Chapter Five
I was now Andrea Walsh, in Italy, meeting Sark. He had called and gotten my hotel and hotel room number. Now I had to switch rooms, and fast. Sark knew exactly where I was.
He had told me to dress normally. Normally how? What I wear to work? What I wear when I'm not working? Which is hardly ever.
I finally opted to put on jeans and a white tank top, finally finished the look with a jean jacket. I brushed out my hair and got ready to flip on the TV, just as I heard a knock on the door. I sighed and stood up to unlock it and open it. Yep, it was Sark.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey. Come on. Dinner's waiting."
He drove us to a small café and I stood outside, looking at how pretty it was. I looked down at my hand and noticed that I was still wearing the ring that Vaughn had given me. I quickly slipped it off my finger and into my purse.
"Sydney?" Sark came back outside. "Are you coming in?"
"Yeah," I followed him inside. It was even more beautiful inside. The walls were the color of red wine, and Sark's dark form stood against one of them.
"This is fantastic," I said as we sat down. The restaurant was completely empty. "What did you do, rent the whole place out?"
"No, actually, I own it."
No way, Sark owns a restaurant? Somehow, I just can't picture Sark in a chef's hat. It's impossible.
"Really?"
"You don't think I'm an assassin all the time, do you?"
"No, but cooking?"
"I lived on my own a lot, and I learned how to fend for myself. Through that, I leaned simple meals and then graduated to harder ones. Finally, when I was twenty, I started a restaurant. That's how the.I mean, that's how I got started in the espionage, or "evil psychotic assassin" business."
Wow. Sark had just disclosed something about his personal life. Interesting.
"Sydney?" he jolted me out of my thoughts. "Wine?"
"Yeah, wine's okay."
"Red or white?"
"You pick." I was feeling generous. I had to find out what he was up to.
"Fine. Red."
The waiter hurried away. He was probably trying to get out of here as fast as he could before Sark got it into his head to kill him.
"You are impossible to understand, Miss Bristow," he said, trying to read my expression as my eyes followed the waiter away.
"Why?" Okay, now he's getting suspicious.
"One minute, you're all happy and the next you want to kill someone. I'm trying to understand you."
Uh.hello? Have you ever heard of a little thing called female hormones? Guess not. I smiled, but kept my thoughts to myself. "Sark, I've thought about your offer."
His tone turned from soft and understanding to firm and businesslike. "And?"
"What would I be doing, working for you?"
"Like I said, it would be a partnership. In this case, I would give you the location of Arvin Sloane in return for.the highest possible security clearance from the CIA."
Yeah. Uh. . .Sark? Only like, two people have that clearance in the entire country. I highly doubt that you could get the highest," I said truthfully, "even if it was to extract information in return for Sloane. Only two people, I think, have that clearance in the entire US."
"If I led the CIA to Sloane, could I get it?" He must really be desperate for something.
"I could probably get some sort of security clearance. There's no guarantee that it would be the highest," I said. "I'll work with you."
"All right. Then, Miss Bristow, here's what you're going to have to do. You'll have to fake your death. Your on your own from the CIA, am I right?"
I contemplated telling him. "There's a team in the place that you and my mother were rumored to be last, but yes, I am on my own."
"Good. We will fake your death, here in Italy. The CIA will believe that I killed you, as will Sloane. I will then "turn you in" to Sloane and we will go from there."
Was it worth this much just to get Sloane, Sark, my mother and the Rambaldi documents? It had better be. "What if, when you turn me in, Sloane kills me?"
"He won't, because you will be dead to the CIA, and you will be handing over your Rambaldi paper. To him, it's gaining another agent working under him."
I nodded. He handed me a piece of paper. "Meet me here tomorrow. We will fake your death and ensure that it gets back to Sloane and the CIA." He stood and we left the restaurant.
"This had better work," I said as he dropped me off at the hotel.
"Read it," he said, motioning to the folded paper in my hand. "Do what it says," he added before driving off.
When I got back to my room, I read the note.
"Sydney, meet me at the restaurant. We'll move in from there."
I tore it up and flushed it down the toilet. I was having serious doubts about going through with this. I would have to leave Vaughn, my dad, Will, Francie. . .everyone. Vaughn. . . I picked up the phone and dialed the international operator. I had to hear his voice, just one last time. I was having doubts that I would even make it out of this alive.
"Vaughn," he answered.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey Syd. Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm joining Sark, just tell Kendall for me. I just wanted to let you know that I'm meeting Sloane in a couple of days. Vaughn, I want you to know that I love you."
"Syd, you will be coming back."
"I hope."
"Don't think like that. I have to go though. Kendall needs me. I love you. You'll be fine. Stay strong."
"I will," I fought back tears. "I love you."
"I love you too."
"Tell my dad that I love him."
"I will. Bye."
"Bye."
God, how was I going to get through this without killing myself, and Vaughn?
***
I met Sark early the next morning at the restaurant. He had already staged my death, I realized as he clicked on the TV.
"Early this morning, an American woman was found dead in her car. Authorities identified the woman as Sydney Bristow. Further investigations are now taking place. If you have any information on the assassination of Ms. Bristow, please call this number."
"How'd you do it?" I asked.
"I found someone who looked like you, killed her, obviously, "found" her and paid the hospital to use your name and tell your family and the CIA."
"They'll know, though."
"The body is so mangled that no one could tell and no DNA test could prove that the body isn't yours. I already contacted Sloane. He's pleased, to say the least."
"How long do we have to wait?"
"Three days."
"I can't wait three days!"
"Consider it a vacation."
Great. I'm in vacation. Oh joy, oh yeah, and I'm dead. This is just great. Is Sloane really worth all this? I don't think so.
***
CIA Headquarters
"Find Agent Vaughn," commanded Kendall, staring in shock at the TV.
"Yeah?" asked Vaughn, entering the room.
"You have to see this," he said, motioning to the TV.
"American Sydney Bristow was shot and killed this morning in Italy," said the reporter while a picture of Sydney appeared on the screen. "Investigations are now in progress."
Vaughn stood speechless as the reporter went on and on, and stared at the TV in awe.
Jack hurried into the room. He had just seen the news.
"We sent her in and she was killed! I told you not to send her in!"
"Jack, this couldn't be helped."
"You could have not sent her in. You did, even though I specifically said not to!"
"Jack, it was her choice. She knew that this might happen."
She probably knew better than any of us, thought Vaughn, thinking of their conversation last night. He stared silently at the TV. He looked like he was in some sort of trance.
"Meeting in an hour," Kendall said quietly, and left.
***
Vaughn's POV
Three Days Later
I stood outside the funeral home, not wanting to go inside. This would be the last time I saw her, period. Not the last time alive, not the last time upset, not the last time happy. . .the last time.
"Hey man," Weiss came up behind me. "Come on. It's going to start." I followed him silently. I couldn't say anything. Everything was decorated so beautifully; just the way Syd would have wanted it. Somehow though, I felt like I was being plunged back into an awful dream- my father's death.
We approached the casket, and I saw Sydney, all dressed up, laid out like she was a queen.
Jack stood next to her casket, silent, sullen, lost in his own thoughts. From what. . .Sydney. . .God, I'm breaking down here. I can't even say her name in my head without cracking. Sydney had said that her dad had sunken into a deep depression after her mother's "death." I wondered how he'd get through her death.
"Hey," he said softly.
"Hi."
"How are you doing?"
"As expected. I guess I know how she felt now when Danny died."
"Yeah."
I looked at her hand, the hand where her ring was supposed to be. It wasn't there. If she was in her car, on her way to the airport. . .she would have been wearing it.
"The ring," I said softly. "She's not wearing it."
"It might have been stolen," said Jack.
"She would have been wearing it. It's not her. Sydney's death was faked."
"Mike," Weiss started. "I know you're upset about Syd's death, we all are, but isn't this just a little. . .extreme?"
"I know she's alive. She is."
"Mike, we'd better sit down. It's getting ready to start."
I sat down and let my mind wander. Syd was alive, I knew it. She had to be.
***
Sydney's POV
By the third day, I was so sick of being in the hotel room. I just wanted to go outside, see the sun, for a change. But then again, as Sark had said, it's not normal for dead people to be roaming the streets.
The phone next to the bed rang. I walked away from the window and picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Come down to my room. There's someone that I want you to meet."
"Sloane?"
"No." He hung up.
I took the elevator to the third floor- Sark's floor. I quietly knocked on the door, not exactly sure what I'd find.
Sark opened it and I followed him inside. I saw a man sitting on the couch.
"Mr. Andrews, this is Sydney Bristow, my partner."
"Nice to meet you," I said, trying to hide my suspicions and not ask questions.
"Is this the agent that faked her death? The one that you told me about?" he asked in a heavy Scottish accent.
"Yes," said Sark.
"You must be a very good agent to fake your death and leave your family and friends behind.
My thoughts flew to Vaughn. It had only been three days, but it felt like an eternity to me. God, how I missed him.
"Since Agent Bristow and I are partners, we need you to hunt down Arvin Sloane. Sloane lately has been. . .a little too close for comfort. We want you to kill him," said Sark.
"You want me to find a man who is in hiding and assassinate him? Mr. Sark, if I am correct, you could easily assassinate him yourself. You're very close to him, if I'm not mistaken."
"I don't want the blood on my hands," he said simply. He opened the suitcase and displayed the massive amount of money. "Fifty grand. Yours, if you do this."
The man, Mr. Andrews, looked at me and I nodded.
"All right," he finally said. "I'll do it."
"Track him. You get paid only when you bring me the body," said Sark. "Mr. Andrews nodded, and left.
"Sloane will be here in a minute. Go into the other room and shut the door. Come out only when you hear "I lied." That's your cue.
"All right," I said as I heard a knock on the door. I quietly closed th door as Sark opened the other.
"Mr. Sloane," he acknowledged him.
"Mr. Sark," I pictured Sloane stepping into the room.
"Please, sit down."
"What was so urgent that you had to drag me away from Emily?"
"Sir, I lied."
I slowly turned the knob and quietly opened the door.
"About what?"
"About me," I said.
He stared at me like I was back from the dead or something. Oh yeah, I was.
"She's not dead," he said.
"No, she's not," said Sark. "She's agreed to cooperate"
***
Vaughn's POV
"Agent Vaughn," another agent came to my desk.
"Yeah?" I continued typing my report. Anything to keep my mind off Sydney.
"Agent Kendall wants to see you."
I looked up, curious as to why Kendall wanted to see me. I just nodded and headed to where the agent had directed me to go; the debrief room.
"Agent Kendall?" I asked after I knocked on the door. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yeah," he said. Jack was there, along with a couple other agents, including Eric, Will and Marshall, who all looked sympathetically at me, like they knew what was coming and I didn't. "Have a seat."
I sat. "Yeah?" I asked. I hadn't the slightest idea as to why I was here.
"Agent Vaughn, when we did an autopsy, along with various other tests on Agent Bristow's body, we found some. . .problems," said Kendall.
"Kendall, it's the same day of the funeral. Agent Bristow only died three days ago. Can we talk about this later?"
"Agent Vaughn," said Jack wearily, "let Kendall finish."
"Anyway, a test that was run on Agent Bristow's body showed. . ."
"Showed what?" I asked.
Kendall couldn't finish, and so Weiss did. "Mike, Syd was pregnant."
I stared in shock from Kendall, to Jack, to Weiss, and finally to Marshall and the other agents.
"Agent Vaughn, do you admit to a relationship with Sydney Bristow?"
Everyone turned their heads to look at me. "Why is everyone looking at me?"
"Uh, Vaughn, they've had you figured out for a long time," Weiss said, making everything suddenly seem obvious as I turned red.
"Oh. Okay then."
I looked at Kendall. "I didn't do it," I held my hands up in defense, trying to lighten the mood.
"Do you deny your relationship with Agent Bristow?" he asked, bringing back the seriousness of the situation.
"No," I couldn't deny loving Sydney.
"Agent Vaughn, you are familiar with protocol?"
Here it comes. I'm about to be kicked out. We Vaughn men just don't do well in the CIA, do we, Dad? I mentally asked my father.
"Agent Kendall, I'd like to propose that we look outside protocol and abandon this. Sydney is gone, and she was the other half of this relationship. I think that her death will take its toll enough on Agent Vaughn. Don't only take this out on him," said Jack. Kendall looked at him and nodded.
"Kendall?" I asked. "I swear, I did not get Sydney pregnant, and because of that, I still stand behind my belief that she is alive. I still believe that her death was somehow faked."
"Noted," Kendall said dully. "Meeting adjourned."
Once again, my thoughts went to Sydney. She was alive, I just knew it.
***
Sydney's POV
"What do you mean, "she's cooperating?" asked Sloane.
"Exactly what I said," said Sark.
"As in, the CIA believes that I am dead," I said.
"But it doesn't make sense. Why would she abandon the CIA?" he asked suspiciously, as if I wasn't even there. But then I knew that he knew I was there. He pulled out his gun.
"We have a partnership. Miss Bristow works for me and in return, Mr. Tippin and Miss Calfo stay alive," said Sark.
Sloane looked like he had won the jackpot. "So she's working for us?"
"Yes. She's working for us."
I was now Andrea Walsh, in Italy, meeting Sark. He had called and gotten my hotel and hotel room number. Now I had to switch rooms, and fast. Sark knew exactly where I was.
He had told me to dress normally. Normally how? What I wear to work? What I wear when I'm not working? Which is hardly ever.
I finally opted to put on jeans and a white tank top, finally finished the look with a jean jacket. I brushed out my hair and got ready to flip on the TV, just as I heard a knock on the door. I sighed and stood up to unlock it and open it. Yep, it was Sark.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey. Come on. Dinner's waiting."
He drove us to a small café and I stood outside, looking at how pretty it was. I looked down at my hand and noticed that I was still wearing the ring that Vaughn had given me. I quickly slipped it off my finger and into my purse.
"Sydney?" Sark came back outside. "Are you coming in?"
"Yeah," I followed him inside. It was even more beautiful inside. The walls were the color of red wine, and Sark's dark form stood against one of them.
"This is fantastic," I said as we sat down. The restaurant was completely empty. "What did you do, rent the whole place out?"
"No, actually, I own it."
No way, Sark owns a restaurant? Somehow, I just can't picture Sark in a chef's hat. It's impossible.
"Really?"
"You don't think I'm an assassin all the time, do you?"
"No, but cooking?"
"I lived on my own a lot, and I learned how to fend for myself. Through that, I leaned simple meals and then graduated to harder ones. Finally, when I was twenty, I started a restaurant. That's how the.I mean, that's how I got started in the espionage, or "evil psychotic assassin" business."
Wow. Sark had just disclosed something about his personal life. Interesting.
"Sydney?" he jolted me out of my thoughts. "Wine?"
"Yeah, wine's okay."
"Red or white?"
"You pick." I was feeling generous. I had to find out what he was up to.
"Fine. Red."
The waiter hurried away. He was probably trying to get out of here as fast as he could before Sark got it into his head to kill him.
"You are impossible to understand, Miss Bristow," he said, trying to read my expression as my eyes followed the waiter away.
"Why?" Okay, now he's getting suspicious.
"One minute, you're all happy and the next you want to kill someone. I'm trying to understand you."
Uh.hello? Have you ever heard of a little thing called female hormones? Guess not. I smiled, but kept my thoughts to myself. "Sark, I've thought about your offer."
His tone turned from soft and understanding to firm and businesslike. "And?"
"What would I be doing, working for you?"
"Like I said, it would be a partnership. In this case, I would give you the location of Arvin Sloane in return for.the highest possible security clearance from the CIA."
Yeah. Uh. . .Sark? Only like, two people have that clearance in the entire country. I highly doubt that you could get the highest," I said truthfully, "even if it was to extract information in return for Sloane. Only two people, I think, have that clearance in the entire US."
"If I led the CIA to Sloane, could I get it?" He must really be desperate for something.
"I could probably get some sort of security clearance. There's no guarantee that it would be the highest," I said. "I'll work with you."
"All right. Then, Miss Bristow, here's what you're going to have to do. You'll have to fake your death. Your on your own from the CIA, am I right?"
I contemplated telling him. "There's a team in the place that you and my mother were rumored to be last, but yes, I am on my own."
"Good. We will fake your death, here in Italy. The CIA will believe that I killed you, as will Sloane. I will then "turn you in" to Sloane and we will go from there."
Was it worth this much just to get Sloane, Sark, my mother and the Rambaldi documents? It had better be. "What if, when you turn me in, Sloane kills me?"
"He won't, because you will be dead to the CIA, and you will be handing over your Rambaldi paper. To him, it's gaining another agent working under him."
I nodded. He handed me a piece of paper. "Meet me here tomorrow. We will fake your death and ensure that it gets back to Sloane and the CIA." He stood and we left the restaurant.
"This had better work," I said as he dropped me off at the hotel.
"Read it," he said, motioning to the folded paper in my hand. "Do what it says," he added before driving off.
When I got back to my room, I read the note.
"Sydney, meet me at the restaurant. We'll move in from there."
I tore it up and flushed it down the toilet. I was having serious doubts about going through with this. I would have to leave Vaughn, my dad, Will, Francie. . .everyone. Vaughn. . . I picked up the phone and dialed the international operator. I had to hear his voice, just one last time. I was having doubts that I would even make it out of this alive.
"Vaughn," he answered.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey Syd. Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm joining Sark, just tell Kendall for me. I just wanted to let you know that I'm meeting Sloane in a couple of days. Vaughn, I want you to know that I love you."
"Syd, you will be coming back."
"I hope."
"Don't think like that. I have to go though. Kendall needs me. I love you. You'll be fine. Stay strong."
"I will," I fought back tears. "I love you."
"I love you too."
"Tell my dad that I love him."
"I will. Bye."
"Bye."
God, how was I going to get through this without killing myself, and Vaughn?
***
I met Sark early the next morning at the restaurant. He had already staged my death, I realized as he clicked on the TV.
"Early this morning, an American woman was found dead in her car. Authorities identified the woman as Sydney Bristow. Further investigations are now taking place. If you have any information on the assassination of Ms. Bristow, please call this number."
"How'd you do it?" I asked.
"I found someone who looked like you, killed her, obviously, "found" her and paid the hospital to use your name and tell your family and the CIA."
"They'll know, though."
"The body is so mangled that no one could tell and no DNA test could prove that the body isn't yours. I already contacted Sloane. He's pleased, to say the least."
"How long do we have to wait?"
"Three days."
"I can't wait three days!"
"Consider it a vacation."
Great. I'm in vacation. Oh joy, oh yeah, and I'm dead. This is just great. Is Sloane really worth all this? I don't think so.
***
CIA Headquarters
"Find Agent Vaughn," commanded Kendall, staring in shock at the TV.
"Yeah?" asked Vaughn, entering the room.
"You have to see this," he said, motioning to the TV.
"American Sydney Bristow was shot and killed this morning in Italy," said the reporter while a picture of Sydney appeared on the screen. "Investigations are now in progress."
Vaughn stood speechless as the reporter went on and on, and stared at the TV in awe.
Jack hurried into the room. He had just seen the news.
"We sent her in and she was killed! I told you not to send her in!"
"Jack, this couldn't be helped."
"You could have not sent her in. You did, even though I specifically said not to!"
"Jack, it was her choice. She knew that this might happen."
She probably knew better than any of us, thought Vaughn, thinking of their conversation last night. He stared silently at the TV. He looked like he was in some sort of trance.
"Meeting in an hour," Kendall said quietly, and left.
***
Vaughn's POV
Three Days Later
I stood outside the funeral home, not wanting to go inside. This would be the last time I saw her, period. Not the last time alive, not the last time upset, not the last time happy. . .the last time.
"Hey man," Weiss came up behind me. "Come on. It's going to start." I followed him silently. I couldn't say anything. Everything was decorated so beautifully; just the way Syd would have wanted it. Somehow though, I felt like I was being plunged back into an awful dream- my father's death.
We approached the casket, and I saw Sydney, all dressed up, laid out like she was a queen.
Jack stood next to her casket, silent, sullen, lost in his own thoughts. From what. . .Sydney. . .God, I'm breaking down here. I can't even say her name in my head without cracking. Sydney had said that her dad had sunken into a deep depression after her mother's "death." I wondered how he'd get through her death.
"Hey," he said softly.
"Hi."
"How are you doing?"
"As expected. I guess I know how she felt now when Danny died."
"Yeah."
I looked at her hand, the hand where her ring was supposed to be. It wasn't there. If she was in her car, on her way to the airport. . .she would have been wearing it.
"The ring," I said softly. "She's not wearing it."
"It might have been stolen," said Jack.
"She would have been wearing it. It's not her. Sydney's death was faked."
"Mike," Weiss started. "I know you're upset about Syd's death, we all are, but isn't this just a little. . .extreme?"
"I know she's alive. She is."
"Mike, we'd better sit down. It's getting ready to start."
I sat down and let my mind wander. Syd was alive, I knew it. She had to be.
***
Sydney's POV
By the third day, I was so sick of being in the hotel room. I just wanted to go outside, see the sun, for a change. But then again, as Sark had said, it's not normal for dead people to be roaming the streets.
The phone next to the bed rang. I walked away from the window and picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Come down to my room. There's someone that I want you to meet."
"Sloane?"
"No." He hung up.
I took the elevator to the third floor- Sark's floor. I quietly knocked on the door, not exactly sure what I'd find.
Sark opened it and I followed him inside. I saw a man sitting on the couch.
"Mr. Andrews, this is Sydney Bristow, my partner."
"Nice to meet you," I said, trying to hide my suspicions and not ask questions.
"Is this the agent that faked her death? The one that you told me about?" he asked in a heavy Scottish accent.
"Yes," said Sark.
"You must be a very good agent to fake your death and leave your family and friends behind.
My thoughts flew to Vaughn. It had only been three days, but it felt like an eternity to me. God, how I missed him.
"Since Agent Bristow and I are partners, we need you to hunt down Arvin Sloane. Sloane lately has been. . .a little too close for comfort. We want you to kill him," said Sark.
"You want me to find a man who is in hiding and assassinate him? Mr. Sark, if I am correct, you could easily assassinate him yourself. You're very close to him, if I'm not mistaken."
"I don't want the blood on my hands," he said simply. He opened the suitcase and displayed the massive amount of money. "Fifty grand. Yours, if you do this."
The man, Mr. Andrews, looked at me and I nodded.
"All right," he finally said. "I'll do it."
"Track him. You get paid only when you bring me the body," said Sark. "Mr. Andrews nodded, and left.
"Sloane will be here in a minute. Go into the other room and shut the door. Come out only when you hear "I lied." That's your cue.
"All right," I said as I heard a knock on the door. I quietly closed th door as Sark opened the other.
"Mr. Sloane," he acknowledged him.
"Mr. Sark," I pictured Sloane stepping into the room.
"Please, sit down."
"What was so urgent that you had to drag me away from Emily?"
"Sir, I lied."
I slowly turned the knob and quietly opened the door.
"About what?"
"About me," I said.
He stared at me like I was back from the dead or something. Oh yeah, I was.
"She's not dead," he said.
"No, she's not," said Sark. "She's agreed to cooperate"
***
Vaughn's POV
"Agent Vaughn," another agent came to my desk.
"Yeah?" I continued typing my report. Anything to keep my mind off Sydney.
"Agent Kendall wants to see you."
I looked up, curious as to why Kendall wanted to see me. I just nodded and headed to where the agent had directed me to go; the debrief room.
"Agent Kendall?" I asked after I knocked on the door. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yeah," he said. Jack was there, along with a couple other agents, including Eric, Will and Marshall, who all looked sympathetically at me, like they knew what was coming and I didn't. "Have a seat."
I sat. "Yeah?" I asked. I hadn't the slightest idea as to why I was here.
"Agent Vaughn, when we did an autopsy, along with various other tests on Agent Bristow's body, we found some. . .problems," said Kendall.
"Kendall, it's the same day of the funeral. Agent Bristow only died three days ago. Can we talk about this later?"
"Agent Vaughn," said Jack wearily, "let Kendall finish."
"Anyway, a test that was run on Agent Bristow's body showed. . ."
"Showed what?" I asked.
Kendall couldn't finish, and so Weiss did. "Mike, Syd was pregnant."
I stared in shock from Kendall, to Jack, to Weiss, and finally to Marshall and the other agents.
"Agent Vaughn, do you admit to a relationship with Sydney Bristow?"
Everyone turned their heads to look at me. "Why is everyone looking at me?"
"Uh, Vaughn, they've had you figured out for a long time," Weiss said, making everything suddenly seem obvious as I turned red.
"Oh. Okay then."
I looked at Kendall. "I didn't do it," I held my hands up in defense, trying to lighten the mood.
"Do you deny your relationship with Agent Bristow?" he asked, bringing back the seriousness of the situation.
"No," I couldn't deny loving Sydney.
"Agent Vaughn, you are familiar with protocol?"
Here it comes. I'm about to be kicked out. We Vaughn men just don't do well in the CIA, do we, Dad? I mentally asked my father.
"Agent Kendall, I'd like to propose that we look outside protocol and abandon this. Sydney is gone, and she was the other half of this relationship. I think that her death will take its toll enough on Agent Vaughn. Don't only take this out on him," said Jack. Kendall looked at him and nodded.
"Kendall?" I asked. "I swear, I did not get Sydney pregnant, and because of that, I still stand behind my belief that she is alive. I still believe that her death was somehow faked."
"Noted," Kendall said dully. "Meeting adjourned."
Once again, my thoughts went to Sydney. She was alive, I just knew it.
***
Sydney's POV
"What do you mean, "she's cooperating?" asked Sloane.
"Exactly what I said," said Sark.
"As in, the CIA believes that I am dead," I said.
"But it doesn't make sense. Why would she abandon the CIA?" he asked suspiciously, as if I wasn't even there. But then I knew that he knew I was there. He pulled out his gun.
"We have a partnership. Miss Bristow works for me and in return, Mr. Tippin and Miss Calfo stay alive," said Sark.
Sloane looked like he had won the jackpot. "So she's working for us?"
"Yes. She's working for us."