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Chapter Seven:

Prophecy

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She was trapped beneath the surface of the water, could no longer tell which way was up and which was down. Her lungs were growing tight from lack of air and in her dizzy state, she felt her mind slip back to her torture. They had done this to her, submerging her in water, depriving her of oxygen until she had nearly passed out from the pain. She knew that the harder she fought the pull of the current, the more she would suffer in the end so she gave in to the tide. Her eyes struggled to stay open but her body had other plans. She felt herself beginning to drift and her thoughts turned to Vaughn, as they always did in the last moment of consciousness. Vaughn. Her guardian angel, where was he now?

A hand gripped her wrist suddenly, pulling her out of the rush of the current. She felt a familiar body wrap around her own as he treaded the water. He kicked toward the surface and they broke the water together, gasping desperately for air. She opened her eyes, the saltwater stinging them badly. Everything seemed to be a blur in the night, the moon on the water, the cliff rising above them, Vaughn holding her tight to him as he swam for the shore.

Finally she felt the warm sand beneath her feet, but that too quickly vanished as Vaughn gained his footing and swept her up into his arms. He struggled onto the shore, clearly exhausted, the weight of his bookbag with the painting inside almost dragging him down. He had pulled it off of Sydney's back when they had gone under the surface of the water, seeing how quickly she had sunk to the bottom with it on.

At last, exhaustion overwhelmed him and he collapsed on the beach, Sydney still cradled in his arms. He held her protectively to him even when he could move no more. Her sight became clearer and she cupped his cheek with one hand.

"You okay?"

He chuckled softly and held her closer to him, "Never better."

Sydney nestled closer to him and turned her eyes to the house on the cliff above them. An orange glow permeated the sky above them and very faintly, she could still see the fire burning. With a heavy sigh, she collapsed once more against Vaughn. He wrapped his arms around her as a wave of exhaustion sweep over him. The last twelve hours of his life had been the most emotionally draining he think he'd ever known. All he wanted to do was lay down and go to sleep, here on the beach, with Sydney safe in his arms.

They were far from safe however, they needed to get out of there and fast. The Covenant would be coming soon and they would discover that Sydney had betrayed them. They would hunt her like an animal; Vaughn couldn't stand the thought.

"Where do we go?" Her words were muffled as she spoke into his chest, too weary to move her head from its position. Even soaked to the bone and bedraggled as she was, she was still the most beautiful sight Vaughn had ever seen.

"We'll take my car and we'll leave. There is a safehouse in Paris but the Covenant will have agents stationed on every corner by the time we arrive, looking for us." Vaughn sighed heavily and sat up, stroking her hair gently. "It looks like we're on the run."

Sydney couldn't help but smile at the thought, despite the circumstances surrounding them. She wouldn't want to be on the run with anyone but him.

"Well then, Agent Vaughn. I suggest we start running."

They swept the house one last time, taking what they needed and making certain that there was no evidence of their passage. By the time they headed out on the quiet road, the sunrise was looming on the horizon. The night behind them seemed almost like a dream. They sat together in the small car as it hurtled over the road; Vaughn drove with one hand, the other clutched Sydney's tightly. The insanity of what they were doing didn't matter to them; they were still so caught up in one another. Holding on to each other for dear life, they sped away as fast as possible.

Sydney, curled up in the passenger seat, sat back and watched Vaughn think. She tried to keep from dozing off, forcing her eyes open so she wouldn't miss a single moment with him. His forehead was wrinkled in that adorable way that she loved, she knew that he was worrying, trying desperately to figure out a plan. She knew that she should be doing the same but this was the first time she had been able to relax in months, maybe even years. Her schedule before her abduction hadn't been the most luxurious.

Her musings were interrupted by Vaughn's voice, bringing her back to reality. "We'll head for Calais," he said. She noted that they indeed seemed to be heading in the Northerly direction. "Once we're there we can contact Jack and let him know the situation as best we can. From there we can get a ferry to England where he can meet us."

Sydney bolted upright, all sleepiness vanishing instantly. Vaughn glanced over at her in alarm, "What's wrong?"

"My father…" Sydney shook her head and smiled at him, cursing the tears that rose up in her eyes once more. "I've just missed him so much."

"He's missed you too, Syd." There was a note of tenderness in Vaughn's voice that Sydney had never heard him use when talking about her father. No, if there was anything between Michael Vaughn and Jack Bristow, it was not tenderness. But then, they had both been through a lot when they had believed she was dead. Perhaps they were getting along now.

Sydney slumped back into her seat and almost snorted aloud at the idea. 'When pigs fly,' she thought.

Vaughn glanced over at her again and Sydney smiled as her eyes closed, "You're going to get us killed if you don't keep your eyes on the road, Vaughn."

He chuckled under his breath and dutifully returned his eyes to the road. Smoothing her hair gently without even looking at her must be a talent, she thought to herself. "You should get some sleep, Syd. You need it."

She smiled at his caring words, half asleep already. "I love you, Vaughn."

Vaughn felt a lump rise in his throat and he swallowed it with a broad smile. "I love you too, Sydney."

In the shared quiet, the two of them raced toward freedom as the sun finally broke through the clouds to shine down on them. Faintly, Vaughn realized that he finally had his wish, to see the sun in France shining down on Sydney Bristow, and it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

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She awoke to the sight of the sun settling on the horizon; the car was stopped on the side of an empty road. Beyond her window, she could see that they were parked on the edge of a hill, grassy meadows spreading out into the distance. Sitting up, Sydney stretched and looked for Vaughn, he was not in the driver's seat.

Glancing around to make sure there was no one around, she loosened the hood of her jacket that concealed her blonde hair. Opening the door, she stepped out the car, swaying slightly as her body cried out in pain against the movement. Wincing, she rubbed the back of her neck to relieve the tension that had built up there.

She could see Vaughn now; he was sitting in the grass, head down. His backpack had been discarded beside him and she could see that he held something in his lap. His eyes were focused on it, studying intently, the same way she had seen him study countless reports in the past. The colors of the impending twilight played across his skin and with the bright sky behind him, he almost appeared a shadow of something much larger.

She approached him quietly, not wanting to disturb him, but curious as to what was going on. He looked up as she knelt beside him, her eyes on his face, dark with concern. "What's wrong?" She asked softly. She was surprised to see tears staining his cheeks, the two of them had done a good deal of crying in the past twenty four hours but there was something new in his eyes. Something she had seen once before in her own face. Wordlessly, he looked back down to the object of his scrutiny. Following his gaze, Sydney gasped at what she saw.

The saltwater had clearly seeped into the box when she had jumped into the ocean, corroding the paint to the point where it was flaking away at the touch. Vaughn had ripped most of the paint away; it was heaped in a small pile beside him. Clearly visible beneath the paint was an illustration in the same style as the picture of her had been done. This time, however, the drawing was not of her, it was of Vaughn.

The paper was faded and somewhat worn away by time. Thick sprawling text that Sydney had long ago learned to associate with Milo Rambaldi overlaid the entire page, but Sydney could clearly recognize the man depicted in the illustration. It was Vaughn; there was no question about it.

He looked up at her, meeting her eyes silently and she recognized what she saw there. The same expression of disbelief and fear that had been in her own eyes when he had first shown her page 47 of the Rambaldi text. The page with the prophecy about her.

"Oh my god," Sydney leaned in for a closer look. It was unmistakable; this prophecy was about him.

"I couldn't figure out why my father would hide this painting," Vaughn's voice was flat and seemingly devoid of emotion but Sydney could hear the way it trembled. "The more I drove, the more the question plagued me. I had to know, and now I do." He couldn't take his eyes from the illustration; the words were starting to blur together in his vision.

"For years, I've been told that my resemblance to my father is almost uncanny." He let out a harsh laugh. "Even your mother told me that. My father must have known that this prophecy was about me. He never broke a rule in his life until the very end, and it was because of me." Vaughn shook his head. "Why didn't he just destroy it?"

Sydney placed her hand tenderly over his that was gripping the frame tightly. "Maybe he meant for you to see it someday, we don't know what this prophecy says. We don't know if it means anything bad just yet." Sydney slid one arm around him and leaned her head against his. "No matter what his reasons, Vaughn, I'm sure that your father was trying to protect you."

Vaughn shook his head, "I wish I knew that. This makes me question everything, Syd. The last mission my father went on was to retrieve this Rambaldi prophecy. He was killed by your mother, who was hunting Rambaldi artifacts, but not before he hid the painting in my childhood home." There was a note of hysteria in his voice, his whole world had been turned upside down by this, she knew the feeling.

"You were recruited by Sloane to work for SD-6 and inevitably put in charge of searching for the Rambaldi artifacts right after Danny's death. Within months we found the first prophecy which not only centers around a five hundred-year portrait of you, but also refers specifically to the painting of Mt. Subasio. Now we find this painting and discover the second prophecy hidden behind it. A prophecy about me." He dropped the battered drawing on the ground in front of him and stood abruptly. Sydney watched him quietly, waiting for his anger to subside. He had raised a lot of good points but she didn't have an answer to any of his questions.

"What the hell does it all mean?" Vaughn shouted in frustration to the darkening sky. "Are we supposed to believe that everything in our lives have been predetermined five hundred years ago by a crackpot painter? His paintings aren't even that good."

Sydney couldn't help but laugh softly at those words. At the sound, Vaughn whirled around to face her, as if seeing her there for the first time. All the rage and anger drained from his expression and he looked at her, defeated. "Do we have no choice in our own lives?"

Sydney stood, stepping over the prophecy discarded on the ground. She drew close to him and reached out for his hand. "I don't know, Vaughn. I've never been one to believe in prophecy or fate but so much in our lives cannot be explained logically." She squeezed his hand and smiled tightly. "I can't help but admit however, that it is somewhat romantic to think that we might be destined to be together."

He smiled at her, unable to help himself. Just the simple touch of her hand eased his heart tenfold. "I've always known that," he whispered. "I just wish our being together didn't mean the end of the world or something dramatic like that."

Sydney shook her head. "Don't jump to conclusions. We don't know what the prophecy says yet; maybe you're going to save the world. Anything is possible."

His eyes darkened as they flickered from the prophecy to her face, "I guess this means we're not going to destroy it?"

Sydney frowned; it was ironic how determined she had been to destroy the painting when it had to do with her. Now that it concerned Vaughn, she had to know what it meant. She couldn't risk losing him.

"When we reach my father, he'll know what to do about it." She bent down and gathered up the strips of paint, putting them into the backpack. Cracking the frame of the painting, she removed the parchment containing the prophecy and rolled it up in a small tube. She placed the prophecy back in the box where it would stay safe and concealed it carefully in the bag. Vaughn watched her in silence, the evening sun shimmering on him in the last few moments of daylight. She turned to him, his eyes dark with fear, his hair aglow with golden light and for a moment, she truly believed that he could save the world. He had certainly saved her.

He reached out for her and gently; she took his hand, leading him back to the car. It hadn't been safe to stop in an open area like this for so long, they needed to catch up on the time they had lost.

Trading positions, Sydney started the car and the two of them headed off down the road again. Her hand was still clasped firmly in Vaughn's as he slumped back against the seat. His eyes were fixed on the passing scenery but they saw nothing that passed by, they were looking inward for answers that he didn't hold.

"This is never going to stop," his words were uttered in a whisper so low that she barely heard them. She glanced over at him in concern, his face was gray in the shadows and she could not see his eyes. Squeezing his hand, Sydney returned her eyes to the road ahead.

"Yes, it will. We will make sure of that. It has to mean something that both of us are featured prominently in those prophecies. Whatever future Rambaldi predicted, we're caught up in it now and there's no going back. All we can do is try to figure out a way to use his predictions against him. Christ, he's been dead for five hundred years, he is not our biggest adversary, it's the people who take his words so literally that they will die for his cause. We will beat them, Vaughn. Together, we can do it; we'll figure it all out. I promise." She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it softly. He turned his fingers to stroke her face softly.

"Yesterday, I thought you were dead. My whole world had fallen apart and I didn't even want to put the pieces back together. You were all that mattered. Since the moment I woke up on the beach, I found my world whole again, but within the same span of time; it was turned upside down. Some things will never change though."

"Like what?"

He smiled softly and closed his eyes. "You are all that matters. I promise you that I will die before they take you again, Syd. I promise you that I won't give up hope. Because I have you back and I have never asked for a greater source of strength than you."

Sydney bit her lip at his words, fighting to maintain her composure. He leaned over to kiss her hand softly and then sank back against the seat.

"Don't promise me your death," she whispered.

He shook his head, "I promise you life."

She nodded, a sinking feeling of unease settling over her. There was too much at stake her, they were gambling with the very meaning of their existance. How long would they run before the truth caught up with them?

The car sped on across the miles, Sydney uneasy at the wheel and the man she loved, sleeping beside her.

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"Agent, thank you for agreeing to see me. I understand that your last mission was a difficult one but you did a good job, as usual." Mckenas Cole sat at his desk, facing the young woman seated before him. The spacious office did nothing to relieve her sense of suffocation and she cleared her throat daintily before responding to him.

"Thank you for the compliment Mr. Cole, but I'm not here to be flattered by you. I'm simply here for my next assignment."

Cole stood in front of the woman and folded his arms. He was sure that he cut an imposing figure but she didn't look very impressed. With an indignant sniff, he handed her the file on his desk.

"Agents Michael Vaughn and Sydney Bristow, they killed an entire team we had set into place, in France last night." He watched as she flipped through the folder, an expression of surprise crossing her face as she studied Sydney's picture.

"How did the programming fail?" She looked up at Cole, accusingly. "I thought we were sure that she was broken. She was supposed to become Julia Thorne." She snapped the folder closed and glared up at Cole. She was not a woman who was accustomed to waiting for an answer to her questions.

Cole shifted uneasily, unable to stop the movement before she caught it. "We don't know the answer to that yet, but the situation is more complicated than we knew."

"Explain yourself, Cole." Her voice had lost all pretense of civility now, he swore he felt a chill emanate from her.

"Agent Thorne was sent to retrieve a Rambaldi artifact, a painting that we've been searching over thirty years for. We recently received intel that this painting was last seen in the possesion of a CIA agent, a one William Vaughn, father of Michael Vaughn. We suspected that the painting had been hidden in Vaughn's childhood home."

"I am still waiting for the explanation." Her words were like ice, her eyes like daggers. He tried not to flinch under her scrutiny.

"Michael Vaughn was Sydney's handler when she worked for SD-6. More importantly, he was her lover." Cole sneered at the words, at the fact that this man had captured Sydney Bristow's heart. "We have learned that Agent Vaughn was in the house in France when Sydney was sent in to retrieve the painting. He must have recognized her, and it's possible that seeing Vaughn again may have triggered some memories in Sydney that did not belong to Julia. Or…" Cole trailed off with a frown, unwilling to complete his last thought.

"Or Sydney Bristow was never broken in the first place. It is entirely possible that she has been playing us the whole time." She finished his thought for him, her words cut into him cruelly. He despised the thought that she had tricked them, but he knew it was entirely possible.

The female agent stood with an indignant sniff, collecting the files from the table in front of her. "You are a disgrace to our operation, Mr. Cole. You were in charge of Sydney Bristow and not only has she escaped, she currently has a priceless Rambaldi artifact in her possesion. An artifact which is vital to the plans of our organization."

Anger rose in Mckenas Cole at her words, before she could open her mouth again his hand rose to slap her hard across the face. "That's enough." He ordered.

She clenched her teeth and spit blood at him, he did not flinch. "Your mission," he continued as if she had never spoken. "Is to find these two agents and bring them back to us. Sydney Bristow still has a job to do and we cannot risk Michael Vaughn returning to the CIA with this information."

"And if they fight back?"

"Kill them."

Her face twisted into a cruel smile, she took no greater pleasure than watching the suffering of others. She would see Sydney Bristow broken before her mission was complete.

Cole watched her carefully, "I trust that you will not fail me, Lauren?"

Lauren Reed shook her head, blonde locks falling across her face. Her smile grew wider and even more cruel as she considered the possibilities of what she might do to these two agents. "I never have, Mr. Cole."

With that said, she turned and strode from his office.

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