A/N: Just wanted to say thanks for all the great reviews, you guys don't know how good they make me feel! :) Sorry this chapter is so awkward, I had trouble making it come out right, I hope it'll get better soon!
Chapter Four---Friends
He came down late that morning, dragging his sweatpants out from his suitcase, and completing a briefer version of his morning ritual, but when he got to the kitchen, only Sydney was there. She stood with her back to him for a long time before she turned around, her shoulders heaving up in a long breath, but it was still obvious by the red rings around her eyes that she had been crying. It pained him to avert his eyes, ignore her pain, but it was no longer his place to ask after the reason for her tears, much less give comfort.
"Eggs?" she offered cheerily, shoving a plate at him. He caught it in one hand while the other accepted a fork. He brought a mouthful up, chewing it thoughtfully as he thought up something to say.
"Laramie isn't up yet?"
Sydney frowned at her own breakfast before dropping it untouched into the trash. "She hardly ever wakes up until after noon on the weekends."
He smiled at bit to himself, dropping the forkful he had been about to eat back onto the platter, "I remember; last time she stayed at my apartment she didn't get up until past three, not even for food!"
Something splintered in her eyes, and she let her plate fall into the sink with a resounding crash. "I better go check on her, anyway..." She made a hasty departure for the stairs, her bare feet gliding over the floor without a sound, not that she would have made any in shoes either.
He consulted his eggs on what he'd said wrong, but they didn't have an answer so he set them dejectedly on the table.
A desperate sound came from upstairs, not quite a scream, not quite a sob, but something close. He tore out the doorway, through the foyer, and up the staircase, immediately discovering that he wasn't as graceful as Sydney, his stocking feet sliding helplessly across the floor. He arrested his stride in front of his daughter's room, dragging air through his lungs in ragged gasps, wondering if he'd been too hasty since all seemed quiet.
Then he looked inside. The curtains were torn down, all the drawers hauled out of her dresser and strewn across the carpet, the mattress flipped off the bed, and the covers kicked in a tumbled mess in one corner, clothes hanging from every feasible perch.
The noise. The noise he'd heard last night must have been them, and he blamed himself for not going straight to Sydney, for leaving his daughter unprotected. He could have prevented this. If only he'd known...It was all his fault.
And there was Sydney, bowed in the midst of the chaos, her hands clawing at her face as she tried to stop the floodgates that had opened, her body wracked with silent screams. "My baby," she repeated over and over to herself. "They got my baby...my baby..." He just couldn't begin to take it all in, comprehend the tangle in his mind; his Sydney, his strength, his courage, reduced to this weeping heap. And he had an urgent need to fix it, put her in order before he could let it all sink in, let himself break down.
He crossed the room in two strides, picked her up as gently as he could, and set her on the bed frame, kneeling in front of her so his chin was level with her knees. "Syd, look at me...look at me..." She peeled her hands away from her eyes. "That's it, now we've got to be rational about this. Sydney, we're not going to get anything done to help her here crying. We've got to make a plan...We don't even know what the ransom is, what the reason behind this is for godssakes!" He found his own calm spinning away and paused a second to re-collect it. "You're so good at things like this Sydney, the very best, so you tell me...what's step one?"
"Wait." Her voice was a shaking croak as she gazed down at him, her eyes glittering with the evidence of her devastation. "We wait. They'll be watching the house, they'll know that we've found..." Her newly gained composure cracked, and she shook her head briefly, spraying tears. "That we've found the room...They'll be calling soon."
The phone rang in a mocking counter-tone to the eerie cadence of her voice, and she shot him a meaningful look. He rushed to the guest room to grab up the cordless there, bringing it back so they could both pick up the phone on the count of three.
"Hello." He held his breath as Sydney answered their daughter's phone, making no sound so they wouldn't know there was more than one person listening. He was amazed by how much her condition had changed during their brief talk; she was almost steady, wiping her face dry with the hand that didn't cradle the receiver. Maybe Sydney would always amaze him.
"Sydney." The distorted voice on the other end answered. "By now, you've discovered Laramie's absence. Truly sorry about that, but it seemed the only way to get you to agree to see me..." When Sydney didn't respond, the blackmailer must have been surprised, a little disappointment stealing into his tone. He must have had some speech prepared because he hesitated like he was fumbling for his place. "If I have my story right, you once left your heart in Taipei, and that's where you'll find it again."
"How much money do you want?"
"Money?" The garbled laughter nearly made him throw down the phone, nearly made him wretch. "Do you think so little of me, Sydney? I couldn't possible take your money! All I want is a favor, flitch a insignificant manuscript for me, and you and Laramie go home safely."
"Tell me more about it."
"Ah, ah, ah! That wouldn't be fair, would it? We have to play this game by my rules. Which means, you'll get the information you need, and no more, when you arrive in Taipei...I already have a room booked for you at the airport hotel. I'll be seeing you soon!" And the line went dead.
Sydney directly hung up, too, and began dialing franticly at the numbers while he set down his own phone with a trembling hand. He considered her, unsure of whom she could be calling. "Hello? I need to talk to Jack Bristow." Oh. "No, this can't wait. Just tell him that it's Sydney. Yes, ma'am." There was a prolonged pause as she obviously waited for her father. "Dad? No, no it's not all right. Laramie's been kidnapped." He listened dumbly as she related the details to Jack, the despair that he had freed Sydney from descending in turn over him, feeling like this should be happening to someone else. "You can't? Why? I don't understand, but...Yes. No." Another pause as Jack elaborated on some point. "Sure, but...You want to what? Really? Okay..." She thrust the phone in his direction. "He wants to talk to you."
He accepted the procured object, while a voice inside shouted, "Me?"
"Yes, sir?" He was uncertain of what to call the man so he settled on a safe option; he had called him Mr. Bristow when they'd been forced to work together, he called him Jack when he had been his father-in-law, but now he was nothing.
"I want you to understand something." Jack's voice was just as strong, just as commanding and imposing, as it had been in his middle years; Jack wasn't the type to fade away slowly with age. Michael still half-expected him to go out in a hale of gunfire. "We cannot--cannot--send in anyone to help you. Since they're monitoring you, a team would be too apparent, and they seem to be anticipating the manuscript to come from Sydney's hands...So it's up to just the two of you, and, Mr. Vaughn, I want my daughter and granddaughter back safe."
"Not possibly more than I do, sir."
"I'm inclined to argue with you, but I will believe you this time. Good luck." The line went dead in his hand again, and he walked over to replace dully.
Sydney's hand on his arm stopped him when he turned to make his way back across the room. She tilted her head back to look up at him from her position still on the bed frame, her brown eyes sparkling with repressed emotion. She looked like he had once known her, young and burdened; but she wasn't so young anymore, and she was finally bending under the weight of those burdens. "Thank you. Thank you, for bringing me back to my self." He thought that was all and started to stagger away again, but her grip tightened to hold him in place. "We were friends once, weren't we, Vaughn?"
His last name tumbled off her tongue so naturally it didn't register for a moment that she hadn't used it in years, and when it did, her couldn't help but answer, couldn't have been cynical or angry, even if the situation had called for it. "Of course, of course we were," he hurried to reassure her.
It took her longer to form the next words, but finally the wall broke down, and she let them go. "Do you--do you think we could be friends again? Because I'm really going to need one now."
Chapter Four---Friends
He came down late that morning, dragging his sweatpants out from his suitcase, and completing a briefer version of his morning ritual, but when he got to the kitchen, only Sydney was there. She stood with her back to him for a long time before she turned around, her shoulders heaving up in a long breath, but it was still obvious by the red rings around her eyes that she had been crying. It pained him to avert his eyes, ignore her pain, but it was no longer his place to ask after the reason for her tears, much less give comfort.
"Eggs?" she offered cheerily, shoving a plate at him. He caught it in one hand while the other accepted a fork. He brought a mouthful up, chewing it thoughtfully as he thought up something to say.
"Laramie isn't up yet?"
Sydney frowned at her own breakfast before dropping it untouched into the trash. "She hardly ever wakes up until after noon on the weekends."
He smiled at bit to himself, dropping the forkful he had been about to eat back onto the platter, "I remember; last time she stayed at my apartment she didn't get up until past three, not even for food!"
Something splintered in her eyes, and she let her plate fall into the sink with a resounding crash. "I better go check on her, anyway..." She made a hasty departure for the stairs, her bare feet gliding over the floor without a sound, not that she would have made any in shoes either.
He consulted his eggs on what he'd said wrong, but they didn't have an answer so he set them dejectedly on the table.
A desperate sound came from upstairs, not quite a scream, not quite a sob, but something close. He tore out the doorway, through the foyer, and up the staircase, immediately discovering that he wasn't as graceful as Sydney, his stocking feet sliding helplessly across the floor. He arrested his stride in front of his daughter's room, dragging air through his lungs in ragged gasps, wondering if he'd been too hasty since all seemed quiet.
Then he looked inside. The curtains were torn down, all the drawers hauled out of her dresser and strewn across the carpet, the mattress flipped off the bed, and the covers kicked in a tumbled mess in one corner, clothes hanging from every feasible perch.
The noise. The noise he'd heard last night must have been them, and he blamed himself for not going straight to Sydney, for leaving his daughter unprotected. He could have prevented this. If only he'd known...It was all his fault.
And there was Sydney, bowed in the midst of the chaos, her hands clawing at her face as she tried to stop the floodgates that had opened, her body wracked with silent screams. "My baby," she repeated over and over to herself. "They got my baby...my baby..." He just couldn't begin to take it all in, comprehend the tangle in his mind; his Sydney, his strength, his courage, reduced to this weeping heap. And he had an urgent need to fix it, put her in order before he could let it all sink in, let himself break down.
He crossed the room in two strides, picked her up as gently as he could, and set her on the bed frame, kneeling in front of her so his chin was level with her knees. "Syd, look at me...look at me..." She peeled her hands away from her eyes. "That's it, now we've got to be rational about this. Sydney, we're not going to get anything done to help her here crying. We've got to make a plan...We don't even know what the ransom is, what the reason behind this is for godssakes!" He found his own calm spinning away and paused a second to re-collect it. "You're so good at things like this Sydney, the very best, so you tell me...what's step one?"
"Wait." Her voice was a shaking croak as she gazed down at him, her eyes glittering with the evidence of her devastation. "We wait. They'll be watching the house, they'll know that we've found..." Her newly gained composure cracked, and she shook her head briefly, spraying tears. "That we've found the room...They'll be calling soon."
The phone rang in a mocking counter-tone to the eerie cadence of her voice, and she shot him a meaningful look. He rushed to the guest room to grab up the cordless there, bringing it back so they could both pick up the phone on the count of three.
"Hello." He held his breath as Sydney answered their daughter's phone, making no sound so they wouldn't know there was more than one person listening. He was amazed by how much her condition had changed during their brief talk; she was almost steady, wiping her face dry with the hand that didn't cradle the receiver. Maybe Sydney would always amaze him.
"Sydney." The distorted voice on the other end answered. "By now, you've discovered Laramie's absence. Truly sorry about that, but it seemed the only way to get you to agree to see me..." When Sydney didn't respond, the blackmailer must have been surprised, a little disappointment stealing into his tone. He must have had some speech prepared because he hesitated like he was fumbling for his place. "If I have my story right, you once left your heart in Taipei, and that's where you'll find it again."
"How much money do you want?"
"Money?" The garbled laughter nearly made him throw down the phone, nearly made him wretch. "Do you think so little of me, Sydney? I couldn't possible take your money! All I want is a favor, flitch a insignificant manuscript for me, and you and Laramie go home safely."
"Tell me more about it."
"Ah, ah, ah! That wouldn't be fair, would it? We have to play this game by my rules. Which means, you'll get the information you need, and no more, when you arrive in Taipei...I already have a room booked for you at the airport hotel. I'll be seeing you soon!" And the line went dead.
Sydney directly hung up, too, and began dialing franticly at the numbers while he set down his own phone with a trembling hand. He considered her, unsure of whom she could be calling. "Hello? I need to talk to Jack Bristow." Oh. "No, this can't wait. Just tell him that it's Sydney. Yes, ma'am." There was a prolonged pause as she obviously waited for her father. "Dad? No, no it's not all right. Laramie's been kidnapped." He listened dumbly as she related the details to Jack, the despair that he had freed Sydney from descending in turn over him, feeling like this should be happening to someone else. "You can't? Why? I don't understand, but...Yes. No." Another pause as Jack elaborated on some point. "Sure, but...You want to what? Really? Okay..." She thrust the phone in his direction. "He wants to talk to you."
He accepted the procured object, while a voice inside shouted, "Me?"
"Yes, sir?" He was uncertain of what to call the man so he settled on a safe option; he had called him Mr. Bristow when they'd been forced to work together, he called him Jack when he had been his father-in-law, but now he was nothing.
"I want you to understand something." Jack's voice was just as strong, just as commanding and imposing, as it had been in his middle years; Jack wasn't the type to fade away slowly with age. Michael still half-expected him to go out in a hale of gunfire. "We cannot--cannot--send in anyone to help you. Since they're monitoring you, a team would be too apparent, and they seem to be anticipating the manuscript to come from Sydney's hands...So it's up to just the two of you, and, Mr. Vaughn, I want my daughter and granddaughter back safe."
"Not possibly more than I do, sir."
"I'm inclined to argue with you, but I will believe you this time. Good luck." The line went dead in his hand again, and he walked over to replace dully.
Sydney's hand on his arm stopped him when he turned to make his way back across the room. She tilted her head back to look up at him from her position still on the bed frame, her brown eyes sparkling with repressed emotion. She looked like he had once known her, young and burdened; but she wasn't so young anymore, and she was finally bending under the weight of those burdens. "Thank you. Thank you, for bringing me back to my self." He thought that was all and started to stagger away again, but her grip tightened to hold him in place. "We were friends once, weren't we, Vaughn?"
His last name tumbled off her tongue so naturally it didn't register for a moment that she hadn't used it in years, and when it did, her couldn't help but answer, couldn't have been cynical or angry, even if the situation had called for it. "Of course, of course we were," he hurried to reassure her.
It took her longer to form the next words, but finally the wall broke down, and she let them go. "Do you--do you think we could be friends again? Because I'm really going to need one now."