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: For Orianna & Linda.
A/N: One reviewer said perhaps Becky should have been more opinionated. Perhaps, but in a lot of ways Becky is me and frankly I keep my opinions to myself, even if they hurt. I feel bad telling people they've hurt me, even when they have.
Oh, Whitelighter Enchantress, if you knew how many newspaper articles I have saved from UConn, you'd really be disgusted. My Mother says my room's a fire hazard - probably is :) I keep almost everything, win or lose. I still have the cover of the CT Post from when the guys won teh national championship in '99 although it's torn in two now :(
Oh, yeah. I found my bracket (apparently I just THOUGHT I'd tossed it) and I had Kentucky winning it all. Go figure. Who really thought Syracuse would win? I mean I'm happy they did, but really . . .
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It was the click of the gates opening that woke Irina Derevko the next morning. Slowly she stretched to her full height, approaching the glass as her daughter appeared before her. With the eye of a mother, Irina noted that Sydney looked tired, but less weighed down by the world. A smile stretched across Irina's face as she took in her daughter. Something had obviously turned Sydney's way for once. Perhaps it was something small, but it had lifted a part of the burden she'd been carrying since she had reappeared.
"Sydney."
"I believe that Sloane held me in Rome for a period of time. Do you know where Sloane's operations in Rome were located?"
"There's an American university in Rome, John Cabot University. While I never met him, Arvin claimed he had a contact there, a man who was married to someone Emily knew when she worked at the state department. I don't recall him ever mentioning a name, but he did say that there was a secluded villa in I Castelli Romani that he could use. He never told me anything more than that."
"No locations? No names?" she demanded as Irina shook her head. "Thank you," she said as she copied down the information her mother had given her.
"How are you Sydney?"
After a moment she looked back up at her mother. "I've been fine."
"Your father?"
"Dad's fine too," she was quick to assure.
Irina nodded. "Good." With her lips pressed together Irina's eyes brushed up and down her daughter's form before arriving back at her eyes. "You don't look as troubled. Finding your memories must make this a bit easier."
"I've been doing my best."
"Your father must be a great support to you. Surely your friends."
"Yes," she hesitantly agreed. "They've been helpful."
"And Agent Vaughn?"
"What about Agent Vaughn?" she calculated her reply, mindful to keep her tone neutral. The last thing she wanted to give her mother was a loose string to tug at.
"Certainly he must be very helpful in your recovery process, in helping you readjust to your life," Irina suggested. Sydney studied her mother and wondered if she was being purposely cruel or was sincerely unaware of the decisions Vaughn had made in her absence.
"Agent Vaughn is my colleague. We're working together to find Sloane, to try to understand where I was kept and why. So yes, in that regard he's been very helpful."
Across the glass her mother seemed to silently understand her explanation. For a moment she looked down at her feet, playing with her hands and then looked back at her daughter. "I'm not much of an art connoisseur Sydney, but I've always loved Van Gogh. From the moment I saw 'Starry Night' for the first moment... I just fell in love with his work. The simplicity and the details... The way he uses the colors... He was an interesting man, as I suppose all artists are. He was an artistic genius, ahead of his time. Much more fascinating than any Rambaldi puzzle," she explained. "I was considering your father, you and Agent Vaughn and Van Gogh came to mind. He's credited with saying 'love is eternal. The aspect of it may change, but the essence remains the same'. I've struggled to understand that my whole life. I believe he's right, no matter how painful it may be. It might be something you'd like to consider."
"I'm really not much of an art fan," Sydney spoke solidly. Irina watched her chin slightly waver as her daughter looked away. "Thank you," came moments later, her voice softer and obviously more vulnerable. "I'm sure the CIA will be eager to evaluate any leads you can offer us."
"Take care of yourself Sydney."
"I will," she promised and disappeared through the gates.
At the same time that she was leaving the cell area, Michael Vaughn was sinking down into his work chair with a tired sigh. Agents were just crawling in to start their day, and the area around the coffee machine was more crowded than the work area. The day ahead of him seemed unusually long as he anticipated the struggle to make it halfway through the week. The leads on Sloane were now numerous - Rome was a large city, and until the debrief later in the morning, he would be uncertain of what Intel Irina Derevko could offer them. As he booted up the computer and struggled to stay awake, he wondered if he'd even be conscious at the debrief.
Truthfully, he had missed Becky that morning, missed her in ways he hadn't expected. He longed to see the oatmeal socks patter across the floor; missed how she sang in the morning, as if her off-key voice would make 6am seem a little bit easier to cope with. There was no one at the counter literally measuring out the size of their bowl of Cheerios, no one to mumble that he'd used most of the hot water, no one sitting across the table from him to read off the newspaper's five day forecast. The television hadn't been flipped on when he emerged from the shower, and the half of the bed next to his had remained made throughout the night.
The night had been unexpectedly difficult as well. He'd forgotten how cold a bed could be without two humans now that it was just a human and a lazy dog. Donovan was overjoyed to have his half of the bed back, oblivious to how his master tossed and turned throughout the night. Becky would talk in her sleep - she'd sing in her sleep too. Every night before she finally fell asleep, he'd hear a tiny crack as she stretched the joints in her ankles, followed by a contented sigh as she cuddled up next to the pillow. He missed the sound of her steady breathing on the pillow next to his. He'd even awoken at exactly 2:08 in the morning, expecting to feel the bed dip, as she'd roll out to quickly use the bathroom. Always two - oh - eight in the morning, from the first night they'd spent together to the last. Consistent, reliable, comfortable. Becky.
"You look like you're thinking too hard for eight in the morning," Eric Weiss declared as he leaned up against his friend's desk. "Coffee?" he held out another mug.
"Yeah, thanks," Vaughn forced a half smile and took a sip of the coffee, assured to feel it burn down his throat.
"What's wrong?"
Vaughn took another sip then looked at his friend. Under his breath he answered, "Becky moved out yesterday."
"That's why you're upset?" Eric struggled not to laugh. "That's the best news I've heard since Sydney came back!"
"She's my wife."
"That's where you're wrong my friend. It sounds to me like she's your soon-to-be ex-wife!" he joyously pointed out, only to be met by a sharp glance. "Sorry, forgot you liked her." He uncomfortably looked away. A second and a sip of coffee later, Eric looked back at Michael. "So, what's going on? Have you told Sydney yet?"
"I'm not even sure she'd care."
"Are you out of your mind?" Weiss laughed and struggled to keep from gaining more of an audience in the ops center.
"For all I know she could be interested in Will. They have been spending a lot of time together."
Another laugh and a slap on the back, "I think it's well established that Sydney does not like Will in that way."
"She just left yesterday."
"Your point? You went right from Alice to Sydney and you clung to Becky when you met her. Face it, you just don't like to be alone. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame you, I don't either, but you *really* hate it."
"I'm perfectly capable of being on my own."
"Then prove it," he suggested. "Or you know what, better yet, take off the damn wedding band, find Sydney and kiss her senseless. I swear Vaughn, I love you like a brother and I think Sydney's great, but the two of you really are going to drive me insane," he concluded, giving his pal another gentle slap on the back and returning to his own work area.
Vaughn contemplated his friend's words for a moment and studied the gold band on his left hand. Leaving it untouched, he sighed and went back to his own seemingly endless pile of work. Halfway through a stack of Will's analysis reports, he caught Sydney walking in out of the corner of his eye. She paused to share a short but animated conversation with Weiss before she slid into her own desk, either not seeing or ignoring him.
They were unable to exchange anything other than a soft 'hey' later as he held the door of the conference room open for her. Jack and Kendall were already discussing the briefing as Sydney slid into her chair and the rest of the group took theirs. When the doors shut, Jack slid the wheelchair closer to the table as Kendall began the debrief.
"Thanks to Irina Derevko we now have a better idea of where exactly in Rome Arvin Sloane was keeping Sydney. Apparently through his wife Emily, he had contacts at John Cabot University. There was also a villa in I Castelli Romani that he had at his disposal."
"So what do we do now?" Dixon asked.
Jack looked at the small group. "Now we search through the faculty to try to pinpoint who Sloane's contact was."
"That can't be that difficult. How many professors in Rome had spouses who worked at the American State Department?" Will pointed out.
"Unfortunately more than we'd expected," Kendall answered. "We are looking back over the past few decades to try to find this guy. For all we know he hasn't been employed by the university for years. People, we're still searching for a needle in a haystack, just a slightly smaller pile. I'm hopeful that perhaps we can send a team to Rome as early as Friday. At the latest, next week."
"Is it possible your mother's holding something back?" Dixon carefully suggested, glancing at his former partner in concern.
"Why? She has nothing to gain. Everything we've been able to uncover has indicated that she's spent the last two years looking for me," Sydney pointed out.
"It's not safe to assume anything with that woman," Jack stiffly reminded them.
"We're taking all of her information at face value, but right now it's the best lead we've got," Kendall reasoned. "Marshall, I expect you to start manufacturing a device that will allow our teams to get past whatever security systems might be found in an Italian villa."
"I'm on it sir," he sputtered out all in one breath.
"Maybe we'll get lucky. There is, of course, the possibility that Sloane does something before we pinpoint who his contact is."
"Has something come across echelon to indicate that he's working on something?" Vaughn questioned.
"Nothing. But Arvin Sloane isn't a man who leaves much of a trace," the FBI director reminded all of them. "Does anyone have anything to add?" He looked around to find no response. "I think we're done here then," he said as the group started to disband. "Agent Bristow?" he called as Sydney halted. Vaughn glanced at her for a moment before he followed Dixon out of the room.
"Your visit with your mother went well?" Kendall asked once they were alone. Silently she nodded. "When we organize a team to send to Rome, it'll be your decision whether or not you care to be a part of that team."
"Thank you," Sydney smiled gratefully and left the conference room.
Jack was called in to consult on an unrelated case that evening, leaving her no other option than to have dinner with Will at the restaurant. Time and circumstances had kept her from approaching Vaughn that day, along with the thin band that he still wore around his finger. She'd left work early to go sign some more papers for the real estate agent. The deal was moving along at record speed, and she wondered again if her father had pulled a few strings. Any assistance Jack Bristow wanted to offer would be graciously accepted. In another few weeks she'd be out on her own, although she knew that her father would silently grieve the space that she was currently taking up.
"She really asked about Vaughn?" Will's eyes were wide as they ate dinner at the restaurant. The customers were sparse, just the regulars, most of whom Will knew by name. After a chaotic day at the office, and far more Los Angeles traffic than she'd anticipated, the quiet was a welcome relief for Sydney.
"She was just looking for a way in," Sydney dismissed.
Across from her, her faithful friend nodded. "Are you going to go to Rome?"
"Probably," she sighed. "I don't imagine my father will be pleased with my decision, but he did give me the discretion so that it was my decision."
"This really is like finding a needle in a haystack Syd. Kendall wasn't kidding. The list of possible suspects is massive - we're going back as far as the late seventies. We're going to find it though."
"I hate this, I feel like my entire life is on hold again because of this man. He really is the Devil."
When Sydney looked over at Will, awaiting a response, his gaze was no where in her vaccinity. Curiously she traced his view of sight to the door, where an unassuming petite blonde had just entered. "Is that Stephanie?" she whispered eagerly.
"No," Will shook his head, still not looking at her. "I'll be right back," he smiled quickly at her. Sydney's smile grew as she leaned back and tried to discreetly watch her friend in action. Will rubbed his hands together as he sat down next to the blonde. It had been years since he'd really used a pick up line, and from the look of disdain she'd sent him, one might not have worked too successfully anyway. "Hi, I'm Will Tippin. I own this restaurant."
Instantly her skin burned as she shook his hand. "I'm Elise D'Elia. I'm sorry, have I done something wrong? This is my first time here -"
"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. I guess I just wanted to introduce myself. I know most of the people here on a Tuesday night - it's a bit unusual to get a newcomer."
"I just moved here," she explained.
"For work?" he asked pleasantly as she nodded. "Are you an actress?"
"No, I'm a writer."
"Really?" his eyes widened. "I'm a writer too. I mean, I *was* a writer, a journalist. I write still, for a travel magazine."
"That must be nice, you get to travel a lot," Elise commented as the waitress brought her what she'd ordered. "I'm sorry, I ordered out. I have to get back to my place."
"Oh. You have a boyfriend?" He asked regretfully.
"No, just a novel full of characters who finally showed me how to end the book," she laughed. Will's grin grew as they both stood. "From what everyone's told me, this is a really great place. It was nice to meet you," she explained as she shook his hand again.
"Thanks. Hey, since you're new in the area, if you need a tour, just give me a call. I'm in the phone book."
"Okay," she smiled. "I'm going now," she explained as his gaze followed her out the door.
A moment later Will returned, glassy eyed with red cheeks, to the table. "Stephanie?"
"What?" Will shook his head after a moment. "No. That's Elise D'Elia. She's a writer, new to the area."
"What happened to Stephanie?"
"Nothing happened to Stephanie. Elise just caught my eye. I'd never seen her before... Thought I'd introduce myself."
Sydney laughed, "I haven't seen you this flustered since college! You must really like her!"
"She seemed nice," he shrugged. For a moment she watched him grow distant. Images of Francie arrived on his mind, as he remembered the good times and the bad, and how nice it had been to be honest with her about his work. Thinking back on it, he struggled not to feel as though he'd been played for a fool.
"If you really like her, you could look her up in the phone book."
"What about Stephanie?"
"Two dates Will. If things aren't going to work out, isn't it better to know now than a year from now?"
"You're right," he sighed and took a swig of his beer.
"Take your time Will, there's no time limit," Sydney softly reminded him. "On the bright side, her cheeks were redder than yours. I think she liked you too."
"One day at a time Syd," he reminded her. "I thought we were talking about you, not me."
"You're more interesting," she shrugged.
"Did you avoid him today on purpose or by chance?" Will asked, slowly peeling the label off the sweating amber bottle.
"Will," Sydney sighed.
"I'm not trying to be nosey Syd. I'm just worried about you."
"I'm okay," she promised. "For the record though, it wasn't on purpose."
"Does he know that? When I saw him in the parking garage he looked like he'd lost his best friend."
"Will," she leaned across the table, "Vaughn's wife just left him, I don't imagine this is a very easy time for him."
"I love so many things about you Syd," he sat back and sighed. "So many things, but one of the things I love best is how you can always make something better. Even when you're the origin of the problem, you can always make me feel better. Really, it works on a lot of people. Maybe that's one of your qualities that Vaughn could really use right now."
"I don't know what to do," she confessed. "What do I do?"
"You're asking the wrong guy Syd. I'm not exactly an expert at relationships. I usually ask you, remember?" he smiled ruefully.
"I thought I'd be angry," she sighed. "At first I was so angry. Now I just feel... sad. I'd rather be angry, it doesn't hurt as much."
"I'm not sure anger gets you anywhere. You shouldn't be angry Syd, he didn't do it to hurt you."
"He did hurt me though, doesn't that matter?"
"Yes, but think about Vaughn. These past few years have been hell for him. You are my best friend, and he's one of my good friends. I just want you both to be happy."
"I'm not even sure what I want," she sighed and took a sip of her wine.
Will raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Yeah right Syd. You've always known what you wanted from the day I met you."
"Things are different now."
"I don't think as much has changed as you think it has," he reasoned. To her skeptical _expression he continued, "Yeah, maybe the shades have changed, but the colors are still the same. For what it's worth, you've been with him every day for the past two years, whether even he realizes it," Will sighed. "You've been through so much already Syd, you can't let this break you."
"I guess I just wonder when enough is enough," she sighed and sipped her wine.
"I don't," he answered quickly. Sydney looked up at him as he clarified, "I know you Syd, you're going to keep getting up, dusting yourself off and working until you reach your goal."
"At what cost?"
"He might be the Devil Syd, but no one lives forever, not even Sloane."
"That's what I'm hoping," she muttered. "I should have just quit the CIA when I graduated. This wouldn't even be an issue."
"You couldn't have done it then and you won't do it now. You won't quit until you've got him."
"Before, he was always five steps ahead of me; now he's got two years."
"You're getting depressed Syd."
"Just for the night," she sighed. "I'll be fine by the morning."
Will sighed and stretched to his feet. "C'mon, let's go, you need to go home. Take a bath, read a book, sleep. Something to take your mind off of everything." He gestured for her to stand.
"A bath sounds nice," she sighed as his arm rested around her shoulder in a friendly gesture.
"It's going to be okay," he murmured against her head.
"Yeah," she rested her weight against his as he led her to the car. "I know."
Jack allowed his daughter some peace and quiet when she returned home that evening. The tea was warm and sweet, waiting for her in her bedroom when she emerged from her prolonged soak. When she returned the mug to the kitchen, all of the house lights were out, and judging by the lack of light from under her father's bedroom door, he was sound asleep. She padded barefoot through the quiet house before she slid into her bed and fell fast asleep.
The sun peaked through her curtains waking her Wednesday morning. Quickly getting out of bed she dressed, determined to make it through the day. After all she'd endured, it was no longer about making it through the week or the month or until they got their next decent lead on Sloane. Instead, she was content just to make it through one day at a time. The tiny victories were seemingly all she had left. With a forceful push, the depressing thoughts temporarily left her as she joined her father for a quick breakfast.
The night before her sleep had been anything but peaceful. While the dreams that plagued her were less nightmarish memories and more bizarre concoctions of her own subconscious, they still woke her. It had been Carrie who had suggested she keep a pen and paper by her bed at night, to jot down whatever she remembered or anything that popped into her mind at the most peculiar of times. Still, nothing came to her of any use, just bizarre images and weird scenarios mixed in from images she'd seen on television and in the newspapers since her return.
"You look like you need more than this," Dixon sighed as he handed her a cup of coffee. "You okay Syd?"
Smiling, she pushed hair behind her ear. "Yes. I'm fine."
"Sarah wanted to know if you'd be interested in coming over for Thanksgiving. Jack and Will are invited too, of course."
"Aren't you going to have a full house?"
"I've really missed you Syd, it would mean a lot to me if you decided to come."
"I'm hoping to take that weekend and move into my condo, if everything goes through," she explained. "But I'd love to come over."
"Great," he smiled. "I'll tell Sarah tonight."
"She's great Dixon," Sydney complimented. "I'm sure Diane really would have liked her."
After a moment the older man nodded, "I hope so."
"She seems great with the kids too."
"She is," he confirmed. "She's not their mom, and they know it, but she's a good stepmother. She loves them Syd, even if they don't always see it that way."
"They probably wouldn't always see it that way right now anyway - it's their age, not her," Sydney smiled. Dixon nodded and looked away. "What is it?" Sydney asked.
Finally he looked up at his former partner. "Sarah wanted to invite Vaughn. It's her idea, to have everybody over - Marshall and Carrie are invited but they're going to his mother's. I told Sarah I'd talk to you about it first. It would mean a lot to me if you were there Syd, and if you'd prefer I didn't invite him, I won't."
Sydney smiled at his loyalty. "Thank you for asking. It's your Thanksgiving though, I don't want you to feel that you need to disclude someone because of my involvement."
"Only if you're sure Syd, I don't want to make it uncomfortable for you -"
"Don't worry about me," she insisted. "I'm going to be fine."
"You don't always have to be strong. If you need something, don't hesitate to ask."
"I'm going to need someone to help move boxes. Think you could help there?"
"Sure," he agreed. Judging by his smile, he was slightly reassured that he could help her with something.
"Thank you," she smiled.
"Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about Syd?"
"I'm fine," Sydney assured him.
Dixon nodded, although obviously unsatisfied with her answer, and stood. "I'll let you get back to work." She smiled and nodded as he returned to his own work area.
They all met in the conference room early that afternoon. Kendall anxiously paced the front of the room, stewing in his own thoughts when Jack Bristow wheeled himself in, the last of the group to appear. By then Sydney was meeting Dixon's and Will's confused eyes as Marshall twitched nervously in his seat, only calmed when his wife silently reached out to place her hand over his. Jack wheeled up to the front of the room, got comfortable and silently turned to Kendall to start the meeting.
"We've narrowed the list down to two hundred and thirteen possible employees. We're hoping to have a match by Monday."
"That's almost a week from now," Sydney spoke up.
"Yes, I'm aware of how far from now that is Agent Bristow, but it's the best we can do. I don't want to waste CIA resources on a wild goose chase, not until I can fully defend my actions to my superiors. If you want things to move any quicker, perhaps you can press your mother."
"She said that she told us everything she knows."
"Would it really hurt to talk to her again?" Kendall pointed out. "It's not an order Agent Bristow, but if you're displeased with the way things are going, that would be my suggestion."
An hour later she strode confidently through the gates. Irina sprang to her feet, a half smile on her face as she silently greeted her daughter. "Have you had any success in tracking Arvin?"
"No," Sydney sighed. "Is there anything you've remembered? Anything you haven't told CIA?"
"I'm sorry, I don't have anything else to offer you," Irina sighed. "Be careful Sydney. Even if the CIA can determine who Arvin's contact is, he's highly unlikely to talk to you. All of Arvin's contacts share his beliefs, especially about the U.S. Government. The CIA might not have much success in locating him and especially in communicating with him."
"You believe he'd talk to you."
"It's possible, if you can locate the contact, that he'd talk to me. Very few people are aware that I ever broke off my ties with Arvin. Obviously the CIA's objective is to locate the villa and confirm your suspicions, but if you can locate the contact, it might be beneficial to try to communicate with him."
"Kendall's not likely to let you talk to anyone, not after what you did last time."
"That was two years ago Sydney, and the circumstances are vastly different."
"They're not that different," she sternly corrected.
"I want to help you Sydney."
Despite all of her that desperately wanted to believe, her voice coolly replied, "That's what you claimed before. The CIA doesn't take well to being duped."
Irina's face softened as she met her daughter's eyes. "If you have to, use my presence. Certainly the CIA having me in custody could work as some bargaining chip in your favor."
"I'm sure Kendall will take that into consideration," she spoke neutrally.
"Thank you Sydney."
Cautiously she studied the woman who was her mother, before she nodded and left the cell area.
Over the next few days Sydney established a comfortable, if not predictable routine. Shower, brush hair and teeth, dress, breakfast with her father, work. After work she began to slip away to the gym, eager to sharpen her skills. Not only was she enhancing skills that would serve her well, it allowed her to vent her frustrations. By Friday, she knew it had been a week since Becky had decided to leave him. Half a dozen conversations had passed between them, all brief and professional. The thing that hung over her most of all, was the slice of gold that remained on his finger.
Friday night she had dinner with the Dixons, playing Scrabble with the kids and offering her services to Sarah in the kitchen. That evening the restaurant was in the young manager's hands. Will had anxiously explained the previous evening that he was meeting Elise to see a New York Times Best-selling author make a stop at a local bookstore. When she last saw him at work Friday afternoon, Marshall was stuttering over dating advice and she had smiled at both of them before she walking away to laugh.
Sydney spent the majority of the weekend at the gym, relieved to have finally found an appropriate outlet for her frustrations. She'd attacked the bag with a new vigor, and felt alive as the perspiration trickled down her skin. There was no better feeling than sliding the damp Lycra off of her skin, of knowing she'd accomplished something that day, even if it was just beating the crap out of a punching bag. She assured herself that at least it was beating the crap out of *something*, and she took pains to imagine Sloane's face as she delivered her strongest blows.
"Jesus Syd, you should be more careful!" Will exclaimed as he handed her a cup of coffee Monday morning. They stood in the rotunda of the CIA as he reached for her hand. Across the knuckles of her right hand was a dull bruise, one that would only darken in the days to come.
"I'm fine," she insisted as she took her hand back.
"Ouch, what did you do, break a window?" Weiss approached the duo, sipping his coffee as he eyed Sydney's hand.
"I spent the weekend at the gym. Something the two of you should consider," she playfully suggested.
"Nah," Will shook his head. "When I started this job I just caved in to the idea of being constantly overwhelmed and fat."
"You're not fat," she chuckled and rolled her eyes. Growing sober she looked at Weiss and asked, "Are you here for the debrief?"
"Yeah. In his infinite wisdom, Kendall decided my presence was suddenly mandatory."
"Nice to know the CIA doesn't hire just on personality, isn't it?" Will joked. The two men laughed, unaware that Sydney's laughter had died down. Across the room she caught him out of the corner of her eye as he walked towards the conference room, once again either unaware or unwilling to look in her direction. Neither was aware that the other watched them whenever they could. If he thought for half a moment he could study her undetected, he greedily took the opportunity, unaware that she did the same.
"I hate to say this, but we should probably head in there," Weiss motioned towards the conference room. The two men continued their light conversation as she walked with them into the room, silently taking her seat near Vaughn as she waited for Kendall to reappear.
"Good news ladies and gentleman," Kendall declared as he swaggered into the room. "We have made contact with Arvin Sloane's contact, a former John Cabot Professor by the name of Nikolai Young. His late wife, Barbara, worked at the State Department during Emily Sloane's tenure there. The Youngs and the Sloanes apparently used to vacation together."
Jack, who had entered the room seconds before the other director, added, "There's only one hitch."
"What?" Dixon asked.
"Unfortunately we are making no leeway with Mr. Young, and apparently with the exception of knowing Arvin Sloane, he has no traceable criminal history. Obviously, we had no leverage over him. Irina Derevko however..." Kendall trailed off and looked at Jack expectantly.
"You had to use my mother to make contact," Sydney filled in the blanks. "What could she possibly have on him that we don't?"
"Nothing, but he knows her. Young was apparently taken with your mother when he met her, and now that his wife is gone he's eager to . . . Make progress in their relationship," Jack explained, an undercurrent of amusement obvious on his features.
"We've pinpointed the location of Young's villa. He's currently staying there, so while your mother is meeting him in Rome, you'll lead a team into the villa," Kendall explained as he slid a folder in Sydney's direction. "Jack will be on point for your mother's op. Agent Dixon, Agent Vaughn, you'll be accompanying Agent Bristow and the forensics team into the villa. Agent Weiss, you'll be the point guy on this."
Sydney looked down Young's dossier as the words 'point guy' ran rampant through her mind. Ever so briefly she damned her flawless memory and damned every little thing around her for reminding her of something she'd lost. Still, it temporarily caused her to smile as she looked back up to listen to the meeting.
"Is there any way we can make this meeting without taking Derevko out of our custody?" Vaughn asked.
"There's no way around it. We need a diversion to get into the villa, and if he can offer us more Intel, all the better," Jack explained.
"We will be implanting a tracking device. Marshall, you said you could have that done within the hour?" Kendall asked as the younger man nodded. "Good. The plane leaves for Rome in two hours."
Will met up with Sydney as they reached the door. "Syd, you okay?" he called softly, reaching for her arm to pause her.
When she turned towards him, she had steel in her eyes. "I'm going to go see my mother."
"Good luck Syd," he called as she smiled and disappeared towards the holding cell.
If Irina Derevko had been surprised or had been expecting Sydney's visit, her face gave away nothing. Instead, she was the picture of calm and collected, as though she had no qualms with meeting a contact of Arvin Sloane and no emotion over her partial freedom. "Sydney."
"Dad went out on the line for you, again, don't make him regret it."
"I'm doing this for you Sydney. I can't expect you to believe it, but everything I've done since the day I first left you was for your good."
"I fail to see how abandoning me at six, letting me think you were dead, was for my own good," she spoke strongly. "We leave for Rome in two hours," she explained and then turned and walked away.
During their transatlantic flight, Jack reviewed the operation several times, insuring that each member of the team was assured of his or her duties. Later, Sydney sighed and sat down against the wall of the cargo plane, propped up against sacks of supplies, hopeful of getting a nap. On the other side of the plane she watched as her father and Dixon reviewed more Intel with Weiss. Irina sat by herself, reading over Young's dossier. Sydney looked away and down at her hands, when out of the corner of her eye she noticed Vaughn approach and sink to the ground next to her.
She glanced at him and then back at her hands. This was not the time or place to bring up the numerous questions flying around her brain. There was too much on her plate, too much at stake over the next few hours, to focus too much on her own personal losses. Still, she took the moment to study him out of the corner of her eye. In her absence he had grown scruffier, now comfortable wearing a bit of growth on his face before he shaved. Absently, she noted how it made him look more weary, more tired, and more vulnerable to the world.
"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice so low it was almost impossible to hear over the noise of the plane. On the other side of his body, he placed his left hand down and she watched the dim light bounce off the gold band.
"I'm fine," she insisted. "We're not going to find him there."
"We have a shot at getting a decent lead Syd."
"I know," Sydney agreed.
"You should get some sleep," he realized as he began to pull to her feet.
"Stay," she quietly requested. Half a second of deliberation quickly passed as he sank back down. Instead, he was content to sit next to her as she struggled to sleep the remainder of the flight.
The CIA arranged for Irina to meet with Young at a restaurant on the outskirts of Rome on Tuesday afternoon. The team assigned to the villa sat observing it. Dixon had managed to slip onto the property undetected, placing one of Marshall's discreet tracking devices into Young's car before he rejoined the team. Shortly after, Weiss contacted Jack when Young was spotted leaving the villa. Meanwhile, Vaughn, Dixon and the forensics team followed Sydney as she approached the building. Between the three of them, the agents quickly knocked out the four guards stationed around the perimeter of the house. Thanks to another one of Marshall's masterful gadgets disguised as a bracelet, the security alarm didn't go off when they used a lock pick to slip into the house and subsequently shut off the alarm.
Jack sat in the van, watching and listening as Irina sat waiting on the restaurant's patio. Through her comlink he heard her talk under her breath, contemplating the menu softly to herself, just as he recalled her doing countless times during their marriage.
"We've got Young approaching the restaurant," Kendall spoke into Jack's earpiece.
"Copy that," he replied. Within minutes he spotted Nikolai Young, the tall aging man with tired eyes, approaching Irina's table. She stood when he came into view, flashing him a disarming smile as he kissed her cheek.
"Irina, darling, it's been so long. How are you doing?"
"I'm fine Nikolai, thank you for seeing me."
"Who could resist the chance to meet with Irina Derevko?"
Irina smiled at the compliment as they placed their orders. Young placed his napkin on his lap, shifting in his seat. "It's a privilege to see you again. Arvin doesn't mention you much, I thought perhaps you'd retired."
"Retired? What the hell is he talking about Jack?" Kendall hissed into the other man's earpiece.
"I have no idea," was his crisp answer.
"Retire? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Irina coyly replied.
Young leaned across the table, and from the edge of the observation screen, Jack watched as he reached behind his body and under his suit jacket. "I know all about you Irina Derevko. About Arvin as well. You can't possibly believe I'm that foolish. I know all about you, your work. How you've wasted two valuable years not on Rambaldi, but on your precious daughter. Most importantly, I know about your ties to the CIA," he smirked.
Irina froze as she heard a distinct click of a gun being engaged. Seconds later she felt the cool steel press against the back of her neck. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. This is just a meeting between friends -"
"Cooperate with me Irina, and no one gets hurt. Fight, and not only do you die, but I detonate the explosives I have rigged throughout the block. See, some of my closest friends own shops along this street. Quite convenient of you to choose it, don't you think?"
"Jack? What the hell is she doing?" Kendall barked. On the screen Jack watched his former wife stand, only to be grabbed under the neck by one of Young's employees. The patio was empty, the restaurant nearly deserted at that hour, as Young pulled out the detonator.
"Damn it, she's cooperating," Jack hissed.
"We've still got the tracking device in the car and in her Jack, there's a chance he might lead us right to Arvin Sloane," Kendall struggled to reason. This was not how the plan was supposed to go, this was not the diversion either man had in mind, but both were masters at playing the hand they were dealt. Unable to do anything without blowing the operation, Jack was forced to watch as both Young and Derevko disappeared off the screen. Quickly his fingers danced across one of the numerous keypads spread before him. "We've got both of them showing up on tracking Jack, how about you?"
"I've got them," he sighed.
"Try to get in contact with the team at the villa, we'll keep tracking them," the director commanded.
Unaware of what had transpired, the other team walked through the empty villa. Dixon directed the forensic team to start searching for evidence. That left Vaughn to silently trail behind Sydney as she slowly walked through the house, studying even the tiniest details in hopes of some memory recovery. There was a tingling sensation of deja vu as she walked throughout the rooms, taking in the handsome Italian furniture and expensive decorations. Photos were in every room, offering it a personal feeling. She even came across a photo of a younger Emily Sloane with a woman she assumed to be Barbara Young.
"Agents, we have a problem," the leader of the forensics team said, appearing in the massive dining room. The three agents turned around to face him.
"What's wrong?" Dixon questioned.
The team leader's face was drawn and unnaturally pale. "We found a bomb."
"What?" Vaughn replied as the leader led them to a back storage room. "Yeah, definitely a bomb," he muttered under his breath.
"Bomb? Did you say bomb?" Weiss nearly screamed into the comlink.
"Get Marshall on the phone - " Sydney commanded. Vaughn grabbed her arm before she could approach it.
"I don't think we have enough time," Dixon cut her off as the other agent silently agreed.
"Get out of there! Abort the mission! I repeat, get out of there *now*!" Weiss shouted frantically.
Vaughn forcefully pushed Sydney in front of him as they ran out of the house, racing to get as far away from the explosives as possible. As the force of the bomb shook the ground underneath them, Vaughn returned to his instincts, covering Sydney's body with his own as the entire team fell to the ground.
"Hello?" Weiss screamed frantically into the comlinks as the noise echoed in his ear. "Hello? Boyscout? Mountaineer? Anyone read me?!"
"Yeah," Vaughn sighed as he rolled off of Sydney and looked at the remnants of the once handsome villa. "Yeah, I read you."
"Is everyone okay?"
Dixon surveyed the small group and answered, "Yeah, I think we're all fine."
In the van Weiss sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Okay," he struggled to capture his normal breathing. "Okay. Just get back here."
"Come on," Vaughn sighed as he helped Sydney to her feet. "Everyone okay?"
"It was a set up," Sydney didn't reply, her eyes stuck on the fiery debris.
"Syd, we don't know that," Vaughn replied.
"C'mon, I don't think we should be any closer to this place than necessary," Dixon agreed, gently grabbing her arm as they climbed over the landscape to return to the vans.
Exhausted, with a small collection of circumstantial evidence, the quiet group drove to the airfield. With the explosion the group was running slightly behind, but they pulled onto the airstrip minutes before the plane took off. Sydney stepped onto the plane, relieved to see her father but instantly upset by his _expression.
"Where's mom?"
"Are you okay Sydney?" Jack met his daughter's gaze as she sat down next to him.
"We're fine. We got out. We didn't get to collect much evidence though. Young set us up."
"Yes, I know," her father agreed. "Young has taken your mother. We're tracking both Young and Derevko, hopefully they'll lead us to Sloane."
"So now what? We just go back home?" Sydney was obviously outraged as she heard the engines click on.
"We go back to Los Angeles and re-strategize," her father corrected. "Sloane is still two steps ahead of us, he's obviously been in contact with Young. Now we need to figure out how and when."
"What about mom?"
"Your mother's fully capable of caring for herself Sydney. We're keeping track of her with the device we implanted in her before we left Los Angeles. Kendall believes there's a possibility that Young will take her to Sloane and offer us a lead."
"You don't seem so convinced," Dixon commented on the other agent's obviously skeptical comment.
"When it comes to that woman, I'm never convinced."
"She wanted to help. We're still tracking her on the device. She might lead us to Sloane," Sydney strongly suggested.
"Yes, it's a remote possibility," Jack skeptically agreed. "We have a long flight ahead of us. Do any of you need to use the first aid kit?"
"I think we're fine," the forensic team leader spoke.
"I'm going to go try to get some sleep," Sydney sighed as she returned to the side of the cargo plane, cuddled up among the sacks of various belongings, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Los Angeles time was early Wednesday morning when they landed. The cars were already dispatched to pick them up from the airstrip. Kendall and Will stood alongside a twitching Marshall as they stepped into the joint task center. "What's going on?" Jack asked at the awkward reception.
"Marshall?" Kendall looked to the genius to speak.
Marshall rung his hands together, "I heard about that explosion Syd, pretty loud, huh? I hope you're okay. You too, Mr. Dixon, and of course Mr. Vaughn -"
"*Marshall*!" the FBI director barked. "The *point*."
"We lost the signal. Someone either removed or deactivated both our tracking devices."
"I thought you said it was foolproof," Jack snapped.
Marshall turned red in the face, "I thought they were."
Sydney sank into a desk chair and looked at the group. "They both set us up. This is another part of their sick plan," she shook her head. "Everything, the bomb and the meeting with Young . . . She was probably working with Young and Sloane from the beginning."
"But now we have reason to believe you were being held in Rome, or else there'd be no reason to destroy evidence," Kendall countered.
"Whether or not you like it Miss Bristow, you are your mother's weak spot, we have you and now we have leverage on her."
Sydney shook her head and rested her face in her hands. "How could I believe her?"
Kendall softened, "Why don't you take the day off Agent Bristow. Recuperate from jet lag. We don't need you here today."
"I think that's a good idea Syd," Will agreed.
"Sydney?" Jack beckoned. When she looked up she nodded and slowly stood, aware that all of their eyes were on her.
"If we find something Agent Bristow, we'll contact you," Kendall promised.
"I'm going," she agreed. She hugged Will and thanked Marshall and disappeared from the joint task center.
Spending a beautiful day inside sulking was not an option. Instead she returned to her father's house, where she changed and then drove to the track. Using her alumni card, she was easily allowed access to the track that she had made countless runs around. The track where she'd told Will that she was engaged to Danny; a track that felt more like home than many other places. Alone, she began running, surprised at her own speed. The speed, the feel of the track, firm and steady underneath her running shoes, allowed her to begin to feel the letdown that went with the disastrous pieces that were her life.
Halfway in the sky, the sun broiled down on her when she finally sat down on the grass. Soaked through her clothes, she took a sip from her water bottle as her cell phone rang. She groaned and reached for it, wondering what the hell Kendall could possible have to tell her. Less than five hours had passed since she'd left the joint task center. Not even someone as unsympathetic as Kendall could expect that to be adequate time to help her clear her mind.
"Hello?" she replied, brushing the sweaty tendrils away from her face.
"Sydney," a familiar feminine voice spoke.
"What do you want?" she demanded through gritted teeth, suddenly relieved no one else was on the track.
"I'm sorry Sydney, I never wanted to deceive you, but this is the only way -"
"The only way?" Sydney spat over the words. "How's it go mom? Screw me once, shame on you, screw me twice, shame on me?"
"I'm only doing this to help you."
"To help me? How many times do you expect me to trust you? How many seconds chances do you want?" she snapped, blinking back her own tears.
"I have contacts Sydney, people who will *never* talk to the CIA. People who can help me find Sloane, to uncover what happened to you -"
"You expect me to believe that? The CIA believes that this was all another elaborate set up, that you had this planned with Young and Sloane since the beginning. There was a bomb in the villa Mom, two minutes later and I would be dead. Or was that part of your plan from the beginning?"
"I am your *mother*, you will not speak to me in that tone!" Irina harshly replied.
Sydney laughed bitterly, "You are not my mother. Not anymore. Maybe you never were. You are on a single quest to understand Rambaldi. To you I'm just a pawn in that. I don't want to be that anymore, not to you or to anyone," she explained. "And when you see Sloane, tell him I look forward to being the one to pull the switch when the U.S. government kills him," she finished and abruptly hung up her phone.
From the moment he got into the car, he knew she had a seven hour lead on him. Seven hours from the time she left the CIA until the time he was free for the day. Jack was still working, strategizing with Kendall, Will and a handful of the CIA's best minds. He was only slightly amused that they didn't consider him part of that elite group. Perhaps he was too close to the case, but if that was true, then certainly it extended to Will and Jack as well. Still, he wasn't going to beg for more overtime, he had accumulated more than enough since Sydney's return. There were far more important things on his mind.
He swung by the apartment to give Donovan cool water and fresh food as well as to change. The jeans and T-shirt were comfortable and the only things he had that were clean. His laundry was another victim of Becky's departure, most of his casual clothes tossed into the hamper waiting to be cleaned. Then it was back into the car. The list of her favorite haunts was as clear in his mind as though he'd only driven by all of them yesterday. Too early for the restaurant, and the newly fallen rain disqualified everything short of the train station. With the car parked and securely locked, he pushed through the quickly moving riders, scanning the seats. Eventually he walked through the lobby of the train station three times, just to insure that she wasn't there, in case he'd done the unimaginable and overlooked her in the crowd. Finally, just before six he left, aware that if she had been there, she was long gone.
Returning to the apartment before he found her was not an option his mind or heart would allow. Instead, he drove around the city, even passing by the warehouse on the off chance she'd be there. The rain limited her choice of sanctuary, and when he called Will's cell phone he wasn't surprised to learn that the man was at the restaurant but hadn't seen her. Not caring that he was running low on gas, he drove by any place he could think of in his search for her. After a quick drive and hurried walk through some of her former UCLA haunts, he still had no idea where she could be. The car clock read just after nine as he slid into the car, one last destination in mind before he gave in and called Jack Bristow.
Usually they had pee wee hockey games at the rink on Wednesday nights, but it was either over or canceled by the time he pulled into the parking lot. There were only two other cars there, one a government issued sedan and the other, a Blazer he knew belonged to the rink owner. If the sound of the door opening and slamming shut bothered her, she didn't indicate it as she skated gracefully along the ice, using her hockey stick to absently play with the buck. Vaughn sighed in relief to have finally found her. Silently he leaned against the edge of the rink, watching her move easily.
"She called me," Sydney explained, not bothering to look at him. "She called me, saying that this was for me, that she has contacts that will never talk to the CIA . . . Still, it doesn't really matter, does it? She still lied to me, betrayed my trust. Who knows what her motives are," she sighed. Then softer she added, "We'll probably never know."
"Syd," his voice slid effortlessly over the nickname. "I was looking for you," he confessed as she continued to skate. With nothing else left to ask, he returned to the default question. "How are you feeling?"
The question jarred her as she stopped moving. Even though a few meters distanced them, she glared at him from her stance on the ice. "I don't know how to feel Vaughn, okay?" she snapped. "I don't know how to do this. This isn't something they ever taught me in college or even training for SD-6. What the hell do you expect me to do? I wake up to find I've lost two years, one of my best friends is dead, the other is *still* struggling with emotional baggage, my father was put in a wheelchair by some sociopath hell-bent on destroying my life, and my boyfriend is married to another woman! What, exactly, do you suggest I do? My mother turns herself in again, I foolishly allow myself to trust her because she *claims* to want to help, but then she conveniently arranges to disappear again. I let her screw me over, again, but she's just icing on the cake at this point because right now I feel like the entire world has screwed me over."
Fueled by the anger directed at him, he stepped onto the ice, easily gaining his balance as he gave her a strong look of his own. "What would you have me do Syd? I thought you were dead. For half a second, try to imagine what that did to me! Jesus! Do you think I got married to spite you? I was doing my damnedest to move on. This hasn't been easy for me, this hasn't been easy for any of us. No one's disputing that you are in hell right now, but don't make me the bad guy. I want to help you, I'm *going* to help you, so stop pushing me away."
Her voice was controlled, but the anger was obvious as her fingers shook when she replied, "You got over me Vaughn. Less than two years without a body and you got over me. How is that supposed to make me feel? Everything else . . . The changes I can deal with. Losing Francie hurts but I can deal with it. And I am the one who allowed my mother to hurt me again -"
"You didn't."
"I did," she corrected, her voice growing steadily less harsh. "I can cope with my father and the CIA and Will, hell even Sloane . . . This . . ." she motioned with her free hand to the seemingly endless space between them. "You were the one change I never would have imagined, and you're the one change I don't know how to adjust to."
"Becky's gone."
"Maybe physically, but we both know it's not that simple. She's still there. You still married her . . ." her head shook as her eyes dropped to the ice. "I'm a spy, I should know better than to have expectations, to make further plans..."
"You still did," he softly voiced. Hesitantly she looked up at him and nodded.
"I was so stupid," she sniffled and shook her head. "So stupid. I *knew* better. What was I thinking? Nothing ever goes that well, especially not for me -"
"Syd," he sighed. There was no falter in his step as he slowly approached her, cautious of the ice beneath him. Then there was only relief on his features as she fell into his arms.
"You hurt me," she spoke, the conviction obvious despite the tears.
"Yeah," he closed his eyes, one hand soothing her back as the other one ran through her hair. "I know."
"I don't know how to get past that Vaughn," she swallowed the rock in her throat. "My mother..."
"Maybe," he struggled to speak, desperate to calm her fears despite his own doubts. "Maybe she's telling the truth. Maybe she'll use her freedom to get in touch with her contacts, to find Sloane."
Sydney was silent, so in their own little world, he allowed himself to hold her. There, she could lose herself in her tears before she could continue the painful process of building herself up again. Once upon a time they had been joined together, hands and legs, eyes and lips, neither quite sure where they ended and the other began. Neither even caring. This was different, comfort and compassion, safety from the storm. That was something he would never deny her. Two years might have passed, but his feelings for her weren't controlled by a switch; they weren't something he could easily flip on and off. While it was the same problem that had caused him to nearly lose his position at the CIA on more than one occasion, it was something he never would have changed.
"How did you find me?" she asked finally, pulling back to look at him.
Vaughn chuckled, "It wasn't easy. This was the last place I thought of."
"I can't believe you'd remember this place," she sighed and rested her face back against the fabric of his sweater.
"I remember," he softly promised, his hand running over her hair as he absently pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"I should probably get back to my father's house, he'll wonder where I am," she absently remembered, her voice still muffled by the cotton of his shirt. Reluctantly she pulled out of his arms as he let go of her. "I should use the bathroom," she self-consciously wiped the tears from her eyes.
"I'll wait for you."
"You don't have to -"
"Syd, I'll wait for you," he stopped her. Sydney smiled and nodded as she skated off of the ice towards the rest rooms.
He was talking to the owner when she reemerged, her face its normal shade, and her eyes not quite as blood shot. Vaughn finished his conversation, promising to be by later in the week. They were silent as he walked her outside, holding doors for her and looking everywhere but at the temptation of her free hand. Even after he held her car door for her, smiled at her and said that he'd see her tomorrow, there was one thing that she remembered most vividly. One moment of their brief time together between the rink and the car that stuck out the brightest. A tiny little detail that she had noticed when she returned from the bathroom.
His wedding ring was gone.
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: For Orianna & Linda.
A/N: One reviewer said perhaps Becky should have been more opinionated. Perhaps, but in a lot of ways Becky is me and frankly I keep my opinions to myself, even if they hurt. I feel bad telling people they've hurt me, even when they have.
Oh, Whitelighter Enchantress, if you knew how many newspaper articles I have saved from UConn, you'd really be disgusted. My Mother says my room's a fire hazard - probably is :) I keep almost everything, win or lose. I still have the cover of the CT Post from when the guys won teh national championship in '99 although it's torn in two now :(
Oh, yeah. I found my bracket (apparently I just THOUGHT I'd tossed it) and I had Kentucky winning it all. Go figure. Who really thought Syracuse would win? I mean I'm happy they did, but really . . .
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It was the click of the gates opening that woke Irina Derevko the next morning. Slowly she stretched to her full height, approaching the glass as her daughter appeared before her. With the eye of a mother, Irina noted that Sydney looked tired, but less weighed down by the world. A smile stretched across Irina's face as she took in her daughter. Something had obviously turned Sydney's way for once. Perhaps it was something small, but it had lifted a part of the burden she'd been carrying since she had reappeared.
"Sydney."
"I believe that Sloane held me in Rome for a period of time. Do you know where Sloane's operations in Rome were located?"
"There's an American university in Rome, John Cabot University. While I never met him, Arvin claimed he had a contact there, a man who was married to someone Emily knew when she worked at the state department. I don't recall him ever mentioning a name, but he did say that there was a secluded villa in I Castelli Romani that he could use. He never told me anything more than that."
"No locations? No names?" she demanded as Irina shook her head. "Thank you," she said as she copied down the information her mother had given her.
"How are you Sydney?"
After a moment she looked back up at her mother. "I've been fine."
"Your father?"
"Dad's fine too," she was quick to assure.
Irina nodded. "Good." With her lips pressed together Irina's eyes brushed up and down her daughter's form before arriving back at her eyes. "You don't look as troubled. Finding your memories must make this a bit easier."
"I've been doing my best."
"Your father must be a great support to you. Surely your friends."
"Yes," she hesitantly agreed. "They've been helpful."
"And Agent Vaughn?"
"What about Agent Vaughn?" she calculated her reply, mindful to keep her tone neutral. The last thing she wanted to give her mother was a loose string to tug at.
"Certainly he must be very helpful in your recovery process, in helping you readjust to your life," Irina suggested. Sydney studied her mother and wondered if she was being purposely cruel or was sincerely unaware of the decisions Vaughn had made in her absence.
"Agent Vaughn is my colleague. We're working together to find Sloane, to try to understand where I was kept and why. So yes, in that regard he's been very helpful."
Across the glass her mother seemed to silently understand her explanation. For a moment she looked down at her feet, playing with her hands and then looked back at her daughter. "I'm not much of an art connoisseur Sydney, but I've always loved Van Gogh. From the moment I saw 'Starry Night' for the first moment... I just fell in love with his work. The simplicity and the details... The way he uses the colors... He was an interesting man, as I suppose all artists are. He was an artistic genius, ahead of his time. Much more fascinating than any Rambaldi puzzle," she explained. "I was considering your father, you and Agent Vaughn and Van Gogh came to mind. He's credited with saying 'love is eternal. The aspect of it may change, but the essence remains the same'. I've struggled to understand that my whole life. I believe he's right, no matter how painful it may be. It might be something you'd like to consider."
"I'm really not much of an art fan," Sydney spoke solidly. Irina watched her chin slightly waver as her daughter looked away. "Thank you," came moments later, her voice softer and obviously more vulnerable. "I'm sure the CIA will be eager to evaluate any leads you can offer us."
"Take care of yourself Sydney."
"I will," she promised and disappeared through the gates.
At the same time that she was leaving the cell area, Michael Vaughn was sinking down into his work chair with a tired sigh. Agents were just crawling in to start their day, and the area around the coffee machine was more crowded than the work area. The day ahead of him seemed unusually long as he anticipated the struggle to make it halfway through the week. The leads on Sloane were now numerous - Rome was a large city, and until the debrief later in the morning, he would be uncertain of what Intel Irina Derevko could offer them. As he booted up the computer and struggled to stay awake, he wondered if he'd even be conscious at the debrief.
Truthfully, he had missed Becky that morning, missed her in ways he hadn't expected. He longed to see the oatmeal socks patter across the floor; missed how she sang in the morning, as if her off-key voice would make 6am seem a little bit easier to cope with. There was no one at the counter literally measuring out the size of their bowl of Cheerios, no one to mumble that he'd used most of the hot water, no one sitting across the table from him to read off the newspaper's five day forecast. The television hadn't been flipped on when he emerged from the shower, and the half of the bed next to his had remained made throughout the night.
The night had been unexpectedly difficult as well. He'd forgotten how cold a bed could be without two humans now that it was just a human and a lazy dog. Donovan was overjoyed to have his half of the bed back, oblivious to how his master tossed and turned throughout the night. Becky would talk in her sleep - she'd sing in her sleep too. Every night before she finally fell asleep, he'd hear a tiny crack as she stretched the joints in her ankles, followed by a contented sigh as she cuddled up next to the pillow. He missed the sound of her steady breathing on the pillow next to his. He'd even awoken at exactly 2:08 in the morning, expecting to feel the bed dip, as she'd roll out to quickly use the bathroom. Always two - oh - eight in the morning, from the first night they'd spent together to the last. Consistent, reliable, comfortable. Becky.
"You look like you're thinking too hard for eight in the morning," Eric Weiss declared as he leaned up against his friend's desk. "Coffee?" he held out another mug.
"Yeah, thanks," Vaughn forced a half smile and took a sip of the coffee, assured to feel it burn down his throat.
"What's wrong?"
Vaughn took another sip then looked at his friend. Under his breath he answered, "Becky moved out yesterday."
"That's why you're upset?" Eric struggled not to laugh. "That's the best news I've heard since Sydney came back!"
"She's my wife."
"That's where you're wrong my friend. It sounds to me like she's your soon-to-be ex-wife!" he joyously pointed out, only to be met by a sharp glance. "Sorry, forgot you liked her." He uncomfortably looked away. A second and a sip of coffee later, Eric looked back at Michael. "So, what's going on? Have you told Sydney yet?"
"I'm not even sure she'd care."
"Are you out of your mind?" Weiss laughed and struggled to keep from gaining more of an audience in the ops center.
"For all I know she could be interested in Will. They have been spending a lot of time together."
Another laugh and a slap on the back, "I think it's well established that Sydney does not like Will in that way."
"She just left yesterday."
"Your point? You went right from Alice to Sydney and you clung to Becky when you met her. Face it, you just don't like to be alone. Don't get me wrong, I don't blame you, I don't either, but you *really* hate it."
"I'm perfectly capable of being on my own."
"Then prove it," he suggested. "Or you know what, better yet, take off the damn wedding band, find Sydney and kiss her senseless. I swear Vaughn, I love you like a brother and I think Sydney's great, but the two of you really are going to drive me insane," he concluded, giving his pal another gentle slap on the back and returning to his own work area.
Vaughn contemplated his friend's words for a moment and studied the gold band on his left hand. Leaving it untouched, he sighed and went back to his own seemingly endless pile of work. Halfway through a stack of Will's analysis reports, he caught Sydney walking in out of the corner of his eye. She paused to share a short but animated conversation with Weiss before she slid into her own desk, either not seeing or ignoring him.
They were unable to exchange anything other than a soft 'hey' later as he held the door of the conference room open for her. Jack and Kendall were already discussing the briefing as Sydney slid into her chair and the rest of the group took theirs. When the doors shut, Jack slid the wheelchair closer to the table as Kendall began the debrief.
"Thanks to Irina Derevko we now have a better idea of where exactly in Rome Arvin Sloane was keeping Sydney. Apparently through his wife Emily, he had contacts at John Cabot University. There was also a villa in I Castelli Romani that he had at his disposal."
"So what do we do now?" Dixon asked.
Jack looked at the small group. "Now we search through the faculty to try to pinpoint who Sloane's contact was."
"That can't be that difficult. How many professors in Rome had spouses who worked at the American State Department?" Will pointed out.
"Unfortunately more than we'd expected," Kendall answered. "We are looking back over the past few decades to try to find this guy. For all we know he hasn't been employed by the university for years. People, we're still searching for a needle in a haystack, just a slightly smaller pile. I'm hopeful that perhaps we can send a team to Rome as early as Friday. At the latest, next week."
"Is it possible your mother's holding something back?" Dixon carefully suggested, glancing at his former partner in concern.
"Why? She has nothing to gain. Everything we've been able to uncover has indicated that she's spent the last two years looking for me," Sydney pointed out.
"It's not safe to assume anything with that woman," Jack stiffly reminded them.
"We're taking all of her information at face value, but right now it's the best lead we've got," Kendall reasoned. "Marshall, I expect you to start manufacturing a device that will allow our teams to get past whatever security systems might be found in an Italian villa."
"I'm on it sir," he sputtered out all in one breath.
"Maybe we'll get lucky. There is, of course, the possibility that Sloane does something before we pinpoint who his contact is."
"Has something come across echelon to indicate that he's working on something?" Vaughn questioned.
"Nothing. But Arvin Sloane isn't a man who leaves much of a trace," the FBI director reminded all of them. "Does anyone have anything to add?" He looked around to find no response. "I think we're done here then," he said as the group started to disband. "Agent Bristow?" he called as Sydney halted. Vaughn glanced at her for a moment before he followed Dixon out of the room.
"Your visit with your mother went well?" Kendall asked once they were alone. Silently she nodded. "When we organize a team to send to Rome, it'll be your decision whether or not you care to be a part of that team."
"Thank you," Sydney smiled gratefully and left the conference room.
Jack was called in to consult on an unrelated case that evening, leaving her no other option than to have dinner with Will at the restaurant. Time and circumstances had kept her from approaching Vaughn that day, along with the thin band that he still wore around his finger. She'd left work early to go sign some more papers for the real estate agent. The deal was moving along at record speed, and she wondered again if her father had pulled a few strings. Any assistance Jack Bristow wanted to offer would be graciously accepted. In another few weeks she'd be out on her own, although she knew that her father would silently grieve the space that she was currently taking up.
"She really asked about Vaughn?" Will's eyes were wide as they ate dinner at the restaurant. The customers were sparse, just the regulars, most of whom Will knew by name. After a chaotic day at the office, and far more Los Angeles traffic than she'd anticipated, the quiet was a welcome relief for Sydney.
"She was just looking for a way in," Sydney dismissed.
Across from her, her faithful friend nodded. "Are you going to go to Rome?"
"Probably," she sighed. "I don't imagine my father will be pleased with my decision, but he did give me the discretion so that it was my decision."
"This really is like finding a needle in a haystack Syd. Kendall wasn't kidding. The list of possible suspects is massive - we're going back as far as the late seventies. We're going to find it though."
"I hate this, I feel like my entire life is on hold again because of this man. He really is the Devil."
When Sydney looked over at Will, awaiting a response, his gaze was no where in her vaccinity. Curiously she traced his view of sight to the door, where an unassuming petite blonde had just entered. "Is that Stephanie?" she whispered eagerly.
"No," Will shook his head, still not looking at her. "I'll be right back," he smiled quickly at her. Sydney's smile grew as she leaned back and tried to discreetly watch her friend in action. Will rubbed his hands together as he sat down next to the blonde. It had been years since he'd really used a pick up line, and from the look of disdain she'd sent him, one might not have worked too successfully anyway. "Hi, I'm Will Tippin. I own this restaurant."
Instantly her skin burned as she shook his hand. "I'm Elise D'Elia. I'm sorry, have I done something wrong? This is my first time here -"
"No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. I guess I just wanted to introduce myself. I know most of the people here on a Tuesday night - it's a bit unusual to get a newcomer."
"I just moved here," she explained.
"For work?" he asked pleasantly as she nodded. "Are you an actress?"
"No, I'm a writer."
"Really?" his eyes widened. "I'm a writer too. I mean, I *was* a writer, a journalist. I write still, for a travel magazine."
"That must be nice, you get to travel a lot," Elise commented as the waitress brought her what she'd ordered. "I'm sorry, I ordered out. I have to get back to my place."
"Oh. You have a boyfriend?" He asked regretfully.
"No, just a novel full of characters who finally showed me how to end the book," she laughed. Will's grin grew as they both stood. "From what everyone's told me, this is a really great place. It was nice to meet you," she explained as she shook his hand again.
"Thanks. Hey, since you're new in the area, if you need a tour, just give me a call. I'm in the phone book."
"Okay," she smiled. "I'm going now," she explained as his gaze followed her out the door.
A moment later Will returned, glassy eyed with red cheeks, to the table. "Stephanie?"
"What?" Will shook his head after a moment. "No. That's Elise D'Elia. She's a writer, new to the area."
"What happened to Stephanie?"
"Nothing happened to Stephanie. Elise just caught my eye. I'd never seen her before... Thought I'd introduce myself."
Sydney laughed, "I haven't seen you this flustered since college! You must really like her!"
"She seemed nice," he shrugged. For a moment she watched him grow distant. Images of Francie arrived on his mind, as he remembered the good times and the bad, and how nice it had been to be honest with her about his work. Thinking back on it, he struggled not to feel as though he'd been played for a fool.
"If you really like her, you could look her up in the phone book."
"What about Stephanie?"
"Two dates Will. If things aren't going to work out, isn't it better to know now than a year from now?"
"You're right," he sighed and took a swig of his beer.
"Take your time Will, there's no time limit," Sydney softly reminded him. "On the bright side, her cheeks were redder than yours. I think she liked you too."
"One day at a time Syd," he reminded her. "I thought we were talking about you, not me."
"You're more interesting," she shrugged.
"Did you avoid him today on purpose or by chance?" Will asked, slowly peeling the label off the sweating amber bottle.
"Will," Sydney sighed.
"I'm not trying to be nosey Syd. I'm just worried about you."
"I'm okay," she promised. "For the record though, it wasn't on purpose."
"Does he know that? When I saw him in the parking garage he looked like he'd lost his best friend."
"Will," she leaned across the table, "Vaughn's wife just left him, I don't imagine this is a very easy time for him."
"I love so many things about you Syd," he sat back and sighed. "So many things, but one of the things I love best is how you can always make something better. Even when you're the origin of the problem, you can always make me feel better. Really, it works on a lot of people. Maybe that's one of your qualities that Vaughn could really use right now."
"I don't know what to do," she confessed. "What do I do?"
"You're asking the wrong guy Syd. I'm not exactly an expert at relationships. I usually ask you, remember?" he smiled ruefully.
"I thought I'd be angry," she sighed. "At first I was so angry. Now I just feel... sad. I'd rather be angry, it doesn't hurt as much."
"I'm not sure anger gets you anywhere. You shouldn't be angry Syd, he didn't do it to hurt you."
"He did hurt me though, doesn't that matter?"
"Yes, but think about Vaughn. These past few years have been hell for him. You are my best friend, and he's one of my good friends. I just want you both to be happy."
"I'm not even sure what I want," she sighed and took a sip of her wine.
Will raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Yeah right Syd. You've always known what you wanted from the day I met you."
"Things are different now."
"I don't think as much has changed as you think it has," he reasoned. To her skeptical _expression he continued, "Yeah, maybe the shades have changed, but the colors are still the same. For what it's worth, you've been with him every day for the past two years, whether even he realizes it," Will sighed. "You've been through so much already Syd, you can't let this break you."
"I guess I just wonder when enough is enough," she sighed and sipped her wine.
"I don't," he answered quickly. Sydney looked up at him as he clarified, "I know you Syd, you're going to keep getting up, dusting yourself off and working until you reach your goal."
"At what cost?"
"He might be the Devil Syd, but no one lives forever, not even Sloane."
"That's what I'm hoping," she muttered. "I should have just quit the CIA when I graduated. This wouldn't even be an issue."
"You couldn't have done it then and you won't do it now. You won't quit until you've got him."
"Before, he was always five steps ahead of me; now he's got two years."
"You're getting depressed Syd."
"Just for the night," she sighed. "I'll be fine by the morning."
Will sighed and stretched to his feet. "C'mon, let's go, you need to go home. Take a bath, read a book, sleep. Something to take your mind off of everything." He gestured for her to stand.
"A bath sounds nice," she sighed as his arm rested around her shoulder in a friendly gesture.
"It's going to be okay," he murmured against her head.
"Yeah," she rested her weight against his as he led her to the car. "I know."
Jack allowed his daughter some peace and quiet when she returned home that evening. The tea was warm and sweet, waiting for her in her bedroom when she emerged from her prolonged soak. When she returned the mug to the kitchen, all of the house lights were out, and judging by the lack of light from under her father's bedroom door, he was sound asleep. She padded barefoot through the quiet house before she slid into her bed and fell fast asleep.
The sun peaked through her curtains waking her Wednesday morning. Quickly getting out of bed she dressed, determined to make it through the day. After all she'd endured, it was no longer about making it through the week or the month or until they got their next decent lead on Sloane. Instead, she was content just to make it through one day at a time. The tiny victories were seemingly all she had left. With a forceful push, the depressing thoughts temporarily left her as she joined her father for a quick breakfast.
The night before her sleep had been anything but peaceful. While the dreams that plagued her were less nightmarish memories and more bizarre concoctions of her own subconscious, they still woke her. It had been Carrie who had suggested she keep a pen and paper by her bed at night, to jot down whatever she remembered or anything that popped into her mind at the most peculiar of times. Still, nothing came to her of any use, just bizarre images and weird scenarios mixed in from images she'd seen on television and in the newspapers since her return.
"You look like you need more than this," Dixon sighed as he handed her a cup of coffee. "You okay Syd?"
Smiling, she pushed hair behind her ear. "Yes. I'm fine."
"Sarah wanted to know if you'd be interested in coming over for Thanksgiving. Jack and Will are invited too, of course."
"Aren't you going to have a full house?"
"I've really missed you Syd, it would mean a lot to me if you decided to come."
"I'm hoping to take that weekend and move into my condo, if everything goes through," she explained. "But I'd love to come over."
"Great," he smiled. "I'll tell Sarah tonight."
"She's great Dixon," Sydney complimented. "I'm sure Diane really would have liked her."
After a moment the older man nodded, "I hope so."
"She seems great with the kids too."
"She is," he confirmed. "She's not their mom, and they know it, but she's a good stepmother. She loves them Syd, even if they don't always see it that way."
"They probably wouldn't always see it that way right now anyway - it's their age, not her," Sydney smiled. Dixon nodded and looked away. "What is it?" Sydney asked.
Finally he looked up at his former partner. "Sarah wanted to invite Vaughn. It's her idea, to have everybody over - Marshall and Carrie are invited but they're going to his mother's. I told Sarah I'd talk to you about it first. It would mean a lot to me if you were there Syd, and if you'd prefer I didn't invite him, I won't."
Sydney smiled at his loyalty. "Thank you for asking. It's your Thanksgiving though, I don't want you to feel that you need to disclude someone because of my involvement."
"Only if you're sure Syd, I don't want to make it uncomfortable for you -"
"Don't worry about me," she insisted. "I'm going to be fine."
"You don't always have to be strong. If you need something, don't hesitate to ask."
"I'm going to need someone to help move boxes. Think you could help there?"
"Sure," he agreed. Judging by his smile, he was slightly reassured that he could help her with something.
"Thank you," she smiled.
"Are you sure there's nothing you want to talk about Syd?"
"I'm fine," Sydney assured him.
Dixon nodded, although obviously unsatisfied with her answer, and stood. "I'll let you get back to work." She smiled and nodded as he returned to his own work area.
They all met in the conference room early that afternoon. Kendall anxiously paced the front of the room, stewing in his own thoughts when Jack Bristow wheeled himself in, the last of the group to appear. By then Sydney was meeting Dixon's and Will's confused eyes as Marshall twitched nervously in his seat, only calmed when his wife silently reached out to place her hand over his. Jack wheeled up to the front of the room, got comfortable and silently turned to Kendall to start the meeting.
"We've narrowed the list down to two hundred and thirteen possible employees. We're hoping to have a match by Monday."
"That's almost a week from now," Sydney spoke up.
"Yes, I'm aware of how far from now that is Agent Bristow, but it's the best we can do. I don't want to waste CIA resources on a wild goose chase, not until I can fully defend my actions to my superiors. If you want things to move any quicker, perhaps you can press your mother."
"She said that she told us everything she knows."
"Would it really hurt to talk to her again?" Kendall pointed out. "It's not an order Agent Bristow, but if you're displeased with the way things are going, that would be my suggestion."
An hour later she strode confidently through the gates. Irina sprang to her feet, a half smile on her face as she silently greeted her daughter. "Have you had any success in tracking Arvin?"
"No," Sydney sighed. "Is there anything you've remembered? Anything you haven't told CIA?"
"I'm sorry, I don't have anything else to offer you," Irina sighed. "Be careful Sydney. Even if the CIA can determine who Arvin's contact is, he's highly unlikely to talk to you. All of Arvin's contacts share his beliefs, especially about the U.S. Government. The CIA might not have much success in locating him and especially in communicating with him."
"You believe he'd talk to you."
"It's possible, if you can locate the contact, that he'd talk to me. Very few people are aware that I ever broke off my ties with Arvin. Obviously the CIA's objective is to locate the villa and confirm your suspicions, but if you can locate the contact, it might be beneficial to try to communicate with him."
"Kendall's not likely to let you talk to anyone, not after what you did last time."
"That was two years ago Sydney, and the circumstances are vastly different."
"They're not that different," she sternly corrected.
"I want to help you Sydney."
Despite all of her that desperately wanted to believe, her voice coolly replied, "That's what you claimed before. The CIA doesn't take well to being duped."
Irina's face softened as she met her daughter's eyes. "If you have to, use my presence. Certainly the CIA having me in custody could work as some bargaining chip in your favor."
"I'm sure Kendall will take that into consideration," she spoke neutrally.
"Thank you Sydney."
Cautiously she studied the woman who was her mother, before she nodded and left the cell area.
Over the next few days Sydney established a comfortable, if not predictable routine. Shower, brush hair and teeth, dress, breakfast with her father, work. After work she began to slip away to the gym, eager to sharpen her skills. Not only was she enhancing skills that would serve her well, it allowed her to vent her frustrations. By Friday, she knew it had been a week since Becky had decided to leave him. Half a dozen conversations had passed between them, all brief and professional. The thing that hung over her most of all, was the slice of gold that remained on his finger.
Friday night she had dinner with the Dixons, playing Scrabble with the kids and offering her services to Sarah in the kitchen. That evening the restaurant was in the young manager's hands. Will had anxiously explained the previous evening that he was meeting Elise to see a New York Times Best-selling author make a stop at a local bookstore. When she last saw him at work Friday afternoon, Marshall was stuttering over dating advice and she had smiled at both of them before she walking away to laugh.
Sydney spent the majority of the weekend at the gym, relieved to have finally found an appropriate outlet for her frustrations. She'd attacked the bag with a new vigor, and felt alive as the perspiration trickled down her skin. There was no better feeling than sliding the damp Lycra off of her skin, of knowing she'd accomplished something that day, even if it was just beating the crap out of a punching bag. She assured herself that at least it was beating the crap out of *something*, and she took pains to imagine Sloane's face as she delivered her strongest blows.
"Jesus Syd, you should be more careful!" Will exclaimed as he handed her a cup of coffee Monday morning. They stood in the rotunda of the CIA as he reached for her hand. Across the knuckles of her right hand was a dull bruise, one that would only darken in the days to come.
"I'm fine," she insisted as she took her hand back.
"Ouch, what did you do, break a window?" Weiss approached the duo, sipping his coffee as he eyed Sydney's hand.
"I spent the weekend at the gym. Something the two of you should consider," she playfully suggested.
"Nah," Will shook his head. "When I started this job I just caved in to the idea of being constantly overwhelmed and fat."
"You're not fat," she chuckled and rolled her eyes. Growing sober she looked at Weiss and asked, "Are you here for the debrief?"
"Yeah. In his infinite wisdom, Kendall decided my presence was suddenly mandatory."
"Nice to know the CIA doesn't hire just on personality, isn't it?" Will joked. The two men laughed, unaware that Sydney's laughter had died down. Across the room she caught him out of the corner of her eye as he walked towards the conference room, once again either unaware or unwilling to look in her direction. Neither was aware that the other watched them whenever they could. If he thought for half a moment he could study her undetected, he greedily took the opportunity, unaware that she did the same.
"I hate to say this, but we should probably head in there," Weiss motioned towards the conference room. The two men continued their light conversation as she walked with them into the room, silently taking her seat near Vaughn as she waited for Kendall to reappear.
"Good news ladies and gentleman," Kendall declared as he swaggered into the room. "We have made contact with Arvin Sloane's contact, a former John Cabot Professor by the name of Nikolai Young. His late wife, Barbara, worked at the State Department during Emily Sloane's tenure there. The Youngs and the Sloanes apparently used to vacation together."
Jack, who had entered the room seconds before the other director, added, "There's only one hitch."
"What?" Dixon asked.
"Unfortunately we are making no leeway with Mr. Young, and apparently with the exception of knowing Arvin Sloane, he has no traceable criminal history. Obviously, we had no leverage over him. Irina Derevko however..." Kendall trailed off and looked at Jack expectantly.
"You had to use my mother to make contact," Sydney filled in the blanks. "What could she possibly have on him that we don't?"
"Nothing, but he knows her. Young was apparently taken with your mother when he met her, and now that his wife is gone he's eager to . . . Make progress in their relationship," Jack explained, an undercurrent of amusement obvious on his features.
"We've pinpointed the location of Young's villa. He's currently staying there, so while your mother is meeting him in Rome, you'll lead a team into the villa," Kendall explained as he slid a folder in Sydney's direction. "Jack will be on point for your mother's op. Agent Dixon, Agent Vaughn, you'll be accompanying Agent Bristow and the forensics team into the villa. Agent Weiss, you'll be the point guy on this."
Sydney looked down Young's dossier as the words 'point guy' ran rampant through her mind. Ever so briefly she damned her flawless memory and damned every little thing around her for reminding her of something she'd lost. Still, it temporarily caused her to smile as she looked back up to listen to the meeting.
"Is there any way we can make this meeting without taking Derevko out of our custody?" Vaughn asked.
"There's no way around it. We need a diversion to get into the villa, and if he can offer us more Intel, all the better," Jack explained.
"We will be implanting a tracking device. Marshall, you said you could have that done within the hour?" Kendall asked as the younger man nodded. "Good. The plane leaves for Rome in two hours."
Will met up with Sydney as they reached the door. "Syd, you okay?" he called softly, reaching for her arm to pause her.
When she turned towards him, she had steel in her eyes. "I'm going to go see my mother."
"Good luck Syd," he called as she smiled and disappeared towards the holding cell.
If Irina Derevko had been surprised or had been expecting Sydney's visit, her face gave away nothing. Instead, she was the picture of calm and collected, as though she had no qualms with meeting a contact of Arvin Sloane and no emotion over her partial freedom. "Sydney."
"Dad went out on the line for you, again, don't make him regret it."
"I'm doing this for you Sydney. I can't expect you to believe it, but everything I've done since the day I first left you was for your good."
"I fail to see how abandoning me at six, letting me think you were dead, was for my own good," she spoke strongly. "We leave for Rome in two hours," she explained and then turned and walked away.
During their transatlantic flight, Jack reviewed the operation several times, insuring that each member of the team was assured of his or her duties. Later, Sydney sighed and sat down against the wall of the cargo plane, propped up against sacks of supplies, hopeful of getting a nap. On the other side of the plane she watched as her father and Dixon reviewed more Intel with Weiss. Irina sat by herself, reading over Young's dossier. Sydney looked away and down at her hands, when out of the corner of her eye she noticed Vaughn approach and sink to the ground next to her.
She glanced at him and then back at her hands. This was not the time or place to bring up the numerous questions flying around her brain. There was too much on her plate, too much at stake over the next few hours, to focus too much on her own personal losses. Still, she took the moment to study him out of the corner of her eye. In her absence he had grown scruffier, now comfortable wearing a bit of growth on his face before he shaved. Absently, she noted how it made him look more weary, more tired, and more vulnerable to the world.
"Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice so low it was almost impossible to hear over the noise of the plane. On the other side of his body, he placed his left hand down and she watched the dim light bounce off the gold band.
"I'm fine," she insisted. "We're not going to find him there."
"We have a shot at getting a decent lead Syd."
"I know," Sydney agreed.
"You should get some sleep," he realized as he began to pull to her feet.
"Stay," she quietly requested. Half a second of deliberation quickly passed as he sank back down. Instead, he was content to sit next to her as she struggled to sleep the remainder of the flight.
The CIA arranged for Irina to meet with Young at a restaurant on the outskirts of Rome on Tuesday afternoon. The team assigned to the villa sat observing it. Dixon had managed to slip onto the property undetected, placing one of Marshall's discreet tracking devices into Young's car before he rejoined the team. Shortly after, Weiss contacted Jack when Young was spotted leaving the villa. Meanwhile, Vaughn, Dixon and the forensics team followed Sydney as she approached the building. Between the three of them, the agents quickly knocked out the four guards stationed around the perimeter of the house. Thanks to another one of Marshall's masterful gadgets disguised as a bracelet, the security alarm didn't go off when they used a lock pick to slip into the house and subsequently shut off the alarm.
Jack sat in the van, watching and listening as Irina sat waiting on the restaurant's patio. Through her comlink he heard her talk under her breath, contemplating the menu softly to herself, just as he recalled her doing countless times during their marriage.
"We've got Young approaching the restaurant," Kendall spoke into Jack's earpiece.
"Copy that," he replied. Within minutes he spotted Nikolai Young, the tall aging man with tired eyes, approaching Irina's table. She stood when he came into view, flashing him a disarming smile as he kissed her cheek.
"Irina, darling, it's been so long. How are you doing?"
"I'm fine Nikolai, thank you for seeing me."
"Who could resist the chance to meet with Irina Derevko?"
Irina smiled at the compliment as they placed their orders. Young placed his napkin on his lap, shifting in his seat. "It's a privilege to see you again. Arvin doesn't mention you much, I thought perhaps you'd retired."
"Retired? What the hell is he talking about Jack?" Kendall hissed into the other man's earpiece.
"I have no idea," was his crisp answer.
"Retire? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Irina coyly replied.
Young leaned across the table, and from the edge of the observation screen, Jack watched as he reached behind his body and under his suit jacket. "I know all about you Irina Derevko. About Arvin as well. You can't possibly believe I'm that foolish. I know all about you, your work. How you've wasted two valuable years not on Rambaldi, but on your precious daughter. Most importantly, I know about your ties to the CIA," he smirked.
Irina froze as she heard a distinct click of a gun being engaged. Seconds later she felt the cool steel press against the back of her neck. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. This is just a meeting between friends -"
"Cooperate with me Irina, and no one gets hurt. Fight, and not only do you die, but I detonate the explosives I have rigged throughout the block. See, some of my closest friends own shops along this street. Quite convenient of you to choose it, don't you think?"
"Jack? What the hell is she doing?" Kendall barked. On the screen Jack watched his former wife stand, only to be grabbed under the neck by one of Young's employees. The patio was empty, the restaurant nearly deserted at that hour, as Young pulled out the detonator.
"Damn it, she's cooperating," Jack hissed.
"We've still got the tracking device in the car and in her Jack, there's a chance he might lead us right to Arvin Sloane," Kendall struggled to reason. This was not how the plan was supposed to go, this was not the diversion either man had in mind, but both were masters at playing the hand they were dealt. Unable to do anything without blowing the operation, Jack was forced to watch as both Young and Derevko disappeared off the screen. Quickly his fingers danced across one of the numerous keypads spread before him. "We've got both of them showing up on tracking Jack, how about you?"
"I've got them," he sighed.
"Try to get in contact with the team at the villa, we'll keep tracking them," the director commanded.
Unaware of what had transpired, the other team walked through the empty villa. Dixon directed the forensic team to start searching for evidence. That left Vaughn to silently trail behind Sydney as she slowly walked through the house, studying even the tiniest details in hopes of some memory recovery. There was a tingling sensation of deja vu as she walked throughout the rooms, taking in the handsome Italian furniture and expensive decorations. Photos were in every room, offering it a personal feeling. She even came across a photo of a younger Emily Sloane with a woman she assumed to be Barbara Young.
"Agents, we have a problem," the leader of the forensics team said, appearing in the massive dining room. The three agents turned around to face him.
"What's wrong?" Dixon questioned.
The team leader's face was drawn and unnaturally pale. "We found a bomb."
"What?" Vaughn replied as the leader led them to a back storage room. "Yeah, definitely a bomb," he muttered under his breath.
"Bomb? Did you say bomb?" Weiss nearly screamed into the comlink.
"Get Marshall on the phone - " Sydney commanded. Vaughn grabbed her arm before she could approach it.
"I don't think we have enough time," Dixon cut her off as the other agent silently agreed.
"Get out of there! Abort the mission! I repeat, get out of there *now*!" Weiss shouted frantically.
Vaughn forcefully pushed Sydney in front of him as they ran out of the house, racing to get as far away from the explosives as possible. As the force of the bomb shook the ground underneath them, Vaughn returned to his instincts, covering Sydney's body with his own as the entire team fell to the ground.
"Hello?" Weiss screamed frantically into the comlinks as the noise echoed in his ear. "Hello? Boyscout? Mountaineer? Anyone read me?!"
"Yeah," Vaughn sighed as he rolled off of Sydney and looked at the remnants of the once handsome villa. "Yeah, I read you."
"Is everyone okay?"
Dixon surveyed the small group and answered, "Yeah, I think we're all fine."
In the van Weiss sighed and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Okay," he struggled to capture his normal breathing. "Okay. Just get back here."
"Come on," Vaughn sighed as he helped Sydney to her feet. "Everyone okay?"
"It was a set up," Sydney didn't reply, her eyes stuck on the fiery debris.
"Syd, we don't know that," Vaughn replied.
"C'mon, I don't think we should be any closer to this place than necessary," Dixon agreed, gently grabbing her arm as they climbed over the landscape to return to the vans.
Exhausted, with a small collection of circumstantial evidence, the quiet group drove to the airfield. With the explosion the group was running slightly behind, but they pulled onto the airstrip minutes before the plane took off. Sydney stepped onto the plane, relieved to see her father but instantly upset by his _expression.
"Where's mom?"
"Are you okay Sydney?" Jack met his daughter's gaze as she sat down next to him.
"We're fine. We got out. We didn't get to collect much evidence though. Young set us up."
"Yes, I know," her father agreed. "Young has taken your mother. We're tracking both Young and Derevko, hopefully they'll lead us to Sloane."
"So now what? We just go back home?" Sydney was obviously outraged as she heard the engines click on.
"We go back to Los Angeles and re-strategize," her father corrected. "Sloane is still two steps ahead of us, he's obviously been in contact with Young. Now we need to figure out how and when."
"What about mom?"
"Your mother's fully capable of caring for herself Sydney. We're keeping track of her with the device we implanted in her before we left Los Angeles. Kendall believes there's a possibility that Young will take her to Sloane and offer us a lead."
"You don't seem so convinced," Dixon commented on the other agent's obviously skeptical comment.
"When it comes to that woman, I'm never convinced."
"She wanted to help. We're still tracking her on the device. She might lead us to Sloane," Sydney strongly suggested.
"Yes, it's a remote possibility," Jack skeptically agreed. "We have a long flight ahead of us. Do any of you need to use the first aid kit?"
"I think we're fine," the forensic team leader spoke.
"I'm going to go try to get some sleep," Sydney sighed as she returned to the side of the cargo plane, cuddled up among the sacks of various belongings, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
Los Angeles time was early Wednesday morning when they landed. The cars were already dispatched to pick them up from the airstrip. Kendall and Will stood alongside a twitching Marshall as they stepped into the joint task center. "What's going on?" Jack asked at the awkward reception.
"Marshall?" Kendall looked to the genius to speak.
Marshall rung his hands together, "I heard about that explosion Syd, pretty loud, huh? I hope you're okay. You too, Mr. Dixon, and of course Mr. Vaughn -"
"*Marshall*!" the FBI director barked. "The *point*."
"We lost the signal. Someone either removed or deactivated both our tracking devices."
"I thought you said it was foolproof," Jack snapped.
Marshall turned red in the face, "I thought they were."
Sydney sank into a desk chair and looked at the group. "They both set us up. This is another part of their sick plan," she shook her head. "Everything, the bomb and the meeting with Young . . . She was probably working with Young and Sloane from the beginning."
"But now we have reason to believe you were being held in Rome, or else there'd be no reason to destroy evidence," Kendall countered.
"Whether or not you like it Miss Bristow, you are your mother's weak spot, we have you and now we have leverage on her."
Sydney shook her head and rested her face in her hands. "How could I believe her?"
Kendall softened, "Why don't you take the day off Agent Bristow. Recuperate from jet lag. We don't need you here today."
"I think that's a good idea Syd," Will agreed.
"Sydney?" Jack beckoned. When she looked up she nodded and slowly stood, aware that all of their eyes were on her.
"If we find something Agent Bristow, we'll contact you," Kendall promised.
"I'm going," she agreed. She hugged Will and thanked Marshall and disappeared from the joint task center.
Spending a beautiful day inside sulking was not an option. Instead she returned to her father's house, where she changed and then drove to the track. Using her alumni card, she was easily allowed access to the track that she had made countless runs around. The track where she'd told Will that she was engaged to Danny; a track that felt more like home than many other places. Alone, she began running, surprised at her own speed. The speed, the feel of the track, firm and steady underneath her running shoes, allowed her to begin to feel the letdown that went with the disastrous pieces that were her life.
Halfway in the sky, the sun broiled down on her when she finally sat down on the grass. Soaked through her clothes, she took a sip from her water bottle as her cell phone rang. She groaned and reached for it, wondering what the hell Kendall could possible have to tell her. Less than five hours had passed since she'd left the joint task center. Not even someone as unsympathetic as Kendall could expect that to be adequate time to help her clear her mind.
"Hello?" she replied, brushing the sweaty tendrils away from her face.
"Sydney," a familiar feminine voice spoke.
"What do you want?" she demanded through gritted teeth, suddenly relieved no one else was on the track.
"I'm sorry Sydney, I never wanted to deceive you, but this is the only way -"
"The only way?" Sydney spat over the words. "How's it go mom? Screw me once, shame on you, screw me twice, shame on me?"
"I'm only doing this to help you."
"To help me? How many times do you expect me to trust you? How many seconds chances do you want?" she snapped, blinking back her own tears.
"I have contacts Sydney, people who will *never* talk to the CIA. People who can help me find Sloane, to uncover what happened to you -"
"You expect me to believe that? The CIA believes that this was all another elaborate set up, that you had this planned with Young and Sloane since the beginning. There was a bomb in the villa Mom, two minutes later and I would be dead. Or was that part of your plan from the beginning?"
"I am your *mother*, you will not speak to me in that tone!" Irina harshly replied.
Sydney laughed bitterly, "You are not my mother. Not anymore. Maybe you never were. You are on a single quest to understand Rambaldi. To you I'm just a pawn in that. I don't want to be that anymore, not to you or to anyone," she explained. "And when you see Sloane, tell him I look forward to being the one to pull the switch when the U.S. government kills him," she finished and abruptly hung up her phone.
From the moment he got into the car, he knew she had a seven hour lead on him. Seven hours from the time she left the CIA until the time he was free for the day. Jack was still working, strategizing with Kendall, Will and a handful of the CIA's best minds. He was only slightly amused that they didn't consider him part of that elite group. Perhaps he was too close to the case, but if that was true, then certainly it extended to Will and Jack as well. Still, he wasn't going to beg for more overtime, he had accumulated more than enough since Sydney's return. There were far more important things on his mind.
He swung by the apartment to give Donovan cool water and fresh food as well as to change. The jeans and T-shirt were comfortable and the only things he had that were clean. His laundry was another victim of Becky's departure, most of his casual clothes tossed into the hamper waiting to be cleaned. Then it was back into the car. The list of her favorite haunts was as clear in his mind as though he'd only driven by all of them yesterday. Too early for the restaurant, and the newly fallen rain disqualified everything short of the train station. With the car parked and securely locked, he pushed through the quickly moving riders, scanning the seats. Eventually he walked through the lobby of the train station three times, just to insure that she wasn't there, in case he'd done the unimaginable and overlooked her in the crowd. Finally, just before six he left, aware that if she had been there, she was long gone.
Returning to the apartment before he found her was not an option his mind or heart would allow. Instead, he drove around the city, even passing by the warehouse on the off chance she'd be there. The rain limited her choice of sanctuary, and when he called Will's cell phone he wasn't surprised to learn that the man was at the restaurant but hadn't seen her. Not caring that he was running low on gas, he drove by any place he could think of in his search for her. After a quick drive and hurried walk through some of her former UCLA haunts, he still had no idea where she could be. The car clock read just after nine as he slid into the car, one last destination in mind before he gave in and called Jack Bristow.
Usually they had pee wee hockey games at the rink on Wednesday nights, but it was either over or canceled by the time he pulled into the parking lot. There were only two other cars there, one a government issued sedan and the other, a Blazer he knew belonged to the rink owner. If the sound of the door opening and slamming shut bothered her, she didn't indicate it as she skated gracefully along the ice, using her hockey stick to absently play with the buck. Vaughn sighed in relief to have finally found her. Silently he leaned against the edge of the rink, watching her move easily.
"She called me," Sydney explained, not bothering to look at him. "She called me, saying that this was for me, that she has contacts that will never talk to the CIA . . . Still, it doesn't really matter, does it? She still lied to me, betrayed my trust. Who knows what her motives are," she sighed. Then softer she added, "We'll probably never know."
"Syd," his voice slid effortlessly over the nickname. "I was looking for you," he confessed as she continued to skate. With nothing else left to ask, he returned to the default question. "How are you feeling?"
The question jarred her as she stopped moving. Even though a few meters distanced them, she glared at him from her stance on the ice. "I don't know how to feel Vaughn, okay?" she snapped. "I don't know how to do this. This isn't something they ever taught me in college or even training for SD-6. What the hell do you expect me to do? I wake up to find I've lost two years, one of my best friends is dead, the other is *still* struggling with emotional baggage, my father was put in a wheelchair by some sociopath hell-bent on destroying my life, and my boyfriend is married to another woman! What, exactly, do you suggest I do? My mother turns herself in again, I foolishly allow myself to trust her because she *claims* to want to help, but then she conveniently arranges to disappear again. I let her screw me over, again, but she's just icing on the cake at this point because right now I feel like the entire world has screwed me over."
Fueled by the anger directed at him, he stepped onto the ice, easily gaining his balance as he gave her a strong look of his own. "What would you have me do Syd? I thought you were dead. For half a second, try to imagine what that did to me! Jesus! Do you think I got married to spite you? I was doing my damnedest to move on. This hasn't been easy for me, this hasn't been easy for any of us. No one's disputing that you are in hell right now, but don't make me the bad guy. I want to help you, I'm *going* to help you, so stop pushing me away."
Her voice was controlled, but the anger was obvious as her fingers shook when she replied, "You got over me Vaughn. Less than two years without a body and you got over me. How is that supposed to make me feel? Everything else . . . The changes I can deal with. Losing Francie hurts but I can deal with it. And I am the one who allowed my mother to hurt me again -"
"You didn't."
"I did," she corrected, her voice growing steadily less harsh. "I can cope with my father and the CIA and Will, hell even Sloane . . . This . . ." she motioned with her free hand to the seemingly endless space between them. "You were the one change I never would have imagined, and you're the one change I don't know how to adjust to."
"Becky's gone."
"Maybe physically, but we both know it's not that simple. She's still there. You still married her . . ." her head shook as her eyes dropped to the ice. "I'm a spy, I should know better than to have expectations, to make further plans..."
"You still did," he softly voiced. Hesitantly she looked up at him and nodded.
"I was so stupid," she sniffled and shook her head. "So stupid. I *knew* better. What was I thinking? Nothing ever goes that well, especially not for me -"
"Syd," he sighed. There was no falter in his step as he slowly approached her, cautious of the ice beneath him. Then there was only relief on his features as she fell into his arms.
"You hurt me," she spoke, the conviction obvious despite the tears.
"Yeah," he closed his eyes, one hand soothing her back as the other one ran through her hair. "I know."
"I don't know how to get past that Vaughn," she swallowed the rock in her throat. "My mother..."
"Maybe," he struggled to speak, desperate to calm her fears despite his own doubts. "Maybe she's telling the truth. Maybe she'll use her freedom to get in touch with her contacts, to find Sloane."
Sydney was silent, so in their own little world, he allowed himself to hold her. There, she could lose herself in her tears before she could continue the painful process of building herself up again. Once upon a time they had been joined together, hands and legs, eyes and lips, neither quite sure where they ended and the other began. Neither even caring. This was different, comfort and compassion, safety from the storm. That was something he would never deny her. Two years might have passed, but his feelings for her weren't controlled by a switch; they weren't something he could easily flip on and off. While it was the same problem that had caused him to nearly lose his position at the CIA on more than one occasion, it was something he never would have changed.
"How did you find me?" she asked finally, pulling back to look at him.
Vaughn chuckled, "It wasn't easy. This was the last place I thought of."
"I can't believe you'd remember this place," she sighed and rested her face back against the fabric of his sweater.
"I remember," he softly promised, his hand running over her hair as he absently pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
"I should probably get back to my father's house, he'll wonder where I am," she absently remembered, her voice still muffled by the cotton of his shirt. Reluctantly she pulled out of his arms as he let go of her. "I should use the bathroom," she self-consciously wiped the tears from her eyes.
"I'll wait for you."
"You don't have to -"
"Syd, I'll wait for you," he stopped her. Sydney smiled and nodded as she skated off of the ice towards the rest rooms.
He was talking to the owner when she reemerged, her face its normal shade, and her eyes not quite as blood shot. Vaughn finished his conversation, promising to be by later in the week. They were silent as he walked her outside, holding doors for her and looking everywhere but at the temptation of her free hand. Even after he held her car door for her, smiled at her and said that he'd see her tomorrow, there was one thing that she remembered most vividly. One moment of their brief time together between the rink and the car that stuck out the brightest. A tiny little detail that she had noticed when she returned from the bathroom.
His wedding ring was gone.
