Part 6.
The song is Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd
So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell
Vaughn opened the sliding door and let himself out onto the balcony. The air was warm and the scent of flowers almost overpowering. He glanced at the setting sun and saw it reflected off of the ocean in the distance. This could have been paradise, he thought to himself. It could have been but because of matters that had nothing to do with the scenery and tranquility of the mountain range it wasn't. He took a seat on an elegantly wrought iron chair, lost in his thoughts. He didn't even hear the maid approach.
"Signore Vaughn, lei amerebbe qualcosa per bere?"
Vaughn jumped at the sound, his mind racing, trying to translate the Italian. "No, grazie."
The maid turned away unhappily and left him to his thoughts. They were in Sardinia, Italy at the villa of Signore Marco Torrinni. Marco was an old friend of Vaughn's father and even after thirty years, he had been more than happy to help his old friend's son out. He had been able to provide lots of help including arranging transportation for them to 30,000 feet above the old military compound in Valencia, Spain tonight.
He fiddled restlessly with a leaf that had blown on his lap and his thoughts wandered back to their escape out of Washington. To his shock, Irina had been able to provide a contact that was able to make them papers and passports within half an hour, it had only taken a trip to a rather shady part of town. He hadn't been paying attention to where Will was driving, only that he had stopped at a phone booth so that Irina could make a phone call. After that he had heard brief instructions being given and suddenly he looked around at the scenery and found that they were in the north end of Washington DC.
Will stopped in front of a run down German laundromat. Vaughn remembered looking at his companions skeptically but Will had merely glared back at him while Irina ignored him. Overall, it had been a strange encounter. The owner, Mr. Bartul had practically fallen off his stool with shock at seeing Irina walk in. But for a man over seventy he managed to move with speed and agility and provided them with the means to leave the country. Within the hour they were at Dulles International Airport on the first international flight leaving directly out of the country. After a few connections they arrived in Italy.
It had been a harrowing trip. They were constantly looking over their shoulders, Irina was always giving them cryptic instructions and Will had just about eaten a complete bottle of antacids. Obviously Vaughn's lies had bought them some time, but they still arrived at Marco's doorstep with frayed nerves. After their arrival they managed to hammered out the details of the rescue operation and then gone their separate ways for two days, gathering all of the supplies. They would leave tonight at dusk. Until then he had a few more hours to himself.
He glanced around the scenery and thought sadly that if circumstances had been different, Sydney would have really enjoyed visiting here.
Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
The sand blew up into Will's face from the dirt road he was riding on. He pulled his moped off to the side and stopped the engine. The countryside resettled into silence as the dust settled. He hopped off the bike, removed his helmet and placed it on the handlebars. A mixture of wild olive trees and grass lined the side of the road and he made his way to the shade that the trees offered. As he settled himself in the grass he allowed himself to relax for the first time in three days. The area was deserted and except for the chirping of the birds there was nothing to interrupt him.
The past few days had pretty much ripped him apart from his comfortable existence and now part of their mission depended on him being comfortable with things that he had never experienced before. He'd never even jumped out of a plane before and tonight he was supposed to do it at 30,000 feet! He'd never even fired a gun at another human being before and yet tonight he would be carrying an automatic rifle. He felt more than slightly out of his element. He knew that he could have spoken up before this and that though Michael and Irina would probably have thought him a coward, they would have walked him through it a bit more. Instead he'd put on his brave face and they'd accepted it at face value.
Secretly, he was petrified about tonight. There were so many things that could go wrong – other than the free fall and his non-experience with automatic weapons. They had been able to find an old set of blueprints for the prison that Sydney was supposedly being kept in and used it to make their plans. But what if the blueprints were wrong? For that matter what if Sydney wasn't there? What if it was a trap so that Sark and Sloane could capture Vaughn? They were only going on Sark's word and Will had many reasons to despise and distrust Sark.
During his time as a reporter and later in his work with the CIA, Will had seen many horrible, horrible people. But of all the people that he had been repulsed by, he had never known this burning hatred for anyone except for Sark. Aside from the torture and kidnapping that he had suffered at Sark's hands, Sark had been responsible for Francie's death. It had taken some time to unravel the horrible, complicated web that he had spun, but they had, only to discover that the Francie that he had grown to love was dead. She had been shot in the head and replaced by an imposter. Will felt his fist clench as he thought of the past. They'd never even had a chance.
Sark had helped Sloane kill his family and several million innocent people by detonating the bomb in LA. He remembered vividly the destruction and chaos in the aftermath of that third bomb. He remembered trying desperately to find his family but it turned out that they had gone shopping for the day. He figured that they were probably within a ten mile radius from ground zero. They'd never had a chance either.
Now Sark was 'helping' them to find Sydney whom he'd probably helped kidnap in the first place. He had killed Francie and his family and then he had taken Sydney away from him too. Will felt his nails cutting into his palm. Sark had destroyed every single thing that he cared about. Because of Sark, his world was empty and meaningless. He didn't know what he could do against him, but he knew that if he ever got the chance he would strangle the life out of him with his bare hands. Sark had left him with nothing to lose.
Will concentrated on his anger and hatred. They were so severe that they left no room for fear. But he also knew that he was not as strong as Vaughn. He had seen Mike change, harden over the course of the last year, absorbing all the horror and tragedy. Will knew that if he focused his mind on his hatred of Sark though, he would be consumed by it. He knew that he wouldn't harden like Mike, or become amused like Irina. He knew that it would eventually destroy him.
And secretly that's what he feared the most. What if he wasn't strong enough to do what had to be done. What if he failed Sydney or Michael? They were the only two people left that he cared about. He knew that if he failed Irina, that she would merely flay him alive and move on, but if he failed his friends – he would never be able to live with himself.
Maybe his eventual destruction was simply the price he would have to pay for saving the last person he cared about.
He watched a bird fly between two trees and for a moment he envied the simplicity of its movements. As it glided onto a branch, he wondered if life could really be that simple. Was it just a matter of putting on his brave face and jumping forward? But secretly he wondered. Wasn't a bird ever scared to fly? Wasn't it ever scared that the price it paid for its freedom was too high? Did it ever worry that it might not find a place to land?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
Irina walked through the garden behind the villa. The exotic flowers filling the air with a calming sweetness. She inhaled deeply, swallowing in the peace like it was air and she was drowning. She thought that she should be used to it by now - the constant turmoil and chaos that seemed to be her life. But the truth of the matter was that she was tired. Tired of the lies, tired of being impenetrable, tired of thinking eighteen steps ahead. She was just tired.
She closed her eyes and inhaled again, trying to cleanse away her thoughts with her breath. But like a tide when it receded, she exhaled and her thoughts were left exposed like wet sand on the beach. Of all the thoughts swimming in her head, one in particular stood out in her mind. Maybe it was because it was what had started them on this route thirty years ago or maybe it was because she enjoyed talking to him, she didn't know. But she knew that she had lied to Vaughn again. She had told him the truth to redeem herself, but then she had lied to him.
She shook her head trying to banish the blood and death from her thoughts. She didn't want anything to taint her brief moment of peace. It was useless, though. The images came flooding through her mind regardless of the beauty around her.
Why did one more lie bother her? Did it really matter that his father was not dead when she got to the warehouse, like she had told him he was? He still took his own life, but did it matter that he had done it in front of her? She had watched his life-blood drain out of him and she had not stopped him. Did it matter that she had watched his body shudder in death and she had not called for help? She knew that there could have been no help. The blood had pooled around her feet; it had permeated her shoes and stained her clothes. She had worn William's blood like a hair shirt. She had understood the horror hinted at in the manuscript. She understood the sacrifice that he was making, but she also understood that she had brought that sacrifice upon him. Was it then really fair then to burden his son with these images?
"You promise me…" he had told her threateningly. William was a large man and she had been only a young woman then. He could have snapped her in two if he had chosen to.
"What?" she had asked quietly…desperately, in a futile attempt to ease his misery.
"You promise me that you will stop this madness from ever happening. Even if I destroy myself, there's nothing to say that someone else won't be able to bring it forth."
She remembered looking at him with confusion and a fear that she knew that he was talking about. "Agent Vaughn, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that you listen to me well," he grabbed her shirt collar and brought his angry face within a few inches of hers. "I'm going to end this here, right now, but you are going to make sure that no one can recover my body. Then you are going to find out who wanted that manuscript and you are going to stop them from ever bring forth this atrocity. Do you hear me?"
Irina nodded, frightened.
"Swear to me that you will!"
"I swear," she whispered her face drawn tight in fear and anguish. He let her go, not gently, and stepped back. Before she could think twice, or before he could lose his nerve, he plunged a small knife into his throat and drew it across.
Did his son need to know how his blood gurgled as it escaped through his wind pipe? She shook her head. No he didn't and she was strong enough to endure the secret. She probably shouldn't have told him as much as she did, but she had no time for regrets. She had to stop herself from liking him too much. He was still young and innocent and could therefore afford to be virtuous, but she didn't think she could bear to see his eventual dissolution. Because she knew he would not be so innocent after this was all over. None of them would be.
And did they get you to trade
Your heroes for ghosts?
Sydney looked at the cement walls that made her cage. The dirt was everywhere even on the walls. She went to her favorite corner and touched the walls with her fingertips. They felt rough, but they felt. They caused her to feel. She followed the wall down to where it met the floor. More cement. The floor was also rough. Her fingers traced an imaginary pattern in the uneven concrete.
She felt the emptiness inside her and she let it consume her. She remembered feeling loved once upon a time, but unlike the fairytales she had been dreaming about this one was true. She remembered someone caressing her cheek. She remembered someone kissing her hair. She remembered feeling so cherished that she thought she was a princess.
She clung to these feelings without seeking their source. Their source was gone but the feeling remained like echoes in the wind. She remembered someone kissing her lips with such gentleness that she thought she that had been kissed by an angel. In a way, she knew that she had been. Once upon a time ago.
She leaned her head against to cold cement. She could feel the pain in her head starting up again as it always did when she ventured too far back in the past. She let silent tears fall down her face as the only tribute she could pay to that which did not exist anymore. Because nothing existed anymore and she was empty.
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
Will parked the moped in one of the three garages and looked at his watch. It was time to start getting ready. Back in his room he was laying out his clothing for tonight on the bed when Vaughn knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Vaughn let himself in. "I just came in to make sure that everything is ok and to make sure that you were back."
Will nodded.
"Is everything ok?"
"Sure," replied Will with a touch of sarcasm and anger in his voice. Vaughn recognized his friend's fears and rested a comforting hand on Will's shoulder. Will shrugged it off and continued to sort through his personal gear.
"What are these stupid things for?" asked Will grabbing the string of beads that were hanging off of his utility vest.
"They're Ranger Beads," replied Vaughn patiently. He recognized that this was Will's attempt to make familiar to himself these things which he had never been involved with before.
Will looked at him surprised, his anger forgotten for a moment. "You mean they actually have a function?"
Vaughn smiled. "Yeah. They're kind of like an abacus. You can use them to count men, equipment or the number of paces you've taken while surveying the enemy or while out on a patrol." Vaughn demonstrated by moving all the beads to the bottom of the cord. He then moved one up at a time. The cord was thick enough that once the beads were moved up, it held them there.
"And I thought they were just for decoration." Will smiled at himself ruefully.
Vaughn smiled back in support. "Everything will be fine."
Will's face slowly hardened again. "How do you know?" he asked, trying to keep the panic from edging into his voice.
Vaughn thought about it for a moment and then answered it the only way he could. "Because if it's not, then it won't matter anyway."
Will looked away.
"It's all it can do." Vaughn added quietly.
Will watched as Vaughn left him alone in his room. He looked over his once alien equipment and took in a deep breath. Vaughn was right. Regardless of what happened, they would do what they had to tonight. And after it was all done, then they would deal with the consequences, whatever they might be.
He looked back to his gear and decided that perhaps he had one more reason to hate Sark. Sark had taken away everything he loved and now he was asking them all to sacrifice the only thing they had left. Themselves.
Will's mouth twisted in hatred. A final acceptance for the things about to come washed over him. Somehow after Sydney was safe, he would find a way to destroy Sark and make him pay.
With quick and precise movements to cover the last fears that he had, he started to dress. Tonight he would have to leave his fears behind because he could not afford the extra weight. Tonight he was determined to fly.
And did you exchange
A walk on part in the war
For a lead role in a cage?
Back in his room alone, Vaughn was once again left to his thoughts. He was scared about tonight as well, but not for the same reasons that Will was. He understood what had to be done and was well aware of the dangers that went along with it. He understood and accepted them. If they failed tonight, then nothing would matter anymore. However, what did frighten him was if they were successful.
He sat on his bed and hung his head in his hands. What would it be like looking into Sydney's eyes after a having failed her for almost a year? Would she hate him? Would she damn him for the torture she'd had to endure? Or would he hate and damn himself?
Would she blame him for the death of her father? Vaughn almost cried at the irony of it all.
He rubbed his forehead. Even if she didn't blame him and he managed not to hate himself too much, what kind of life was he rescuing her to? If she still loved him and wanted to be with him, where would they go? He could never go back to the CIA, he had just helped a fugitive escape federal custody. Wherever they went, they would forever be looking over their shoulder. She had always shunned the idea of going into the Witness Protection Plan whenever the topic came up.
Would she now accept a life on the run to be with him?
Vaughn sat on his bed and held his head in his hands. This was all he could do and he would do his part. After that, when she was free, she could choose her own path.
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl,
Year after year
Who was he kidding, he thought to himself. It would destroy him if she didn't forgive him, but how could they still have a future together. He found himself praying to a God that he claimed he didn't believe in anymore that somehow, they would find a way.
Vaughn was surprised to see that he gripped the small package that he always carried close to his heart. He knew he shouldn't open it. He knew it but he was helpless to stop himself. Inside, sitting on top of a piece of blue velvet sat a small gold ring. In the center of the ring was a heart-shaped sapphire with two small diamonds, one on either side.
She was his soul mate. In his mind he already called her his wife. In reality, he had never got the chance to ask her.
He remembered the first two months that she was missing. He had felt like someone had placed a void inside him making him incapable of feeling anything. He had felt nothing except this incessant drive to spend every waking hour at his desk or tracking down leads, anything to get some information on her whereabouts. Then he remembered the day they had traced the transmission and thought that he had located Sydney. The intel had come as a godsend and he had shattered. He had faced so many disappointments, so many dead ends that he had become numb. He'd felt like he was hitting his head against a brick wall that had him on one side and Sydney on the other. And no matter how hard he hit the wall it made no difference yet it was all he could do. The day analysis had decoded that conversation it was like a brick that had finally come loose. He had slumped on his desk and cried. Cried with relief, cried because for the first time in two months he'd felt something and he cried because what he felt was pure fear. Fear that he hadn't found the information in time, fear for the horrors she had suffered, fear for the pain that he had caused her by not finding her sooner and fear that he loved her so much that he would shatter if he didn't find her. That night, when he returned to his apartment, he had opened his sock drawer and pulled out a small wooden box. It was worn with age but well taken care of. He slid open the box and lifted from it the small gold ring.
It was slightly scratched from wear but the heart-shaped sapphire in the center still sparkled. It had two small diamonds on either side and he remembered his grandmother when she had given it to him, a few years before her death. "Michael," she had said, "I want you to have this ring that your grandfather gave me when he asked me to marry him." She had handed him the ring and he remembered looking at it like he looked at it that day in his apartment. "It's been in your grandfathers family for at least three generations, not counting you. I know it's not a typical engagement ring, Michael but you won't love a typical woman so it will suit her completely. The two diamonds will represent the pasts and the futures that the two of you will have, but you can't let them determine your love, they merely help your love to sparkle all the more, like the light the diamonds give t to the sapphire. When you find her Michael, love her. Love her so much that your soul hurts, then give her this ring."
That day he knew that he could give this ring to no other person. He took it to the jeweler to have it resized and polished and had carried it in his jacked, close to his heart, ever since.
Vaughn pulled out the black cargo pants and utility jacket that he would be wearing tonight. He looked at his watch. It was time to get dressed. Taking off his shirt triggered his memory back to nine months ago and the last time he had been preparing for a mission.
Two days after he had traced the transmission, him and Jack had been making the final preparations for their ops. In the change room, without thinking, Michael had taken the box out of his inside jacket pocket and placed it on the counter so that he could transfer it to his operational clothing. He had bent over to tie his boots and when he stood back up he noticed that Jack was staring at the box. It was obviously a jeweler's ring box and he could not pretend otherwise. Jack stared at the box; his mouth set in a thin line for a moment before turning his unyielding eyes towards him.
"Jack—"
But Jack raised his hand to stop him. He expression softened marginally but only in the way stone can soften. Jack had seen Vaughn's torment over the last few months. He had seen the pain that Vaughn had refused to feel, carved in his face.
"You love her." He stated.
The fear and anguish that he had been hiding for months came out. There was no room for doubts in his words. "I love her so much that my soul hurts."
Jack nodded in understanding, but not looking back at him. He was lost in his own world. After a moment he continued to pack his equipment and then he looked back at Vaughn and saw him standing still looking at him. It was obvious that Jack hadn't meant to say anything further but he decided to give him the only kind of approval he could. "You should give that to her the very next time you see her."
Vaughn nodded solemnly, pocketing the package in the chest pocket of his black utility jacket.
Vaughn shook his head to banish the past. There would be no next time if they were unsuccessful tonight. He had to dismiss his doubts. He knew what had to be done. Though he could feel the web of fate sticking to him like an old spider web, he knew what he had to do. It was all he could do, but he would do it.
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
Irina buttoned her utility jacket and checked her vest one last time. She decided to move the ammunition for her pistol from her waist pocket to the chest pocket. She checked the safety on her pistol before securing it in her side holster. She looked around the room to makes sure she wasn't forgetting anything, but she was ready to go.
She was slipping her glove over her left hand when she saw her wedding band sitting on her finger. Mr. Bartul had given it back to her. She had given the ring and other items of value to a friend of hers many years ago. The ring had been difficult to get back, the KGB had confiscated it when she returned from the United States, but she had. She had learned and then so had her KGB superiors learned that she could accomplish anything if she wanted to. Her friend had made sure that when she turned herself in to the CIA, that wherever she was located, there would be someone there who could help her if she got out and could give her back her treasures. For the first time in thirty years, she had put her wedding ring back on.
Jack had told her about the package that Vaughn carried. He had come to see her before he left on his last mission. She had seen such a strange look on his face, that it had taken her a moment to recognize it, he was at peace. There was no edge to him when he looked at her for the last time.
"Agent Vaughn tracked down Sloane. I'm going to go stop a bomb and he's going to rescue Sydney."
She had moved closer to him and put her hand up to the glass. "Be careful."
He shrugged away her concern. "He's going to marry her."
She smiled. "Good."
She remembered looking at him and suddenly understanding his peace. He was going to go do his job, but Sydney would be taken care of, better than either of them had ever managed to.
He looked at her calmly and tentatively raised his hand to hers across the glass. He didn't say a word and she was glad. Words were definitive and demanded that her past sins not be forgotten but a glance was intangible. His glance acknowledged the hurt that she caused him but it also acknowledged why he hurt. He had been hurt because he loved her, and therefore he knew that she still had the power to hurt him. They stood there for a few moments, looking at each other, trying to express thirty years of emotions with their eyes. Finally he stepped away from her prison.
"I will see you when this is over," he said and she waved softly at him as he left.
When Vaughn had come to see her a few days later to tell her that Jack was dead she knew that finally, the Pied Piper had come to collect on her. She only prayed that she could withhold the rest of her payments for a little while longer. She had to, or everything would be for not.
She felt a trickle of self doubt edging into her mind so she pulled the glove over her hand with a quick movement. She had chosen her path thirty years ago and now she would have to survive with the consequences. She was long past doubting herself. She had to be. There was no room in any of her clothes to carry regrets in. All her pockets were full of ammunition.
With one last look around she turned off the light and stepped out of her room.