-First of all, while I may not have as many reviews as certain other stories, the ones I have are just wonderful! You guys really know how to brighten someone's day : ) It's great to hear that you like my character development or my style or just the stories in general, so keep them coming!

-Second, the title makes doesn't really go with the story well. But I already used the warehouse and the call so I went with a word from the last sentence. Just thought I'd let you know.

-Yes, it took forever to update, and yes, this chapter is shorter than most. But I promise it will be worth it, and I will get the next chapter up soon as I can. Seriously, I will.

-The Mavericks beat the Kings; the Mavericks beat the Kings . . .hehehe!

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Now I will tell you what I've done for you

Fifty thousand tears I've cried

Screaming deceiving and bleeding for you

And you still wont hear me

-Evanescence, Going Under

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Sydney listens as the gravel crunches under her tires. It took her ten minutes to get here, going ninety in a seventy-five zone, but she was here. She was finally here. It had taken nearly four years out of her life, but the end was near.

She parks the car and leaps out, slamming the door in the process. The sound of her heels clicking on the cold concrete reminds her of all the times she had entered the warehouse to find a heart-stopping smile waiting for her. She couldn't decide which was a better motivation to arrive in the back of the musty building, a conversation with the man of her dreams or the end of the man who haunted them.

She stopped short when she arrived at the gate, which had been left open for her. Plastering on a plastic smile, the one he had trained her so well to use, she was within feet of him in two long strides.

"Hello Sydney."

"Sloane."

"I'm glad you could join me. Is it safe to suspect that you're here alone?"

"I know the rules of the game, Sloane. You told me you had a proposal to make."

He grins at her, the grin of a man who thinks he has it all. Who thinks that the ball is in his court. Who thinks the pieces of the puzzle are falling together perfectly. Who has no idea he is more wrong than he has ever been.

"Sydney, since your return, things have been . . .different, have they not?"

"That's what happens when two years are stolen from your life."

Her voice is cold, calm, collected. The corners of his lips turn further upwards and he shakes his head in amused recognition. This only proves to spur on her hate, her anger, her taste for his demise.

"People have betrayed you, people you thought loved you have changed. Left you behind."

"Everyone had to move on eventually."

"Hypothetically, yes. But it still hurts."

"Like hell."

"Your friends, Francie and Mr. Tippen, they are no longer by your side . . ."

Her cheeks turn red and her rage increases at his audacity to bring them into this argument.

"Thanks to your . . ."

Waving his hand, he dismisses her accusation, continuing his righteous speech.

"Your mother betrayed you once again, and Jack was never the father figure you imagined. And then there's Agent Vaughn, the man you loved, the man you gave your life for more than once. He is married Sydney. You have no one. We both know that."

She wants to smile, to point and laugh out loud at his ignorance. But instead, she plays the part. She puts on her best performance as the poor double agent. Brown eyes bridge with tears and a stiff smile turns to a frown. He is buying it, and she can tell. His pompous demeanor only grows.

"But Sydney, I am still here for you, I always have been. I once said I felt as if you were my own, and I intend to treat you as so. You want something more, you need something to use your great talent on, now that the CIA has ignored everything you gave up for them. Something to get your mind of the betrayal, to keep you busy. If you accept my offer, you can have more than you have ever imagined. It is you in the prophecy Sydney, it is you Rambaldi chose to bring forth his works. Only you wield the greatest power this world has to offer. The time has come, the opportunity is here, all you have to do is reach out and take it."

Lies. So many lies. How can a man give his life up for an ancient prophecy? She asks herself this question one last time, and once again she comes up empty. There is no answer. There is no reason. She knows this, she always has, yet somehow he has failed to recognize that.

"Come with me, Sydney. I need your help, and you need mine. Without you, they are nothing, but you are special. I am offering you something no one else can. It is now or never. Say yes, and we can start tonight. All I need is an answer."

Finally, she allows herself to smile. A real, true, vibrant smile. Her eyes take in his reaction as she steps forward, he honestly thinks she believes.

She reaches him and stands close, so close that she can see the emptiness in his eyes, the emptiness he thinks she can fill. The first time she attempted his murder, it had been to save someone else's life. This time it was to save hers. Leaning in, she whispers words she has waited for to long to say.

"You know, Arvin, it isn't a very bright idea to name an agent after your dead wife."

Her smile widens as his expression turns from triumphant to udder disbelief. Once again, she has betrayed him.

"I'm good at what I do. *Nothing * gets past me. Of all people, you should know this. After all, you trained me to be the best. And I am. There is a list of men and women who I have full permission to kill. And lucky for me, you're name is on that list. Rot in Hell, Sloane."

She steps back, and watches.

Watches as his face goes pale.

Watches as his eyes turn dark.

Watches as his fingers find the blood now dripping from his chest.

Watches as he stumbles, and then falls.

And then she walks away.

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From the outside, he can hear nothing. Their words a whispered and never reach his waiting ears. But he will not risk getting closer; it would cost his life as well as hers. That is something he could never forgive himself for.

Suddenly, he hears a loud thud. A thud all to similar to the sound a body makes when it hits the ground. This scares the hell out of him, but still he sits. After a momentary silence, his ears perk up once again. This time to the sound of heels clicking on the gray floor. *Lady's heels. His entire body seems to relax at the knowledge that she is ok. But once again he grows tense when his eyes find her, walking briskly towards her car with no emotion whatsoever.

"Syd! Sydney!"

He calls her name, needing her to stop, needing to know what happened. But she does not react to his voice, but enters her car and turns on the engine,

"Sydney! Where the hell are you going? What . . ."

His questions are silenced by the screech of her tires as she pulls away from the building. Cursing, he jogs back towards where stood before, slowing as he enters. Cautiously, he creeps towards the back of the warehouse, unaware of what he might find. Soon enough, his suspicions are confirmed. Reaching into his back pocket, he grabs his phone and dials a familiar number.

"Vaughn."

"Where are you?"

"At the office, why?"

"You need to get your ass home, now."

"Why? Weiss, what's wrong?"

"Mike, I do NOT have time for you to question me! Get in your car and drive home, now damnit. And fast."

He hits end before giving him a chance to ask more questions. There is a more important call to make.

"Hello?"

"I need to talk with Agent Bristow."

"Your name, please."

"Agent Weiss, this is urgent."

"I'm sorry, but he is un . . ."

"I SAID it was URGENT!"

"Yes, sir, one moment."

"This is Bristow."

"Jack, I need a team at the warehouse immediately. You may want to consider tagging along."

"Agent Weiss, would you mind telling me just what for?"

"The retrieval of Arvin Sloane."

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-Don't you just love it? And yes, I know that it was a bit morbid and un- Sydney-ish, but again, it's the truth. The man needed to die. And now he's dead. Hurrah! So what's next, you ask? The more you review the sooner you find out! So take a few seconds and drop me a line!