Author's Note: Well, this is the end. And the longest chapter in the story.
~This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has reviewed me in general; and to Stoko981 in particular, whose words encouraged me to continue writing this story. Thank you, it really means a lot to me.~
Weiss looked out the window, watching the sun set. He glanced at his watch again; seeing that it had only been 5 minutes since the last time he'd checked it. Francie had been gone for 9 hours. Weiss turned away from the window and looked at the phone. It was time to call.
He lifted the phone off the receiver and waited for the dial tone. Then he punched in the number and waited for it to connect.
"CIA Headquarters, LA, how may I connect you?" came a bored drawl over the line. Weiss smiled in spite of himself. Answering the phones would be an extremely uninteresting job, he could sympathise.
"Devlin's office," he told the receptionist, then listened to the hold music. It played away merrily for a minute, then was sharply cut off.
"Devlin," said a brusque voice.
"It's Agent Weiss," Weiss identified himself. He heard a deep sigh over the line.
"What is it Weiss?" Devlin asked tiredly. Weiss took a deep breath, struggling to keep his voice steady.
"Francie's still in there," he said. There was a pregnant pause.
"How long?"
"9 hours."
"…All right. You know what to do," Devlin said cryptically. Weiss glanced back out the window.
"Do I have authorisation?"
"Yes. Do it." The line cut off. Weiss placed the phone down gently and grabbed his shoes. He pulled them on, holstered his gun and grabbed his keys. He allowed himself one last glance around the room, then head outside.
*
"Could she be lying?"
"Impossible to tell. Her anxiety levels are too high."
"Do we have any reason to doubt her?"
"Her story has many holes. Why wouldn't Bristow inform us of his suspicion of Sloane? Why didn't anyone else notice?"
"She has been undercover for longer than recommended…could she have begun to absorb her role?"
"Possible. Her reaction to her real name was delayed, it's possible that she thinks of herself as Francie Calfo."
"Where do the others stand?"
"The risk is high. It must be eliminated."
"…do it."
*
Sydney hung from the rafter of the nearby warehouse, ignoring the way the harness cut into her body uncomfortably. She lifted the night vision headset to her eyes and looked through the window opposite.
"Target spotted," she whispered into the microphone concealed in her collar.
"Keep with them," came Dixon's reply. Sydney snorted quietly. Keep with them; honestly, what did he think she was going to do? Eat a pizza? Sydney neglected to answer him, instead turning her attention back to the job at hand. She watched the man they'd identified as K-Directorate closely, trying to read his lips. It was impossible, and she knew it, but she had to do something or she'd die of boredom. The man just seemed to be talking, and was showing no sign of leaving. She adjusted the harness for a better line of sight.
*
Weiss tore down the icy roads, ignoring the speed limit completely. His eyes flicked over to the clock briefly. It had been 10 minutes since he left the hotel, and his estimated time of arrival at the warehouse that had been identified as the most likely SD holding place was in about 10 more minutes. He pushed his foot down harder on the accelerator, pushing the car harder. As far as he was concerned it had already been too long.
*
Francie sat in the holding cell after pacing for half an hour. She had told her story in her most believable manner, but something must be up. Why else would they be taking so long? Suddenly she turned and began pounding hard on the one-way mirror. The sounds reverberated around the room, bringing a nice break from the deathly quiet that had surrounded her for hours.
Her fists started to hurt and she stopped pounding. She cradled her hands to her chest and slid down the wall opposite, landing with a barely audible thud. She hugged her knees to her chest and laid her head on them. Then she began to sob.
*
Dixon sat in the van, watching the video pickups Sydney had provided. He pulled on a pair of headphones and adjusted the volume on the audio pickups they'd planted. They were still exchanging pleasantries. Dixon growled in frustration.
"How long does it take?" he asked rhetorically. The only answer he received was a blinking message on one of the screens.
"What the…?" he asked, pulling the headphones off and tossing them onto the table. He stood up and looked at it more closely.
"Sydney, I have to radio silent for a minute- priority message from HQ," he said quickly down his own microphone. Without waiting for her reply he hit the switch and opened a channel.
"Hello?" he asked warily.
"Identify yourself," demanded a voice that Dixon had never heard before.
"Dixon," he answered, his curiosity intrigued. They'd never received a priority override from HQ before.
"Is Agent Bristow with you?" asked the voice. Dixon glanced quickly over at the video pickups. Sydney was obviously bored, the camera kept jolting. If he had to venture a guess, he'd say she was fiddling with her harness straps.
"Yes," he said finally.
"Is she able to hear this conversation?"
"No," Dixon said.
"Good. There's been a problem…"
*
Jack Bristow was just about to leave for home when something caught his attention. He placed his briefcase on the floor carefully, turning back to his computer. A priority message was flashing on the screen. Jack sighed, he couldn't ignore it. He sat back down on his swivel chair and opened the message. He read it carefully.
"Oh shit…" he murmured, and then ran out the door, forgetting his briefcase in his rush.
*
Weiss parked the car violently, not caring if he damaged it or not. He threw off his seatbelt and pulled the key out of the ignition so roughly he almost broke the soft metal shaft off. He cursed under his breath and opened the door roughly, climbing out of the car. Then he slammed the door shut and turned to face the building. Taking a deep breath he began to jog towards the side entrance. Security should be light, it was only a temporary holding place.
He pulled on the door handle. Locked.
"Arrrrrrgh!" he yelled, frustrated, and then remembered the lock pick in his pocket. He pulled it out, inserted it in the keyhole and jimmied the lock. It unlocked with a barely audible click and Weiss grinned to himself. He shoved the pick back into his pocket and opened the door slowly. It looked clear, so he entered, shutting the door behind him. Then he crept down the dank concrete corridor, looking for Francie.
*
The sound of the door opening snapped Francie's attention back to the present. She stopped crying and climbed to her feet, watching the door handle turn. The door opened slowly, and the man entered. Francie struggle, and barely succeeded, in concealing her sneer.
"Well?" she asked impatiently. The man said nothing, merely reached around behind his back. Something in his eyes alerted Francie, and she watched his hand with a terrible realisation. The man pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at her.
"I'm sorry," said the man, not sounding the least bit apologetic. He clicked off the safety, spurning Francie into action. She kicked the man in the head as hard as she could, causing him to slump to the ground, unconscious…
But she was just a fraction of a second too late. The gun went off with an almost deafening noise, and Francie felt something enter her stomach violently, tearing through her body. Then came the pain, a horrible burning feeling. She fell back against the table, her hands immediately going to her stomach. They encountered a sticky wetness, and she lifted them to her eyes. Red blood dripped from them, and she let out a tiny sob. The pain was incredible.
Holding her hands firmly to the wound, Francie stumbled out the door. The world shifted dramatically. She started to fall against the wall and threw her hand out, leaving a bloodstain against the wall. She whimpered quietly, and then headed in what she was pretty sure was the direction of the exit. She knew she didn't have long before the others would come.
*
Sydney fiddled with her harness straps some more. The man she was supposed to be watching still hadn't moved, and Dixon was still radio silent. She wondered what the Alliance could possibly want with him. She glanced at her wristwatch. 10 minutes since Dixon had cut her off. She sighed and lifted the night vision goggles to her face again.
*
Jack burst into Devlin's office, ignoring the protests of his secretary. Devlin glared up at him, infuriated
"I'm busy, Jack!" he hissed, stacking his paperwork. Jack stared down at him dangerously.
"Look at this," he growled, slamming a crumpled piece of paper down on the desk hard enough to make Devlin jump. He reached over and picked up the piece of paper carefully, his irritation fading. He read through it, his expression changing from fury to horror. He looked up at Jack, his face suddenly terribly old. Jack merely glared back at him.
"You know what we have to do," Devlin said quietly. Jack nodded, resigned. Devlin stood and led him out of the office. The door slammed shut. The paper blew off the desk and onto the floor, revealing the simple message.
Order of Immediate Elimination
Targets: Cassandra Vasquez, Sydney Bristow and Jack Bristow.
*
A sound behind her startled Sydney, and she berated herself for being so lax. She turned slowly, dreading what she would see.
She looked down a gun barrel, a sight that she had seen all to many times in her life. Her eyes followed the gun barrel to the hand the held it. They flicked upwards, and what she saw caught her breath.
"Dixon?" she whispered, her voice shaking. Dixon stared back at her, his face impassive. The safety clicked off…
*
Vaughn glared at his mobile phone as it rung urgently. It refused to shut up, and he gave up. Sighing, he hit the answer button and lifted it to his ear.
"Michael Vaughn," he said, his voice betraying his thinly veiled annoyance.
"There's an order of assassination for Jack, Sydney and Francie," said Devlin, his voice tired. Vaughn nearly dropped the phone.
"What?! When?!" he demanded, shocked.
"About 10 minutes ago. Any SD-6 agent is to shoot her on sight," Devlin added. A sudden, chilling fear filled Vaughn.
"Dixon…" he whispered, and then ran out of the hotel room.
*
Francie stumbled around another corner that lead into another long corridor, ignoring the black spots in front of her eyes. She stared at the red bloodstain on the wall for a moment, and then burst into tears. Circles. She was going in circles. She turned back around and looked down the hall she'd just come down. Black whorls limited her vision, and she knew she'd lost too much blood. She took a deep breath, ignoring the agony it elicited, and stumbled back the way she'd come.
Weiss tore around the corner, listening for any sign of Francie. He spotted something on one of the walls and ran to it. A bloodstain, still wet. Dread filled him, and he pulled out his gun and ran around another corner. The sight that greeted him took his breath away.
A slight figure was stumbling down the hallway in front of him, whimpering softly. Suddenly she slid to the floor, coughing. Weiss ran to her and rolled her over.
"Francie…" he whispered, staring at the pale face in front of him. He looked down and hissed. The front of her clothes was covered in blood, and she was shivering slightly. Her face was deathly pale. A shaking hand reached up and touched his face, smearing blood on his cheek.
"Eric…" she managed to say. Her hand fell to her side and she coughed slightly. Weis shifted her in his arms, holding her closer to him, ignoring her whimpers.
"So cold…" Francie gasped. Weiss laid a finger on her lips, trying to shush her.
"Don't talk," he said, his voice rough with emotion. She shook her head defiantly.
"Lost…too much blood…not going to make it…" she coughed out. Weiss shook his own head in denial.
"No…no, you're going to be fine…we still have to go on our date, remember?" he whispered to her. She laughed softly, a small gurgling noise. Dark blood trickled out of the side of her mouth and ran down the side of her face.
"I'm…sorry…" she choked out. Weiss bent his head down over hers, his shoulders shaking.
"Don't talk like that," he said through his tears. Francie smiled slightly at him.
"I'm…. not scared…anymore," she whispered. She held her fingers to her lips and kissed them, then touched Weiss face with them. He held her hand to his face, and she started to cough again, choking on her own blood. Unshed tears filled Weiss' eyes, and Francie smiled at him one last time. Then her body went limp. Weiss shook her slightly, but she didn't move. He hugged her close to his body and sobbed, rocking her back and forth.
*
Dixon stared down at Sydney, the woman he'd shared so much with and knew that he couldn't kill her. She looked back at him, her face full of emotions. Dixon sighed.
"There's an order for any agent to kill you on sight," he told her. She looked shocked, then nodded up at him.
"I'd rather you do it then," she said, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. Dixon stared down at her slender frame, her beautiful face. His hands shook as he pulled the trigger.
Sydney jerked backwards as the bullet impacted with her bullet-proof vest. The pain was sharp, but she'd felt worse. She stared up at Dixon, confused. He knew she was wearing a vest. He shot her a quick, sad smile.
"Run," he said, turning away. She stood up and walked over to him.
"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, and then sprinted for the exit. Dixon waited until he heard the door close before turning around.
"Good luck," he whispered back.
*
Weiss sat in the car, making a conscious effort not to look at the shape in the backseat of the car. He couldn't himself to leave her there, she deserved a proper burial. Still crying softly he reached for his mobile phone and dialled the number.
*
Devlin snatched the phone up before it could even finish the first ring. "Devlin," he said.
"She's dead…" said a hoarse voice quietly. Devlin sat up straighter.
"Weiss?" he asked uncertainly.
"They killed her…just shot her…didn't have a chance…" whispered the voice.
"Where are you?" asked Devlin urgently. Something in his voice must have helped Weiss begin to think.
"I'm…in the carpark…she's in the backseat…" he said, his emotions barely controlled.
"Okay…I'm sending someone for you now. Don't move…" Devlin said. The only reply he received was the sounds of quiet sobbing.
*
Vaughn was waiting for Sydney in the designated switch point, hoping she'd think to come here. He needn't have worried; her slight frame tore around the corner and nearly knocked him over. She stopped dead and stared at him, then hugged him. He patted her back awkwardly with his plastered hand. She'd obviously left in the middle of the mission; she was still her equipment belt. After a minute she pulled away, wincing slightly.
"Are you alright?" asked Vaughn, concerned. She nodded, sending her hair flying.
"Dixon shot me," she said casually. Vaughn's face paled suddenly, and her hand flew to her mouth.
"I didn't mean it that way! I mean, I did get shot, but he shot me in my vest and told me to run," she explained. Vaughn nodded in understanding.
"So you know about the assassination order?" she asked. Vaughn nodded again, more serious this time.
"When did you find out?" Sydney asked.
"About 13 minutes ago," Vaughn said, his voice hiding the terrible worry that had plagued him for those 13 minutes. Sydney noticed anyway.
"I'm alright," she comforted him. Vaughn nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. Suddenly his mobile rang, startling them both. Vaughn smiled sheepishly at Sydney, who smiled back. He answered the phone.
"Michael Vaughn…yes, she's fine…what?! When?! …Oh god…Weiss? ….yes…yes, I'll tell her…
Vaughn turned away from Sydney, his shoulders shaking slightly. Sydney stared at him, not sure if she wanted to know what was wrong. After a minute Vaughn turned around to face her and tried to run his hand across his eyes, forgetting his cast. He frowned at it, then looked at Sydney. Unshed tears stood in his startling green eyes and he cleared his throat.
"Francie…?" Sydney whispered. Vaughn nodded.
"They…they shot her…and she…she didn't make it," Vaughn choked out. Sydney stared at him in shock for a minute, and then her beautiful face crumpled. She broke down into heart wrenching sobs, unable to move. Vaughn touched her shoulders cautiously, and she buried her face in his chest, sobbing into his shirt. Vaughn hugged her to him, comforting her.
They stood there for about 20 minutes before her sobs slowed. She looked up at Vaughn, her face ravaged by tears.
"Now what?" she asked in a steady voice, and Vaughn marvelled inwardly at her strength.
"You have to join your father," he said quietly. Sydney frowned.
"…Witness protection?" she asked quietly. Vaughn nodded, and she buried her face back in his chest. He led her away into the night.
~Epilogue~
6 months later, a red haired woman stood on a beach on the French Riviera. A handsome man with light brown hair and green eyes stood beside her, lost in thought. An older man looked on, his face worn. After a minute the woman turned to face the man, her chocolate brown eyes searching his face.
"Why did you come?" she asked. Michael Vaughn smiled down at her.
"I love you," he said quietly. The woman smiled at him, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"How is he?" the woman asked. Michael sighed tiredly.
"He's been better…but he's been worse. He wishes he could be here," he said. The woman turned back to the ocean, her face sad. She knelt down and placed the white lily she held in her hand into the water. The waves swept it away, and tears slid down her cheeks.
"I miss you Francie," said Sydney, and then turned back to the house.
The End
Author's Note: There. The End. Well, what did you think? This is the last time I ask for reviews in this story, so come on. Please?
Anyway, thank you so much for sticking with this story, and I hope you all enjoyed it.