Title: Into the Deep
Author: Jennifer Campbell
Fandom: Alias
Spoilers: General season 2
Pairings: Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: The show Alias and its characters
belong to people with a lot more money than I have.
Please don't sue.
Notes: Here it is, folks: the last chapter. Yes, I know it has been six months since I last posted. All I can say is that since the last chapter went up, my family has bought a house, moved in and I've gotten pregnant. So I've had lots of contend with in the real world. Sorry for the delay.
Because this is my last chance on this story, I want to thank Neptune, who betaed most of the story and did a wonderful job. I also want to thank all of you who have taken the time to read my story and send feedback. I really appreciate it.
##
The first thing she became aware of as she awoke was the roar of engines, and that the rough surface she was lying on suddenly lurched down from under her. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times to clear away the blurriness of a long sleep. The floor lurched again, and she sat up.
"Don't worry. It's just turbulence."
She turned to see Vaughn beside her, sitting on a wooden crate. He smiled and took her hand in his. Sydney knew she should pull away, but right now she was so relieved to see him alive and well that she couldn't bring herself to lose his warm touch.
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I'm fine." She glanced at their surroundings -- a narrow, cramped space mostly filled with boxes and netting. She found herself on a small canvas cot. "Where are we?"
"Somewhere over the Atlantic, I think. Although it's difficult to tell at night."
"We're going home?" she asked hopefully.
His smiled broadened and he nodded. "Yeah, we're going home. Syd, you're sure you're all right?"
"Yes, I feel fine. Why?"
"You're been unconscious for almost two days, since the night of the escape. We were starting to get worried."
"We?"
Before he could answer, from somewhere to her left, a door shut with a metallic clank, and a familiar figure dodged around some netting and approached them. Vaughn dropped her hand as Sydney grinned and stood to hug her father. Jack's arms wrapped around her tightly for a moment before he backed away a step.
"Dad, what are you doing here?"
"After I learned of your kidnapping, I came to find you."
"I'm glad you're here."
He gave her a rare smile. "So am I. Do you remember everything that happened?"
She almost laughed at the absurd thought of forgetting any of the ordeal, even one second of it. That dank room, Vaughn unconscious and injured, the heroic rescue by her mother -- those images would be with her for the rest of her life. She had finally gotten her espionage adventure, and it had been more dangerous -- and exciting -- than she could have imagined. No spy novel would ever do it justice.
"Mom was there, Dad," she said. "Before the building blew up. I don't know if she made it out."
Jack and Vaughn exchanged a wary look.
"Vaughn mentioned you had said something about her."
"She's the one who got me out. She helped me free Vaughn."
"I see."
Jack's face became unreadable, in that way Sydney knew all too well. He was about to tell her something she wouldn't like. She glanced at Vaughn, who immediately lowered his eyes to his hands, folded in his lap. They both were acting much too strangely.
"You don't believe me," Sydney said quietly.
Vaughn sighed. "I think you need to sit down."
She silently complied, sinking onto the cot across from Vaughn, and looked expectantly at them both. Her chest tightened and her stomach hurt, neither of which, she knew, had anything to do with the airplane's rolling movements.
"Sydney, it's not that we don't believe you," Jack said. "I do believe your mother was in that building and that she appeared to be helping you, but appearances aren't always what they seem."
"Dad, I don't understand."
He sighed and sat beside her. "Your mother was the one who orchestrated your kidnapping."
For a moment, she couldn't find the words to respond. She felt like someone had punched her in the gut and all the air had left her body. It couldn't be true. Granted, Irina Derevko wasn't a good person. In the short time since she had first contacted Sydney, she had escaped from CIA custody with stolen property and killed an agent. But she had not lied to her daughter. Not once. Why would she start now?
"Syd, I know this is hard," Vaughn said, his gentle voice coming from what seemed very far away. "But your father is telling you the truth. You have to believe him."
"But why?" she asked, her voice throaty with emotion. "Why would she do that?"
Jack answered. "If you are referring to the staged rescue, I can only surmise that she wanted to gain your trust and convince you to join her in her operations. If you mean the kidnapping itself, she was holding you and Agent Vaughn hostage because she knew I would be willing to exchange anything for your safe release."
"What's so important that she would kidnap us to get it?" she asked, and then, before her father could reply, the answer came to her in a rush.
She remembered her mother's words of not so long ago. They had sat across each other in the mall food court, and Sydney had asked Irina what she was doing in Los Angeles. She remembered her mother's answer: I was here to steal something from the CIA. Something valuable, she had said. A very old box.
Sydney gave her father a frank look. "You gave it to her. You gave her the box."
Jack was astonished. "How do you know about that?"
"She told me. She said it was a key to something. Something powerful. I didn't really understand. Do you know what she was meant?"
Jack shook his head. "Irina claims to know more about the box than the CIA has managed to find out. But that is an issue for another day." He stood and straightened his shirt. "You need to rest now. We'll be in Los Angeles in a few hours, and the CIA will want your full report."
She nodded and laid down on the cot without complaint. Despite two days of sleeping, she still felt exhausted by all that had happened. Vaughn gave her a reassuring smile as he too stood up.
"Dad," she said, as the two men started to walk away. They both looked back. "Do you think Mom survived?"
"I don't know," Jack answered after a long pause. "But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that your mother is very hard to kill."
#
"If you don't mind my asking, what happened? I thought the plan was to take your daughter with us."
"Plans change," Irina said tersely, without looking up from an open file on her desk. Even so, she could almost sense the smirk on Sark's face. The young man was talented, but he also had a lot to learn -- like how not to gloat when those more experienced than himself failed in their objectives.
"That's too bad. I looked forward getting to know your daughter under more cordial circumstances. I like her. She has spirit."
"Yes, she does. It has a tendency to get her into trouble."
"What do you mean?"
Irina glanced up at Sark, who stood before her desk with a genuinely curious expression -- no hint of sarcasm or disrespect. It made him look younger. For the first time, she realized that Sark and Sydney were of a similar age, yet how different they were. He wouldn't understand Sydney's selfless act of saving her friend because his own sense of self-preservation was too strong. He couldn't comprehend that level of concern for someone else.
"After Sydney spotted the CIA agent, she refused to leave without him," Irina explained. "She would have rather died trying to get him out. At that point, I knew it was over. We couldn't take Agent Vaughn with us, so I had no choice but to let her go. I left her to free him while I reset the bomb to give them enough time to escape."
"That was rather foolish of her, risking her life on the possibility of saving that agent."
"That's the way she is," Irina said. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes, actually, I came to report that our people are still working on translating the writing on the boxes. Apparently it's taking longer than they expected because of the complexity of the coding. One box cannot be read without the other. Quite ingenious, really."
"When do they think they'll be finished."
"By morning, if all goes well. Then we will finally know what it is Rambaldi wrote. I only hope it is worth the effort that has been put into it."
"Have some faith, Sark."
"Not if I can help it. What is our next move?"
Irina gave him an enigmatic smile. "Ask me that again in the morning."
#
Vaughn pulled up slowly to the curb across from Sydney's house, which Sydney decided might be the most welcome site she had ever seen. Tiny lights in many colors hung above the garage, and through the front window she could see the star blinking atop the tree. If the lights were on, that meant Danny was home. She had hoped to beat him back, not wanting to explain her absence, but she also looked forward to seeing him again.
"It's a nice house," Vaughn said as he flipped off the headlights and engine. "It reminds me a little of the one I grew up in."
"We like it," Sydney replied quietly. "Thank you for driving me home."
"It's my pleasure. I know your dad was stuck writing his report, and I didn't want you to have to take a taxi after getting grilled like that."
"Devlin is meticulous, isn't he."
He gave her an understated smile. "A little bit."
"I did OK, though, right? In giving my report."
"You did fine."
She flashed him a smile, then turned her gaze back to the house. It suddenly felt awkward, sitting here with Vaughn while her husband waited inside, yet she didn't want to leave. The moment she walked through the front door, her adventure would end. Time to return to the daily routine. No more intrigue or secrets or sexy CIA agents. Just Christmas lights and Chinese takeout. Normality.
Vaughn laid a hand on her arm. "Hey, are you all right?"
"I'm fine." She gave him a half-hearted smile. "I'm just thinking about tomorrow. And the next day. It's going to be difficult, going back to the way things were before."
Vaughn's fingers tightened around her arm, and he looked away.
She asked, "What is it?"
After a moment, he responded hesitantly, as though he were reluctant to speak. "Devlin asked me to pass something onto you. I didn't know whether to actually do it ..."
"Vaughn, what is it?"
His jaw tightened and he sighed. "He said to tell you that the agency is in need of some good, young talent. To become field agents."
She drew back from him in disbelief. "Are you saying that Devlin is offering me a job? With the CIA?"
Vaughn nodded. "He was impressed with your conduct during this whole thing with your mother. He thinks you have what it takes."
Sydney felt lightheaded and somewhat detached, like in a dream, and she fell back heavily into her seat. Was Vaughn really saying this to her? She had fantasized so many times about such a moment, after setting aside yet another spy novel and settling into bed for the night. Agent Sydney Hecht. A far cry from a high school English teacher.
She licked her lips nervously. "Devlin thinks I could be a CIA field agent."
"Yes."
"What do you think?"
"I think you could be one of the best," he said, looking her straight in the eye. "But Sydney, you have to understand that it's not an easy life. There's months of rigorous training, and if you pass all the tests and become field rated, it becomes even more difficult. It's dangerous work. You're away from home a lot. You couldn't tell anyone about what you really do, not even Danny. And once you're in, it's tough to get back out."
She looked down at her lap. "You're saying I shouldn't do it."
"I'm saying that you should do it only if you can't imagine yourself doing anything else. This isn't something to enter into if you have any doubts, no matter how small."
Sydney could hear the urgency in his tone. He really meant it, and he should know, having gone through it all himself. She wondered if Vaughn were given the chance to go back and choose again, whether he would still go into this line of work.
"Thank you for being straight with me," she said. "Does my dad know about this?"
Vaughn gave a short laugh. "Are you kidding? If he knew I was involved in telling you any of this, he would have me for lunch. Why do you think Devlin asked me to give you the offer in private?"
Her euphoria crashed around her. "He doesn't want me with the CIA."
"He wants to protect you. But Syd, this is your decision. Not his."
"I know." She looked up at him. "But I can't give you an answer now. I need time to think about it."
"I understand."
She nodded and reached for the door handle.
"Sydney."
She looked back at him, her hand frozen on the door.
"There's something else, completely unrelated to the CIA. About what happened in Paris --"
"I'm fine. Really. You had it worse than I did."
"I'm not talking about that. I mean before. At the hotel."
"Oh." She ducked her head to hide her reddening cheeks. The kiss, he meant. The one she almost didn't pull away from. She had hoped to avoid talking about that tonight, but it seemed Vaughn was determined to bring it into the open.
"You don't have to say anything," he said after she fell silent. "But there's something I need you to say to you. I know that kissing you was wrong. You're married, and I had no right. But, Sydney..." He paused and took a trembling breath. "Syd, I don't regret it. I can't."
She glanced up, and their eyes met and locked. He had looked at her this way before, with so much heat and longing, but she hadn't recognized it for what it was until now. Or maybe she had simply been too scared to acknowledge it. Vaughn didn't want her friendship, he wanted her love. He was asking for it now without a word, and despite what he said, he desperately wanted an answer from her. But she couldn't tell him what he wanted to hear. She wasn't free to do so.
"That night," she said carefully, "was a low point for me. I had found out my mother was alive and an enemy of the United States. My father was a double-agent, and people he works with might be after me. I was exhausted and scared, and I felt so alone. I needed comfort. I'm sorry I didn't think through the consequences beforehand because I never meant to hurt you."
"Comfort." He repeated the word with barely concealed revulsion, and she winced. "Is that all it was to you?"
Sydney closed her eyes, to escape the disappointment on his face, and her mind skipped back to that night. That moment. His hand caressing her cheek, the warmth of his body, the exquisite feel of his mouth meshed with hers. She had wanted him badly. She still did. But as much as it pained her, she couldn't tell him the truth. He deserved a woman who could devote herself to him completely, not a woman already wearing a band of gold, and the sooner he moved past her the better for both of them.
Her hand closed around the door handle and she clicked it open. "Good night, Vaughn," she said, trying but failing to keep her voice steady.
She heard his long, shuddering breath, but she didn't turn back. One more look at him and she might lose her resolve.
"Good night, Sydney."
She swallowed hard and stepped out of the car.
Vaughn watched her cross the street and make her way across the yard. The front door opened before she reached it, and a man came running out, down the porch stairs, to engulf her in a tight embrace. There under the multicolored lights, he kissed her soundly. Sydney kissed him back, and Vaughn looked away.
No tears threatened. Those would come later. All he felt now was an emptiness, a vacancy where before he had held onto a shred of hope that she might return his feelings. That someday she might choose him over Danny. He had been a fool to cling to such a dream. She had given her vows to another and had taken his name, and that was it.
Still, he couldn't ignore the heat in their kiss; she had shown a passion that clearly matched his own. That had been no mere search for comfort, no matter what she might claim now, but she had made her choice. He would honor it.
He watched as Danny and Sydney walked into the house and shut the door. He restarted the engine, turned on the radio and headed home.
#
Danny snored softly with one arm draped over Sydney's stomach, but despite hours of trying, Sydney couldn't follow him into sleep. She could hardly close her eyes without replaying it all in her mind. The first time she saw her mother in the school parking lot, meeting Vaughn at the warehouse, learning that her father was in the CIA, leaving for Paris, the kidnapping and the escape.
The danger had been real, and she had been frightened, but at the same time she had never felt so alive. Going back to a classroom would never compare with the life she could lead. She wasn't naive; she knew the CIA's job offer came with a price: She could never tell Danny or her friends, and one day she might not come home at all. Was it worth it? Was all that a price she was willing to pay?
She sighed, moved aside her husband's arm and slipped out of bed. Danny rolled over but did not wake, and Sydney pulled on a robe and headed out to the living room. She sat on the couch for what seemed hours and stared out the window, watching Christmas lights blink on houses down the street. Lying to Danny over the past week had hurt them both deeply, and she wasn't sure she could make a habit of it and maintain a healthy relationship. Maybe she should dismiss the whole thing. Maybe it was only a fool's dream.
She sighed and got up from the couch, stretching muscles that hadn't moved in too long. She took a few steps back toward the bedroom but then stopped. Something caught her eye. There, in the corner behind the Christmas tree was something small and dark.
She reached back and her hand closed on something soft. It was Tudy the stuffed bear, sitting as patiently as could be, with something white slipped between his paws. A piece of paper. She took Tudy back to the couch and anxiously unfolded the paper. On it were written only three words.
"Truth takes time."
Her mother had left this, of that Sydney was certain. Jack had told her of his encounter with Irina in the house, so she had had ample opportunity to leave a message for her daughter. But why, and why these cryptic words? Perhaps she had meant to remind Sydney that she wasn't gone, that this wasn't over. Truth takes time. It sounded like a promise that perhaps one day, Sydney would understand everything -- the meaning behind the box, her mother's intentions, the reason why she abandoned her family in the first place and why she had returned. Truth takes time.
But Sydney would only learn if she prepared, studied, readied for that truth. And the tools she needed weren't Shakespearian plays and boxes of chalk, as she would find in her familiar classroom. No, what she needed could come from only one place, and the chance to seize on it lay before her now, ready for the taking if only she had the courage to go forward. But what about Danny? What about the danger and lonliness? Those consequences, she decided, would resolve themselves in time.
Her mind made up, she left Tudy on the couch and marched into the kitchen to find paper and a pen. She sat at the table and started to write.
To: Principal Snyder
From: Sydney Hecht
Mr. Snyder,
This letter is to inform you of my resignation, effective immediately.
She stopped to study the words, and as their full meaning sunk in, a slow smile crept across her face. Tomorrow she would deliver this to the school, and then go directly to CIA headquarters to talk with Director Devlin.
So this night wasn't the end of her adventure after all, she thought as she resumed her writing. No, it wasn't an ending at all. It was only the beginning.