A/N - Usual disclaimers apply of course. I have tried in the last two
chapters to format this story and have failed! Wah! Somehow between my MS
Word program and uploading to fanfiction.net, all the bolds, italics and
whatnot gets lost. So. . .until I figure it out (and if anyone out there
wants to pass along some helpful hints - I will be forever grateful!),
thoughts will be denoted by words within [ ]. Bold words will be changed to
all caps. Anything else, I'll give you a heads up. Hopefully that won't
confuse you anymore than you already are! LOL!
As always, thanks to those who are reading and reviewing. I get such a kick out of all the reviews, and I know you are all confused but I swear, it WILL get clearer. Otherwise, I'll have pretty much failed as a writer here, hmm? Seriously, a word of warning here. . .for those of you who think we've done some time traveling. . .you might want to brace yourself for a rather jolting cliffhanger at the end of the chapter. :-]
************STILL in Hong Kong**************
"M-my mother?"
Vaughn looked at her in concern. "I really think-" He didn't have a chance to finish because in that instant she lunged at him, catching him off-guard which allowed her to knock him off balance. He fell to the floor with a dull thud. "Sydney!"
She ignored him and pinned his left arm behind his back while maintaining the pressure on his back with her knee. She quickly patted him down and located his gun, which she confiscated. Checking to see that it was loaded, she released the safety and then stood up, aiming the gun at him. He stayed immobile on the floor as she edged away from him and towards the door.
"Get up," she commanded quietly. He looked at her for a beat and then slowly stood up. He held his arms to the side, slightly away from his body and with his palms facing upwards.
"Sydney," he said in a calm, soft voice. The kind of voice you'd use on an irrational person who was perched on the ledge of a rooftop.
She gripped the gun tighter. "Who are you?"
"Syd-"
"I said who are you!"
"Look, I know this is all-"
"Shut up!" She glanced around the room quickly. The window was behind him but she didn't want to chance an escape route that way. The door was the easiest route, but she didn't know what she'd find on the other side. "Give me your phone." Slowly, he removed his cell phone from his jacket pocket and then slid it over to her. She bent, never taking her eyes or the gun off of him and scooped up the phone. She glanced quickly at it before she stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans.
"You don't want to do this."
"I said shut up!" she cried, trying to think of a plan. But she still couldn't get pass the shock and trauma of the last few hours. She suppressed her frustration and turned on him. "Who are you? I know you work for my mother so you can't be Michael Vaughn. The real one at least."
"Syd," he said in the same calm voice although she could see the desperation in his eyes. "It's really me. I know this is all confusing to you but I swear, I'm Vaughn."
"No, you're not! Not if you're working for my mother! Irina Derevko is a known terrorist and there's no way she would be head of operations at the CIA! This is some sick game you're playing and I want to know what it is!"
"W-what!" He shook his head. "I-Irina Derevko? Syd-" He looked at her in confusion. "Your mother. . .she's not a terrorist. Look, I know this all seems like -"
"And if you were really Vaughn, there's no way you'd be okay with Derevko heading anything at the CIA. She killed your father!"
"She. . .what! Syd, what are you talking about?"
She continued to aim the gun at him. This was all too much. And the only explanation that seemed to make sense was that this had to be some elaborate mind game that her mother was playing with her. It wasn't Vaughn standing there across from her. Vaughn would never work for her mother. And her father wouldn't have abandoned the CIA. He'd gone rogue before but not like this. And Will. . .she shook her head. Even this didn't make sense. If her mother was playing some sick and twisted mind game, then, in reality, Will would be dead. And so was Francie. Her head was throbbing in pain and she inhaled, fighting against the pain to think clearly.
She knew she couldn't have it both ways. Either this was a game and things were exactly as she remembered, including the deaths of her two best friends, or this wasn't a game and everything that was happening now was real. She didn't like either of those options. Was there any other option though?
"Syd?"
She looked back at him. He hadn't moved. He was still standing in the same, non-threatening stance and looking at her in concern.
"I-if you're really Vaughn, then what happened when we first met?"
He looked at her for a beat. She could see the struggle in his eyes as he tried to decide if the best course of action was to engage her. Finally he sighed and said, "You came into the CIA and said you were an agent at SD-6 and wanted to work as a double. You had this pink wig on and your face was swelling. You looked pretty banged up. You spent hours writing this incredibly long statement about everything that had happened up until that point. I think I called your statement 'Tolstoy-long.'"
She could feel herself faltering but held on. "Y-you could have learned that somehow."
"Syd," he began and sighed. "O.K. How about when I first gave you the real layout of the Alliance and SD-6. We had some stupid argument about drawing a map. And after I gave you the instructions for dead drops you asked me, with this chip on your shoulder attitude, to show you what a paper bag looks like again." He smiled at the memory. "I thought you were a brat and no doubt you thought I was some macho jerk whose tie was knotted too tightly."
[Oh, God.] She felt herself lowering the gun and backing away from him until her back hit the door. "T-this-" She felt the tears rising up in her throat, and this time she had no energy or will to stop it. A small sob escaped her lips and she slumped into the ground, as sob after sob wracked her body.
He was by her side in an instant. Gently, he took the gun out of her hand and then he sat down next to her and gathered her into his arms. He held her tightly as she cried. For a long while the tears flowed. After a long while, she was out of tears and she just sat there, on the dirty floor of the CIA safe house, her head on Vaughn's shoulder and stared at some spot on the floor. Her mind too overwhelmed and tired to process much more.
"Syd," Vaughn said softly, his hand still stroking her head soothingly. "We'll figure this out, okay? I promise. We're gonna figure this out."
*******************CIA Jet, heading to Los Angeles****************.
How she slept, she didn't know. But sleep she did. She managed to hold on long enough to board the small private plane that the CIA had provided. Once she was buckled into her seat, she surrendered to the sweet call of a dreamless, peaceful sleep.
She didn't know how long she slept, but when she awoke, the plane was still in the air and Vaughn was once again, talking softly on his cell phone.
"Yes, I think that's best. I don't know how she'll react to anything anymore."
She scanned the cabin and found him sitting up near the door leading to the cockpit. He was sitting with his back to her and was unaware that she was awake. Her spy training kicked in and she focused on his end of the conversation.
"I don't know. She seems to have no memory of where she's been the last two years, and yet. . .she seems aware of things that she couldn't or shouldn't be aware of. It's. . .strange." There was a pause as Vaughn listened to the reply. "No, she didn't take the news well. I think it might be best if you held off on meeting with her for the time being."
She straightened slightly. Vaughn sounded like he was talking to her mother. She still couldn't figure out whether her mother had anything to do with these strange events. But she wasn't going to let her guard down.
"Yes, yes. The safe house in L.A. would be best. We should ease her into the evaluations." She watched as he lifted his arm to check his watch. "Another hour or so." Another pause. "O.K. That's fine. And yes, I'd like to be there."
Vaughn mumbled a 'goodbye' before snapping his phone closed. He sat there for several minutes before he got up and made his way back to where she was sitting. When he saw that she was awake, he smiled and took the seat across from hers.
"How are you feeling?"
"O.K. I guess." She glanced around the cabin. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. It was strange. The last time she saw him, they were planning a romantic weekend getaway. Her feelings for him hadn't changed at all. They still felt fresh. As if she had just kissed him goodbye in his car yesterday. And yet, the person sitting across from her wasn't the Vaughn that she had last seen.
She glanced quickly at him and noticed that he too was avoiding eye contact. He lifted his hand and swiped his nose quickly. She smiled involuntarily. No double or clone, no matter how well-trained could mimic Vaughn's mannerism so precisely. Even so, this Vaughn was as much of a stranger to her as a double or clone.
She cleared her throat. "Um. . .I-I'm sorry about what happened at the house. It. . .this is all. . ." She stopped and shook her head. "I didn't mean to attack you like that."
He smiled. "You haven't lost a step in your offensive abilities."
She smiled back and for a brief instant, she felt their old connection before it was broken and awkward silence descended upon them once again. "I, uh, I heard you on the phone. We're headed to another safe house?"
He nodded. "I, uh I mean we, thought that would be better for you. You don't mind do you?"
"No," she said, glancing out the window. "Where else would I go? I'm assuming I no longer live where I used so I have no home. And my friends-" Her voice cracked and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying. She refused to cry anymore.
"Syd," he said gently leaning towards her. "It'll be okay. It'll just take some time. But we'll work it out."
She looked at him then. His eyes held such anguish that she knew she couldn't take his offer, no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn't pretend that things hadn't changed when clearly they had. And it was going to do her no good to hang onto her feelings for him. He was married. She was a screwed-up, amnesiac spy. Whatever had happened between them before she lost her. . . memory or whatever it was she had lost. . .that had been. . .a dream maybe. . .but it wasn't real anymore and she couldn't hold on to that.
"Vaughn, it's. . ." She stopped and inhaled deeply. "I'll be okay. I'm not your asset anymore. Whatever happens next, I'll handle it. You don't have to worry about me. I'm sure the CIA will take care of me."
He winced imperceptibly but she saw it. She looked away quickly, not prepared to deal with the flood of emotions. "Syd, I can't. . .you shouldn't go through this alone."
[But I am alone.] She clenched her jaw in resolve and turned back to him. "I sort of have to in this case. No one else lost two years of their life. No one else can go through it with me." She smiled, hoping to convey the strength and bravery that she wasn't feeling. "Besides, you're not CIA anymore. You'll probably be heading back to the NSA once we land right?"
He was about to respond when the pilot came out from the cockpit and interrupted them. "Excuse me, folks. I just wanted to let you know that we're approaching LAX, so you should prepare for landing."
"Thank you," Vaughn said softly. Once the pilot had returned to the cockpit, he turned back to her. "We can talk more later." And then he got up and returned to his seat in the front, not giving her a chance to say anything more.
************************Los Angeles, CIA Safe House************************
She'd been in this house before. But yet she hadn't. It was the same safe house that they had placed Agent James Lennox in after she and Vaughn had extracted him in Cayo Concha. But that hadn't happened. Yet, if it hadn't happened. . .how could she have imagined so many details that were real? If those memories weren't a dream, what were they? Barnett, Kendall, Lennox, the CIA safe house. Was she psychic or did she simply have prophetic dreams? Somehow, she doubted either of those explanations.
"There's uh, some clothes and stuff for you in the bathroom. I think the fridge and cupboards are stocked pretty well."
She nodded absently as she took in the house. Everything was as she had remembered when Lennox was here. The furniture. The lay out. If she had disappeared before SD-6 and the Alliance had been destroyed, there was no way she could have been in this house before now. So how could everything be as she 'remembered'? Something very strange was going on. Something way beyond memory loss.
She suddenly thought of something. "Vaughn?" He turned and looked at her. "D-do you have a tattoo on your left arm?" His expression gave her the answer before he even uttered a stunned, soft 'yes.' She closed her eyes and inhaled. If she had been shocked before she was completely and utterly freaked now.
"H-how did you know about my tattoo?"
She opened her eyes and shook her head. She didn't know anything anymore but she knew that what she remembered was real. Very real. And suddenly, she was beginning to realize something that had first occurred to her when Vaughn had mentioned the pier. Something about the date and her conception of time.
"What day is it today?" she asked abruptly. She already suspected the answer but she needed confirmation.
"What?"
"Today's date! What is it?"
"May 7th."
"What year?"
"2003."
As always, thanks to those who are reading and reviewing. I get such a kick out of all the reviews, and I know you are all confused but I swear, it WILL get clearer. Otherwise, I'll have pretty much failed as a writer here, hmm? Seriously, a word of warning here. . .for those of you who think we've done some time traveling. . .you might want to brace yourself for a rather jolting cliffhanger at the end of the chapter. :-]
************STILL in Hong Kong**************
"M-my mother?"
Vaughn looked at her in concern. "I really think-" He didn't have a chance to finish because in that instant she lunged at him, catching him off-guard which allowed her to knock him off balance. He fell to the floor with a dull thud. "Sydney!"
She ignored him and pinned his left arm behind his back while maintaining the pressure on his back with her knee. She quickly patted him down and located his gun, which she confiscated. Checking to see that it was loaded, she released the safety and then stood up, aiming the gun at him. He stayed immobile on the floor as she edged away from him and towards the door.
"Get up," she commanded quietly. He looked at her for a beat and then slowly stood up. He held his arms to the side, slightly away from his body and with his palms facing upwards.
"Sydney," he said in a calm, soft voice. The kind of voice you'd use on an irrational person who was perched on the ledge of a rooftop.
She gripped the gun tighter. "Who are you?"
"Syd-"
"I said who are you!"
"Look, I know this is all-"
"Shut up!" She glanced around the room quickly. The window was behind him but she didn't want to chance an escape route that way. The door was the easiest route, but she didn't know what she'd find on the other side. "Give me your phone." Slowly, he removed his cell phone from his jacket pocket and then slid it over to her. She bent, never taking her eyes or the gun off of him and scooped up the phone. She glanced quickly at it before she stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans.
"You don't want to do this."
"I said shut up!" she cried, trying to think of a plan. But she still couldn't get pass the shock and trauma of the last few hours. She suppressed her frustration and turned on him. "Who are you? I know you work for my mother so you can't be Michael Vaughn. The real one at least."
"Syd," he said in the same calm voice although she could see the desperation in his eyes. "It's really me. I know this is all confusing to you but I swear, I'm Vaughn."
"No, you're not! Not if you're working for my mother! Irina Derevko is a known terrorist and there's no way she would be head of operations at the CIA! This is some sick game you're playing and I want to know what it is!"
"W-what!" He shook his head. "I-Irina Derevko? Syd-" He looked at her in confusion. "Your mother. . .she's not a terrorist. Look, I know this all seems like -"
"And if you were really Vaughn, there's no way you'd be okay with Derevko heading anything at the CIA. She killed your father!"
"She. . .what! Syd, what are you talking about?"
She continued to aim the gun at him. This was all too much. And the only explanation that seemed to make sense was that this had to be some elaborate mind game that her mother was playing with her. It wasn't Vaughn standing there across from her. Vaughn would never work for her mother. And her father wouldn't have abandoned the CIA. He'd gone rogue before but not like this. And Will. . .she shook her head. Even this didn't make sense. If her mother was playing some sick and twisted mind game, then, in reality, Will would be dead. And so was Francie. Her head was throbbing in pain and she inhaled, fighting against the pain to think clearly.
She knew she couldn't have it both ways. Either this was a game and things were exactly as she remembered, including the deaths of her two best friends, or this wasn't a game and everything that was happening now was real. She didn't like either of those options. Was there any other option though?
"Syd?"
She looked back at him. He hadn't moved. He was still standing in the same, non-threatening stance and looking at her in concern.
"I-if you're really Vaughn, then what happened when we first met?"
He looked at her for a beat. She could see the struggle in his eyes as he tried to decide if the best course of action was to engage her. Finally he sighed and said, "You came into the CIA and said you were an agent at SD-6 and wanted to work as a double. You had this pink wig on and your face was swelling. You looked pretty banged up. You spent hours writing this incredibly long statement about everything that had happened up until that point. I think I called your statement 'Tolstoy-long.'"
She could feel herself faltering but held on. "Y-you could have learned that somehow."
"Syd," he began and sighed. "O.K. How about when I first gave you the real layout of the Alliance and SD-6. We had some stupid argument about drawing a map. And after I gave you the instructions for dead drops you asked me, with this chip on your shoulder attitude, to show you what a paper bag looks like again." He smiled at the memory. "I thought you were a brat and no doubt you thought I was some macho jerk whose tie was knotted too tightly."
[Oh, God.] She felt herself lowering the gun and backing away from him until her back hit the door. "T-this-" She felt the tears rising up in her throat, and this time she had no energy or will to stop it. A small sob escaped her lips and she slumped into the ground, as sob after sob wracked her body.
He was by her side in an instant. Gently, he took the gun out of her hand and then he sat down next to her and gathered her into his arms. He held her tightly as she cried. For a long while the tears flowed. After a long while, she was out of tears and she just sat there, on the dirty floor of the CIA safe house, her head on Vaughn's shoulder and stared at some spot on the floor. Her mind too overwhelmed and tired to process much more.
"Syd," Vaughn said softly, his hand still stroking her head soothingly. "We'll figure this out, okay? I promise. We're gonna figure this out."
*******************CIA Jet, heading to Los Angeles****************.
How she slept, she didn't know. But sleep she did. She managed to hold on long enough to board the small private plane that the CIA had provided. Once she was buckled into her seat, she surrendered to the sweet call of a dreamless, peaceful sleep.
She didn't know how long she slept, but when she awoke, the plane was still in the air and Vaughn was once again, talking softly on his cell phone.
"Yes, I think that's best. I don't know how she'll react to anything anymore."
She scanned the cabin and found him sitting up near the door leading to the cockpit. He was sitting with his back to her and was unaware that she was awake. Her spy training kicked in and she focused on his end of the conversation.
"I don't know. She seems to have no memory of where she's been the last two years, and yet. . .she seems aware of things that she couldn't or shouldn't be aware of. It's. . .strange." There was a pause as Vaughn listened to the reply. "No, she didn't take the news well. I think it might be best if you held off on meeting with her for the time being."
She straightened slightly. Vaughn sounded like he was talking to her mother. She still couldn't figure out whether her mother had anything to do with these strange events. But she wasn't going to let her guard down.
"Yes, yes. The safe house in L.A. would be best. We should ease her into the evaluations." She watched as he lifted his arm to check his watch. "Another hour or so." Another pause. "O.K. That's fine. And yes, I'd like to be there."
Vaughn mumbled a 'goodbye' before snapping his phone closed. He sat there for several minutes before he got up and made his way back to where she was sitting. When he saw that she was awake, he smiled and took the seat across from hers.
"How are you feeling?"
"O.K. I guess." She glanced around the cabin. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. It was strange. The last time she saw him, they were planning a romantic weekend getaway. Her feelings for him hadn't changed at all. They still felt fresh. As if she had just kissed him goodbye in his car yesterday. And yet, the person sitting across from her wasn't the Vaughn that she had last seen.
She glanced quickly at him and noticed that he too was avoiding eye contact. He lifted his hand and swiped his nose quickly. She smiled involuntarily. No double or clone, no matter how well-trained could mimic Vaughn's mannerism so precisely. Even so, this Vaughn was as much of a stranger to her as a double or clone.
She cleared her throat. "Um. . .I-I'm sorry about what happened at the house. It. . .this is all. . ." She stopped and shook her head. "I didn't mean to attack you like that."
He smiled. "You haven't lost a step in your offensive abilities."
She smiled back and for a brief instant, she felt their old connection before it was broken and awkward silence descended upon them once again. "I, uh, I heard you on the phone. We're headed to another safe house?"
He nodded. "I, uh I mean we, thought that would be better for you. You don't mind do you?"
"No," she said, glancing out the window. "Where else would I go? I'm assuming I no longer live where I used so I have no home. And my friends-" Her voice cracked and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying. She refused to cry anymore.
"Syd," he said gently leaning towards her. "It'll be okay. It'll just take some time. But we'll work it out."
She looked at him then. His eyes held such anguish that she knew she couldn't take his offer, no matter how much she wanted to. She couldn't pretend that things hadn't changed when clearly they had. And it was going to do her no good to hang onto her feelings for him. He was married. She was a screwed-up, amnesiac spy. Whatever had happened between them before she lost her. . . memory or whatever it was she had lost. . .that had been. . .a dream maybe. . .but it wasn't real anymore and she couldn't hold on to that.
"Vaughn, it's. . ." She stopped and inhaled deeply. "I'll be okay. I'm not your asset anymore. Whatever happens next, I'll handle it. You don't have to worry about me. I'm sure the CIA will take care of me."
He winced imperceptibly but she saw it. She looked away quickly, not prepared to deal with the flood of emotions. "Syd, I can't. . .you shouldn't go through this alone."
[But I am alone.] She clenched her jaw in resolve and turned back to him. "I sort of have to in this case. No one else lost two years of their life. No one else can go through it with me." She smiled, hoping to convey the strength and bravery that she wasn't feeling. "Besides, you're not CIA anymore. You'll probably be heading back to the NSA once we land right?"
He was about to respond when the pilot came out from the cockpit and interrupted them. "Excuse me, folks. I just wanted to let you know that we're approaching LAX, so you should prepare for landing."
"Thank you," Vaughn said softly. Once the pilot had returned to the cockpit, he turned back to her. "We can talk more later." And then he got up and returned to his seat in the front, not giving her a chance to say anything more.
************************Los Angeles, CIA Safe House************************
She'd been in this house before. But yet she hadn't. It was the same safe house that they had placed Agent James Lennox in after she and Vaughn had extracted him in Cayo Concha. But that hadn't happened. Yet, if it hadn't happened. . .how could she have imagined so many details that were real? If those memories weren't a dream, what were they? Barnett, Kendall, Lennox, the CIA safe house. Was she psychic or did she simply have prophetic dreams? Somehow, she doubted either of those explanations.
"There's uh, some clothes and stuff for you in the bathroom. I think the fridge and cupboards are stocked pretty well."
She nodded absently as she took in the house. Everything was as she had remembered when Lennox was here. The furniture. The lay out. If she had disappeared before SD-6 and the Alliance had been destroyed, there was no way she could have been in this house before now. So how could everything be as she 'remembered'? Something very strange was going on. Something way beyond memory loss.
She suddenly thought of something. "Vaughn?" He turned and looked at her. "D-do you have a tattoo on your left arm?" His expression gave her the answer before he even uttered a stunned, soft 'yes.' She closed her eyes and inhaled. If she had been shocked before she was completely and utterly freaked now.
"H-how did you know about my tattoo?"
She opened her eyes and shook her head. She didn't know anything anymore but she knew that what she remembered was real. Very real. And suddenly, she was beginning to realize something that had first occurred to her when Vaughn had mentioned the pier. Something about the date and her conception of time.
"What day is it today?" she asked abruptly. She already suspected the answer but she needed confirmation.
"What?"
"Today's date! What is it?"
"May 7th."
"What year?"
"2003."