It had been a week since Sydney disappeared. Vaughn was still in hysterics, but he was calming down a little. His tears had stopped long enough for him to read the letter that was left with the pen.

Dear Michael,

I know you probably had misgivings about reading this. My intention was to make it look like a murder, so classically this would be a ransom note. I need you to know that I am okay. But I've been fed up with this spy life for too long now. I can't stand not being able to tell Francie the truth about where I work, I can't stand having to look Arvin Sloane directly in the eye and lie to him, day by day. But most of all, I can't stand the stress you cause in my life. How we can't date or the Alliance will se us, how we can't break protocol in the headquarters and display our affections to one another.

But there is a way to change this. Tomorrow, meet me in the park. I can give you a ticket to come live with me. I can't tell you where, but I can tell you wee won't need locks on our doors, and we'll learn how to surf: together.

This pen, enclosed with the letter, has been something of a family heirloom to me. It meant a lot to me when I got it, and now I want you to have it. Keep it with you at all times, as a reminder of all the times we've shared, and our intense love for one another.

I love you, forever and for always,

Sydney.

When he read it, Vaughn immediately latched onto the second paragraph. The chance to leave his world of deception was tempting, and to live with Sydney was icing on the cake. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he could never, and would never, leave the CIA. His life was with the government, and he knew that this proposition would be foolish and wasteful. The morning after she ran, Vaughn turned on the news.

"…And the mystery around CIA officer Sydney Bristow continues," the anchor said, with a picture appearing over her shoulder. Those same mud-brown eyes that Mike loved so much stared directly into him. He recognized the picture as her CIA profile picture, and he twitched with his decision to stay. "Bristow's not the only member of her family to strangely disappear; Almost thirty years ago, Sydney's mother, Laura Bristow aka Irina Derevko, faked her own death. After successfully infiltrating the CIA through agent Jack Bristow, Derevko returned to her native Russian and continued working for her own organization."

Vaughn pulled out a beer from the fridge and sat back down. "Hurry up and talk about Sydney!" he grumbled under his breath.

"Just yesterday, Sydney's car exploded, and left no trace of the Double Agent: the is no sign of here anywhere. In other news…"

But with that statement, Vaughn plucked a bottle cap at the TV and shut it off. He dressed in a suit and headed to the Operations Center.

***

"Thanks again for letting me stay here, with you, Will," Francie managed between sobs.

"No problem. They'll probably stay cleaning out your house, looking for clues, for a day or two," Will said, grunting while putting down her bags. Then, with a quick kiss, he told her, "You're welcome here any time, anyway."

Smiling, she sat down on his couch. In a quick movement, she wiped away her tears. "Will?" she asked, "Did Sydney mention anything important before she, you know…"

"No, nothing important. Why?"

"She told me something, and she was going to tell you, but it's too late…" Francie trailed off, and bit her lip. "Sydney doesn't work at a bank, Will."

The former reporter, who was searching hard for some ice cream, became chilled. "What do you mean?" he asked with a quavering voice.

"She works for the CIA. And Danny wasn't just randomly killed, he - "

"And she told you all this?" Will asked with wide eyes. The freezer door hung ajar, and Will was genuinely worried by now.

"Yeah, why?"

With a look of pure concern, he turned towards the door. " We have to go."

"What? Why?"

"NOW, Francie!"

***

"Jack, unless you can offer me some solid proof that your daughter is still alive, I'm afraid there's nothing I can do." Kendall was just in one of those moods, as always, and Jack was on the receiving end.

"Do you have any children, Kendall?"

"Do you have any judgement, Jack? It wouldn't seem so, since you're about to ramble on about Paternal Instincts!"

"Or maybe I would lecture you on hope, how it's the only thing that can keep a father going!" By now, the entire L.A. division of the CIA was watching the heated argument. "She's all that's kept me here after Derevko turned herself in!

Looking around the room, Kendall gave his final argument. "But there is nothing to believe in! She's de - "

The word never finished as two massive hands gripped Kendall's throat tightly. But hope re-instated itself when Vaughn charged through the doors, parading the letter in his hand.

"Jack, she's alive!"

At the same time, Will entered a side door, dragging Francie by the wrist. "Assistant Director!" he cried. A blue Kendall looked up at him. "Sydney told Francie here about her involvement with the CIA. She must have planned this all! She's alive, sir!" Smiling, he turned around and shouted it for all to hear. "ALIVE!"

Kendall turned to Jack. Clearly exasperated, he told him, "You have 2 weeks!"