Author's note: Special thanks to Fanatic482 and the others who have reviewed my previous chapters. You guys make my day!
This chapter is kind of short and uneventful, but after a few days of writing nothing, I needed to sort of warm myself up, and anyway, it leads nicely into what's going to happen next…
Chapter Six: Holding His Own
Sometimes when Michael looked at the life he had chosen, it made him sick.
Doing Irina Derevko's bidding. Acting as if her very presence didn't make him want to vomit. Watching Sydney turn into Irina's willing little servant whenever her mother entered a room. They were supposedly taking Irina's organization down, but after three months, he could hardly see the progress they'd made. The worst part was, Sydney didn't even seem to care. She almost seemed to enjoy this life.
The thing he hated most, though? Sometimes, he kind of enjoyed it, too.
His life before had been comfortable, but Irina had introduced him to wealth and luxury beyond his wildest dreams. And power. Irina hadn't trusted him and Sydney with much responsibility at first, but the two of them were good actors, and good at what they did, and they were already moving up in the ranks of Irina's organization. Sometimes Michael wasn't sure if he should take pride in that, though Sydney assured him only good things could come from it.
"The more information we have access to, the more opportunity we have to destroy her," she was constantly pointing out.
Oh, Sydney. Undoubtedly she was the best part of his new life, the best part, in fact, of every day. Sometimes he could scarcely believe that they were allowed to act like a couple in front of whomever they chose. Sure, Syd was different than she had been back in their CIA days. So was he. But the new people they had become wanted and craved each other even more than the old Michael and Sydney had, and now, they could actually act on their feelings.
"You look so beautiful," he told her one night, leaning over to kiss her neck. Irina was throwing a party that evening, and Sydney really was radiant in the cream-colored strapless dress she wore.
She turned away from the mirror to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You look gorgeous, too, Michael," she said, pulling him to her with a contented sigh.
"Stick close to me tonight at the party, okay?" he whispered into her ear. "I don't think I can face this mess alone."
"Oh, Michael, you'll be fine." She pulled away from him, turning back to the mirror to fasten her earrings.
"That's easy for you to say," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You're a better liar than I am."
She glanced up at him, anger flashing in her brown eyes. "That's a horrible thing to say."
"It's also true," he pointed out, dropping a kiss on her neck.
Sydney sighed, gingerly touching her hair, which she had pulled up for the occasion. "Apparently, deceitfulness isn't a trait you find unattractive."
"It might be under normal circumstances," he said, between kisses on her neck and shoulders. "But under the circumstances we're in, I find it admirable."
"That's lovely, Michael," she said, moving away from him to disappear into the closet. She returned a moment later with a strappy pair of high-heeled shoes.
"Oh, Syd, don't be mad," he said, as she sat on the bed to fasten the buckles on the shoes. "I'll just be more comfortable if you're with me tonight, okay?"
"So say that, then," she said, glaring up at him. "Don't tell me I'm a good liar like you think it'll flatter me, or something. I'm not as evil as I pretend to be, you know."
He tried his best to hide his smile, to no avail. "I'm sorry, Syd. Okay?" He sat next to her on the bed, placing a hand on her shoulder. She quickly jerked away from his touch.
"Your magic hands aren't going to get you out of this one, Michael Vaughn," she said, crossing her arms before her.
Again, he found himself struggling to keep the smile from his face. She wasn't mad now, just pouting. "Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed. "It's just going to be really awkward tonight. Having to rub shoulders with all of your mother's henchmen-- Sark, Khasineau. Having to fool them into believing our intentions for being here are pure."
"It won't be so bad," she said with a shrug.
"No, not for you," he said, offering her a teasing smile. "You're a good liar."
"Michael--" she began, eyes flaring, but he silenced her with a kiss. She struggled against him at first, then he felt her give herself up to him; it was she who pushed him onto his back, working her lips down his neck.
A knock on the bedroom door threatened to interrupt their bliss. "Mmm, come back later!" Sydney managed to call out between kisses.
"I need to speak to you," Irina responded, her voice as sharp as nails.
Sydney rolled her eyes, leaving one last kiss on Michael's neck before responding. "It's not locked," she said with a sigh, rolling off of him and sitting up, straightening her clothes as she went. He did the same.
"Well, don't the two of you look lovely," Irina said, giving each of them a quick once-over. "Though your lipstick is smeared, Sydney."
"Thanks." Michael thought it was to Sydney's credit that she was able to keep from blushing.
"Why don't you fix it, while I take Mr. Vaughn away for a moment," Irina said, a cool smile playing about her lips. "You don't mind if I have a word with you, do you, Mr. Vaughn?"
"Of course not," Michael said, kissing Sydney's cheek and squeezing her hand before rising from her side. "And how many times have I told you to call me Michael?" Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sydney hide a smile. He did his best to hide one of his own.
Sydney might have been the better actor. But he could hold his own when he needed to.
