Shattered Paradise
Chapter 11: One to Ten
Everything was happening so fast. It was as if the world was taking place around him, and he was just there to watch.
Somehow, he got into the car. He only remembered to fasten his seatbelt after they had been on the road for ten minutes, and then only because Jack was not the best driver when he was under this much stress, and a semi almost came veering into the passenger side door.
"Um, Jack, where are you going?" Weiss asked from the backseat, finally breaking the deathlike silence that had descended upon the car.
Only then did Vaughn realize that they were going the wrong way, away from the airport, away from Cairo, away from Sydney and their little baby…
"What the hell…" he whispered, but only because he couldn't think of anything else to say. There were no words to describe how he was feeling, and he couldn't think. Speech had become an effort, thinking of the right words too difficult a task.
"Going to get some supplies," Jack grumbled.
Supplies? What were they, runaway children going to the store to get peanut butter and jelly?
"Why?" Weiss asked, saving Vaughn the trouble.
Jack accelerated viciously and made a dangerous turn onto the exit ramp. Horns were blaring, and in all rights, they should have been dead. Weiss was gripping the seat so tightly that his knuckles were turning white and Dixon had closed his eyes and grabbed onto the door.
Weiss should have remained quiet. Jack's strategy would have unfolded with patience and time.
"We can't just show up without equipment or a plan!" Jack snapped, coming dangerously close to a telephone pole.
No one responded and silence filled the car once again. Jack soon pulled into an apartment complex, and the car screeched to a halt. Dixon and Weiss shakily exited and took a moment to stand quietly, enjoying the feel of solid ground beneath their feet.
As soon as Jack got out of the car, he immediately stormed up to the front of the building and dialed a number.
"Hello?" an oddly familiar voice asked over the speaker.
"It's Jack. Open the door."
"O-okay… Just let…" But the rest of his words were lost as Jack pressed a button, hanging up the phone.
The door clicked open, and the four men stepped inside. Jack led them upstairs and down the hall, stopping at apartment 4C. Seeming annoyed that the door wasn't already open, he knocked impatiently.
The door swung open and there stood a very flustered Marshall.
"Mr. Bristow, I…wow…" he began, but stopped when he noticed the rest of the crowd. "Uh, hi… I didn't know that, um…" He ran back into the room, straightening the pillows on the couch and picking a bowl up off the coffee table. "I don't have much to uh, offer, but I uh…" He shoved the bowl into their faces, revealing its brightly colored contents.
Of course. M&M's. Vaughn turned away. He couldn't look at them, he couldn't. It was taking everything he had not to grab the bowl and hurtle it across the room, spilling the brightly colored candies everywhere, just like the pieces of his life.
Luckily, Jack saved him from having to face the taunting pieces of candy any longer.
"We're not here for social purposes, Marshall," he said icily, as he pushed his way into the room.
"Are you sure, because I was just in the middle of watching The Sound of Music and…"
Vaughn had had enough.
"Sydney's gone."
As he spoke the words, he finally comprehended it. It wasn't a dream; it wasn't a nightmare. It was real.
The second the words passed his lips, he knew it. It was the truth. Oh God, she's gone…
"Who…who took her?" Marshall asked.
But Vaughn wasn't going to say that name. Not again. Once had been enough, had been more than enough.
He ran a hand through his hair, and began pacing the room. One step after another. Even that was becoming difficult. The voices of Jack, Marshall, Dixon, and Weiss blended and melded into one. A hum, something not real, not able to be heard. The volume of the TV seemed to become louder, its music harsh and taunting.
The hills are alive with the sound of music…
He needed to concentrate, needed to focus. He wasn't going to be able to help Sydney like this. He wasn't going to be able to save her, to save their little baby.
Breathe. Deep breath in, and then out. Count to ten. Slowly. Carefully. Don't skip any numbers. Don't make a mistake.
He didn't. Somehow, he made it to ten, and he felt better. He didn't know how, and he didn't know why, but just that little piece of information, the fact that he could make it to ten, made everything seem so much better.
Vaughn began to think that it shouldn't, it wasn't. He began to wonder if Sydney would make it to ten, if she could hold on that long. But that bastard wouldn't kill her, he wouldn't…
And so he didn't let himself think that anything could go wrong. He focused on the stories his mother used to tell him when he was a little boy, remembering King Arthur and Lancelot, Hercules, Superman, and every other man of strength and power, anyone else who had ever succeeded in saving the damsel in distress.
It was childish; he knew it. It was innocent and naïve. But it was also what kept him going, what gave him the strength to stop pacing, to listen to the conversation. It's what made him think that he would save his wife, and that everything would be okay.
Marshall had run out of the room and come back with a handful of gadgets, a proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"I, um, don't know what kind of…situations you might, you know…run into with something like this, so I, uh…"
"Our plane takes off in twenty minutes," Jack interrupted him.
"Oh, okay, it's just that…right, twenty minutes…" He glanced at his watch. "And now it's probably nineteen, right?…But, um, here is a lock picking device," he said, holding a small object up, "and I have these…um, well, guns." He picked up the two guns and handed them to Jack. "Okay, they look like guns, but they're not, so don't worry. You won't, uh, kill anybody… I mean, if you wanted to, you could, but you might have to, you know…"
"Are they tranquilizers?" Dixon asked.
"Yes, right, exactly… I'm not a really a big fan of any real violence. Blood, you know, it kind of freaks me out…"
He closed his eyes and could see Sydney lying on the ground, helpless. The blood trickled down her face, her arms, her legs, washing over her entire body, marring her beautiful, perfect skin.
And he couldn't listen anymore. He just couldn't. He had to stop, and count to ten. He missed the rest of the conversation, didn't know what else had been said. He had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other to get out of Marshall's apartment, down the stairs, into the car. He hadn't realized that Jack wasn't driving until he happened to look down and notice that his seatbelt wasn't buckled in and he was still alive. Out of the car, into the airport, get the ticket, get onto the plane…
Cairo, Egypt
They were there. He would say that is almost before he could count to ten, but he knew that that's not true. He had spent the entire plane ride counting to ten in any language he could think of, until the numbers had become confused and mixed together. One, deux, drei, four, cinque, seis, sept, huit, nove, ten…
This is where he would find Sydney, where he would find their little baby. In a matter of minutes, seconds, hours at the most, he would be able to take them into his arms, take them home, never let them out of his sight again.
This thought fueled him, gave him the power to speak, to move, to function.
"This way," he said, speaking for the first time since they had left Marshall's apartment.
It was eerily quiet as they approached the gate. No guards, no sign of life. It was silent, silent as death…but no, he wasn't going to think of that. Not now, not when he was so close to getting Sydney back…
"Watch out," Dixon said, gently nudging Vaughn out of the way. He went to work with the lock-picking device, opening the gate in a matter of seconds. The gate squeaked on its hinges, hurting his ears after the deafening silence. Too loud and out of place; it hadn't squeaked before.
But it wasn't the time to think of before; that's what would get him in trouble, would make him lose focus. It was today, it was now; don't think of yesterday, don't think of tomorrow…
"Let's go," Vaughn said, and the three other men nodded.
He led them up the path, to the front door. He almost didn't try the handle, almost stepped back and let Dixon at it to pick the lock. But the handle turned, and the door opened.
He stepped inside the front hall, remembering every inch of it, every gaudy vase, every design in the tile and the paint. It was plastered in his memory, he couldn't have shaken it out if he tried.
The group looked curiously around the room. Vaughn knew something wasn't right. There were no guards, no security anywhere. He tried not to think what this might mean, what it probably meant. He didn't want to think about that, didn't want to believe.
Jack was the first to speak. "Let's split up. We can cover more ground that way."
"Good idea," Dixon murmured, ready for action.
"Yeah," Weiss agreed, still glancing around the lavishly decorated hallway.
Vaughn only nodded. He had lost his voice again; it was dancing somewhere around the hall, shouting at him from the high ceiling, from up in the rafters.
"Michael, you and Eric search the rooms on this floor," Jack began. "Dixon and I will take the upstairs. Here." He handed Weiss one of the tranquilizer guns and gave Vaughn a communicator. "Use the communications device only in the event of an emergency. We don't know if they have anything that might pick up the signal. And don't shoot to kill. We might need someone for questioning in case…" he trailed off.
The four men stood in silence for a moment. Finally Dixon spoke. "We'll meet you back here in twenty minutes…Good luck." He took Jack's arm and they headed up the stairs.
Weiss glanced at Vaughn. "Ready?"
Vaughn nodded. "Let's go," he whispered.
He led the way down the hall, Weiss following at a close distance, the tranquilizer gun aimed straight ahead. Weiss turned to open the first door, but Vaughn kept walking.
"Hey, aren't we…"
"She won't be in any of these rooms," Vaughn answered.
"You don't know that for a fact," Weiss replied, giving his friend a curious look. "We should check all the rooms, just as a precaution. You never know…"
"She won't be in any of these rooms," Vaughn repeated, his voice a harsh, forced whisper.
Weiss didn't argue any further. He nodded and motioned for Vaughn to keep walking, but Vaughn didn't see him. He was focused on something down the hall, on the one opened door in the hallway, on the window that was throwing light into just the right spot…
"Mike?" His friend's voice was soft and patient. He was worried, but he didn't get it. No one ever would. No one had been there when he had searched for her; no one had been there when he found her…
Vaughn walked quickly and suddenly down the hall, making Weiss jog to catch up with him.
As he got closer he thought he saw it. He thought that there was something on the floor, something that made his skin crawl and his blood run cold. Something wet and glistening. Red. He hated red.
But he blinked and it was gone. Thank God it was gone. He couldn't deal with that right now. He didn't know what he would have done if…
He walked into the room without thinking, without checking to see if anyone was there, if there was any danger.
He glanced around the room.
All the blood; smearing the carpet, streaking the walls.
Oh God.
The blood. The misery. The pain. He could have prevented it, all of it, but he hadn't. It was his fault, his fault, his fault…
He closed his eyes, willing his breathing to return to normal. He felt Weiss' hand on his shoulder and shrugged it off.
"Mike?"
Not now. Not again. Please…
"Michael?"
He opened his eyes. The room was immaculate. A new vase replaced the one that had been smashed, the sword was nowhere to be seen.
The room was perfect. Perfect, that is, if you overlooked the faded brown stains on the wall and carpet. The only sign of her struggle over a year ago. The only memory the room held of her pain.
But at least they were brown and faded. At least they weren't new and wet and glaring. At least he could only see the blood with his eyes closed. At least it wasn't really there…
"Mike?"
Vaughn turned to face his friend. Weiss breathed a sigh of relief and gave Vaughn's arm a reassuring squeeze.
"You gonna be okay?"
Vaughn tried to give him a smile, tried to show him that it was alright, that it would be alright. He couldn't, though. His ability to smile had disappeared the moment he had returned home and found the shower guests standing on his front porch, the minute he saw that the plates of cookies were still wrapped up and the presents were unopened…
Weiss understood, letting the silence and the sadness in Vaughn's eyes speak louder than words.
"It'll be okay, Mike. We'll find her, I promise."
A promise. He had made promises too…
"I'm here now, and I'm never going to leave you again."
"Pr…promise me."
"I promise."
"Thanks," Vaughn somehow managed to whisper.
Weiss nodded. "Come on, let's check the other rooms."
"She's not here," Vaughn murmured. It had just dawned on him at that moment. She's not here. He could feel it; he knew it.
"We'll check them anyway," Weiss said gently, moving towards the door and disappearing from view.
Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf…
He was almost done, he had almost made it to ten, but before he could finish, he was interrupted. A sound. A gunshot. Loud and painful, making him flinch. He tried to run into the hall and toward the sound, but he couldn't move. He was frozen.
Another shot rang through the air, followed by a scream, a sound even more painful than that of the gun. Dammit.
He knew it wasn't Sydney. The scream had been male, the voice wasn't hers, but it still rooted him to the ground.
Sights and sounds crashed mercilessly through his head. That one sound, a gunshot, had been the only reason that that bastard was still alive. If it hadn't been for that gun, this never would have happened, that son of a bitch never would have been able to take Sydney again…
There was shouting now, Jack and Dixon had come downstairs. More gunshots and then silence. Only once the silence flooded his ears was Vaughn able to move. He walked toward the door and stood in the frame.
Now there was blood. Dripping on the floor, splattered on the walls… But no, it wasn't like that, not at all. There was blood, but it wasn't Sydney's. It belonged to a small, dirty man who was lying on the floor with Jack looming over him, and…
Weiss.
Propped up against the wall with Dixon kneeling next to him. It was the leg, thank God it was only the leg, but still…
"Eric, I'm…" He couldn't say it. Vaughn knew he should have been there, should have come out of the room to help him, but…
"No, Mike," Weiss said slowly, out of breath. "It's not your fault."
It wasn't, it wasn't, it shouldn't have been…
But it was. He knew it was…
Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't ever say you're sorry…Vaughn nodded and turned away. Dixon had out his cell phone and was talking calmly to the emergency dispatcher. Jack was standing over the guard, aiming the man's own rifle at him.
"Where is my daughter?"
"I swear to you. I know nothing." The tears were falling, dripping onto the floor almost as quickly as the blood oozing from the wound in his side.
"Nothing?" Jack asked maliciously.
"Nothi…Ahh!" Another gunshot, this one in the shoulder.
Something inside him snapped, and Vaughn was suddenly filled with a desperate, dangerous anger. He strode over to them, ripping the rifle from Jack's hands. Jack willingly gave it up to him and backed away.
"Please," the man pleaded, trying to raise his hands in the air.
"Where the hell is my wife?" Vaughn whispered slowly, bringing the end of the rifle to rest against the man's head. "And don't you dare lie to me."
The man swallowed nervously. Next to Vaughn's vicious stare, Jack's had seemed like a glance from a puppy.
"I do not…"
"Un."
And he started the counting once again, slow and deliberate, harsh and venomous.
"…know, I swear…"
"Deux."
He wasn't going to make it to ten this time, he didn't have the patience, not anymore.
"Please…"
There was a pause, his emerald eyes were smoldering.
"Trois."
Another pause, another half a second that seemed to last a lifetime.
"Alexandria, Fahim's in…"
A swift explosion and silence. It was too late. His anger was too much to hold back. The trigger had been pulled.
The paramedics arrived to take Weiss to the hospital, and Vaughn, Jack, and Dixon headed to Alexandria.
They followed every source; they followed every lead. They found Fahim's compound in Alexandria. It was falling apart, the brick crumbling, the floor creaking whenever they took a step.
He wasn't there and neither was Sydney. They found another man, perhaps another guard, perhaps an innocent citizen who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, he knew information about Fahim that he wasn't willing to give up easily. He was finally convinced to share what he knew, just as the guard before him had been, and he received a bullet to the brain for his troubles.
They followed his trail to Memphis with the same results. Their next lead took them out of Africa and into the Middle East. Every time there was a compound, every time there was someone else to point them in a different direction, every time, there was no Sydney, no little baby, no one to save.
Hours turned to days, and days turned to weeks, until it seemed to Vaughn as if they had spent a lifetime looking for her.
Dixon received an urgent call from home; his family missed them, they needed him. He didn't want to go, but Jack convinced him. His family didn't need to be torn apart.
And then there were two.
They had followed every lead they had been given. Vaughn began to wonder if he would ever get to see his precious wife, if he would ever get to hold his child. He would always make himself believe that they were still alive, that every time they stormed into another one of Fahim's compounds that that would be the one. That he would get to take Sydney in his arms and bring her home.
But he was quickly beginning to lose hope. They had found and infiltrated seven different compounds in twenty-two days. Some were in buildings, some in houses, some shacks, or caves, some in cities, some in the desert, some in the middle of nowhere. All were a disappointment. Every last one.
She was not there. She never was, never had been.
As they stood in a city, looking up at the high-rise building that was the eighth compound, Vaughn began to wonder if there was such thing as hope. He would never stop looking for her, but did that even matter anymore?
He took a deep breath and counted to ten. It wasn't working as well as it used to, not anymore. And for the first time in twenty-four days, he let the tears slowly trickle down his cheeks.
I am so sorry that this chapter took so long, and so sorry that it's as crappy as it is. Thanks for all the great reviews, and please keep them up. Reviews, emails, do anything that you can to bother me and make me write the next chapter quicker. It really will help, I promise.