Author's Note: Another literary masterpiece (only joking!) for your enjoyment.
Sydney stood nervously in Devlin's office, her face struggling to remain composed. She clasped her hands firmly behind her back and stared defiantly at the men in the room. Devlin sat opposite from her, leaning back in his chair. If he put his feet up on the desk, Sydney vowed to personally break them. Sitting behind and slightly to her left was Vaughn; once again wearing the designer suits she'd grown so used to seeing him in. The only thing marring his otherwise perfect appearance was the ungainly cast still encasing his arm. He stared straight ahead, ignoring her.
The other person in the room stood in the corner, leaning back in an apparently casual pose. But Jack Bristow was never casual, and Sydney could see the barely contained tension in his posture. He also ignored her, examining Devlin with an impassive face. Sydney turned back to Devlin.
"What are we doing here?" she asked abruptly. Devlin looked taken aback at her bluntness, then sat up straighter, resting his hands flat on the desk.
"You're here so I can give you the rest of your details before you go back to SD-6," he said in a patronising tone. Sydney struggled not to sneer at him, but Vaughn and Jack remained motionless. If his tone had offended either of them, it didn't show in their faces.
"Get on with it then," Sydney demanded coldly. Devlin stared at her for a moment, then nodded.
"I take it you know Sloane is dead. Murdered," Devlin started. Sydney and Vaughn nodded, and Sydney had to fight from looking towards her father. Maybe she wanted to know, maybe she didn't. She remained staring steadfastly forward.
"Your point?" Sydney asked, her temper getting the better of her.
"Watch it, Syd," Vaughn murmured under his breath. Sydney gritted her teeth and plastered a fake smile on her face.
"My point is that you don't know all the details, which is why you're here," Devlin said, ignoring Vaughn. Sydney ground her teeth, the smile still firmly in place.
"Your father is acting head of SD-6, a position that we hope will be made permanent," Devlin started. Sydney turned to stare at her father. He stared back, his blank face revealing nothing. She turned away, and Devlin continued.
"Your missions will still be going ahead as planned. You'll be provided with more details later, but the gist of it is that you'll be going to Switzerland. Geneva to be specific. The possibility of confirmation of your father's new position rides on the success on this mission, so I don't want any hitches, problems, breaks of protocol. If any mission of yours is to go perfect, Agent Bristow, I need it to be this one. You are dismissed," Devlin said, turning his attention to some paperwork in front of him. Sydney turned to go, when she remembered something.
"What about Francie?" she asked. Devlin looked up at her, irritated.
"That's none of your concern," he said tersely, dismissing her with a wave. Sydney opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind when a hand touched her arm. She followed the arm to Vaughn's face. He shook his head at her. She shrugged his arm off, then stormed out of the room. Vaughn sighed and walked out after her.
"Sydney! Wait!" Vaughn called, jogging down the hall after her. Sydney stopped but didn't turn around. Vaughn caught up, and spun her to face him. She looked up at him, her eyes wild.
"How dare he?! She's my friend, my best friend, and he says that it's not my concern!! That…assshole!!" she raved. Vaughn looked around anxiously then dragged her into a nearby room. Thankfully it was empty. He shut the door behind him carefully, then turned to face Sydney.
"Sydney, you need to calm down," he said, his forehead wrinkled in concern. Sydney's eyes flicked up, then she giggled in spite of herself. Vaughn looked confused.
"What?" he asked. Sydney giggled harder and looked away.
"You are so easy to read. Just count the number of forehead wrinkles…right now I'd say you are pretty stressed," she said. Vaughn looked bemused, and reached up to his forehead. He frowned harder, then shook his head.
"Do you think you can handle this mission?" he asked, ignoring the way her shoulders were still shaking with laughter. She turned to face him, her beautiful face sombre.
"I should be able to but…I wont really be able to concentrate if I'm constantly worried about Francie," she admitted. Vaughn gave her an undecipherable look.
"My friend's there too, you know," he said quietly. Sydney's hand flew to her mouth.
"Oh, god, I'm sorry! I completely forgot! God, I am so self-centred," she proclaimed. Vaughn shook his head.
"No you aren't. You're just worried about your friend, which is completely justified. However, if it's going to interfere with the mission I need to know," he said. Sydney thought for a moment, then determination filled her face.
"It wont. I promise," she said, her voice steady. Vaughn nodded, then an evil grin lit up his face.
"You're so cute when you're determined," he said, kissing her lightly. Sydney drew back.
"Not here!" she whispered her eyes wide. Vaughn sighed in resignation, then nodded. He rested his forehead against hers for a minute, then let go.
"You'd better go. They'll be expecting you," he said. Sydney smiled, then left the room. Vaughn sat down heavily on the desk and stared off into space.
*
Francie leaned back into the car seat, her heart racing. Suddenly she felt a jab at her neck, and she gasped. A gloved hand reached around and clamped over her mouth. She let out a quiet whimper, and her heart pounded.
"This is for our protection. Don't make any sudden moves," a voice whispered in her ear. The words were almost reasonable, but the tone promised things that Francie didn't ever want to know. She nodded her head slightly, her breath coming in quick rushes.
"Good," whispered the voice again, and the hand withdrew from her mouth. Francie started to slump in relief, but the thing pressed against her neck dug in deeper. She sat up straighter, more frightened than she'd ever been in her life.
"Take us there," said the voice to the driver. Francie tried to see out the window, so she'd know where she was going but the man behind her turned her head back so sharply she winced.
"You didn't think we'd let you see us, did you?" taunted the voice. A black piece of cloth was tied around her eyes, rendering her eyes useless. Francie sat in the darkness and tried to calm herself. She listened out for any sound that she could use to identify the location later. There were none.
*
Sydney sat herself done at the conference table in the Credit Dauphine building and looked around. Everyone had the same mildly shocked expression on their face, and Marshall looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. She frowned at him, concerned.
"Marshall, are you all right?" she asked. He nodded, but didn't say anything, which heightened Sydney's concerns rather than dampen them. She turned to Dixon, who leaned over to her.
"Sloane's suicide hit him pretty hard. He hasn't been himself since," he explained. Sydney nodded, then examined Dixon's own face. Black bags hung under his puffy eyes, and he seemed pale but she wasn't quite sure. All she knew was that she was glad that she'd taken the time to fix herself up before she came into the room. After all, her father had told them that she'd been attending a funeral for a close aunt when the news about Sloane's death had reached her. Most of her bruises from the escape had faded, but several remained. Fortunately, she'd covered them up with some extremely pale concealer. The final result- she looked as pale and drawn as the rest of them.
The noise of a door opening drew Sydney out of her reverie, and she looked up at the door. Her father walked in, his face even more blank than usual. Sydney tried to read any expression of it, but it was as impossible as it had been in Devlin's office. He started to sit down in his usual seat, then thought better of it and sat in Sloane's. Marshall looked away for a moment, then back again. Jack Bristow cleared his throat.
"Arvin's death has affected us all, but as you all know we must continue his work," he said in a gruff voice. Dixon sat up straighter and looked attentive.
"The other SD sections could use this as an excuse to shut us down, and we don't want that. So I'm sending this mission ahead as planned. The details are as follows: we've received news that K-Directorate is in Geneva. We don't know what they're doing there and we want to find out. Sydney and Dixon will be going to Geneva to take surveillance photos of the meeting places, and try to make recordings of what's being said. Marshall, I'm leaving the technical stuff up to you," Jack said. Marshall looked up and nodded a bit of his old exuberance returning.
"Dismissed," Jack said, then left the room without a second glance. Sydney sat where she was for a minute, then stood up to leave. Marshall turned to her.
"I've got some great ideas, I was watching James Bond last night…man I love those movies, he's so smooth, anyway…I was watching Q, do you think I'm like him at all? He's my role model…so anyway, I was watching it and wondering where he got all his ideas from when it hit me…" Marshall said. Sydney smiled at him.
"I'm sure you have a point in there somewhere, I just don't know where," she joked. Marshall grinned, chasing away some of the shadows that had filled his face.
"Oh, sorry. If you can come down later, I'll show you what you'll be using," he said hurriedly, then walked away. Dixon leaned over to her.
"You know, that's the most lively I've seen him in days. I knew you could help him," he said. Sydney's cheeks coloured slightly.
"Umm…I only hope I can," she said, her eyes following Marshall down the stairs. Her pager beeped, and she jumped slightly, digging it out of her purse.
"Oh, I have to take this. I'll meet you with Marshall in about an hour?" she suggested. Dixon nodded, and Sydney shrugged on her jacket and dashed for the elevator.
*
The engine died, and Francie let out a sigh of relief. The door next to her opened, and she was pulled out of the car. She stumbled slightly, then reached up to remove the blindfold.
"Not until you're inside," said the voice again. Francie vowed that when she found the owner of that voice, he was going to be singing soprano for a month. She allowed herself to be led up a flight over stair, stumbling slightly, and down a long corridor. Finally she heard a door close, and the voice spoke up again.
"You may remove the blindfold now," it said. Francie ripped it off and threw it on the floor. Then she looked around the room- it looked like a police interrogation room. There was a desk in the centre of it, with a small recorder sitting on it along with some other equipment she didn't recognise. Along one wall was a one way mirror. Francie longed to know who was on the other side, but wasn't stupid enough to ask. Standing in the corner was the owner of the voice.
He was a relatively tall man, with dark hair and eyes. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and he wore a long trenchcoat. Francie studied his face intently, memorising it for if the opportunity arose. He gestured for her to sit down. She resisted the urge to spit at him and complied. He left the room, and another man entered. He kept his back to her, reading through her file. Finally he turned around, placing the folder on the desk. Francie didn't recognise him. He sat down in front of her and cleared his throat.
"Are you Cassandra Francine Vasquez?" he asked. His voice was tainted by the slightest of accents, but Francie couldn't place it.
"Yes," she said, proud of the way her voice remained steady. He nodded vaguely.
"And you work under the alias Francie Calfo, correct?" he asked again. Francie nodded. He smiled suddenly.
"Good. If you would place your hand on the pad to your left please," he said, more of a statement than a question. Francie's eyes flicked to the left.
"Why?" she asked defiantly. The man sighed.
"For our records, so we're certain that you are who you claim you are," he said tiredly. Francie frowned, but lay her hand on the pad. It scanned her hand, then beeped cheerily.
"See? That was easy, wasn't it?" said the man. Francie struggled not to punch him then and there. Instead she settled for narrowing her eyes and glaring at him.
"Attitude wont get you anywhere, Ms. Vasquez. We simply want to ask you a few questions, then send you on your way," he said in a oh-so-reasonable voice. Francie frowned, but nodded.
"Good. Let us begin then," he said. Francie didn't like the way he said that.
*
Weiss paced the hotel room. He'd long since figured out the dimensions, but he couldn't bring himself to do something as mindless as watching television. Instead, he ground his footsteps into the carpet. The curtains were flung open, revealing a spectacular view but Weiss saw none of it. All he saw was the look on Francie's face when he'd told her the mission. The fear quickly smothered with determination. He admitted it to himself. He was worried sick about a person he'd only just met.
He'd rung Devlin to get the status on Mike and Sydney, but all he'd been told was that they were "unreachable at the moment, and their details were of a need-to-know basis." Weiss frowned, he'd heard that one before. Several times, each one involving a mission that grew more and more dangerous, culminating in that trip to Taipei. He'd vowed never to be in a situation like that again, and here he was. Pacing a hotel room, stomping his worries about three people into the carpet.
He glanced at his watch. She'd been gone for two hours now, and realistically she could be gone for several more. He resumed his frenetic pacings.
Author's Note: You know, I think this may be the longest chapter in this story…well, now that I have the free time (no more school til February!) you can all expect to see longer chapters. If you have a problem, tell me about it in a review. If you don't…tell me about it in a review!