Jack slammed his hand down on the desk, utterly infuriated. "Agent Weiss?" he barked into the receiver. "Where are you?"
"Sir, the damn cars only go up to 180," Weiss responded. "But I think we're going 230 in the 'chopper. They are not taking Mike and Syd-" he remembered who he was talking to - "Agent Bristow. Sir. We'll get there."
"What's your ETA?"
"2 minutes."
Sydney continued to drive, anxiously watching the rearview mirror more than the road. Vaughn sat sprawled in the backseat, completely out, a trickle of blood running down his face.
So intent was she on watching her lover that she entirely missed the white, unmarked moving truck that appeared alongside her. Her eyes widened with startled realization.
"Stop the car," Sloane ordered her. Bewildered, she didn't hear him.
"Stop the car," he barked again, this time resting the gun lightly against the unconscious Vaughn's temple and taking care that she could easily see his actions in the rearview mirror. She obeyed, but stopped far harder than necessary. Maybe, just maybe, I can throw him forward a little and grab the gun.
Sloane, predicting her plan, braced himself against the doorframe firmly with his free hand. She sighed, temporarily deflated. The Focus rolled to a halt.
"Mr. Sark, have the driver move in position, please."
The truck pulled in front of them. The ramp lowered.
Sydney's jaw dropped. It was all eerily similar to a ruse used by her and her father months earlier. But that would mean…
Sloane, sensing her surprise, flashed her a smile in the mirror. "Like I said, Sydney. I've known everything about you and your father for a long time."
"Sir, there's no one here."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, sir, that there's no one here. Anything on satellite?"
"No, Agent Weiss."
"Damn!" Eric exploded, kicking the tires of one of the government cars in frustration.
Back at the Operations Center, Jack Bristow threw down his receiver with such force that it shattered on impact. Ignoring the sudden silence that engulfed the rest of the room at his uncontrolled eruption of anger, he turned on his heel and stormed out.
--
Sensory perceptions rushed back to Michael Vaughn in a merciless, dizzying array of sights and sounds. He groaned, unable to stop it. The part of his mind that was somehow still functioning noted dully that he probably had a mild concussion.
"Vaughn?"
The voice was a mere whisper, but his desire to shake himself fully awake doubled at the sound of Sydney's concerned voice. He blinked, fighting to reassert his control.
"Come now, Mr. Vaughn. It was only a light knock."
Sark. Anger, he realized, was almost as effective as adrenaline when it came to reawakening him. After only few more minutes, he was able to open his eyes fully and look around. What he saw made him wonder if perhaps he'd been hit harder than he thought and was delusional, because it appeared for all the world like he was still sitting inside the Focus.
Which sat inside a moving white truck.
Well. Interesting.
"He's awake. The test is working flawlessly, Sydney isn't resisting us at all since Mr. Vaughn is unable to fend for himself."
"Sydney has very few weaknesses, Mr. Sark. Mr. Vaughn is one of them. We are nearing the jet. Prepare them, please."
Oblivious to the guards, oblivious to Sark, and oblivious to their current situation as a whole, Sydney effortlessly maneuvered her way to the back of the Focus.
Vaughn slouched low in his seat, seemingly unaware that she had joined him. She swallowed hard, her worry for her boyfriend increasing at the sight of him, eyes closed and body slumped exhaustedly against the leather.
Hand shaking, she reached over to stroke his hair, mind working frantically to recall long-ago first aid seminars He stirred at her touch, something she was immensely grateful for. One thing she did remember: people with head injuries ran the risk of sinking into a coma if they fell asleep. Keep him awake, Sydney!
"You okay?" she blurted.
"Fine," Vaughn replied, somehow managing to keep his eyes open. In reality, he now knew he had a concussion, due to the fact that he was about to be sick. But he had to be strong. For her. Not out of some desire to have a strong masculine image, but because he knew, from the experience borne out of countless missions, that if he allowed himself to fall apart, she would follow him.
She would follow him anywhere, just as he would follow her.
"How are you, Syd?"
"Fine," she mimicked. Hesitantly, not wanting to hurt him further, she dabbed lightly at his split lip with a cloth given to her by one of the guards. "That's gotta sting."
"It doesn't tickle," he replied, tensing slightly. Outside the Focus, the guards' activity had suddenly increased.
"They took our earpieces," Sydney told him softly, taking advantage of the nearness her ministrations required to whisper directly in his ear. "And the knife I had hidden on my ankle. And the pocketknife in your jacket pocket."
"Is that all?" Vaughn breathed, enjoying her closeness in spite of himself. "What are you worried about?"
She scowled at him. Vaughn sighed, recognizing that determined look well.
"Vaughn, what were you doing?" she demanded. "Were you trying to get Sloane to shoot you?"
"Yes," he replied honestly.
She stared at him, aghast. "What?"
"I was hoping he would shoot me and be so distracted in the process that he wouldn't notice you jumping out of the car," Vaughn informed her. "The car would then drive off the road. You'd be safe, Sloane would be dead and I'd be reunited with my father. It was a win-win."
Her jaw dropped. "You're serious."
"Yes. Sydney, you were putting me ahead of what needed to be accomplished. We can't do that. I was trying to remove that option."
She hit him then. Not hard, but still firmly enough to make a point.
"Ouch!" he protested.
"You listen to me," Sydney hissed. "You try that idea again and you'll wake up with more than a concussion!"
He sighed. "Syd, like I said, the mission is what's important. Sloane and Sark are both here. The world will be a better place when they're dead. And if you have to choose between the countless lives that will be saved when they're gone or my life, well…"
"And if you had to choose?" Sydney demanded harshly.
He couldn't answer her, his breath catching at the thought.
"That's what I thought," she snapped. Vaughn sighed again, this time in frustration. His head ached, he had just lost a word play argument to the one person in the world that knew how to defeat him, and they were captured and probably facing imminent torture and execution.
Which meant that the fact that all he wanted to do was pull the aforementioned woman to him and kiss her was very out of place.
Abruptly, both doors to the backseat opened at once. They both flinched as their guards aimed bright flashlights and guns at them.
"Out of the car, please." In direct contrast to the brutal lighting, Sark's voice was almost bland.
Review Responses
Linda! Shhhhhhhhhhhhhh! :snerks: Focus, hmmm? Damn subliminal messages. GO CHEVY!
Arwen: lmao! Now THAT's dedication. I updated like 5 minutes after you reviewed, so hopefully it wasn't too long of a wait! ;)
Serendipity112233: Who me? 0:-) Don't you mean Sloane? :whistles: lol
Loco, Kaylan: :salutes:
Britt: Eh? What? Can't hear ya. ;)
Kittyfantastico: :gushes: Really? :wipes away tear: lol. I love that you reviewed!
Kay10197: Yes ma'am!
Em: Uh-uh. You're evil, Ms. Bits 'o Story. ;) Don't cry! Here, have a tissue.
Nattie700: :grumbles: I had actually added chapter 2 before you reviewed, FF just isn't letting you see it. Just add random letters to the end of the address, it forces it to reload.
MvsGirl: LOL, that's my hope, too!