Chapter Six
Three Years
It was raining the next morning, as he stood outside, clutching his one suitcase. Rain is a good way to hide tears, but he didn't cry. Dead men don't cry.
Everyone in small party wore rain jackets, and he watched the rain slide off his arms with a sort of dazed interest. No one would have ever guessed that hidden under the jackets of all his companions were an assortment of guns. So they valued him enough to give him an armed escort. Or they valued his information, either way it didn't matter anymore.
The whole world was gray it seemed, gray like the walls of his cell. There would be a part of him that would never again be free.
He had dreamed the night before. The urgency of it still haunted him, setting all his nerves on edge. In his dream, Sydney had been waiting for him at home, but he had forgotten where home was.
Jack Bristow glanced at his watch again, the plane wasn't late, it just seemed to be some sort of nervous habit. Vaughn thought it was strange how Jack had volunteered to lead the group seeing him off. Almost touching, considering the history between the two of them.
She was among them before they knew what was happening, and she was in his arms before they could even aim their guns. She was good at what she did.
He caught her instinctively when she hurled herself at him, dropping his suitcase in a puddle and splattering water on their legs.
"I hate you sometimes," she breathed before setting her mouth on his.
When she finally let him go, he was too awed for a moment to say anything, only rubbed his hand along his jaw. "What--Why?"
"Because you have the worst timing in the world. Not only was the guard dragging me out the door, but you were leaving the next day, probably forever..." she trailed off as she realized that was exactly what was happening. "Give three years."
"Wha-Three...?" He still didn't feel quite coherent.
"If you love me, you'll give me three years to finish what I'm doing here. Three years at the most."
While she waited for his answer, he couldn't help but watch the water drip off her nose. Couldn't help but place a kiss on the end of it. "That's all you want from me?"
She smiled, and his heart rose. Three years, he can do this. "That, and your dreams."
"And my prayers."
"And your prayers."
Jack's voice cut into their bubble of happiness. "The plane's almost here. Sydney will have to be gone before they get here, no one's supposed to know you're here." Thanks, Jack.
Saying goodbye was easy this time. And she left him again, but not quite alone, never alone.
Three years. It's not so long when you think about it.
A/N: So, does it take three years? And what happens then? Well, you might have to wait for it, unless I can get it written in an hour and thirty minutes because I'm going on vacation! Don't forget to review while I'm gone!
Three Years
It was raining the next morning, as he stood outside, clutching his one suitcase. Rain is a good way to hide tears, but he didn't cry. Dead men don't cry.
Everyone in small party wore rain jackets, and he watched the rain slide off his arms with a sort of dazed interest. No one would have ever guessed that hidden under the jackets of all his companions were an assortment of guns. So they valued him enough to give him an armed escort. Or they valued his information, either way it didn't matter anymore.
The whole world was gray it seemed, gray like the walls of his cell. There would be a part of him that would never again be free.
He had dreamed the night before. The urgency of it still haunted him, setting all his nerves on edge. In his dream, Sydney had been waiting for him at home, but he had forgotten where home was.
Jack Bristow glanced at his watch again, the plane wasn't late, it just seemed to be some sort of nervous habit. Vaughn thought it was strange how Jack had volunteered to lead the group seeing him off. Almost touching, considering the history between the two of them.
She was among them before they knew what was happening, and she was in his arms before they could even aim their guns. She was good at what she did.
He caught her instinctively when she hurled herself at him, dropping his suitcase in a puddle and splattering water on their legs.
"I hate you sometimes," she breathed before setting her mouth on his.
When she finally let him go, he was too awed for a moment to say anything, only rubbed his hand along his jaw. "What--Why?"
"Because you have the worst timing in the world. Not only was the guard dragging me out the door, but you were leaving the next day, probably forever..." she trailed off as she realized that was exactly what was happening. "Give three years."
"Wha-Three...?" He still didn't feel quite coherent.
"If you love me, you'll give me three years to finish what I'm doing here. Three years at the most."
While she waited for his answer, he couldn't help but watch the water drip off her nose. Couldn't help but place a kiss on the end of it. "That's all you want from me?"
She smiled, and his heart rose. Three years, he can do this. "That, and your dreams."
"And my prayers."
"And your prayers."
Jack's voice cut into their bubble of happiness. "The plane's almost here. Sydney will have to be gone before they get here, no one's supposed to know you're here." Thanks, Jack.
Saying goodbye was easy this time. And she left him again, but not quite alone, never alone.
Three years. It's not so long when you think about it.
A/N: So, does it take three years? And what happens then? Well, you might have to wait for it, unless I can get it written in an hour and thirty minutes because I'm going on vacation! Don't forget to review while I'm gone!