It was all he could do to not twiddle his thumbs.
Vaughn sat at his desk, completely ignoring Kendall's pointed "go-rest" looks. He had allowed himself to be escorted to Medical Services, mainly because the cuts on his wrists had been agitated when he had stroked Sydney's back, and, well, blood was hard to get out of suit jackets. But that had been the extent of his cooperation.
So instead, he leaned back in his chair and watched everyone else work to gather intel for Kendall to decide just when and where Sydney would be sent pay back Sloane and Sark. At least, he hoped that was what was going to happen. If Kendall tried anything else, Vaughn had a feeling the Director might have to visit Medical Services, too. Extensively.
For the first time in a while, he had no problem with taking a backseat to the action. Snatched pieces of conversation from agents that rushed by him had provided him with chilling pieces of information that he was currently trying to avoid.
Francie Calfo had been shot with one of his semi-automatic pistols. And Irina Derevko had worn gloves, which meant his fingerprints were on the murder weapon. Which had been, thankfully, retrieved and quieted in short order by the CIA after the police determined and almost publicly announced that information.
His head spun, the possible motives for the botched framing - if that's what it was - giving him a headache that was reminiscent of his recent concussion experience.
The monster that killed his father had been in his home. In his bedroom. And all his work, all his investigations against Irina, had only been useful in that they had ensured the framing attempt would never work.
Where were you when the murder took place?
Well, uh, I was in debrief for the other reason I was in trouble with the law.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. She was clean. I found nothing.
Obviously a failure, that.
Jack Bristow sank wearily into Agent Weiss' chair, the only free chair in the building. Theories processed through his mind at such an astonishing rate that his body's energy couldn't keep up, and he felt as though he hadn't slept in days.
Hesitantly, he glanced over to his right. He needed to voice his ideas to someone, and Michael Vaughn's willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice for his daughter had struck a chord within him.
"Agent Vaughn?"
The younger man straightened, looking at him questionably.
"I wonder," Jack hesitated. "I wonder if you would brainstorm with me."
Vaughn nodded, a thrill racing through him at the unspoken but still obvious meaning behind his question. Jack Bristow rarely approved of anyone or anything. But with that simple question, it seemed as though he and Sydney's father had gone from grudging tolerance of one another to the beginnings of genuine respect.
"Of course, Jack."
Weiss laughed out loud, unable to stop himself.
"Listen here, you little British cocky son of a bitch," he snapped, gun aimed directly between Sark's eyes. "The day I work with you for any reason is the day you're in chains. In hell."
Sark afforded him an amused smirk. "Come now, Agent Weiss. What I am offering is to the betterment of your national security. Surely with your CIA loyalties you would put that before any petty prejudices."
Weiss' blood boiled. "Petty prejudices?"
Sydney touched his arm. "You said 'your friend and mine'," she said quickly, before Weiss could explode again. "I wasn't aware you knew - " she almost choked on past tense - "Francie."
"I didn't," Sark answered promptly. He looked her in the eyes. "The woman that was killed today, Agent Bristow, was not Francine Calfo."
"Jack, I can't figure this out. I can't decide if Irina killed her out of spite or vengeance or…" Vaughn shook his head.
They had retreated to the same room where Vaughn had been debriefing. Jack sat in a chair while Vaughn, grateful to not be required to do so, leaned against the table.
He'd sat in a chair long enough to last several lifetimes.
"Could it be punishment?"
"What?"
Jack straightened. "A punishment for Sydney, perhaps. For her not extracting Irina."
"Oh," Vaughn frowned, deep in thought. "Maybe, but that doesn't explain why they used my gun. They might not have known I was still alive when they ordered the hit. Why bother framing me if they thought they had already killed me?"
"I'm not sure they meant to frame you," Jack replied. "If they knew you were alive, they would not have had Ms. Calfo killed until they could confirm your whereabouts. Irina Derevko would not make such a drastic mistake."
"Okay," Vaughn considered. "So. New idea. It wasn't an attempt to frame me, but rather it was done so we would know she was the one that did it. But that would suggest she would want to lead us to Sloane…. Which means she's on her side. No, that's not it."
"The only side that woman is on, Agent Vaughn, is her own."
"You don't have to convince me of that."
"What are you talking about?" Sydney's blood ran cold.
"Your Ms. Calfo died a month ago," Sark answered coolly. "She was replaced by a genetic double named Allison Doren."
"That's - "
He ignored her interruption. "You'll want to verify what I just said. I must be going, but I have proof that I will provide for you."
"You think you're leaving?" Weiss' tone was incredulous.
Sark responded by reaching into his trench coat pocket and pulling out a disk.
"Here," he said shortly, tossing it to Sydney. "Allison's DNA sequence. I'm certain you know what to do with that. Test that with blood taken from - " he cleared his throat. " - from the body."
She stared at it wordlessly. He has to be lying. I would've known!
"Once you confirm that information, dial the voice message number available in the plain text file on that disk and leave your cell phone number. I will assume you have agreed to my proposal."
"How do I know this isn't an elaborate hoax?" Sydney snapped. "Something you, Derevko and Sloane schemed up to get control of Operations?"
"Allison and I were very dear to one another," he answered evenly. "Proof of that is also on the disk. Sloane went behind my back when he ordered her death. I terminated our partnership as a result. The only way he can wreak comeuppance for her murder, Agent Bristow, is for me to work with you."
He backed up a step. "I look forward to working with you again, Agent Bristow."
"Don't move," Weiss barked sharply.
Sark favored him with another look of amusement before turning and seemingly melting into the shadows, vanishing right in front of them.
Up next: The end of the first part of Presages. Think of it as Jinnie's season finale. Which, due to length, will be posted this Saturday, or Monday if my review quota isn't met. Is it worth waiting that long for? At ten pages and counting, I hope so!
Review Responses
Teehee. I admit, I had some fun titling the last chapter. Actually, I was just being mean. So many people have asked if Presages is a prequel to Surmising Alliances (it's not, Presages is an AU story while SA was strictly canon-based), so I couldn't resist poking fun.
C-n-C: I'm so sorry! It was unintentional, really! (Really!) Stop pouting! :P
Kat10197: I can't wait to post it! lol
Kittyfantastico: Life's not fair. Vaughn is MINE!! Muhahahahahahaha! STILL no DVDs? Grrrr.
Gatorgrl: Awwwww! :gushes: Thank you! Totally makes my day!
Teaser: "Mike, if you go through with this I'll kill you myself. We will not be friends, do you understand?"
Ivy3: He needed to get her attention, I think. And thanks!
Ivy: Man, I wish I had your optimism about the RONG. Congrats on your license! If I ever make it over there I want you to call me when you're out driving, okay? That way, I know to stay off the roads. ;)
Anna16: Thanks for your sweet words!
Raina: hehe, sorry! Now I can say, 'no, Presages is its own Surmising!'
MvsGirl: :gushes: Thanks for the vote of confidence!
UKHoneyB: Poor Neil. :sniffles:
valley-girl2: Thanks! Don't worry, I'm all confused, too. I have an outline of the story and it's hard to read because arrows are drawn everywhere and all the lines are color-coded by highlight markers. lol
Erin: I'm so sorry for skipping you! Bad Jinnie! Bad!