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.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Never will. Dream job is a writer on this show, but I'm only seventeen so I'll stick to fanfiction. Don't own anything else recognizable either. The only thing I have control of is Becky, and if you really want her (why would you want her?!) then you can have her.
Dedication: To Meg, who unlike all of you, is forced to live with me :)
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The most vivid memory he had was October 1, 2001. The day he had a broken watch and an instinct. If someone had told him on that day that he'd be married in four years and it *wouldn't* be to the woman across from him with the bozo hair and bloody mouth, he wouldn't have believed them. He'd never been cynical enough to completely disregard the concept of love at first sight, but until then he had thought it was necessary to actually know a person's natural hair color before such things could occur. Sydney Bristow, quick as a whip and just as brutal, had proven him wrong. Even while his head had debated whether or not the woman in front of him was insane, his heart would have none of it.
Four years and ten days later, he walked into the CIA building to begin another full week at work. During the course of the day he felt as though Dixon, Will and Jack were avoiding him. The four of them had formed a bond over the two years since her disappearance. While he wouldn't classify it as a friendship, they easily carried on discussions and were there when he or any one of the others was going through a tough spot. Still, he continued on with his work, relieved when Will approached him at the end of the day to discuss the possibility of going to a Lakers game sometime soon.
On his way towards his car at the conclusion of the day, he was surprised to hear Jack Bristow call his name. Michael made the courtesy and approached the man. "I thought you should be made aware that Kendall plans on bringing Sydney in Wednesday."
"I thought she requested a week, that's only six days."
"Yes, well, this is Kendall, six days is a gift," Jack reminded him as he nodded. "She'll also be seeing your wife on Thursday."
"I know." He brushed the underside of his nose and studied a grease stain on the parking lot wall. "Becky also wants us to go to a joint session."
"Frankly I'm not sure if that's a good idea or not," the older agent conceded. "Sydney has yet to express her opinion on such matters."
Finally he met Jack's gaze, "How is she?"
"She returned from Santa Barbara last night," he explained as the younger man's face creased. "Sydney's a strong woman, she'll come through this."
"Has she . . ."
"No, she hasn't mentioned you," he answered.
"I'd like to be at her hypno-regression sessions," Vaughn confessed. The idea of her going through all of that with just an uninvolved therapist to support her clenched his heart.
"I'm doubting my daughter will agree to that."
"Then you should be there," he corrected. "Someone should be there. Whatever she does or doesn't uncover, she shouldn't go through it alone."
"Yes, I agree," he nodded. "I'll suggest it to her."
"Does she need anything?"
"Today she planned to go through her belongings… Sort through things… I suspect she wants to be alone right now."
Vaughn was silent as he nodded. "I should get going," he realized as he shook hands with the older man.
"Have a good night Agent Vaughn," Jack called as Vaughn waved, got into his car and drove away.
The half a dozen boxes that Will and Dixon had removed from storage for her were mostly familiar. She recognized her handwriting when she'd first moved into the apartment so many years ago. They had removed the more practical items, her clothes and a box of books and music. Since she was currently living in her father's house, there was very little room to put her belongings, but she had managed to make room in the empty closet for her clothes and arrange the music and books in the room as well. Finally she was left with one small purple box. It was barely bigger than a hatbox, and she didn't recall ever owning it. Getting comfortable on the bed, she lifted the slight weight into her lap and pulled off the top.
Whoever had packed it had obviously done so with caution and care. At the top of the box, resting on a pile of purple tissue paper, was a faded ticket stub. Even though the words were difficult to make out, she recognized it. It had been her ticket to the first - and only - Kings game they had gone to see together. After that was cautiously placed to the side, she unfolded the tissue paper. A slight pool of tears swam into her eyes as she cautiously picked up the item. The silver picture frame had been the first gift he'd ever given her, and before her disappearance she'd placed a photo of the two of them in it. They were obviously shivering, but grinning like fools. Weiss had taken the photo outside of the Staples Center as they had anxiously waited for Francie, Will, and Amy Tippin to arrive for the aforementioned Kings game. It was the first photo she had of the two of them, and it only seemed appropriate to put it in the frame.
Underneath the frame, which she hesitantly set to rest on her night table, was a familiar hockey puck. Sydney laughed, suddenly aware of how many hockey-related events they had attended outside of work. He'd given her the puck after she'd seen him play for the first time. At first he'd been embarrassed when he handed her the round, black object he'd used to win the game, but his complexion had quickly cleared when she kissed and thanked him. Next to the puck was the cork from the bottle of wine that they had shared on their first night together. On the side of it she had written the date, 2/6/03 - it had been a Thursday. So recently in her time, yet over two years in real time.
The last items were two packets of pictures that showed the two of them, and a few with Will and Francie as well. Slowly she flipped through them, clearly remembering the story and event behind every snapshot. Their joy had been as obvious as their smitten expressions. Whenever they had been around one another, the wrinkles on his forehead seemed to disappear and her dimples were impossible to hide. The only thing that confused her was that there was only one copy of each photo, no doubles or negatives, and she *always* got doubles.
"Dad?" she tentatively addressed him over dinner. The meal had been eaten in relative silence, and Jack looked up from his plate in surprise. "Will and Dixon… They brought over a purple box… It's obviously important, or else they never would have bothered with it…"
"Yes, Sydney?"
"I was wondering, I know it was a long time ago, but do you remember who packed that box?"
"Yes." He looked down at his food. "I remember it very clearly. Agent Vaughn put that box together, and even insisted on driving it to the storage facility on his own."
"Why didn't he keep it?"
"Whatever was in that box Sydney, Agent Vaughn obviously felt it belonged to you and only you." Sydney nodded as Jack continued, "Do you have sufficient clothing?"
"Dixon and Will were great, I have more then I could wear in a year," she smiled. "I did some shopping in Santa Barbara too, so I'm fine."
"Will you be ready for Wednesday?"
"Kendall wants me back, it's my job," she shrugged. "I'll be fine."
"If it's an issue Sydney, I can arrange for your time to be extended."
"No," her head shook. "I need to do this. The sooner I get past this, the sooner I can move on. I need to move on… I know it won't be easy, but I have to do it."
"You'll do well Sydney. You've undergone hypno-regression therapy before and it's been proven effective."
"I'm concerned," she admitted. "Not that it won't work, I *know* it will work. I'm just worried about what we'll find."
"Have you considered who you will take with you?" Jack cautiously asked. The confusion was obvious on his daughter's face as he carried on. "Don't you think it'd be a wise move to bring someone there to… support you?"
Silently her father was pleased with himself for making a useful suggestion on an issue that she obviously hadn't considered. There was so little Jack could do to assist his daughter, she was more then capable of taking care of herself. While he couldn't imagine being as proud of anyone as he was of Sydney, there were moments when he enjoyed being able to offer her a little direction or comfort. Due to no one's fault but his own, those moments were scarce but still meaningful.
After an extended silence, Sydney finally spoke. "Would you be there?"
"Yes," he nodded. "If you'd like me to be, I will."
"Thank you," she smiled.
The next evening Sydney spent out with Marshall, Carrie and Will. The three went out for pizza - Carrie's latest craving - and caught up. The young couple beamed in one another's presence, and the usually bubbling Marshall wore an uncharacteristic sense of calm in his wife's presence. Over pepperoni and garbage pizza ("It's not actually garbage, it's just a lot of different toppings," Marshall had felt the need to explain) they laughed and made easy conversation. Even though they obviously stuck to neutral, simple topics of conversation for her sake, she was just relieved to have the opportunity to enjoy an evening out with friends. One last hurrah before she was set to report to work the next morning.
No one was more surprised than Sydney, when Will arrived the next morning at the Bristow home for breakfast. More surprising, was that her father's reaction bordered on pleased when he saw the young man. Rose served a delicious breakfast before her friend offered to drive her to work. Jack explained that he would be going into work late and wished his daughter and Will a good day as they departed.
"How are you doing Agent Bristow?" Kendall met her at her desk. It was in the same location that it had always been, although she was certain an agent had to be relocated for her benefit. A quick glance around the room told her that Vaughn had yet to arrive and she made a mental note to avoid him.
"I'm good," she smiled.
"I'd like to talk to you about your mother."
The smile she had recently forced to her face quickly disappeared. "What about her?"
"There are… ways of insuring that the enemy knows what you want them to know. We'd like to make it known that you're back."
"What purpose would that serve?"
"Well Agent Bristow we're hoping that your mother will show a bit of her maternal side and contact us."
"You're assuming my mother *has* a maternal side."
He shrugged and nodded his chin, a habit that had always annoyed her and reminded her of a dead fish. "There is some precedent to believe that she might."
"What does my father say about this?"
"I haven't mentioned it to him yet."
"I think you should," she calmly suggested.
"Agent Bristow, I am going to use your return to help us track down your mother. I just wanted you to know that, so you need to expect possible contact."
"For all we know my mother could have had something to do with my disappearance!"
"Well that's just a risk we have to take. This is just a courtesy Agent Bristow, I'm not asking for your permission," he reminded her. Then he turned and left her speechless at her desk.
The careful science of avoiding Vaughn was more delicate then she'd assumed. There was plenty of work to keep her busy. Piles of paperwork still needed to be filled out, reviewed and then signed. She'd also made a request to read all the files that the CIA had on her disappearance. As a former literature major, Sydney could read faster than most people, but the three massive folders even gave her, cause to be slightly intimidated.
At the beginning of the day she'd made a choice to fill out the necessary paperwork before she read what she'd requested. Whatever information she could give the CIA, and whatever she signed off on, she wanted it to be based on what *she* remembered. If she read what they had sent her, it was inevitable that her memories would be slightly tainted by the stories of others. Once she'd finished a stale egg salad sandwich in the cafeteria with Will, Weiss, Carrie and Marshall she got focused on her reading.
Every investigative form was signed off on either by Jack, Vaughn or Eric's hand. Nearly every analytical report had been completed by Will, even though they didn't start until nearly two weeks after her disappearance. Given the state he'd been in when she'd last seen him at the apartment, she could only assume that he'd completed his work from his hospital bed. The first folder was dedicated to only the first ten days she'd been gone. After that, the information crept in slower, and they covered the next nearly twenty-four months in two folders. The photos were disturbing. Images of bloodstains and the body of Francie's double. Eventually she even came across a grotesque photo of the decomposing body of the real Francie. There was even a copy of the autopsy report, that stated Francie had died in late January 2003 from a close-range bullet to the brain - she'd died instantly.
Pages and pages were dedicated to their 'investigation' of Vaughn. The questions ranged from work related to personal. The disciplinary committee eventually let him off the hook with a temporary downgrade of his security clearance. They had determined that whatever 'inappropriate' relationship they might have shared, it wasn't until *after* she was no longer his asset. Plus, their relationship had not negatively affected the quality of their work or interfered with those around them. It was her father's signature at the bottom of the page that freed Vaughn of any suspicion.
"Kendall's an ass," Jack assured her at the end of the day. Will had to stay late to work on a report, so Jack had suggested they ride back to the house together.
"I see he told you about his plan to try to draw mom in."
"Your mother will see through this sham. I doubt she'll contact you, if she hasn't already had you in her care for the last two years," Jack shot as the driver helped him into the car.
"I don't appreciate his desire to use me as a pawn," she agreed and snapped her seatbelt into place. "I'm going to go home directly after my session tomorrow."
"I'll take care of Kendall."
"Dad," she sighed and looked out the dark-tinted windows. "I don't think he's going to be held back on this."
"Sydney you must remember that Director Kendall is my superior on paper only."
A smile crossed her face at her father's insinuation. Even in his physical state, she had no doubt that he could still kill a man with a well-placed finger. He was still intimidating, and she swore she still saw agents take extra precautions to avoid walking in his path. "Marshall and Carrie are going to give the baby Sydney as a middle name," she grinned.
That even forced a smile onto his stony features. A small smile, but still a smile. "Virginia Sydney Flinkman… It certainly is an interesting name."
She smiled and nodded. In the back of her mind she imagined what could have happened if she'd had a child with Vaughn, or what might have happened if she *remembered*. Sydney had always been fond of the name Megan …
"Sydney?" Her daydreams puffed away at her father's voice. "Sydney, have you given any thought to what would happen if your mother did choose to make contact? Whether you want to or not you'll end up back in the field for at least a short amount of time."
"It's going to take time before she even hears that I'm back, if she ever finds out. If she does, it'll be to trade me for Sark," she sighed.
"Sydney, did you believe that Sark was still in our custody?" Jack was truly baffled as his daughter met his eyes.
"You said he was transferred to Camp Harris after he stonewalled."
"You didn't believe he actually *remained* there, did you?" He looked mildly amused. "He escaped almost a year ago, shortly after his transfer to the camp."
"That bastard," she muttered with a glare out the window.
After an extended silence he spoke, "Sydney?"
Her head nodded and looked over at him. "I'm going to be fine."
"There's always evidence Sydney, we just need to find it."
Sydney hated Thursdays. The only purpose they served was for 'Friends', a television show that had ended its long run the previous television season. Now she didn't even have that to look forward to on that horrible day. The only bright spot was her father's promise that Kendall would give her no difficulty when she left after her hypno-regression therapy.
That morning she had gone through the motions. Brush teeth, shower, brush hair and change. While she applied her makeup in the natural early morning light, she was struck by the desire to call Francie. Her best friend had randomly appeared in her mind and she closed her eyes. This time there were no tears, just a sad throbbing in her heart. Francie would put an optimistic spin on things, convince her that everything would turn out for the best and she'd be okay. Before she left for the day, she paused to slip on the earrings that had somehow ended up with her belongings but had been Francie's favorite.
Sydney's government-issued car trailed her father's on the ride to work that day. To no great surprise there had been nothing across echelon or any direct contact from her mother, Sark or Sloane. Throughout the day she stayed busy, even falling back on playing solitaire for awhile to ease her nerves. Lunch was eaten in the cafeteria with Dixon, Will, Marshall and Carrie. Carrie was sweet and the more she knew her, the more Sydney began to like her. Her personality was infectious, her little quirks endearing, and it was easy to see how she was a perfect match for the often overwhelmed Marshall.
Will took the opportunity to walk her to the hypno-regression therapy office and wished her luck. Left alone, she twisted the doorknob and walked in, the familiar equipment and the all-too-familiar doctor greeting her. Becky turned at the sound of the doorknob and smiled at Sydney. "Agent Bristow, how are you today?"
"I'd like to get started."
"Certainly." She waved a hand towards the chair. It took all of Sydney's strength not to flinch when Becky helped her put on the necessary materials and get comfortable. Once she was settled the redhead took a seat across from her with a sympathetic smile. "I know you're aware of this, but I feel I should warn you that this could and in your situation will, likely have a negative impact. Nightmares, depression, flashbacks…"
"I'm aware of the consequences Doctor Vaughn," she assured her. "I have to know," she explained as she glanced at the mirror on the wall. Even a civilian would know it was where she assumed her father was looking in from.
In the observation room, Jack and Will stood still as stones as Sydney spoke. Both men looked over as the door clicked open and Michael Vaughn stepped in. "Has she gone under yet?" he asked softly. Awkwardly, he stuffed his hands in his pockets as the other men nodded.
"Agent Vaughn, are you sure being here is a good idea?" Jack asked. For once his tone was not accusing. Perhaps it even bordered on concern.
"I have to be here," he explained. Will conveyed his understanding with a silent nod as the eldest agent relented with a silent sigh.
Through the window they watched Sydney, the electrodes on her forehead and her eyes closed. Becky's soft voice was the only detectable sound, barely louder than their silent breath. "I'm going to count back from three. When I get to one, I want you to tell me where you are," she soothed. Vaughn swallowed back his fears as his wife began. "3… 2… 1…"
"I see myself," she spoke in a low voice. All three men exchanged silent glances before they returned their attention to Sydney. "I'm not in my apartment… I'm still covered in blood. Someone has tied me down to some sort of dentist's chair…"
"Do you recognize where you are?"
"I… I can't see well enough," she conceded. "Maybe a warehouse or a basement… I don't think I've been here before."
"Is anyone with you? Do you see anyone?"
"A man I don't recognize… He's the one tying me down…" she trailed off, but then her nostrils visibly flared.
"Sydney, who is it?"
"Sloane."
The three men shared troubled but not surprised looks of concern.
"What is he doing?"
"He says that he warned me, I should have stayed out of it… That the result of my foolish behavior has forced a slight delay in the plan…" she trailed off as a tear ran down her face.
"Sydney?"
"I ask him to stop… I told him to… I couldn't stop him… I scream, but no one hears me… He doesn't care, he never did… I keep screaming… I just want someone to save me… My father… Vaughn… I know they're all looking for me, but no one's here to stop him."
One tear turned into two, before both eyes welled and a steady stream poured down her skin. Behind the glass Vaughn anxiously swiped the bottom of his nose. Will was outraged as he turned to Jack, "Isn't this enough?" he demanded. Then his blue eyes met Vaughn's. "What the hell is your wife trying to pull in there?"
"Becky's just doing her job," he defended her in an even tone.
Back in the session room the doctor calmly continued her task. "What did Sloane do to you?"
"He shot me."
"With a gun?" she asked. Hastily she flipped through her notes, certain there had been no sign of a bullet wound on Agent Bristow's body.
"An injection," the patient corrected. "He says my condition could jeopardize his project, and he won't let me do that."
"What condition?"
"He says…" she paused to control her tears, as loose strands of hair clung to her red, sweaty face. "He says I was pregnant."
"Did you believe him?"
"Of course I didn't believe him!" she snapped. "He's done nothing but lie to me since the day I met him! He's ruined my life!"
"What happened after he gave you the injection?"
"He left. I wasn't alone… They kept asking me these questions… About Rambaldi, where the CIA kept their artifacts… About what happened to Francie's double…" she trailed off as the tears started to pool again.
"You're safe now Sydney, remember that, no one's going to let him hurt you again," she soothed. "Take a deep breath, remember this is in the past, you're safe now. You're home and you're safe," she gently spoke. "What happened after they asked you the questions."
"I started to bleed," she sniffled.
"Did they hurt you?"
"No," her head shook. "I started to bleed and I knew he hadn't lied… For once in his awful, wasted life he hadn't lied."
"Who hadn't lied Sydney?"
"Sloane," she answered.
The short but powerful session drew to a close. Gently, Becky brought her out of the hypnotic state. The words they shared were too soft for the men to hear as she handed Sydney a box of tissues. The redhead then gently squeezed the brunette's shoulder and disappeared from the room. Seconds later the doctor stepped into the room. "Agent Bristow, Mr. Tippin, you can go see Sydney," she assured them. Will politely trailed Jack out of the room, leaving the couple in the room alone. "I didn't know you'd be here," she said cautiously.
"I just… I needed to be here," he conceded. As she put finishing touches on her notes and signed off on them for the day, he openly watched through the window. Both Will and Jack hugged Sydney, and she seemed to have stopped her tears.
"Michael…" Her small hand appeared on his arm. The slight movement caused him to draw his attention to his wife. "Are you okay?"
"What's going to happen to her now?"
"She has a lot of painful things she needs to get past… There's probably a lot more we have left to discover. But I can't get past it for her, and neither can you Michael."
His green eyes were drawn back to observe the room. The three still remained. Sydney held her father's hand as Will stood on her other side, his arm draped over her shoulder. He couldn't hear what she was saying, and frankly he wasn't sure if he wanted to. The only thing that reassured him in the slightest, was her skin returning to its normal shade and her tears had dried. Eventually he answered his wife, aware of the answer but still despising it. "I know."
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A/N: Please review. Also please a couple people mention my sister in the reviews, that makes her really really happy when I tell her. If you want to read some of Meg's stuff, she's listed in my favorite authors - she's great if your into poetry.
Yeah, if I e-mail you privately and call you a dork, it means I'm nuts about you :) The bigger the dork, the better. My Daddy & Meg are the biggest dorks I know, and the people I love the most :) Go figure.
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: Post "The Telling"; be warned, it picks up immediately where ep leaves off.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Never will. Dream job is a writer on this show, but I'm only seventeen so I'll stick to fanfiction. Don't own anything else recognizable either. The only thing I have control of is Becky, and if you really want her (why would you want her?!) then you can have her.
Dedication: To Meg, who unlike all of you, is forced to live with me :)
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The most vivid memory he had was October 1, 2001. The day he had a broken watch and an instinct. If someone had told him on that day that he'd be married in four years and it *wouldn't* be to the woman across from him with the bozo hair and bloody mouth, he wouldn't have believed them. He'd never been cynical enough to completely disregard the concept of love at first sight, but until then he had thought it was necessary to actually know a person's natural hair color before such things could occur. Sydney Bristow, quick as a whip and just as brutal, had proven him wrong. Even while his head had debated whether or not the woman in front of him was insane, his heart would have none of it.
Four years and ten days later, he walked into the CIA building to begin another full week at work. During the course of the day he felt as though Dixon, Will and Jack were avoiding him. The four of them had formed a bond over the two years since her disappearance. While he wouldn't classify it as a friendship, they easily carried on discussions and were there when he or any one of the others was going through a tough spot. Still, he continued on with his work, relieved when Will approached him at the end of the day to discuss the possibility of going to a Lakers game sometime soon.
On his way towards his car at the conclusion of the day, he was surprised to hear Jack Bristow call his name. Michael made the courtesy and approached the man. "I thought you should be made aware that Kendall plans on bringing Sydney in Wednesday."
"I thought she requested a week, that's only six days."
"Yes, well, this is Kendall, six days is a gift," Jack reminded him as he nodded. "She'll also be seeing your wife on Thursday."
"I know." He brushed the underside of his nose and studied a grease stain on the parking lot wall. "Becky also wants us to go to a joint session."
"Frankly I'm not sure if that's a good idea or not," the older agent conceded. "Sydney has yet to express her opinion on such matters."
Finally he met Jack's gaze, "How is she?"
"She returned from Santa Barbara last night," he explained as the younger man's face creased. "Sydney's a strong woman, she'll come through this."
"Has she . . ."
"No, she hasn't mentioned you," he answered.
"I'd like to be at her hypno-regression sessions," Vaughn confessed. The idea of her going through all of that with just an uninvolved therapist to support her clenched his heart.
"I'm doubting my daughter will agree to that."
"Then you should be there," he corrected. "Someone should be there. Whatever she does or doesn't uncover, she shouldn't go through it alone."
"Yes, I agree," he nodded. "I'll suggest it to her."
"Does she need anything?"
"Today she planned to go through her belongings… Sort through things… I suspect she wants to be alone right now."
Vaughn was silent as he nodded. "I should get going," he realized as he shook hands with the older man.
"Have a good night Agent Vaughn," Jack called as Vaughn waved, got into his car and drove away.
The half a dozen boxes that Will and Dixon had removed from storage for her were mostly familiar. She recognized her handwriting when she'd first moved into the apartment so many years ago. They had removed the more practical items, her clothes and a box of books and music. Since she was currently living in her father's house, there was very little room to put her belongings, but she had managed to make room in the empty closet for her clothes and arrange the music and books in the room as well. Finally she was left with one small purple box. It was barely bigger than a hatbox, and she didn't recall ever owning it. Getting comfortable on the bed, she lifted the slight weight into her lap and pulled off the top.
Whoever had packed it had obviously done so with caution and care. At the top of the box, resting on a pile of purple tissue paper, was a faded ticket stub. Even though the words were difficult to make out, she recognized it. It had been her ticket to the first - and only - Kings game they had gone to see together. After that was cautiously placed to the side, she unfolded the tissue paper. A slight pool of tears swam into her eyes as she cautiously picked up the item. The silver picture frame had been the first gift he'd ever given her, and before her disappearance she'd placed a photo of the two of them in it. They were obviously shivering, but grinning like fools. Weiss had taken the photo outside of the Staples Center as they had anxiously waited for Francie, Will, and Amy Tippin to arrive for the aforementioned Kings game. It was the first photo she had of the two of them, and it only seemed appropriate to put it in the frame.
Underneath the frame, which she hesitantly set to rest on her night table, was a familiar hockey puck. Sydney laughed, suddenly aware of how many hockey-related events they had attended outside of work. He'd given her the puck after she'd seen him play for the first time. At first he'd been embarrassed when he handed her the round, black object he'd used to win the game, but his complexion had quickly cleared when she kissed and thanked him. Next to the puck was the cork from the bottle of wine that they had shared on their first night together. On the side of it she had written the date, 2/6/03 - it had been a Thursday. So recently in her time, yet over two years in real time.
The last items were two packets of pictures that showed the two of them, and a few with Will and Francie as well. Slowly she flipped through them, clearly remembering the story and event behind every snapshot. Their joy had been as obvious as their smitten expressions. Whenever they had been around one another, the wrinkles on his forehead seemed to disappear and her dimples were impossible to hide. The only thing that confused her was that there was only one copy of each photo, no doubles or negatives, and she *always* got doubles.
"Dad?" she tentatively addressed him over dinner. The meal had been eaten in relative silence, and Jack looked up from his plate in surprise. "Will and Dixon… They brought over a purple box… It's obviously important, or else they never would have bothered with it…"
"Yes, Sydney?"
"I was wondering, I know it was a long time ago, but do you remember who packed that box?"
"Yes." He looked down at his food. "I remember it very clearly. Agent Vaughn put that box together, and even insisted on driving it to the storage facility on his own."
"Why didn't he keep it?"
"Whatever was in that box Sydney, Agent Vaughn obviously felt it belonged to you and only you." Sydney nodded as Jack continued, "Do you have sufficient clothing?"
"Dixon and Will were great, I have more then I could wear in a year," she smiled. "I did some shopping in Santa Barbara too, so I'm fine."
"Will you be ready for Wednesday?"
"Kendall wants me back, it's my job," she shrugged. "I'll be fine."
"If it's an issue Sydney, I can arrange for your time to be extended."
"No," her head shook. "I need to do this. The sooner I get past this, the sooner I can move on. I need to move on… I know it won't be easy, but I have to do it."
"You'll do well Sydney. You've undergone hypno-regression therapy before and it's been proven effective."
"I'm concerned," she admitted. "Not that it won't work, I *know* it will work. I'm just worried about what we'll find."
"Have you considered who you will take with you?" Jack cautiously asked. The confusion was obvious on his daughter's face as he carried on. "Don't you think it'd be a wise move to bring someone there to… support you?"
Silently her father was pleased with himself for making a useful suggestion on an issue that she obviously hadn't considered. There was so little Jack could do to assist his daughter, she was more then capable of taking care of herself. While he couldn't imagine being as proud of anyone as he was of Sydney, there were moments when he enjoyed being able to offer her a little direction or comfort. Due to no one's fault but his own, those moments were scarce but still meaningful.
After an extended silence, Sydney finally spoke. "Would you be there?"
"Yes," he nodded. "If you'd like me to be, I will."
"Thank you," she smiled.
The next evening Sydney spent out with Marshall, Carrie and Will. The three went out for pizza - Carrie's latest craving - and caught up. The young couple beamed in one another's presence, and the usually bubbling Marshall wore an uncharacteristic sense of calm in his wife's presence. Over pepperoni and garbage pizza ("It's not actually garbage, it's just a lot of different toppings," Marshall had felt the need to explain) they laughed and made easy conversation. Even though they obviously stuck to neutral, simple topics of conversation for her sake, she was just relieved to have the opportunity to enjoy an evening out with friends. One last hurrah before she was set to report to work the next morning.
No one was more surprised than Sydney, when Will arrived the next morning at the Bristow home for breakfast. More surprising, was that her father's reaction bordered on pleased when he saw the young man. Rose served a delicious breakfast before her friend offered to drive her to work. Jack explained that he would be going into work late and wished his daughter and Will a good day as they departed.
"How are you doing Agent Bristow?" Kendall met her at her desk. It was in the same location that it had always been, although she was certain an agent had to be relocated for her benefit. A quick glance around the room told her that Vaughn had yet to arrive and she made a mental note to avoid him.
"I'm good," she smiled.
"I'd like to talk to you about your mother."
The smile she had recently forced to her face quickly disappeared. "What about her?"
"There are… ways of insuring that the enemy knows what you want them to know. We'd like to make it known that you're back."
"What purpose would that serve?"
"Well Agent Bristow we're hoping that your mother will show a bit of her maternal side and contact us."
"You're assuming my mother *has* a maternal side."
He shrugged and nodded his chin, a habit that had always annoyed her and reminded her of a dead fish. "There is some precedent to believe that she might."
"What does my father say about this?"
"I haven't mentioned it to him yet."
"I think you should," she calmly suggested.
"Agent Bristow, I am going to use your return to help us track down your mother. I just wanted you to know that, so you need to expect possible contact."
"For all we know my mother could have had something to do with my disappearance!"
"Well that's just a risk we have to take. This is just a courtesy Agent Bristow, I'm not asking for your permission," he reminded her. Then he turned and left her speechless at her desk.
The careful science of avoiding Vaughn was more delicate then she'd assumed. There was plenty of work to keep her busy. Piles of paperwork still needed to be filled out, reviewed and then signed. She'd also made a request to read all the files that the CIA had on her disappearance. As a former literature major, Sydney could read faster than most people, but the three massive folders even gave her, cause to be slightly intimidated.
At the beginning of the day she'd made a choice to fill out the necessary paperwork before she read what she'd requested. Whatever information she could give the CIA, and whatever she signed off on, she wanted it to be based on what *she* remembered. If she read what they had sent her, it was inevitable that her memories would be slightly tainted by the stories of others. Once she'd finished a stale egg salad sandwich in the cafeteria with Will, Weiss, Carrie and Marshall she got focused on her reading.
Every investigative form was signed off on either by Jack, Vaughn or Eric's hand. Nearly every analytical report had been completed by Will, even though they didn't start until nearly two weeks after her disappearance. Given the state he'd been in when she'd last seen him at the apartment, she could only assume that he'd completed his work from his hospital bed. The first folder was dedicated to only the first ten days she'd been gone. After that, the information crept in slower, and they covered the next nearly twenty-four months in two folders. The photos were disturbing. Images of bloodstains and the body of Francie's double. Eventually she even came across a grotesque photo of the decomposing body of the real Francie. There was even a copy of the autopsy report, that stated Francie had died in late January 2003 from a close-range bullet to the brain - she'd died instantly.
Pages and pages were dedicated to their 'investigation' of Vaughn. The questions ranged from work related to personal. The disciplinary committee eventually let him off the hook with a temporary downgrade of his security clearance. They had determined that whatever 'inappropriate' relationship they might have shared, it wasn't until *after* she was no longer his asset. Plus, their relationship had not negatively affected the quality of their work or interfered with those around them. It was her father's signature at the bottom of the page that freed Vaughn of any suspicion.
"Kendall's an ass," Jack assured her at the end of the day. Will had to stay late to work on a report, so Jack had suggested they ride back to the house together.
"I see he told you about his plan to try to draw mom in."
"Your mother will see through this sham. I doubt she'll contact you, if she hasn't already had you in her care for the last two years," Jack shot as the driver helped him into the car.
"I don't appreciate his desire to use me as a pawn," she agreed and snapped her seatbelt into place. "I'm going to go home directly after my session tomorrow."
"I'll take care of Kendall."
"Dad," she sighed and looked out the dark-tinted windows. "I don't think he's going to be held back on this."
"Sydney you must remember that Director Kendall is my superior on paper only."
A smile crossed her face at her father's insinuation. Even in his physical state, she had no doubt that he could still kill a man with a well-placed finger. He was still intimidating, and she swore she still saw agents take extra precautions to avoid walking in his path. "Marshall and Carrie are going to give the baby Sydney as a middle name," she grinned.
That even forced a smile onto his stony features. A small smile, but still a smile. "Virginia Sydney Flinkman… It certainly is an interesting name."
She smiled and nodded. In the back of her mind she imagined what could have happened if she'd had a child with Vaughn, or what might have happened if she *remembered*. Sydney had always been fond of the name Megan …
"Sydney?" Her daydreams puffed away at her father's voice. "Sydney, have you given any thought to what would happen if your mother did choose to make contact? Whether you want to or not you'll end up back in the field for at least a short amount of time."
"It's going to take time before she even hears that I'm back, if she ever finds out. If she does, it'll be to trade me for Sark," she sighed.
"Sydney, did you believe that Sark was still in our custody?" Jack was truly baffled as his daughter met his eyes.
"You said he was transferred to Camp Harris after he stonewalled."
"You didn't believe he actually *remained* there, did you?" He looked mildly amused. "He escaped almost a year ago, shortly after his transfer to the camp."
"That bastard," she muttered with a glare out the window.
After an extended silence he spoke, "Sydney?"
Her head nodded and looked over at him. "I'm going to be fine."
"There's always evidence Sydney, we just need to find it."
Sydney hated Thursdays. The only purpose they served was for 'Friends', a television show that had ended its long run the previous television season. Now she didn't even have that to look forward to on that horrible day. The only bright spot was her father's promise that Kendall would give her no difficulty when she left after her hypno-regression therapy.
That morning she had gone through the motions. Brush teeth, shower, brush hair and change. While she applied her makeup in the natural early morning light, she was struck by the desire to call Francie. Her best friend had randomly appeared in her mind and she closed her eyes. This time there were no tears, just a sad throbbing in her heart. Francie would put an optimistic spin on things, convince her that everything would turn out for the best and she'd be okay. Before she left for the day, she paused to slip on the earrings that had somehow ended up with her belongings but had been Francie's favorite.
Sydney's government-issued car trailed her father's on the ride to work that day. To no great surprise there had been nothing across echelon or any direct contact from her mother, Sark or Sloane. Throughout the day she stayed busy, even falling back on playing solitaire for awhile to ease her nerves. Lunch was eaten in the cafeteria with Dixon, Will, Marshall and Carrie. Carrie was sweet and the more she knew her, the more Sydney began to like her. Her personality was infectious, her little quirks endearing, and it was easy to see how she was a perfect match for the often overwhelmed Marshall.
Will took the opportunity to walk her to the hypno-regression therapy office and wished her luck. Left alone, she twisted the doorknob and walked in, the familiar equipment and the all-too-familiar doctor greeting her. Becky turned at the sound of the doorknob and smiled at Sydney. "Agent Bristow, how are you today?"
"I'd like to get started."
"Certainly." She waved a hand towards the chair. It took all of Sydney's strength not to flinch when Becky helped her put on the necessary materials and get comfortable. Once she was settled the redhead took a seat across from her with a sympathetic smile. "I know you're aware of this, but I feel I should warn you that this could and in your situation will, likely have a negative impact. Nightmares, depression, flashbacks…"
"I'm aware of the consequences Doctor Vaughn," she assured her. "I have to know," she explained as she glanced at the mirror on the wall. Even a civilian would know it was where she assumed her father was looking in from.
In the observation room, Jack and Will stood still as stones as Sydney spoke. Both men looked over as the door clicked open and Michael Vaughn stepped in. "Has she gone under yet?" he asked softly. Awkwardly, he stuffed his hands in his pockets as the other men nodded.
"Agent Vaughn, are you sure being here is a good idea?" Jack asked. For once his tone was not accusing. Perhaps it even bordered on concern.
"I have to be here," he explained. Will conveyed his understanding with a silent nod as the eldest agent relented with a silent sigh.
Through the window they watched Sydney, the electrodes on her forehead and her eyes closed. Becky's soft voice was the only detectable sound, barely louder than their silent breath. "I'm going to count back from three. When I get to one, I want you to tell me where you are," she soothed. Vaughn swallowed back his fears as his wife began. "3… 2… 1…"
"I see myself," she spoke in a low voice. All three men exchanged silent glances before they returned their attention to Sydney. "I'm not in my apartment… I'm still covered in blood. Someone has tied me down to some sort of dentist's chair…"
"Do you recognize where you are?"
"I… I can't see well enough," she conceded. "Maybe a warehouse or a basement… I don't think I've been here before."
"Is anyone with you? Do you see anyone?"
"A man I don't recognize… He's the one tying me down…" she trailed off, but then her nostrils visibly flared.
"Sydney, who is it?"
"Sloane."
The three men shared troubled but not surprised looks of concern.
"What is he doing?"
"He says that he warned me, I should have stayed out of it… That the result of my foolish behavior has forced a slight delay in the plan…" she trailed off as a tear ran down her face.
"Sydney?"
"I ask him to stop… I told him to… I couldn't stop him… I scream, but no one hears me… He doesn't care, he never did… I keep screaming… I just want someone to save me… My father… Vaughn… I know they're all looking for me, but no one's here to stop him."
One tear turned into two, before both eyes welled and a steady stream poured down her skin. Behind the glass Vaughn anxiously swiped the bottom of his nose. Will was outraged as he turned to Jack, "Isn't this enough?" he demanded. Then his blue eyes met Vaughn's. "What the hell is your wife trying to pull in there?"
"Becky's just doing her job," he defended her in an even tone.
Back in the session room the doctor calmly continued her task. "What did Sloane do to you?"
"He shot me."
"With a gun?" she asked. Hastily she flipped through her notes, certain there had been no sign of a bullet wound on Agent Bristow's body.
"An injection," the patient corrected. "He says my condition could jeopardize his project, and he won't let me do that."
"What condition?"
"He says…" she paused to control her tears, as loose strands of hair clung to her red, sweaty face. "He says I was pregnant."
"Did you believe him?"
"Of course I didn't believe him!" she snapped. "He's done nothing but lie to me since the day I met him! He's ruined my life!"
"What happened after he gave you the injection?"
"He left. I wasn't alone… They kept asking me these questions… About Rambaldi, where the CIA kept their artifacts… About what happened to Francie's double…" she trailed off as the tears started to pool again.
"You're safe now Sydney, remember that, no one's going to let him hurt you again," she soothed. "Take a deep breath, remember this is in the past, you're safe now. You're home and you're safe," she gently spoke. "What happened after they asked you the questions."
"I started to bleed," she sniffled.
"Did they hurt you?"
"No," her head shook. "I started to bleed and I knew he hadn't lied… For once in his awful, wasted life he hadn't lied."
"Who hadn't lied Sydney?"
"Sloane," she answered.
The short but powerful session drew to a close. Gently, Becky brought her out of the hypnotic state. The words they shared were too soft for the men to hear as she handed Sydney a box of tissues. The redhead then gently squeezed the brunette's shoulder and disappeared from the room. Seconds later the doctor stepped into the room. "Agent Bristow, Mr. Tippin, you can go see Sydney," she assured them. Will politely trailed Jack out of the room, leaving the couple in the room alone. "I didn't know you'd be here," she said cautiously.
"I just… I needed to be here," he conceded. As she put finishing touches on her notes and signed off on them for the day, he openly watched through the window. Both Will and Jack hugged Sydney, and she seemed to have stopped her tears.
"Michael…" Her small hand appeared on his arm. The slight movement caused him to draw his attention to his wife. "Are you okay?"
"What's going to happen to her now?"
"She has a lot of painful things she needs to get past… There's probably a lot more we have left to discover. But I can't get past it for her, and neither can you Michael."
His green eyes were drawn back to observe the room. The three still remained. Sydney held her father's hand as Will stood on her other side, his arm draped over her shoulder. He couldn't hear what she was saying, and frankly he wasn't sure if he wanted to. The only thing that reassured him in the slightest, was her skin returning to its normal shade and her tears had dried. Eventually he answered his wife, aware of the answer but still despising it. "I know."
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A/N: Please review. Also please a couple people mention my sister in the reviews, that makes her really really happy when I tell her. If you want to read some of Meg's stuff, she's listed in my favorite authors - she's great if your into poetry.
Yeah, if I e-mail you privately and call you a dork, it means I'm nuts about you :) The bigger the dork, the better. My Daddy & Meg are the biggest dorks I know, and the people I love the most :) Go figure.
