Author's Note: Since the mission is a copycat of the one in "The Prophecy," I had to re-watch that episode in order to write this chapter.  It's actually not clear to me how they get into the sewer through that building where the girl is singing, but I tried to follow it as closely as possible.  Some details were changed for dramatic purposes.

Once again, thanks to all the people who keep reading and reviewing.  I really do appreciate the fact that you're still interested in the story.  But take heart, the finish line is in sight, folks!

See ya later!

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The mission was scheduled to commence late that afternoon. A van with all of the necessary equipment was dropped off across the street from the hotel as planned, so all they had to do was get in and change into their workmen's jumpsuits while Sark drove them to the same musical conservatory they had visited a few months earlier.

Sark appeared to have gotten over his earlier outburst and was actually in an upbeat mood for him. Sydney still wasn't quite so sure that they could trust him, but she knew he took her threat of bodily harm seriously, so her uneasiness over him tagging along with them was slightly abated.

Sydney and Vaughn made quick work of their wardrobe change in the back of the van. As she gathered her hair back into a sleek ponytail, Sydney watched Vaughn pulling on his boots. Damn, but he could even make that ugly blue jumpsuit look good and she told him so, delighting when he blushed.

"I hate jumpsuits." Vaughn remarked dryly. "They're so seventies."

"Oh, don't tell me you wore jumpsuits when you were a kid!" Sydney laughed at him. "Does your mother have any photos?"

"If she does, I'm going to tell her to burn them before you can get your hands on them." He quipped and she laughed again.

"We're here!" Sark called from the front of the van as the vehicle pulled to a stop. Vaughn scooted across the floor of the van to open the back doors. He climbed out first and then gave her a hand to help her out.

While Vaughn unloaded the equipment, Sark took Sydney aside to give her a comm unit and a lipstick camera to wear on her headlamp.

"Why are these necessary?" Sydney asked him impatiently. 

"You may need to communicate with me, Sydney." Sark replied. "And the camera is to ensure that you don't do anything that might bring undue attention to yourselves."

"Oh, you mean like accidentally sounding the alarm on purpose?" She said sarcastically.

"I would think that would be rather beneficial for you, wouldn't it?" Her brother said archly. "If the security officers caught you in the act?"

Sydney gave him a sharp look, alarmed by his insinuation. Did Sark know more about their plans than he should have?

Before she could respond, Vaughn distracted her by calling out in Italian, "Are you ready?"

She had to settle for giving Sark a menacing glare. "Stay put. If all goes well, we should be back within the hour." She said curtly.

Sark's eyes were hooded as he met her gaze unflinchingly. "I'll be waiting for you, Sydney."

Sydney felt vaguely unsettled by the vibe he was giving off, but she didn't have time to dwell on it. She hurried around to the back of the van.

"We all set?" Vaughn asked her.

Sydney nodded, her stomach suddenly feeling as if it were tied up in knots. "Michael?" She said anxiously.

"Yeah, Syd?" He gave her a questioning look.

She wanted to voice her fears, but there was simply nothing she could put her finger on. It was just a general feeling of unease that he would probably chalk up to nerves. Sydney could almost buy that explanation if it weren't for the fact that she usually didn't feel this apprehensive before a mission. "I just want to tell you that I love you." She whispered.

Vaughn's face softened. "I love you, too, sweetie." He squeezed her hand and then bent down to pick up their equipment.

They headed into the conservatory, which was deserted at this late in the day. They encountered no one as they headed down the circular stairway towards the basement, so they were able to sneak in undetected. A few moments were spent blowtorching an opening that would take them down into the sewer.

As Sydney was preparing to climb down the ladder, Vaughn caught hold of her arm. "Sydney, wait."

She gave him an expectant look. "What is it, Michael?"

He hesitated a moment. "Um, Syd, if anything happens down there--"

"But it won't." Sydney interrupted.

"I know, but if it does, I want you to promise me something." Vaughn gave her a serious look. "I want you to promise that you'll get out at the first sign of trouble."

"Of course." She assured him. "Right after I make sure that you're one step behind me."

"No, Sydney, you know that's not what I meant." His forehead creased into a frown. "Look, I made a promise to your mother that I would always put your safety ahead of my own and while I know it was an oath made under a certain amount of duress, it's actually one promise I intend to keep."

"Michael…" She didn't know what to say.

"Sydney." His voice was firm. "Promise me." His green eyes were boring intently into hers. When he looked at her like that, she was powerless to protest.

"All right." She nodded. "I promise."

Vaughn gave her a satisfied smile and then kissed her, his lips warm and sweet against hers. "Now get going."

As they descended into the darkness of the sewer, Sydney could tell that something was different this time. She could hear the sound of rushing water as they made their way carefully down the iron rungs that were attached to the smooth surface of the wall.

"Oh, God!" She yelped as she jumped down to the ground, knee-deep in some disgusting muck. The smell was horrible and she hurriedly pulled on her face mask to cover her nose and mouth.

"Well, this is unexpected, isn't it?" Vaughn's voice was muffled through his mask. "Although I guess it shouldn't be considering it is a sewer."

"Michael, the stench in here is making me ill." Sydney complained. "I hope this isn't going to cause problems when we blast through the wall again."

Sydney and Vaughn worked quickly to set up the explosive device. Thankfully, their firepower this time was of the sort that could be attached to the wall and it was rigged to detonate by a remote control so that they could position themselves far enough away before setting off the blast. Sydney did a short countdown and then pushed the button, closing her eyes as she did so. Vaughn instinctively shielded her with his body as the bomb went off.

The ground rumbled and the walls shook, but when they turned back around, there was a gaping hole where the wall had been. Sewage started to seep in through the cavity at a quick pace. Sydney tried not to breathe too deeply as she scrambled after Vaughn into the air duct which led directly into the underground vault.

Once they were inside the vault, Sydney went through the nerve-wracking process of disabling the alarm system again, breaking her somewhat dubious record from the last time they were there. Now it was just a matter of finding the painting.

They split up in the vault, figuring that they could cover more ground that way. Sydney's eyes were darting this way and that as she scampered about the dimly lit storage area, scanning each crate and box and carton for the desired inventory number.

She was in the back recesses of the vault when she spotted the crate stamped with the number 4747. Sydney brought out her crowbar in order to pry open the wooden slats, struggling a bit as she tried to loosen the nails from the wood. After a few minutes of grunting and straining, she had removed enough of the inch-thick planks so that she could extract the portrait from its crate.

Sydney took a moment to wipe the sweat from her brow, paying no mind as she knocked her headlamp off her head, and then hurriedly removed the protective blanket to examine the portrait. It was the same one her mother had shown them a few nights earlier. Letting out a sigh of relief, she used her knife to deftly separate the canvas from its frame and then stuffed the painting into a waterproof container.

Just as Sydney was about to call out to Vaughn, she heard a shout and a smattering of belligerent-sounding Italian. Her heart started to pound in her chest.

"Damn it." She muttered under her breath.

"What is it?" Sark suddenly barked in her ear. Sydney was startled by his voice, having forgotten she was even wearing the damn comm device.

"Michael and I were separated in the vault and I think he just got nabbed by security." She replied, keeping her voice extremely low.

"Do you have the painting?"

"Yes."

"Then get out of there now." Sark ordered her.

"Without Michael?" Sydney panicked.

"Sydney, if your boyfriend was careless enough to get caught, then he is no longer of any consequence to us." His tone was ruthless. "You, on the other hand, are in possession of what you were sent to retrieve and since you still have the option to escape, I suggest you do so immediately!"

"I can't go without him!" She hissed.

"Sydney, do you want me to have to tell Mother that your loyalty to her only extends so far? That you put your own questionable desires for your lover above the bigger needs of the organization?" Sark threatened evilly. "When will you get it through your thick head that your so-called greatest love story ever told is not the issue here? We're here on a mission! And your mission entails getting exactly what Irina wants!"

Sydney clamped her hand over the microphone she was wearing so that Sark wouldn't be able to hear her. "Do you think I give a damn what Irina wants?" She cried out softly in frustration. "All I care about is being with Michael!"

"Sydney, the security forces will soon be swarming down there." Sark's voice was cold. "Get out of there now or you'll suffer the consequences with Irina!"

Sydney was being torn in two by her moment of indecision. If she left now, there was a good chance she would never see Vaughn again. He'd have no choice but to call in his CIA connections in order to get out of this one and the Agency would eagerly sweep him back into the fold. She knew he would move heaven and earth to try to find her again, but Irina would think he had switched back over to the good guys and she would use all of her power and influence to never let him be reunited with Sydney.

But if she didn't leave--if she went after Vaughn--Irina would come gunning for them with both barrels on the grounds that they had deserted her and shunned her organization. There would be a price on both of their heads and they would never have a moment's peace for the rest of their lives, however long that might be.

What choice did she have? Logically, there was only one. Sydney knew she would suffer tremendously without Vaughn by her side and no doubt cry herself to sleep every night as she wished he was holding her in his arms, but at least he would be out of harm's way. Irina was a master at keeping underground; Vaughn might search for them for years and years without success, which just might be enough to keep him alive.

But if she followed her heart, they were as good as dead and she couldn't bear the thought of his blood being on her hands. She loved him too much to end his life simply because of her selfish need to be with him. If she let him go, he'd be safe and knowing that would be enough for her.

Besides which, Sydney couldn't forget about the promise she had made to him. If this truly was the last thing she would ever do for him, the least she could do was to honor her word. She owed him that much after everything he had done for her and for the great love he had given her.

With tears spilling from her eyes, Sydney made a quick retreat back through the air duct and haphazardly replaced the screen behind her. She could barely see where she was going as she crawled through the metal tube and had to stop several times to wipe a grimy sleeve across her face.

Sydney finally reached the end of the vent and slithered out. When she hit the ground, the backsplash resulted in her being splattered with bits of slime and goo as the watery contents of the sewer swirled around her kneecaps. She let out a stream of angry curse words as something foul-smelling found a place on her cheek. Sydney hastily wiped whatever it was from her face and as she waded back into the sewer, a horrendous realization hit her and she let out another agonized groan. She had left her headlamp--her only light source--back in the vault.

"Damn you, Sark, and damn Irina, too!" Sydney yelled out into the dank, cavernous, tomblike structure. She heard a rather amused snort from Sark and ripped the comm unit out of her ear, heaving it as far away from her as she could. The plopping sound it made as it hit the water some distance away from her was the only satisfying moment she had had all evening. Maybe it was a foolish move on her part to completely cut herself off from outside contact, but at that moment, Sydney preferred dying in that hellhole rather than listening to her brother cackle in her ear for one more second.

Okay, now what? She asked herself, willing herself to stay calm. It was pitch black and she couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Her mind was scrambled at the prospect of being separated from Vaughn and she was having a hard time thinking clearly. Sydney tried to remember the path they had taken to get to this point. She knew she had to stay as close to the wall as possible; there was a narrow ledge upon which she could walk, but it would be tricky since her boots were slippery and there was nothing on the walls that she could grasp. One misstep and she just might be swallowed up into the revolting maelstrom of ick churning around her.

While Sydney was contemplating that thoroughly nauseating circumstance, something suddenly fell on top of her head and she yelped in surprise. Her hand went immediately to knock whatever it was off of her head and she nearly screamed again as her fingers made contact with a small, compact animal that had a long, skinny tail. Thank God she was wearing gloves as she flailed her arms and the rodent fell to the ground, skittering across her boots as he ran away.

Sydney gave an obvious shudder and took a moment to collect herself. She didn't think of herself as a particularly girly girl when it came to spiders or snakes and the like, but there was just something about rats that gave her the willies. Maybe it was because of something she'd read before, about how they could collapse their spines and crawl under closed doors. She'd actually had a nightmare once about waking up in bed to find a rat sitting on her chest, just staring at her with his beady little eyes. It had freaked her out so much that when she and Francie had had that rat problem a few months ago, she had been only too glad to let Will take care of it, so that she didn't have to think about it at all.

Sydney started to plow through the muck. She was so distraught about the rats and Sark and Vaughn that it was difficult to keep her mind focused on the task at hand, which was to find her way back to the iron rungs that led up into the basement of the conservatory. If only she wasn't hurting so much. After everything she and Vaughn had gone through to finally be together, it was so much more painful to realize that it was all totally lost to her now. She would have nothing but the lovely memories of a few brief weeks to sustain her for the rest of her miserable life.

Sydney was so deep in despair that she didn't even realize it when the ledge she was walking on abruptly ended. Unable to get a firm grip on any part of the slimy, slippery walls, she lost her footing and fell backwards, landing awkwardly as she hit her tailbone on the ledge before sinking up to her waist into the rank sewage water. She cried out, as much in frustration as in pain. No doubt she had probably acquired a new set of bruises all over her backside, but what did that matter now? The black-and-blue marks would fade in a few weeks, but the ache she had in her heart would be with her forever.

She struggled to her feet and started sloshing her way through the sewage waste once again. But somehow Sydney had lost her bearings when she fell and she overshot the point at which they'd entered the sewer. It was like playing Blind Man's Bluff as she tried to run her hands over every inch of the wall in order to find that first iron bar. Minutes passed--she didn't know long it had been since she'd left the vault--and she began to feel hopelessly lost.

By the time her gloved hand finally wrapped around a curved iron rung, Sydney was so thankful she almost wept. She was wet and tired and grungy and didn't exactly smell lemon-fresh. A bath sounded heavenly at that moment and she desperately wanted to wash her hair to remove any lingering traces of Eau de Rat.

As Sydney leaned against the damp slime of the wall to catch her breath, the irony of the situation suddenly hit her. She thought back to that awful night in Taipei when she thought Vaughn had died in the warehouse and realized she had come full circle. Here she was again, weary and cold and dirty, in dire need of a hosing down and seemingly separated from Vaughn forever.

But she couldn't think of that now. If she let herself break down, she feared she would collapse into a heap and she would never be able to get up again.

Pushing all other thoughts out of her head, Sydney started climbing.

To be continued…