Chapter Three - Until We Die
It had been six hours. At least. Maybe more. Sydney's thoughts began to run together, as she turned down a dark street in a French village, about two hundred miles away from Beaune, where she had been twenty four hours ago.

The fear and anger was still very much in her body as she pulled into a small parkinglot of a cafe. Looking around, she tried to figure out where exactly she had driven herself to. She quickly shut off the motor, and jumped out of the car.

"Damnit, Sydney. It's Winter in France, and all you managed to dress yourself in was a tee shirt and sweatpants." she muttered to herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. Walking upto the front door, she yanked it open, and stepped inside.

It was a quaint little French restaurant, much like something Vaughn had taken her to back in Los Angeles. Eyeing the clock, she saw it was nearing eight p.m. Great, she had been driving for a good ten hours straight, and she still wasn't sure where she was, and where Sloane's spies were.

Sliding onto a stool at the counters, she waited for a waitress to come over to her.

"A l'air de bien nous avons reçu une nouvelle face. Que peux-je vous recevoir, le chéri?" (Well, looks like we've got a new face. What can I get you, darling?) the forty-something year old waitress asked. Sydney smiled slightly, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. She noticed the woman looking at her oddly, eyeing her silently. Her tone changed, as she rested one elbow on the counter, and muttered, "Seigneur, je ne peux pas contrôler tous ces touristes Américains. Pas un mot de Français, ils peuvent parler." (Lord, I can't handle all these American tourists. Not one word of French, they can speak.)

Sydney smirked slightly, catching the waitresses eye.

"Je ne peux pas m'excuser des autres "touristes", mais j'aimerais qu'un café chaud pour soit allé, avec la crème sur le côté. Vous prenez des chèques de touristes, la droite?" (I can't apologize for the other "tourists", but I'd like a hot coffee to go, with cream on the side. You take tourists checks, right?)

"Bien, nous avons un spunky celui pour une fois. Le Elle de Mon nom Mineault. Qu'ai-t-je le plaisir d'appel vous? " (Well, we have a spunky one for once. My name's Elle Mineault. What do I have the pleasure of calling you?)

Sydney accepted the cup of coffee she gave her, with cream in it, and smiled.

"Jenny Marcus."

---

After forcing herself to have a semi-normal conversation with Elle as she drunk her coffee, she excused herself to the bathroom. Sydney locked the door behind her, and immediately saw what she needed. There was a small window above the toilet, just big enough for her to slide through. Shutting the toilet lid down, she climbed ontop, slid the window open, and crawled out.

Making sure there were no windows that could have easy access to viewing her around the back, she crossed what she guessed was the employees parkinglot, and came across a shiny new black car. Smiling inwardly, she felt the cold leave her bones as she jogged around to the front, easily picked the window and disarmed the alarm in record time, took the break off, and pushed the car out of the parking lot.

After she was a safe ways out of the parkinglot, she climbed in and started the motor. She learned the hardway that when you need to get a fast escape - in a car that isn't yours - that you never start up the engine close to it's owner. They always know. Quickly exiting the "scene of the crime", she started to drive down the now dark roads.

The dark roads and skies left her to wonder about what Vaughn was doing right now. Sighing, she watched the road, and tried not to let her thoughts wonder too much. It was true, she had pretty much no money, no idea where she was going, where Sloane was, what he wanted with her, or why he even contacted her - almost five years after The Alliance and SD-6 had been taken down.

About three hours later, and two more cities - Biot, and Ranton - Sydney had been keeping track - she checked into a small motel for the night, with the remaining twenty she had left. After crawling into bed, she let herself cry for the first time since she left. What was she to do now?

Okay, that was kind of a short chapter, but I have a good idea of where I want this story to go, but I need feedback 'cause it inspired me :D Thanks to everyone who has been submitting!