Chapter Two
Worst Case Scenario

"...But I can't believe that Sydney would just switch sides like that," he tried to explain to Kendall as he hovered behind the his shoulder, but his words didn't seem to penetrate the other man's stony exterior as he watched the video of Sydney from Mexico City. "There's no motivation for it. She hates Sloane and her mother deceived her, deceived all of us. Sydney and I, we talked about how easily Derevko could give us false information, even when she was back in our custody, and Sydney might have decided to take matters into her own hands to make sure that couldn't happen. It has to be something she planned to get close to both Sloane and Derevko, take them down from the inside. I can't--I won't believe Sydney would ever do this to us."

He concluded his speech a little breathlessly and looked to Kendall, who was regarding the monitor with extreme intensity as it showed him the image of Sydney opening the briefcase. He considered for a long moment before he chose his words, "Did you and Ms. Bristow ever plan this?"

"No. I never brought it up because I dismissed it as too risky. You know what going that deep undercover can do to people--"

"Yes, I do," Kendall interrupted him with a wave of his hand, his eyes still on Sydney as she handed over the documents to Irina. "Did she ever discuss this with any other agents that you know of?"

"No, no, not that I'm aware..."

His lips pressed into a grim line at the same time Sydney took Irina's hand. "Then we'll assume the worst." He shook his head a little, as if he were trying to clear it of some lingering doubt. "We have to accept the idea--no matter how implausible--that she has been working as an agent for Sloane inside the CIA for some time now, maybe from the very beginning. It is quite possible that she was never the person we thought she was." He swung around to face Vaughn for the first time, catching his eyes like he could bore his message straight into them. "Forget everything you ever knew about her, Vaughn; it was all a game, a ploy. Sydney Bristow is the enemy now."

He had been expecting this declaration from nearly the moment that he had realized she was really gone, but he had still reserved some pocket of hope that maybe everything would turn out for the best, so the statement hit him harder than it should have. A knot began to form in the pit of stomach and a faint ache started in his chest at the revelation that their whole relationship could have been based on a fabrication, that she had lied when she said she loved him.

Behind Kendall, Sydney's eyes stared at him hauntingly, saying goodbye in a way only she could.

Kendall must have perceived the emotions rolling off of him because his temperament seemed to melt the tiniest bit, and he placed an almost comforting hand on the Vaughn's arm. "Why don't you go home? Take a week or two vacation. Maybe with time you'll get some perspective." Kendall removed his hand while a bullet sliced untraceable through the air on the screen and it erupted into static. "When you come back everything will be better."

* * * * * * * * *

He felt dirty, used, and his skin crawled where the ghosts of her hands touched. He wanted to wash her off, find the harshest soap he could and scrub away the memories. But he couldn't go home, he wasn't ready to face that yet, because she was there too; she was in the extra toothbrush by the sink and the clothes she had left last time she was over, the whole place reeked of her scent, like honeysuckles and spring rain.

So he drove. He drove because the roads never ended, and maybe they would finally take him someplace far enough away that she got left behind. Eventually though, he found himself closer than he meant to be. He put the car in park and gazed out across the humid California night to her house, watching the two figures flicker and move in the light of the windows. Will and Francie.

He wondered what they would be told, what lies would they make up for Francie, and if they would let Will know the horrible truth of it all. He wondered if Sydney had ever considered what her desertion would do to all of them while making her decision. He wondered if she would have stayed if he had known to ask her to.

A silhouette stole down the lawn towards the street, and he tensed automatically, a hand darting to his holster, but when a shaft of light fell on the person's face he relaxed, rolling down his passenger window instead.

"Hey," Will greeted him with a lopsided smile. "I thought I saw someone out here." He braced an arm against the edge of the door and craned his head inside, looking into the back seat. "Syd's not with you? I thought since she wasn't home yet..." He trailed off as he finally read the undercurrents hanging in the air, and there was silence as Vaughn tried to frame his words carefully.

He settled on, "Get in."

Will obliged, precariously sliding into the seat next to Vaughn like he expected the ground to drop out from underneath him at any moment. Little did he know it already had.

And Vaughn drove; he drove until he found an empty gravel parking lot miles from anything he knew because he was still trying to run away from the heartache that was chasing him. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, glancing out into the blackness beyond the windshield, and discovered yes, the pain was there too.

Will was quiet the whole ride, sitting still with his features cast in the sickly green light reflecting off the dashboard, his lips pressed tight together as he undoubtedly ran every gruesome scenario over in his mind. Even after they stopped, it took him awhile to calm his shaking insides and scrounge up the courage to ask.

"How did it happen? H-how did she die?"

Vaughn's profile was full of sharp lines and angles as he kept his eyes on the darkness outside. "She's not dead."

Will shoulders eased some, but he still had other fears. "Has she been captured?"

"No, not captured."

"Then what the hell happened?" he cried impatiently.

Will's sudden vehemence threw him off guard and some of his own anger leaked through the walls he had been building, "She's a damn traitor!" He lowered his voice, clenching his hands around each other as he shook off the outburst, "She joined forces with Sloane and her mother while we were in Mexico City, handed the Rambaldi over to Irina in front of everyone and walked out with her."

"No, she couldn't have." Vaughn heard himself in Will's fierce denial, and he felt a shooting pity for the other man that would have broken his heart if it hadn't already been in pieces.

Will saw the look the other man gave him, tired and gaunt and so disillusioned, with the truth screaming in it in a way he couldn't ignore. "Oh God," he whispered, collapsing back into his seat. "Oh God. What am I going to tell Francie?"

"I don't give a damn," Vaughn snapped coldly, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. He was unable even to comfort himself, so how could he be expected to reach out to Will?

There was a pause from the other side of the car before a hand laid itself tentatively on his back in a gesture of support. It was only then that he realized how insensitive he was being. Sydney had been Will's friend too, and this had to hurt him just as much as it had Vaughn.

He raised his head, giving Will a genial nod as his hand fell away, and started the engine back up. Neither one made an attempt to speak on the way back to the house, each knowing how the other felt, knowing that they weren't the kind of emotions you could ever describe, and even if you had the words, would never want to talk about until years and years later when the wounds had healed. As of now, the wounds were open and bleeding.

Will climbed out of the car and shut the door behind him, and he was about to start up towards the house when Vaughn stopped him with a light touch on his knuckle. Will wavered and the two men locked eyes.

"You're a good guy, Will."

Will started to turn away again, but lingered for a few seconds more, unsure. "I--I really do think she cared about you." Before Vaughn could ask what he meant, though, Will was gone, striding up the sidewalk to the house to face his drastically changed life.

Vaughn watched as he disappeared into the door and took a few deep breaths, deciding he was at last ready to confront his apartment. He put the car in gear and began to slowly glide down the street, but Will emerged from the inside again, running this time, his arms waving in a desperate attempt to flag him down. Vaughn pressed on the brake to let him catch up, and Will clung to the door as he did, hanging half way in the window as he dragged in heavy lungfuls of air. "Francie," came the broken voice, "she's gone." His eyes were wide and frightened as they sought out Vaughn's and he looked very young and vulnerable, much like what he was: someone who had just lost his two best friends in the world.

Wordlessly, Vaughn reached over the seats to open the door, and Will crumpled in next to him in a disconsolate heap. He had to give Will some credit for his valiant effort to keep his emotions in check, but everyone is afraid of being alone, and Will was a man who had suddenly found himself very much alone after the double blows of Sydney and Francie. It wasn't long before the tears began to flow, and he let his head fall into his hands and filled the dark, velvet night with his despairing, hopeless sobs.