Far From Home
5.
No idea. I have no idea what to do. Where the hell am I supposed to go from here? I thought he was a genius for the sign language.
But that was staged. The pictures were faked.
I should have shot Horace when I had the chance.
I would have been caught in Italy.
But he knew. He knew I would remember.
So here I am, in a crowd at the airport, waiting to go back to LA. But where can I go now? How can I go back without anything to show for my absence?
Vaughn, please give me another clue. I need another clue. Please.
I promise I'll find you. I promise.
And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.
I readjust my grip on the small duffel bag hanging from my arm. I feel dead, as if I've been killed.
And I suppose, in a way, I have. I died the moment Vaughn was kidnapped.
No. I'm not going to let myself think like this. How many times have I got myself down when I lost someone?
I don't work well under conditions like these. So now I have to concentrate. I have to find him.
~:~
So once again, I find myself flipping through the photos, first looking at them slowly for any details and then flipping through them rapidly, watching the blur that rises from the page.
I move a little in my seat and look up, rubbing my sore eyes as I look quickly at the screen above me at the movie playing above.
I don't know what movie it is but Jodie Foster is kissing someone and I don't know who the man is but, for some reason, the scene gives me some sort of adrenaline and I go looking again.
C'mon Sydney, think. Just think. Okay, he's not in Italy. Look at the pictures. He would never give me a negation without giving me some sort of clue would he?
Okay, okay. If there was any time to be smart, this would be it.
Okay, he's thin and his hands are forming signs and his eyes are looking left. I don't see anything else new.
It's just him, sitting on a worn mattress, giving me false clues while also giving me also giving me a ray of hope.
Maybe it's not him... maybe it's something... about him? Around him? Next to him?
Despite myself, I gasp a little at my own revelation.
Around him. Next to him. Not on him.
I feel a little triumphant at finding it. Again.
Thank you Vaughn. Thank you thank you thank you.
And I pray that I am right this time. And I thank God that I have Vaughn to lead me where I have to go. I look up, making sure it is safe to use my phone. I unbuckle my seatbelt and make my way slowly to the plane bathroom and, as I put down the seat and sit on the lid of the toilet, dial a number.
"Weiss."
"Weiss? This is Sydn- Agent Bristow."
"What do you want?"
I have to try hard not to flinch. I know that he dislikes me. That he has every reason to dislike me; how could he not?
I cost him his best friend.
"I think I might have found a clue as to where Vaughn is."
Almost immediately, his tone changes and becomes more energized. "Where?"
"I need your help."
"You've got it. Just tell me what I need to do."
"I'm going to e-mail you around 30 pictures from the plane okay? Marshall updated my laptop. I need you to enlarge the surroundings. Everything except Michael himself."
"Where will you be?"
"Coming home."
"What? Where are you now? I haven't sent you on any missions."
"Is that really the important issue right now? I got photographs of Vaughn from a faulty contact and the clues that I found were staged. But I know that Vaughn left another clue somewhere. I know it."
"Wait what? What contact? How the hell could you trust him Syd? We haven't run him through the program or checked his records-"
"Shut up Weiss. Don't you think I know that? He was a faulty contact and gave me staged photographs. But that's not the important part. The important part is that Vaughn knew."
"Knew what?"
"Okay, the reason I'm in Italy is because I noticed something about Vaughn's hands. He was signing what I thought would be where he was. Trattoria di Nardi. His favorite restaurant in Italy. But when I got there, I got a weird instinct and when I looked at the pictures again, I found out something.
"Everything time he signed a letter, his eyes would look left."
"SO?"
"So he and I worked out a code years ago. Left means lie. He's anywhere but Italy."
"Or he's anywhere but Trattoria di Nardi."
I stop. I hadn't thought of that.
"Okay, you can check up on that but I need you to please check the photographs for any clues. Anything that might tell us where he is."
"All right Sydney. Is that it?"
I bite my lip. "No. There is one more thing."
"What?"
"I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I know that this is all my fault and that turning off my phone was a selfish thing to do. I'm sorry."
He heaves a big sigh and I feel the tears crawling towards my eyes again. "It's okay Syd. We all make mistakes. The important thing is that we have to get Vaughn back."
"I know."
"Syd?"
"What?"
"I- never mind. I'll work on it."
"Okay."
I end the call, a little apprehensive at what I've done. I shouldn't have called him, much less had a complete conversation on the phone with him. But we didn't say any specific words so I figure we're all right.
And if we're not, well then, that's just a risk we'll have to take. No risk is too big to take on Vaughn. I learned that when he contracted that virus nearly a year ago.
I almost lost him then. And I'm certainly not going to lose him now.
TBC…
Tell me what you think… I know that it's been awhile but try to find the strength that I know is in you somewhere to review!
It's fun for me and when it's fun for me, that means more chapters for you. ;)
-Jenn
