Once the plane Jack had commandeered took off, they began to take stock and
attend to their wounds. Fatigue was apparent on all their faces, but, Will,
having received another powerful sedative, was the only one who slept.
Although his face still looked swollen and garish, the painkillers had made
him comfortable, at least for the short term.
Dixon and Jack were remarkably unscathed except for a few minor burns, as was Sydney--barring the puffy, bruised area of her cheek, where a guard had blindsided her with the butt of his gun and the abrasions around her wrists. Vaughn, however, had cracked three ribs which needed bandaging. Fortunately, the plane had often been used on medical runs and had an extremely well stocked first aid kit.
Sydney blushed as she self-consciously helped Vaughn remove the tight black t-shirt he had worn to the club. Although she hadn't wanted to draw attention to her perusal of his chest, she wasn't able to suppress her gasp of dismay at seeing the purple, green, and yellow streaks that mottled the area around his ribs.
Vaughn simply gritted his teeth and silently lifted his arms so that she could wind the bandage around him. Sydney could tell from the way he averted his eyes, though, that he was embarrassed. This was clearly not the physical intimacy either of them had had in mind earlier.
She tried to be as gentle as possible, but despite her attempts, he grunted several times in pain.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she muttered, distractedly, working as fast and as efficiently as she could. "When did this happen? When we were thrown to the ground by the blast? "
Vaughn inhaled sharply, then shook his head. "I think I felt a couple crack when the wave threw me against the door. " He gave her a lop-sided grin. "But, then again, it could have been the guard that was trying to kick the hell out of me before I grabbed his gun. Although, I don't think that last sprint before the warehouse blew helped any. Remind me to renew my membership at the gym and brush up on my combat training when I get home."
Sydney knew he was making light of his injuries for her sake, but it clearly hurt him to breathe. She could hear the raspiness in his lungs and wondered just how much water he had inhaled after the Mueller device exploded. Cracked ribs might not be the worst of his woes.
She gave him a rueful smile as she lowered the t-shirt over his head and smoothed the fabric down around him, careful not to press on the bandages. "I doubt you'll be doing any sparring any time soon. This will take at least five or six weeks to heal--that is if you don't catch pneumonia."
"Great!" he replied, the sarcasm evident in his voice. Then he noticed Sydney hadn't removed her hands from his hips after smoothing out the last fold of the t-shirt.
They stood only inches apart.
It would be so easy to kiss her, Vaughn thought. All he had to do was lean in and he would finally feel her lips pressed against his. How long had he waited for precisely this opportunity? His brow furrowed as he gazed at her.
He had told her he loved her, and he was all but certain now that she cared for him, but that didn't change the circumstances they found themselves in. The fact that he was finding more and more creative justifications for breaking the rules didn't make it any safer for them to do so. Could he really afford to put her life in any more jeopardy than it already was?
The tension between them was palpable. She seemed to be waiting for his move, either unwilling or unable to break the spell that transfixed them on her own.
"Syd--" he said, his voice low and rough with emotion, seeing the sorrow in her eyes at his hesitation.
"Vaughn, don't. Don't say it," she pleaded, putting her fingers to his lips.
She knew the risks. Would one kiss really make such a difference? She tried to deny it, but in her heart, she knew it would change everything. There could never be just one kiss, because one kiss would be followed by another and another and another. But, he had told her he loved her back in the warehouse in Taipei. Could anything ever be the same again?
"Shh, don't cry," he had whispered in French. "Everything's okay. We're together now. I'm right here. Don't cry. I love you."
At first she couldn't believe her ears. Had she heard him correctly? Did he even realize what he'd said? But then he had repeated it with a new sense of resolve in his voice.
"I love you."
At that moment, she had felt everything inside her melt and begin to glow. Dixon had interrupted them before she could reply, but she hoped Vaughn had read her answer in her eyes.
Tears pricked at her eyelids now as she held her fingers to his lips. She looked at him and saw the same anguish she felt reflected in his eyes.
"When?" she asked, brokenly, unable to meet his gaze any longer.
"I don't know," he answered, kissing her fingers, before he lowered them from his lips. "Someday soon--I hope."
Dixon and Jack were remarkably unscathed except for a few minor burns, as was Sydney--barring the puffy, bruised area of her cheek, where a guard had blindsided her with the butt of his gun and the abrasions around her wrists. Vaughn, however, had cracked three ribs which needed bandaging. Fortunately, the plane had often been used on medical runs and had an extremely well stocked first aid kit.
Sydney blushed as she self-consciously helped Vaughn remove the tight black t-shirt he had worn to the club. Although she hadn't wanted to draw attention to her perusal of his chest, she wasn't able to suppress her gasp of dismay at seeing the purple, green, and yellow streaks that mottled the area around his ribs.
Vaughn simply gritted his teeth and silently lifted his arms so that she could wind the bandage around him. Sydney could tell from the way he averted his eyes, though, that he was embarrassed. This was clearly not the physical intimacy either of them had had in mind earlier.
She tried to be as gentle as possible, but despite her attempts, he grunted several times in pain.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she muttered, distractedly, working as fast and as efficiently as she could. "When did this happen? When we were thrown to the ground by the blast? "
Vaughn inhaled sharply, then shook his head. "I think I felt a couple crack when the wave threw me against the door. " He gave her a lop-sided grin. "But, then again, it could have been the guard that was trying to kick the hell out of me before I grabbed his gun. Although, I don't think that last sprint before the warehouse blew helped any. Remind me to renew my membership at the gym and brush up on my combat training when I get home."
Sydney knew he was making light of his injuries for her sake, but it clearly hurt him to breathe. She could hear the raspiness in his lungs and wondered just how much water he had inhaled after the Mueller device exploded. Cracked ribs might not be the worst of his woes.
She gave him a rueful smile as she lowered the t-shirt over his head and smoothed the fabric down around him, careful not to press on the bandages. "I doubt you'll be doing any sparring any time soon. This will take at least five or six weeks to heal--that is if you don't catch pneumonia."
"Great!" he replied, the sarcasm evident in his voice. Then he noticed Sydney hadn't removed her hands from his hips after smoothing out the last fold of the t-shirt.
They stood only inches apart.
It would be so easy to kiss her, Vaughn thought. All he had to do was lean in and he would finally feel her lips pressed against his. How long had he waited for precisely this opportunity? His brow furrowed as he gazed at her.
He had told her he loved her, and he was all but certain now that she cared for him, but that didn't change the circumstances they found themselves in. The fact that he was finding more and more creative justifications for breaking the rules didn't make it any safer for them to do so. Could he really afford to put her life in any more jeopardy than it already was?
The tension between them was palpable. She seemed to be waiting for his move, either unwilling or unable to break the spell that transfixed them on her own.
"Syd--" he said, his voice low and rough with emotion, seeing the sorrow in her eyes at his hesitation.
"Vaughn, don't. Don't say it," she pleaded, putting her fingers to his lips.
She knew the risks. Would one kiss really make such a difference? She tried to deny it, but in her heart, she knew it would change everything. There could never be just one kiss, because one kiss would be followed by another and another and another. But, he had told her he loved her back in the warehouse in Taipei. Could anything ever be the same again?
"Shh, don't cry," he had whispered in French. "Everything's okay. We're together now. I'm right here. Don't cry. I love you."
At first she couldn't believe her ears. Had she heard him correctly? Did he even realize what he'd said? But then he had repeated it with a new sense of resolve in his voice.
"I love you."
At that moment, she had felt everything inside her melt and begin to glow. Dixon had interrupted them before she could reply, but she hoped Vaughn had read her answer in her eyes.
Tears pricked at her eyelids now as she held her fingers to his lips. She looked at him and saw the same anguish she felt reflected in his eyes.
"When?" she asked, brokenly, unable to meet his gaze any longer.
"I don't know," he answered, kissing her fingers, before he lowered them from his lips. "Someday soon--I hope."