Chapter 7: Mutual Triumph
A/n: Thanks for reviewing! Your feedback means so much. And now, back to Vaughn... Be warned: I think this chapter is a little boring, personally. The next one is going to be a lot better, I promise you.
Disclaimer: Belongs to JJ, not to me.
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Sleep.
It was not just the people he missed, or the places, or events either.
Sleep.
Nor was it the things he lost.
Sleep.
That was what he missed the most. S-L-E-E-P. A perfect, dreamless, slumber. Was that too much to ask? Apparently. He couldn't remember the last real sleep he had, one without the dreams, or... blacking out. The dream haunted him somewhat in the daytime, also. Again, he lay trussed in the hospital bed, struggling to break free. Sloane and Irina were talking in a corner; they were talking about him again. They were saying – he strained to hear – where they would go after they rid of him. But alas, he would always wake or snap back to reality before anything was revealed. This dream taunted him and drove him insane until he finally revealed them to Dr. Kerr, who was immensely interested.
Have you ever considered, she pondered, that this is not just a dream, but a memory? It was an interesting thought. Why hadn't it occurred to him before? He didn't worry about it for too long; he knew his recent thoughts had been about Sydney and Alyssa. How did you say it ended again?
Sloane and Derevko are about to reveal their destination when I usually get woken up by my alarm clock or something.
She licked her lips for a moment in thought. And this dream happens every night you said? He nodded. Okay. Tonight, I want you to turn off your alarm. Try to sleep as long as you can to get the rest of that memory. Hopefully you retrieve that location. They may still be there.
But what if it doesn't work? he asked.
Then we'll keep trying.
He nodded, though remained skeptical. He seriously doubted that this would work, and all he would receive was a bad scolding from Kendall in the morning on the importance of punctuality.
Despite his skeptics, he turned off his alarm clock as Dr. Kerr wished and settled in his bed for a long night. Sleep couldn't find him, though. He let the late night shows mutely flash across the TV screen in the corner of his bedroom while his eyes fell into a restless daze. Leave it to the night he needed to sleep to become an insomniac...
Eventually he drifted off, lost in nothing.
He pretended to sleep. Sloane and Irina talked in the corner, and he couldn't risk not hearing what they had to say. If they could just speak up a little louder! He tilted his head, aiming his ear better in their direction.
Arvin, it's been too long. If we're not careful he'll remember everything! Irina whispered sharply, a brown strand of hair falling over her ears.
Don't worry, everything will continue on as planned. Vaughn quickly shut his eyes tightly, yet knew Sloane would be smiling smugly at this moment. We only need... a little bit longer to perfect it–
But that's just it! Irina said loudly. Realizing her sudden uprising, she glanced back at Vaughn to make sure he was still sleeping. If this process doesn't speed up...
It will.
If he remembers...
He won't, it will be too powerful. And then we'll escape. Everything will work out in the end. Why don't you trust this, Irina? Is it me that you don't trust.
Of course not. It's the CI, I don't trust.
They were moving towards the door at Vaughn's right. He closed his eyes comfortably; steadied his breathing; did whatever it took to look like he was sleeping. What about Sydney? Sloane inquired, stopping Irina in her tracks.
What about Sydney?
She's CIA... Yet I thought you trusted her.
Irina remained silent, scaring Vaughn with a mention of Sydney.
Sydney.
The one and only thought that made him think he'd survive. The only reason he didn't let himself die. The only reason of his existence...
Why did Sloane bring up Sydney? He had to be careful not to let his breathing change. But, Sydney? What was Irina going to say?
Irina finally said. I don't want you to bring Sydney into this now.
All right, Sloane agreed, Later then?
she answered mindlessly. Now, tell me more about Lima.
Lima! So they were headed for Peru. Try to stay calm, he reminded himself.
Ah, yes. It was one of Emily's favorite places to visit. The house had these beautiful ivory pillars with carvings from top to bottom, and of course the garden Emily loved. She could have spent all day there if she pleased. We... Sloane's voice eased away as he and Irina passed through the door and away from Vaughn.
Suddenly a bright light stung his eyes as he awoke to find himself surrounded in thick beams of sunlight. Groggily, he pulled the covers over his head. No, it can't be time to wake up yet! Soon the strength came to take the covers off, and he realized that the sun never shone so brightly through the window when he woke up. He checked the alarm clock. Nine-thirty A.M.?
Lima! Now he had to get out of bed, get showered, dressed, and go to work. He was the only person in the CIA to know where Sloane was! This piece of information excited him, and had it not been so vital he would have wished to keep it to himself.
But why was this dream he had the perfect one? The repeated dream he had was the same every night, only now elongated, but all in all similar. What would have triggered it? Sydney. Who else? Had there been one reason to remember anything that happened, Sydney was the reason.
He slid his body out of the warm, soft covers and hurried to the shower (*pause for visual effect... ooh yeah*), then shaved and dressed in a normal black suit and tie. As he put the key in his car's ignition, he checked the clock. Ten o'clock. Kendall would be angry if he was ever this late with no reason. Most likely fired. Good thing he held one of the most important tidbits of information one could know.
Sloane's location.
Before he knew it he ran up the halls of the Joint Task Force Center, receiving odd stares from passersby. His shoes squeaked with an urgency that matched his own. He was a time bomb waiting to explode if he wasn't disarmed.
He finally found Kendall discussing something with Agent Jack Bristow near his office. Plane... Lima... Sloane... Now! he exclaimed, out of breath.
Why are you so late, Agent Vaughn? Kendall replied, ignoring Vaughn's initial gibberish.
Vaughn allowed his breathy to level before proceeding to explain Dr. Kerr's procedure and the dream. He allowed every detail to slip from his mouth, except for the mention of Sydney. He couldn't do that in front of Jack. Finally, Kendall nodded. We'll assemble a team immediately, locate the house, keep it under surveillance. I'll go get Flinkman... and off he briskly walked.
I'll go call Sydney... I'm quite certain she'd wish to join us on this mission.
Vaughn soon found himself alone amongst a busy, bustling office. Apparently, word spread faster than a wildfire. Agents hurried along, ignoring whatever work they had before, only to pick up something new associated with Sloane. It was the opportunity everyone had been waiting for. Finally...
Agent Vaughn! someone called. He turned around, to find Jack Bristow beckoning him into the usual meeting room. Once inside, Vaughn found many field agents collected together. This is the assembled team. Well, most of them. Sydney's on her way, and there are a few others.
What about Alyssa? Who's staying with her?
Will, most likely. Or... he cast Vaughn a quick glance, full of uncertainty.
Vaughn kept his scowl to himself. He was all right with Will taking care of his daughter. Actually, Will would be a great baby sitter. But Corey... Corey was a man that drank too much. He hoped desperately Will would be caring for Alyssa. Not Corey. Please, not Corey...
Director Kendall? Uh, sir? Marshall's voice interrupted his thoughts. We have the house under surveillance.
Marshall led Kendall back to his computer to observe, and naturally, Vaughn and Jack followed with interest.
We've confirmed that Mr. Sloane is indeed on location, and Irina Derevko was. However, she's... Not. Anymore, anyway.
How do you know she was there in the first place? Jack asked, his eyebrow raised.
Just look at those draperies. They scream Irina Derevko. You know, they have that I'm sophisticated but I could kill you' vibe. Jack stared back at Marshall with the same Yeah, anyway... You should, uh, start flying to Lima.
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Sydney was on the other side of the plane. Ignoring him completely. It was driving Vaughn mad. How he wished they could talk, freely, about anything in the world like they used to. How he wished they could simply hold each other, kiss each other. Anything, really. Something they could do together...
He didn't have the courage to walk up to her. If he could strike up any old conversation, he would have. But the stakes were too high for him to take the initiative. He rubbed his face, then massaged his temples. He had only been awake a few hours, yet the day had already begun to be stressful.
He paused for a moment to think about his situation. One step at a time, he reminded himself. Number one: a dream. The dream that exposed Sloane's (and possibly) Irina's whereabouts. Number two: a plane ride. It wasn't life or death, it was only a plane ride. Yet it wouldn't seem nearly as dreadful if Sydney would talk to him. Number three: a mission. His first mission since his return. Not to mention his first time working with Sydney. Number four: they might finally be able to catch Sloane! The, perhaps, biggest capture in the history of the CIA.
Vaughn looked back to where Sydney was sitting. Her legs were comfortably curled under a blanket, and her hair was pulled up into a messy bun. She wore a black, fitted shirt that emphasized the curves of her body, sending Vaughn's heart a flutter.
Finally he forced himself to look away, out the window, where he saw below him the cities of Mexico. He fell into a trance where he slipped into memories of past missions, all of which involved Sydney.
Soon, he felt a tapping on his shoulder. Vaughn turned to find Jack Bristow standing at his side. Through a glance, he noticed Sydney was not sitting across the aisle from him anymore. Would you come with me, Agent Vaughn? Jack asked calmly. Vaughn nodded and stood up, hoping he wasn't in any sort of trouble.
Vaughn watched his feet as Jack led him to the front of the plane, where the feet of Vaughn's and Jack's met up with another pair of feet, clad in black boots. He looked up to find his vision graced with Sydney's presence. He looked nervously at Jack, a look of sheer confusion on his face. What the hell was Jack doing?
I want you two to talk with one another. It's obvious that there's tension, and neither of you are getting off this plane until something is resolved. Vaughn now understood; he was taking the initiative. Good Jack.
While Jack thought his plan would work, it obviously failed by the looming silence. Both Sydney and Vaughn looked to the ground, coughed, scratched their heads, but said nothing to one another.
Jack rolled his eyes. Look. You are two of the best agents the Agency has ever seen, and when you're a team you're even better. If you don't break the ice, then you're putting our country at stake. Still, Sydney and Vaughn said nothing. Vaughn grew nervous. Jack was giving him the perfect chance... Why couldn't he take it? He wanted nothing more than to talk with her for the rest of their flight like they used to. Yet he had nothing to say to her. No, he told himself, I have nothing I can say to her. She's the one who should say something to me. Sydney, why don't you tell Agent Vaughn about Alyssa, Jack continued. I'm sure he'd be interested. Vaughn nodded eagerly. Jack gave a kurt nod, turned, and headed back into the depth of the plane.
So... What would you like to know about... our daughter? she asked slowly with caution.
Anything and everything, he replied, the honest truth.
Sydney raised her eyebrows and sat down by the window. she began, giving Vaughn enough time to sit down next to her, she's staying with Will right now. I usually leave her with him if I had to go somewhere.
I thought you took an extended leave?
I did. Sometimes I just had to get away. I – never mind. Um, she loves to eat Cheerios. She'd probably eat them all day if I let her. I have to take a bag of them everywhere we go; that, and her stuffed lion.
The lion that she gave me?
Sydney blushed slightly. Yes. We bought it at the zoo. Her favorite place to go is the zoo. It was one of her first words. She likes to watch the giraffes there.
That giraffe in Santa Barbara... with the crooked neck. Has she seen it? Vaughn asked, a nervous smile escaping his face. Santa Barbara...
No. Actually, I haven't been to Santa Barbara. I didn't go after... you disappeared...
Silent relief.
I hate to interrupt, Jack Bristow's voice sliced, but I need to speak with Sydney privately.
Vaughn nodded and allowed Sydney to go with her father. He moved to the next seat by the window while the last minutes played over in his head. He and Sydney talked. Talked! Like normal people do. Not only were they talking, but they were in close proximity. His body settled merely a foot away from hers; lured by her sheer mysteriousness and captivated by it as well. Why, oh why was it impossible for them to kiss?
When he could ponder this question no more, he headed back throughout the plane and took to seat next to a fretting Marshall. Vaughn learned that prior to leaving Los Angeles, Carrie told Marshall that she would like to have kids. His techie-friend's nervous ramblings were only so much he could take.
He took this opportunity to think about what Sydney had said about Santa Barbara while Marshall rambled. So she hadn't taken a trip there after all. Maybe the great and powerful Corey didn't stand up to all Vaughn was worth.
After that thought, Vaughn knew he was ready to finally face Sloane and take him down like he deserved. A new found strength empowered him to take control of the situation, and he could finally focus his anger in one direction. All he cared about was capturing the man that completely ruined his life.
Not a moment to soon, the plane landed, and before he knew it a large team was assembled around the house, hidden amongst trees and other structures. Vaughn waited impatiently against a large stone fence by the East entrance while Marshall hacked into the Sloane's home surveillance.
We have confirmation, Marshall said, that Sloane is on the premises. Status on Derevko, unconfirmed.
Once the wires were cut and the coast was clear, several agents dashed from their hiding places to shoot the outside guards. When the guards fell to the pavement, it was the teams' cue to move in. One portion of the agents remained outside the house if, by some miracle, that Sloane should escape.
As soon as Vaughn entered the house, something felt wrong. There existed an eery silence filling it's halls and filtering down the stairwells. He kept his gun pointed out in front of him as he moved swiftly from door to door. After much extensive searching, it was clear that Sloane was no where to be found on the main, second, or third floors. Several members of the teams each met.
Could he have escaped somehow before we got here?
No, absolutely not. Our cameras would have caught that.
Yes, but our our cameras can be fooled.
Not true in this case. There must be a secret room, or passageways in the house that he is taking. Alert the outside team to set up around the city, we don't know where exactly his exit point is.
Vaughn once again scoured the second floor in search of hidden doors leading to secret rooms or hallways. It hadn't even been three minutes of searching when yells from downstairs sounded; they found the hidden door. Vaughn's team headed in, accompanied by Sydney's team, while Dixon's team stayed behind in the house for further inspection.
Vaughn looked up and down the long hallway in front of him, dust misting through its core; only stirred by someone recently walking through it. Sloane had to have come this way, it was the only explanation. The team hurried down hall after hall, finding many hidden rooms or doors to other hallways. Even some doors led to stairs. Finally, the teams reached what seemed to be an intersection point for six main hallways, each branching out from a hexagonal commons.
This could take hours.
Are you kidding? This could take weeks to check it out completely.
I propose we split into six groups, each tackle on main hallway at a time.
There's not enough time. We'll have to...
Vaughn's mind slipped from listening to the growing argument. A headache was setting in. If only he could get all the people around him to quiet down! Didn't anyone else care about this mission as much as he did? They only made his headache grow worse. He gently massaged his temples, pretending it helped. Meanwhile, he glanced at the others around him, hoping they would realize he wanted to listen and quiet down. However, no one around him was talking except for those involved in the argument. Then what was he hearing?
A strange, lightheaded feeling swarmed his body and he lowered to the ground, falling deeper into the blackness that surrounded him...
Walking slower won't change your destiny, Agent Vaughn, Sloane's raspy voice echoed through an elegantly furnished house. He didn't know where he was, and frankly he didn't care. It was the first time he left the hospital bed; the first time free from the restraints; the first time to perhaps escape...
He obeyed Sloane – despite his hatred for him – hoping that obedience would keep him away from the hospital bed for as long as he could. How he wished this would be his chance to escape; too bad his hands were cuffed and his feet chained.
Where was he being led? What was his These thoughts sent fear down his spine, tingling through the tips of his toes. He tried to distract himself from it by inspecting his surroundings, however the thought haunted the back of his mind. He hadn't had a chance to see the house's exterior, nor did he see any windows. He had hoped he would find out where he was, but alas, he had no such luck.
Vaughn tried to use other senses to figure out his surroundings. The air felt light and crisp against his lungs, and the only sound he heard was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway they were in. Soon they entered a room that appeared to be both an office and living room; it had a desk and file cabinets as well as a couch, chair, and roaring fireplace. Roaring? Sloane must have been here before Vaughn got here. Wait... Did he arrive here with Sloane? He couldn't much remember his arrival. Or maybe someone else had been here. Or perhaps that someone else was still here...
Irina Derevko.
He was so sure that she was there; he half expected her to be sitting on the sofa in front of the fireplace. But since she was not there, she could be wherever Sloane was taking him.
Recognize your surroundings? he cackled, suggesting something. Could Vaughn have been here before? He shrugged off the thought. He would have remembered. Wouldn't he?
He almost ran into Sloane, who stopped abruptly to fiddle with a piece of wall. Why is he letting me see this? Vaughn wondered. Doesn't he think I'll remember what he's doing? Sloane noticed Vaughn eying him closely, and simply chuckled to himself. May I remind you, as I have done each time we've been here, that you will not remember any of this.
The statement shocked Vaughn. He'd been here before!? And not just once, but several times. He became confused. He tried desperately to remember why, mainly for the reason of defying Sloane. Soon he was led forward into the panel of wall Sloane had removed, and they found themselves looking down a long, dusty hallway. They passed many oak doors, all shut tightly and probably locked. Sloane finally turned to the right, and unlocked a door that led to a stairway. He led Vaughn down the stairs, and into another set of hallways. Vaughn gazed expectantly in every turn, hoping he would recognize something. But he saw nothing.
They quickly approached a large hexagonal intersection of six main hallways, and he followed Sloane to the one on the farthest left. After that, it was only a few more hallways and a stairway or two when they reached their final destination.
It looked like the room from a mad scientist's laboratory; the walls alone were frightening enough. They were a dark, gray stone, dripping with water droplets. The room was freezing, almost cold enough to see your breath. But by far, the most horrifying object of the room was located in its center; a long, leather padded bed with terrifying leather straps, above which sat the largest machine Vaughn had ever seen. The machine looked evilly silver and icy cold, with many dangerous buttons and screens, cranks and levers, and metal helmet hooked up with cords and electrodes. Electricity zapped between metal posts from the top of the machine, sending a horrid burnt smell through Vaughn's nostrils.
He didn't have to ask what was going to happen to him. He knew he was the next contestant on the Price Is Right, and Sloane was simply waiting for him to come on down.'
With a nervous gulp, Vaughn was led up to the bed in a slow trudge. Shakily, he lay down, his knuckles white from squeezing his hands together for so long. The helmet clasped under his chin with an echoing click, and Vaughn attempted to brace himself for what was coming.
What he had imagined didn't compare with the pain he suddenly felt. Energy seared through his body like lightning in the sky; pain worse than anything he'd felt before; a prolonged agony he thought never would end.; a torture worse than Hell itself. His body was senseless to everything around him. He could no longer feel anything except the excruciating pulsation; there were no colors, no sounds, no leather bed beneath his back, not even the metal he should have tasted in his mouth. No time for questioning anything, no feeling enough to ask it to stop.
But suddenly it did.
Where was he? Why was he here? What the hell was on his head? Was it the reason his head ached to to end? Why was he strapped to a bed? Who did he hear stepping towards him?
He never found out; a dark blindfold wrapped around his head, blocking everything from view. Vaughn lay on the bed in utter confusion, asking himself so many questions without answers. Why was his body throbbing in pain? Didn't he get into a car accident? Or could it be from the strange thing attached to his head?
It gave him a headache to fully ponder his questions, so he tried to let his mind lapse into a ringing lull. He felt his body temperature slowly degrading and the feeling in his limbs returned. A slight pressure of fingertips lifted his shoulders off the bed, and soon his feet set on the floor. He took a few swaggering steps before reaching his equilibrium, but was quickly prodded out of the room. After getting used to walking again, his mind freed up to think about his previous questions. He scratched his forehead frantically. Where could he possibly be, and mostly, who was leading him? He wished with all his might he could remember something before waking up, yet the harder he thought the less details he could recall.
The mysterious person led him through a maze of stairs and hallways, all while Vaughn trudged obediently beside them. After a while, he heard their footsteps echo and decided they must be in a larger room. He thought he heard whispers as well, but worried it may just be in his head. Soon he was forced into a sharp corner to the left, and then down another set of seemingly endless halls. Vaughn began to hear the whispers again, only louder. He caught pieces of a broken sentence, but the words escape route stuck out in particular.
Suddenly he was shoved out of a nearby door and thrown to the cold dirt floor. Just as his trussed hands rose to his pounding head, he was lifted and tossed into what felt like the back of a van. As the wheels beneath him began to turn, he felt an urge to sleep...
His eyes popped open with a small yelp escaping from his mouth. Agents surrounded him and peered at him curiously. Sweat droplets trickled down his face as his heavy breathing slowly evened out.
You okay? a fellow agent asked. You looked like you were having a seizure or something.
was all Vaughn could manage to mumble. His head was still lost in the memory he had witnessed. Oh God, he realized. Here. I was here. I know where we need to go, he said confidently, thinking he would lead them to his torture chamber.
What? How? several agents asked at once.
I just... recalled a memory. Of being here. Just, uh, follow me. He slowly stood up from the floor and looked at the six hallways that surrounded the hexagonal intersection. Closing his eyes to see where Sloane led him, he envisioned a turn to the farthest left, and led the confused agents down that way.
With every step, it appalled him that he recognized the exact doors and staircases. He finally reached the door to the torture chamber, and with twitching fingertips, his hand wrapped around the doorknob and pushed it open. With a deep sigh the room was empty, excepting a long, leather upholstered bed. The room itself was just as cold and dank as he remembered, yet lacked the large electrical machine that caused him the most intense pain of his life. He shuddered at the thought.
Agents around him were severely confused. Why did Agent Vaughn lead them to this nearly empty room? He whispered something to himself and briskly walked through the crowds of people, making his way back towards the hexagon room. He didn't notice that Sydney's hand had brushed his arm, nor did he notice the worry on her face. The agents whispered amongst themselves, but still followed him through the endless maze of halls.
Once Vaughn reached the hexagon, he took another sharp left and continued down the path he recognized despite the fact he never saw it. After a few minutes, he knew he was in the hall where he heard people whispering escape route. He paused outside of a single door, knowing in the back of his mind it was the door Sloane had shoved him out of. He turned to face his coworkers, and soon everyone silenced themselves. This... this is where Sloane shoved me outside, and where I was placed into a van, and eventually dropped in Taiwan. The other room was where they... tortured me, so to speak. Vaughn took a moment to stare boldly at the door before trying to open it. Alas, it was locked. I don't understand. It wasn't locked when –
He was interrupted by a gunshot.
Everyone heaved themselves into a doorway or any other nook they could find as hundreds more bullets came shooting out of behind doors and things further down the large hallway. It was Sloane, Vaughn knew, and he had numbers on them. Shortly, the bullets ran out, and it became an all out battle in the hallway; punching, fighting, kicking however they could to defeat one another. It seemed Sloane's men were taking a lead, with most of his men still intact. Vaughn grew slowly worried as he punched some guy in the jaw, and collided the man's head with the butt of his gun.
Just then, Dixon's team arrived with more gun power than anyone could know. Vaughn whispered a thank you, and, out of breath, continued to beat the snot out of another of Sloane's men.
All of Vaughn's anger from his recent memory, anger from being gone for two years, and anger from losing Sydney and Alyssa was taken out today. He fought like he'd never fought before; aimed his gun like he'd never aimed before; was willing to fight to the death if it meant Sloane would be behind bars.
Dixon's team gave the CIA the exact edge they needed, and in no time Sloane had significantly fewer men. It was when Vaughn had emptied a gun Dixon had brought him that he spied Sydney down near the other end brutally fighting with someone. He watched for a moment in amazement; her swift moves and quick reflexes gave her brownie points, but the man she was fighting was physically stronger.
Sloane. She was fighting Sloane.
Vaughn called. You have to shoot him down there!
We can't... They're moving to violently. We'd risk shooting Sydney by mistake.
Vaughn sighed. He had to take this matter into his own hands. He looked around for something to do; Sloane had men practically guarding his fight with Sydney, so he couldn't simply run up and help her. If he shot at one of the guards, he really did have the chance of shooting Sydney. They'd have to find a way into one of the doors behind the guards.
He noticed a few other agents talking about such. Follow me, Vaughn told them, though he had no idea where to go. He led them out of the battling hallway, back to the hexagon, and back to the house. If the door they pushed Vaughn out of led to the outside, then surely the other ones had to. They followed Vaughn out of the house as he carefully diagrammed the hallways that lay below on the streets and fields of Lima.
As accurately as he could, he tried to recreate the path aboveground. They reached a field of wild flowers, below of which was the hexagon room. He took not a sharp left, but the next option and followed it back, taking turns where stairs or hallways would be. He finally announced they had to be just above the hallway where the agents and Sloane were.
Vaughn found himself back near the house, actually, in the garden behind it. He glanced around quickly in every direction, attempting to remember exactly where the guards were; looking for a sign of a passageway down. He saw the dirt path driveway down the hill to their left, but he found nothing more.
Please, he prayed, let Sydney be alive.
Then he spotted it: a simple mound under a bush. He rushed over to it and began to dig as fast as possible. Help me! he demanded, once he started to uncover something. We have to save Sydney.
And get Sloane, someone else added.
His mind was focused on Sydney alone, however. Determined to rescue her, he thought only of her life and not making himself look better. How was she doing down there? Was she still fighting him? It had been an awful long time. Had they decided to use the guns anyway? Could she have been... shot? He tried not to think of that, and only dug faster. Soon his knuckles scraped against wood and they discovered a slight ajar wooden trapdoor; a hidden ladder leading down below.
He opened the door as wide as it would go before jumping down and landing with a smack on the floor. Picking himself up in a hurry, he followed it's one way path, which led to a spiral staircase. Not wasting any time, he took the steps by threes and twos. Finally, he came to a door. A single, oak door, behind which (hopefully) fought the woman he loved and the man he hated. He pressed his ear to the door and heard not one, but several groups still in combat. Confused, he scarcely cracked open the door as the other agents appeared behind him.
The scene before him was barely recognizable from the last time he was in the hallway. There was rubble everywhere. The walls were cracked, the ceiling looked as if it might cave in, and dead or unconscious bodies lay everywhere. CIA agents had started to battle with Sloane's guards, and seemed to be doing successfully. And then there was Sydney...
Still alive.
Still fighting him.
Blood leaked a deep red from the side of her head and arm. She was out of breath and losing energy fast. Weakened, she found herself slammed into a wall. Sloane reached for a gun from the floor...
His fingers were mere centimeters away when Vaughn sprang through the door, taking a giant leap and tackling Sloane to the ground. He pinned his arms to the pebbly floor. Surrender now, you son of a bitch! he hissed through gritted teeth. Other agents soon surrounded them; they had beaten the guards. Dixon hurried up to them and tightened handcuffs around Sloane's wrists. Good work, Agent Vaughn, he said, pulling Sloane to his feet and leading him away with other armed agents, all while Sloane was too tired to fight back.
Vaughn stood up and brushed off his pants, noticing Sydney resting in the corner, still catching her breath. Her eyes looked up just as he looked at her, locking into each other's field of view. He caught her eye for once! Her perfect, round, brown eyes, staring into his. Not passed them or by them, but into them. He felt like a lovesick teenager, frozen to the spot. He smiled at her, letting the fact that they defeated Sloane settle in. And for the first time since his return, she smiled back at him; a full on dimpled smile as they mentally bonded over their mutual triumph.
A/n: SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN A LONG TIME! And I'm sorry if the mission was disappointing, I hate writing missions and admit I'm not very good at them. Hopefully you'll all still review! Hasn't the show gotten exciting lately? Syd beating up British Bitch Barbie, her dream about kissing Vaughn, her actually kissing Vaughn (!), the Room 47... I love it all!
~Whitelighter Enchantress