Author's Note: Okay, I know this one is really too short to be a chapter, which is why I'm putting it out so soon after my previous update.  What can I say?  I believe in the power of the cliffhanger!  Seriously, though, I hope the last installment of my story will make up for it since it's seeming to go on for pages and pages…(just kidding!)

Note to Corinne: First off, thanks for all your reviews.  I do notice who's enjoying my stuff and I really appreciate the great feedback you've been giving me.  Anyway, about the brooch question.  What I actually said was that Sydney would replace the real brooch with Marshall's fake and the CIA would get the real one.  Also don't forget that the CIA came up with their own copy (if you'll recall in Chapter 5, Vaughn told Weiss he found out which piece Anna was after because he sent a search team into Anna's hotel room while he and Anna went out to dinner.) and since SD-6 also wants the brooch, Sydney was going to give the one the CIA made to them.  Sorry, I know it sounds convoluted, but this way everyone ends up thinking they have the real brooch when it really went to the CIA.  In any case, it doesn't really figure into the main plot of the story, which is Sydney & Vaughn! (What else is there?)

Hope this explains everything!

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"Hello, Ms. Bristow." Sydney didn't dare turn her head, but she knew before she heard the voice that Anna was on the other side of the gun. "Put your hands on your head!" She barked and then crept stealthily around until she was standing in front of Sydney, the gun pointed straight at her heart. "Not so drunk anymore, are you?" Anna sneered.

Sydney slowly brought up her hands above her head. "Anna, I don't know what you're doing, but I'm not armed."

"More's the pity for you, isn't it?" Anna remarked sarcastically. "I assume you are after the Rambaldi brooch?"

Sydney swallowed the huge lump in her throat. "Actually, no." She replied cautiously.

"Oh, so you expect me to believe you got lost on your way from the ladies room?" Anna arched an eyebrow in derision. Keeping the gun trained on Sydney, she moved towards the vault and placed a descrambler on the steel door. Numbers started flashing as the code was being broken. "Please explain what you are doing here then. It will pass the time until the door is open and I kill you." Anna was smiling pleasantly at her, as if they were discussing the weather or the latest Tom Cruise movie.

"Why would you want to do that?" Sydney inquired. "Think of all the fun we would miss out on together." She dared to be flip.

"Somehow I think my life would be a lot more enjoyable if you weren't in it." Anna retorted.

"But it would be so boring." Sydney cut her eyes at the descrambler. Three of the seven numbers were aligned. "So since we have some time for a little girl talk, why don't you tell me about the delicious Mr. Phillips?" She let a smile play about her lips, which infuriated Anna.

"I hope you don't think you made any sort of impression on him." Anna said loftily. "I seem to recall him telling me that you were a pushy, unappealing drunk." She smiled sweetly through her insults.

"And was that before or after he couldn't keep his hands off me when we were dancing?" Sydney countered, receiving another one of Anna's glares. "Maybe you were the one who didn't make a good impression on him, honey." She said in a careless fashion.

Anna narrowed her eyes at Sydney. "I assure you that the time I spent with Mr. Phillips was extremely fulfilling and not something he will soon forget."

Sydney struggled not to react to Anna's taunts. She was lying, she had to be. Vaughn wouldn't have slept with her. I have to believe in him.

A tiny alarm went off and they both looked at the descrambler. The numbers were all in place. Anna backed towards the door and tried the handle. It opened immediately.

She turned back to Sydney. "Well, I guess time's up for you." Anna smiled, but her eyes were cold. "I'll tell Russell tonight in my hotel room how very happy he made a dying woman." Anna aimed the gun at Sydney's chest. Sydney struggled not to flinch.

"Mariana!"

To be continued…