Chapter Eighteen

Jack saw the back of Dixon's head at a distance. He cut a straight path through the crowd thronging outside the smoking carcass of the Credit Dauphine building towards him. Dixon turned before Jack reached him, meeting the other man's eyes.

"Do you know what happened here?" Jack asked.

"I was about to ask you the same question," Dixon said carefully. "Though I have a feeling you know much more than I do. Sydney's disappearance and this explosion happening days after is not a coincidence. There are no coincidences in our business, Jack."

"Come with me."

Jack led him to his car and they drove off, heading to the warehouse where Vaughn and Sydney used to meet. Dixon didn't ask any questions when they got out, but his right hand drifted close to his weapon and he made sure to make Jack go ahead of him. Weiss was waiting for them in the inner room and he couldn't hide his surprise when he spotted Dixon hovering behind Jack. Surprise turned to anger quickly as the ramifications of Jack's actions hit him.

"What the hell do you think you're doing now?" he demanded.

"We need him if we're going to save Sydney," Jack said. "I'm under suspicion already, but he's not. He can move freely and ask the right questions; we can't."

They both heard the snick of Dixon's gun leaving its holder, but Jack was faster-he had his gun pointed at Dixon's face before the other man's gun was up.

"Don't do anything foolish, Marcus," Jack said coolly.

"I knew I couldn't trust her," Dixon returned bitterly. "But I let my emotions guide my choices instead of common sense and I sure as hell didn't expect you to be caught on the wrong side of this, Jack. I thought you were smarter than that."

"Put the gun down, Mr. Dixon," Weiss said.

"And who is this guy?"

Weiss reached for his ID, holding one hand out to reassure Dixon. "My name is Eric Weiss and I'm a CIA officer. I believe you met a good friend of mine: Michael Vaughn."

Confusion flickered across Dixon's face and his gun dropped. "CIA? Why are you mixed up in this?"

"Put the gun down and I'll explain," Weiss said. "That goes for you, too, Jack."

Jack lowered his weapon and Dixon holstered his. Weiss gestured to one of the crates lying around.

"Take a seat. This might take some time," he said.

Two hours later, Dixon was staring in disbelief at Jack and Weiss. He was horrified at learning that he'd been working for the wrong side for all these years and couldn't believe that all this was happening. Guilt settled in the pit of his stomach as he wondered what he would do now. He couldn't fix all the damage he'd caused in the name of patriotism, but he could make up for it. That was what Jack and Weiss were asking of him now. He silently apologized to his young partner for doubting her, and wanted nothing more than to see her again so he could say that. He owed her his life and she'd nearly blown her cover doing that. Fighting back a wave of despair at learning what he really was, Dixon looked up and met Jack's eyes with a hard stare.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

* * *

After a night of restless tossing and turning, Sydney rolled out of bed, slipped her feet into the slippers on the floor, and shrugged on the robe she found hanging behind the door. She opened the door and found Vaughn passed out on the couch, one arm thrown over his eyes. She wasn't surprised to find the brandy snifter one glass away from empty. His own glass was on the ground, the hand he had hanging off the couch grazing it. On silent feet, Sydney picked up the glass and snifter, replacing them on the bar. Vaughn groaned then and he opened his eyes when she turned around.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," he returned, sounding a step away from death. "I feel like I drowned in a vat of alcohol. Drowned.maybe not the best word to use."

"Do you want some coffee?"

"Sure."

He started to sit up and had to close his eyes when the room started to spin. He had one of the worst hangovers he'd ever had and he could barely move. His limbs felt like they were weighed down with lead weights, and the room couldn't seem to stop spinning. He managed to sit up, but had to rest his head back as he took deep breaths to avoid puking his guts out.

Sydney placed a trash can next to him in case he did just that and went to the small kitchenette to turn the coffeemaker on. Irina's hideaway had all the comforts of home, save windows.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked.

"No. I should have had a drink."

"I shouldn't have had a drink."

"You look horrible."

"Believe me, I look the way I feel."

"Vaughn.I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault my father was a traitor, Syd. Besides, you have your own parental problems to deal with. Why are our families so fucked up?"

Not used to hearing him curse, Sydney had to turn her attention to retrieving coffee mugs to find the right words to answer him with.

"We're not fucked up," she said.

"Guess again. An agent and her handler, her amnesiac handler rather, falling in love and running to save their lives. It couldn't get more fucked up than that."

Sydney poured coffee into two cups and brought them to him. She sat next to him, but didn't touch him. He sipped at the coffee, grimacing at the taste. He put the cup on the table.

"Another Sydney factoid: she can't make coffee," he muttered as he leaned his head back again.

Sydney cracked a smile. "Thanks a lot."

He turned his head to look at her, his green eyes earnest. "I don't blame you, Syd. I never have and I never will. The sins of our parents are not passed on to us." He took her hand in his. "I'll love you no matter what."

His words were a blessing and she put her cup down in order to put her arms around him. He put an arm around her, holding her close.

"Thank you for that," she said. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you with me.that you understand and that you don't hate me for putting you through this."

"You're just another pawn to them, like I am. The last thing I want is for you to go through this alone. You've been alone for too long, and I want to be here for you the way I always wanted to be."

Sydney smiled and was about to respond, when a wave of nausea hit her. She reached the trash can before she could make a mess. Vaughn held her hair and rubbed her back, muttering things under his breath that she couldn't hear over her retching. When it was over, she collapsed onto the soft cushions of the couch.

"What a pair we are," Vaughn said. "I'd get you water, but I don't think I can get up."

"I'll get it," she said, pushing herself off.

"What was that about? Are you alright?"

"I don't know. It's probably just nerves."

"Has that happened to you before?"

"No."

"When's your mother coming back? We need to see a doctor."

"We can't let anyone else know we're here."

"What if you caught a bug? You need to be looked at."

She came back with two glasses of water, her own already half empty. She handed him his glass. "Stop fussing and drink your water."

He kept his eyes on her as he drank. "If something's wrong, we need to know now instead of later. God only knows what's going on back in LA."

"Alright, alright." She smoothed the three lines on his forehead that always appeared when he was worried-and she'd seen those lines more often than she'd like. "I'll talk to Irina about a doctor."

"Is there anything to do around here?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

"I think I saw a deck of cards in my bedside table."

"How about some strip poker?"

The suggestion was so ridiculous that Sydney laughed. He was hungover and she had just thrown up. They weren't exactly at the peak of their sexiness.

"Just go brush your teeth," he said as if reading her mind.

She laughed harder as she stood, hitting him lightly on the shoulder as she passed. But she did brush her teeth and she went back to him, the deck of cards in her hand.

"That's what I love about you," she said. "You can always make me feel better."

"I like to see you smile."

He managed to stand and he put an arm around her, leading her back to the room.

"No fancy stuff," he said, kissing her temple. "I just think we both need a good rest. You have shadows under your eyes and me...well falling unconscious from having too much to drink is not my idea of a good rest."

They laid back down on the bed, Sydney curled up at Vaughn's side. He had an arm around her shoulders and she threw an arm across his stomach, holding him tightly.

"Sleep," he murmured.

And in the safety of his arms, Sydney fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.