Chapter Fifteen: Paranoia
Michael Vaughn had never considered himself a paranoid man, but then again, he'd never had any reason to be. He'd worked for the CIA. Not only had he known who the bad guys were, he'd had the resources to tap their phone lines, bug their houses, and, if necessary, shoot to kill. Things were no longer so easy. He slept right down the hall from his greatest enemy of all, and not only did he have to smile to her face, he had no idea what she had in store for him. She, or anyone else, for that matter.
So, on the night he sat down to dinner with Irina and Brooke, he was feeling paranoid. The warm way Brooke had greeted Irina had thrown him. Sent his mind spinning. Who exactly was she? What was her role in the organization? Had her meeting with him really just been a coincidence?
And, suddenly, he'd begun to understand Sydney's jealousy. The circumstances they were living under weren't good for either of their moods.
"Well, that was lovely," Irina said, once they had eaten. "More wine, Michael?"
"Actually, Irina," he said, shifting in his seat. "I was kind of hoping we could take a minute to discuss Sydney. Privately."
"Michael," Irina said with a disapproving frown, glancing at Brooke. "We have a guest."
"I'm sorry, Brooke," Michael said, as apologetically as he could manage. "I'm just concerned about her, Irina. We haven't spent a night apart since we've been here, you know."
"Yes, I know." Why did the idea put a look on her face like she had just bitten into a lemon? "Well, fine, Michael. Why don't you just show Ms. Banning out, and meet me in my office?"
Michael pasted a smile on his face. "Of course." He reluctantly rose to follow Brooke to the door.
"So," Brooke said, pausing in the front hallway. "Quite a night, huh?"
"I'll say," Michael said with a nod.
Brooke smiled, leaning against the doorjamb. "You miss Sydney, huh?"
"So much." He hadn't even known how true the words were until he said them out loud.
Another smile from Brooke. "How long have you been together?"
"Just a few months," Michael said, a soft smile spreading over his face. "We knew each other for awhile before we started dating, though. The circumstances we were in just kept us from being together."
"How romantic." Still that soft, seductive smile. She was beautiful. Too bad Michael was fairly sure she was also evil.
"So what exactly do you do for Irina?" Michael figured that maybe he could at least put one of his paranoid curiosities about her to rest.
"Whatever she asks me to." Still smiling. Always smiling. "I'm sure you wouldn't find it very interesting."
"Maybe I would," he said. Her smile was infectious; he felt one spreading over his own face.
"Then let's talk about it," she suggested. "I'm not really ready to go home. Why don't we get a drink?"
"Nah." Michael was proud of himself-- he didn't even hesitate. "I mean, thanks, but I have to talk to Irina, and then I'm going to go to bed."
"Alone?"
His eyes widened, and her smile gave way to an odd, stricken expression, as if she knew she'd gone too far. But she didn't just seem embarrassed, as Michael might have expected. She seemed panicked. Like she'd just done something horrible.
And Michael's paranoia returned, and he remembered that it was Irina who had suggested he walk Brooke to the door.
"Look, I'd better go," Brooke said, a blush rising to her tanned cheeks.
"Yeah," Michael said, his voice flat. "Good night, Brooke."
"Good night."
The door closed behind him, and Michael closed his eyes, an anger he couldn't quite place sweeping over him. He wanted to burst into Irina's office. Demand to know why she'd sent Syd out with Sark and what her plans for the two of them were.
But he couldn't do that. He had to knock on Irina's door, wait for her to ask him to come in, and speak to her in a civil tone of voice. "I don't think we need to talk after all, Irina," he told her. Right now, he didn't think civility was something he could quite handle. Better keep conversation with her to a bare minimum. "I'm just so worried about Sydney."
Irina smirked. "She can take care of herself, Michael. You know that."
"Yes," he allowed. "But I have to admit that I don't exactly trust Sark yet."
"Trust is a tricky thing."
Where had he heard those words before? Of course. Weiss, right before Taipei. Had that been the last time they'd spoken? No. They'd had that horrific conversation on the phone. The one where Michael had told him to go to hell.
But Irina wasn't going to leave it there. "For instance, my daughter trusts you very much right now. It probably took you awhile to earn that trust. But I'll bet it would take no time at all to break it."
Michael's eyes flashed. "I would never do anything to betray Sydney's trust."
"No," Irina said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You'd just have her give up her whole life for you."
"We've been over this." It was all Michael could do to keep from shouting. "Sydney and I have been over this. We've both made our choices. We don't blame each other for them."
"Sure, you don't now," Irina said with a shrug. "You won't until you look back and see all that you've missed because of each other."
"What, exactly, have we missed?" Okay, that was it. He was shouting.
"Other opportunities," Irina said, a smile flickering across her face. "Other lovers."
"I don't want anyone but her!" Yep. Still shouting.
"So you say," Irina said. Still smiling, but her smile wasn't warm like Brooke's had been. It was cold. Mirthless. "I believe we're done here, Michael."
"Fine," Michael said, throwing the door open. "I'm going to bed."
"Alone?"
Michael froze. So maybe his paranoia had been valid, after all. He turned back to Irina, eyes flashing. "You bitch."
She didn't react to his remark except to laugh.
Michael had never heard an uglier sound.
