Sydney scowled.
She sat in the same "room" of the jet she'd been held in initially, pouring over blueprints and Vaughn's notes. Written in his distinctive slant, they were instantly soothing.
Hi, Syd.
Commit these steps to memory. Consider it a compliment of your talents.
See you soon.
- Vaughn
But despite the intoxicating thoughts that the mere sight of Vaughn's handwriting brought, very real worry was gnawing at her.
They would keep him alive for a little bit longer, she decided. He was useful as insurance that she would comply with whatever they wanted. But the second his plans for her escape became apparent…
Sydney shuddered. If he died, so would she. Of that, she had no doubt. He was her reason for breathing; her reason for surviving. He was the man she loved more than anything on this earth; the one person in the world she trusted unconditionally. The one person in the world who fully knew Sydney Bristow for who she was, instead of the bits-of-pieces glimpses of herself she allowed others to see.
He just was. Michael Vaughn was her own personal kaleidoscope of life, love and happiness. Of perfection in its purest form. Of an angel. Her angel.
And if she lost that… if she lost him…
Resolutely, she wiped her eyes on the sleeve of Vaughn's leather jacket, which had been given to her once they reached the jet as "motivation" by the arrogant prat known as Sark.
You're not going to lose him, she reminded herself. You're going to get "caught" by the CIA. And then you're going to go with them when they rescue him. So relax.
But the worry continued to persist.
"Sir, I feel I must protest."
Sloane didn't bother to look up as he poured himself a glass of water. Meanwhile, Sark stood impatiently from where the two had been plotting and began to pace.
"Protest what, Mr. Sark?"
The younger man stopped where he was, spearing his partner with a glare.
"You know as well as I do that this so-called assignment will never get off the ground," he bit out. "Sydney will never work for people she hates, especially you. And Agent Vaughn was much too cooperative in our planning sessions. He clearly insured something would interfere."
Sloane sipped his water. "Probably," he agreed.
Sark stared at him, aghast. "You agreed to this arrangement, knowing you had misgivings?"
"Indeed I did, Mr. Sark," Sloane replied easily. "The full picture will make up for any hiccups."
"The full picture?"
He sighed at the other man's cluelessness. "Sydney's future cooperation is essential to me; to the fulfillment of Rambaldi's prophecy," he explained shortly. "After this assignment, she will return to me willingly, out of the desire to learn what I will teach her."
Sark flinched. He had always known Sloane was insane, but what he was saying…
"Presuming the assignment is successful, she doubtlessly will return," he reminded, "but only out of fear for Agent Vaughn."
Sloane waved his hand dismissively. "I ordered Ricardo to execute Mr. Vaughn when I report we've landed in the States. He fulfilled his place in my plans."
"Your plans?" Sark inquired, forcing himself to remain patient. "If you wish to continue this partnership, I want to know everything. Right now."
He was going to die.
It was an instinct, Vaughn decided. Something ingrained in the most primitive thoughts of the lowest living creatures capable of reason.
The guard's movements, the way he studied how exactly he should aim the gun with his eyes, the way he had suddenly relaxed his stance, the way he had allowed his weariness to show, it all added up to one single gunshot.
Fight! His instincts screamed. But he couldn't fight. Still bound firmly to the chair, he wouldn't be able to struggle against his restraints for more than two seconds before he was stopped.
And then the guard's phone rang. Vaughn swallowed hard, his posture stiffening until he sat perfectly in the chair, parade-back straight. Absently, he noted that his executioner now spoke Spanish, not German.
There was no longer any need for mind games.
He raised his head, meeting the other man's gaze bravely. His father, he vowed, would clap him on the back when they reunited in the next two minutes or so.
Well done, son! You went out like a man!
The man raised the gun. Cocked it. Leveled it so the bullet would land in between his eyes.
Ricardo then paused, wishing to give his victim the chance for final pleas. Not out of cruelty, but respect. He would not lose any honor by doing so, he knew, because a man as honorable as Agent Michael Vaughn could never lose any dignity at all, even when strapped to a chair like an animal. His respect had dawned when he had overheard the two prisoners saying their goodbyes. He alone of the captors knew the sacrifice the man had given to free the woman he loved.
But the agent remained silent, his bearing calm and stare piercing. He would not give his last words to the man that took his life. He would not soil what he had finally told Sydney in that manner. His final words, and thoughts, would belong solely to her. The guard, realizing that, nodded to him.
"Usted es un buen hombre. Seré rápido," the guard said aloud, surprising perhaps both of them. ("You are a good man. I will be quick.")
Ricardo's hand tightened on the trigger. Vaughn held the man's gaze, not even seeing the instrument of his death.
I love you, Sydney.
And then the door opened and Emily Sloane walked in.
Just as a reminder, this is an AU fiction, which means anything goes. :)
Review Responses
Andi Horton: There, there! :hands you a tissue: You know what Elsa is holding back, ya nut. Ahem, Vaughn is mine! :swats:
Kayla, kay10197: Yes ma'am.
Raina: Are you right? No, I'm asking. ;) lol
Anonymousthinker: Vaughn knew what was going to happen, and wanted to tell her just in case. It kinda just flew out of his mouth. I think he knew that they were there, so he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of a show, so hence the French. I'm sure Syd didn't mind. ;) Oh, and he didn't see through their dirty Caplan trick because he overcompartmentalized and thought Neil's hostage status was unrelated to his.
Kittyfantastico: Aww! :gushes: Thanks! And like I'd let Vaughn out of my sites for random people to grab. :P
Lynnie: I think Weiss and Co. have a better chance than little ol' me. Either that or Ricardo. lol ;)
UKHoneyB: But no Contrivance Jones, I swear. ;) And nope, you didn't have to wait long for them to find out where they were. lol
Nattie700: LOL, I have 3 little brothers, I can sympathize. ;)
Maxwell: Well, I hope my humble story was a worthy reward! Plenty of Syd angst and introspection coming up! Stay tuned. ;)
Ilovemypenguin: Can I plead the Fifth and look really smart? ;) Combination of both.
Journeyluvr: :gushes: Thanks. ;)
Mirenne: Wow! Thank you very much! I owe all my canon knowledge and characterizations to my fabulous beta. Take a bow, juju!
K4e: Evil Sarkie = Good boy? You and words, man. :snickers: