The only good thing about waking up this time, Vaughn decided, was that his headache was gone.
He sighed wearily, trying to adjust his frame into a more comfortable position. But even as he did that, years of training kicked in. Acting almost on reflex, he forced himself push the fog from his mind and concentrate, analyzing his present situation with a level of methodicalness that would have made his father proud.
- Currently he was alone, best as he could tell with a blindfold. Considering the concussion he'd been nursing, Sydney would have regained consciousness before him and figured out a way to wake him if she had been deposited in the same room.
- He had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor in a room or section of the jet, wrists and ankles bound securely, blindfolded and gagged. The vibrations he could feel through the carpet clearly indicated that the jet was in the air. Though he strained his ears, no one was nearby, which meant they hadn't even bothered to assign a guard to him. He wondered if he should be insulted or amused.
- Sloane knew who he was and what role he had played in destroying The Alliance, but didn't seem to care or hold a grudge. He had been taken solely to be used as a tool to manipulate Sydney for reasons unknown, headed to a destination unknown.
Well, he thought sardonically, I feel a lot better now.
First things first. Vaughn took advantage of his solitude to struggle fiercely against his restraints, grunting against his gag as the exertion caused his headache to make an abrupt comeback. Head spinning, he ceased fighting for a moment… and then froze in place when the sound of an airline door whooshing open registered.
Foreign voices hit his ears, and he frowned slightly, struggling past his dizziness to identify the language. As he did that, rough hands jerked his gag over his chin and he took a deep breath involuntarily, finally able to fully breathe. The foreign tongue continued even as his head was propped up and a water bottle was held to his mouth, his captors clearly sharing his wish to eradicate his concussion by keeping him hydrated. German, his mind finally realized. He was in Germany? He was over Germany?
Duty done, the guard allowed his prisoner's head to sink back down slowly. Vaughn licked his dry lips carefully, knowing he had only seconds to ask the questions he needed to know before they replaced his gag, knowing that they very well could laugh in his face and refuse to answer anyway. And sure enough, the handkerchief around his neck was abruptly cut free. A new one was doubtlessly being readied.
"Wartezeit!" he said quickly. "Bitte! Wer sind sie? Wo ist die frau?" ("Wait! Please! Who are you? Where is the woman?")
The man responded with a chuckle. "No questions," he said, his English clearly broken. Vaguely, Vaughn wondered why the man was answering him in English. He had to know his prisoner was proficient in what was apparently his native tongue.
"Aber…" he protested, in said native tongue. "Ich nicht…" ("But… I don't…")
"No questions, CIA," the man repeated, his tone amused.
"Bitte, gerade ein," Vaughn persisted, not caring that his tone now held a pleading note. "Wo ist die frau? Bitte!" ("Please, just one. Where is the woman? Please!")
Light laughter from the side stole his attention and he scowled inwardly. Just because you can't see him doesn't mean he's not there, Michael! First year recruits know that!
"That'll be all," Sloane said smoothly. "I'll finish taking care of our CIA guest."
She was beautiful when she was angry.
Sark slouched across from Sydney in a leather sofa, studying her frankly as she sat bound to a chair that was set with chains into the floor.
"Where is Vaughn?" she asked coldly.
He sighed, sitting up straight. "As I have told you before, Agent Bristow, Mr. Vaughn is still unconscious. We found it best to seclude him in another area of the plane."
"If something happens to him because you bastards drugged a man with a head injury, I will…"
"You'll what?' His tone, though polite, was bored. "Continue voicing baseless threats?"
If anything, her glare strengthened. "What is it you want?"
"Now we're getting somewhere," Sark congratulated her. He leaned forward restlessly. "You are a very talented woman, Agent Bristow. We require your proven skills for a certain task."
"I'm flattered."
"I'm glad," Sark shrugged. Silence fell over them for a moment.
"You said you want me," Sydney said suddenly, eyeing him sharply.
"Indeed."
"Then why take Vaughn? Do you really want to face both of us?" Her voice was filled with cold amusement. "Not to mention the Agency will spare no expense in finding him. He's a senior officer, after all."
"That, I have been asked to answer," Sark said easily. "I at first believed Mr. Vaughn would simply be a useful pawn to ensure your compliance with Mr. Sloane's orders. And I do not doubt that in some ways, he is."
Sydney said nothing.
"But our sources recently acquired his file for us and Mr. Sloane was quite pleased with certain aspects. He now believes that your Mr. Vaughn will be useful to us for a very different matter."
"That being?"
"You are a very intelligent woman, Sydney. In time, I'm sure you will be able to discern that on your own."
Resolutely, she ignored the compliment. "He won't help you. And neither will I."
Sark smiled, rising and tapping his earpiece in explanation. "You will, Agent Bristow. You both will do whatever you are told. Your obvious attraction, the little moment you had in the Focus… you gave us all we needed to insure your cooperation. In a sense, you condemned each other."
She couldn't reply, knowing that for once, Sark was correct.
At the door, he paused and looked back at her. "We have not yet reached our final destination, so I regret that your resting period is not quite over."
A guard entered the room, syringe in hand.
"But you were relatively subdued during our conversation, Agent Bristow, and I do believe in rewards. Your Mr. Vaughn just awoke and shows no lasting damage from his head condition."
The door slid shut behind him. Sydney was once again in a drugged sleep seconds later.
Please forgive any language errors!
Review Responses
Mayleen: Well, thanks very much and will do!
Kittyfantastico: How are they gonna get out of this? Good question. ;) And I think Vaughn's cracking jokes and stuff for Sydney's sake. Gotta love that man.
Nattie700: Well, thanks for the lovely review! Hehe. ROTFL = Rolling on the floor laughing. I'm glad Jen and Michael make each other happy, but that's really none of my business, so I'm neutral on that topic. lol
MvsGirl: Poor Kendall. I've never seen a good guy been more hated! ;)
HBKSteph and Dee: LOL! Thanks for that. ;)
MJ: All in good time. ;)
Ilovemypenguin: Argh, I had to deal with that, too. Silly people. Answers are next chapter. ;)
Em Mindelan: :sings: Tomorrow, tomorrow! lol. Will beta right after this is posted.
Kay10197: Thanks much!
Linda: :sniffles: Alas, I think that's the end of the Focus' guest appearance. What ever will we do?