Chapter 3: Information At Last

A/n: Thanks for the reviews! Um, not much to say. Sorry if my chapters take a little longer to get posted, I've just started school up again this week. High school's not much different from middle school... There's just people form other grades in my classes now. With that said... Tally ho!

Disclaimer: Oh JJ, can I have Alias please?

* * * * * * *

His mother had visited him that night. He was resting motionless on the couch when the knocking at the door came. It only felt like a few days since he last spoke to her, but of course, it had really been two years, and she was in a fit of hysterics. There was also a great deal of hugging, thanking God, and French ramblings. Vaughn's head had been rather lost through her visitation, and he wasn't sure what how long she had been with him or what she even said.

But she did leave, and after an undefinable amount of time a car was picking him up to take him to work. He would finally get the information he was looking for, and perhaps, if he was lucky, a little more. Perhaps, about Sydney's mystery man...

He sighed to himself while he sat in a familiar meeting room with agents old and new buzzing around him. Occasionally one would sit down at a table near him and shuffle through folders. Some agents, such as Dixon, Marshall, Weiss, etc., would give him a smile and a comforting glance. Other agents that Vaughn did not recognize would either completely ignore Vaughn's existence or give him a strange look. Finally Director Kendall entered the room and a silence was issued.

It was suddenly brought to Vaughn's attention that Sydney wasn't present. He couldn't think of any reason why she wouldn't be. And then he remembered her words to him back in Hong Kong...

... They asked me to come back to... to explain...

Too bad she had barely explained anything to him at all. But come back from what? Had she left the CIA after Vaughn's disappearance? He prayed that she hadn't. Could something have happened to her while he was gone? He wouldn't think about it. He needed to see her face again today... Even if she was with someone else, he needed her. Though every time she crossed his mind a sharp twinge pained him, he was used to the pain right now. All Vaughn needed for his pain to cease was her, oddly enough. Just the sight of her, he knew, would fix everything. But no. She wasn't there. Might never be there...

Almost two years ago, Kendall began, breaking Vaughn's sad outburst of thoughts, Agent Michael C. Vaughn was involved in a car accident and disappeared. Approximately seventy-two hours ago, Agent Vaughn was found in Hong Kong.

Questions were quickly chattering away.

How can that be?

Wasn't he dead?

Finally Kendall interrupted them all once again. Yes, we did declare him dead during his absence. However, we were incorrect. Vaughn had to keep from smirking. He knew Kendall hated to be wrong, and admitting that the CIA was incorrect was close enough to him. Kendall turned to Vaughn. It has come to my attention that you have no memory of the last two years.

None, whatsoever, he replied firmly.

Kendall nodded. Then I believe our first priority is to figure out what happened to you during your lost years. We'll start with hypnotic regression. Agent Dixon, if you would take him there now?

Yes, sir.

Vaughn frowned. He wanted information, not memories. Memories wouldn't tell him about Sydney. Yes, maybe they would tell him about where he had been taken. Yes, maybe they would tell him about who had taken him. But would they tell him anything and everything about Sydney? No. And that was what he wanted.

Or was it? He was quite confused again, he quickly realized while he was walking down the humble halls of the CIA with Dixon. Vaughn really did want to know where he was and who had taken him. But did he want to know about Sydney more? He asked Dixon about the information first, not sure whether he should pry about Sydney.

Just wait a little longer, he said with a sympathetic glint in his eye. Yes, that had been what everyone was telling him. When would it finally come?

They soon found themselves in Dr. Virginia Kerr's office; the very same one that he watched Sydney and Will recall hidden memories. Not much had changed about Dr. Kerr over the two years Vaughn was missing. She still looked the same as she always did, and still had the same soothing voice.

Vaughn was promptly hooked up to electrodes and machines and sitting in a stiff leather chair. Dr. Kerr finally spoke to him. Now, don't worry, Michael, this is very safe. The key is just to relax and stay concentrated. Are you ready? He nodded, closing his eyes. Okay, I'm going to count backwards from three. When I get to one, I want you to tell me where you are. Three... Two... One...

Vaughn slowly opened his eyes to find himself in another strange setting. For a moment he thought he may have passed out again, but soon remembered his hypnotic regression. He had no idea where on earth he possibly be, but his body was throbbing in pain. It was almost as bad as his last headache. Vaughn tried to sit up, but found he was strapped to a hospital-like bed. The thick leather straps were bound tightly round his wrists, legs, and torso, cutting into his skin at times. Among his other injuries were cuts and bruises scattered about his usually smooth skin. Wanting to scratch his nose, he tried to rub it to his shoulder, only to find that he couldn't, furrowing his brow in frustration. The furrowing led to the discovery of a a gauze bandage wrapped around his head, which was beginning to hurt. I'm not sure where I am... But it hurts...

You're okay, Michael, it's just a memory. Just a memory, he told himself, nothing is hurting me, nothing can hurt me. The pain was subsiding, excluding his headache, which must have been forming in reality as well as his state of mind.

Ah, I see your awake, Agent Vaughn, came a detectable voice. Yet it wasn't in reality that he heard this voice, but in the memory. And it belonged to the crooked traitor, Arvin Sloane. Vaughn quickly saw him appear out of a doorway to his right.

Where am I? memory-Vaughn asked groggily.

Sloane smiled slyly, taking a small step closer to Vaughn's bed. I've taken you to a location in the south of Spain –

Well, I demand you take me back to L.A. Memory-Vaughn was becoming stronger, real Vaughn could tell. His fists were now clenched, letting the leather strap tighten on his already slitting wrists.

Sloane simply laughed in response. Well, we were going to return you due to our mistake... However we've decided you'll be very useful. Vaughn heard the click of a doorknob and Irina Derevko followed in entering the room.

But for now, Irina said, pulling out a long needle from behind her back, you should go back to sleep. Her cold brown eyes twinkled with delight as she injected the needle into Vaughn's arm, taking great pleasure in watching Vaughn suffer.

Vaughn closed his eyes tightly and swallowed the pain, only to open his eyes and find himself back in the present. He was breathing heavily, but his body seemed to be in no more pain, other than his headache. He ignored the headache, looking directly at Dr. Kerr. Mistake? What mistake did they make?

Dr. Kerr and Dixon exchanged glances, but Dr. Kerr said, Everything will be explained to you in a moment. She began to remove the electrodes form Vaughn's head. More waiting for Vaughn. He wished he could go back and make Sydney tell him everything back in Hong Kong. Better yet, he wished he had never had to be in Hong Kong in the first place. There were so many things that he wished, yet none of them were attainable. Except for one... If he was willing to try hard enough and pursue. He knew deep down in his heart and soul that he was. He wanted Sydney, and that was what he would get.

Dixon led him to a small office with only a table and two chairs. Vaughn sat down across from Dixon and crossed his arms stubbornly. Are you finally going to explain everything now?

Yes. Let's start with the night you disappeared.

Vaughn's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't actually believed they would tell him everything now. His brain immediately filled with billions of questions all at once; each swimming about his brain in a confused jumble. Yet his mouth remained speechless. He finally concentrated hard and let the words flow out of his mouth. Eric Weiss already told me about Francie and Will. And Sydney being hurt.

I see. He paused for a moment, looking briefly at his hands, as if he wasn't now sure where to begin. Apparently you were purposely hit by one of Sloane's associates –

But it was a mistake?

Yes. They... They wanted Sydney.

Sydney! But how do you know? More questions arose, slowly bringing on more headache.

Please, just let me explain, he said, followed by a sigh. Sydney was willing to do just about anything to find you. She actually tried to leave the hospital before they wanted to released her, but she collapsed before she could get away. She almost – well, never mind what she almost did. He scratched his head. A little while after she got back home, she was gung-ho on missions to find you. We finally got intel of your possible whereabouts and we went. But Syd went her own way, and she found this man who said he had info on you... No one's clear on what happened to her, or how it happened, but she was somehow tortured for information. No one really knows how she got out alive.

But no one knows exactly what happened?

She refuses to talk about it.

The two men let a short silence issue itself, only interrupted by their own breathing. Vaughn's questions were growing by the minute, and very few answers were coming to him. What had happened to Sydney? He thought for a moment about her recent behavior. Was she angry with him because she was tortured; did she feel it was his fault? He couldn't understand how she would feel that way, but there was still no logical explanation for anything. Did you finally give up the search for me?

We stopped hearing news of your existence. The CIA just assumed you were dead, he shrugged.

But why did Sloane keep me? You just said that he wanted Sydney... And how do you know he wanted Sydney anyway?

Irina Derevko contacted Director Jack Bristow. She told him that they meant to take her. Dixon knew Vaughn would contradict this statement.

And that's reason enough, Vaughn, sure enough, scoffed.

Dixon nodded. We still have little idea of what they used you for. Vaughn sighed, leaning back in his chair. He rubbed his hand down his face and let the new information run over in his mind. Still nothing was making sense, and he only had more questions to ask. But what about Sydney? he wondered. How can we trust Irina Derevko? Why did Sloane put me back alive? His mind would not focus on on track. It continued to jump from question to question repeatedly until he heard Dixon's deep voice clouding over his thinking. I'm sorry we've sold your apartment and most of your furniture. You're remaining possessions are in storage and...

And where, Dixon?

And... at Sydney's. An awkward pause slipped between them. It shouldn't have been awkward, yet it was in many ways. Why was it odd that Sydney had some of his stuff? Vaughn didn't care. He was glad that she had it. Now he had an excuse to go see her... She also has Donovan, he added softly. He cleared his throat before speaking again. Uh, you get to stay at the safehouse until you find a place of your own, get your furniture, you know, back on your feet. We'll issue you a car and see if we might be able to get yours back.

He nodded, rubbing his temples. Oh, what were the tests they ran on me at the hospital in Hong Kong?

I'm not sure what they did exactly, but they showed that you have slight brain damage. But very, very, slight. It's just the memory loss. They think you may have been brainwashed.

Brainwashed. Great. Could his life get anymore like a soap opera? Thanks, Dixon. Wait, uh, before you go... Could you tell me what's up with Sydney? She said she came back from something to talk to me. Did she leave the CIA? He hoped very badly that she just wasn't at work today.

I really shouldn't be the one telling you about her, but no, she hasn't left the CIA. She's just taken an extended... leave. She needed a break, you know, after all these years. Dixon paused for a moment, making sure he had just spoken the right choice of words. He then informed Vaughn that he should find Jack Bristow for his car keys before he left. Just as Vaughn was heading for the door, Dixon added, And Agent Vaughn, it's good to have you back.

Vaughn nodded his head in acknowledgment and headed forth through the halls of the Joint Task center in search of Director Jack Bristow. He knew it would take him too long to find him if he was looking directly for him, so he decided to wander around and see what had changed. The main idea of his excursion, or what he wanted to believe, was to clear his head of all the questions he had and to just relax and ease into his new life. This won't work, he thought, but it sure was worth a try.

Absent-mindedly, he had strolled himself into the prison ward: the hall where Irina Derevko used to be confined. He slowly walked past each cell until he reached the last one; which he assumed would be empty with Irina Derevko still absent. Or could they have caught her again? He was quite shocked to find that someone else was occupying it, however, not Irina Derevko. It was Mr. Sark...

Vaughn found him sleeping. He chuckled quietly to himself, shaking his head, knowing that Sark fully got what he deserved. Not wanting Sark to wake and find Vaughn standing at his cell – he'd rather not confront Sark yet – he turned and walked out after the barred gates. He turned his head back for one last glance, and felt his body smack into another's. It was Jack Bristow's.

Oh! I'm sorry, sir. Actually, I was just looking for you, Vaughn said, hoping his former girlfriend's father wasn't angry with him.

Yes. You want your car keys, I suppose. Follow me.

Vaughn sighed to himself and did what Jack told him. They meandered through a few halls before stopping in Jack's office. He opened a drawer from his desk and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them to Vaughn. He realized that Jack was giving him a sympathetic stare. Jack Bristow, the man with no emotion, giving him sympathy? Though Vaughn couldn't be sure if it was sympathy he was showing, considering it was strange to be seeing any expression from this man at all. He also noticed that Jack had turned down a picture frame on his desk. It must be of Sydney, Vaughn thought, because that only makes sense. He's giving me a sympathy look, and not wanting me to see Sydney. Okay. That makes sense, I guess, but why? The question he had been asking since he was found in Hong Kong.

But Vaughn couldn't resist pumping Jack for more information if he could. Does, uh, does Sydney still live in that apartment with Will? Jack nodded faintly. Vaughn wondered if it was Will she was involved with... But no. He highly doubted that was the case. He knew she didn't feel that way about Will. But who was the mystery man she was dating then? Before I leave, I just want to know one more thing. What is Sydney's boyfriend's name?

Jack looked hesitant before saying, Corey Peterson.

* * * * * * *

So much has happened, and I've been gone so long. I don't know who anybody is anymore. All I can do is sit here in this safehouse – alone, no less – and wait for any new information that they probably won't tell me. I don't know much, and most of what I know is from extensive research on the internet, radio, and television. But here it is:

My name is Michael Christopher Vaughn. The year is 2005. It is March. The Kings look like they have a chance at the Stanley Cup this year. The President of the United States is not George Bush. Yet somehow Arnold Schwarzenegger is the Governor of California. They lied once again, and Friends is still on the air. Some woman named Claire Darby just won American Idol 4. The new band is called Black tea. Francie Calfo is dead. Will Tippin is alive. I don't have a place to live. I don't have my car. I may not even have any money. But I most certainly do not have one thing – Sydney Bristow, the love of my life.



A/n: REVIEW, PLEASE! Sorry if some of the stuff that happened to Vaughn is confusing. I'm writing it and I think it is... But please review! Constructive criticism is always welcome too.

And just for clearing things up: I just think it would be funny of Arnold Schwarzenegger won, Friends is probably really in it's last season this year, I have *no* idea who will win American Idol 4, and Black tea is a real band.
~Whitelighter Enchantress