing here?"
Hey again…please tell me what you thought! Praise, criticism, whatever…let me know! More reviews = more updates.