Disclaimer: I wish they were mine, but they're not. Don't sue me!

Chapter One

The hospital room was as sterile as every other hospital room Sydney had ever been in. The walls were white, the sheets were white...everything else was gun metal gray. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there, but her legs were beginning to protest her lack of movement. Pushing herself off the uncomfortable armchair, she made her way to the window where the sun was peeking over the horizon. Ribbons of orange and red unfurled in the sky and for a moment, Sydney let herself get lost in the beauty of it, her mind a perfect blank.

Until she was brought crashing down to reality by the sound of the heart monitor's incessant beeping.

She put a hand to her mouth to stop her lips from trembling as she turned around. Vaughn lay lifeless on the bed, various wires and tubes springing from his body. A white bandage was taped to his forehead and Sydney knew there was a matching bandage on his shoulder where a bullet had ripped through his flesh and nearly made him bleed to death.

At least, she thought, at least he's alive on that hospital bed instead of six feet under.

It had only been three days before that Sydney was released by her mother. Her cover had not been blown and she had given nothing away. Her mother wasn't as evil and heartless as Sydney thought---her interrogation wasn't as harrowing as Will's had been. She still had all her teeth. After three days of obstinate silence, she had been let go into her father's custody. The frozen silence between her parents was physically painful for Sydney, but the look on her father's face broke her heart. In his stony facade, she could see how hurt he had been at her mother's betrayal, how he had really loved her only to have that thrown back in his face, and to find that his personal life and professional life had blurred to the point where he couldn't differentiate anymore.

In that moment, Sydney hated her mother for what she had done to her father. Jack Bristow had been a hard man to live with and even now did not have the kind of relationship with his daughter that most father's had, but Sydney understood now why he had pushed her away. Neither of them said a word on the way back to SD-6 headquarters, but the bone-crushing hug that Jack gave her spoke volumes. Gruffly, he told her Will was in CIA custody and was fine. Sydney wanted to ask about Vaughn but couldn't until after she briefed Sloane.

When she went home that night, she found her father waiting and he told her what had happened to Vaughn. He nearly drowned, but found an exit through the ventilation shaft only to be shot at in the dark alley outside the club. Ironically enough, he was shot by some common punk that Jack had disposed of quickly enough. With two bleeding men in the car, he drove to a CIA checkpoint and dropped them off. Sydney didn't have to ask him what he did afterwards. With a sob, she buried her face in her father's chest and felt his arms go around her. As she cried, he told her how worried he had been and how proud he was of her. She didn't know how long they had stood like that, but when he tears dried, he took her to Vaughn. No questions asked. He seemed to know that she needed to see her handler. They didn't want to talk about why. They would cross that bridge when they got to it.

Sighing, Sydney went back to her seat at Vaughn's bedside. She had been nearly hysterical when she saw him like this, but after two days of being at his bedside, she was used to it. Without thinking, she took her hand in his, her thumb caressing the back of it. Where in the past they had tried not to touch each other unless absolutely necessary, in Sydney's case because she didn't want to give in to temptation, she now knew the exact dimensions of Vaughn's hand due to the hours she spent holding one then the other. She knew how they felt in hers, how warm, and masculine they were. He was a desk jockey, so she knew his calluses weren't due to the same activities she took part in. However, as she stared at his palms in the growing light, she guessed correctly that he got them from playing hockey.

A watery smile curved Sydney's lips as she remembered asking him to a hockey game in one desperate, frantic moment, remembered the faintly pleased look on his face and how it took a visible effort for control for him to say that it wasn't possible.

Her hand tightened on his.

"Wake up, Vaughn," she whispered. "We need to go see a hockey game together. You owe me one."

Resting her arms on the edge of his bed, she pillowed her head and closed her eyes. Soon, she was asleep.

Above her head, a pair of green eyes opened, then looked quizzically down at her.