Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD definitely has all rights (grin)

*AN* gosh I'm sorry it's been so long since an update. And truly I promise it wasn't my fault this time! It's Tuesday, and I sent chapters to be betaed on last Thursday (I still have yet to get anything back). So I'm posting a new chapter so I don't get forgotten and lost in the shuffle of updates… Oh yeah, was out of town this weekend too, otherwise I would have pestered Erin (my Dad and I drove to Virginia to buy a '96 Vette, red, and I'm so happy beyond belief about that)… Of course, expecting lots of grateful feedback that I'm back (hehe) with another Vaughn chapter! Feel the love…

"Agent Vaughn" a voice said, breaking through into Vaughn's sleeping mind. The voice repeated itself, and then the person the voice belonged to began to shake him awake.

Consciousness began to seep in and he mumbled something incoherent.  His brain was leaving behind the fuzzy cobweb quality of sleep and a memory surfaced that reminded him of his surroundings and circumstances. He visibly winced. Sydney. They had Sydney.

The voice persisted in his mission of waking Vaughn, who finally cautiously opened an eye. One of the agents accompanying them back to the States was crouched in front of Vaughn's seat and holding a cell phone out to him. "Jack Bristow" the agent told him.

Vaughn quickly sat up straight, all traces of sleep suddenly gone. "Yeah?" he asked into the phone, a quick glance in Francie's direction assuring him that she was still asleep.

"When we were married, Laura had numerous subscriptions to various foreign magazines and newspapers. Especially the glossy coffee table type picture magazines. She explained them away saying she'd learned a little of various languages, picking them up in college to fill out her course loads. I never had reason to be suspicious then, and I actually thought it was a cute little professor like quirk for her to read these things in the original language. She'd counted on me dismissing it as a trivial thing.

"Laura was especially fascinated with the African deserts, Egyptian in particular. She was like a sponge, reading everything about ancient Egyptian culture that she could get her hands on. She was endlessly talking about someday taking a vacation there.

"So we started making plans to go when Sydney was old enough to travel—couldn't have been more than 3, maybe 4. But I got called away on business at the last minute and couldn't go. Laura went on without me, taking Sydney with her.

"And when she got back, she just couldn't stop raving about how wonderful it had been. In particular, the pyramids had caught her fancy. But then as it got closer to the time period where she'd obviously been planning her disappearance, suddenly she stopped talking about Egypt. The magazines, the touristy miniatures that littered the house, everything—it just disappeared one day. She obviously wanted me to forget she'd ever even heard of Egypt."

Jack paused for a minute. Vaughn held his breath anxiously. "We've just had confirmation, Agent Vaughn. One of the pyramids she'd particularly loved, one that's older than the more famous ones, set farther out than the rest—there's been a lot of recent traffic headed towards that pyramid, especially in the past day."

Vaughn sighed a sigh of relief, not even pausing to realize that he'd probably heard more come out of Jack Bristow's mouth in less than five minutes than he'd ever heard him say before, total. All Vaughn knew was they'd found Sydney—or at least believed they had. "Thank you for letting me know" he told Jack. Who knows, he might even come to like the man someday. Recent actions proved he still had a heart after all, at least where his daughter was concerned.

Almost as an afterthought, Jack added, "Oh, by the way… the mole has been eliminated."

"Who—" Vaughn got cut off as Jack interjected.

"Haladki."

It made sense really. The man always knew too much. Was much too nosy for his own good. Vaughn couldn't help the self-satisfied smug smile that took over his face as he thanked Jack again, also coming to the realization that Haladki had been his source for the Taipei mission. And Vaughn was positive that he didn't want to know how Jack had 'eliminated' the mole.

Now it was time for his own afterthought. "What am I supposed to do with Francie?" he asked.

"Just bring her to the office with you. Will's still here. There just hasn't been time to make other arrangements."

Vaughn finally was able to detect the exhaustion and weariness in the older man's voice. He understood. And he knew instinctively that Jack hadn't slept yet, was still dangerously burning the candle from both ends. But when things like this happened… well, everything else just didn't matter. The world stopped turning on its axis, and everything came to a standstill.

The phone was now beeping at him, telling him how long he'd been spacing out since Jack had disconnected. He turned the phone off and tossed it towards the nearby couch. It caught the attention of the Agent who'd woken him and handed him the phone in the first place. Sanderson, he thought the guy's name was. Vaughn took the opportunity to ask him how much longer till landing.

"About 3 hours" he replied.

Things were looking up again, at least on the surface. The queasy sick feeling in his stomach was less noticeable since he'd talked to Jack. Maybe things were going to work out after all. He could only hope.

Vaughn sighed and settled back into his chair, trying desperately to get comfortable. He leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes, seeking relaxation.

But until he knew that Sydney was safe once again (she'd never be completely safe as long as the Alliance existed, he knew that), or at least safe from this mission, Vaughn knew he wouldn't be able to relax. Because the woman he loved had told him she loved him and then walked away willingly into captivity to spare the life of a friend.

Images began to flit across his mind. Images of Sydney flashing past his eyes, an endless blur of past, present, and future. Past images of Sydney as he imagined she'd looked like as a toddler. One of those images of a child with their first birthday cake smeared all over her face, as every kid in the world did. Images of Sydney as a child dressed in dance costumes for her ballet recitals, plumy feathers every color of the rainbow sticking out from behind her head. Images of Sydney glowing as she graduated from high school, prepared to take on the world. Present day images of Sydney, dressed in those black 'banker appropriate' suits. Images of her in her running clothes, in jeans and a T-shirt, as she'd looked dressed up that night for dinner with Sloane. Images of her happy, sad, angry, determined… scared. Future images of Sydney as he imagined she'd look on her wedding day, dressed in white and her face glowing happily. Images of Sydney pregnant, her belly swollen from the life that grew within. Images of Sydney laughingly chasing after children, combing hair into pigtails, reading bedtime stories, and kissing skinned knees. Images of her standing in front of the mirror, examining her first gray hair. Images of Sydney, floating before him, taunting him, teasing him, torturing him…

My God, how he loved this woman! Every fiber of his being longed for her, searched for her, reached for her… It took his breath away…

No matter what it took, Vaughn was going to love her and protect her. He'd be her Guardian Angel, always watching after her well being, ready to catch her when she fell, to be there to set her back on her feet. When no one else cared if she lived through a mission, Vaughn would care. If only she would get out of this alive. He vowed to spend his life keeping her safe until that someday when they could finally be together.

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