Sydney Bristow was not a patient person. Not only that, she hated silence. She liked action, initiation, fire, sparks, commotion, noise, and there was none of that where she was currently. To entertain herself, she studied a crack in the ceiling of the warehouse, noting its intricate trail from the top to the side of the wall, and wondered morbidly if one day, the gravity of the earth would finally overpower the stubborn cement ceiling and cause it to crumble with a thunderous roar, right above Vaughn and herself as they spoke of another counter-mission. Automatically, she searched for a piece of wood, and finding that she was leaning against a wooden crate, reached behind her and knocked on it, cursing herself in the meantime for being both unnecessarily imaginative as well as superstitious.
She sighed loudly, her exasperation stemming mostly from the fact that the warehouse was stiflingly humid, and that she was wearing a black suit, which seemed to make the situation worse. Just as her impatience was edging into worry, Vaughn appeared at the gateway entrance, dressed casually, and his face overcast by the large brim of a baseball cap that seemed to have been from the 50's. She smiled, amused, "That's the first time I've seen you in a hat." She could only discern his smile from the way the corners of his mouth turned upwards. If it was a forced one, she wouldn't have been able to tell because the cap shaded his eyes. As he drew closer, she grew concerned. His gait was unsteady, and the way he held himself drew obvious attention to the fact that he was either desperately trying to hide some bad news, or he was about to fall apart, and was holding onto a very thin string of composure.
Walking up to him, she raised her hand to lift the cap off his head to learn the truth from his eyes. He waved at her hand, protesting, "Hey, don't touch the hat!" but gave in as she grabbed his arm from swatting her hand away, and slowly pulled the ridiculous hat off.
At first she couldn't see much in the dimness, but dragging him over to a more lighted area, she saw that he was sick and in dire need of at least a week's worth of sleep.
"Vaughn..." She started to say, but stopped when he silenced her with his hand. "Look, let's just get this done with. Then, I'll do whatever you were going to say to me just now. But, this mission is crucial, and we can't waste any time."
Anger and irritation flashed across Sydney's face, but disappeared just as instantly as it had come. She lifted both her hands this time and cupped Vaughn's face endearingly as she said hopelessly, "You're not fair. How come you're allowed to worry about me, while I'm supposed to just sit back and watch you suffer?"
Vaughn leaned into her hands, allowing them to massage his throbbing temples, and breathing in her clean scent. "God Vaughn...you're burning up,"she commented worriedly as she moved her hands down from his face to encircle her arms around his waist. He pulled back from her grip. He was in control. He had to be for his own sake as well as Sydney's. Once more he reverted back to his role as the invincible handler.
"It's not that bad, Syd...just a cold," he tried unconvincingly.
"Whatever. Just get on with the counter-mission, "she said, crossing her arms against her chest, "The sooner I hear it, the sooner I'll get to pop you full of pills, tie you down to a bed, and induce you into a death-like slumber."
Vaughn smiled, handed her a photo of the Rambaldi piece, and watched as she peered at the photo carefully, seemingly etching the details of the statue into her memory. "What's that right there?" she asked him, pointing to the second figure in the photo. "It's a headless faun," he said humorously. She frowned, as if he had said something sacrilegious. If it weren't for the deformity of the second figure, she felt she would have liked the statue. Somehow she couldn't believe that Rambaldi, creator of beauty, would have purposely made it headless. It seemed incomplete. "It's actually a very small statue. It would fit in a 12"x8" box," Vaughn was saying, "and you'd have to use this..." at this point, he took out a deceptively flat and insignificant padding of cloth, "to get through the glass case." Sydney looked incredulously at Vaughn. "That thing? It's just a piece of cloth." "You forget Sydney, we have our own ingenious little scientist, Marshall," Vaughn retorted as he showed her how to patch the sticky side of the cloth onto her palm. "It's sensitive to glass, so when you press against the case with your palm, the glass should easily pop out. Something to do with electricity, I didn't understand him half the time he was explaining it to me." She took the cloth from Vaughn, "So is Agent Wilkes going to have one as well? Or is he just going to be there to watch my back?"
Vaughn paced slowly, thinking aloud, "Actually yes, he will have one, but you're our key player Syd. If somehow you're not able to reach the case, he'll be sent in. But for the most part, yeah, he's basically going to watch your back."
"How's Agent Ron?"
"Agent Ron?" Vaughn asked, looking at her blankly.
"Yeah, how is he? He can handle all this...mission stuff? He seems a bit old."
"He's not any older than your father," he said defensively.
"Well, it's just that it seems a person of his age would be in a different, I guess a safer
line of work."
"Your father's position is no more safe than mine," Vaughn argued.
"I guess I'm just used to younger handlers..." Sydney shrugged her shoulders as she studied the photo again.
Suddenly she looked up accusingly at Vaughn. "What are you not telling me?"
Vaughn rubbed his forehead, feeling strangely faint as he heard his heart beat pulsing at his temples. Frustrated, he tried to control his temper, which had risen several notches with his fever at Sydney's endless questions and comments. "I really don't know Syd. I'm lost on this one, just as you are. I have no clue why there are going to be two handlers and two agents, but you can assume that this mission is important and that it's dangerous."
Sydney sought out his eyes, and seeing that he was telling the truth, she stood, stretched, and impulsively kissed him, or more like pecked him on the lips. "Now then, I'm going to walk you to your apartment and take care of you." She linked arms with his, but he gently shook her off, looking at her apologetically. "Actually, I think that would be unwise. We're leaving tomorrow Syd. We don't want to jeopardize the mission by being seen together." Sydney's face fell, then looking up, she gave him a sad smile, "Then promise me you'll take care of yourself tonight."
"I promise," he replied quickly, much too quickly from the looks of Sydney who had narrowed her eyes at him. "That's a promise," she growled, turning on her heels, and walking out of the warehouse, muttering to herself about "stubborn men" and things of that sort. Vaughn waited for her to disappear out of view before he sank to the ground in exhaustion, his head resting against the warm concrete wall of the building. As he slowly slipped away from consciousness into a dream world of clouds, the humidity in the warehouse increased, and outside, foreboding gray clouds gathered together, thickening and compacting themselves together until the sky was no longer visible.