Chapter Twenty-One: Gone
Michael and Sydney returned from the restaurant late, horny, and a little drunk, not necessarily in that order. They were barely through the front door when his lips began their assault on the neck and shoulders that the strappy dress she wore left bare. She pushed off his jacket and began struggling with the buttons of his white dress shirt as his lips returned, hungrily, to hers, claiming her mouth with one biting kiss after another.
"Take me to bed, Michael," she breathed.
"Whatever the lady wants," he responded in a low murmur. It was something he had said before, often, usually when he knew how desperate for him she was.
"Good," she said, a wicked gleam in her eye. "Because the lady wants you in her bed. Now."
"I'd put those plans on hold for now if I were you."
Sydney screamed and jumped back, her face reddening. Somehow, for the space of about thirty seconds, she'd managed to forget that she had children that very well might be home and awake at this late hour on New Year's Eve-- well, New Year's Day, now, she supposed. For a split second, she flashed back to the night in St. Bart's when her father had walked in on her and Michael in a similar situation, demanding to know if they had betrayed him. She wasn't sure which was more embarrassing-- being caught in the act by Jack Bristow, or by Jack Vaughn.
But like Jack Bristow, Jack Vaughn didn't appear embarrassed at all. In fact, it seemed he had an agenda. "You're home awfully late," he said, his voice almost hostile. "I'd have thought you'd want to get home at a decent hour to make sure your children were home safe in their beds."
"Jack--"
"But when have you ever done the sensible thing?" Jack interrupted, his voice loud, angry. "When have you ever done anything but bliss out about how lucky you are to be living on your little island with your little restaurant and your little family? When have you ever thought to do anything like tell your children about your pasts with the CIA and the wonderful Organization, so they might know who their parents are? When have you ever told them how dangerous their grandmother is, so they would know better than to welcome her with open arms when she came to town?"
"Jack, what are you talking about?" He was truly scaring Sydney, not just with his words, but with his voice, which had grown louder and louder until he was practically screaming.
"Emily is gone."
It took a moment for the statement to register with either Michael or Sydney. "What do you mean, gone?" Michael finally asked. "Is she still out with Keith?"
"No, Dad, she's not still out with Keith." Jack spit out the words as if they tasted bad. "You have much worse things to worry about than your precious little girl going too far with her boyfriend. But then, you already know that, don't you?"
"Jack, just tell us what's happened," Sydney begged. The CIA...the Organization...her mother...oh, God, it could have been anything.
"Emily and I saw our grandmother."
Sydney stared at her son, eyes filled with horror. "Jack, why would you--"
"We didn't know, all right?" Jack shouted, green eyes blazing anger. "There could have been a million reasons we hadn't seen her in a decade. Like Emily said, lots of people don't speak to their parents."
"Jack--"
"You should have warned us, damn it!" Jack cut in, angry tears clouding his eyes. "You should have warned us how dangerous she was! You should have told us why you didn't want us to see her!"
"Jack, we need a straight answer from you." Through the steel in Michael's voice, Sydney could hear the barely contained hysterics. "Where is Emily?"
"I don't know," Jack spat, turning a gaze full of something very close to hatred on Sydney.
"Why don't you ask your mother?"