Disclaimer: These characters are not mine – they are the property of Bad Robot, Touchstone, ABC, JJ et al
Rating: PG-13 for some mild language
Feedback: Need it like I need water, my running shoes, Alias and fine wine… Please read/review ~ constructive criticism is always welcome!
Author's Note1: Post-Cipher. Assume Sydney has escaped from her icy predicament in Siberia (she is the star of the show after all!).
AN2: Chapters 4-7 all were beta-d by the most fantastic Agent Blakeney. (Thanks for your support!)
Chapter 5 - Realizations
**Vaughn POV**
"Robinson, any audio from Bristow? "
"Jacobs, go back to the car pulling up – I want you to freeze on the person getting out."
"Spencer, get our link to Ferdinand's security cameras back up. NOW!"
I pace in the back of the van, staring at the monitors, trying to force them to come back up. Sydney is in there alone and we are sitting here blind and deaf.
"Sir? I have isolated the frames with the new player."
I walk over to Agent Jacobs and look over his shoulder.
"Sir, this is the last 5 seconds of video we received before we lost our feed. Clearly there are two men exiting the car – one who looks to be a bodyguard and the other…"
"Sark," I say.
"Excuse me?" Jacobs looks up at me with questioning eyes.
Ignoring Jacobs, I take another look at the video. The only clear shot we have is of the back of a head. Blonde hair, suit – I am sure it is Sark.
"Agent Spencer, where are we with reestablishing the feed?"
"Sir, it looks like Ferdinand's system has been taken down from the inside. I am going to try to hack back into the system and get it running, but it will take me a few minutes."
"Agent Vaughn! Agent Bristow's audio feed just came back up."
I throw my headphones on and hear, "…why don't you make me one also? I think we may be here for awhile."
**Sydney POV**
As soon as I spotted Sark, I turned on my comm link in the hopes that Vaughn would pick up the audio and hear what was happening.
"So, General. Are you going to pour me that drink? Vodka, straight up," Sark says.
The General is just standing there, the distinctive look of fear turning his face white.
"Come now, Ferdinand. Where are your manners? Can you please introduce me to your beautiful guest?"
Let the games begin.
I turn, smile at Sark, and begin walking towards him. I need to buy some time so I can figure out what my next move is.
I look straight into his eyes and say, "Bonjour, monsieur. I am Sophie LeClair, a friend of the General. I apologize for the lack of hospitality, but I do not believe we were expecting you."
He takes my offered hand and brushes it lightly with his lips.
"Very nice to meet you, Sophie. I did not realize General Ferdinand had such fine taste in women. You quite remind me of someone that I once saw in Paris – a singer at my friend's nightclub."
We stand like that for a brief moment. Eyes locked, my hand in his – our intentions clear. The game is on, and Sydney Bristow does not lose.
He drops my hand, and we both turn toward the General. He is attempting to mix our drinks without exposing the shaking of his hand. I wonder how Sark is going to play this -- the next move is his. He settles down in one of the armchairs, making himself more comfortable than the situation warrants.
OK – my move now.
"General, it looks like your guest must be here for a business discussion. Why don't I take a walk and come back in a few minutes?"
General Ferdinand nods at me, and I begin walking as fast as I can toward the door.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, Sophie," Sark calls from his armchair.
I don't even turn around and within seconds I am back in the main hallway. I know that Sark has something else planned for me – this was too easy. But I keep moving; hoping the sheer force of my momentum will win out.
"Tower, this is Maverick. I need you to confirm the location of the box. Sark is not getting this from us." I whisper, hoping Vaughn can still hear me.
"Maverick. What is going on?" Vaughn says. "I want you to get out of there."
"Just give me the location of the damn box and the best route out of the house. I can handle this."
A new voice comes over my comm link. "Confirmed location of the box. Office on second floor. Second door on the left. Use the back stairway to get out."
As soon as the instructions reach my ear, I am maneuvering to position myself. A quick check of the foyer reveals a disconcerting absence of guards. I know Sark is planning something, but I cannot give up on the box. I refuse to lose this game.
Within 15 seconds, I am at the door of the office. I step inside, closing the door quickly behind me. Removing the brooch from my jacket, I place it on the combination and activate it.
"Tower, this is Maverick. I am in position and working to crack the safe."
As I register the 'pop' of the safe opening, I feel the distinctive pressure of a gun between my shoulder blades.
A rough arm twists me around so that I am staring straight down the barrel of Sark's Beretta.
"My dear Sydney Bristow, we need to stop meeting like this."
I stare right back at Sark and say, "But why? Am I boring you? Or are you still sore from the pick-axe I lodged in your leg in Siberia?"
"Ms. Bristow, I can assure you that you do not bore me – not in the least. However, please concede today's game to me. The box is mine."
I can see his eyes shift their focus towards the box for a split-second, and I use that moment to go for the gun. We are both grasping at it, hoping to break the other's grip. I throw a quick back-kick at Sark's gut, and as he falls backward, his grip loosens. I twist the gun out of his hands, roll to the side, and come up on one knee with the barrel pointed directly at him.
"Not so fast, Sark. I am taking what I came here for. The box is mine." I say with a slight smile.
"What, are you going to shoot me? Our meetings are much too fun, and I would hate to miss one should I sustain an injury," Sark replies before lunging at the gun.
I roll to the side and get back to my fighting position. Sark is a good hand-to-hand fighter, but I know I can still beat him – even in 3-inch heels. A quick roundhouse/front-kick combination sends him back to the carpet. Time to end this. I take the butt of the gun and hit Sark across the head with all the force I can muster. That should shut him up for a while.
"Tower, this is Maverick. I have the box and am heading out. I will meet you at the rendezvous point."
I open the door and take a quick look back at the unconscious Sark sprawled across the floor.
"Thanks for playing, Sark. Until next time…"
As I make my way to meet Vaughn and the team, I think back to Sark's comments about our meetings. As much as I would like to deny his assertion that this is 'fun,' I think he may be right. Behind all the pretense of 'national security' and 'working to take down SD-6' lies the adrenaline rush that comes from winning the game.
What happens if I cannot leave that behind?
The ramifications of that question are overwhelming, so I quickly store it away for later and focus on getting to the rendezvous point.
**Vaughn POV**
I take a deep breath and tell the team to get ready to meet Sydney at the rendezvous point.
I should be proud… Proud that the mission was a success; proud of how Sydney handled herself. Well, maybe 'proud' is not the right word. I should at least be happy. Sydney is safe, and we have the box. These are things I should be happy about.
But I am neither proud nor happy. Rather, I am almost choking from the frustration of sitting silent and helpless while another one of Sydney's missions went sideways. She could have been captured, or worse, killed, and all I did was sit on the sidelines and pray for the best. It is almost easier when she is half-a-world away from me, just a voice bounced off of a satellite into my ear. Today, though… Today, logistics were on my side.
I could have busted into Ferdinand's house, and helped her fend off Sark and grab the box. I should have overridden the mission plan and mobilized an emergency extraction team – this is my mission, after all, and she is my agent. I have every right to take any action necessary to ensure the mission is successful and Sydney is safe. And now I arrive at my final admission: I would have screwed protocol and run to help Sydney, if only she had really needed my help.
Could have. Should have. Would have.
If only she needed my help.
"Sir? Agent Vaughn? We are all packed up and ready to meet Agent Bristow."
There will be time later to jump back into this pool of self-doubt I just created, but now it is time to get moving.
I turn to Agent Robinson and reply, "Thanks. Let's head out… By the way team, good job today."
~ End of Part 5 ~