Title: The Courier
Author: DOKChairman
Time/Spoilers: Don't know; it's a future fic. Assume everything up to "Truth Takes Time" is fair game.
Disclaimer: I don't own Alias, at least not at this moment. There was this brief period of time back in '01 where JJ briefly lost the rights to the show to me in a poker game, but he liquored me up on alcohol and somehow managed to convince me that a pair of threes was good enough to beat a full house. That bastard. Just think of all the things I could have accomplished by now if I still ran this show... Damn you JJ!
Warning: This ain't your typical fic. It's bloody, violent, action-packed, full of language, possibly inappropriate humor (actually, this one is a certainty), sex (at least in my mind there is), and maybe, just maybe, some S/V action thrown in. If this don't float yer boat, or send your trailer rockin, don't read on. If, however, you don't mind an adrenaline fueled romp (hehe, I said romp) then please continue at your leisure. Oh, and did I mention that there would be Action Vaughn and Devious Sark? No? Ok, good then.
Dedication: I can't believe I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but mucho thanks to Vicky and Jeanne for their assistance in making this story less crappy. I really appreciate the things you two girls do for me. Thank you!
Chapter 2: Can You Hear Me Now?
Vaughn ran. He ran, but he knew it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough to get away. It wasn't enough to stop the gunshot wound in his stomach from going septic. It wasn't enough to save his life.
Even amongst the noises and sounds of Greater London, Vaughn could hear the steady patter of footfalls approaching him. It was as if they were echoing in his mind. He had been running for what felt like hours. Through alleys, down vacant streets, past crowded pubs full of oblivious patrons, all in an attempt to outrun his pursuer. He never did.
And now he had run himself into a dead end. Fitting, he thought. He brought his left hand away from the makeshift bandage on his stomach to wipe the heavy sweat off his forehead. He was starting to become feverish, and the fact that he had been exerting himself to the brink of utter exhaustion, contributed to a veritable downpour of sweat running down his face. At least it helped clean off the blood and grime, he thought grimly.
Vaughn scurried into the darkest corner of the alley, piling the garbage of the alley in front of him in an attempt to hide. There was a chance, a slight one he knew, but a chance nonetheless that his pursuer would bypass the alley that he had just run down.
Vaughn was just too tired to continue on. The shrapnel slivers embedded in his legs and the wound in his stomach were quickly sucking the life out of him. It had taken nearly all of his effort just to walk down the 50 foot alley. There was no way he could keep running. If only he still had his gun...
A scuffling sound of feet against pavement alerted Vaughn, and then, there he was. Vaughn could just make out the man's shape at the opening of the alley. The man paused at the entrance, his calculating eyes staring down the alley as if he could see through the thick night and piles of odious debris. With a predatory grace, the man started walking into the alley.
Vaughn silently swore to himself. How? How the fuck did He know where he was? No matter what he did, no matter where he went, the man was always there. It just wasn't possible.
He was so close. Just a few more feet and he would find him. Vaughn knew he was dead and the heavy weight tied to his hand would fall into the hands of his enemies. He was a failure. As the man moved closer, Vaughn briefly wondered if this was what his father had gone through before he had met his demise. For some reason, Vaughn thought it entirely possible.
And then he was there. Towering over him with a sadistic grin on his face and a gun in his hand. "I believe you have something I want, Agent Vaughn." The cultured tone of his voice echoed boisterously in the confines of the alley.
All Vaughn managed in response was a pathetic groan. The man reached down and grabbed Vaughn's right wrist in a firm grip. He spoke calmly, as if he was commenting on the morning paper, "This may hurt for a bit, Agent Vaughn, but I assure you, you won't have to worry about the pain for very long." And with that, the man pulled roughly and broke Vaughn's wrist; the cracking sound of the bones breaking deafening to Vaughn's ears.
Vaughn stifled the scream of pain as best he could, but even still, a whimper escaped his chapped lips. With Vaughn's wrist now broken, the man easily maneuvered the steel handcuff off of Vaughn's arm and picked up the large case.
The man backed up several steps and cocked the hammer of his 9mm. He pointed the gun at Vaughn's forehead and was about to pull the trigger when suddenly somebody yelled from the entrance of the alley, "Sark!!"
Both men spun their heads to settle on the sight of the newcomer; one in relief, the other in disdain.
Before Vaughn knew what was going on, they were fighting. Sark tossed the metal case to free up both hands, and was just turning to face the newcomer at the alley when he was attacked. The woman kicked the gun out of his hand and it went flying into the night. Soon, both bodies became a blur of limbs in the darkened night.
Vaughn tried to stand up to help his savior, but he was ineffectual even in his feeble efforts. Too weak, he could not even make it to his feet. After his third attempt he simply gave up and succumbed to the welcome embrace of the solid ground. Besides, for some reason, his limbs felt heavy, as if they no longer worked. Vaughn could barely move.
So, Vaughn watched. Praying that the one he loved most would reign victorious. And for a time, it looked like she would.
For most of the fight, Sark had been on the defensive, barely stopping crippling blows from striking and getting very few shots of his own in. But then she made a mistake. In an attempt to put Sark down for good, she had swung high and full of power. She had missed. Sark had dodged the blow, letting her forward momentum carry her off balance and over extending herself. Sark used the opportunity to strike her wide open torso, jabbing her hard in the side.
The breath was knocked out of her with the violence of the blow and she went down to her knees. Sark used the lull in the fighting to dive for his gun that rested no more than six feet away. Vaughn once again tried to stand up and help, but this time he didn't even make it half way. His legs felt like they were made of lead and he was short of breath. He was paralyzed.
She dived atop of Sark in an attempt to wrest control of the gun away from him, and a struggle ensued. Both rolled around the dirt encrusted ground of the alley, elbows and knees flying into bodies, in an attempt to achieve victory. Somehow, Sark rolled atop her with the gun pinned between their two bodies.
Vaughn could only watch in abject horror. For a few brief seconds of peace, the fighting stopped, the city of London grew quiet, and the rapid beating of Vaughn's heart became a distant background noise. And then it happened. The shot exploded in the alley, echoing off the walls and deafening all three trapped in its possession.
Both bodies went limp. And Vaughn, paralyzed as much with despair as pain, could only scream out her name as everything darkened. Her name ripped from his lips in an anguished yell as his heart shattered with the thought that that was the last he would ever see of her, "Sydney!!!"
*****************************
Vaughn woke with a violent start, Sydney's name still on his lips. He lunged forward out of his cramped chair and violently banged his arm against the seat in front of him. As he came to awareness, he looked wildly around the cabin for any sign of Sydney. Instead, all he saw were several pairs of eyes staring at him quizzically. Vaughn blushed and sunk back into his chair in embarrassment.
Relief flooded his body as he realized that it had only been a nightmare. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real. A small part screamed at him, 'But it had felt so real!' Vaughn did his best to ignore that voice. He would die before he let anything like that happen, he though heatedly.
He wiped his hand across his moist brow and came away with a hand soaked in sweat. This whole Sydney thing had him more worked up than he thought. His doubts about the mission only increased. If he couldn't concentrate, he had to seriously consider pulling himself off the mission.
That was something he had never had to do before and the very idea of pulling himself off a mission because he couldn't control his emotions disgusted him. 'This is why you don't get emotionally attached,' his mind berated him. Even his mind was giving him problems. Vaughn groaned and tried to raise his right hand to massage his temple. It didn't quite make it.
In his agitated mind he seemed to have forgotten that his right arm was currently attached to a large metal case and that said metal case didn't really feel like breaking the laws of physics and suddenly becoming light enough that he could just lift his arm at will. No. Instead, the case decided to just sit in the empty seat next to him, constantly reminding him of the enormity of his decision. What the hell had he been thinking? Since when did he run from his problems?
Vaughn felt a gentle tap on his shoulder and he looked up with heavy eyes into the face of Agent Willard. "Do you mind if I sit here?" Willard asked tentatively.
Vaughn could see the worry in the other man's eyes and he acquiesced to the man's request. Perhaps talking to the other agent would help clear his mind. Sleeping certainly wasn't helping, Vaughn thought sardonically. "Sure. I've got nothing better to do." Vaughn then grabbed the gray case and set it on the ground between his feet. It was a slightly uncomfortable angle for his arm, but it was a manageable discomfort.
Willard settled into the proffered seat next to Vaughn and gave Vaughn a hesitant smile.
A silence overcame both men until Vaughn broke it with a question in order to lighten the mood, "Would you remind me again why we're on a commercial flight?"
Willard grinned amicably. "Under ideal circumstances, we wouldn't be. But courier missions are a frequent operation and the Agency simply can't afford to maintain its own fleet. Besides, the Agency hates the idea of waiting on the military for whenever one of their planes deploys overseas. It's an expedience issue." Willard paused and then said encouragingly, "It's actually not a bad deal. The airlines cut the Agency a huge discount and we never have to worry about not getting to our destination in time."
"In other words, what you're basically telling me is that we've been relegated to coach and forced to sit in these god awful uncomfortable chairs for ten hours straight simply because the Agency is cheap?" Vaughn asked sardonically.
"That's it exactly."
Vaughn groaned dramatically and Willard smiled indulgently. "I can't believe I actually volunteered for this mission," Vaughn complained.
Willard suddenly grew serious at the mention of the mission. "Right, the mission. Let's discuss the SOP. Assistant Director Kendall informed me that this was your first courier mission and that I was supposed to give you a basic rundown of what's expected."
Vaughn followed along, nodding his head in agreement every once in a while. "Once we land in Heathrow, we'll disembark the plane and head for the main concourse. There will be two agents attached to the embassy there to greet us. We'll depart for the embassy immediately after the rendezvous. Hopefully, if all goes as planned, we'll have that thing off your wrist within two hours of our landing."
"Sounds easy enough. How many times have you done this?" Vaughn asked curiously.
"I've done protection detail four times and have been a courier twice, all without incident. Rarely are there any complications, but the Agency doesn't like taking chances," Willard replied.
Vaughn relaxed into his seat in obvious relief. The nightmare had put it him on edge considerably, so it was a huge relief to hear that things would run smoothly.
Willard must have picked up on Vaughn's restlessness and anxiety because he said reassuringly, "Hey, man, relax. We train years for this kind of stuff. I mean, it may be your first time as a courier, but it's not your first mission in the field."
Vaughn nodded his head reluctantly. "I know, I know. It's irrational. Don't worry about me; it's more personal issues back home that are weighing on my mind than concerns about the mission."
Willard nodded his head understandably. "Got it. As long as your head is in the game when we land, we'll be fine."
Vaughn replied seriously, "It will be."
Suddenly, Vaughn's pocket began to vibrate. He reached his left hand into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. He spoke into the phone tiredly, "Vaughn."
"I used to think that you were a smart man, Mike, but after today I'm beginning to question that thought. Either you have the biggest pair of balls known to mankind, or else you are the stupidest man to ever walk the face of the planet."
Vaughn groaned. "Hello, Eric."
Weiss continued on, "I can't believe you actually went on this mission without telling Sydney first. She's been looking all over for you."
Vaughn sighed and then put his hand over the phone as he turned his head to speak to Willard. "Do you mind? I kind of want to take this in private. It's those personal issues I was talking about earlier."
Willard shook his head. "Not at all. If it helps you get focused, I'll gladly leave you be."
Vaughn smiled gratefully, "Thanks."
Willard got out of his seat and Vaughn focused his attention back on his phone and Weiss. Not really caring that he'd apparently come in at the end of one of Weiss's sentences, Vaughn waited until he thought Weiss was done, "I told you before I left that I wasn't going to tell Sydney anything."
"I know that, but I didn't think you were actually serious. I mean, you know better than anyone how Sydney gets about these kinds of things."
Vaughn nodded his head, even though he knew Weiss couldn't see him do it. He did know better than anyone how difficult Sydney could be. Especially when you were doing something behind her back, which Vaughn wasn't technically doing. But despite the huge blowup that they had had, he still felt guilty that he had left without telling her. He knew how he would feel if the situation was reversed.
Vaughn sighed and asked, "You haven't told her anything, have you?"
There was a slight pause on Weiss's side, and Vaughn cringed at the extended silence. "Nah, man, I've managed to redirect her attention elsewhere for the time being. But it's only a matter of time before I run out of excuses...or until she runs into Kendall or her father."
It was naive of Vaughn to have thought that he could have gone on this mission without Sydney finding out eventually. "Where is she now?"
"She's at home. I got to say, whatever the hell you guys are fighting about, it has to be bad. I've never seen Sydney like this before. What the hell did you do, Mike?"
Vaughn resented the implication that he had done something wrong. He couldn't stop the anger that entered his voice. He practically barked into the phone, "Why do you automatically assume it was something I did?"
Weiss backpedaled hurriedly, "Hey, I didn't mean anything by it. Whatever happened, I don't want to know. The last thing I need is to get between you two when you're like this. I'm the one likely to suffer."
Vaughn calmed down a bit. "I appreciate your concern, Eric, and thanks for your help with Sydney." Vaughn paused and then said teasingly, "What would I do without you?"
Weiss snort came in loud and clear over the phone lines. "I ask myself that question all the time and something tells me you wouldn't like the answer. Although, there is something you could do to show your appreciation."
Vaughn didn't like the sound of that. He had a feeling that whatever was about to come out of Weiss's mouth would likely be about one of two things: food or women. Neither option was very appealing. Hesitantly, he asked, "What?"
"Could you bring me back some nuts?" Weiss sounded almost embarrassed when he asked for his favor. Trying to explain himself better, he added, "You know, the kind they give you on your flight."
Vaughn stared at his phone in disbelief. That was what he wanted? "You've got to be kidding me? You want me to bring you back nuts? That's it? Just a bag of nuts?"
Weiss said defensively, "Hey, I like nuts, so what? The ones on the airplanes are the best. You can warm them up and everything."
Vaughn wanted to clarify. "So, in order for you to run interference with Sydney, all you want is a bag of warm nuts?"
"Yeah, but how long I can stall Sydney is anybody's guess. I figure you've got a few more hours until you get an angry phone call wondering why you're half way across the planet and why you didn't even bother to tell her that you were leaving."
Vaughn sighed again. "Well, regardless of what happens, thanks again for your help." Vaughn paused briefly to look up. He saw a flight attendant coming in his direction and he quickly spoke into his phone. "Look, Eric, I gotta go. One of the flight attendants is making her way over and you know how they feel about cell phones. I'll talk to you when I get back."
"Sure thing. Just make sure you don't get your stupid ass killed. Sydney would probably blame me and I don't think my health can take a confrontation with Sydney Bristow. I'll call you when you land and give you a status report on Operation: Bamboozle Sydney. Or, as I like to call it, Operation: Bullshit."
Vaughn smirked and said, "Right. Goodbye, Eric."
Vaughn then hung up his cell phone and rushed to put it back in his jacket pocket. The flight attendant who had stopped at his aisle shot Vaughn a disapproving scowl and Vaughn merely smiled innocently back. The woman continued to stare at Vaughn for a few seconds more, and then moved further back into the plane.
Vaughn reached down and picked up the metal case and placed it back on its seat. With a small smile Vaughn relaxed as best he could into his seat and tried again to sleep. For some reason, his conversation with his best friend had done wonders for his troubled mind. He was no longer as anxious as he had been. Vaughn closed his eyes and tried to dream of Sydney and himself, and a much happier time. Two minutes later, he was asleep with a smile on his face. This time, his dreams were much more pleasant.
**************************
When Vaughn disembarked from the plane, he did so with a spring in his step and a carefree smile on his face. The three hour nap he had managed to get after his conversation with Weiss had revitalized him with a new buoyant energy and he had had a lot time to think over his problems during his long flight over the Atlantic. He was no longer bogged down by anxiety over the mission or angst over his fight with Sydney.
This mission was an opportunity, he told himself. An opportunity to distance himself from Sydney for some much needed space. The last thing he wanted was to somehow irreparably harm his relationship with Sydney. Sure they had fought, and sure he was exceedingly angry with her, but he certainly didn't want the relationship to end. She meant way too much to him for that. Besides, all couples fought occasionally, this just happened to be their first major fight.
Vaughn had no doubt that once this mission was completed and he flew back to L.A., he and Sydney would work things out. He was sure of that. Their relationship was far too strong to be hijacked by issues, albeit serious issues, but issues nonetheless. They would overcome this obstacle, just like any other. A very small part of him worried that they would never recover from the fight, but he refused to listen to that cynical side of his psyche.
"There they are, over there." Willard's surreptitious voice intruded on Vaughn's thoughts and he looked up to see two men waiting discreetly by a newsstand. They were dressed in plainclothes: jeans, long sleeved turtlenecks to fight the bite of the London weather, and black windbreakers. If it hadn't been for Willard pointing them out, Vaughn knew he probably would have never spotted them on his own.
"How do you know it's them?" Vaughn asked curiously.
Willard answered quietly, "The magazines they're looking at. They're the sign. Watch..." Willard's voice trailed off and Simkin made a casual beeline towards the newsstand. Once there, Simkin "accidentally" bumped into one of the two men, knocking the magazine out of his hand. A flurry of words were spoken, none of which Vaughn could make out from his distance, and Simkin made his way back towards the group.
Simkin reported as soon as he got back. "It's them; all the phrases check out. They have two cars waiting for us in one of the Northern temporary parking lots. We're to meet them there in 20 minutes."
Willard nodded his head, acknowledging the information, and turned to face Vaughn. "I think it would be best if we make our way toward the parking lot now. It's not good to stay idle, even in this airport."
Was Willard asking for his opinion? It wasn't until just then that he realized that despite this being his first courier mission, he was technically the senior agent. He was technically the one in charge. How could he have forgotten something as important as that?
He had been too distracted that's how. Vaughn shook his head in self-disgust. Vaughn knew that he knew better than to let his emotions get the better of him. Well, he was determined not to let his personal problems cloud his judgment any longer. "Sounds like a good idea. Although let's wait for five more minutes. We don't want to arrive too early."
"Agreed. But let's not stay here. Too suspicious."
The four men moved away from the information kiosk they had been studying and began a lazy circuit around Heathrow's shopping area. After a little over five minutes of aimless walking, the four men started on their way towards their target destination.
On the way, Vaughn's cell phone vibrated in his pocket again. He pulled it out and checked the number on the display and grinned slightly. He answered with a much more welcome tone than the last time, "Hey, Eric." Vaughn checked his watch and was surprised at the time. It was only eight in the morning back home. He had almost forgotten the vast time differences between the two continents.
"Things aren't going so well, Mike. Operation: Bullshit has been scrubbed. Sydney just walked into headquarters about ten minutes ago. Kendall told her that you were on a mission, but he refused to tell her what kind or where you were. As you can imagine, that did not go over very well with Sydney."
Vaughn chuckled lightly and his smile grew fondly. Watching Sydney tear into Kendall had always been a secret pleasure of his. Despite the circumstances, he was sorry he had missed it. Weiss continued, his voice lowering conspiratorially, "Somehow, she found out that I know where you're at and she's been looking for me ever since she finished with Kendall. So far I've managed to avoid her, but it's only a matter of time."
Vaughn figured it was time he bit the bullet, so to speak. "Look, if she finds you, don't bother denying what you know. Just tell her. I don't want you getting caught in the crossfire. Of course, that doesn't mean I want you to just give me up, but only tell her if she finds you. All right?"
"Yeah. Got it. I'll do my best, but your girlfriend can be very determined when she wants to be. She scares me."
Vaughn noticed that they had reached the parking garage and it was time he ended the phone call. "I gotta go Eric. Call me in about four hours." Vaughn then stopped and looked at the three men watching him and added, "I should be free by then."
Weiss said his goodbyes and Vaughn hung up the phone just as the four of them entered the car park. They spotted the two men from earlier farther down the long line of cars and started on their way towards them.
It didn't take long for them to reach the embassy personnel and introductions were made. The taller of the two men, a large man with broad shoulders and dark brown hair, introduced himself as Agent Brooks. Brooks then introduced the other man as Agent Johnson. Johnson was a few inches shorter than Brooks, but considerably leaner and more intense.
Brooks addressed the group. "Agents Vaughn, Willard, Simkin, and myself will take the lead car. Johnson and Holly will travel in the chase car." Brooks then motioned with his hand to two imposing black Mercedes parked in front of the six men. Vaughn almost felt like whistling in appreciation. At least some part of the Agency knew how to travel in style.
The six men moved to their respective cars and climbed in. Willard climbed into the back, sliding all the way to the right so as to make room for Vaughn. Brooks assumed the driver's seat and Simkin took the passenger seat. Vaughn looked out the tinted windows to see Johnson and Holly get into their own car. Soon, both cars were moving.
The late afternoon traffic outside the airport was relatively heavy and so the two cars traveled at a leisurely pace. Vaughn was tempted to take another nap, but that would have been against mission protocol and Vaughn had already let his own problems cloud his judgment enough for one day. But he needed something to occupy his mind so he asked Brooks, "These standard issue?"
Brooks looked at the rearview mirror and Vaughn saw his eyes looking over him. "You mean the cars?" Vaughn nodded his head and Brooks chuckled lightly. "Not usually, no. But every once in a while the Agency needs a little extra "protection" for its operations. These cars have a Level VI rating and can pretty much handle most small-arms fire. In fact, if it's hit just right, the armor can even handle taking a direct shot from an RPG."
"Nice. But is all this really necessary?"
There was no trace of humor in Brooks' voice when he said, "For that thing you've got strapped to your arm it is."
That shut Vaughn up and he slouched back into his seat. He so did not want to hear that. The car grew silent again as Vaughn began to wonder what exactly was inside the metal case at his side.
****************************
When Sydney finally found Weiss, he was in the last place she would have expected. He was hiding out in the JTF's Tech room, and from the looks of it, he was involved in a pretty spirited argument with the room's occupants. She opened the door quietly and snuck in. When she heard what they were arguing about, she had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud.
She heard Weiss say heatedly, "No way, man! Carrie Fisher as Princess Leia was way hotter than Natalie Portman as Amidala. No comparison. It was the hair, man, the hair!!"
One of the tech guys retorted vehemently, "Hey, Amidala had some whacked out hair as well! Besides, Portman is so much hotter than Fisher ever was."
Sydney figured she better make her presence known before the argument escalated further. Besides, she was supposed to be pissed and if she listened to their argument any longer, she would lose her angry resolve. Clearing her throat loudly, she easily gained the attention of the room.
A smug smile graced her lips when she saw Weiss's face pale. She motioned with her head, and Weiss reluctantly stood up and followed her out of the room. Before she left the room she heard Weiss say, "Guys, if I'm not back in an hour, make sure my parents know I died a hero!"
Sydney scowled and waited impatiently outside the room for Weiss. When he finally walked out and closed the door, Sydney immediately started to interrogate him, "Where the hell is he? What kind of mission is he on? What the hell was he thinking!?"
Weiss took a step backward, trying to put some much needed space between himself and Sydney. "Before I start, I just wanted to say that I was dragged into this whole situation against my will and I can't be held responsible for Mike's mistakes. So, please don't hurt me!"
Sydney growled, "I will if you don't answer my questions right now!"
Weiss swallowed nervously. "Uhh...right. He's in London right now on a courier mission. He's transporting some case, and before you ask, I have no clue what's inside."
"Have you talked to him since he left?"
Weiss shifted his feat uncomfortably and he looked away. Quietly he answered, "Yeah. I've called him a few times."
Sydney's face hardened and she demanded. "Give me your phone."
He didn't know what she wanted with it, but he wasn't about to argue with her when she was like this. Weiss fished it out of his pocket and asked confused, "What do you need my phone for?"
Ignoring his question, Sydney grabbed it forcefully out of his hand and asked, "Was he the last person you called?" Weiss nodded his head. He was starting to catch on now. Sydney added, "If I call from your phone, he won't know it's me until he answers. And I know him, he won't hang up on me, but I need him to answer first."
Weiss's face whitened even more as he looked on, Sydney pressing redial. A few seconds passed as Sydney waited for the connection to be made and she brought the phone up to her ear. Vaughn's voice came over the line loud and clear, and Sydney could detect a faint trace of annoyance. That was good, because then he would understand how she was feeling. "I thought I told you not to call me for another four hours, Eric."
Sydney started in on him immediately, "So you'll tell Weiss where you're going and what you're doing, but you won't tell me?"
She heard Vaughn sigh and then say angrily, "Now is not a good time, Sydney."
Sydney tightened her grip on the phone and yelled into the phone, "Well, that's too damn bad! Did you think I wouldn't find out? Did you really think you could disappear for a few days without me noticing? Not even you are that stupid." Sydney saw Weiss wince off to her side and she realized that she might have gone a little too far with her last comment.
Sydney began to reign her emotions back in, but Vaughn's angry retort got her all worked up again. "I don't owe you a damn thing! You made that pretty clear to me the other night."
Sydney objected, "You're the one who made a big deal out of the situation!"
There was a slight pause and Vaughn lowered his angry tone to a more forceful one when he spoke. "I'm in the middle of a mission, Sydney, and we are not going to have this discussion now. We'll talk about it more when I get back."
"No. Either we talk about it now, or don't bother coming back," Sydney spat out. She was letting her emotions get out of control but it was too late to reel them back in. She was horrified at her own words, but she didn't know how to take them back. Vaughn certainly wasn't making it any easier with the way he was acting.
Vaughn responded in disbelief, "You don't mean what you just said. I know you and you did not just say that you would end our relationship like this."
"I did just say that and I mean it too."
There was a pause, and Vaughn's voice was quiet and doubtful when he returned and said, "I don't believe you. You don't really mean that, Sydne-" Vaughn stopped talking and Sydney heard over the line the piercing squeal of tires screeching against pavement.
Sydney heard a man yell, "Oh shit! Hold on!" And then the sickening impact of metal against metal reverberated across the phone line.
Sydney felt her heart speed up and panic entered her voice when she asked, "Vaughn!! Vaughn, what's going on?"
Vaughn never answered, instead, she heard a loud thud as Vaughn's cell phone fell out of his hand and impacted against the floor of the car. The phone stayed on and Sydney heard several men yelling at once. Sydney desperately tried to make out Vaughn's voice against the cacophony of sounds coming over the line, but there was just too much going on for her to single out his voice.
"Are you all right, Brooks?"
"Ye...ah. I think my leg is pinned to the seat though."
"Right! Hold on. Where the hell are Johnson and Holly?"
Suddenly, Sydney heard a staccato of gunshots and she felt her blood run cold.
"Aw shit, we're under fire! Get on the line and contact the embassy! Tell them we've been intercepted."
More gunshots sounded out, this time louder than the first ones, and Sydney could only assume that Vaughn and the agents were firing at their attackers. Sydney could hear the sounds of bullets pinging off the heavy metal of the car and the heavy breathing of the men inside.
Sydney heard a man cry out, "Watch the right. I think I saw some of them moving up along the row of cars!"
Weiss, who had been anxiously standing close to Sydney hoping to hear what was going on, whispered into Sydney's ear, "What's going!? Are they under attack?"
Sydney whipped her head around and glared at Weiss. She snapped, "Yes, and I can't get Vaughn. I don't know what the hell is going on!"
Weiss frowned and then said hurriedly, "I'm going to go alert Kendall. Perhaps we can coordinate an extraction team."
Sydney nodded her head distractedly. She didn't care what Weiss did, all she cared about was hearing Vaughn's voice so that she would know he was okay.
More gunshots echoed across the line and then she heard someone moan. "Uhg...I'm hit! My leg."
A long stream of gunshots sounded and then Sydney heard Vaughn's voice come in clearly over the line, "Damnit! There's three of them...over there! I think they're trying to get close to the car." There was a pause and someone said something but it was too quiet for Sydney to hear. But Vaughn's voice came back on. "I don't know! I think one of them has something in his hand. It looks like a....ah fuck! It's a mine! Everybody out of the car now!!!"
Sydney yelled into the phone, "Vaughn!! Pick up, please!!"
But there was no response.
Eight seconds after Vaughn's alarming announcement, the sound of something slapping against the outside of the car could be heard clearly over Vaughn's cell phone. Five seconds after that, there was a deafening explosion and Sydney had to pull the phone away from her ear.
Her face paled and her body went limp. She had to lean against the wall of the hallway in order to support her body. The last thing she had heard before the phone had gone dead had been Vaughn screaming in pain.
