Chapter 6
A light breeze ruffled through Sydney's hair, sending the long strands dancing in the air and occasionally whipping into her face. Annoyed, she reached down for the ponytail holder she kept on her wrist, but her hand was stopped mid journey.
"Don't," Vaughn whispered into her ear, entwining his fingers with hers. "I like it down." He leaned back in the sand and pulled Sydney with him. They lay there, hands still clasped, gazing into the cloudless Santa Barbara sky.
She snuggled into him, letting her long brown hair fan out on his chest. Sighing happily, she asked, "Hey...did you ever play that game when you were little?"
"Hm? What game?" His hold tightened as she made herself comfortable.
"You know, where you say what you think the cloud looks like."
"No." He wished for some clouds so that he could play now, however. "I was too busy playing hockey."
She let a lazy smile cross her face. "You can't play hockey all the time, Vaughn. What did you do during the summer?" This was why she really wanted to take this vacation; to learn all the little things they never had time to talk about. His childhood was a blank spot in her history of Michael Vaughn and she was determined to change that.
"During the summer... I went to an overnight camp outside of Paris every year from when I was seven to when I was fourteen," he grinned and added pointedly, "A hockey training camp."
Sydney smiled as her free hand found its way to his hair and began tracing invisible patterns in it. "What did you do there? And don't you dare say 'played hockey.'"
"I made a lot of really good friends... mostly during my first year there, and they became better the next year. They really helped me through a lot of crap that year, as young as we were."
Upon realizing what he must have meant, Sydney gripped his hand tighter. "I'm so sorry, Vaughn."
"I told you not to be sorry for her."
"Vaughn-"
"Sydney." She stopped. He continued. "Sydney, we're not going to talk about this now. We're here to relax and forget the hellish life we lead back home. Please, can we just... forget that stuff now?" Her silence answered him. He leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. "Thanks."
They didn't speak for a few minutes, letting the salty aroma of the ocean fill their senses. Waves lapped the shore softly and left little white trails of seafoam on the darkened sand. Seagulls called out at each other and little children splashed in the water. Sydney's eyes drifted shut, soothed by the soft lullaby of the sea. The plagues of her life were washed away with each crash of water upon the shoreline.
'How,' she thought to herself, ' how can there be so much evil in the world if places like this exist?'
"Hey Syd," Vaughn said gently in her ear, "We better go if we want to make those reservations."
"Mmm," was her only response as she buried herself deeper into his embrace. All she wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms and be content forever.
"Syd..." he murmured, as reluctant as she was to make any movement at all that would change this moment, but knowing it couldn't remain frozen forever.
"Alright..." she responded slowly, withdrawing her hand from his hair, bringing it down to brush the warm flecks of sand from her jeans before unhurriedly lifting her head from where it lay on his chest.
He sat up, still keeping their hands linked between them, and turned to her. For a moment, all they could do was stare and wonder. How was it that things like this were possible? Soul mates couldn't exist... love this strong couldn't exist. Yet neither one of them could imagine anything that was between them instead.
"Syd
"Hmm?"
There it was. The perfect moment. The moment that little girls spend their childhood dreaming about. All he had to do was say it... let the words drift out and settle in the humid air between them. Only three syllables... it would be so simple, so easy
"We should get back."
Sydney nodded, slightly disappointed but understanding, and leaned forward, kissing him delicately. They drew back, slowly and rhythmically as the waves pulling back from the shore. "Let's go."
Walking hand in hand off the beach, Syd looked up at the still cloudless sky. It signified good times ahead, she thought. Looking at clouds caused her pain...she had surprised herself when she'd brought it up. Her hand clutched his tighter, and if he noticed, he chose not to comment.
"So where are we going for dinner?" she asked when they were close to their hotel.
He just grinned. "You can't handle not knowing. It's driving you crazy, isn't it?"
Trying not to smile, she smacked his arm. "I'm perfectly fine. I just need to know how to dress, that's all." It was a lie, and they both knew it, but they were both having too much fun to care.
"Oh, some cowboy boots would work great," he replied, still grinning.
Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned to him, expression as serious as she could manage. "You do realize I know how to kill you with just a few fingers, right?"
Laughing, he continued to walk. She followed, glaring at him. "That's not funny, Vaughn."
He turned around and kissed her soundly. Breaking away, he continued to make his way to the hotel lobby. Ever since they had reached Santa Barbara, it seemed like he'd been smiling nonstop. He knew this had been a good idea, but he'd had no clue how good of an idea it was.
She caught up to him and he wrapped an arm around her waist, still grinning at the pissed off look on her face. "What do you have against country bars? Country music is highly under appreciated."
Shaking her head, she refused to speak. Once through the lobby doors, he kissed her temple. She hated how he could piss her off and then with a kiss unarm her. 'It's gotta be the French in him,' she thought as the elevator rose.
"Something nice."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"Wear something nice."
*
Sydney dug through her suitcase for the fourth time that hour, convinced that she had nothing nice enough to wear. Part of her was wondering why it mattered, Vaughn had seen her at her absolute worst and cared for her anyway. But another part of her wanted, at least for tonight, to be the most beautiful woman in the world for him.
She pulled a slinky black number from the bottom that had evaded her grasp. "Perfect," she whispered to herself as she ran her fingers over the soft material. Since she'd lost all her clothes in the fire, she went shopping and the dress was a little something she bought specially for Santa Barbara.
As Sydney began to run a brush through her already perfect, shiny hair, Vaughn stood in front of the bathroom mirror and straightened his tie for the 6th time. He'd been ready for almost a half an hour but he knew that walking out of the bathroom and seeing Sydney before she was ready would destroy all her fun.
But suddenly, a rude melodic beeping interrupted his thoughts. His cell phone. He pulled it swiftly out of his pocket and answered without looking at the number.
"Michael Vaughn."
"Michael, hi, this is Lauren Reed, we met the other day."
"Oh, yeah, I remember. Hi."
A voice called out from the bedroom, "Vaughn, ready!"
"Is this a bad time?" Lauren asked as he opened the door.
"Well-"
"-Because I was hoping I could talk to you about-"
But it didn't matter what she was hoping. Because his gaze then fell upon Sydney. She smiled. He gulped and cut off Lauren's voice. "Um, Ms. Reed? Could you hold that thought? I'm a little busy now."
"But-"
"Thanks."
The 'off' button on his phone had never seemed so friendly. Once off, he placed the phone on the counter and walked slowly over to Sydney. She nodded at the phone on the bathroom counter. "Who was that?"
"Nobody," he muttered as he pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. "You know," he whispered into her ear, "I'm not so hungry for food anymore." Kissing down her neck, he felt her pulse quicken and goose bumps stand out on her skin. "Vaughn."
"Hmm?" His hands had joined in his ministrations, and she felt the familiar sensations spread to her fingertips.
"Stop that."
He grinned when her arms wrapped around his back. "Stop what?" He placed kisses along her jaw line, feeling more and more confident that they would never leave the hotel room.
"That," she gasped as he returned to her neck. "I want to know where we're going to dinner!" Frustrated, she pushed him away. His cocky smile just made to fuel her psuedo rage even more.
"Actually," his smile softened and eyes widened, as if he was expecting a blow, "I never had anywhere in mind. I just wanted to see you in that dress I saw in the apartment."
Sydney's mouth twitched but she forced her expression to remain stoic. "You asshole."
"Maybe. But you have to admit, you liked seeing me in this too." He tugged at the collar of his suit jacket.
"I hate you so much right now."
"For a well trained and talented spy, you're not very convincing at the moment."
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Sydney knew exactly how to do that. Quickly, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to her, bringing their lips together full force.
As they pulled apart for breath, Vaughn had barely enough time to say "Alright, I've satisfied my urge to see you in this dress long enough..." before they came crashing together again and landed on the bed, their hunger... for the food, at least, as Vaughn had said... now completely forgotten.
It wasn't until a few hours later when Sydney holding Vaughn's hand and her head was on his chest that she let herself fully realize how happy she was. Life may have been throwing her some curveballs, but this moment, right now, was all she needed.
"Syd?" Soft lamplight caressed his skin, giving it a muted glow and reflecting off his eyes almost eerily. She craned her head up to see his eyes and kissed his chest on the way.
"Yea?" Again she heard the unspoken words hanging overhead, threatening to spill out. It would complete the perfect day, she thought, as his fingers traced the curves of her jaw.
"I'm glad we came." A subdued smile crossed her features as he bent his head to kiss her on the mouth, re igniting the fire that had been put out merely minutes before. They didn't need to rush it, she thought. But then again, time wasn't always on their side.
*
"Mr. Sloane...you disappoint me. Those promises you made amounted to nothing, so we lost the assent we had hoped to gain." Lazeray's voice was cold and distant as the safety turned off. The gag tightly restraining the griseld old man prevented him from answering, but his eyes were filled with fear. Something had gone horrifically wrong, but he had no idea what it could have been.
"Since you were so helpful before, I'm going to make this relatively painless. You are a good affiliate, and I'm sorry you have to die."
The gun fired, and Arvin Sloane lost his life.
*
He jerked up in bed, a cold sweat drenching the expensive starched sheets and chilling him to the bone. It was almost like he had died, the way his life flashed before his eyes and the unnerving darkness that enveloped him until he was forced awake.
It was no dream...of that he was certain. No, he knew, something had malfunctioned within Il Dire. Slipping his feet into the slippers on the side of the bed, he picked up the phone and ordered that his jet be ready to go to Africa as soon as possible. He was going to inspect Il Dire with his own eyes.
A light breeze ruffled through Sydney's hair, sending the long strands dancing in the air and occasionally whipping into her face. Annoyed, she reached down for the ponytail holder she kept on her wrist, but her hand was stopped mid journey.
"Don't," Vaughn whispered into her ear, entwining his fingers with hers. "I like it down." He leaned back in the sand and pulled Sydney with him. They lay there, hands still clasped, gazing into the cloudless Santa Barbara sky.
She snuggled into him, letting her long brown hair fan out on his chest. Sighing happily, she asked, "Hey...did you ever play that game when you were little?"
"Hm? What game?" His hold tightened as she made herself comfortable.
"You know, where you say what you think the cloud looks like."
"No." He wished for some clouds so that he could play now, however. "I was too busy playing hockey."
She let a lazy smile cross her face. "You can't play hockey all the time, Vaughn. What did you do during the summer?" This was why she really wanted to take this vacation; to learn all the little things they never had time to talk about. His childhood was a blank spot in her history of Michael Vaughn and she was determined to change that.
"During the summer... I went to an overnight camp outside of Paris every year from when I was seven to when I was fourteen," he grinned and added pointedly, "A hockey training camp."
Sydney smiled as her free hand found its way to his hair and began tracing invisible patterns in it. "What did you do there? And don't you dare say 'played hockey.'"
"I made a lot of really good friends... mostly during my first year there, and they became better the next year. They really helped me through a lot of crap that year, as young as we were."
Upon realizing what he must have meant, Sydney gripped his hand tighter. "I'm so sorry, Vaughn."
"I told you not to be sorry for her."
"Vaughn-"
"Sydney." She stopped. He continued. "Sydney, we're not going to talk about this now. We're here to relax and forget the hellish life we lead back home. Please, can we just... forget that stuff now?" Her silence answered him. He leaned over and kissed her forehead gently. "Thanks."
They didn't speak for a few minutes, letting the salty aroma of the ocean fill their senses. Waves lapped the shore softly and left little white trails of seafoam on the darkened sand. Seagulls called out at each other and little children splashed in the water. Sydney's eyes drifted shut, soothed by the soft lullaby of the sea. The plagues of her life were washed away with each crash of water upon the shoreline.
'How,' she thought to herself, ' how can there be so much evil in the world if places like this exist?'
"Hey Syd," Vaughn said gently in her ear, "We better go if we want to make those reservations."
"Mmm," was her only response as she buried herself deeper into his embrace. All she wanted to do was fall asleep in his arms and be content forever.
"Syd..." he murmured, as reluctant as she was to make any movement at all that would change this moment, but knowing it couldn't remain frozen forever.
"Alright..." she responded slowly, withdrawing her hand from his hair, bringing it down to brush the warm flecks of sand from her jeans before unhurriedly lifting her head from where it lay on his chest.
He sat up, still keeping their hands linked between them, and turned to her. For a moment, all they could do was stare and wonder. How was it that things like this were possible? Soul mates couldn't exist... love this strong couldn't exist. Yet neither one of them could imagine anything that was between them instead.
"Syd
"Hmm?"
There it was. The perfect moment. The moment that little girls spend their childhood dreaming about. All he had to do was say it... let the words drift out and settle in the humid air between them. Only three syllables... it would be so simple, so easy
"We should get back."
Sydney nodded, slightly disappointed but understanding, and leaned forward, kissing him delicately. They drew back, slowly and rhythmically as the waves pulling back from the shore. "Let's go."
Walking hand in hand off the beach, Syd looked up at the still cloudless sky. It signified good times ahead, she thought. Looking at clouds caused her pain...she had surprised herself when she'd brought it up. Her hand clutched his tighter, and if he noticed, he chose not to comment.
"So where are we going for dinner?" she asked when they were close to their hotel.
He just grinned. "You can't handle not knowing. It's driving you crazy, isn't it?"
Trying not to smile, she smacked his arm. "I'm perfectly fine. I just need to know how to dress, that's all." It was a lie, and they both knew it, but they were both having too much fun to care.
"Oh, some cowboy boots would work great," he replied, still grinning.
Stopping dead in her tracks, she turned to him, expression as serious as she could manage. "You do realize I know how to kill you with just a few fingers, right?"
Laughing, he continued to walk. She followed, glaring at him. "That's not funny, Vaughn."
He turned around and kissed her soundly. Breaking away, he continued to make his way to the hotel lobby. Ever since they had reached Santa Barbara, it seemed like he'd been smiling nonstop. He knew this had been a good idea, but he'd had no clue how good of an idea it was.
She caught up to him and he wrapped an arm around her waist, still grinning at the pissed off look on her face. "What do you have against country bars? Country music is highly under appreciated."
Shaking her head, she refused to speak. Once through the lobby doors, he kissed her temple. She hated how he could piss her off and then with a kiss unarm her. 'It's gotta be the French in him,' she thought as the elevator rose.
"Something nice."
She looked up at him. "What?"
"Wear something nice."
*
Sydney dug through her suitcase for the fourth time that hour, convinced that she had nothing nice enough to wear. Part of her was wondering why it mattered, Vaughn had seen her at her absolute worst and cared for her anyway. But another part of her wanted, at least for tonight, to be the most beautiful woman in the world for him.
She pulled a slinky black number from the bottom that had evaded her grasp. "Perfect," she whispered to herself as she ran her fingers over the soft material. Since she'd lost all her clothes in the fire, she went shopping and the dress was a little something she bought specially for Santa Barbara.
As Sydney began to run a brush through her already perfect, shiny hair, Vaughn stood in front of the bathroom mirror and straightened his tie for the 6th time. He'd been ready for almost a half an hour but he knew that walking out of the bathroom and seeing Sydney before she was ready would destroy all her fun.
But suddenly, a rude melodic beeping interrupted his thoughts. His cell phone. He pulled it swiftly out of his pocket and answered without looking at the number.
"Michael Vaughn."
"Michael, hi, this is Lauren Reed, we met the other day."
"Oh, yeah, I remember. Hi."
A voice called out from the bedroom, "Vaughn, ready!"
"Is this a bad time?" Lauren asked as he opened the door.
"Well-"
"-Because I was hoping I could talk to you about-"
But it didn't matter what she was hoping. Because his gaze then fell upon Sydney. She smiled. He gulped and cut off Lauren's voice. "Um, Ms. Reed? Could you hold that thought? I'm a little busy now."
"But-"
"Thanks."
The 'off' button on his phone had never seemed so friendly. Once off, he placed the phone on the counter and walked slowly over to Sydney. She nodded at the phone on the bathroom counter. "Who was that?"
"Nobody," he muttered as he pulled her to him and kissed her soundly. "You know," he whispered into her ear, "I'm not so hungry for food anymore." Kissing down her neck, he felt her pulse quicken and goose bumps stand out on her skin. "Vaughn."
"Hmm?" His hands had joined in his ministrations, and she felt the familiar sensations spread to her fingertips.
"Stop that."
He grinned when her arms wrapped around his back. "Stop what?" He placed kisses along her jaw line, feeling more and more confident that they would never leave the hotel room.
"That," she gasped as he returned to her neck. "I want to know where we're going to dinner!" Frustrated, she pushed him away. His cocky smile just made to fuel her psuedo rage even more.
"Actually," his smile softened and eyes widened, as if he was expecting a blow, "I never had anywhere in mind. I just wanted to see you in that dress I saw in the apartment."
Sydney's mouth twitched but she forced her expression to remain stoic. "You asshole."
"Maybe. But you have to admit, you liked seeing me in this too." He tugged at the collar of his suit jacket.
"I hate you so much right now."
"For a well trained and talented spy, you're not very convincing at the moment."
"Shut up."
"Make me."
Sydney knew exactly how to do that. Quickly, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to her, bringing their lips together full force.
As they pulled apart for breath, Vaughn had barely enough time to say "Alright, I've satisfied my urge to see you in this dress long enough..." before they came crashing together again and landed on the bed, their hunger... for the food, at least, as Vaughn had said... now completely forgotten.
It wasn't until a few hours later when Sydney holding Vaughn's hand and her head was on his chest that she let herself fully realize how happy she was. Life may have been throwing her some curveballs, but this moment, right now, was all she needed.
"Syd?" Soft lamplight caressed his skin, giving it a muted glow and reflecting off his eyes almost eerily. She craned her head up to see his eyes and kissed his chest on the way.
"Yea?" Again she heard the unspoken words hanging overhead, threatening to spill out. It would complete the perfect day, she thought, as his fingers traced the curves of her jaw.
"I'm glad we came." A subdued smile crossed her features as he bent his head to kiss her on the mouth, re igniting the fire that had been put out merely minutes before. They didn't need to rush it, she thought. But then again, time wasn't always on their side.
*
"Mr. Sloane...you disappoint me. Those promises you made amounted to nothing, so we lost the assent we had hoped to gain." Lazeray's voice was cold and distant as the safety turned off. The gag tightly restraining the griseld old man prevented him from answering, but his eyes were filled with fear. Something had gone horrifically wrong, but he had no idea what it could have been.
"Since you were so helpful before, I'm going to make this relatively painless. You are a good affiliate, and I'm sorry you have to die."
The gun fired, and Arvin Sloane lost his life.
*
He jerked up in bed, a cold sweat drenching the expensive starched sheets and chilling him to the bone. It was almost like he had died, the way his life flashed before his eyes and the unnerving darkness that enveloped him until he was forced awake.
It was no dream...of that he was certain. No, he knew, something had malfunctioned within Il Dire. Slipping his feet into the slippers on the side of the bed, he picked up the phone and ordered that his jet be ready to go to Africa as soon as possible. He was going to inspect Il Dire with his own eyes.