A/N: Sorry for the extra long wait for this chapter. Thank you all for being so patient and for being such wonderful readers!
Chapter 34: "The Best Laid Plans"
Sydney stretched luxuriously as the rays of early morning sunlight streamed in through the windows in Vaughn's room on Saturday morning. She couldn't remember the last time that she had slept so well, but she suspected that it must have been in Santa Monica, the last time she woke up in a bed next to Vaughn. She yawned and opened her eyes, expecting to see Vaughn laying next to her, but his side of the bed was completely empty.
She assumed that he had taken Donovan for a walk until she looked down at the floor next to her side of the bed and saw the little dog looking up at her expectantly. She smiled, remembering the way that she'd woken up to find him laying on the floor next to her each morning while she was in Virginia. She reached down to pet him briefly before reluctantly leaving the warmth of Vaughn's bed. She quickly grabbed one of his white dress shirts that was laying across a chair in the corner of the room and padded out into the hallway, with Donovan trotting along behind her.
"Vaughn?" she sleepily called out.
"I'm in the kitchen."
Sydney entered the kitchen to see Vaughn beating eggs as a colorful display of chopped vegetables, diced ham, and grated cheese covered half of the countertop.
"Hey," he smiled over his shoulder as she walked toward him.
She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and kissed his cheek. "Hi. Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"
"You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to. Besides, it's Saturday. You deserve to sleep late."
"I never sleep late except when I'm with you," she smiled as she hopped up on the counter and watched him continue to beat the eggs. "I didn't know you could cook."
"I can't," he laughed. "I can make omelettes and spaghetti, and that's about the extent of my culinary skills. Why do you think I know so many good restaurants? It's because I never cook."
"Ah, the truth comes out. You didn't have to make breakfast for me, though, if you never cook."
"I wanted to. It's no big deal," he shrugged.
"No, I mean, really, you shouldn't have. Is it going to be edible?" she teased.
"Not after a put the cyanide in," he shot back. "Relax. I may not be able to boil water, but I can make a champion omelet."
"Then I can't wait to taste it," she smiled. "Are you going to make me breakfast every morning once we're married?" she grinned.
"I'll do whatever you want after we're married."
"Do you have a pen and some paper so I can record the exact date and time at which you made that promise?"
"No, I sure don't," he laughed. They grinned stupidly at each other for a few moments until they were interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone.
"Hello?" Vaughn asked as he picked up the cordless phone. "Hey! I was going to call you later this afternoon. How was New York? Yeah? You'll have to tell me all about it over dinner. I know, I am too."
Sydney listened and watched with interest as Vaughn carried on his conversation with a wide smile on his face. As she watched him cross over to the refrigerator, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, she realized how wonderfully, blessedly normal it felt to be at home with him on a Saturday morning. Even though she'd been at his place for less than twenty-four hours, she already felt like it was home, and she couldn't wait to share more mornings like this with him.
"Hey, I have a surprise for you, okay? Hang on just a second."
Sydney looked at him curiously as he smiled and held the phone out to her.
"No one's supposed to know I'm here," she whispered, holding her hand over the receiver.
"It's fine. Trust me."
She rolled her eyes as she apprehensively answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Sydney? Well, this is a surprise. I didn't know that you would be there with Michael."
"Elise!" Sydney cried in delight. "How are you?
"I'm wonderful, dear. How are you doing?" Elise warmly asked.
"I'm good. Really good, actually," she smiled at Vaughn as he beamed back at her.
"Is Michael taking good care of you?"
"Of course. He's the best, but you already know that. You must be excited to see him again on Monday."
"I am, but it's such a short visit that I'll probably end up seeing him only long enough to have dinner. Michael is insisting that I come to Los Angeles in July, though, so hopefully I'll get to spend more time with him then, and with you as well."
"I would love that. I can't wait to see you again."
"I'm looking forward to it as well. Listen, I'm about to drive through a tunnel, so I need to hang up, but please tell Michael that I'll pick him up from the airport on Monday afternoon."
"Okay, I will. Take care, Elise."
"You too, Sydney. Au revoir."
"Your mom's so cute," Sydney smiled as she disconnected the call and handed the phone back to Vaughn. "She said to tell you that she'll pick you up from the airport on Monday. Why were you smiling so much while we were talking?"
"Just because," he smiled. "The two of you are my favorite women, that's all. And, uh, speaking of mothers," Vaughn hesitantly began, "have you talked to yours lately?"
"No," Sydney said in surprise. "Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering. You haven't mentioned her in the last few weeks."
"I haven't had anything to say about her," she shrugged. "I don't really have anything to say *to* her either."
"Why not?"
"Why would I?"
"Because she's your mother?" Vaughn offered.
"That's not a good enough reason," she sourly replied. "You know, you're the *last* person I'd expect to sound surprised and disappointed that I haven't spoken with my mother recently."
"I never said I was disappointed, but I am surprised. Why haven't you talked to her?" he gently asked as he stepped away from the stove and stood in front of her.
"Why do you think?" she pointedly asked.
"Syd," he sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. This is why I wasn't going to tell you about the things that she said to me."
"But you did, because I asked you to. And I'm glad that you told me, because if you hadn't, I wouldn't know just what kind of person she is -- not that it should have come as a shock to me," she bitterly added.
"Syd, you still don't know what kind of person she is, because you -- "
"Are you defending her?" she incredulously asked. "How can you do that after the things she said to you? After the way she threw your father's death in your face without any regard to how it would make you feel?"
"I'm not defending her," he firmly replied, "and this isn't about me. This is about you and her, and I told you that I didn't want to stand in the way of your relationship with her."
"Which was incredibly selfless of you, Vaughn, and I appreciate that more than you know," she sighed as she pulled him closer to her and wrapped her arms around his neck. "But you can't expect me not to be angered or affected by the things that she said to you. She hurt you, Vaughn, and that hurt me. Maybe I'll get over it one day, maybe I won't, but don't ask me not to take it personally, because I do. No matter what her reasons were for saying those things to you, no one with common decency would have done that."
"Syd, you know that I'm not trying to tell you how to feel about her or what she said to me. I just want to make sure that you know that you don't have to prove your loyalty to me. I can handle your relationship with her, I promise."
"I know that, even though I don't understand how. But I'm not avoiding her for your sake, I'm avoiding her for mine, because really, I just can't deal with her now. If I had seen or talked to her recently, I don't think I could have controlled the things that I said to her, and who knows what kind of repercussions that might have had on her agreement with the CIA."
"Please tell me that your mother's cooperation with the CIA isn't your primary concern here," Vaughn scoffed.
"Why are you laughing? I *should* be concerned about that," she argued.
"Well yeah, of course you should," he conceded, "but Sydney, we're talking about your life, not your job. What you want is more important than whatever the CIA wants."
"Realllly? Well, I'll let *you* be the one to explain that to Kendall," she wryly smiled. "And for the immediate future, as far as my mother is concerned, her cooperation with the CIA *is* my primary concern -- at least until Sloane is either rotting in a cell or dead. For now, I need to keep the peace with her, which is why I've stayed away."
"And you know what? I really don't want to talk about her anymore and I'm starving. So, what does a girl have to do to get an omelet around this place?"
"That depends. What are you willing to do?" Vaughn asked with a suggestively raised eyebrow.
"I'm willing to . . . set the table," Sydney laughed as she kissed his nose and hopped down off of the counter.
*****
"Do you really have to go?" Vaughn forlornly asked as Sydney finished buttoning her shirt from the night before,
"I don't want to, but yes, I have to go. Francie's probably freaking out because I didn't come home last night, and I've probably already pressed my luck by being here for as long as I have. If I could, I would stay for the whole weekend," she sighed as she sat down next to him on his bed.
"You know you're gonna break Donovan's heart when you leave," he smiled.
"Then maybe I'll take him with me. You wouldn't mind that, would you?" she innocently asked.
"Hey, if I don't get to be with you, neither does he. I was just trying to guilt you into staying."
"Yeah, I picked up on that," she laughed as she stood up and pulled him up with her. "You know, one day I'm going to come here and never leave, and you're going to long for the days when you had the place all to yourself."
"That'll never happen," he promised as he followed her down the hallway. When they reached the front door, they quietly stood and regarded each other, both knowing that she needed to go, but neither of them willing to be the first to say goodbye. After a few minutes, Vaughn finally spoke again, breaking the comfortable silence that had descended over them.
"I know that asking you to come here last night was a crazy idea, but it was worth it just to wake up next to you this morning."
"It was crazy, but I don't regret it. I'm just glad that we made up -- several times," she smilingly added.
"Yeah, I think we made up for about *five* fights," he laughed. "Just remember that the next time I piss you off."
"And pass up the chance to make up all over again? Never." She stepped closer to him and hugged him, wrapping him in a tight embrace as she buried her face into his neck. "Thank you for understanding about Danny, for always understanding me," she whispered. "I love you."
"I love you too," he murmured as he kissed her forehead and nose, then gave her a slow, smoldering goodbye kiss. "I'll see you on Thursday."
"No, call me on Wednesday night when you get back," she pleaded.
"It's going to be really late when I get back," he warned.
"It doesn't matter, just call me. I'll sleep better knowing that you made it back safely."
"Okay, I will. Hey, try not to stay out of trouble while I'm gone," he said, barely trying to suppress a teasing smile.
"Whatever will I do without you here to supervise me? she rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine, I promise. Have a safe trip." With those words and a quick kiss on the cheek, she was gone, leaving him behind to notice how empty and lifeless his place already seemed without her in it.
*****
Sydney had just slipped into a tank top and comfortable sweatpants when she heard the front door of her apartment open. She quickly gathered her wet hair into a bun as she walked out into the living room.
"Hey, Fran!"
"Hi Sydney. Did you have a nice night?" Francie smirked, her eyes twinkling.
"Yeah, it was great," Sydney sheepishly smiled. "Sorry that I forgot to call to tell you that I wouldn't be home."
"It's okay. I figured that you were probably with Michael. You seemed distracted last night before you left, and I assumed it had something to do with him. Is everything okay with him?" she asked with concern.
"Couldn't be better," Sydney assured her.
"Good. That means I won't have to take all of this back," Francie excitedly replied as she emptied the contents of a white plastic bag onto the coffee table.
"What is all of this?"
"Essentials. "Bride's," "Modern Bride," "Los Angeles Bride," "Martha Stewart Living's" wedding issue -- because I know how much you love Martha even if she *is* a criminal -- a wedding planner, and oh, this is for me," she breathlessly concluded as she picked up a copy of "The Bridesmaid's Guerrilla Handbook."
"I'm glad you didn't go overboard with this theme," Sydney laughed.
"Well, we have to start planning. It's time to get your butt in gear, girl. It's been almost two months since you told me that you were engaged, and I haven't seen you look at a single invitation, flower arrangement, or gown. You *are* actually getting married, right?" she teased. "I never even see you wear your ring."
"I'm wearing it right now!" Sydney protested, waving her hand in exasperated amusement. "And yes, I am actually getting married, but I just haven't had much time to think about the wedding, that's all."
"Well, not that I want you to turn into Bridezilla or anything, but it's officially time to start thinking about the wedding Sydney, because I don't want to end up wearing some hideous bridesmaid's dress that's the only thing left in the stores after all of the other brides have already picked over everything. Speaking of which, when is this alleged wedding going to take place?"
"I don't know," Sydney admitted with a slight frown. It suddenly occurred to her that she had been afraid to even begin planning the wedding because of her fear that something would go wrong with the raid on SD-6. She silently cursed Sloane for the fact that she hadn't been able to enjoy being engaged and planning her wedding like most normal brides.
"So you don't even have a date yet?" Francie asked incredulously.
"Things have been up in the air because of work," Sydney lamely explained even though it was the truth. "We've kind of been waiting for things to settle down before we set an actual date, but I imagine we'll do it sometime this fall."
"Okay, well at least fall gives us something to work with. Now we know that we can cross pink, yellow, and lime green off the of the list of potential color schemes," Francie laughed.
"You could have crossed pink and lime green off no matter when I was getting married," Sydney scoffed as she began to flip through the copy of "Bride's." "Ooh, look at this dress," she exclaimed.
"See, now you're getting into the spirit," Francie happily observed. "So are you thinking big wedding, small wedding, formal or informal, inside or outside? Talk to me."
"Well, initially I was thinking big, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe it would be better to have a smaller, more intimate wedding. But on the other hand, Michael has a big family, and I definitely want all of them to be there, so I'm not sure yet, but I'm dying to see him in a tux, so definitely formal," she laughed.
"Definitely," Francie agreed. "So are the two of you still going to live in L.A. once you get married? And do you want kids? And -- "
"Hey, take a breath every once in a while, okay?" Sydney giggled. "Yes and yes. You're just full of questions today, aren't you?"
"Sorry," she sheepishly replied. "It's just that the only thing I really know about this guy is that you're going to marry him, so I'm just curious about him. So, is the sex good?" she asked with a mischievous grin.
"Francie! I can't believe you just asked me that," Sydney blushed.
"Since when? We've always dished the dirt about sex. But if you're too shy to talk about it now, that probably means it's damned good."
"I'll never tell," Sydney evasively smiled.
"You don't have to -- the look on your face says everything," Francie laughed. "Hey, what do you think about this dress?"
Sydney scrunched up her nose and shook her head no as she glanced at Francie's magazine. "I don't think I want to wear red at my wedding."
"Not for you, silly! For me. I kind of like it, but it doesn't have to be in red. Just as long as it's not in purple. You're not going to have a purple wedding, are you?"
Sydney laughed, well aware of her best friend's hatred of the color purple. "No purple, I promise. But I haven't ruled out orange yet."
Francie looked at Sydney in wide-eyed horror.
"What? Orange is a fall color," Sydney protested.
"Well, so is brown, but it's not a *wedding* color," Francie said distastefully. "I really hope that you're not -- wait, you were joking, weren't you?"
"Yeah," Sydney smirked.
"I hate you," Francie laughed as she tossed a pillow at Sydney. "I'm really going to miss this once you're gone, you know. In less than six months, you're going to be married, and I'm going to be here all alone," she said with a heavy, exaggerated sigh.
"Oh, come on. One day you're going to meet a really great guy too."
"Yeah, I can dream anyway. Hey, maybe Michael has some friends that he can introduce me to."
"Well actually, he does have this one friend, Craig, who's really hot. You'd probably like him."
"You think so? What does he do?"
"He works for the CIA."
"The CIA?" Francie made a face. "How hot could he possibly be if works for the CIA? I mean, really, Syd. Don't let a Colin Farrell movie trick you into believing that the CIA is full of hot guys."
"Okay, whatever you say, Francie," Sydney smiled. She wouldn't exactly say that the CIA was *full* of hot guys, but it certainly had it's fair share, as she could attest.
"I wouldn't mind meeting Craig, though," Francie offered. "You know, just in case you want to arrange for us to unexpectedly run into each other one day."
"Fran, you're crazy," Sydney laughed.
"I know. That's why you love me," she grinned.
*****
Sydney sat at her desk on Monday afternoon and glanced at her watch for the fifth time that hour, knowing that Vaughn was scheduled to arrive in Washington a couple of hours ago. She had missed him ever since she said goodbye to him on Saturday, and she already couldn't wait until he was back in L.A. There was so much that she wanted to talk to him about after spending the weekend making preliminary wedding plans with Francie.
Even though it had long since sunk in that she was getting married, the past weekend had really been the first time it had sunk in that she was going to have a *wedding,* and she had been surprised to realize just how excited she was about planning it. Danny had been killed so soon after their engagement that she hadn't had time to start planning anything, and as she remembered that, she vowed to let herself fully enjoy the experience of planning her wedding to Vaughn.
She was already imagining Vaughn in a tuxedo when the buzzer on her phone jolted her out of her reverie.
"This is Agent Bristow."
"Sydney, can you come to my office, please? I have something that I'd like to speak to you about before you leave for the evening."
"Sure, I'll be right in," she smoothly replied, although she was once again cursing Sloane for being the omnipresent black cloud hanging over her life. She soothed herself with the knowledge that in a little more than two weeks, neither Sloane nor the Alliance would ever again be in the position to control any aspect of her life.
"Good evening, sir," she said as she entered his office.
"Good evening, Sydney. Don't bother to sit, this won't take long. I just needed to inform you that I have an assignment for you. The details of your mission are inside this briefcase," he said, handing her a steel case with a digital lock, "and they're quite sensitive, which is why I'd prefer it if you didn't discuss this with anyone else. Not Dixon, not your father, no one, Sydney. This is crucially important," he solemnly stated.
"Of course," Sydney nodded, wondering what could possibly be so classified about this mission.
"The briefcase is digitally locked and it's set on a timer. At seven o'clock, the lock will open, giving you access to the contents inside. Don't attempt to open the briefcase before that time, Sydney," he admonished.
"I won't," she assured him. "Is there a reason why all of this is so top secret?"
"Yes, but that will become clear to you later when the time comes. Don't worry, Sydney, you'll be fine. That's all," he cooly dismissed her.
"Okay, thank you sir." She picked up the briefcase and quickly exited his office, trying to ignore the ominous warning bells that had been set off by Sloane's odd behavior.
*****
"Thanks for dinner, Michael," Elise smiled as she and Vaughn drove away from their favorite Italian restaurant and headed back to her house.
"You don't have to thank me. I was just looking for an excuse to go to Gianni's."
"I should have known. I swear, we must have eaten there once a week while you were at Langley," she laughed. "It's almost as bad as that place you like so much in Rome. What's that one called again?"
"Trattoria di Nardi," he smiled.
"That's right, how could I forget?" she rolled her eyes. "Have you ever taken Sydney there?"
"Not yet, but I told her that I would the next time we're in Rome."
"The next time you're in Rome," Elise shook her head. "You know, your life with Sydney will never be boring, what with all the globetrotting and espionage in the background. I just hope it won't be too terribly boring for the two of you when you're at home alone on a typical Sunday afternoon with nowhere to jet off to."
"No chance of that," Vaughn smiled. "Actually, we both love it when we can just relax like normal people."
"Speaking of which, I was surprised to learn that Sydney was at your place when I called on Saturday. Was it safe for her to be there?" she asked with a concerned frown.
"Not really, but there were extenuating circumstances the night before."
"Oh. Well, in any case, I'm glad that you're getting to spend at least a little time together. I just hope that love isn't blinding the two of you to the realities of your lives and the danger of what could happen if you get caught together."
"It's not, mom, I promise. We're being careful," he smiled reassuringly.
As they continued down the dark two-lane highway back to McLean and chatted about Elise's upcoming trip to Marseilles, Vaughn never noticed the car speeding down the highway behind them with its lights turned off until it was too late. The car rammed into the back of his car and sent it hurling into the wooded area along the side of the road. As the car smashed into a tree, the last sounds Vaughn heard were his mother's blood-curdling scream, the ear-splitting shattering of glass, and the sickeningly loud groan of metal twisting as he and Elise became encased in a steel tomb.
After that, everything turned black until the black was replaced with a blinding shade of white.
*****
Sydney pressed the end button on her cell phone and tossed it onto her night stand with a frustrated sigh. She had been trying to call Vaughn for the past hour, but wasn't getting any answer. She knew that his flight had arrived safely, but she was starting to worry nevertheless, knowing that Vaughn never turned his phone off or went anywhere without it. She shook her head and walked into the kitchen to get a bottle of water, trying to convince herself that there was probably a very simple explanation for her inability to get in touch with him.
When she walked back into her room and saw that it was a few minutes after seven, she picked up the briefcase Sloane had given her and set it on her bed before pressing the button to unlock it. She hoped that whatever was inside would provide at least a temporary distraction from her growing worries about Vaughn. She was surprised, however, when she found nothing inside the briefcase but a large, stark white envelope, which she quickly picked up and opened it. When she removed the contents and began to study them, her blood ran cold and her heartbeat raced as she began to sweat, hardly believing what she was seeing.
Her hands shook almost violently as she held four pieces of glossy paper in her hand. There, immortalized for all the world -- and Sloane -- to see, were the grainy but unmistakable images of her and Vaughn locked in an intimate embrace at the pier a few nights before.
TBC . . .
Chapter 34: "The Best Laid Plans"
Sydney stretched luxuriously as the rays of early morning sunlight streamed in through the windows in Vaughn's room on Saturday morning. She couldn't remember the last time that she had slept so well, but she suspected that it must have been in Santa Monica, the last time she woke up in a bed next to Vaughn. She yawned and opened her eyes, expecting to see Vaughn laying next to her, but his side of the bed was completely empty.
She assumed that he had taken Donovan for a walk until she looked down at the floor next to her side of the bed and saw the little dog looking up at her expectantly. She smiled, remembering the way that she'd woken up to find him laying on the floor next to her each morning while she was in Virginia. She reached down to pet him briefly before reluctantly leaving the warmth of Vaughn's bed. She quickly grabbed one of his white dress shirts that was laying across a chair in the corner of the room and padded out into the hallway, with Donovan trotting along behind her.
"Vaughn?" she sleepily called out.
"I'm in the kitchen."
Sydney entered the kitchen to see Vaughn beating eggs as a colorful display of chopped vegetables, diced ham, and grated cheese covered half of the countertop.
"Hey," he smiled over his shoulder as she walked toward him.
She wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and kissed his cheek. "Hi. Why didn't you wake me up sooner?"
"You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to. Besides, it's Saturday. You deserve to sleep late."
"I never sleep late except when I'm with you," she smiled as she hopped up on the counter and watched him continue to beat the eggs. "I didn't know you could cook."
"I can't," he laughed. "I can make omelettes and spaghetti, and that's about the extent of my culinary skills. Why do you think I know so many good restaurants? It's because I never cook."
"Ah, the truth comes out. You didn't have to make breakfast for me, though, if you never cook."
"I wanted to. It's no big deal," he shrugged.
"No, I mean, really, you shouldn't have. Is it going to be edible?" she teased.
"Not after a put the cyanide in," he shot back. "Relax. I may not be able to boil water, but I can make a champion omelet."
"Then I can't wait to taste it," she smiled. "Are you going to make me breakfast every morning once we're married?" she grinned.
"I'll do whatever you want after we're married."
"Do you have a pen and some paper so I can record the exact date and time at which you made that promise?"
"No, I sure don't," he laughed. They grinned stupidly at each other for a few moments until they were interrupted by the shrill ring of the telephone.
"Hello?" Vaughn asked as he picked up the cordless phone. "Hey! I was going to call you later this afternoon. How was New York? Yeah? You'll have to tell me all about it over dinner. I know, I am too."
Sydney listened and watched with interest as Vaughn carried on his conversation with a wide smile on his face. As she watched him cross over to the refrigerator, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt, she realized how wonderfully, blessedly normal it felt to be at home with him on a Saturday morning. Even though she'd been at his place for less than twenty-four hours, she already felt like it was home, and she couldn't wait to share more mornings like this with him.
"Hey, I have a surprise for you, okay? Hang on just a second."
Sydney looked at him curiously as he smiled and held the phone out to her.
"No one's supposed to know I'm here," she whispered, holding her hand over the receiver.
"It's fine. Trust me."
She rolled her eyes as she apprehensively answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Sydney? Well, this is a surprise. I didn't know that you would be there with Michael."
"Elise!" Sydney cried in delight. "How are you?
"I'm wonderful, dear. How are you doing?" Elise warmly asked.
"I'm good. Really good, actually," she smiled at Vaughn as he beamed back at her.
"Is Michael taking good care of you?"
"Of course. He's the best, but you already know that. You must be excited to see him again on Monday."
"I am, but it's such a short visit that I'll probably end up seeing him only long enough to have dinner. Michael is insisting that I come to Los Angeles in July, though, so hopefully I'll get to spend more time with him then, and with you as well."
"I would love that. I can't wait to see you again."
"I'm looking forward to it as well. Listen, I'm about to drive through a tunnel, so I need to hang up, but please tell Michael that I'll pick him up from the airport on Monday afternoon."
"Okay, I will. Take care, Elise."
"You too, Sydney. Au revoir."
"Your mom's so cute," Sydney smiled as she disconnected the call and handed the phone back to Vaughn. "She said to tell you that she'll pick you up from the airport on Monday. Why were you smiling so much while we were talking?"
"Just because," he smiled. "The two of you are my favorite women, that's all. And, uh, speaking of mothers," Vaughn hesitantly began, "have you talked to yours lately?"
"No," Sydney said in surprise. "Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering. You haven't mentioned her in the last few weeks."
"I haven't had anything to say about her," she shrugged. "I don't really have anything to say *to* her either."
"Why not?"
"Why would I?"
"Because she's your mother?" Vaughn offered.
"That's not a good enough reason," she sourly replied. "You know, you're the *last* person I'd expect to sound surprised and disappointed that I haven't spoken with my mother recently."
"I never said I was disappointed, but I am surprised. Why haven't you talked to her?" he gently asked as he stepped away from the stove and stood in front of her.
"Why do you think?" she pointedly asked.
"Syd," he sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. "This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. This is why I wasn't going to tell you about the things that she said to me."
"But you did, because I asked you to. And I'm glad that you told me, because if you hadn't, I wouldn't know just what kind of person she is -- not that it should have come as a shock to me," she bitterly added.
"Syd, you still don't know what kind of person she is, because you -- "
"Are you defending her?" she incredulously asked. "How can you do that after the things she said to you? After the way she threw your father's death in your face without any regard to how it would make you feel?"
"I'm not defending her," he firmly replied, "and this isn't about me. This is about you and her, and I told you that I didn't want to stand in the way of your relationship with her."
"Which was incredibly selfless of you, Vaughn, and I appreciate that more than you know," she sighed as she pulled him closer to her and wrapped her arms around his neck. "But you can't expect me not to be angered or affected by the things that she said to you. She hurt you, Vaughn, and that hurt me. Maybe I'll get over it one day, maybe I won't, but don't ask me not to take it personally, because I do. No matter what her reasons were for saying those things to you, no one with common decency would have done that."
"Syd, you know that I'm not trying to tell you how to feel about her or what she said to me. I just want to make sure that you know that you don't have to prove your loyalty to me. I can handle your relationship with her, I promise."
"I know that, even though I don't understand how. But I'm not avoiding her for your sake, I'm avoiding her for mine, because really, I just can't deal with her now. If I had seen or talked to her recently, I don't think I could have controlled the things that I said to her, and who knows what kind of repercussions that might have had on her agreement with the CIA."
"Please tell me that your mother's cooperation with the CIA isn't your primary concern here," Vaughn scoffed.
"Why are you laughing? I *should* be concerned about that," she argued.
"Well yeah, of course you should," he conceded, "but Sydney, we're talking about your life, not your job. What you want is more important than whatever the CIA wants."
"Realllly? Well, I'll let *you* be the one to explain that to Kendall," she wryly smiled. "And for the immediate future, as far as my mother is concerned, her cooperation with the CIA *is* my primary concern -- at least until Sloane is either rotting in a cell or dead. For now, I need to keep the peace with her, which is why I've stayed away."
"And you know what? I really don't want to talk about her anymore and I'm starving. So, what does a girl have to do to get an omelet around this place?"
"That depends. What are you willing to do?" Vaughn asked with a suggestively raised eyebrow.
"I'm willing to . . . set the table," Sydney laughed as she kissed his nose and hopped down off of the counter.
*****
"Do you really have to go?" Vaughn forlornly asked as Sydney finished buttoning her shirt from the night before,
"I don't want to, but yes, I have to go. Francie's probably freaking out because I didn't come home last night, and I've probably already pressed my luck by being here for as long as I have. If I could, I would stay for the whole weekend," she sighed as she sat down next to him on his bed.
"You know you're gonna break Donovan's heart when you leave," he smiled.
"Then maybe I'll take him with me. You wouldn't mind that, would you?" she innocently asked.
"Hey, if I don't get to be with you, neither does he. I was just trying to guilt you into staying."
"Yeah, I picked up on that," she laughed as she stood up and pulled him up with her. "You know, one day I'm going to come here and never leave, and you're going to long for the days when you had the place all to yourself."
"That'll never happen," he promised as he followed her down the hallway. When they reached the front door, they quietly stood and regarded each other, both knowing that she needed to go, but neither of them willing to be the first to say goodbye. After a few minutes, Vaughn finally spoke again, breaking the comfortable silence that had descended over them.
"I know that asking you to come here last night was a crazy idea, but it was worth it just to wake up next to you this morning."
"It was crazy, but I don't regret it. I'm just glad that we made up -- several times," she smilingly added.
"Yeah, I think we made up for about *five* fights," he laughed. "Just remember that the next time I piss you off."
"And pass up the chance to make up all over again? Never." She stepped closer to him and hugged him, wrapping him in a tight embrace as she buried her face into his neck. "Thank you for understanding about Danny, for always understanding me," she whispered. "I love you."
"I love you too," he murmured as he kissed her forehead and nose, then gave her a slow, smoldering goodbye kiss. "I'll see you on Thursday."
"No, call me on Wednesday night when you get back," she pleaded.
"It's going to be really late when I get back," he warned.
"It doesn't matter, just call me. I'll sleep better knowing that you made it back safely."
"Okay, I will. Hey, try not to stay out of trouble while I'm gone," he said, barely trying to suppress a teasing smile.
"Whatever will I do without you here to supervise me? she rolled her eyes. "I'll be fine, I promise. Have a safe trip." With those words and a quick kiss on the cheek, she was gone, leaving him behind to notice how empty and lifeless his place already seemed without her in it.
*****
Sydney had just slipped into a tank top and comfortable sweatpants when she heard the front door of her apartment open. She quickly gathered her wet hair into a bun as she walked out into the living room.
"Hey, Fran!"
"Hi Sydney. Did you have a nice night?" Francie smirked, her eyes twinkling.
"Yeah, it was great," Sydney sheepishly smiled. "Sorry that I forgot to call to tell you that I wouldn't be home."
"It's okay. I figured that you were probably with Michael. You seemed distracted last night before you left, and I assumed it had something to do with him. Is everything okay with him?" she asked with concern.
"Couldn't be better," Sydney assured her.
"Good. That means I won't have to take all of this back," Francie excitedly replied as she emptied the contents of a white plastic bag onto the coffee table.
"What is all of this?"
"Essentials. "Bride's," "Modern Bride," "Los Angeles Bride," "Martha Stewart Living's" wedding issue -- because I know how much you love Martha even if she *is* a criminal -- a wedding planner, and oh, this is for me," she breathlessly concluded as she picked up a copy of "The Bridesmaid's Guerrilla Handbook."
"I'm glad you didn't go overboard with this theme," Sydney laughed.
"Well, we have to start planning. It's time to get your butt in gear, girl. It's been almost two months since you told me that you were engaged, and I haven't seen you look at a single invitation, flower arrangement, or gown. You *are* actually getting married, right?" she teased. "I never even see you wear your ring."
"I'm wearing it right now!" Sydney protested, waving her hand in exasperated amusement. "And yes, I am actually getting married, but I just haven't had much time to think about the wedding, that's all."
"Well, not that I want you to turn into Bridezilla or anything, but it's officially time to start thinking about the wedding Sydney, because I don't want to end up wearing some hideous bridesmaid's dress that's the only thing left in the stores after all of the other brides have already picked over everything. Speaking of which, when is this alleged wedding going to take place?"
"I don't know," Sydney admitted with a slight frown. It suddenly occurred to her that she had been afraid to even begin planning the wedding because of her fear that something would go wrong with the raid on SD-6. She silently cursed Sloane for the fact that she hadn't been able to enjoy being engaged and planning her wedding like most normal brides.
"So you don't even have a date yet?" Francie asked incredulously.
"Things have been up in the air because of work," Sydney lamely explained even though it was the truth. "We've kind of been waiting for things to settle down before we set an actual date, but I imagine we'll do it sometime this fall."
"Okay, well at least fall gives us something to work with. Now we know that we can cross pink, yellow, and lime green off the of the list of potential color schemes," Francie laughed.
"You could have crossed pink and lime green off no matter when I was getting married," Sydney scoffed as she began to flip through the copy of "Bride's." "Ooh, look at this dress," she exclaimed.
"See, now you're getting into the spirit," Francie happily observed. "So are you thinking big wedding, small wedding, formal or informal, inside or outside? Talk to me."
"Well, initially I was thinking big, but now I'm not so sure. Maybe it would be better to have a smaller, more intimate wedding. But on the other hand, Michael has a big family, and I definitely want all of them to be there, so I'm not sure yet, but I'm dying to see him in a tux, so definitely formal," she laughed.
"Definitely," Francie agreed. "So are the two of you still going to live in L.A. once you get married? And do you want kids? And -- "
"Hey, take a breath every once in a while, okay?" Sydney giggled. "Yes and yes. You're just full of questions today, aren't you?"
"Sorry," she sheepishly replied. "It's just that the only thing I really know about this guy is that you're going to marry him, so I'm just curious about him. So, is the sex good?" she asked with a mischievous grin.
"Francie! I can't believe you just asked me that," Sydney blushed.
"Since when? We've always dished the dirt about sex. But if you're too shy to talk about it now, that probably means it's damned good."
"I'll never tell," Sydney evasively smiled.
"You don't have to -- the look on your face says everything," Francie laughed. "Hey, what do you think about this dress?"
Sydney scrunched up her nose and shook her head no as she glanced at Francie's magazine. "I don't think I want to wear red at my wedding."
"Not for you, silly! For me. I kind of like it, but it doesn't have to be in red. Just as long as it's not in purple. You're not going to have a purple wedding, are you?"
Sydney laughed, well aware of her best friend's hatred of the color purple. "No purple, I promise. But I haven't ruled out orange yet."
Francie looked at Sydney in wide-eyed horror.
"What? Orange is a fall color," Sydney protested.
"Well, so is brown, but it's not a *wedding* color," Francie said distastefully. "I really hope that you're not -- wait, you were joking, weren't you?"
"Yeah," Sydney smirked.
"I hate you," Francie laughed as she tossed a pillow at Sydney. "I'm really going to miss this once you're gone, you know. In less than six months, you're going to be married, and I'm going to be here all alone," she said with a heavy, exaggerated sigh.
"Oh, come on. One day you're going to meet a really great guy too."
"Yeah, I can dream anyway. Hey, maybe Michael has some friends that he can introduce me to."
"Well actually, he does have this one friend, Craig, who's really hot. You'd probably like him."
"You think so? What does he do?"
"He works for the CIA."
"The CIA?" Francie made a face. "How hot could he possibly be if works for the CIA? I mean, really, Syd. Don't let a Colin Farrell movie trick you into believing that the CIA is full of hot guys."
"Okay, whatever you say, Francie," Sydney smiled. She wouldn't exactly say that the CIA was *full* of hot guys, but it certainly had it's fair share, as she could attest.
"I wouldn't mind meeting Craig, though," Francie offered. "You know, just in case you want to arrange for us to unexpectedly run into each other one day."
"Fran, you're crazy," Sydney laughed.
"I know. That's why you love me," she grinned.
*****
Sydney sat at her desk on Monday afternoon and glanced at her watch for the fifth time that hour, knowing that Vaughn was scheduled to arrive in Washington a couple of hours ago. She had missed him ever since she said goodbye to him on Saturday, and she already couldn't wait until he was back in L.A. There was so much that she wanted to talk to him about after spending the weekend making preliminary wedding plans with Francie.
Even though it had long since sunk in that she was getting married, the past weekend had really been the first time it had sunk in that she was going to have a *wedding,* and she had been surprised to realize just how excited she was about planning it. Danny had been killed so soon after their engagement that she hadn't had time to start planning anything, and as she remembered that, she vowed to let herself fully enjoy the experience of planning her wedding to Vaughn.
She was already imagining Vaughn in a tuxedo when the buzzer on her phone jolted her out of her reverie.
"This is Agent Bristow."
"Sydney, can you come to my office, please? I have something that I'd like to speak to you about before you leave for the evening."
"Sure, I'll be right in," she smoothly replied, although she was once again cursing Sloane for being the omnipresent black cloud hanging over her life. She soothed herself with the knowledge that in a little more than two weeks, neither Sloane nor the Alliance would ever again be in the position to control any aspect of her life.
"Good evening, sir," she said as she entered his office.
"Good evening, Sydney. Don't bother to sit, this won't take long. I just needed to inform you that I have an assignment for you. The details of your mission are inside this briefcase," he said, handing her a steel case with a digital lock, "and they're quite sensitive, which is why I'd prefer it if you didn't discuss this with anyone else. Not Dixon, not your father, no one, Sydney. This is crucially important," he solemnly stated.
"Of course," Sydney nodded, wondering what could possibly be so classified about this mission.
"The briefcase is digitally locked and it's set on a timer. At seven o'clock, the lock will open, giving you access to the contents inside. Don't attempt to open the briefcase before that time, Sydney," he admonished.
"I won't," she assured him. "Is there a reason why all of this is so top secret?"
"Yes, but that will become clear to you later when the time comes. Don't worry, Sydney, you'll be fine. That's all," he cooly dismissed her.
"Okay, thank you sir." She picked up the briefcase and quickly exited his office, trying to ignore the ominous warning bells that had been set off by Sloane's odd behavior.
*****
"Thanks for dinner, Michael," Elise smiled as she and Vaughn drove away from their favorite Italian restaurant and headed back to her house.
"You don't have to thank me. I was just looking for an excuse to go to Gianni's."
"I should have known. I swear, we must have eaten there once a week while you were at Langley," she laughed. "It's almost as bad as that place you like so much in Rome. What's that one called again?"
"Trattoria di Nardi," he smiled.
"That's right, how could I forget?" she rolled her eyes. "Have you ever taken Sydney there?"
"Not yet, but I told her that I would the next time we're in Rome."
"The next time you're in Rome," Elise shook her head. "You know, your life with Sydney will never be boring, what with all the globetrotting and espionage in the background. I just hope it won't be too terribly boring for the two of you when you're at home alone on a typical Sunday afternoon with nowhere to jet off to."
"No chance of that," Vaughn smiled. "Actually, we both love it when we can just relax like normal people."
"Speaking of which, I was surprised to learn that Sydney was at your place when I called on Saturday. Was it safe for her to be there?" she asked with a concerned frown.
"Not really, but there were extenuating circumstances the night before."
"Oh. Well, in any case, I'm glad that you're getting to spend at least a little time together. I just hope that love isn't blinding the two of you to the realities of your lives and the danger of what could happen if you get caught together."
"It's not, mom, I promise. We're being careful," he smiled reassuringly.
As they continued down the dark two-lane highway back to McLean and chatted about Elise's upcoming trip to Marseilles, Vaughn never noticed the car speeding down the highway behind them with its lights turned off until it was too late. The car rammed into the back of his car and sent it hurling into the wooded area along the side of the road. As the car smashed into a tree, the last sounds Vaughn heard were his mother's blood-curdling scream, the ear-splitting shattering of glass, and the sickeningly loud groan of metal twisting as he and Elise became encased in a steel tomb.
After that, everything turned black until the black was replaced with a blinding shade of white.
*****
Sydney pressed the end button on her cell phone and tossed it onto her night stand with a frustrated sigh. She had been trying to call Vaughn for the past hour, but wasn't getting any answer. She knew that his flight had arrived safely, but she was starting to worry nevertheless, knowing that Vaughn never turned his phone off or went anywhere without it. She shook her head and walked into the kitchen to get a bottle of water, trying to convince herself that there was probably a very simple explanation for her inability to get in touch with him.
When she walked back into her room and saw that it was a few minutes after seven, she picked up the briefcase Sloane had given her and set it on her bed before pressing the button to unlock it. She hoped that whatever was inside would provide at least a temporary distraction from her growing worries about Vaughn. She was surprised, however, when she found nothing inside the briefcase but a large, stark white envelope, which she quickly picked up and opened it. When she removed the contents and began to study them, her blood ran cold and her heartbeat raced as she began to sweat, hardly believing what she was seeing.
Her hands shook almost violently as she held four pieces of glossy paper in her hand. There, immortalized for all the world -- and Sloane -- to see, were the grainy but unmistakable images of her and Vaughn locked in an intimate embrace at the pier a few nights before.
TBC . . .