Chapter Two
AN: read my original Jaidel and leave a remark it makes me write more faster.
The King's Men
Her father was as good as dead. When Sloane had finally shown up and she'd been too distracted, to unfocused and hazy to do anything but destroy a damn clock and run again, he'd made sure to put enough holes in the place.
Honestly, she was amazed to get away with out a scrape.
Tonight seemed unreal to her. How things could change so quickly, and go so far out of her control... it just didn't seem possible.
But then it had always been a possibility.
She was clean; she'd been wandering for an hour just making sure of that fact. Sloane was smart but it seemed she had hit an incredible streak of luck. But that didn't mean she was willing to test it. Previous experience told her all lucky streaks came to an end, most ended before one would like. She wasn't about to be caught out in the streets of LA when hers ended.
Thus the dilemma. Who was she going to run to next?
The answer was painfully obvious. One phone call and she could be on her way to a new life.
Unfortunately however she was rather attached to her current life. Sydney Bristow may not have been the best of friends, always out of town and not very reliable. She may not have been the best student, missing class and handing in papers late. But that didn't make her any less of a person. She was who she was and she was not ready to go and reinvent that just yet.
Of course that would mean that sooner or later Sloane would hunt her down and her life wouldn't need to be reinvented because Sloane, the great and wonderful man that he was, wouldn't be able to find it in his heart to let her.
Coming across a pay phone she resigned herself to making the phone call. But a passing car caused her instead to run for the cover of the nearby ally. She was being painfully obvious, but there was no chance of her looking like a perfectly content citizen with a black evening gown on a piece of torn shirt, blood soaked, tied around her arm, and her bare feet. (The heels had been forgotten long ago.)
She was grateful enough that it was late and things were relatively quiet in this part of town.
The car's headlights illuminated a street sign, and for the first time since her blind flight from her father's she started taking in her surroundings.
She was glad now that her handler had insisted upon having her memorize a few addresses and numbers. There was a safe house right around the corner from where she was.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A phone call at this time of night only meant one thing.
Sydney.
Vaughn rolled over and reached blindly for the phone, fully expecting to hear her voice.
"Sydney's missing. Sloane is on to her. He had someone kill her roommate and Tippin."
It was not the voice he expected. Devlin in fact, was the last person he ever wanted to hear from at... rolling over he looked at his clock...two in the morning.
"Agent Vaughn did you hear a word of what I just said?" Devlin demanded.
Oh he'd heard it...something about...Sydney...Missing!
Vaughn sprang up in bed words tumbling out of his mouth.
"Does Sloane know who she's working for? What do you mean missing? Is she dead? What about her father? I'm on my way!"
Fighting with the sheets that clung to his legs, he kicked his way to freedom and placed his feet on the cool hard wood floor.
"Apparently Sloane isn't sure who she's working for and I just heard from Jack, apparently Sloane tried to get to her at his place. Both got out but he lost track of her in the mess. I need you to stay right where you are Agent Vaughn. There is nothing you can do here, and I don't' need another agent in the way."
"In the way! I'm her handler. I'm in charge of her. I should be there!" he answered amazed that Devlin had the nerve to tell him he'd be in the way. It was his job!
"You'll be kept informed. She'll call for extraction when she can. And if she doesn't..."
If she didn't then they were too late anyway.
Just as he was about to try and bargain his way into headquarters, Devlin hung up on him.
Sure. Now what was he supposed to do? Sleep?
The idea was more then laughable. The women he lo... The person he...
Well Sydney was in trouble. Running around this godforsaken excuse of a city, alone, most likely unarmed, with a madman on her tail.
And he was supposed to sit back and wait for something to happen.
He could deal with Devlin later; Sydney might not have a later if he didn't do something quickly.
The cool smooth surface of the floor brushed against his bare feet as he rushed to his closet. Flinging it open, he ripped the first items his hands brushed off of their hangers and flung them over his shoulder and onto the bed while hunting for the nearest pair of shoes. All the while trying to figure out where she might go.
He'd had her memorize a few addresses in case something like this happened, but he doubted she'd be eager to run to a CIA safe house unless she felt she was truly out of options. And that was something Vaughn highly doubted Sydney would ever feel. He knew she'd rather go down fighting then run away. Which only worried him more. She was not in any position to be taking on SD-6.
There was a knock on his door.
He knew who it was but he was having a hard time believing it.
There was one address he'd thrown in a few months ago, told her it was a new safe house, lied to her. Even Weiss would have turned his ass in if Vaughn had let his good buddy know he'd given Syd his home address in disguise.
When Syd found out... she'd be pissed.
Still it didn't matter how pissed she'd be, she'd be alive, and in his sight. She could have the Ebola virus and he wouldn't care as long as he could keep and eye on her.
Rushing to the door he flung it open and pulled a very disheveled and frightened excuse for a double agent into his apartment, quickly shutting the door behind him and locking it.
"Were you followed?"
"No. I... no..." She leaned heavily against the back of his leather sofa, her black flowing dress mixing with the black of the furniture.
It was then he noticed the contrasting white and red.
"Shit you're hurt." His fingers flew at the makeshift bandage, uncovering her wound. She remained silent and let him lead her to a seat on the couch behind her.
She watched him hurry out of the room and return with a first aid kit. Listened as he fussed with her wound, assured her it wasn't too bad. "Nothing that won't heal on it's own." Asked her if she was hurt anywhere else.
It was too bad there wasn't anything in his first aid kit to fix the shattered pieces of her soul.
She didn't cry though, she didn't scream out, rage against Sloane and vow for revenge. She instead sat quietly. Doing nothing except what Vaughn asked her to do. Saying nothing unless it was absolutely necessary. Letting the chill sink into the hollows of her skin, the once strong structure of her bones. Letting the cold wave of weariness wash over her and fill every empty plane.
"Sydney?" He was kneeling in front of her.
"How did you know I'd be here?" She finally asked, letting her mind start to take in her surroundings after he'd bandaged her arm and covered her almost bare shoulders with a blanket.
His face answered her question. His face and his attire, plaid pants and a t-shirt. His face and his attire, and the furnishings. This wasn't a safe house. This was his home.
"Vaughn you idiot! What the hell would have happened if I was followed huh?! I can't believe you'd do this!" She discarded the blanket as she flew to her feet, pushed him out of the way, and made her way to the door. "I can't stay here and put you in any more danger!"
Strong hands gripped her elbows from behind. "I'm not letting you leave."
"I can't loose you too! God I can't loose you too!" This time she felt tears sting her eyes. And memories of Francie and Will...and....
He caught her as she fell backwards into his arms in tears. Turned her around to face him as she murmured and sobbed. Her sharp cries of pain stinging him. Her mumbled, "I can't loose you too." tightened his arms around her.
"It's ok. I'm not going anywhere." He soothed as he pulled her toward the couch again. She offered no resistance and wearily plopped down next to him, resting her head on his shoulder, burying her face in his neck, and clinging to him as sobs racked her worn and freezing frame. He pulled the blanket tighter around her.
And they sat. Waiting.
If she had been followed they'd know it soon enough. And there wouldn't be much they could do about it.
Vaughn trusted that even in her emotional state she'd had the presence of mind to make sure she wasn't followed. He trusted even more in the fact that she'd made it to his apartment, clear on the other side of town. Sloane wanted her dead and he had enough power to shoot her in the middle of the street, in the middle of the day, and still get away with it. He wouldn't have hesitated.
And he wouldn't have let any door stand in the way.
If she had been followed they would have been dead.
After forty minutes of nothing, he decided that she'd shaken any tails.
The next thing to do would be to call his superiors and arrange a safe house for his guest. Fun thing though, those safe houses… With a mole in the CIA a safe house really didn't seem like the safest place for this agent. Especially when no one knew she was here, safe, with him. She'd said herself that Sloane didn't know who she was working for. Which likely meant that his face had not been entered into the equation.
Sloane would have had an address and an occupation if he had his face.
Someone had intercepted her last deadrop. It must have been one of Sloane's. He hadn't met with her since before the intercept, two weeks to be exact. Which meant that if Sloane had been recently informed of Sydney's double agent status, he might not be in the picture at all. Which would make his apartment the safest place she could be.
Safe because no one would be looking. Safe because he knew he could keep her safe. Maybe he was being stupid but he didn't trust anyone else with the task. And moving her was just another risk of exposure.
No it was better if she stayed with him for a while, stayed out of sight until things settled a bit. Then they could smuggle her wherever they needed to. Then she could get a new identity. When Sloane wasn't looking.
With the matter firmly resolved in his mind he cast his eyes down on the woman resting in his arms.
She was sleeping. Amazingly enough.
He tried not to feel that warm glow, the one that she gave him in the quiet moments they spent together. The one he felt when she complimented him on his plans. The one he felt when he knew there was something unprofessional about their behavior.
She was tired. That was all. She was tired and had been through as much of hell in one night as anyone could be expected to handle. It meant nothing that she was in his arms tonight and not somewhere else. It meant even less that she trusted him enough to relax and eventually sleep by his side.
She was tired.
Still he couldn't help but feel a small amount of that glow resting on him as he cradled her in his arms and walked her to his bed. Slipping her small form under the covers and tucking her in.
Her hair resting on his pillow, the way she slept so peacefully…
He swallowed a lump in his throat as the urge to kiss her cheek, slide in next to her and hold her hit him like a semi.
He had failed to think of that aspect.
Maybe his place wasn't the safest place after all. It'd be fine for her.
But what about him.