Part 2: Airplane to Nowhere
The ride back on the plane was eerily silent. Vaughn sat by himself in the corner, pushing off anyone's attempts to console him. Weiss was not being his usual comedian self, but simply staring out the window blankly.
Sydney just sat in her seat and went over the operation mentally, trying desperately to find out what when wrong. Well, besides the blatantly obvious. If Irina Derevko hadn't shown up, the team could have just retrieved the book and gotten out. They would not have one member dead and a few others injured.
Why is it that every time her mother showed up, something terrible happened? That seemed to be the question of the year for Sydney Bristow. A few weeks ago, she wouldn't have been upset at all that Lauren Reed was dead. But of course she had to die now, after they had become friends. She couldn't say she didn't enjoy that punch she had given her to convince the NSC she had really been captured, but she had gotten that out of her system now. And for what? She had begun to trust the woman whom the world would think that impossible. She had taken a huge chance to help her, never mind that it was her fault she was captured in the first place.
But it didn't matter now, she thought bitterly to herself. Was Vaughn ever going to be able to trust her again? Deep in her heart, Sydney knew that she wasn't responsible for her mother's actions, but that didn't make her feel any better. Irina Derevko had killed Bill Vaughn and Michael Vaughn was strong enough to not put that on Sydney's conscience any more than it already was. But could he be magnanimous enough to not resent Sydney just the tiniest bit for the death of his wife also?
Another question of the year, one Sydney feared she would never know the answer to. They got off the plane silently at headquarters. The air between what was left of the team was thick with emotion and raw pain. Sydney couldn't see how they would sit through a debriefing in this state. She couldn't see them putting up with Lindsey's garbage like this.
But they walked calmly down to the conference room anyway. They sat in their normal seats and pretended absolutely nothing was wrong, even though the world as they knew it was starting to crumble in around them.
Lindsey entered a few minutes later. The scowl on his face was a definite predictor of everything he could say to further aggravate the situation. Almost immediately he pronounced the incompetence of the entire CIA and how this was a "terribly slip shot effort that will go on all of their records."
No one fought him. Out of his ego, he assumed wrongly that they actually felt bad for their "failure as agents." Really, they were just too drained to care. Sydney recognized the fact that she should have stuck up for Weiss as joint-commander, and for Vaughn as being more than a little stunned when his wife was shot dead in the chest. She recognized it, but she decided to let it go.
It would cause trouble later, but Sydney just didn't care.
When she showed up for work the next day, it was sickeningly normal. The same analysts sat at their computers, picking at encoded text on the screens. Her father still sat stoically at his desk typing the DCI knows what. Lindsey was still annoying, and Agent Weiss still cracked the same bad jokes.
There was only one thing missing.
Vaughn was had, out of some inner sense of duty, still come to the office that day. He was at his desk shuffling through papers looking as if he hadn't slept, which, Sydney reminded herself, he probably hadn't.
"There's a briefing in fifteen minutes," he said blankly when she sat down at her desk.
"Really?" she replied, equally monotone, "I thought Lindsey was satisfied with the hell he gave us last night."
"Apparently not," Vaughn rubbed his forehead in irritation.
"Do you want some coffee?" Sydney asked gently. It was the best she could do him. He looked like he could use it.
"I'm fine, thanks." Sydney nodded, more to herself than to him as he was focused intently on the transcripts in front of him. She shortly wondered if he really saw them or was just looking for a distraction. She stood up with a small smile.
"Weiss, I'm worried about Vaughn," she stated after she crossed the room to wear Weiss was sipping his coffee tiredly.
He nodded. "I know. He'll be okay. He's just in shock right now, Syd. He was like this when." he trailed off, realizing who he was talking to.
"When? When I went missing?" She pressed.
He looked down into his coffee. "Yeah. Only then he didn't have to write an after-action report detailing exactly how it was that you died."
The ride back on the plane was eerily silent. Vaughn sat by himself in the corner, pushing off anyone's attempts to console him. Weiss was not being his usual comedian self, but simply staring out the window blankly.
Sydney just sat in her seat and went over the operation mentally, trying desperately to find out what when wrong. Well, besides the blatantly obvious. If Irina Derevko hadn't shown up, the team could have just retrieved the book and gotten out. They would not have one member dead and a few others injured.
Why is it that every time her mother showed up, something terrible happened? That seemed to be the question of the year for Sydney Bristow. A few weeks ago, she wouldn't have been upset at all that Lauren Reed was dead. But of course she had to die now, after they had become friends. She couldn't say she didn't enjoy that punch she had given her to convince the NSC she had really been captured, but she had gotten that out of her system now. And for what? She had begun to trust the woman whom the world would think that impossible. She had taken a huge chance to help her, never mind that it was her fault she was captured in the first place.
But it didn't matter now, she thought bitterly to herself. Was Vaughn ever going to be able to trust her again? Deep in her heart, Sydney knew that she wasn't responsible for her mother's actions, but that didn't make her feel any better. Irina Derevko had killed Bill Vaughn and Michael Vaughn was strong enough to not put that on Sydney's conscience any more than it already was. But could he be magnanimous enough to not resent Sydney just the tiniest bit for the death of his wife also?
Another question of the year, one Sydney feared she would never know the answer to. They got off the plane silently at headquarters. The air between what was left of the team was thick with emotion and raw pain. Sydney couldn't see how they would sit through a debriefing in this state. She couldn't see them putting up with Lindsey's garbage like this.
But they walked calmly down to the conference room anyway. They sat in their normal seats and pretended absolutely nothing was wrong, even though the world as they knew it was starting to crumble in around them.
Lindsey entered a few minutes later. The scowl on his face was a definite predictor of everything he could say to further aggravate the situation. Almost immediately he pronounced the incompetence of the entire CIA and how this was a "terribly slip shot effort that will go on all of their records."
No one fought him. Out of his ego, he assumed wrongly that they actually felt bad for their "failure as agents." Really, they were just too drained to care. Sydney recognized the fact that she should have stuck up for Weiss as joint-commander, and for Vaughn as being more than a little stunned when his wife was shot dead in the chest. She recognized it, but she decided to let it go.
It would cause trouble later, but Sydney just didn't care.
When she showed up for work the next day, it was sickeningly normal. The same analysts sat at their computers, picking at encoded text on the screens. Her father still sat stoically at his desk typing the DCI knows what. Lindsey was still annoying, and Agent Weiss still cracked the same bad jokes.
There was only one thing missing.
Vaughn was had, out of some inner sense of duty, still come to the office that day. He was at his desk shuffling through papers looking as if he hadn't slept, which, Sydney reminded herself, he probably hadn't.
"There's a briefing in fifteen minutes," he said blankly when she sat down at her desk.
"Really?" she replied, equally monotone, "I thought Lindsey was satisfied with the hell he gave us last night."
"Apparently not," Vaughn rubbed his forehead in irritation.
"Do you want some coffee?" Sydney asked gently. It was the best she could do him. He looked like he could use it.
"I'm fine, thanks." Sydney nodded, more to herself than to him as he was focused intently on the transcripts in front of him. She shortly wondered if he really saw them or was just looking for a distraction. She stood up with a small smile.
"Weiss, I'm worried about Vaughn," she stated after she crossed the room to wear Weiss was sipping his coffee tiredly.
He nodded. "I know. He'll be okay. He's just in shock right now, Syd. He was like this when." he trailed off, realizing who he was talking to.
"When? When I went missing?" She pressed.
He looked down into his coffee. "Yeah. Only then he didn't have to write an after-action report detailing exactly how it was that you died."