A/N – Sorry for the delay in updating this. I had some computer issues. :-] Anyway, this story, believe it or not, is gonna be wrapped up soon. I don't write epics (though it might read like it at times!). So expect more updates as September (and the Alias premiere) approaches! And even if you have reviewed before or if you have nothing more to say that "Nice Story", PLEASE review! Reviews keep my creative juices flowing! ;-]

[ ] denotes Sydney's thoughts

**********Santa Monica Pier, May 10th, Late Afternoon**********

"Hi."

She could tell that she had startled him, despite his admirable recovery. He inclined his head slightly but didn't move from his position on the bench at all, and kept his gaze fixedly on the ocean.

She had wanted to be sure, so she had watched him. For close to 3 hours. While she instinctively trusted Vaughn, she couldn't completely abandon her spy-training and ingrained cautiousness. He might not have alerted the CIA to her whereabouts, but that didn't mean that they didn't have someone tailing him as a way of getting to her.

So she had picked a spot that had enabled her to see the entire rendezvous spot and she had watched him arrive. He had been early, just a little ahead of their agreed-upon time. And he had been anxious. He had alternately sat on the bench and paced. His agitation grew with each passing minute that she had been late but she had steadfastly watched him, and the area, for hours past their meet time. Only when she had been assured that no one was tailing Vaughn and that there was no surveillance, had she finally appeared.

"Syd? I was-" He stopped abruptly as he turned and caught sight of her disguise.

She had stopped in a drugstore and had bought a wig and some make-up, as well as a few accessories. A quick stop into a nearby 'alternative' clothing store had completed her disguise. She had opted for a jet black wig, cut into thick chunks so that its ends stood up. Her makeup was heavy with dark eye shadow and black kohl lining her eyes and bright, purple lipstick adorning her lips. She wore a ripped T-shirt with the name of a heavy metal band emblazoned across the front and a pair of ripped jean shorts. Worn sneakers and big, silvery jewelry on her wrists and ears completed her 'punk' outfit.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," she said just loud enough to be heard as she settled into the bench directly behind him. She continued to maintain a bored expression as she looked around the pier.

"I-It's. . .uh. .. are you okay?"

Vaughn had managed to recover enough to remember their cover and he directed his gaze out at the ocean again. He was wearing jeans, dark green T-shirt and a Kings baseball cap. The cap was worn backwards and gave him a boyish and relaxed appearance, which helped to mask his obvious agitation.

"I'm fine. Thanks for meeting me."

"Of course I'd. . ." He stopped and rubbed his hand across his face tiredly. "Why are you running Sydney?"

"I heard counterintelligence wanted to bring me in."

He sighed. "How'd you know?"

"That's not important. I. . .I just couldn't go in, Vaughn. I can't."

He sighed heavily. "Syd, it's only a matter of time before they find you." He looked around the pier quickly. "They might be here already."

"They're not," she said with quiet confidence. "And they're not gonna find me."

"You're probably being tracked now," he said, his forehead furrowing with concern.

"I got rid of the tracker," she said as she casually lifted the sleeve of her T-shirt. She saw Vaughn visibly wince at the sight of the bandage on her upper arm. "It's O.K. Didn't hurt at all. Marshall didn't implant it too deeply."

"H-how. . ." He stopped and shook his head. "O.K. You've managed to hold them off. . .for a while. But you can't run forever, Syd."

"I know," she said, drawing in a deep breath. The salty, dry ocean air calmed her. "I wasn't planning on it."

"What *are* you planning?"

"I need to find Sloane."

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by an agitated swipe of his nose. "Sloane's dead, Syd."

"*Presumed* dead."

"There's been no activity from him or any of his associates in close to a year. Both the CIA and NSA, not to mention our intelligence counterparts in other countries, have monitored the remnants of the Alliance to see if anyone would step into the void to attempt and create another organization, and no one has. Sloane would have been an obvious choice and there's been nothing, Syd. Not a thing."

"He could just be keeping a low profile. He knows you'd be watching."

"Even so, he has no way of re-creating the Alliance or even SD-6."

"He doesn't care about that," she said impatiently. "Rambaldi has always been Sloane's ultimate goal."

Her answer caught him off-guard. He turned quickly to look at her for a beat before looking back out at the ocean. "How do you know about Rambaldi?"

She sighed. [It's now or never.] "Because I. . .I think Sloane has constructed a Rambaldi device that has allowed him to either travel back into time or at least manipulate it somehow. And he took me along for the ride."

There was no response from Vaughn for so long that she risked turning to look at him. His profile didn't yield much but the tension in his jaw told her plenty. "Vaughn?" she prompted.

"Sydney. . .I. . ." he trailed off and sighed deeply. "Obviously you've been through a lot. And it's understandable that with this kind of trauma, you'd need someone to lash out at but-"

"That's *not* what I'm doing!" she cried. "Look, I *know* Sloane is alive, okay? And I know that he has a Rambaldi device that's capable of. . .something beyond our imagination. And he's used it which means he's likely to use it again."

"How do you *know* Sloane's alive?"

She paused. She didn't know whether to reveal her mother's role to Vaughn or not. The Vaughn she remembered hated her mother, despite his feelings for her and their blossoming relationship. Vaughn had always been polite and coolly civil to her mother, but she knew he didn't trust her at all. But *this* Vaughn? Did he feel the same way? She remembered that he had talked to her mother directly on the plane from Hong Kong to Los Angeles and there had been no hint of hostility or distrust. "I just. . .know. Like I know other things I shouldn't or wouldn't know."

Her stressing the last part caused him to turn and study her for several seconds. "You never did explain that."

"That's what I'm trying to do now."

He shook his head. "Time travel Syd? That's from the movies."

"I know," she said tiredly. "But look, I talked to Marshall and he said that it was possible, so long as you had a source of incredible power. Something that would allow you to either travel faster than light or to create a wormhole."

"Syd, those are just theories. . .there's never been any proof that it's possible to time travel."

She sighed in frustration. "How else do you explain that I know about things like your tattoo? Or Barnett being the CIA psychologist?"

"I-I don't know, but it's. . .it can't be time travel."

"Why not?" she said, getting angry. "Is that so much more unbelievable than a 15th Century inventor who prophesized my role in some doomsday scenario?"

"You. . .know about that prophecy?"

"I know a lot of things!" she cried, completely frustrated now. "Like your code name is Boy Scout because you were told to always be prepared by your CST instructor after you forgot your manual on the first day. And that you love eating at Trattoria di Nardi in Italy. Or that your father used to keep a journal that you teased him about. Or that you have an Aunt Trish who believes in aliens and crop circles. Or that you have season tickets to the Kings, even though you barely make any of the games because of your job. Or that you used to be a swimmer when you were young."

The only reason she stopped was because she had run out of breath. She glanced over at Vaughn who had an almost comical expression on his face. His mouth was slightly agape, while his eyes opened wide and staring at her unblinkingly. "H-how did you. . ."

"How do you think I could know all those things Vaughn unless somehow I've already lived through it? I mean there's no way that anyone would know those things to implant it into my memory right?"

"I. . .how. . ."

"O.K. Then how about this? You have a small, pinkish birthmark near your right hipbone."

Vaughn stared at her, no longer caring about maintaining a cover. She knew it was wrong of her to ambush him like that but she was so frustrated. Perhaps she was used to having Vaughn always yielding to her demands. That was selfish, not to mention, spoiled, but she really didn't need his resistance now. He was her only chance and if he wasn't willing to help, she didn't know what to do.
"Vaughn, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just. . ." she stopped and looked at him again. He had now resumed staring at the ocean, his face no longer rigid with shock. "I just. . .I need you to believe me because you're the only person I know who can help me."
He didn't say anything for a long time and she forced herself to sit there silently. The least she owed him was time to absorb everything that she had just thrown at him. "Were we close?" he finally asked.
"W-what?"
"Were we close?" he repeated, this time turning to look at her intently.
"You mean. . .f-from before?" He nodded, never taking his eyes from hers. The easy way out of this was to lie, but she found that she couldn't lie to him. That she didn't want to lie to him. "Yes."
"Were we. . .together?" She nodded. "So since you knew. . .about Alice, I guess she and I broke up?"
"You never married her," she said quietly.
To her surprise, he chuckled. Of course, his chuckle was mirthless. . .ironic even. "I guess we really weren't meant to be."
"Us?"
"Alice and I," said Vaughn, turning back towards the ocean. "She filed for divorce a month ago."
She really didn't know how to react to that news. So she opted for the standard, polite answer. "I'm sorry."
He shook his head. "Don't be. It's. . .for the best. We shouldn't have gotten married at all."
"Vaughn, I-"
"So. . .time travel, huh?" he said lightly, cutting her off.
She saw that he didn't want to discuss it further, and acquiesced. Besides, she was grateful to steer away from the entirely too personal tone that the conversation had taken. "It's the best theory I've got so far."
"And you want to find Sloane. . .how?"
"By finding Emily Sloane."
To her surprise, Vaughn shook his head. "That's no easy task, Syd."
"Why?"
"Emily Sloane went missing right around the time you entered the CIA."
"Missing?"
He nodded. "She just suddenly. . .disappeared. According to your father, Sloane didn't say a word about it. We thought that was suspicious. And so did the members of the Alliance. We all looked but nothing. After the Alliance's downfall and Sloane's presumed death, we just stopped. She was no longer a priority."
"Why wasn't I told about this? It. . .doesn't make any sense, I mean I. . ." She stopped. She was going to say that she would've have known if anything had happened to Emily but that wasn't the whole truth. Emily had been like a surrogate mother to her when her own mother had 'died.' But as she had gotten older, she had grown further and further apart from Emily. And upon discovering the truth about Sloane, she had started to avoid Emily, unable to deal with Sloane's betrayal. "Emily's alive Vaughn and she's with Sloane. When we find her, we find him." She looked at him and held his gaze. "And when we find him, we can fix my life."