Disclaimer: I don't own this.

A/N: Hey. Thanks to S. Nicolai and Aimee for reviewing the last chapter. You guys rock! Hopefully I wouldn't be too long updating the next, I'll try my best not to be. Also please note that I've never been to Russia before, so I'm sorry if I've gotten anything wrong. Well, R&R and enjoy!!! - Bex

'Without the mask where will you hide? I can't find yourself lost in your lies.' ~ 'Everybody's Fool' Evanescence

~*~*~*~*~

After hours of travelling in thick silence, they arrived in the country where Sydney Bristow was not safe to return to. But Lara Murdock was. As far as the Russians around them were concerned, the couple entering the hotel in St Petersburg had no other names then Paul and Lara Murdock. They walked close together, arms linked like a normal happy couple, but if anyone were looking carefully they would see the discomfort in the husband's eyes. But no one gave the pair a second glance.

Just like every guest who had come in before them; they checked in, the bellboy took their bags to their room and they were wished an overly cheerful "Have a nice day". But unlike every guest before them, when they reached their room, they scanned it for bugs.

"All clear," Vaughn announced, placing the scanner away and gladly removed his wig so his head could breathe.

"I would be more careful about doing that 'Paul'," Sydney advised.

The look he gave her told her exactly what he was thinking; paranoid. He filled a glass of water from the tap and sipped the ice-cold liquid.

"There's no way that Irina could know that the CIA were sending us here," He stated firmly.

"Do you remember Adrian King, the CIA agent who died in that tragic car crash three days before I handed myself in?" She asked in here emotionless tone.

He froze and stared at her, her tone chilling his blood more then the water. Was she suggesting what he thought she was?

"You killed him?" He demanded unable to keep the horror from his voice.

"I was doing you a favour. Finally plugging your leak. How did you think I was always three steps ahead of you?"

He glared at her. Her mask didn't change at his outburst, nor did it change now. Was she lying? It unnerved him that blinking was the only movement that happen on her face.

"Trust me Agent Vaughn, Irina Derevko had eyes and ears every where."

A part of him wanted to burst out with bitter laughter. Trust was an extremely funny word coming from her lips. The words 'trust me' were just insane. And yet a part of him did trust her about Agent King. Thinking of him as a mole did make sense, even explain things which had happened. In a way, it fitted perfectly together like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

But then he reminded himself who this who was telling him this. Sydney Bristow: a woman who would gladly stab him in the back first chance she got, without batting an eyelid. A woman responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, and he wondered how many had fallen pray to her lies.

'Trust me'; what a foolish notion that could get you killed. And yet sometimes you needed it to survive.

The uncomfortable silence began to settle in the room again, causing the tension between them to become so thick that it could be sliced with a knife. Vaughn tipped his head back and downed the last of his drink. He whipped his backhand across his mouth, then turned his attention back to Sydney. She sat on the cream couch, holding Katia's bear delicately in her hands. Even though he couldn't see it physically, he felt her pain and it quelled his anger towards her.

Upon clearing his throat to break the silence, she looked up at him.

"So who's this person who's going to lead us to Irina?" He inquired, for she had refused to tell him before.

"A man called Yuri Vershinin. He's the one who arranged the fake passports and got us out of the country. Yuri was the only one who had any idea where we might be going," She informed him, resentment lightly staining her usual tone.

"And where is he now?"

"I have no idea, but I know a man who does," She stated simply.

"And who would that be."

A mysterious smile played on her lips and she avoided his question; "How would you like to taste some local cuisine to night Paul?" She asked cryptically. "I know this wonderful restaurant."

He inspected her face curiously. It gave away nothing; the only expression was her teasing smile. A smile she'd used before on him many years ago. Her emotions were beginning to break free, like they only did around her children. Her emotionless tones and expressions were beginning to be overwhelmed by rebellious feelings. And a part of his couldn't help but unwisely wish that somewhere under the mask and all of the defences, Sydney Bristow still lived.

A/N: What do you think? The only way I going to know is if you tell me, so hit that button now. :o)