CHAPTER TWO – SWALLOW

Sydney couldn't speak.  How?  What?  She wanted to ask, but her throat just wouldn't cooperate.  Did he just say what I thought he said?  She forced herself to swallow hard and breathe three deep, slow breaths. 

"Wh-what did you say?"  She looked up at his unwavering gaze, not believing her ears.

"Sydney, I said I love you.  I've always loved you.  That didn't just stop – not even after two years."  Vaughn shook his head, knowing the worst was yet to come.  "Will you just listen to me now?  Will you please let me explain?"

She numbly nodded her head, allowing Vaughn to pull her back up into her chair.  He paced in front of her, struggling for his own words.

"Like I tried to explain before, that night – the night you fought Allison – I came back to pick you up for Santa Barbara.  I walked in and saw the mess everywhere…"  He paused, reliving the gruesome destruction the fight between Sydney and the person imitating her roommate had left. 

"I saw her on the floor, but she wasn't responsive.  I looked everywhere and found Will…" Sydney's sucked in a sharp gasp at the mention of her friend, remembering the horror she had found – Will in the bathtub, dripping blood – just like Danny.  Vaughn nodded, seeing the same picture in his head, and continued.

"He was unconscious, but still alive.  Allison had stabbed him in the abdomen with a kitchen knife, but missed the important organs and blood vessels."  Seeing Sydney's horrified expression, he quickly spoke to ease her apprehension.  "The medics got there quickly, pumped him up with O-neg, and took him straight to the CIA hospital.  He woke up the next day and it didn't take much physical therapy to get him up and around."

Glancing up at her relieved expression, Vaughn summoned the courage to go on. 

"I looked all around the apartment.  I knew you had to have fought the double – Will didn't have the training to put up that kind of fight with a trained agent – I just couldn't find you anywhere."  His voice rose, recalling the panic of that night. 

"I called Jack, but he was still recovering from his encounter with Sloane.  A forensics team from the agency came in and did a work up on your place.  They found… your blood… all over…"  He closed his eyes and scrunched his forehead as he rubbed it tiredly.  "But there was a concentration next to a shattered mirror in the same room where we found Allison.  Your gun was there, but you weren't…"

"When Will woke up, he told us who Francie really was.  And when she… I mean, Allison, woke up…"

"No!"  Sydney whispered the exclamation with a desperate look on her face.

"Your shots weren't fatal, and when we found her, we still thought she was Francie.  Once Will explained the situation, we needed Allison to figure out what may have happened to you.  When she was coherent, we found… ways… to get her to talk."  He smiled weakly, "It turns out genetic doubles have a few more weaknesses – dependencies – than your average spy.  Under pressure she told us about your fight… Eventually we determined she was telling the truth when she said the last she recalled was you shooting her."

Sydney nodded, "That's the last thing I remember, too.  So, what happened?  Did Sark know anything?"

"No," Vaughn shook his head and resumed pacing behind her.  "We tried everything.  I ran myself and everyone I saw ragged for weeks.  Both Jack and Will were out in the field, both before they were fully recuperated, and Will without a clue as to what he was doing.  A contact of a contact of a contact reported seeing you in a church in Munich.  Then we heard something in Caracas, and then in Okinawa… it just kept going on and on."

He stopped and looked at her.  Yes, she's really here.  Ok, here we go

"I stopped taking care of myself.  I wasn't eating and I was waking myself up with stronger stuff than coffee.  There just wasn't time…  And then… they…"

He paused.  Breathing in the deep, slow, and rhythmic manner his study in martial arts had trained him to; he remembered the worst moment in his life.

"You were dead," he hoarsely whispered.  Even though she was here, now off her chair and standing in front of him, the pain of that moment would never be gone from his heart's memory.  She wrapped her arms around his neck. He allowed himself to take comfort in the fact that she was just there, with him, and he held her closer and tighter. 

"In Tijuana… there was a body… unidentifiable… your locket…"  He broke down, reclutching her tighter to him between heart-wrenching sobs.  She held him, stroking his hair.  She wanted to sooth him, but she still needed answers.  One answer in particular.

"Vaughn, shh…  It wasn't me.  I'm right here."

His head whipped up as she spoke.  "But Syd, I didn't know that!  After eight months of dead ends, this was the only tangible piece of evidence we had discovered… and it said you were dead!"  Vaughn's arms were waving frantically as he moved erratically around the room.  "I couldn't take it.  Jack never believed, and I didn't want to, but I couldn't keep on with the searching.  It was literally and figuratively killing me."

"I needed to get out."  He stopped, looking her full in the face, with an expression Sydney couldn't quite identify.  "A year ago I requested a deep-cover assignment.  They sent me here – to Hong Kong…"  He stopped again, turning away from her and staring at the floor.

"Vaughn…?  Michael, what is it?"

"Sydney, I know I don't need to explain to you the specifics of a swallow mission…"

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