Title: Raw Precision
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: Post "The Telling"; be warned, it picks up immediately where ep leaves off.
Two chapters in less then 12hrs! That's *got* to be a record (where *is* this story coming from? lol)
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Los Angeles was far too bright for her as they landed, particularly in contrast to the Hong Kong alley she last awoke in. The airplane seat was surprisingly comfortable under her sore body. Turning her head she spotted Vaughn across the aisle, working quickly on a laptop, oblivious to her attention. This was worse then before SD-6 had gone down, she quickly decided. Back then she had hoped his feelings were as they appeared to be, but hadn't yet known what it was like to be with him. Now she knew, and now he'd moved past her. For all she knew he was madly in love with his wife - it pained her to consider him loving any woman more than her - with a child. A normal life. Once again it was without her. So what if it wasn't Alice, it was most likely some other saccharine sweet, well-intentioned petite blonde. Or worse yet it was a tall, brunette doe eyed government employee. She wasn't sure which was the worse option.

Somewhere during her stroll through her dead dreams he had realized she was awake. Quickly he shut the laptop and leaned across the aisle to scoop her attention. "Hey," he greeted softly with just a trace of a smile. If she shut her eyes she could still remember being on the receiving end of that grin, as they lay in bed smitten with one another. "How are you feeling?"

Unable to meet his gaze, she shut her eyes. "My head hurts."

"I could get you something -"

"I'm fine," she assured him. The physical pain was enviable to the numbness she felt inside. Everything she'd grown to know and love had now been completely invalidated.

"Syd, there's no need for you to have a headache -"

"I'm alright, really."

Even though he obviously didn't believe her, he nodded and readjusted himself comfortably. With a glance tossed back at him over the aisle, she hoped she sounded casual as she spoke, "So do you have any kids?"

"Syd . . . "

"What? I'm trying to learn everything I've missed."

"No," he sighed and studied his finger. "No kids. Syd, whatever you think of me… the CIA is not likely to go easy on you, despite what influence your Father and I have. You have to know I'm on your side through this."

"My ally," she repeated his long-ago words as her eyes remained fixed on an invisible point in the distance. She'd always known he was, even when she didn't like him she sensed that he was trustworthy. When her eyes shut she was surprised that the image was not one of them but of Francie, falling to the floor as the last of the bullets hit her. "I killed Francie," she whispered.

"She was going to kill you if you hadn't. We thought she *had* killed you."

"Francie… she was my best friend since college and I killed her. I killed Danny. I ruined Will's life," she finished softly. While he'd apologized for his ill-timed words, and she was certain he hadn't meant them, the weight of how true they were still brought her down.

In his seat he watched helplessly. This was a woman he loved - still loved - but had finally learned to live without. Now she was back again, scared, confused and needing him more desperately then ever before. There was nothing easy or painless about this situation. He'd spent countless late nights in bed - alone and with his wife - staring at the ceiling, contemplating her return. A small cloud of guilt hung over his head after his marriage, even after Dixon, Will and even Jack Bristow had given him their blessing. To compensate for his guilt, Vaughn had imagined that she was out there, that she'd finally escaped this hellish life and was happy. Sometimes he even imagined *she* was married with children. Now she was back and he was left to feel the guilt.

"We should go," he realized as the plane gracefully glided onto the runway. The nod she gave him was barely a tilt of her head as he followed her out of the plane. When she spotted two black government issued cars on the runway, she sent him a look that broke his heart. "Agent Gibson is going to take you in to headquarters. I'll meet you there Syd," he assured her.

"You don't have to do that," she softly dismissed his concern.

"I'm going to be there," he assured her, hoping she heard him as Agent Gibson led her into the back seat of his car.

Once in his car he closely trailed Gibson's car, fumbling for his cell phone. His thumb pressed hard against the 2 on the phone, connecting quickly to his cell phone's memory as he put the phone to his ear. As he'd expected, a cheery voice greeted him on the answering machine. With one ear he listened as he kept an eagle eye on Gibson's car. "Hi, you've reached the Vaughn residence. Leave us your name and your number and we'll get back to you as soon as we can! Thanks!"

A loud, painful beep zapped his ear as he cringed. "Hey, it's me. I'm not sure where you are… I'm sure you know this, but they found Syd," he sighed softly into the phone. "I'm back in L.A. Hopefully I'll see you there. If not… well, I'm not sure when I'll be home," he conceded. "If you need something, just call me. Oh, and please call Dr. Orange about Donny's vet appointment. I obviously wasn't in town to take him. Just reschedule the appointment," he instructed. "I'll see you either at headquarters or at home. Bye," he said as he pressed off and tossed the phone back in his pocket.

The next time he saw Sydney she wore a pained look of confusion as she obediently followed Gibson into headquarters, either not sensing his presence or fully ignoring him. He stood in the middle of headquarters, searching for Marshall or Carrie, Weiss or Will, hell even Kendall, as Gibson got Sydney situated in her cell. No one he knew well was visible, and certainly no one he wanted to talk to. A tap on his shoulder whizzed him around to face an apprehensive looking Gibson.

"Agent Bristow would like to see you sir."

"Thanks," he slapped the younger agent on the back and quickly made his way to the holding cells. His strides were long and his steps were as quick as he could muster without gaining suspicion. After her disappearance they'd practically interrogated him about their relationship and what he might have known. Now that she was back, good or bad, he wanted to help her. Drawing attention once again to their relationship, particularly now that he was married, would not aid him in doing that.

The guard let him into the cell, where Sydney was sitting on the cot staring at her hands. They'd been kind enough to give her a pad, a pen and a mattress, sheets and pillows for the bed. Still it was a poor substitute for the lush, comfortable environment she deserved to be in. When the door shut and the guard disappeared down the hall, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes yet again.

"I have a scar."

"What?" his forehead creased as he slowly stepped towards her. Slowly she pulled to her feet and slightly lifted her shirt. Then her finger traced the newly found scar. "Did you -"

"It's not from fighting Francie," she explained. "This doesn't look like a combat scar anyway."

"No, it doesn't," he softly agreed.

"The guard said they're going to take me to medical services soon."

"They will," he nodded. "They'll want to see that. We have no idea where you've been Syd, maybe this will help us figure it out."

"What day is it?"

"October fourth."

"2005," she supplemented as he nodded. "I'm thirty now," she realized. A voice in the back of her head wondered if she should have begun worrying about her biological clock by now.

"Yeah, you are," his voice was gravelly over her soul.

"Vaughn," she brushed hair out of her face. "I appreciate that you're here to help me, please don't think that I don't," she assured him. The truth was she was too tired, overwhelmed and numbed to fight with him over all the changes that now pained her. "I'm going to have to go to medical service soon, and I'd like to see my father before I do."

"I'll have someone contact him."

"Someone contact him? You haven't informed my father that I've been found?"

"We didn't want to bother him before we were sure it was really you."

"Bother him? I'm his daughter, I'm sure he'd want to be informed immediately -"

"I'm sure he would too Syd, but I didn't want to upset him earlier then necessary. We've had a lot of false leads, good and bad, before you showed up. I made the judgment call not to upset him, not to further jeopardize his health for unnecessary reasons. As his daughter I'd think you'd agree with me," he icily informed her.

"His health?"

"Jack's sick."

"Sick? What do you mean sick? My father hasn't been sick a day in his life!"

"Syd, I'm not sure I'm the one who should be -"

"Damn it Vaughn, tell me what's going on."

With a wave of his hand he silenced her before he barked, "Jack's dying."

A/N: Hey, is that a cliffie?! lol, if it is, I think it's among my first. Poor Jack - I love him, really :) But my mind has it's own life today it seems . . . Hey, not sure when they'll pick up again, but it'll probably be 2005 when the start the season, and I chose 10/4 because it'll be my 20th birthday (scary, but true). Hey, happy Cinco de Mayo (and happy 5th birthday to my half sister! - not that she's likely to ever read this, but still). Okay, please R&R. I'm not entirely sure where this is going . . . Reviews are the wind in my sails!