"You're not telling me something."
"Excuse me?"
Will leaned forward, intent. "Look. I'm Will Tippin. Does my name ring any bells? Heroin? SD-6?"
Elsa averted her eyes.
"I know that if you won't tell me, it has to be pretty bad," Will continued quietly. "But Elsa… Mrs. Caplan… let's get one thing clear."
She sniffled.
"I just want my friends back," he said quietly. "I know you can understand that. Whatever you're hiding, I swear to God, I don't care. We don't care. This isn't the CIA or the government. This is just us going after people that are hurting Sydney and Vaughn. They will kill them, just like they will kill your husband."
She swallowed hard.
"Mommy! Look what I found!"
Both Will and Elsa looked up, pasting on smiles, as the five year old ran up with a bouquet of dandelions clutched in his fist.
"Thank you, sweetie," Elsa murmured, taking the gift. "Go and play for a little bit longer, okay? Stay where I can see you."
"Okay!" Aaron shouted gleefully, dashing back off again.
"Sydney and Vaughn are the reason why we can sit here together," Will said sharply. "They saved not only your life, but Aaron's, and then got captured while trying to track down your husband! Are you going to repay that by allowing all three of them to die?"
Elsa flinched but continued to deliberately look away.
"Fine," Will said, standing in defeat. "Their blood is on your hands."
He walked away without looking back, pulling out his phone to admit his failure to Jack.
"Wait! Mr. Tippin! Wait!"
He turned expectantly.
"I can help you find your friends, and my husband," she said. "But first, you have to swear to me that whatever happens, my son will be taken care of."
Irina paced restlessly in Vaughn's living room. The three men were out trying to find intel, but she was stuck in perhaps the most unusual prison possible.
In the home of the son left behind when she killed his father.
William Vaughn was everywhere; Amélie Vaughn was apparently quite the photographer. Pictures of all sizes decorated the walls and any spare space on furniture tops: William and Michael with The Big Bouncing Ball that all young children loved, William and Michael in his grade school uniform, William and Michael at a Scouts de France campout.
William and Michael and a cake with the number 8.
And then, rather abruptly, the father/son pictures stopped.
Because of me, she thought, both enthralled and frightened by the power she had wielded.
"I wish to speak with this man," Emily said imperiously as she gestured to Vaughn, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Right now."
It was a puzzle as to who was startled more, the would-be murderer or his would-be victim. Ricardo immediately lowered his gun, having endured countless lectures by Arvin Sloane on his wife's innocence.
None of this has anything to do with Emily, he had ordered every member of his staff, including the younger blonde man he worked with. None of this will touch her. Am I clear?
"I…" Ricardo stammered, at an utter loss.
He wasn't the only one. Vaughn dropped his head, body slumping, noting in the back of his mind that he was shaking. His throat burned and it vaguely occurred to him that he hadn't been breathing. That he still needed to breathe because somehow, inexplicably, he wasn't dead. Dead people didn't need to breathe.
Come on, Mike. Snap out of it.
"Señora Sloane…." The guard tried again.
"And I want to do so in private," she continued icily, ignoring his interruption.
After a few more moments of stammering, the guard obeyed and left, leaving Vaughn and Emily alone. Arvin's wife waited patiently for him to regain control of himself, her scrutinizing look reminding Vaughn of animal watchers at the zoo.
Review Responses
Ilovemypenguin: Well, thanks for the permission. ;) Oooh, what article?? I'm still mad at the idiotic In Style people for having MV as most sexy… and than hiding his face in the picture! Hello? lol
Raina: Yup!!!
Kay10197: Ooo ooo! I know! :raises hand:
MB138: Yay! Thanks for reviewing! I loooove new reviewers! Hehe
Andi: My experience with high water involves a dishwasher with too much soap. I feel your pain. lol. Nope. He's MINE. :P
K4e: Are they gonna go at it? (In the non-gutter sense)? Good question. ;)Let's just say that Sark is so much more than a lackey.
Kira: LOL! Now THAT'S dedication!
Angela: :gushes: New reviewers totally rock my socks. Thanks for dropping a word!
Anonymousthinker: LOL, so you like Emily? ;)
Kittyfantastico: Thank you, I rather enjoyed the whole 'cliffhanger' thing myself. I hear they're more fun when you do one and then make the readers wait a week for the resolution. Maybe I should try that, you think? ;) A letter? To someone? Ooo, color me scared.
Nattie700: Wow! Your teacher's quite the celeb! Hmmm, isn't "The Power of Love" a song??
UKHoneyB: :whistles:
Charmedgal005: :sniffles:
Up next…
Spy drawers are not what they seem. Sometimes they have stuff inside. BIG stuff. And okay, anything I now say will sound like innuendo.