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Chapter Three:

Shrouded In Silence

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The early morning light seeped in through the haze of sleep, illuminating her dreams with an eerie clarity she had never known before. In this realm of unconsciousness, between dreaming and waking life, her mind drifted past all barriers and memory.

He was standing before her, blood staining his flesh, eyes dark with agony as he gazed at her. The expression on his face was cold, emotionless, detached from the world inside of him. But his eyes, they showed the true depth of emotion lost in a swirling green pool. She wondered if anyone else could see it, her father, his new partner, the men he was fooling so well. But she could see it as clear as anything else in the world and she knew what it meant.

He stretched his hand out to her, the gentle fingers that stroked her back when she was in pain were stained with blood. She wondered how much of it was his own, a jolt of fear shot through her at the thought. His lips were forming words that she could not hear but she could recognize the shape of her name forming.

"Julia," he breathed. "Remember who you are, who I am. What we were to one another." His eyes were pleading with her, "Don't you know me, Sydney?"

She stared at him in shock, the sound of her name on his lips was the most blessed noise she had ever heard. But the way he spoke it, so filled with despair. She tried to reach out to him but her hands were stained with blood, their skin could not connect beneath the filth of the lies and deceit. She struggled to hold onto him but she was falling, his voice whispered in her ears.

"Sydney...Sydney. Sydney!"

Her eyes snapped open, clashing instantly with the same familiar green eyes of her dream. She stared into them in wonder, she could see the same despair that had been so prevalent in her dream hidden deep in the depths now. She stared at him, wondering what it meant.

He was kneeling on the floor of the plane before her, she realized that they were no longer in the air. They had most likely just landed, the early colors of the twilight were just beginning to filter down from above. His hand was on her knee and she looked down at it, feeling the heat of his palm send a rush of warmth through her skin. He had been reaching out for her, but there was no blood on his hands now.

Noticing the shift of her gaze, Vaughn drew his hand away slowly. The slow way his palm dragged over her thigh was like a caress and she shuddered slightly, the physical pleasure mixing with her inner pain.

"We're here?" It was not really necessary for her to ask but she needed to speak, to distract them both from the attraction that seemed to consume them both. To distract her from the disturbing dreams that troubled her mind.

Vaughn nodded slightly and backed away from her, how he managed to avert his eyes and yet continue to stare at her she would never know. It was a trick he had managed to achieve when they had been in the earliest stages of relationship. When they had been just handler and asset, never able to look at one another except in stolen glances. He had perfected the art of looking at her in secrecy but she had long ago learned to recognize when he was doing so.

There had been a time when they had no longer needed to know that technique, both had given it up gladly and now it seemed they were back to square one. The irony was that their relationship had somehow been simpler then. When they could have both been killed at any minute by Sloane and the Alliance, now they were simply killing themselves very slowly by denying what they both hungered for with all of their souls.

Vaughn dropped a small bag on the seat beside her and for the first time she really looked at him, as he was in this moment, not in her memory or in her dreams. She hadn't noticed that he had been in disguise and she suppressed the sudden urge to laugh. His hair was combed down, parted in the middle. She didn't even know that his hair could manage a straight line going through it, she had thought it was perpetually sticking upright and had preferred it that way as well. He slid on a pair of thick black glasses and was wearing nondescript clothes.

"Your disguise, it was all I could find but it should work," he gestured at the bag and Sydney nodded, hiding a small smile. Rummaging through the bag, she withdrew a long red-haired wig, she was relieved that the color was at least a believable shade of red. It seemed every time she was a redhead, it was some shade of neon red never found in nature. Inspecting the wig, she nodded in approval and looked up at Vaughn.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice still raspy from sleep. He shrugged and looked at his watch. "Our car will be here in ten minutes."

He watched her momentarily as Sydney pulled her disguise from the bag and then without another word, walked silently back down the corridor, allowing her some privacy. She smiled softly and watched him go, but her mind kept seeing his face stained with blood and tears. He had been trying to tell her something, it had been so real. His hand slipping from hers, the blood that stained them both. It might have been her unconscious mind trying to tell her something about her relationship with Vaughn but she felt that it was not nearly that simple. There was too much that she was missing, too much she didn't know.

From the end of the hallway, Vaughn watched her with intensity. There had been something in her eyes, something he recognized. There was too much to be done and he could no longer bear this silence he carried with him like a shroud of mourning. The silence was his shroud for Sydney, it was time for it to be discarded.

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"This is it," Sydney breathed the words, lost on the wind to anyone but the man beside her, who was watching her intently. She was aware of his eyes on her but she could not face him, could only stare at the numbers on the door before her. They gleamed with a dull sheen in the dim hallway light and Vaughn fidgeted nervously beside her, eyes sweeping up and down the empty hallway for anyone who might spot them.

They were heavily disguised, a precaution Vaughn had made sure to take now that they were running from their own government. However there was still always a chance that they had been spotted and it was growing more and more likely with every moment they lingered. The long red hair of Sydney's wig brushed his fingers as he touched her arm in concern, his eyes flickering from the pained confusion evident on her face to the lock on the door where her fingers held the key, trembling, over the lock. Gently, he placed his hand on her own and slid the key into the door, she nodded slightly and recovered herself. Vaughn followed her inside as she automatically held out one hand to flip on the light switch. She paused at her own action and glanced at the switch as if verifying it was there.

Vaughn shut the door softly behind them and she glanced up at him, her eyes wide and sliding from him to the room in a slight bewilderment. Shaking her head, she circled the room, tracing her fingertips along the surface of simple objects. She had obviously lived here and not too long ago, she could recognize the decor as being her taste. It had a cozy feeling to it and standing inside her apartment, she felt somewhat comfortable and yet completely foreign.

Vaughn took a seat at the table, watching her intently as she paced the length of the room. He did not speak and she did not seem to notice him, but they were highly attuned to the presence of the other. He could practically hear her thoughts echoing in his own head. Questions on her lips that one of them had answers to and he was no longer sure which one it was. The sight of her pacing nervously, hands clenched together, knuckles turning white with the force of her own grip, made his heart ache. He watched her and he waited for it to come.

She stopped suddenly and let out a low sigh, scrubbing her hands across her weary eyes and flopping backward onto the bed. When her eyelids fluttered open again, they drifted across the ceiling and then suddenly widened with shock. She sat bolt upright with a horrified gasp and shot away from the bed. Vaughn was waiting for her, standing beside the bed, arms open and waiting for her to dart into them fearfully.

Closing his arms around her gently, he stroked her back and murmured softly. "What is it?"

"I saw it in a dream," Sydney whispered. Regaining her sense of composure, she pulled away from him and lifted her eyes once more to the ceiling. Vaughn followed her gaze to see a stone angel reaching down from another rooftop, easily seen through the glass of the window. He nodded slightly and touched her shoulder gently.

"You remember this place?" He asked, she could hear the concern in his voice. He didn't like this anymore than she did, the way his fingers tensed on her shoulder at the slight trembling of her flesh. She knew that she had to regain control of herself, but she could feel herself slowly unraveling.

She shrugged slightly in answer to his question, "I remember bits of it from dreams, my subconscious remembers habitual things like where the light switch is, the bathroom, the bed."

"You said that you think you left yourself clues from when you were Julia Thorne. Is it possible that you left yourself a clue that you wouldn't remember finding but would find by doing this ritual things?"

Sydney frowned and nodded slowly, "It sounds like something that I would do." She bit her lip in contemplation and crossed the room, Vaughn following her silently as a shadow. Opening another door, she flipped on the light switch with the instinctive ease as she had the first. Vaughn tried to breathe easier but he couldn't, something was lurking in the back of his mind, a sixth sense he had honed over many years that was troubling him.

Sydney opened the cabinet behind the mirror and automatically reached for one of prescription pill bottles within. Holding it up, she could read the name on the label as Julia Thorne.

Frowning slightly, she shut the cabinet door and looked up to see Vaughn's face twist from one of fearful curiosity to a mask of rage. He whirled around behind her and Sydney gasped, unsure of what was happening. Turning quickly, she dropped the pill bottle to the floor and it opened with a small. Small white pills bounced across the tiled floor and a small plastic tube.

Vaughn was grappling with a large man, clothed in black, Sydney recognized the uniform as that of the Italian police force and she cursed under her breath. She snapped herself out of her momentary confusion and took a step forward to help Vaughn. In the length of time it took her to take that step, between the space of a heartbeat and the catching of breath in the throat, Vaughn had somehow twisted out of the man's grasp and pinned him to the floor. Picking up the rifle the other man had dropped, Vaughn struck him swiftly in the head, knocking him unconscious.

Sydney frowned in confusion as Vaughn glanced at her briefly, the scuffle could not have lasted longer than ten seconds. His eyes were veiled by a dark haze, no thought penetrated, nothing but pure instinct. She had seen the same look in her own eyes, reflected in the dying spark of life of men she had killed.

She had seen that look in his eyes only once before, in her dream that morning. She froze and stared at him, her entire body tense. Vaughn glanced at her quickly, reassuring himself that she was okay. Without a word, he spun on his heel, rifle in hand, and sped into the other room.

Sydney snapped into action, everything was backwards, this was not how it was supposed to go. Normally she was the one saving his ass. She let her training take over and forgot all emotion, all other thought but the fact that they were in danger and had to get out.

She was on Vaughn's heels as he slid to a stop in the outer room, the front door banged open and men came pouring through. They were shouting in Italian at them but neither Sydney nor Vaughn paid them any heed. Vaughn's eyes swept over the group only once and then he snapped into action. Leaping forward, he grasped the muzzle of one of the rifles that the men pointed at them and shoved it hard back into the man's chest. Still gripping the muzzle, he twisted around and swung one leg up, kicking the rifle out of the hands of the next assailant and knocking him over. Several of the men went down in a matter of seconds, taken by surprise. With an expert maneuver, Vaughn flipped the rifle over his shoulder and fired at a man who was coming up behind him. Not once did he look to see the man, not even after he had slumped to the floor in silence.

Sydney grasped the rifle of one of the fallen men and let out a spray of bullets across the men. Moans of pain rose to her ears as they dropped to their knees, falling face first to the floor. Vaughn rose up behind each of them that still lived, death blazing in his eyes.

The policemen were accustomed to brute force, not this clever hand to hand combat, reacting sluggishly to Vaughn's actions. He was darting between them swiftly, taking them down with simple maneuvers as Sydney fought off the few who had slipped past him. The gunfire slowed slightly and Sydney leapt up, rolling across the bed to avoid the spray of bullets, firing back at her enemies as she did so.

She felt something strike her hard on the back of the head and she swayed slightly, her eyes landing on the cruel face of one of her assailants. She felt fuzzy and gazed at him weakly, anticipating the surge of adrenaline that would fill her in a matter of seconds and provide her with the strength to get away from him. Those few seconds could be fatal however.

Her eyes slid toward Vaughn and as if he could feel the heat of her gaze on him, he glanced over at her. Their eyes locked, time could have stopped in that instant and neither would have known. They were both fighting men twice their size but at this moment, neither were aware of what precisely they were doing to stay alive, all they knew was each other. She could see a whirlwind inside of him, barely contained beneath the implacable facade that kept him moving, fighting for his life. It was a split second, nothing more, and then the world rushed back into place.

Kicking the man who rose up before him in the face, Vaughn rolled backward onto the bed and landed on the floor behind it in a low crouch. Sydney cried out as the meaty hand of the officer closed around her throat, choking her breath away, the cry died in her throat. Desperately, she kicked outward, her feet catching nothing but air as he twisted away from her legs and then wrapped his arms around them. He held her tightly in a death grip, struggling to force her to her knees as he grappled with the handcuffs at his belt. She twisted in his grasp and her head banged hard against the floor, spots swam in her vision and then everything fell silent. The tension eased from her throat.

Before she could even begin to comprehend what had happened, the gunfire had ceased, the man who stood over jerked in pain. A spray of blood shot from his temple, burning her with its fading heat. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the floor, his heavy body falling over her. He was dead before his head touched the floor.

Sydney gasped and twisted away from him. Standing before her was Vaughn, his gun in hand, the barrel smoking slightly. He was staring into the space where the man had just stood, eyes fixed on nothing. Standing, Sydney wiped the blood from her face and glanced around at the room with wide eyes. The men were all dead, the air had become thick with the silence of death that hovered like a tangible presence in the room. Death had come for these men, Sydney had often been the hand of death in the past, leaving many rooms filled with bodies similar to this in order to survive. But this time was different, this time she had not done it. Death had come for these men, and it came through the hand of Michael Vaughn.

Sydney shivered slightly and wrapped her arms tightly around herself, struggling to avert her eyes from the dead policemen on the floor. Raising her eyes to Vaughn, she watched as he calmly wiped the blood from his gun on the shirt of one of the men and place it back in its holster at his side. At length he lifted his eyes to meet her questioning gaze and she found the cold mask had vanished. His eyes were filled with pain and a deep secret that lingered hidden in the depths. It was a voice begging to be heard, a truth that longed to be revealed.

"Are you okay?" He asked her, his voice was low and husky. Filled not with fear, but concern. Sydney nodded in silence, still too overwhelmed by all that had just happened. Her voice seemed trapped in her throat still, the cry that had been cut off by the man longed to escape. Wind its way into the air, shrill and harsh and filled with fear. She had no idea what had just happened, who Vaughn had become before her unknowing eyes. She felt as if she gazed now on a stranger, but when those pleading eyes turned to her, she saw him once more.

"Vaughn," her voice was nothing more than a whisper, a current moving through the air. "What the hell just happened?"

"Someone must have spotted us between the airport and here, we're going to have to get out of here as soon as we can." Vaughn grimaced and kicked a dead body out of his way, "We'll have to search the apartment quickly, can't afford to leave anything behind." He stepped away, turning his back to her and Sydney shook her head.

"No, Vaughn. What happened with you?" She knew that she had struck a nerve by the way his body immediately went tense. The muscles in his back were rigid with contained pressure and it seemed that he might explode at any moment but from what, she could not know.

"The way you fought those men," she shook her head in disbelief as she looked around the room. "I barely even had a chance to lay a finger on them and I'm a field agent. I was trained at the age of six to know how to fight like this. Where the hell did you learn how to do that?" She felt as if she were shouting in the deathly stillness of the room but could not be sure. Vaughn remained very still, he could have been carved out of marble and moved more than he was at that moment. Very slowly he turned to face her and she was shocked to see tears on his face.

Quickly he crossed the room and pulled her to him, her head colliding softly with his chest. With as much force as he exhibited, the strength in him that scared her a bit since she had no idea where it had come from, he was still as gentle as he had ever been with her.

"I told you Sydney, some things have changed, so many things I need to explain." He pulled away from her and met her eyes, studying her intently. "But now is not the time, we have to get out of here as soon as we can but we can't leave the clues behind."

Sydney stared up at him, fear gnawing a ragged hole in her heart. His hands slipped on her skin, slick with blood, his eyes were filled with a dark agony that she could not place. It was the second time in one day she had seen this darkness in him. There was something he was not telling her, something he feared. He was doing so much to protect her but doing so little to maintain his own well being.

A familiar rush of love washed over her as she stared up at him, easing the claws of fear that had sunk into her heart. She nodded slightly and pulled free from his arms. He was right, he was thinking rationally whereas she felt like she was about to dissolve into tears where she stood. She was never this weak, he was never this strong, something was wrong here. Something within them needed to be balanced very badly and she knew that they could only do that for one another.

Wiping the blood from her hands, she turned away from him and began to search the apartment.

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