*muah* Thanks for sticking with this 'fic, guys. Your thoughts really mean so much to me! :) Keep 'em coming! I hope you like this next part. It's a bit shorter than the rest, but I'll make up for that in the last part. Enjoy!
Bleed For Me – Part 4 of 5
By Abby O. (abbyo3@hotmail.com)
I hate traffic jams. I hate them with a smoldering passion. The guy next to me is sitting in his silver BMW convertible blasting some rap song by that half dollar guy. The song seems to be called "Patiently Waiting," which is ironic considering how fucking impatient I'm getting. Not to mention that it's a Saturday, a day that I'm supposed to not be working. That doesn't mean that I would've been doing anything productive in my spare time, but it's the principle of the thing. Kendall called me in for some emergency and because of his impeccable timing, I missed the last half of Sports Center.
That's exactly what my life has come to. Sports Center. Chinese take-out. Donovan.
Since Sydney's return to work, we've shared a few words with one another. Very few. There's always that heavy uncomfortable cloud hanging over us whenever we're even in the same room, which has been an infrequent occurrence. A few times, I've tried to talk to her about...well, everything...but when I finally work up the courage to, she says she has to go or something else comes up. Weiss advised me to just go over to her place and see her, make it so that she has no way out, but I can't do that. I don't want to pressure her into talking about something that she very well may not be ready to talk about.
A loud honk abuses my ears and I look at my rearview mirror to find a teenager with his head out the window saying all sorts of kind words. "No, you did NOT just honk at me," I mutter to myself, trying to keep from flicking him off. Does it look like the traffic is moving, kid? Do you actually THINK that your persistent and ridiculous honking is going to make everyone zoom through the line of cars that are all not moving?!
Breathe, Mike. Inhale. Exhale.
So, I'm a in a little bit of a bad mood. It's warranted, right? Things aren't exactly too peachy in my life and now I'm being called in on a Saturday.
I finally arrive at the building and hurriedly make my way up to my floor. When I push the doors open, I find a good amount of people walking around rapidly with serious looks on their faces. And why are they looking at me like that? I walk through the bullpen and am immediately met by Weiss, who has definitely seen better days judging by his expression.
"Vaughn—"
"What's going on?" I don't like that look. I know that look. It's the I've-got-bad-news-the-size-of-J Lo's-Ass look.
"It's Sydney."
My insides drop immediately and I have a sinking feeling that I'm not going to like what I'm about to hear. "What about her? Is she okay?" I knew the basic information about the mission she undertook in Sweden; how she had to find and interrogate an international crime lord who might have an idea on Arvin Sloane's current whereabouts.
"Vaughn, she's gone missing," Weiss informs me.
I feel like I can't breathe. She's *missing*?! This can't be happening. Not now. Please god, not again. I spot Kendall walking briskly towards us and I meet him halfway. "What the hell happened?!"
"We lost contact with Agent Bristow a couple hours ago. She said she was in a forest near the outskirts of Ostersund. She was held captive at a cabin, presumably being run by a group of Henrik's men, and she managed to escape—"
"Is she hurt?" I ask, hearing my own voice begin to falter.
"We don't know. Our conversation was cut off abruptly."
"I'm going to Sweden."
"Agent Vaughn, I know—" Kendall begins.
"No! I am not losing her again!" I shout as the entire room falls silent. My breathing has become considerably heavier than when I walked in here and I couldn't give a damn about the numerous pairs of pitying eyes that are staring at me. "I'm going to Sweden, with or without your consent or your help," I say through gritted teeth.
"You're doing it without either. Devlin has been breathing down my neck about sending teams blindly into dangerous zones and until Sydney contacts us with some sort of a location, I can't risk—"
"She gave you a location!" I counter.
"That spans miles upon miles! Not to mention that Henrik's men have been known to be ruthless and they're located mostly in central Sweden...if Henrik was to get word of how valuable Sydney is to us, if he hasn't figured it out already, he's no doubt going to intensify his search!"
"Meanwhile, our own search is non-existant," I spit back angrily.
"We have a lot of guys working on re-establishing contact with her, Vaughn. We'll make a move when we have information that's more concrete. "
There is no way in hell that I'm going to sit around here and listen to static on a headset. I walk out of the bullpen and out to my car, making sure that my bag of gear was still in my trunk. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket as I begin my drive to the airport.
"Weiss," he answers.
"Weiss, it's me. I'm going to contact you when I find her so we can set up an extraction."
"Are you sure it's so safe to be doing this by yourself, Vaughn? You're gonna get yourself killed!"
"Please spare me the lecture right now. I need to find her and you of all people should understand that."
"I know," he says solemnly.
"Why the hell wasn't I assigned to help in this case in the first place?!"
No answer.
"Weiss?"
"She requested that you be as least involved in her missions as possible."
"She what?" I don't want to think that I've become that unbearable. Especially when I haven't even had one decent conversation with her! "When?!"
"A couple of weeks ago. Vaughn, cut her some slack, man..."
I cut him off before he can continue. "Just wait for my call, okay?"
"You better pack some winter gear or something. It's gotta be thirty degrees up there."
"Thanks mom, but you'd be surprised of what's already in my trunk."
"Knowing you? A Wal-Mart, an arsenal, and a Best Buy combined."
* * * * * * *
It's cold. Too cold. I lost contact with the CIA only a few minutes ago when one of Henrik's men kicked the communication device out of my hands. After quietly shooting him with my silencer, I continued my trek into the dark forest, my only guide being my senses and the moonlight. There are cuts on my face and my hands along with some fresh bruises from my escape. I think I've lost most of them...and only now am I feeling the pain and overwhelming fatigue. Pain is shooting up my right leg whenever I take a step through the inches of snow that are already frozen on the ground.
After what seems like hours of walking, I finally decide that I need to stop. If I don't make a fire soon, I'm going to freeze to death and I absolutely refuse to die here. I find a tiny clearing amidst all the bare trees, deciding that it was a semi-safe place. And if it wasn't, I'll deal with it when I need to. I begin rubbing two sticks together and pretty soon, I have a small fire going.
I look at my surroundings and hear the coalesced sounds of nature and loneliness. I pull my knees to my chest and try to gather as much warmth from the fire as I can. What I would give for a boyscout right now...
Boyscout.
Okay, for one particular boyscout.
If I wasn't so cold, I'd probably start crying. I miss him...so much. More than I've missed anyone in my entire life. I've been walking around these past few weeks like my other half, my partner in crime was missing.
Hopelessness is becoming an unsolicited habit.
I'm not surprised that now, in the face of death, he still manages to invade my thoughts. A part of me is insisting that he will find me, but there are countless odds stacked against the notion. It wouldn't be the first time, but things are different now. Before I can dismiss the idea, exhaustion takes over me and my eyes fall shut.
* * * * * * * *
I've been hiking through these woods, my eyes half glued to the blue screen of my handheld GPS navigator. For hours, I've kept walking, looking for any sign at all of her. I wasn't going to stop until she was beside me. Screw the fact that we haven't talked. Screw the fact that our relationship is in shambles right now. All of that almost seems so trivial compared to finding her alive and alright. Knowing Sydney, she's probably killed about ten guys right now who have threatened to get in her way. But she isn't invincible. She gets hurt. She can be vulnerable. She bleeds just like anybody else. I often catch myself wanting to think that she's indestructible, but the notion quickly falls back into the naïve-thinking category.
I'm not angry that she's requested that I be removed from her missions. In fact, I understand why she would've done it. There's no way that I can even begin to imagine the kind of hell she's going through, but it doesn't stop her actions from feeling like a stab in the gut. At one time, long ago, she used to be able to call me in the middle of the night when she felt like crap and I would've bolted so fast out of my door that I would've forgotten to put my shoes on. Then when we were together, I could just...hold her. We'd lie down in bed, I'd take her into my arms, she would shut her eyes, I'd kiss her temple and assure her that everything would be okay. And it felt good. It felt so good to know that she could count on me and that she expected to count on me.
Now, it seems as if she goes out of her way to make it clear that she no longer needs me and the possibility of that being true is as excruciating as losing her.
I look around me and can see nothing but the silhouettes of trees cloaked in the darkness. The moon softly bathes my surroundings with light and for that, I'm thankful for.
I pray that whatever condition she's in, that she's hanging on. We have too much unfinished business and even more unspoken words that need to finally be said. You can't leave me now, Sydney.
Not now.
* * * * * * * *
End Part 4
