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Chapter Eight:
Beauty in the Breakdown
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Vaughn knocked on the door to the bathroom softly, Sydney had been in there for under twenty minutes but even that much time out of his sight made him nervous. He was afraid that he would open the door and she wouldn't be there and this whole thing would be yet another hallucination conjured up by his grieving mind.
His eyes strayed to his bookbag on the bed, he could practically feel the prophecy that was held inside. It was as if the piece of paper held a presence all its own that was constantly hovering in the back of his mind, a reminder that this was all too real.
"I'll be out in a minute," Sydney's voice filtered through the cracks in the door and Vaughn sighed in relief, leaning his head aginst the door. She was still there, he could breathe again.
They had driven all night until Vaughn had woken to the sight of Sydney nodding at the wheel. His heart had practically leapt out of his chest at his carelessness, she had been through so much in the past two days and it was starting to take its toll on her. They were both exhausted, mentally and physically, he had insisted that they stop at the nearest hotel. Instead they had found a small bed and breakfast that had been set up for tourists coming from Paris to the beach. Sydney had been reluctant to stop at such an unsecured location but Vaughn had insisted. The sight of her seated at the wheel, pale faced and clutching the steering wheel as her eyes drooped had terrified him. He would not lose her to forces they could not control such as exhaustion.
He heard the shower running in the bathroom, checking his watch, he touched his hair gingerly. The dye had dried to a stiff crust, black flakes coming away on his fingertips. Turning the knob to the bathroom, he found it open. He could see Sydney's blurry form through the glass. Her sillhoutte moving beneath the water stole his breath away. Shedding his clothes quickly, he slid open the door and slipped inside.
She was standing with her back to him, leaning against the wall, head resting on her hands. They dye ran down the bare skin of her back in ebony rivulets and he reached out to smooth his hand over her shoulderblades. She inhaled sharply at his touch but did not turn to face him.
There were new scars marking her flesh, faded lines across her back like those a whip might make. He swallowed his anger and traced the curve of her back soothingly. He had seen her kick the ass of men three times her size without breaking a sweat but the thought of her tied up like an animal, whipped and beaten, broken into pieces, blinded him with white hot rage.
Slipping his arms around her waist, he smoothed his hands up her stomach and hugged her from behind. She shivered at the touch, the water scalding their skin could not wash away the lingering memories of pain. He brushed his lips against the curve of her neck, fingers trailing up to trace the curve of her breast. She brought her hands down from the wall and covered his hands with her own. Leaning into him, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes. He kissed her throat gently, moving up to brush across her lips, igniting a fire deep inside.
His gently stroking fingers found a new scar, running from the curve of her breast to her nipple. She moaned softly at the touch, pleasure mixed with pain. He trembled with contained rage and sorrow, silently vowing to track down the men who had done this to her and kill them himself, with his bare hands.
"My Sydney," he whispered into the curve of her neck, his words tangling with her skin. "I wish that I could wash it all away."
She turned in his arms and locked her body with his, he could almost feel the imprint of every scar on her body burning his flesh and he pressed tighter against her. Hands roaming over her flesh, tenderly, lovingly. It was the touch that she had longed for in the deep darkness when she had wanted to die from the pain.
"They carved me open like a pig," her words were threaded with deep pain and despair. He felt each one burn his soul. Her fingers clutched desperately at his skin, as if she was trying to dig deeper into him and hide there.
"Stripped me naked, whipped me. Tied me to a chair and shocked me, drugged me." She shuddered in his arms and dropped her head against his shoulder. "Sometimes I would wake up and I wouldn't know where I was, who I was. Wake up with new bruises, bleeding from places I had no memory of being violated." Her tears were mingled with the black water streaking her face. "They raped me of my very existance."
His fingers were clutching her so tightly he was sure he must be hurting her, but her pain came from a far deeper source. She had maintained her identity, her sanity but her spirit had been fractured, split in two. She had managed to regain her strength to fool them, to carry out the necessary charade. But now the mask had fallen away, the shell broken and the strength of Julia was gone. He held a very weary Sydney Bristow in his arms and he could feel her pain finally breaking through the surface. She let out a broken sob and he rocked her gently beneath the spray of water. The roar of the water mirrored the pain that washed over her, the moment when the wall finally collapsed.
"I did so many horrible things, Vaughn. I killed a man in cold blood to save my own life, a defenseless man, bound and gagged like I had been so many times. It could have been me, it could have been you." She was shaking like a tree caught in the whirlwind, her roots torn from the earth. He was the only thing keeping her tied to the ground.
Vaughn ran his fingers through her slick hair, the black liquid running clear and vanishing down the drain. He leaned his forehead against hers, kissing her softly. He could think of no words to ease her suffering, could only hold her up as she broke down. Her sobbing subsided slowly and she clawed unconsciously at his flesh, leaving deep imprints of her passage.
When she spoke again, her voice had lost the note of hysteria it had previously borne. "I used to talk to you in the darkness. I swore to you that when I found you, I would tell you how much I loved you. I swore that I would never leave your side again if only given another chance."
He rocked her gently against him and closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. "I think I'll hold you to that," he whispered, his voice thick with unshed tears.
They stayed that way for a long time, bodies locked together, filling the empty spaces inside of their souls. Hands whispering across flesh, lips caressing every inch. Murmured words of love rasping across skin, between kisses. Their lips met somewhere in the middle, as they devoured one another hungrily. Comfort escalated to passion and gently, Vaughn pressed her back against the wall of the shower. Her fingers were dancing across his stomach, smoothing over his hips before meeting his hardness that pressed against her. His moan was muffled by her lips and his hips jerked involuntarily toward her. She smiled through her tears, through the kiss and wrapped her fingers around him, teasing him gently. His lips broke free from hers with a gasp and her heart surged with joy at the familiar expression on his face. His eyes were darkened in lust, replacing the pain that she had found there too often in the past few days. A slightly wicked grin creased his face and he cocked one eyebrow at her.
"You'll be the death of me yet, Sydney Bristow." He murmured huskily, his words tracing a path over her flesh that his eyes followed. He kissed her throat gently, working his way down across her chest and over the curves of her breasts. Each small touch brought her heart up into her throat until she was panting to catch her breath. His mouth embraced one nipple, lavishing the same attention on it that he gave every inch of her body. Her fingers gripped his hair tightly, pressing his head against her flesh. He continued his downward path, paying no more attention to her scars than he did anything else. They were simply a part of the journey, the exploration of her body that bore testimony to the ordeals she had experienced. Naked and revealed to prying eyes, the scars told the story of who she really was, behind every alias and disguise. They showed every weakness she had ever exhibited, and the punishment for that weakness. But to him, they showed her strength, her unbending endurance.
Dropping to his knees before her, he pressed his face into the swell of her stomach. He gazed up at her, a prayer on his lips, worshipping her body reverently with every caress.
The love in his eyes stopped her heart for a moment before he returned to the task at hand, kissing her reverently, shooting sparks of pleasure through her. Tears stained her face, the water from the shower was growing cold but every drop brought her nerves to even more heightened awareness.
Pulling him up to her, she grabbed him desperately and kissed him hard. His arms circled her again, hands coming up to grip her bottom as she wrapped her legs around him. He slid into her with a smooth motion, it was like coming home, back to the light after the long darkness. Wrapped around each other as they were, bodies moving in unison, lips tangled with whispers of love, they were complete. Two halves merging to finally form a whole.
He felt her shuddering around him as he reached the peak. Surging hard inside of her, he leaned his forehead against hers, both of them panting for air. Their eyes locked as they moved together, a bond that could not be broken. His words were uttered in a guttural groan as she pulled him deeper into him.
"Let it go, Sydney. Let yourself go. You're safe with me, no one will ever hurt you again. I love you so much, I love you, I love you, I love you." His words were mingled with her same oaths of love as her head tilted back and she let out a broken scream. It was a cry of pleasure, of pain washing away in the wave of love that consumed her. He broke the surface with her, crying out her name, rocking her gently in the aftermath.
They stayed in that position for a long time, letting the cool water wash over them, catching their breath and waiting for hearts to slow. After a few minutes, Vaughn backed up, Sydney still wrapped around him, and turned the water off. Holding her to him with one hand, he slid the door open with the other. Grabbing some towels from the rack, he wrapped one around the both of them, opening the door to the bedroom.
He carried her to the bed, her legs still wrapped around him, arms circling his neck as her head drowsed slightly against his shoulder. Gently, he set her down on the bed, wrapping the towel around her gently and rubbing her skin dry. She looked up at him with wide, wondering eyes and smiled. Her smile was infectious, those dimples got him every time and he felt himself grinning back at her.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered. He rubbed the towel over her freshly dyed hair, her skin seemed like pale fire against the black of her hair.
"You don't look too bad yourself," Sydney reached out to run her fingers through his hair. He caught her hand as it moved over his face and kissed the palm of her hand. Her hand rested lightly on his skin, cupping his face.
They gazed at each other for a long time, reveling once more in each other's presence. All fear and anger was gone, all thoughts of evil men who would be hunting them, of broken lives that they had left behind. Together, in the aftermath of making love, there was nothing but the two of them. There were no unfamiliar scars or unknown identities, there was nothing but pure love, untainted by the shadows that haunted both of their souls.
Taking her into his arms, they embraced once more and fell back on the bed. Entwined and complete, they curled close to one another, seeking the warmth of love that is complete and true, the love they had both been bereft of for so long.
Naked in the twilight, they curled together, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces molded from clay to match one another. The sky darkened outside and they fell into a deep sleep of peace, the first either of them had known in months.
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Lauren Reed stood in the small room, empty of all human presence. It appeared that the room had been unihabited for weeks and the desk clerk insisted that no one had come in for several days but Lauren knew better. She could practically smell them, their presence lingering in the room. The telltale scent of fear was thick here, she could smell it like a dog hunting its prey. She would have wagged her tail had she had one. Instead she wrinkled her nose as she sat on the bed, laying down on the sheets she inhaled deeply. She could smell sweat and tears, the pervading odor of sex that hung thick in the room. The sheets hadn't even been changed yet, they couldn't be far away.
Sitting up on the bed, she rummaged through the side table until she found a map of France. Tracing her finger across the axis, she located her position on the map. Narrowing her eyes, she scanned the surrounding towns, searching for one that would serve their purpose, and hers.
Her eyes landed on the town of Calais, within ferry distance of England, her home country. She had several contacts there that would serve her purpose and she knew for a fact that there was a CIA office stationed there. A cruel smile twisted her face and she picked up the phone.
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They strode into the hotel together, a young couple in love, barely able to keep their hands off one another. He was dressed in black Armani, sunglasses tinted against the sun, hair dyed black and spiked up. She was wearing a loose fitting peasant dress, purchased at a local tourist shop, her hair was dyed the same black as his and fell in waves around her face. It wasn't the best disguise they had ever conjured up, but it was good enough.
He had one arm looped around her waist casually but he was clearly protective of the woman under his arm. When he turned to speak to her, he lowered his head so close to her's that they seemed to breathe the same air. It was as if they vanished into a world of their own creation in those moments. When he touched his lips to her ear to whisper something confidential, it was as if the two of them spoke a language of secrets and silence with every word. The tourists who passed by them, only took note of them as beautiful individuals, worthy of a second glance but never a second thought.
He approached the desk, a bookbag slung over his shoulder, she seemed to vanish in the crook of his arm as if she didn't want to be seen by anyone. His expression was cheerful, his words lightly spoken but they froze the desk clerk motionless.
"We'd like a room in the west wing, please. Facing the ocean." Vaughn's words were chosen carefully and he tried to stress the key ones individually. It had been a long time since he had been in the field and even longer since he had been to Calais. His words seemed to prove effective however, as the man at the desk shifted slightly and nodded, without looking up at him. He handed him a key and nodded to the doors beside them.
"Take the elevator to the top floor," his words were spoken in a careful monotone. "Wait ten seconds and push the red button, it will take you where you need to go."
Vaughn nodded at the man curtly and smiled again, "Thank you," he said brightly, in French. "You're most kind."
Sydney and Vaughn turned and strode quickly away, arms wrapped around each other, a cozy couple headed to their room. No one took any notice.
The man at the desk watched them move away with growing trepidation. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he mopped the sweat off his forehead uneasily. One hand stretched out for the phone and hesitated, his hand hovering about the reciever. Swallowing hard, he looked back to the elevator as it closed behind Sydney and Vaughn. Picking up the reciever, he dialed the number quickly before he could hesitate again.
"They're here." He whispered confidentially in French to the person on the end other end.
"Good. Don't let them leave."
The phone was hung up with an impromptu click, the tone buzzing in his ear.
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The elevator doors slid open on the fourth floor, Sydney and Vaughn stepped out into a long white hallway. Door lined each side and Vaughn checked the number on the key, 47. His hand on Sydney's back guided her as he ushered her into a quiet room at the end of the hall.
Sydney collapsed into a chair in the corner of the room as Vaughn closed the door quietly behind them. He dropped the bag on the bed and crossed to the window on the other side of the room. He closed the drapes, blanketing the room with darkness, and turned back to Sydney.
"You okay?" She nodded wordlessly at his question and ran her fingers through her hair, distractedly. The ebony strands slipped through her fingers like dark sand in an hourglass. She looked up at him with dark eyes and he remembered her pain of the night before. He knelt before her, taking her hand. She smiled at his touch, but her eyes flitted uneasily around the room. Her emotions, repressed for so long were fluctuating wildly now that she no longer had to hold them back. Every time he looked at her, touched her, she was filled with a wild joy, but the fear was ever present in her mind.
"Its just nervewracking, I can't help but feel like, at any moment the Covenant will storm in and take me away again."
Vaughn laced his fingers through hers, "No one is going to take you anywhere, Syd. Not while I'm here."
She smiled weakly at him and in the dim light, he could see her eyes flicker to the phone on the table beside them. He squeezed her hands reassuringly and leaned forward, kissing her lightly on the cheek.
"It's gonna be okay," he told her. Rasing her hands to his lips, he kissed the palms of her hands and smiled. "I'm going to call your dad now, okay?"
Sydney nodded in assent and as he moved away from her, she brought her knees up to her chest, hugging herself tightly. She suddenly seemed a small child, her lower lip jutting out slightly and her eyes lowered. He stroked her hair tenderly, constantly maintaining his physical connection to her, and picked up the phone.
She listened in silence as he punched in the numbers, speaking rapidly in French to the operator on the other end. His voice was soothing to her frayed nerves and she rocked herself gently on the chair, attempting to will away the knot of anxiety that clenched her stomach. Vaughn stood quietly, the phone to his ear, counting the number of rings from the other end. After what seemed like an eternity, the phone clicked and Jack's voice filtered through from the other end.
"This is Bristow."
Vaughn sighed in relief and glanced at Sydney who was looking up at him with wide eyes. "Jack, it's me."
There was silence on the other end for a brief moment, when he spoke again, his voice was low and curious. Jack could hear something in Vaughn's voice that made him uneasy.
"Vaughn, how may I help you?"
"I was just calling to let you know that the blackbird is flying freely again."
There was a deathly silence. On the other side of the world, Jack Bristow felt his world come shattering down. A tear of joy slipped down his face and he sat down heavily, unaware of anything but the words he had just heard.
"Are you sure?" Jack's voice was thick with emotion and Vaughn was relieved that he still remembered their code.
"Yes, sir. The winter was not as harsh as we had thought. It took awhile to mend the broken wing but the bird is soaring high even as we speak."
"Good to know. Thank you for informing me, Michael. I will stop by myself to check on it."
Vaughn nodded and his eyes flickered to Sydney's confused expression. "I'll be waiting for you." The line went dead before he could even finish his sentence and he dropped the phone onto the cradle with a sigh of relief. Turning back to Sydney, he dropped into the chair opposite her and smiled.
"Jack is on his way."
"What was that code?" Sydney frowned and stood, her arms folded protectively over her chest. Vaughn shook his head.
"After your death," he flinched at the word and looked up to meet her gaze. "Your father and I investigated who might have been behind it. That code was something we came up with to let the other know if we ever found you alive."
A bemused smile crossed Sydney's face, "You worked with my father?"
Vaughn nodded and chuckled softly at her expression, "Yeah, Jack and I have always had at least one thing in common. Our love for you," his eyes darkened as he spoke and Sydney could tell that she had hit a nerve.
"After you died, we had another thing in common, our grief. Three months ago your father came to see me, he was a mess, but then so was I." Vaughn stood abruptly and moved away from her, lost in the haze of memory. "He had been searching for answers but had hit nothing but dead ends, he had finally given into his grief. I told him that I would help him with his search but we never found anything. We were two men, stricken with grief, stumbling blindly in the dark searching for answers." Vaughn's head dropped and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "We never found any. We had no hope. We were both drinking our way through the pain. We had become empty shells without you to fill the hollow space." Vaughn collapsed heavily onto the bed in the center of the room and looked up at Sydney. She stood, a silent witness to his pain, tears staining her face.
She crossed the room to sit beside him, taking his hand, the physical link between them reinforcing the fact that she lived and that she was with him again.
"I'm so sorry." The whisper dropped from her lips softly. A wave of guilt washed over Vaughn. He turned to her and pulled her into his arms.
"Don't ever apologize, Sydney. None of this is your fault, we loved you too much to know how to live without you. It's not your fault that you're so damn loveable." He grinned and felt her laugh quietly against him. He could feel her heart beating in unison with his and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. Sydney sniffled, wiping her tears against his shirt. Their emotions were running away with them again but he let the tears come. Soon enough, they would be forced to slip back into the roles of agents. They would be forced to put emotion aside and work to bring the Covenant down. They deserved all the time in the world to heal properly.
"Vaughn," Sydney pulled away slightly, a frown creasing her forehead. "The night I was abducted is still blurry to me, but I remember fighting with Francie. I remember finding Will in the bathtub," her eyes were filled with fear again as she voiced the question she did not know if she wanted to hear the answer to.
"Will is dead isn't he? My friends are all dead because of me."
Vaughn shook his head, relieved that he could give her a small bit of good news. "Sydney, Will survived."
Her eyes widened and she smiled through her tears, "Really?"
He stroked her face gently and smiled back, "Yeah, when we arrived, we found him slumped over, bleeding to death in the street in front of your burning apartment. He had no memory of how he had gotten there but he survived. He's even received a bit of a promotion in the CIA, not a field agent yet, mind you, but he's on his way there if he just did some training. But I think he's happy as an analyst right now, he misses you." Vaughn's smile faded and he lowered his eyes guiltily. "I haven't seen him in awhile, he was still in the hospital the day of your funeral. But he's doing okay, he's alive and he'll be overjoyed to see you again."
Sydney laughed through her tears, "Oh thank god." She leaned her head against Vaughn's, the next words spilling from her lips without her meaning to.
"And Francieā¦"
Vaughn swallowed hard and stroked her back soothingly, "Her remains were found but we know that they belonged to Allison Doren. We've never found the real Francie, she is assumed dead. I'm so sorry, Syd."
Sydney shook her head, "I figured as much the moment I realized who she really was. Francie, Will, You, my father. I have destroyed so many people's lives."
Vaughn shook his head. "Stop it," he commanded, his tone was a mixture of a loving scold and a stern demand, he couldn't bear the pain she was unecessarily inflicting upon herself. Her eyes widened at his tone and she gazed at him for a long moment. He held her gaze, unbending, making it clear to her that he would not stand for this. She remembered his words of long ago, it seemed like a lifetime now. "No one is harder on themselves than you are."
She nodded, giving up her guilty conscience. She knew it would only cause her more pain in the long run. Looking away, she licked her dry lips and rubbed the back of her neck wearily. Seeing the motion, Vaughn's hand raised automatically to rest on her neck, rubbing the tense muscles gently.
"When will my dad get here?" She asked him, a note of hope in her voice.
"He knows that I'm in France, he most likely traced the call I made from the phone. We arranged several meeting places in various countries with contacts, he'll know that from here we'll move onto England where he can meet us safely. I implied that as best I could with my message."
"Hmm, when does the next ferry leave?"
Vaughn checked his watch, it was two in the afternoon. "At six, I believe."
Sydney smiled at his words, "Good. That gives us a few more hours alone together."
Vaughn grinned mischeviously at her suggestive tone, "Why, Agent Bristow, are you trying to seduce me?" He feigned shock and clasped his hands over his heart. "All my conceptions of you being such a good girl have been completely killed." He hung his head as if mourning lost fantasies. Sydney laughed and pushed him back against the bed.
"I'll give you some conceptions to think about," she murmured hungrily against his lips before capturing them with her own. He pulled her closer to him and they melted into one another, a tangle of limbs in the twilight.
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Outside of the town of Calais, a sleek black car sped along the roads. Lauren Reed sat behind the wheel, on the seat beside her the file lay open to the photos of Agents Vaughn and Bristow. She found her eyes continually straying to his face, dirty thoughts entering her mind. He was quite an attractive man and she hadn't had a decent adversary in years. Perhaps after she killed Sydney, she would keep him for herself. It would be fun to break him, to see his anguish as he watched her slowly torture the woman he loved before she killed her before his helpless eyes. It would be a pleasure to break his mind, twist him to her advantage.
Indeed, this hit could be the best thing that happened to her. She would increase her standing in the Covenant and gain some eye candy to boot.
She pressed down harder on the gas, the car racing across the open roads. A perverse smile twisted her features and she laughed in the rush of the wind. He would be hers. She would make certain of that.
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