Disclaimer: See all of the previous chapters

Michael Vaughn's head throbbed as he glared at the computer screen in front of him. The explosion in Madrid hadn't been an isolated incident. Once they had gotten clear of the explosion, they had slowly begun to receive reports that the same thing had occurred at all of the other locations that they had suspected to have ties to Sloane. At the moment, Sloane's organization was in shambles and the whole intelligence community was involved in a chaotic whirlwind of activity.

Along with the collapse of Sloane's organization, both the CIA's and the NSC's collections of Rambaldi objects had been stolen and destroyed. As far as the CIA could tell, in fact, Rambaldi objects were being destroyed all around the world. In all of the chaos, finding Sydney, and now Jack, was far from a priority, at least for the Joint Task Force center. Vaughn didn't care what the CIA considered a priority at the moment, Sydney was the only thing that mattered. At the moment, though, he simply had no way to start looking for her. He had contacts searching for leads, but so far he had gotten nothing. It was as if Sydney, Jack, and even Irina had all disappeared.

Really the fact that all three of them were missing was too much of a coincidence to ignore. Still, his mind conjured up the bad rather than the good, arguing that it was the most likely outcome. Scenarios where Irina had captured Jack and Sydney and was torturing them for information or simply because she could, flashed through his mind. Images of Sydney lying dead and deserted in a pool of her own blood, refused to leave his mind. They haunted him.

A sharp ring startled him momentarily out of his dark and all too realistic thoughts. He reached to pick up the phone sitting on his desk automatically. "Vaughn," he responded blankly.

The phone continued to ring and he looked at it for a moment puzzled, until he realized that it was his cell phone. He dove into his coat pocket for it, when he realized that it was his personal cell phone. Snapping it open, barely even registering that the number on his cell phone was one he had never seen before and that the caller ID was registering it as unknown, he answered it quickly, "Vaughn."

The speaker, a garbled voice that was obviously electronically disguised, only uttered two very familiar words. "Joey's Pizza."

Fifteen minutes later he was pacing in the abandoned warehouse where he and Sydney had met so many times before the fall of SD-6. He wasn't sure why he was there, or what he was supposed to be doing- this could all be some wild goose chase. It was all that he had to go on, though. He was starting to lose what little patience that he had left, when his cell phone rang again. This time he caught it before the first ring was completed.

"Vaughn," he said sharply.

"Hi," a voice that he hadn't heard for far too long, said softly, "It's me."

"Sydney," he yelped, "What- Where are you, Syd? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said quickly.

Her voice was reassuring, and he could hear the special tone of voice that she reserved only for him. What worried him was the hesitation that he heard behind it. His spy-trained mind went into overdrive. Was she really telling the truth? Was someone forcing her to make this call to get the CIA off of their back? What was going on?

"I-" she hesitated again, "I can't tell you where I am," she said quickly. "I'm fine," she repeated, "and Dad's here with me," she added, "But I can't tell you much more than that. A lot has happened, and there's a lot that I still need to tell you, but I don't want to do this over the phone."

"Come home," he said quickly, going into handler mode almost immediately. "I can book you a flight, or arrange for a contact to smuggle you back into the country." He paused, his mind working through the possibilities, "Are you being tracked, Syd?"

"No," she said quickly, "Nothing like that. Listen Vaughn, I have to go." She sounded genuinely upset that she couldn't keep talking to him, "I know everything's crazy at work right now, but I can explain everything when I get home. Right now, though, I just need you to trust me. I'm fine," she said again, "And I should be home in a few days. I just didn't want you to worry," she added more softly.

Vaughn wanted to tell her that he was still worried about her, that he wouldn't stop worrying until she was home and safe in his arms, but he didn't. Whatever was going on at the moment, Sydney needed- or at least wanted- his support and he could easily give her that. He missed her so much and the sooner that she could get back the better. "Be safe," he said softly, wanting to let her know everything that he was feeling, but refraining for the moment. She was right, now was not the time or the place. When she got home, though. "Come back soon, Syd. I miss you."

He heard her hesitate again, "I-" She froze for a second, and he wondered what she was going to say. "I missed you, too," she said genuinely and the moment was passed. Still he couldn't help but smile. He was fairly certain that he knew what she had been about to say.

"Bye, Syd," he said quietly. He heard her faint reply before the phone clicked off. Vaughn walked out of the warehouse with a smile. He climbed easily into his car and started back to the office. Sydney would be home soon.

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By nature, Irina wasn't a woman who retreated from conflicts. If she had been, she wouldn't have survived four decades in her world and she certainly wouldn't have become the leader of an organization like the Man's.

It was simple really, what she had to do now. She had come to the same conclusion before, when she and Jack were in flight to Stockholm. She had decided then that once she had freed Sydney from Sloane she would stop allowing missions and their equally insane lives get between she and Jack. The first step towards that goal, Irina knew, was to talk to Jack. That of course, was easier said than done.

"Why, Jack," was all she asked. She didn't expect him to know what she was talking about really. Sometimes when they were working together and managed to forget for a moment at least, that they were supposed to hate one another, it was almost as if they could read each others mind. This wasn't one of those moments.

"Why what, Irina," he replied sharply. He seemed distracted by something else and that puzzled Irina. Something had to really be bothering Jack for him to be so distracted by it.

"Why did you help me when that guard shot me, Jack? I saw what you did to take out the shooter, and I remember everything else that you did, as well."

Jack looked at her with dry amusement, but she could see the darker turmoil of the emotions that he was hiding under that façade. "It wasn't that much of a hardship to see Sloane killed," he said easily, "And," he added with more of the grim iciness that she was used to from Jack, "as for saving your life. I did that for Sydney's sake. She seems to have reformed an emotional attachment to you. I didn't want her to lose her mother again."

"You're lying," she said softly, but with incontrovertible steeliness in her voice. "If Sydney's emotional well being were all that you had in mind, you wouldn't have-" She cut herself off abruptly.

Jack's eyes were boring into her suddenly, almost challenging her to finish the sentence and bring up things that had been buried for a very long time.

Remembering her wound for the moment, Irina stood up carefully off of the bed and walked towards him slowly. She stood in front of him easily, barely having to tilt her head up at all to meet his eyes. "You didn't have to do this, Jack," she said calmly, and reached towards his face.

He met her eyes for a split second, and then his hand grabbed her wrist, freezing it in a painfully tight grip. "Don't, Irina."

A hint of a smile tugged at her lips, "You started it, Jack."

He grimaced, "Although that is debatable, Irina. I will take care of it now. This will end here and now. If the last several decades have taught me nothing else, I have learned that anytime that I trust you, you will betray me."

She backed a step away from him and leaned casually up against a dark mahogany dresser. The gunshot wound in her chest was determined to remind her that she wasn't as young as she used to be. She needed more time to recover than she had in the past. She hated the way that she had suddenly felt weak. "Have you ever considered, Jack, that maybe everything wasn't as it seemed?"

He looked at her in almost blatant disbelief, "Nothing is ever as it seems when you're involved, Irina. You are nothing but lies and deception."

"I didn't lie to you this time," she stated calmly. "I promised you I would keep Sydney safe. I did and we rescued you."

"Excuse me, if I don't feel indebted to you, Irina."

"I don't want you to feel indebted to me, Jack," she snapped, "I just want you to listen to me."

He smirked at her harshly, "You lost that right a long time ago, Irina."

"Things change," she shot back, "Don't you see, I have no reason to lie to you. Sloane is dead, and even as we speak, my people have a standing order to find and completely destroy all of Rambaldi's works." She stepped back towards him, "Jack, I'm in control of a large intelligence network, if I want information from or about the CIA, I don't have to seduce one of their agents to get it."

"Then why are you doing this, Irina? What do you want?"

"You," she said simply, "Sydney. I want to be part of a family again. I want to tell you something and have you believe me- without a C4 necklace."

"It's too late for that, Irina." He turned sharply on his heel and started to walk away.

It had been years since Irina had truly been in danger of loosing what she wanted, of having no resources at her fingertips, no other options. Desperation was a foreign and uncomfortable feeling to her. "Jack," she snapped, as he lifted a hand to open the door, "Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't love me."

He stopped where he was and paused for a long moment. He turned around to face her, crossing the distance between then in two quick steps. His hand slammed into the wall millimeters to the left of Irina's head.

She didn't even flinch.

"Leave me alone, Irina," he roared. "You have no right to ask that. You lied to me for ten years, claiming that you loved me."

Irina leaned forward until her face was right next to his and whispered, "I'm not going to hurt you again, Jack. I wasn't lying. I did love you and I do love you."

This time Jack didn't stop her as she reached towards his face, he seemed to be frozen- either unwilling or unable to move and break the moment. Her fingers trailed across his face and she leaned forward to kiss his lips softly. She had told him everything that she could say. She let her hand trail down to rest on his chest, but refused to move away from him, savoring his proximity even as she waited for him to push her away. She was surprised- pleasantly so- when his lips found hers again, responding as he hadn't a moment before.

When they pulled apart a moment later the first thing that Irina noticed was the absence of the hard, cold look in Jack's eyes. She cocked her at him curiously. She hadn't expected her words, or her kiss, to effect him. She opened her mouth to question him, but didn't speak as she pressed a finger to his lips.

"Ask me tomorrow," he said softly. "Ask me everyday until you have the answer that you want."

Irina smiled. His answer wasn't to declare his undying love for her. That would be too unbelievable. As much as she wanted to hear Jack say that he loved her, she didn't care. There was an implied promise in his words that didn't escape her. Jack had said that she could ask him every day. That meant that he wanted her there with him everyday, and while not everything she hoped for, Irina could definitely live with that for now.

She leaned back in and kissed him again. Everything else could wait.

Please leave a review for this chapter and let me know what you think. This fic is almost over, but the epilogue, or final chapter will definitely be added soon.