Chapter Four: Curtains
A/N: You guys ROCK! I know that I say this way too much, but I really do appreciate what you do! There's a section in this chapter that has some wry humor that doesn't exactly fit the overall serious mood; I do apologize, but I was feeling a little sarcastic on Saturday (which is when I wrote the majority of this).
Warning: There is some strong profanity at the beginning of the chapter but I really had to put it in there, cause Francie's pissed off.
Majorly (ok, that's not a word. Who else here hates spell check?!).
To lurker: Thank you for warning me about the choppy format. I'll try to improve. After all, I wouldn't want you guys to get a headache reading my story.
Dedication: To Daphne, because she had to read the entire chapter to me while I typed it at a snail's pace (lost my original work. He he). Thank you for telling me all the potential "cringy" areas. LOL. Spanks to you (That's why it took so long to update)
Update- When we finally uploaded it, the formatting got all messed up. Hopefully, this one won't have any problems.
Here goes Chapter 4- Take three…
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*Francie's POV*
I slammed down the receiver, breathing hard.
Crap. All of it was crap.
That liar bastard had told me all these things about Sydney; all these things that I knew were NOT true! Sydney works for a bank, she works for a bank, a BANK for God's sake, not some SD-6.
SD-6 doesn't exist; it CAN'T exist.
Because if it does, that means my relationship with my best friend is a lie.
Remember the plane ticket a devil said in the back of my mind. The plane ticket that Sydney almost couldn't explain. And those long work hours and business trips. What kind of bank employee works 24/7?
I had known Sydney for a long time, and I KNEW that she wasn't that much of a workaholic. All these questions popping into my head only confused me further, pushing me away from Sydney.
Maybe I don't have a best friend after all.
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Vaughn's POV*
I burst out laughing, something I hadn't done in weeks, a laughter that started from deep down in my throat and echoed throughout the empty room.
Who did Khasinau think he was kidding?
The note was bullshit, a pure, undiluted lie. There was no doubt about that; the only question in my mind was why? Why did he go through the effort to write me a note and secretly slip it into my food, when he knew that I would never believe his story?
Oh, well: it wasn't up to me to find out what was going on in that nut's head.
Either it was an elaborate plan of Irina's, or the idiot just had a lot of time to kill.
To be honest, with my life on the line, I didn't care at that point. Tearing the note up and tossing it into the air, I dug into my food.
The little pieces of paper settled on the cold concrete floor, never to be read again.
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Normal POV*
Khasinau stood meekly in front of Irina Derevko's desk, back hunched over, almost as if he was prepared for her to lash out at him.
"You asked for me, boss?"
Looking up just long enough to shoot a glare at Khasinau, Irina snapped, "We need to discuss the details of Mr. Vaughn's execution."
She continued, "I want to be a small…party, just you, me, and Vaughn. Nice and private."
"Oh, yes," the familiar glint of evil was in her eye. "And of course, Sydney. I'm sure she wouldn't want to miss this once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity."
"Yes, boss, whatever you say," Khasinau strode towards the door, letting out an unreadable sigh.
"Where do you think you're going, you fool?"
"To pick up Vaughn's leftovers." Khasinau enunciated his words as if they were the most natural in the world, as if his visit to Vaughn's cell was to be nothing special.
"Don't waste your time. I'll have Stephan pick it up later."
Khasinau muttered a curse under his breath, but it wasn't soft enough.
"What did you say?"
Irina's voice almost seemed to carry a threat in its undercurrent.
"Nothing, nothing," Khasinau hastily replied, trying to correct his mistake.
But the damage was done.
As he swung the door upon and walked out of the room, a glint was once again in Irina's eyes. And it wasn't a glint of malice.
It was one of suspicion.
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*Normal POV* Continued
Khasinau walked down the dingy hallway, looking straight ahead in an almost zombie-like impersonation.
Goddamn you, goddamn you he berated himself repeatedly. Because of his reckless slip-of-the-tongue in Irina's office, all he could do now was wait for Vaughn's response, which probably wouldn't be very positive.
Though he didn't seem like the brightest man in the world, with his thick accent and seeming minion-like devotion to his superiors, Khasinau wasn't a stupid man. And, besides, it didn't take a genius to figure out that Irina would be watching his every step.
She had spies around every corner of this safe house, and all who worked for her knew the consequences of being a traitor.
You got quick death.
If you were lucky.
You know there is only one way out of this someone in the back of his mind whispered. And that path didn't seem very likely at all. Almost indefinitely they would be captured, and if they were captured…he shuddered, not wanting to think about the result.
But now, with Derevko wary and Vaughn most certainly mistrustful of his identity, Khasinau knew that that path was the only road he could take.
But it would not be a pleasant one.
Having made up his mind, he quickened his pace and soon came to an opening in the hallway, where he turned right and stepped into a small room.
It was a rather pathetic room, small, dirty, dim, with only a sagging bed in a corner. It was where he had lived for the past ten years. He didn't even remember what it felt like to sleep in a warm, clean bed anymore.
That was only a wisp of a memory, confined to the past, probably something he would never experience again.
Shaking his head resolutely to clear out the distracting thoughts, Khasinau closed the door of his room, leaving him a semidarkness, then carefully pressed his ear to the door to make sure there were no listeners on the other side.
What he was about to do no one could see OR hear because there were strict rules to living in Irina's "house".
No one save herself could own a weapon, unless they were issued one beforehand. And whether that was because she was afraid of assassination or revolt, no one knew.
All they knew was that, like many of her other rules, the penalty was death.
So Khasinau had never told anyone of his secret hiding place, where he had not only kept a gun but also daggers and ammunition, old weapons given to him by the CIA, which had not been touched in years except dug up for polishing and the sake of just knowing that they were there.
Now, it was time to recover them again, something he was not looking forward to.
Khasinau pried open the floorboards and quickly gave his gun a glance before picking it up.
A click sounded out as the gun was loaded.
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WARNING: SARCASM AHEAD
Irina smiled and hummed to herself as she walked towards and unlocked the special safe where she kept all her devices of torture. Looking at her weapons, she let out a sigh of satisfaction. Everything was polished and in order, just the way she liked it.
Hmmmm…Irina thought to herself, shivering with delicious anticipation. Should I torture Vaughn before I kill him? Or how about a good old-fashioned decapitation? Haven't had one of those in awhile; it might turn out to be quite enjoyable. Maybe I'll take pity on him and just shoot him, nice and clean. Wouldn't want Sydney to get TOO upset after all.
Taking out a small handgun, she deposited it in her vest pocket, then locked the safe again.
No need to bother loading it; it always was.
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*Sydney's POV*
I had condemned Vaughn to death. Part of me wanted to laugh and never stop; that would be preferable to tears.
The other part of me wanted to wallow in my misery, punishing myself for the choice that I had made.
Yet another part wanted to disappear from the face of this earth; it cried out, saying that I wasn't fit to live.
And the last part of me, it told me that I had thrown away my only chance at love. After Danny and Noah, I thought I'd never be able to like a guy in that same way again; thought that I'd never be able to look at another and realize that my knees were shaking. But I had found that guy in Vaughn.
Sure, Will was a nice substitute for a boyfriend when you wanted to laugh and kid around.
But Vaughn was different.
I had only felt this way about two other people before, and those two people were dead. Vaughn is, I mean HAD BEEN, the only person that might have saved me from never feeling more than friendly affection towards a guy, and I had just thrown that chance that away.
Oh, my lord. I was crying. Tears were spilling over by themselves, regardless of me telling myself to stop it, stop being weak. But I couldn't stop. I wasn't just crying for Vaughn, for the fact that he would soon never see a sunrise again, but for myself, for my hopelessness at love. And for all the others in this world like me who could never really be themselves, who always had to lie to the ones they cared about, who would never realize what true love is.
Finally, I gave up trying to be the tough girl that I'm not.
For a very rare moment in my life, I dropped the mask that is Sydney Bristow, secret agent. And I became Sydney, girl without a mother, girl without a real life that belonged to herself, girl with a need to feel love and warmth.
Sobs wracked my body and I gave way to the tears.
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*Normal POV*
The sun slowly rose behind the hills, greeting the new day. But two people underground in a grim safe house, this was the end of a day. More specifically, for one of them it was the end of an era, and era of hope. For the other, it was the end of a life.
Early in the morning when the dew had just settled on the grass, guards aroused a groggy Michael Vaughn, pulling him to the room where a day ago he had been led.
He barely registered Sydney's swollen, tear-streaked face (God, she looked like hell) before a blindfold was pulled tightly over his eyes and he was pushed against a wall.
Khasinau and Derevko were there too, one looking solemn, trying to hide his nervousness, and the other looking indifferent. She went through this every day, after all.
Vaughn was still wondering what was happening around him, when without warning Irina raised the gun in her hand and aimed.
A shot echoed around the room, followed by the dull thud of a body dropping to the ground.
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A/N: Well, that was my fourth chapter. Yes, I'm aware that it sucked. Oh, btw I'm joining Beta Club, cross country, and DI so I'll be REALLY, REALLY busy. However, I will try my best to update, so don't give up on me!!!!!
Ummm…real sorry but chapter four was messed up and well, I forgot to change the summary after I took it off. Whoops…*blushes*. PLEASE don't me mad. I started retyping it right away (as you will read in my a/n in the beginning). It took like FORTY hours, so I got the punishment I deserved…right? Hehehehe…..please forgive.
Thanks to:
Odessa
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Placebo
Kiwikendra
Bria66
Hermione512
Lurker
Trustno1
Daphne (hint, hint)
Annabel
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Geogirl
Mysterious Angel
Loopylou
Lolita
Love you all!!!!!