Gone and Back Again

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Alias. They belong to ABC and J.J. Abrams. I own only the characters that have not appeared on Alias and none of my storylines will be used in upcoming episodes.

Spoilers: Maybe.

A/N: We're still in "rewind time," but we are now out of Vaughn's POV and in………well, I guess mine.

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Vaughn looked up at he stepped out of the van. The were only a few more minutes until the sun would set completely, and he wanted to get his last look for what he figured would be a long while. He turned his head to look at the building the van had stopped in front of and wrinkled his forehead. It was a warehouse. How fitting.

Sark gave him a shove to move him along. Vaughn glared at him before following the two men in front of him: the driver and another man Vaughn suspected to be a guard. When they walked through the doors of the warehouse, Sark took the lead. He dismissed the other two men and led Vaughn to a room with a large, white door. Vaughn stared in awe around him, shocked at the immense size of the building. It looked so much smaller on the outside.

He looked just above the door. There was a number. Room 47. It figures. Sark pushed open the door to reveal what was a surprisingly dark and dirty room.

Seeing the flabbergasted look on Vaughn's face, Sark said to him, "Don't let the outer layer deceive you, Agent Vaughn. It will get you killed."

"Kiss my ass," Vaughn replied.

Sark smirked. "Why don't you step inside, Agent Vaughn? Let's get you acquainted."

Vaughn complied and walked through the door. He jumped slightly when Sark slammed the door.

"Ms. Derevko is aware that you are here, Agent Vaughn," Sark said, seating himself on a chair. "She will be joining us shortly………with her special, and most welcomed, guest."

"Welcomed guest?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake, are you going to stand until they arrive, Agent Vaughn?" he asked, slyly evading the question. He waved his hand toward the other side of the room where two stacks of folding chairs were leaning next to each other against the wall. One pile had four chairs, the others seven. "Grab a chair."

"Are you implying that I won't be standing when they do get here?" Vaughn demanded as he walked across the room with his chair.

Sark waited until Vaughn set the chair down before him and sat before smiling and saying, "As a matter of fact, I guarantee it."

Vaughn pursed his lips and glared at him. He shot his head to the left when he heard the door open. In walked Derevko, and someone Vaughn didn't recognize.

Irina gave him a big smile as she walked toward him. She stopped right before his sitting form. After looking over him a few times, she reached out her hand, as if to stroke his hair. Vaughn jerked away from her touch, and she frowned. Vaughn could have sworn he saw a look of hurt in her eyes, but whatever it had been was now replaced with anger. She quickly raised her hand, and gave him a hard, stinging slap. Vaughn sat shocked in his chair, holding his cheek. Irina snapped her fingers at the man she had come in with, and he rushed over, handing her handcuffs. He walked back to his place by the door while Irina the cuffs to Vaughn's wrists.

"Agent Vaughn," she spoke for the first time, "I'd like you to meet some very special." She gestured to the man. "This is Dr. Victor Slaughter. A very fitting name, mind you, Slaughter."

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

Vaughn's mind was flooded with the possibilities. What the hell did she want this time?

"Did Daddy ever tell you about him, Michael?"

Vaughn's eyes blazed. "What?"

Irina smirked. "No, I suppose not. You know, I keep forgetting that you were only a child when he………passed." She sighed. "Well, I guess I'll just have to tell you myself. You see, Victor and I have been friends and partners for many years. He acted as a double agent for KGB, and spent some very valuable time with your father."

Vaughn blinked. He looked at the so-called doctor, whose face was displaying about as much emotion as a brick wall.

"Yes, it's all adding up in you're head, Michael, and I know you're smart enough to figure out what happened next."

"What do you want with me?"

"Answers, Michael," she hissed, "answers! Haven't we been over this?"

Vaughn shook his head. "But you know that I won't give you what you want. There's got to be another reason that you went to all this trouble just to get me here."

Irina glanced at Slaughter. "What did I tell you, Victor? He's quite intelligent." She turned back to Vaughn. "But that's no surprise. Like father, like son. Isn't that right, Victor?"

The doctor grunted in reply. Vaughn remained silent and still. Be silent, be still. Be silent, be still. He was reminded of the time he had been the third wheel on one of Eric's dates to the movie, She's All That. The young lady had forced the two into the "chick flick," thus convincing Weiss that she wasn't "The One" for him. Another slap from Irina awoke him from the amusing memory.

"Answer me when I talk to you, damn it!" she exclaimed.

Just get down to business, Michael.

"What do you want to know?" he asked grimly.

Irina raised an eyebrow. "You're willing to comply?"

After a moment of hesitation, he replied. "Yes."

"Well, then, let's get to it." She made another gesture to Victor, and with a nod, he left the room. Sark sat in his chair, folding his arms and smiling smugly. Irina kneeled down so she was face-to-face with Vaughn.

"It's amazing how much the two of you are alike. The same deep, green eyes, the same defiance and determination………" she said softly, trailing off.

"Do not talk about my father," Vaughn said angrily through clenched teeth. "I won't tell you that again."

"I think it's safe to say, Agent Vaughn," she said, standing straight, "that you are in no position to give me orders of any kind."

The door creaked, and Victor walked back in. This time, though, he had a try, which he wheeled in on a rolling metal table. He stood next to Irina, and picked up a scalpel.

"Victor is quite the fan of sharp object," Irina told Vaughn. "It's most likely that every time you see him, he'll be carrying one." She looked at Sark. "Sark, be a dear, and make the call."

Sark's face lit up, like a child opening his first Christmas present. He stood, pulled out his cell phone, and joined the growing crowd around Vaughn's chair. He dialed a number and held the phone to his hear, while Vaughn stared at the menacing scalpel.

"Hello, Agent Weiss."

Well, that caught Vaughn's attention. He snapped his head up to look at Sark. That damn smile was still there.

"Yes, to confirm your thought, this is Mr. Sark. We have Agent Vaughn with us. He wanted to speak with you himself, but unfortunately, he is a bit...tied up. And Ms. Derevko would never allow it."

Irina gave the young blonde a nod of approval. Then, she gave Victor's arm a small nudge. Without a word, he gripped the scalpel and stabbed it into Vaughn's chest.

Sydney, Weiss, Donovan, CIA, Mom, Dad, Irina Derevko, Jack, Will Tippin, SD-6, Weiss, Dad, the warehouse, the pier, train station, Rambaldi, Devlin, Kendall, Sydney…

His screaming stopped. The pain did not. He looked down, and almost vomited. The scalpel was still there. He realized that Sark had finished his speech to Weiss, and was now looking at him with satisfaction.

"Let me tell you one thing, Michael," Irina said. "If you try to screw me over, this will happen again. Be very careful. Or you will crash and burn."