Author's Note: Hi everyone, just some thoughts: Please remember this is AU, so what's happened since the beginning of Season 2 does not apply.  Just wanted to clarify the whole Sydney-never-being-shot-before thing beforehand.

Also, I'm taking creative liberties as to Vaughn's location, ie. what he does and where he ends up after hearing the gunshot.  It's not really a big deal, but while some details of St. Peter's Basilica are factual (I visited the Vatican once), everything else is just for dramatic purposes.

Here you go with the final chapter!

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As she watched Sark pull the trigger on his gun, Sydney had the odd sensation that she had entered into some sort of time warp, where everything happened in slow motion. She knew it wasn't possible, but it was almost as if she could literally see the bullets as they came barreling out of the gun with her body as their intended target.

The first one hit her in the right thigh and it made her gasp as a white-hot pain shot through leg. In her line of work, dodging stray bullets was a work hazard she regularly dealt with, but this was the first time she had ever been hit and it was more agonizing than she had ever thought possible.

The second bullet ripped into her right shoulder and the upper half of her body fell hard against the ground as the bullet tore through her jumpsuit and blood began to seep from her wound. Sydney clenched her teeth together to keep herself from crying out as she writhed on the ground in pain. She was not going to give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing her beg for her life.

"So what are you waiting for?" Sydney barked at him, struggling to sit up. "Why don't you finish me off?"

"Why, Sydney, what kind of brother do you think I am?" Sark gave her a wounded look. "I wouldn't harm a hair on your head."

"But apparently the rest of me is fair game?" She spat at him.

A little smile appeared on Sark's face, highlighted by the dim glow of the streetlamps. "Sydney, I'm only giving you what you want."

"Which is what?" She narrowed her eyes at him. "To walk with a limp for the rest of my life?"

"I'm giving you your freedom." Her brother declared.

Sydney was so stunned by his answer that she almost--but not quite--forgot about the two gunshot holes in her body. "My freedom?" She repeated uncomprehendingly.

"You never fooled me, you know." Sark said haughtily. "Mother fell for your little act as hard as she did because she so desperately wanted to believe that you'd forgiven her for leaving you when you were a child. She was so eager to have you back in her life that it clouded her judgment."

"That's why she couldn't see it." He mused. "But I did. I knew that someone with such a high moral code would never be comfortable with the idea of being next in line to take over an international crime syndicate."

"How could you know that?" She asked him warily. "You don't know me. Not really."

Sark shook his head. "I've known you since the beginning of my existence, Sydney. Your life history has been firmly embedded into my brain from the day I was born."

"I told you once that Irina would wax eloquently about her fantastically brilliant daughter to anyone who would listen." His lip curled. "You hear something enough times and it doesn't take a genius to realize what the score is. I knew she favored you." Sark's voice was hostile. "But I never thought it would matter because the last thing I ever expected was for you to be reunited with our mother." 

"And then you showed up in Taipei to rescue your friend." He gave a weary sigh. "Like an idiot, I didn't realize until much later that that was the real reason why Mother had me kidnap Mr. Tippin. A simpleton reporter like him wouldn't have known anything significant about our plans. It had all been just a ploy to get you to Taipei. Irina knew that your unflagging loyalty and devotion to the people you care about would fuel your desire to rescue him."

"But she didn't know that Michael and I would be at the warehouse to take down The Circumference." Sydney protested. "How could she have planned my abduction if she didn't know where I would be?"

"Mother knew that if Mr. Tippin was aware of The Circumference, he had to have been told by someone, most likely your father." Sark explained. "Since the CIA likes to kill two birds with one stone, it wasn't such a stretch to figure out that you would at least attempt to destroy the device."

"I suppose it hardly matters now if I told you that there was no way you would have gotten out of the warehouse without being apprehended." Her brother told her. "Mother had armed guards at every exit. She was waiting for you."

"So it was her plan all along to capture me and force me to work with her." Sydney said in a quiet voice.

"And I knew what that meant for me." Sark said defensively. "I would be cast aside, prohibited from taking my rightful place as Irina's heir apparent."

Sydney gazed up at her defiant younger brother with a stony expression on her face. "Sark, you just told me that you knew I would never want to become what Irina has become." She paused, wincing as she tried to keep the pressure on her wounded leg. Unfortunately, it meant her shoulder wasn't getting the attention it needed and she was vaguely aware that the front of her jumpsuit was now stained a bright crimson red. "You're right about me. I never would have taken over for her. I don't have it in me to be as cruel or as heartless as she is. I can't turn off my emotions as easily as she can."

Sark gave her his familiar smug look.

"So why was all this necessary?" Her voice took on an almost pleading tone. "Why did my brother plan my execution over something he knew I never wanted, anyway?"

"Didn't I just say I never intended to kill you?" He said exasperatedly. "I may resent you, Sydney, but we have the same blood running through our veins and if there's one thing I believe in, it's that you don't turn on family."

"No, you only maim them slightly." She said sarcastically. "So what happens now? You've already got me sprawled on the ground. Should I be kissing your feet in gratitude for this selfless act you've perpetrated?" Her voice was harsh. "Forgive me if I'm not showering you with praise over the fact that you shot your own sister as a token of your twisted version of brotherly love!"

"No, of course I realize that my methods are not to your liking, Sydney." Sark replied coolly, infuriating Sydney as he uttered the understatement of the year. "But look at it this way, Sis. My plan is brilliant in that we both get what we want. You get your life back and I retain my rightful place in the organization."

Sark eyed her speculatively, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "Everything that Irina has is mine, Sydney." His voice was deadly quiet, but still menacing. "I know she had delusions of giving it all to you even if you didn't want it, but that won't happen now. I've seen to that."

God, he sounded so damn smug! His self-proclaimed "brilliant" plan had worked like a charm and she was ashamed to admit that a small part of her was irked about it. "Sark, tell me how you did it. How did you find me?" Her words came swiftly and urgently.

"I left my headlamp in the vault and I couldn't find my way back to our original entry point. Where we are now isn't anywhere near where the van was, so how did you do it?" Sydney was curious in spite of herself and at least if she kept talking, she wouldn't pass out from the pain.

"It was ridiculously simple, Sis." Sark grinned at her. "I knew about the isotopes. That's how I tracked you through the sewer. I knew where you would come up."

"Of course, I was a little worried when you were taking longer than I expected." His voice was full of false concern. "But I had every confidence in the world that my smart, resourceful big sister would triumph once again over adversity." He sneered.

"You knew about the isotopes?" Sydney looked at him disbelievingly. It was apparent now that she hadn't given him the credit he obviously deserved. "How?"

"Have you forgotten that they were used on me, Sydney? It's a fairly standard practice these days when you're trying to keep tabs on someone." Sark explained in a know-it-all-tone of voice. "Your father slipped them to you in Taipei when you hugged him. That's why you broke ranks even though Irina told you not to make contact with him."

"But how did you know my father would do such a thing?" She asked with an incredulous expression on her face. "You don't know him. You don't know anything about him!"

"It was something Mother once said. She said that your father would do anything for you and I knew she meant that quite literally. Any man as devoted as he would surely resort to whatever means necessary in order to save his daughter." Sark was actually impressed by Jack Bristow's fatherly devotion to his only child and didn't bother to hide it. "I know he's a very smart man and I know you know that, too. You had every reason to believe that he would have something up his sleeve and you were right."

"I envy you that, you know. That innate sense that you can depend on someone so absolutely and completely." Sark looked a bit wistful. "Lord knows I will never have that kind of relationship with my own father." His voice was a tad bitter.

To her utter disbelief, Sydney almost felt sorry for Sark at that moment and that was something she never thought would happen. In spite of the fact that he was the reason she was lying on the ground writhing in pain, for the first time, she felt as if this man standing over her really was her brother. Even though none of their parents were dead and gone, they both had experienced long stretches of their childhood without one or both of their parents. They both had gone through the same periods of loneliness and isolation from others. That realization became a sort of bond in itself; an awareness that their life experiences weren't as disparate as they thought they were.

Sydney wondered what their relationship would have been like if they had been born into a different family. Would she have grown to love him or would he always have been a thorn in her side? That was a question to which she would never know the answer.

"What are you planning to tell Irina?" Sydney tried to prop herself up and gasped again. She was starting to feel weak and light-headed from the loss of blood. If help didn't arrive soon, she might slowly bleed to death.

"I'll tell her you were shot trying to leave the vault and when you were unable to escape, you were captured and turned over to the local authorities." Sark had it all planned out down to the sorrowful expression he would present to Irina as he told his tale of woe. "She'll be upset, but she'll get over it eventually."

"Do you really think she'll be so indifferent about the fact that I'm gone?" Sydney raised an eyebrow. "You said it yourself that I'm her sole reason for living." She sneered at him sarcastically.

"Are you really so concerned about Mother's feelings, Sydney?" Sark's lips twisted as he taunted her. "I realize that she will feel your loss quite deeply, but I'm confident that with her loving son's concern and support, she will get through it in an admirable fashion." He drawled.

Sydney's eyes narrowed. "Right, and of course she won't ever suspect her loving son's part in all of this."

"Of course not." Sark replied, looking ridiculously pleased with himself.

Sydney was suddenly feeling too drained to fight with him any longer. Maybe Sark was right. Maybe she should be grateful to him. In his own perverse way, he was giving her something she had longed for ever since that first night when she found herself shackled to a chair in Taipei. He was giving her the chance to reclaim her life, such as it was.

Sydney knew it would be no picnic for her when she got back home. She still had to deal with Dixon and face possible questions from Sloane. She would have to console and support Will through his own crisis as well as keep up her false front around Francie. The possibility of an inquisition by the CIA for the whole Taipei debacle might also be in the works.

But on the bright side, she was hopeful that her relationship with her father would somehow be strengthened by the separation they had had to endure. Sydney felt that they had come to a new understanding of sorts in where their relationship as father and daughter had been and where they wanted it to go. She wanted to forge a closer bond with Jack and for the first time in a long time, it looked as if he wanted that to happen as well.

And then there was Michael. Her gorgeous, sweet, sexy Michael. Sydney couldn't think of him without smiling and even in the midst of all her pain, he was still able to cause the corners of her mouth to turn up. She loved him so much, more than she had ever thought possible. She desperately wished he were here with her right now. Just having him by her side would be as comforting as wrapping herself in a warm blanket on a cold winter's night.  

"I'm sorry I can't stay any longer, Sydney, but someone may be along to investigate the gunshots soon and I can't risk getting caught." To his surprise, Sark felt a bit of a twinge as he looked down on his sister, briefly alarmed when her body started to convulse as she went into shock.


"I know it looks like a lot of blood, but I think they're only flesh wounds." He felt awkward as he tried to reassure her that her injuries weren't as serious as they looked. Without knowing exactly why, Sark suddenly removed his jacket and bent down to place it around Sydney's shoulders. "I have a feeling that help is nearby, Sydney." He murmured softly in her ear before straightening up again.

"So long, Big Sister." Sark said in parting "I won't say goodbye because I know our paths will cross again, perhaps in the very near future."

As he started to walk away, Sydney summoned all of the strength she had left in her body in order to call out his name. "Sergei!" She knew her use of his given name would stop him in his tracks.

Sark turned back around to look at her, a questioning expression on his face.

"I'm still not sure why you're doing this," She said slowly. "But thank you."

His mouth quirked, but not into his usual smirk. He almost looked as if he was going to say something halfway decent to her, but then they heard a shout in the distance. Sark looked up, his eyes alert, and then he bade her a quick salute before taking off.

Sydney wanted to find out who or what had scared Sark off, but she was fading fast. The pain wracking her body was too unbearable for words and all she wanted to do was to escape from it. It became so all-consuming that she was not even aware as she slumped to the ground and slipped into unconsciousness, releasing her from her suffering and freeing her from the act of feeling.

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The moment the shot rang out, Vaughn bolted out of his chair as if he had been shot out of a cannon. He didn't know where he was supposed to go, but just kept yelling, "Where's the exit? Where's the exit?" and the people he encountered simply pointed him in the right direction.

He was disoriented coming out of the fluorescently lit hallway into the eerily quiet Basilica. For a few brief moments, Vaughn stopped to catch his breath and take stock of his surroundings. The scope of the Basilica's interior was truly massive and he felt dwarfed as he gazed up into the dome that rose several stories above his head. He had been to the Vatican a number of times as a tourist and if he remembered correctly, there were several doors from which to exit near the statue of Michelangelo's Pieta. Vaughn said a little prayer (this being an appropriate place for it) and then made a mad dash down one of the aisles, his hurried footsteps the only noise in the cavernous building.

Vaughn pushed open a heavy wooden door with all of his might and found himself standing outside under the cover of nightfall. It had been late afternoon when he and Sydney had arrived several hours before, but now he had only the moonlight to guide him.

He realized he was at the top of the steps in front of the Basilica. The immense portico of St. Peter's Square lay at his feet, the doric columns encircling the piazza like a mother's arms embracing her child. He looked beyond the Egyptian obelisk in the center of the square and saw the two figures spotlighted in the shadow of the moon. One of them was standing and one of them…was on the ground. He started running.

See, Syd, I can make tracks if I have to! He didn't find it the least bit strange that he was running harder to save her life now than he had to save his own life back in Taipei. Truth was, his life would mean nothing without Sydney. Sark might just as well shoot him, too.

Sark ran off when he saw Vaughn coming towards them. He wanted to give chase--to make the bastard pay--but he knew that Jack was close on his heels and he could go after Sark as only an avenging father could.

Vaughn slowed before he reached the figure lying on the ground. Jack caught up to him a few moments later and passed him.

"Take care of Sydney!" He yelled. "I've got him!"

Vaughn knew that if Sydney was hurt, every moment counted, but for some reason, his feet wouldn't move. If she was gone, he didn't want to face it. He could see a pool of fluid, something dark and shiny in the moonlight, gathering into a puddle by her right knee. Blood, he thought grimly, her blood. Her life was draining away and he was doing nothing to stop it.

Vaughn shook his head as if to jolt himself out of his stupor and crossed the last few remaining steps to Sydney's side. He knelt down, a frown creasing his face as he noticed that she was wearing a man's jacket. Sark's?

"Syd?" His voice trembled, somewhere between a whisper and a croak. In the meantime, Weiss had arrived, but he stayed back, calling for an ambulance on his cell phone.

She gave him no reply. His hand shaking, Vaughn reached out and placed his fingers against the side of her neck, fearful of what he might (or in this case, might not) find.

Thank God! Her pulse was weak, but at least it was still there. The clamminess of her skin horrified him, however, and he realized her unconscious state was probably due to the fact that she had gone into shock as a result of an extreme loss of blood. A cloud suddenly passed over the moon, temporarily making the night even darker than it already was and Vaughn panicked when he couldn't tell where she had been hit. If the bullet had nicked an artery, then Sydney had to get to a hospital right away so that they could stop the bleeding.

"Mike, the ambulance is on its way." Weiss told him in a hushed voice. "Here, take this to keep her warm." He shrugged out of his suit jacket.

Vaughn spread his friend's jacket across Sydney's upper torso. "Thanks, Eric." He was cradling Sydney's head in his lap, her satiny brown hair fanned out just as it had against the white silk pillowcase that had been on their bed that morning. Had it just been a few hours ago that he had woken up in bed beside her for the first time, marveling that the exquisite creature lying next to him was finally and truly his? Sydney always looked gorgeous in her designer gowns and expertly applied makeup, but to him, she had never looked more beautiful than she did waking up next to him, her face scrubbed and her hair tousled and a radiant smile on her face.

"Sydney, baby, please wake up! Please, sweetie, can you do that for me?" Vaughn had a sudden flashback to when he had been seemingly dead to the world back in Taipei. He believed without a doubt that hearing Sydney's voice had brought him back. "Syd? Do you remember the guest house at your mother's estate in Taipei? You know how I told you I heard you talking to me? Well, I'm going to do the same thing for you. I'm going to bring you back just like you did for me." He knew he was babbling, but he didn't give a damn if he sounded like some raving lunatic.

"I love you, Sydney." His tone was fierce, masking his feelings of dread and desperation.  "I love you as I have never loved anyone in my entire life. I don't think my life began until I met you and if you leave me, I don't think I could go on." Vaughn was speaking to her from his heart, as honestly as he knew how to be.

"I know it sounds corny, but you make me want to get up in the morning." He said seriously, his eyes sad. "You're the reason I went to work everyday, partly because I knew I would get to see you, but also because each day brought us one step closer to bringing down SD-6. Everything we did meant we were one step closer to our future together."

"And we can still have that future, Sydney. It'll take time, but we'll have it if you just stay with me. You remember how we talked about the house and the lawn and the four bedrooms we needed to fill?" Vaughn was still having trouble believing that they had been in a state of absolute bliss that very morning. It seemed like a lifetime ago. "Our kids will be so beautiful, Syd. If we have a girl, I insist that she look just like you with big brown eyes and silky brown hair. She'll be a champion kickboxer by the time she's six years old and I won't ever have to worry about any boy taking advantage of her." He let out a sound that was halfway between a sob and a chuckle, thinking that Sydney would like to have a daughter who was as kickass as she was.

"And if we have a boy, he'll definitely have to love hockey like his old man. I won't say I hope he looks like me--" Sydney suddenly stirred in his arms and his heart leapt in his chest. "Syd?" His voice cracked.

"Michael?" Her voice sounded faint.

Sydney hadn't realized she had passed out until she heard Vaughn's voice weaving a nice little tapestry in her brain. He was telling her a wonderful story about a big house and a nice green lawn and lots of children running around. She could picture it in her mind so vividly. Sydney wanted something along the lines of a beautiful old Victorian mansion; she didn't care for anything modern, with glass walls or steel beams or odd angles. She would plant an English cottage-style garden in the backyard with lots and lots of flowers and maybe even add a vegetable patch or two, much to the dismay of the children, who would be like all little kids with their intense dislike of spinach and Brussels sprouts. She could see Vaughn coming home from work and complaining that the kids had left their bicycles in the driveway again, which meant he couldn't park inside the garage without getting out of the car in order to move them. But knowing Vaughn as she did, she knew he wouldn't be able to stay angry at them for long, especially if one of them was a little girl with long straight brown hair and solemn-looking brown eyes.

And of course, she would always stick up for an adorable little boy with sandy brown hair and beautiful green eyes like his dad.

"Oh, thank God." Vaughn murmured, swiping his hand across his face to wipe away the tears he hadn't even realized were falling.

"Michael, our…little…boy?" Her breathing became labored as she struggled to remain conscious.

"Yes, sweetie, what about him?" Vaughn tried to put on a brave smile for her.

"I…would want him…to look…like…you." Sydney replied with great effort.

Vaughn's heart flip-flopped. "Sydney, what happened? Can you tell me where were you were hit?"

"My…leg…and…my shoulder." She tried to show him and winced in the process. "It hurts, Michael." She whimpered.

"I know, baby, I know." He crooned, moving his hand to gingerly inspect her leg. Her right thigh was wet and sticky. "Weiss, hand me your Swiss army knife." He asked his friend, who carried the knife with him at all times because you never knew when a good bottle of wine would need opening. Vaughn flicked open the knife implement and grabbed the hem of Sydney's right pantleg. He notched a slit in the fabric and tore the leg of her jumpsuit until he reached her thigh, grimacing as she flinched beneath his touch even though he was trying to be extra-gentle. He muttered an apology to her and then wrapped the ripped pantleg around her wound, hoping that it would stopgap the bleeding until the ambulance arrived.

Then Vaughn turned his attention to her shoulder. He removed the jacket from around her shoulders and let out a stream of curse words when he saw the damage Sark's bullet had wrought. It appeared Sydney had been unable to tend to both of her wounds (a bit hard to do as she had been lying on her side when he found her, which effectively cut off the use of one arm) and as a result, she had lost a copious amount of blood from her shoulder. He spied the dark bloodstains that had soaked both the front and back of her jumpsuit as well as a good part of her sleeve and directed a few more choice expletives at Sydney's little brother. Vaughn immediately started slashing at the expensive Italian-made suit jacket with Weiss' knife, relishing the sound of the ripping fabric as he shredded the coat into bandages he could use in order to keep Sydney from losing any more blood.

"Where's…Sark?" She breathed heavily.

"The son of a bitch ran off when he saw me coming." Vaughn growled. "I swear if I ever get my hands on him--"

"No…Michael." Sydney cut him off, shaking her head.

"Syd, that asshole tried to kill his own sister!" He cried out. Maybe the pain was making her delirious. "I know you never bonded with the guy, so how can you defend him?"

"Not…kill." It was all she could do to get the words out.

"Yeah, lucky for him he was a lousy shot!" Vaughn fumed, misunderstanding her. "Well, you just wait until Jack gets hold of him! I can assure you that your father will get in more than just a couple of shots at the guy!"

"My father's…here?"

Vaughn nodded. "He went after Sark."

"No!" Sydney wailed, shaking violently and grimacing through the pain. "Michael, call him back!" She begged.

"Syd…" Vaughn was baffled by her reaction.

"Please!" She said imploringly.

"Okay, okay, just calm down, sweetie." He said comfortingly and looked over his shoulder. "Eric, will you go find Jack and tell him Sydney wants him?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Vaughn nodded. He turned his attention back to Sydney. "Okay, Syd, Eric's gone to go find your father."

Her eyes closed in relief. "Thank you."

"Sydney, I don't understand." He looked puzzled. "Sark is the one who shot you, isn't he?"

She nodded silently.

"So why do you not want us to go after him?"

Sydney opened her eyes again and looked straight into his. "Michael, he knew."

"Knew what?"

"He knew…we wanted…to escape." She enunciated through gritted teeth.

"What?" Vaughn was bewildered by her declaration. "How?"

"It's a long story." Her face contorted as if the simple act of speaking was too much for her.

"You don't have to tell me now, Syd." He said quickly, wanting to spare her any further discomfort. "Save your strength."

She nodded in assent. "But that's why he shot me. He's going to tell Irina I was hurt and couldn't get away."

A realization suddenly dawned on him. "That's why he called Eric." He said softly.

"What? Who called?" Sydney said, confused.

"Eric received a tip from an anonymous caller, telling him where we would be tonight." Vaughn explained to her. "That's why we couldn't reach them at Headquarters in Los Angeles. They were here waiting for us."

He shot her a stunned look. "Sark didn't want to sabotage us. He wanted them to rescue us."

"Well, 'rescue' sounds a bit more charitable than what it really was." Sydney gave a long sigh. "He just wanted me gone, so that he would once again be Irina's sole heir to the throne."

Vaughn's mouth quirked. "Well, I knew his motives wouldn't have been totally altruistic. There had to have been something in it for him."

"Sydney!" Jack's voice suddenly pierced through the night air. Then he was by her side.

"Sydney, honey, are you okay?" His voice was full of concern and she started to cry. She was so over trying to be brave and strong. Her daddy had come to rescue her.

"Oh, Daddy!" Her father wrapped his arms carefully around her into a solid, sturdy bear hug and she felt like a little girl again, the one who ran crying to her father when she fell on the sidewalk and scraped her knee.

"Vaughn, is it bad?" Jack asked over his daughter's shoulder.

"One shot to the right thigh. One shot to the right shoulder. No vitals hit, but a substantial amount of blood loss." Vaughn informed him in a perfunctory manner, as if a no-nonsense attitude would help him maintain his control. "I don't think the injuries are life-threatening, but we really need to get her to a hospital." He looked grim.

Jack looked visibly relieved that Sydney's injuries were not as bad as they could have been. "Thank you for protecting my daughter while I was unable to." He said gravely.

"I love her, Jack." Vaughn replied with equal sincerity. "I would have protected her with my life if I had to."

They finally heard the wail of the siren blaring in the distance.

Sydney heard what Vaughn said and smiled. She pulled back to look at her father. "Dad, please try and be happy for us. I know you think I'm making things more difficult for myself by falling in love with Michael, but I'm happy for the first time in a long time."

Jack gave her a long look. "Sydney, that's all I ever wanted for you." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "And I will support you in any way I can." He squeezed her hand and then straightened up. "I'll go see if I can help direct that ambulance over here." He left the two of them alone.

Sydney looked up at Vaughn. "Did that sound like a ringing endorsement to you?" She asked.

"I think your dad will help us out if we need it." Vaughn conceded. "I actually think he respects me now."

She smiled at the incredulous tone of his voice. "Yeah, and all it took was me getting shot to do it." She quipped. Maybe her giddiness at her father's acceptance of Vaughn was making her immune to her pain. "What do you think we'll need to do in order for him to approve of our getting married someday?"

"I don't care as long as it doesn't involve you and a bullet." Vaughn retorted. "I happen to like your body just the way it is, thank you very much."

"You know, ordinarily I'd jump on an innuendo like that, but right now, I'm just not up to it." She gave him a half-hearted attempt at flirtation. "Michael, where is the ambulance?" Sydney knew she sounded whiny, but in this case, she felt she was entitled.

"It'll be here soon, Syd." Vaughn said soothingly and then he let out a long sigh. "You know, everything's going to be very different from the minute we get home." He said philosophically.

"I know." She said soberly.

"I don't even know if I have a job anymore and you're going to have to deal with what you know about Sloane and your mother and Sark…"

"We'll get through it, Michael." Sydney said determinedly. "We both know it won't be easy and we'll have to be very careful, but if I've learned one thing out of this whole crazy mess, it's that I love you and I don't want to lose you."

"You won't, Sydney." He vowed. "We've gone through too much to go back to the way things were before. We've said things--"

"--and done things," She added with a suggestive leer in her voice that made him grin.

"--and done things," Vaughn amended. "that have changed our relationship forever. You mean everything to me, Syd, and I couldn't give you up if I tried."

Her heart was so full of love for this wonderful, caring man, who held her in his arms as gently and as tenderly as a newborn baby. So many terrible things had to happen for them to even meet, but by some miracle, they had found each other and they both knew it was meant to be.

"I love you, Michael Vaughn." She whispered, reaching her hand up to cradle his face.

"I love you, too, Sydney Bristow." And they sealed their promise of a future together with a kiss.

THE END

Author's Note: Wow, it's finally finished.  I honestly didn't expect this to take as long as it did to tell and I just want to give a huge thanks to everyone who took the time to read and review.  I really loved writing this story and I hope you all enjoyed it.

I'll probably be seeing you all again in a few weeks with another story (much shorter this time) and I hope you'll check it out when it gets posted.

Thanks again,

Rhonda

Oh, yeah, P.S. to jen (dropstitch@juno.com) about the restaurant: Thanks for the shout-out, but no, it doesn't actually exist. Just a figment of my over-active imagination.