There were many rumors that were spread about Arvin Sloane; most of them were deliberate misconceptions.

His wife's circle of friends believed he had a secret mistress in Moscow.

The gardener thought he was hatching a plan to take over Microsoft.

Many of the low level employees speculated about when he would join politics, aiming for the presidency. The irony of this did not escape him.

There was one rumor however he actively encouraged, especially amongst his subordinates. 

Sloane hated to lose.

The director of SD-6, which was known by all but a selected few as Credit Dauphine, grimaced as fire made snaking trails up his trembling limbs. Nausea churned under his tightening abdominal cavity. Sloane sank into a chair, wincing as a particularly violent spasm wracked the newly attached index finger.

The most optimistic of his doctors had given him two months. McKenas Cole's "fire needles" and their ultimate effects were newly classed in three stages. Stage one involved painful but controllable muscle spasms characterized by loss of motor function. His nerves would gradually disintegrate. By stage two, he would no longer be able to consciously stop the increasingly severe seizures and, in addition, and his primary systems would begin to go into survival mode.

 He was, to put it dramatically, burning to death.

Sloane clenched his teeth resolutely. He wasn't going to think about stage three

Cole and "The Man" were not going to win.

"Sydney, wait a moment please."

Sydney returned to her seat and waited until the rest of the agents had filed from the room, leaving her alone with her father.  Judging from the expression on his face, it was not going to be a nice family bonding session.

"What the hell were you trying to pull in there?" Jack Bristow's voice was dangerously quiet as he activated the pen device.

"I wasn't pulling anything, Dad, just querying the mission parameters. Have you seen the way Sloane is acting?" Sydney voice was a sharp hiss. They were both aware of how little time they had.

Jack knew that Sydney was right.  In all the years that he had known Arvin Sloane, he had never seen him so blindly ruthless. Ruthless yes, to the point of being obsessed, but Sloane had always been cautious; always one-step ahead in the planning. Now Sloane had become completely fixated on anything remotely connected to Sark and the mysterious group he represented. At the moment, that tied in with their mission scope, but it wouldn't be long, Jack feared, before Sloane erratic behavior began to have serious consequences.

"Get in touch with Vaughn. See if you can get any information on the Alliance's replacement procedures"

"You think it'll come to that?" Sydney asked her eyes wide.

"At the moment, what he doing ties in perfectly with the commands of his superiors, but if they hesitate to remove him when it doesn't…" Jack regarded his daughter sternly. "Sloane has an affection for you, Sydney, and it has dulled his suppositions, particularly after your recent actions. You will have no such safe cushion if he is replaced. Loyalty is fluid as far as the upper levels of the Alliance are concerned."

Sydney nodded curtly.

Taking a deep breath she followed her father out of the briefing room. Her mind was where it was often, in two places. One side of her was trying to figure out her best friend's sudden unexplained cheerfulness, while the other was automatically memorizing the intricate details of Marshall's latest piece of technology.

"Hey Syd, guess what?" Dixon's familiar voice called out as he joined her at the vending machine.

Sydney slipped her coins into the slot before she regarded her coworker. Dixon's face was alight with a brilliant smile that some how managed to pull her from her thoughts that inevitably returned to a certain CIA handler the seemed to haunt her every waking moment.

"Diane's pregnant!" Dixon burst out, enveloping Sydney in an embrace filled with joy and enthusiasm.

"That's wonderful, congratulations!" Syd felt an overwhelming sense of happiness for her friend. She knew how he and his wife had wanted another child.

Dixon let out a weary sigh "She's gonna kill me when she finds out how many trips I'm scheduled for. Do you have any idea why it's become so heavy?" Dixon asked as they strolled to their desks.

"Probably the introduction of a new player." Sydney said, not wanting to dwell on the subject.

"I just hate lying to them," her partner sighed, "I know its for the good of the country but it's hard sometimes, you know?" he said this almost to himself, but Sydney heard him.

She had to swallow hard against the bile burning her throat.

"So tell me about the newest addition."

***

Michael Vaughn awoke with a start. The sweat slid down his forehead and his old Kings T-shirt clung to his heaving chest. He wasn't sure what had awakened him, but he was eternally grateful for the respite, however brief.

The dreams were always the same. They started with a random scene from his childhood and ended with him standing over his father's lifeless body, staring in horror at those eyes that were so familiar and beloved.

If he ever became insane enough to tell Barnett about the dreams, the shrink would give a spiel on post-traumatic stress, but there was no way he was going to subject himself to that; he had enough to deal with without being analyzed.

With a shuddering sigh, Vaughn got out of bed, mopping his sweaty brow with a trembling hand before stumbling to the kitchen, glancing at the softly glowing clock as he went.

9: 30

Could it really be so early?

Donovan's sharp bark finally penetrated Michael's sleep fogged brain. His English Pit Bull was crouched by the front door in a defensive stance. As he moved to see what had upset the usually placid sleeper, Michael heard the sound of agitated breathing and muttered cursing.

Instantly on alert, the CIA officer moved to the keyhole, peering into a familiar pair of bright blue eyes belonging to his cousin, Matt Coleman. At that moment Vaughn was reconsidering the best friend status, but he opened the door anyway.

"What have you been doing?" Matt asked, "I've been trying to get you to call off that damn dog for the last 15 minutes." Matt spared a hostile glance for the canine before focusing his intense gaze on his best friend.

"Mike, we have got to get you out and having some fun." He declared instantly. "You are way too young to be hunched over paperwork on a Friday night."

"Not tonight Matt." Michael said firmly, trying to ignore the pounding in his head as he sat down on the couch.

Matt instantly turned serious. He had being staying with Michael for the last month.  During that time, his counseling training had sharpened his awareness of the obvious signs that something was eating away at the man he considered like a brother.

"Who is she, Michael?" Matt asked softy.

Vaughn was rarely grateful for his CIA training outside of work, but he was now. Keeping his face carefully neutral, he met his friend's gaze steadily.

"Don't try an play Cupid, Matt, there is no girl." That I can ever have, he added silently. He was actually rather pleased with how convincing his voice sounded. He should have known it wouldn't have fooled Matt.

"I won't push you, but you know I'm here if you need to talk, right? Aunt Maggie would kill me if I didn't look out for her baby boy." He added the last part with a knowing grin.

Michael smiled faintly. He could always rely on his mother and her co-conspirator to look out for him even if he wanted to be lost. He had come to suspect that Matt's spontaneous stay had been orchestrated by his mother, worried about him and his solitude. He could almost picture her instructions. "Get my Michael settled down with some nice girl. I want grandchildren before the grave."

I met the perfect girl, Mom. We're just several major and dysfunctional leaps away from Romeo and Juliet

"Who's Sydney?"

Vaughn froze.