Hey everybody--I'm back from my vacation and feeling very relaxed. Northern Minnesota is awfully nice! I wrote this chapter on a whim today, and I like it quite a bit. Hope you guys do, too. Please read and review, as always, and have a great day!
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Chapter 12
It was dark. Terribly dark. I could feel the sudden silence pressing in on me, suffocating me. I groped around in my vest pocket, relieved when my hand finally came to rest on my high-powered flashlight.
I flipped the switch, blinking as the beam illuminated Hallam's deserted office. Just as I had entered the office, the power had suddenly cut off, enveloping me in blackness. Somehow, the power outage had borken off my communication with Vaughn.
Luckily, he had been able to lead me to Hallam's office before we had lost contact. I knew I could handle it alone from here.
But I missed the comfort of his voice in my ear.
I sighed, shaking the thought from my mind. Now was not the time to get distracted. Someone had purposefully shut off the electricity, and they had done it for a reason. I had to work fast.
I moved quickly to the desk of Abdul Hallam, pulling open the bottom file cabinet, and groping around inside until my finger slipped across the indentation of a small button. I pressed the button, listening to the dry scraping sound behind me as a framed oil painting slid slowly away, revealing the front of a solid steel safe.
I laughed to myself. A safe hidden behind a painting. How original. I had expected more from an international terrorist.
I moved to the safe, opening it with a handy decoder given to me by an edgy CIA technician, who had reminded me very much of Marshall Flinkman.
The document I had come for was lying, unprotected, on top of a stack of papers. I grabbed the file, shut the safe, and quickly pushed the painting back into place. Taking a quick glance around the room, I checked to be sure that nothing was out of place. With a slight nod, I slipped out of the office, flipping off my flashlight beam as I left.
A simple smash and grab.
I smiled to myself as I heard heavy footsteps heading in the opposite direction. Despite how much I sometimes hated this job, I still got a thrill when things went so right. My thoughts drifted back to Vaughn, as I worked my way through the building to an exit. We had agreed earlier to meet at the CIA safehouse in Istanbul if we ever lost contact with each other, and as I hopped out of a first story window and into the darkness of the night, I headed in that direction.
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I arrived at the safehouse about twenty minutes later, relieved and grateful that, unlike Sloane, the CIA didn't insist that I wear stiletto heels and short skirts. My feet were killing me as it was, and I was wearing what could be considered comfortable combat boots.
I released a sigh of relief as I entered the old brick building, using a key we had been given before leaving for the mission. I climbed up three flights of stairs, arriving at the top floor apartment and knocking three times in rapid succession, then twice slowly.
I could hear movement from within, and I could imagine Vaughn rushing to the door, looking through the peephole to be sure that it was me. He opened the door smiling, but I could see the tenseness in his eyes. He had been worried.
I smiled broadly and brushed past him, anxious to get my feet and my throbbing leg off the ground. I heard Vaughn chuckle behind me, amused by my attitude.
"I assume everything went okay?" He asked, shutting and bolting the door behind him. The room was dim, lit only by a couple yellowed lamps on either side of an old orange couch. The place was a dump.
"Not a single problem, except for the power." I tapped my ear, where the com had been.
"Good," Vaughn said. "Hallam must have realized what was going on and cut the electricity."
I nodded. "It ended up helping me, anyways. It was so dark that the guards walked right past me and didn't even know it." I lowered myself onto the couch, groaning at the stiffness in my back. I was feeling better than I had the day before, but I was still exhausted, and the gash on my leg burned with pain every time I moved.
I made a move to unlace my boots, but Vaughn moved quickly in front of me, kneeling next to me and grabbing my food in his hand.
"Let me," he said.
"Vaughn…" I said, all at once touched and defensive at his words. "I can take off my own boots."
"I know you can," he said, chuckling. "But I can tell it hurts." He gestured to my injured leg and I hesitated, finally nodding, and acknowledging that the leg did hurt. Even more than the day before.
Vaughn quickly undid the laces of the boots, slipping them off and setting them side by side next to the couch.
"Mind if I look?" He asked, placing his hand on my injured calf. I couldn't help but wince at even the slight pressure of his palm against the wound. I nodded, realizing how nice it was to have someone take care of me.
He moved away for a moment, grabbing a first aid kit from an otherwise empty kitchen cabinet. When he returned, he motioned for me to spin around on the couch, and I did, leaning my back against the armrest. He sat down beside me, moving my legs slightly, and then placing them down across his lap.
My heart fluttered at the gesture, and, as he pushed up the loose leg of my pants, his hand running along my leg, my breath stopped completely.
"Sydney…" he breathed, looking up at me with obvious concern. I glanced down at my leg, and I was taken aback by how bad it looked. It was worse than I had anticipated. The gash was red and deep, extending from just below my kneecap to the left side of my calf. The cut was outlined with a deep bluish purple bruise. "You didn't even put anything on it?" Vaughn asked, reaching into the first aid kit to pull out peroxide, cotton balls, and some bandages.
"I didn't realize it was so bad," I said, feeling sheepish. My eyes teared up as Vaughn lightly dabbed some peroxide onto the cut with a cotton ball.
It was true. I hadn't realized the extent of the wound. At the time it had seemed like any other gash I had received. I usually left them alone and they healed after a week or so.
"You're lucky it hasn't gotten infected," he said, a sharpness in his voice that I hadn't been expecting. Tears again sprang to my eyes, partly from his harsh words, and partly from the sting of the peroxide. He glanced up as I sniffed back a tear, his eyes softening.
"I'm sorry," he said, absently stroking my ankle with his free hand. "I just worry about you."
I nodded. "I know." And I did know. He would never hurt me. And the only times he had ever spoken harshly to me were when he was concerned about my welfare. I understood. I was the same way with him.
He smiled at me, one of those brilliant smiles that made his eyes sparkle. "Let me get this wrapped up, and you'll be good as new." He wrapped the gauze bandages around my calf securely, bent down, and placed a soft kiss on the area he had just covered.
"Better?" He asked. I blushed, and he grinned.
"Much better." We sat in silence for several moments, neither of us quite sure of what to say. I watched intently as Vaughn's hand stroked slowly up and down the calf of my uninjured leg.
"I'm glad you're here," I said finally. "You have no idea how boring it is to sit in one of these places alone for a day."
He nodded. "I can imagine."
"I had to stay in one for a week, once." I continued. "In Cairo." Vaughn grimaced, and I laughed at his expression. "I know," I said. I was having complete conversations with myself by the time the week was over."
This time it was Vaughn's turn to chuckle. "I would have liked to see that," he said. "I never knew you were quite that crazy." He grinned, and I smacked him on the arm.
"Shut up," I laughed. "You'd be talking to yourself too, if you were cooped up alone for a week." He smiled, accepting the statement.
"Seriously, though," he said. "I'm glad I'm here, too. I always hated the thought of you being stuck in these places by yourself. Especially when you were hurting." He rested his hand on my bandaged leg. We sat in silence again, and I could feel the exhaustion quickly catching up with me.
"Tired?" Vaughn asked. I nodded. He smiled. "I'll help you to the bed."
I shook my head. "I'm okay, really." To demonstrate, I lifted myself up from the couch, standing steadily on both legs.
"Sydney," he said, his voice firm. "Let me help."
I sighed, then nodded in resignation. He wrapped my arm around his shoulder, his hand supporting me at the waist. He insisted, even on the short walk to the dingy bedroom, that I keep all weight off of my leg.
His hand stayed on my waist until he had seen me safely to the bed. He grabbed a pair of sweats from a drawer and placed them on the bed next to me.
"Need anything else?" He asked, gauging my expression. I smiled, shaking my head.
"Okay," he said. "I'm going to change—" he gestured to the door of the bathroom, "and I'll hit the lights when I leave."
I nodded again, waiting until the door shut behind him to change into my sweats. Within moments, I was buried beneath the covers, almost overcome by sleepiness. I heard the bathroom door click open, and saw Vaughn, now clad in similar sweats, come out. He moved silently toward the light switch next to the bed, obviously under the impression that I was already asleep.
As he reached for the light, I grabbed his arm.
"Vaughn?" I mumbled, his arm warm and solid beneath my fingertips.
"Yeah?" he asked, his eyes concerned.
"Stay with me?" I asked, my voice timid. He smiled softly, and without another word, climbed into bed behind me. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, and I snuggled back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
After a few moments, before sleep overtook me, I turned my head slightly.
"Thank you," I murmured. He tightened his arms around me, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder, then at the base of my neck.
"Any time, Syd," he whispered. "Any time."
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Well, there it is. Chapter 12. Was it good, bad, ugly? If you choose ugly, please don't tell me. I'll cry. lol. Reviews, please!!
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Chapter 12
It was dark. Terribly dark. I could feel the sudden silence pressing in on me, suffocating me. I groped around in my vest pocket, relieved when my hand finally came to rest on my high-powered flashlight.
I flipped the switch, blinking as the beam illuminated Hallam's deserted office. Just as I had entered the office, the power had suddenly cut off, enveloping me in blackness. Somehow, the power outage had borken off my communication with Vaughn.
Luckily, he had been able to lead me to Hallam's office before we had lost contact. I knew I could handle it alone from here.
But I missed the comfort of his voice in my ear.
I sighed, shaking the thought from my mind. Now was not the time to get distracted. Someone had purposefully shut off the electricity, and they had done it for a reason. I had to work fast.
I moved quickly to the desk of Abdul Hallam, pulling open the bottom file cabinet, and groping around inside until my finger slipped across the indentation of a small button. I pressed the button, listening to the dry scraping sound behind me as a framed oil painting slid slowly away, revealing the front of a solid steel safe.
I laughed to myself. A safe hidden behind a painting. How original. I had expected more from an international terrorist.
I moved to the safe, opening it with a handy decoder given to me by an edgy CIA technician, who had reminded me very much of Marshall Flinkman.
The document I had come for was lying, unprotected, on top of a stack of papers. I grabbed the file, shut the safe, and quickly pushed the painting back into place. Taking a quick glance around the room, I checked to be sure that nothing was out of place. With a slight nod, I slipped out of the office, flipping off my flashlight beam as I left.
A simple smash and grab.
I smiled to myself as I heard heavy footsteps heading in the opposite direction. Despite how much I sometimes hated this job, I still got a thrill when things went so right. My thoughts drifted back to Vaughn, as I worked my way through the building to an exit. We had agreed earlier to meet at the CIA safehouse in Istanbul if we ever lost contact with each other, and as I hopped out of a first story window and into the darkness of the night, I headed in that direction.
* * * * *
I arrived at the safehouse about twenty minutes later, relieved and grateful that, unlike Sloane, the CIA didn't insist that I wear stiletto heels and short skirts. My feet were killing me as it was, and I was wearing what could be considered comfortable combat boots.
I released a sigh of relief as I entered the old brick building, using a key we had been given before leaving for the mission. I climbed up three flights of stairs, arriving at the top floor apartment and knocking three times in rapid succession, then twice slowly.
I could hear movement from within, and I could imagine Vaughn rushing to the door, looking through the peephole to be sure that it was me. He opened the door smiling, but I could see the tenseness in his eyes. He had been worried.
I smiled broadly and brushed past him, anxious to get my feet and my throbbing leg off the ground. I heard Vaughn chuckle behind me, amused by my attitude.
"I assume everything went okay?" He asked, shutting and bolting the door behind him. The room was dim, lit only by a couple yellowed lamps on either side of an old orange couch. The place was a dump.
"Not a single problem, except for the power." I tapped my ear, where the com had been.
"Good," Vaughn said. "Hallam must have realized what was going on and cut the electricity."
I nodded. "It ended up helping me, anyways. It was so dark that the guards walked right past me and didn't even know it." I lowered myself onto the couch, groaning at the stiffness in my back. I was feeling better than I had the day before, but I was still exhausted, and the gash on my leg burned with pain every time I moved.
I made a move to unlace my boots, but Vaughn moved quickly in front of me, kneeling next to me and grabbing my food in his hand.
"Let me," he said.
"Vaughn…" I said, all at once touched and defensive at his words. "I can take off my own boots."
"I know you can," he said, chuckling. "But I can tell it hurts." He gestured to my injured leg and I hesitated, finally nodding, and acknowledging that the leg did hurt. Even more than the day before.
Vaughn quickly undid the laces of the boots, slipping them off and setting them side by side next to the couch.
"Mind if I look?" He asked, placing his hand on my injured calf. I couldn't help but wince at even the slight pressure of his palm against the wound. I nodded, realizing how nice it was to have someone take care of me.
He moved away for a moment, grabbing a first aid kit from an otherwise empty kitchen cabinet. When he returned, he motioned for me to spin around on the couch, and I did, leaning my back against the armrest. He sat down beside me, moving my legs slightly, and then placing them down across his lap.
My heart fluttered at the gesture, and, as he pushed up the loose leg of my pants, his hand running along my leg, my breath stopped completely.
"Sydney…" he breathed, looking up at me with obvious concern. I glanced down at my leg, and I was taken aback by how bad it looked. It was worse than I had anticipated. The gash was red and deep, extending from just below my kneecap to the left side of my calf. The cut was outlined with a deep bluish purple bruise. "You didn't even put anything on it?" Vaughn asked, reaching into the first aid kit to pull out peroxide, cotton balls, and some bandages.
"I didn't realize it was so bad," I said, feeling sheepish. My eyes teared up as Vaughn lightly dabbed some peroxide onto the cut with a cotton ball.
It was true. I hadn't realized the extent of the wound. At the time it had seemed like any other gash I had received. I usually left them alone and they healed after a week or so.
"You're lucky it hasn't gotten infected," he said, a sharpness in his voice that I hadn't been expecting. Tears again sprang to my eyes, partly from his harsh words, and partly from the sting of the peroxide. He glanced up as I sniffed back a tear, his eyes softening.
"I'm sorry," he said, absently stroking my ankle with his free hand. "I just worry about you."
I nodded. "I know." And I did know. He would never hurt me. And the only times he had ever spoken harshly to me were when he was concerned about my welfare. I understood. I was the same way with him.
He smiled at me, one of those brilliant smiles that made his eyes sparkle. "Let me get this wrapped up, and you'll be good as new." He wrapped the gauze bandages around my calf securely, bent down, and placed a soft kiss on the area he had just covered.
"Better?" He asked. I blushed, and he grinned.
"Much better." We sat in silence for several moments, neither of us quite sure of what to say. I watched intently as Vaughn's hand stroked slowly up and down the calf of my uninjured leg.
"I'm glad you're here," I said finally. "You have no idea how boring it is to sit in one of these places alone for a day."
He nodded. "I can imagine."
"I had to stay in one for a week, once." I continued. "In Cairo." Vaughn grimaced, and I laughed at his expression. "I know," I said. I was having complete conversations with myself by the time the week was over."
This time it was Vaughn's turn to chuckle. "I would have liked to see that," he said. "I never knew you were quite that crazy." He grinned, and I smacked him on the arm.
"Shut up," I laughed. "You'd be talking to yourself too, if you were cooped up alone for a week." He smiled, accepting the statement.
"Seriously, though," he said. "I'm glad I'm here, too. I always hated the thought of you being stuck in these places by yourself. Especially when you were hurting." He rested his hand on my bandaged leg. We sat in silence again, and I could feel the exhaustion quickly catching up with me.
"Tired?" Vaughn asked. I nodded. He smiled. "I'll help you to the bed."
I shook my head. "I'm okay, really." To demonstrate, I lifted myself up from the couch, standing steadily on both legs.
"Sydney," he said, his voice firm. "Let me help."
I sighed, then nodded in resignation. He wrapped my arm around his shoulder, his hand supporting me at the waist. He insisted, even on the short walk to the dingy bedroom, that I keep all weight off of my leg.
His hand stayed on my waist until he had seen me safely to the bed. He grabbed a pair of sweats from a drawer and placed them on the bed next to me.
"Need anything else?" He asked, gauging my expression. I smiled, shaking my head.
"Okay," he said. "I'm going to change—" he gestured to the door of the bathroom, "and I'll hit the lights when I leave."
I nodded again, waiting until the door shut behind him to change into my sweats. Within moments, I was buried beneath the covers, almost overcome by sleepiness. I heard the bathroom door click open, and saw Vaughn, now clad in similar sweats, come out. He moved silently toward the light switch next to the bed, obviously under the impression that I was already asleep.
As he reached for the light, I grabbed his arm.
"Vaughn?" I mumbled, his arm warm and solid beneath my fingertips.
"Yeah?" he asked, his eyes concerned.
"Stay with me?" I asked, my voice timid. He smiled softly, and without another word, climbed into bed behind me. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, and I snuggled back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
After a few moments, before sleep overtook me, I turned my head slightly.
"Thank you," I murmured. He tightened his arms around me, placing a soft kiss on my shoulder, then at the base of my neck.
"Any time, Syd," he whispered. "Any time."
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Well, there it is. Chapter 12. Was it good, bad, ugly? If you choose ugly, please don't tell me. I'll cry. lol. Reviews, please!!