Chapter 7

A/N: OMG i'm so sorry this chapter is so late... it's been done for a while, but i was away this weekend, and my lovely beta has also had a terribly long week. i'm still working on this, and i do ever so adore all of your reviews! keep on telling me what you want to see happen, etc.

love you guys lots!

dark angel

~*~

Previously on Green Eyes, Brown Eyes:

Reluctantly, Sydney took his hand and smiled...

That was forty-eight hours ago.

Now, Sydney Bristow was sitting at a metal desk in a small interrogation, with a grated lamp swinging from the ceiling.

On the other side of mirror, Jack Bristow bit his lip as he looked at the woman sitting in the room, holding himself up by leaning on the sill of the mirrored window.

His daughter was home.

~*~

48 HOURS AGO

Sydney sat across from Sark, looking out the window at the beautiful view. The sun had begun to set, an orange glow filling the sky.

Sark held her hand, squeezing it to bring her back to his attention.

"Sydney, darling, I have something that I've been meaning to say to you for a very long time." Sark began, licking his lips nervously.

"Yes?" Sydney smiled at his nerves, never seeing it before.

"In the room, when you asked me if I had an ulterior motive for bringing you here on vacation, well, I was lying."

"Oh really?" Sydney pulled her hand out of his, at the shock of his words.

"I love you Sydney, and we've been through a lot. Everything that we've gone together has made us stronger, and I think it's time to reveal my true feelings."

Pausing for a moment, Sark reached in his breast pocket of his jacket to pull something out.

"Sydney Bristow, will you marry me?"

~*~

72 hours ago, the CIA had received intel that a secret deal was going to be made.

Agent Michael Vaughn was called to head up the team.

Location: Cuba

~*~

Sydney could hardly believe her ears. She stared back at the man who sat across the table from her. He had intentionally asked her to Cuba – to marry him.

Suddenly the phone rang.

Sark checked the caller, and looked back at Sydney with an apologetic look.

"Hold your answer love, I've got to take this."

Flipping open his phone, he stood up from the table, setting the diamond ring in front of her. Walking out onto the open patio, he listened intently to the caller.

Sydney picked up the box and examined the ring. Looking through the window, she watched Sark yell into his phone, his facial expression calm, but his shoulders slightly tensed.

Sydney mentally sighed. She did not expect this at all. In fact, it was the last thing she ever expected. Twirling a strand of her hair on her finger, she watched as Sark's facial expression dropped. His eyes met Sydney, as he dropped the phone.

"Sydney!" he yelled, but it was too late.

CIA officers stormed the restaurant, guns aimed at Sydney seated at the table.

"Where is he?" someone yelled at her. Shrinking back in fear and shock, Sydney shrugged her shoulders. As the young agent neared her, she sprung at him, launching a forceful attack, knocking him down and grabbing his gun. She quickly sprung back at her feet, pointing the gun at the head of her next attacker. She found herself staring down the barrel of the gun.

"If I were you, I wouldn't do that," the agent commented dryly. "I won't hesitate, you should know that?"

Sydney looked up into his eyes, recognizing them immediately. It was the same agent who knew her name.

"Sydney Bristow?" Vaughn said authoritatively. "Put the gun down."

"Make me," she replied, her heart pounding. She really didn't want him to – but she wasn't going to get away without a fight.

"Hey Boyscout, he's gone," Eric Weiss hollered into his ear through the comm-link.

"s***," Vaughn muttered. He continued to hold the gun at Sydney.

"Something wrong? Mr...," Sydney said, trailing off.

"You can call me whatever you want," Vaughn said. He mentally slapped himself in the face for saying that. Sydney glared at him, narrowing her eyes.

"Alright then," Sydney murmured. Tilting her head in one direction, she asked "How do you know my name?"

"If you put the gun down, I'd tell you."

"What part of 'make me' did you not understand?"

"Okay," Vaughn replied. "I'll give it my best shot, no pun intended." Pausing for a second, he looked straight into her eyes. Lowering his gun, he put the safety back on, and dropped it back into his shoulder holster.

"Sydney Bristow, come back with me to the US, your father wants to see you."

Her gun clattered to the floor, followed by her knees dropping to the ground. Vaughn rushed to her side, grasping her body and bringing her to her feet. Leaning on him, she was silent in shock.

Vaughn wrapped his arm around her waist, and walked her to the door.

Less than an hour later, Sydney was boarded onto a private jet.

A jet that would take her back to the States, back to her home, and back to her father.

~*~

"Agent Bristow?"

Jack's secretary popped her head in to the office.

"Urgent phone call, Line 1 sir. Agent Vaughn."

Jack's brow furrowed as he picked up the handset, and hit the line 1 button.

"Bristow."

"Agent Bristow, it's Agent Vaughn, sir. I have good news. I've secured the custody of your daughter. She's on the plane with me, now, flying back to LA."

Jack's heart nearly stopped. He could hear the engines roaring in the background.

"Agent Bristow? Hello?"

Jack snapped back to attention, clearing his throat loudly.

"Fly safe, and bring her home, Agent."

~*~

Sydney sat in the little room, her fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern on the table. She shivered slightly, pulling the jacket tighter around her shoulders. Vaughn had draped his jacket over her when they boarded the plane to keep her warm. She was still wearing the pale blue dress she had chosen for dinner, along with simple sandals to match.

She began to put things in place, in her mind, reflecting on the last couple of hours. She lifted her head as the door open, her body stiffening in a reflexive response to strangers. Her shoulders relaxed as she recognized the face – the agent with the green eyes.

"Here's a cup of coffee, Miss Bristow."

Vaughn set the paper cup in front of her, and took a seat in the opposite chair.

Sydney lifted her eyes to stare coolly into his. Vaughn caught her glare, and looked down at his papers he held.

"Miss Bristow, I have a couple of questions for you. You're right now in the possession of CIA, because you willingly left Cuba to come with us. We will be able to arrange a meeting with your father in due time, but at the moment, to avoid persecution and charges for your past activities, we will need your full co-operation. Do you have any questions?"

Sydney sat silently, holding the warm cup in her hands. "Where's my father? I want to see him."

Vaughn shifted in his seat, leaning back and running his fingers through his hair, leaving it slightly disheveled, sticking up in funny places.

"Cooperate with us, and we'll arrange a meeting."

"No."

"Why are you being so difficult?" Vaughn mumbled, rubbing his chin slightly.

"What's your name?"

"Why does it matter?"

"Just tell me." Sydney crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back.

"I'd like to know."

"Fine." Vaughn gave up, knowing that she was going to be difficult to work with. "Vaughn, Agent Michael Vaughn."

"Vaughn," Sydney repeated. "Alright then, Vaughn. Now we're getting somewhere. Now listen carefully, alright? I need to see my father right now, and when I do, I will answer all the questions you want me to. That's the deal – take it or leave it."

Vaughn shot Sydney a frustrated look.

"No. You answer my questions, then you'll see your father."

"Leave!" Sydney shouted, spilling the cup of coffee on her self as she jumped up. "s***!"

Vaughn quickly grabbed a couple of napkins, tossing them on the table to soak up the liquid while rushing over to Sydney's side, and helping her clean the mess.

Sydney backed away at his touch, nearly tripping over her chair. Vaughn noticed her reaction, and simply handed the napkin to her.

"I'll be back," he said, collecting his papers. "I'll see what I can do."

~*~

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