Disclaimer: You know how this works, none of its mine...
Chapter One
Blood and Darkness
"...Vaughn..."
Who? Sydney? What was she doing here? Wait, where was here?
"Wake up, Mr. Vaughn."
Mr. Vaughn? Not Sydney then. But who?
It took him what seemed like minutes to finally open his eyes. Whoever it was, they were patient. His head throbbed with the effort, and the colors reeled and spun, finally settling in splotches of red and gray, not an attractive mix. It reminded him of blood and darkness, two things he can live without.
"That's right, Mr. Vaughn. Take it easy, this can't be comfortable."
It wasn't. Something sticky dripped down his neck, and he became aware of a distinctive fire in his wrists. He wiggled them experimentally, but it only made it worse. He blinked several times, the depth and light coming back into his vision, dissolving the colors into shades of black, white, and pink.
Crows, clouds, and candy hearts.
"Candy hearts, Mr. Vaughn? I think it's about time get up, and I know just the way..."
Pain. And his eyes cleared with frightening speed, showing him a small, square gray room lit by a single bare bulb, and a face he'd seen only in pictures. It's so close he can see every pore, feel the hot sting of breath on his neck. It took longer for the name to penetrate his muzzy conscious: Arvin Sloane.
Oh God, they have Sydney.
"We've been watching you for quite awhile, Mr. Vaughn. Very impressive, so young for a job like yours."
Donovan. He'd been walking Donovan. It had been the man with the briefcase following him; it was so obvious now, looking back.
"Now, you might know that we have a little rodent problem, and I was hoping you might be able to help."
They don't know it's Sydney. Relief flooded his body, bringing him a little peace of mind.
Sloane took an almost gentle hold of his middle finger, expertly bending it to the angle that would cause the most agony, and slowly applying more pressure.
NO. He clamped his teeth over is tongue, drawing blood; if fear had a taste, it would taste like blood. For your country, for the safety of your country, keep silent. Not even a whimper to let them know they're hurting you.
He whimpered. The pain was driving him out of his head, escalating until he strained to here the snap of bones that did not come. Damn the country, they'd never remember him anyway.
For her, then. For her smiles, her frowns, all those tears, for her life. For Sydney.
The actual feel of his bones breaking was sweet release. His whole body quivered with the feeling, driving sore spots against the harsh metal of the chair.
"Hmmm...Interesting. Those are some nasty cuts, Mr. Vaughn. Are you sure you've had all your shots? We better make sure, just in case."
The needle appeared to his left, conveniently in his line of vision so he could watch the clear liquid spill over, beading down the sides. An irrational part of his minds wondered vaguely if the needle was sterile while his eyes traveled up to the face of the henchman holding it.
Jack Bristow; he should have known. Jack had never liked him; it would be so easy to rid himself of this nuisance now. And it would all fall under the excuse of keeping Sydney safe.
The needle penetrated the skin of his arm, and he could almost feel death tracing itself in ugly black lines through his veins.
He turned inward before it could reach him, concentrating on all those little tips he had been given to survive just such a situation. Too bad he had never believed it would happen to him.
1..2..3...Je vous salue, Marie...2..3...Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce, le Seigneur et avec vous...4..5...Vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes, et Jesus...5..5...et Jesus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni...6...Sainte Marie, mère de Dieu...7..8...priez pour nous, pauvres pécheurs...9...maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort. Amen...10.
And the world fell away.
A/N: Do you really think I'd let Vaughn die? VAUGHN? Seriously, read and review and wait for the next chapter.
Chapter One
Blood and Darkness
"...Vaughn..."
Who? Sydney? What was she doing here? Wait, where was here?
"Wake up, Mr. Vaughn."
Mr. Vaughn? Not Sydney then. But who?
It took him what seemed like minutes to finally open his eyes. Whoever it was, they were patient. His head throbbed with the effort, and the colors reeled and spun, finally settling in splotches of red and gray, not an attractive mix. It reminded him of blood and darkness, two things he can live without.
"That's right, Mr. Vaughn. Take it easy, this can't be comfortable."
It wasn't. Something sticky dripped down his neck, and he became aware of a distinctive fire in his wrists. He wiggled them experimentally, but it only made it worse. He blinked several times, the depth and light coming back into his vision, dissolving the colors into shades of black, white, and pink.
Crows, clouds, and candy hearts.
"Candy hearts, Mr. Vaughn? I think it's about time get up, and I know just the way..."
Pain. And his eyes cleared with frightening speed, showing him a small, square gray room lit by a single bare bulb, and a face he'd seen only in pictures. It's so close he can see every pore, feel the hot sting of breath on his neck. It took longer for the name to penetrate his muzzy conscious: Arvin Sloane.
Oh God, they have Sydney.
"We've been watching you for quite awhile, Mr. Vaughn. Very impressive, so young for a job like yours."
Donovan. He'd been walking Donovan. It had been the man with the briefcase following him; it was so obvious now, looking back.
"Now, you might know that we have a little rodent problem, and I was hoping you might be able to help."
They don't know it's Sydney. Relief flooded his body, bringing him a little peace of mind.
Sloane took an almost gentle hold of his middle finger, expertly bending it to the angle that would cause the most agony, and slowly applying more pressure.
NO. He clamped his teeth over is tongue, drawing blood; if fear had a taste, it would taste like blood. For your country, for the safety of your country, keep silent. Not even a whimper to let them know they're hurting you.
He whimpered. The pain was driving him out of his head, escalating until he strained to here the snap of bones that did not come. Damn the country, they'd never remember him anyway.
For her, then. For her smiles, her frowns, all those tears, for her life. For Sydney.
The actual feel of his bones breaking was sweet release. His whole body quivered with the feeling, driving sore spots against the harsh metal of the chair.
"Hmmm...Interesting. Those are some nasty cuts, Mr. Vaughn. Are you sure you've had all your shots? We better make sure, just in case."
The needle appeared to his left, conveniently in his line of vision so he could watch the clear liquid spill over, beading down the sides. An irrational part of his minds wondered vaguely if the needle was sterile while his eyes traveled up to the face of the henchman holding it.
Jack Bristow; he should have known. Jack had never liked him; it would be so easy to rid himself of this nuisance now. And it would all fall under the excuse of keeping Sydney safe.
The needle penetrated the skin of his arm, and he could almost feel death tracing itself in ugly black lines through his veins.
He turned inward before it could reach him, concentrating on all those little tips he had been given to survive just such a situation. Too bad he had never believed it would happen to him.
1..2..3...Je vous salue, Marie...2..3...Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grâce, le Seigneur et avec vous...4..5...Vous êtes bénie entre toutes les femmes, et Jesus...5..5...et Jesus, le fruit de vos entrailles, est béni...6...Sainte Marie, mère de Dieu...7..8...priez pour nous, pauvres pécheurs...9...maintenant et à l'heure de notre mort. Amen...10.
And the world fell away.
A/N: Do you really think I'd let Vaughn die? VAUGHN? Seriously, read and review and wait for the next chapter.