Neil squinted, trying to force his vision into clarity. That voice… the woman speaking to him had a soft lilt, much like Elsa, and the gentleness in her tone was also reminiscent of his wife…
And then his eyes swam into focus and he found himself looking at a middle-aged but still beautiful brunette, the gentle look in her eyes counteracted by the hard lines in her face. This is not someone to toy with.
"My name is Irina Derevko," the woman told him. Perhaps reading his mind, she flashed him an indecipherable smile. "I require your help, Mr. Caplan."
"We're missing something," Vaughn sighed, reluctantly sinking into a chair. It was either that or pace around, and instinct told him Jack wouldn't be thrilled if he toured the room.
Jack nodded, hands folded neatly in front of him. "I agree."
"The CIA thought I was the mole," Vaughn thought aloud. "I'm assuming that investigation stopped after they fingered me."
"Yes," Jack replied, mind trying to follow the younger man's logic.
"And they thought Sydney could be working with me," Vaughn continued.
"Yes."
"So when all of you figured out it I was innocent, what happened to that investigation? Sloane had access to all sorts of information, including my personal specs. Who's the traitor that gave him that? Who's the mole?"
Will stood up sluggishly when the door opened. It had hardly closed before he enveloped his last remaining best friend in his arms, united in their grief. Both of them cried, not caring or perhaps not noticing that they had an audience. Awkwardly, Weiss edged around Sydney and Will, stepping over to join Dixon and the Caplans in Vaughn's kitchen. The very least they could do is grant them privacy.
"She'll be all right," Dixon said aloud as Weiss sank into a chair at Vaughn's tiny kitchen table where the other two adults were already perched, hot cups of tea in front of them. "She's strong. She'll get through all of this."
Elsa nodded quietly, heart aching for the beautiful young woman whom had saved both her and her son, and who had, along with her boyfriend, experienced hell on earth while trying to save her husband. She couldn't help but feel a little guilty, even though she knew it was unwarranted.
"Oh," she stammered, trying to hide the sudden contagious tears in her eyes. "Can I get you something, Agent Weiss?"
He forced a smile. "Sometimes Mike is too European for his own good. What I really want is a beer."
Dixon nodded.
And then Weiss started, surprised, as Aaron stepped forward from where he'd been rolling his cars around on the floor and tugged on Eric's sleeve to get his attention. "Excuse me," the little boy said politely.
"What's up?" he asked.
Aaron stared up at him, tiny brow wrinkled in concentration."Where's Mike?" he asked.
"Mr. Vaughn," Elsa corrected absently.
Aaron frowned at his mother. "But he called him Mike!" he protested, pointing at Eric.
"Mr. Weiss is a grownup, just like Mr. Vaughn," Elsa replied. "And don't point. That's not polite either."
Weiss suppressed a smile. All moms are alike.
"Mr. Vaughn is in meetings," he assured the child, trying to resist the urge to peek into the living room . "He's coming home soon."
"They'll pay," Sydney whispered, voice hoarse from sobs. "I'll make them pay for what they've done. Francie was innocent, she… she…"
"I know," Will murmured. He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe this. I know we lost her today, but I… I'm still waiting for my cell to ring, with her on the other end gushing about a new recipe. This doesn't make any sense!"
He rose from the couch the two had collapsed upon when their grief robbed them of strength to stand, pacing around the room.
And then he stopped. Sydney still sat, fingering a red floppy disk she had pulled out of her coat.
"What if I told you," she said, still whispering, "that there's a chance we lost her three months ago?"
Standing slightly away from the busy hustle of the room, Kendall passed an exhausted hand over his eyes and wondered for the countless time why he had taken this assignment. He was a patriot who believed in order, a man who had devoted his life to the betterment of the greater good. His life was one of structure and organization, of knowing the boundaries and showing respect by never crossing them.
At least he had been like that. And then he had come here and met the three people that specialized in throwing his entire operating system askew: Agent Jack Bristow, a brilliant man that would nevertheless give United States national security to the highest bidder if it meant saving his long-estranged daughter, Agent Sydney Bristow, an extraordinarily talented young woman with abilities that were directly countered by behaviors inherited from said father, and of course, Operations Officer Michael Vaughn.
Kendall sighed. Once upon a time, when he had first accepted this assignment and been briefed about his staff, he had harbored the assumption that the young agent would be a tremendous ally against two double-agent mavericks. Everyone whom he had talked to had described Agent Vaughn as one of the CIA's brightest rising stars, with a reputation that rivaled his father's legacy.
But as far as Kendall was concerned, Sydney Bristow's former handler was nothing more than a younger and only slightly less difficult Jack. His only saving grace was his inability to fully hide his emotions, something that would surely fade with time.
"Director Kendall!"
He snapped his head up. "What is it?"
"Mr. Yeager would like to know when Elsa Caplan will be debriefed," Rick said.
Kendall scowled, rubbing his jaw. In all the hubbub, he had actually forgotten about the other Russian spy.
"Bring her in," he ordered.
Sydney sat rigid in a chair, Will and Dixon flanking her while Elsa went for a much-earned walk and Weiss distracted Aaron. Vaughn's laptop sat in front of them, and Sark's disk burned in her hand. She closed her eyes as the computer began to slowly power up, not bothering to fight the returning numbness that was gradually reasserting control. Horror, rage and guilt warred equally within her.
Francie. Her sweet best friend and the one part of her life whom was wholly normal. The last piece of her innocence, the last hope she had held for life outside government service. In the blink of an eye, the one person she had fought hardest to keep ignorant and thus safe, was gone.
No. Not in the blink of an eye. Francie had died months earlier. Murdered and replaced by a woman who had stolen her face; heartlessly killed to get to her.
And she, Sydney Bristow, veteran spy extraordinare, hadn't even noticed.
In hindsight, it seemed obvious. Of course. Not that hindsight made a difference.
Francie would have known. If things had been different, she would have been the first to notice.
Sydney caught her breath. There it was, the one fact that chilled her almost as much as Francie's death.
She would have known. Why didn't I?
The computer beeped readiness, startling her out of her thoughts. Reaching over, Dixon took the disk from her, pausing for a moment to rest his hand on top of hers soothingly. She forced a smile, touched. He always seemed to know what she needed.
"Here goes nothing," Will muttered as Dixon slid the disk in.
"We're still determining that," Jack answered shortly.
"So you don't know."
"No."
Vaughn nodded to himself, eyes glazing slightly as a new plan began to take hold.
"Jack," he said suddenly.
The other man waited expectantly.
Vaughn leaned forward. "I have an idea."
Still, Jack waited. "Until you tell me what you're suggesting, I have nothing to respond to," he prodded.
"There's no way to determine Derevko's motives. But I can tell you one thing - she wasn't working with Sloane."
"How's that?"
Vaughn shrugged. "Sloane likes to brag," he answered. "He brought up his successes against the CIA quite a bit. If Sloane had been working with Derevko, he would've said something."
Jack nodded thoughtfully. "You still haven't told me what you're planning."
"Since Sloane and Derevko likely were not working together, he wouldn't know about the attempted frame."
"If that's what it was. Personally I don't think so."
"Yes," Vaughn dismissed. "But anyway, he wouldn't know I was innocent. What if we let him think that?"
Jack's eyebrows shot up. "What exactly are you proposing?"
"I'm proposing that I return to Sloane, claiming that I want to clear my name and that he is the only person whose resources I could use to do so. Doing so would enable us to learn the whereabouts of Sark and Caplan, at the very least. It would also allow us to finally get both Sloane and Sark in custody, and maybe even help us find Derevko using Sloane's contacts."
"And why on Earth would you be so desperate that you would go to him in this scenario?"
Vaughn smiled at him. "Sydney. As far as Sloane is concerned, I killed her best friend. Obviously, I wouldn't want her to believe that."
It was just too much.
Sydney stared at the laptop screen, eyes huge. She had never even dared to think that this side of Sark was possible.
Will, too, studied the pictures. Sark and Allison beamed, laughing and kissing each other and appearing every inch a couple in love. "That's just weird," the former reporter mumbled. The younger man in the pictures looked unlikely to shoplift, not to mention ordering the torture of a prisoner.
"I agree," Dixon said dryly. "Of course, these are probably doctored." He clicked another window. A plain-text file opened, bearing a series of numbers. One was clearly a phone number, and the other…
"DNA strand," Sydney murmured, grabbing a pen and paper from Vaughn's desk. "He said there would be."
"Sydney," Dixon warned her. "You know as well as I do that this is just a ploy."
She didn't answer. Will frowned. "Syd?"
"I've been thinking about this," she said at last. "I don't think it is."
Jack shook his head. "Noble sentiments, Agent Vaughn, but you're missing quite a few details."
Vaughn frowned at him. "Like what?"
Jack sighed. The younger agent was slowly earning his respect, true, but he still had yards to go. "Agent Vaughn, if you go to Sloane - provided we can locate him in the first place - and spin that story to him, it will only result in your immediate execution."
"Not necessarily - "
"Arvin Sloane is not a foolish man, and he will know that if you came to him aware of the murder it would mean you were in the area when it occurred, since coverage regarding Ms. Calfo stayed local. It would thus stand to reason that you would have been immediately apprehended by the Agency."
"But - "
"You're thinking of influencing Sloane by emotion. It can be done, Sydney used that technique often as a double. But for you to be successful, Agent Vaughn, you need to have irreproachable logic behind you. To do so without it would mean your burial."
Vaughn ran a hand through his hair. "You're right," he acquiesced. "You're right. So how would we make my idea work?"
Jack pursed his lips, deep in thought. "We'd need someone to vouch that you have indeed turned, or at the very least, that you would be willing to work with Sloane in exchange for your vindication. Someone he trusts."
Vaughn snorted. "Is that all?" Which means the chances are roughly the same as Sloane turning himself in.
"Syd, listen to yourself."
Sydney glared at her long-time partner. "Dixon, don't you dare give me the I-know-you've-had-a-bad-day line. I've thought about this. I really think Sark is genuine."
"Then apparently you haven't thought about it," Dixon countered, his tone that of fatherly tenderness.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I was watching him in the hallway," she said. "He held eye contact with me very evenly, even when Weiss was aiming a gun at his head."
"So you're basing your entire trust on a terrorist with eye contact?" Will intervened. "Have you forgotten what he did to all of us? He had me tortured! He kidnapped you and Vaughn!"
"And he's killed countless innocent civilians," Dixon added. "A man like that has no conscience, Syd. Why set yourself up to fall?"
"I think he does," Sydney replied. "It's…" she paused, trying to make them understand. "When I lost Danny, everyone knew. I mean, on campus. I'm trained to control my emotions, Dixon, you know that better than anyone. But when he died, I lost that ability. It took me forever to get it back."
She took a deep breath. "When we were in that hallway and I looked at him, I could see it. He's hurting just like anyone else would be if… just like I was when I lost Danny. Just like I would be if…" she broke off. If anything happened to Vaughn.
Dixon remained unconvinced. "You're not this naïve, Sydney."
"It's not just that," she responded. "Think, guys. What on earth would Sark stand to gain by essentially turning himself in? For him to even approach me with the possibility, even if it was a ploy, would still be an admissible confession in the court of law."
"Not that he needs one," Will muttered.
"Sark isn't the martyr kind," Sydney shot back. "For him to actually do something not for himself would require something huge. Something like his girlfriend's murder."
Neil shook his head, trying to force his best asset - his mind - to wake up fully. He looked down, taking stock of his surroundings. He lay on a cot in the middle of a dingy, musty-smelling room and aside from the woman, he was alone.
The last things he remembered were coming back to him, and he flinched as the memories exploded into full color inside his head. Michael abandoned protocol to save me… and a woman came in… a woman who looked just like -
"Mr. Caplan?"
"Where am I?" he demanded. "Where's Michael? What's going on?" He tried to sit up, bracing his handcuffed hands against a metal side of the bed and pulling himself upright, only to stop abruptly when the pain in his lower left arm ignited. Puzzled, he looked down, sucking in his breath at the foreign sight of a blood-stained bandage wrapped around that area. Was I shot?
"Agent Vaughn managed to escape," the woman - Irina - answered briefly.
Neil closed his eyes briefly, relieved. That young man had saved his family, and he would never have been able to forgive himself if Michael died.
"What do you want from me?" he asked, resigned.
She graced him with a smile. "I have an offer for you, Mr. Caplan."
A knock on the door interrupted the argument.
"Got it!" Weiss called to them.
Still gazing imploringly at Will and Dixon, Sydney didn't even react.
Weiss scowled at the man standing in front of Vaughn's apartment, the very man who had treated his good friend like a common criminal a few hours prior. "What are you doing here?"
"Can I come in?" The man snapped, irritated.
In response, Weiss leaned all his weight against the door, fully blocking the entrance.
"Agent Weiss," the counter-intelligence retrieval unit leader said wearily. "I'm just doing my job."
"Uh-huh." Weiss didn't budge.
He gave up. "I have been ordered to bring Elsa Caplan in for a full debrief."
Weiss nodded. "And were you going to ask her nicely, or were you going to try to drag another innocent person out of here in handcuffs?"
"Agent Vaughn is hardly inn - "
"What's going on here?"
The two men turned. Sydney stood there, eyebrows raised dangerously at the sound of Vaughn's name.
"What kind of offer?" Neil asked skeptically.
Irina stepped back from him, sinking gracefully onto a stool by the cot. "Do you remember the device you put together for your previous captors?"
Previous? Neil mentally logged that tiny fact away for future use. "Yes," he answered slowly. "But the pieces were one of a kind, and I don't have a photographic memory anyway. If you wanted a duplicate."
Irina chuckled, tucking stray strand of hair behind her hair. "I don't want a duplicate," she assured him.
"Then what do you want from me?"
She leaned forward, looking him straight in the eye. "I need a way to counteract it."
At Sydney's unspoken request, Weiss stepped back reluctantly and allowed the man entry into Vaughn's home. He couldn't help but wonder what the neighbors thought of the steady procession of guests that kept dropping by.
"Where is she?" the man demanded, scanning the tiny apartment.
"Me?" a soft voice asked, from behind them. Elsa stood in the open doorway, looking refreshed from her walk.
"You're going to have to come with me," the man told her briskly.
She eyed him as though he was nothing there than a bug under a microscope. "Am I under arrest?"
"No," the man answered. "You've been classified as a walk-in. We just need to debrief you."
Elsa nodded, relieved. It felt good to know she was trusted again. "What about my son?"
Weiss, Will, Sydney and Dixon exchanged glances. "Um, I can watch him," Will offered at last. Surely Vaughn's other "house guests" had more important things to do.
Elsa nodded again. "Thanks for everything, Mr. Tippin." And with that, she turned and headed down to the hall. The beleaguered retrieval agent stood frozen for a moment, flabbergasted at the woman's impetuousness, before turning and hurrying after her.
Sydney took a deep breath. What she was about to do went against all logic, everything she had been carefully trained for years to think through in every scenario. The only things that agreed with her were her instincts.
And she trusted those more than logic.
So while everyone else was distracted by Elsa Caplan, Sydney picked up her cell phone and dialed a certain voice mail number.
"Elsa Caplan will be coming in shortly," Kendall informed Rick. "Make sure a conference room is ready. This woman cleared Agent Vaughn on her own initiative, she has earned our respect."
Rick nodded, opening his mouth to acknowledge his order. And then his eyes widened behind his glasses, jaw dropping further.
"What?" Kendall asked the tech curiously. He spun around to look at what Rick was staring at.
"Agent Kendall," Sark greeted. Immaculate in a suit, he let his eyes traipse the room with deliberate carelessness before returning to rest fully on the Director. "I must confess, it's much smaller than I thought it would be."
Kendall forced himself to focus. I didn't even hear him come in. "We're having all sorts of interesting walk-ins lately," he all but sneered. Turning away, he gestured for agents to take custody of the terrorist whom had inexplicably sauntered through the door.
"I wouldn't do this," Sark interceded, amused. He raised his hands in a show of mock submission.
"Oh?"
"I was invited," he smirked. "As an ally."
Kendall snorted. "By whom?"
"Agent Sydney Bristow."
"I need a break," Vaughn muttered.
"Understandable," Jack said, rising.
Vaughn afforded him a nod, pulling himself up and opening the door of the room.
And then he halted suddenly, without warning. Jack, who had been following him, almost walked right into the younger man's back.
"Agent Vaughn," Sark called across the room from where he stood with Kendall. "What a pleasant surprise to see you again."
Gaze growing darker with every step, Vaughn strolled deliberately towards his former captor. Even Kendall flinched at the unguarded rage in the agent's eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Vaughn asked icily.
Sark raised an eyebrow. "Have you not spoken with Sydney recently?" And then he flashed him a smirk. "Ah. Not allowed phone privileges? Mr. Sloane spoke of the questions regarding your loyalty. They were a great help to us."
That did it. With a quick glance at his two superiors, Vaughn grabbed Sark by his coat lapels and slammed him up against the nearest pole.
"Agent Vaughn," Jack said, amused in spite of himself.
"What are you doing here?" Vaughn repeated to Sark, voice growing colder, if at all possible.
"I'd suggest you call Sydney," Sark answered, unruffled. "If I were to tell you, I doubt you'd believe me."
"Agent Vaughn," Kendall prodded.
With one last slam, Vaughn released him. Still glaring furiously, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.
Two hours later
"I'm not without a sense of irony, Agent Vaughn." Kendall's voice was full of studious glee.
"What do you mean?" Vaughn asked warily. They sat in the debriefing room, waiting for Sydney to join them. Sark perched himself on a chair at the very end of the room, Jack keeping a steady gaze on him from his chair by the door.
"You are by far the most qualified handler in this taskforce. Per my directive, Sark will answer directly to you."
Vaughn's jaw dropped, incredulous. Sark's eyes narrowed.
"I'm here," Sydney's voice cut in, before either man could object. "Sorry. Aaron was getting a little upset that everyone seemed to be leaving."
"How's he doing now?" Vaughn asked, forgetting his astonishment at the thought of the innocent little boy mixed up in all this.
Sydney chuckled. "He's fine. Weiss pulled out your hockey stuff. I think they broke a lamp, but it was with good intentions, I swear."
"I'll send Rick to tell Elsa that her son is okay," Kendall interrupted. "Now, if you two don't mind…"
"Right," Sydney mumbled, turning her attention to the director, her father, and the terrorist that sat around the conference table.
"Sorry, sir," Vaughn apologized.
Sark shrugged. "I found your discussion quite enlightening," he put in. They ignored him.
"All right, Mr. Sark, here's the deal," Kendall began. "Compliance will earn you an immunity agreement. From here on out, you will answer any questions we have to the best of your ability and knowledge. You will also accept and perform any orders from any qualified operative, including and especially from your handler, Agent Vaughn."
Sydney jerked in surprise, turning to look at her boyfriend, who was currently spearing Sark with a look of such hatred that if looks could kill, Sark would have been dead and buried.
"There are of course other pieces to this deal that will be detailed after this session. But know this. Should you betray us or disobey any orders given, I will personally escort you to Camp Harris myself, and you never again see light of day. Am I understood?"
Sark, if anything, looked quite entertained by all the threats. "Of course, Agent Kendall. Shall I begin by getting you all tea?"
"Mrs. Caplan?"
Nervous and somewhat bewildered, Elsa looked wildly around the room Will had referred to as Operations.
"Mrs. Caplan?" the younger man repeated.
"Sorry," she said, focusing her attention.
"It's okay," he replied. "My name's Rick. Director Kendall and Senior Agent Bristow are both tied up in something, so we had to get someone else to debrief you. If that's okay?"
"Sure," she replied. What else is there to say?
"Okay," Rick repeated. "Listen, we've got a conference room set up for you and Brandon. Can I get you something to drink?"
Elsa followed the energetic young man automatically. "Brandon?"
"Yeah," Rick said, pushing his glasses back up. "It's kinda unexpected, I admit. Never had the NSA step up and ask to be included in a minor debrief before. Especially the Director of the NSA."
He began leading the way again. Swallowing hard, Elsa joined him.
"Obviously, your defection, if true, gives us a bit of an advantage," Kendall began. "Most notably your knowledge of Sloane's operations."
Sark waited. "I can't answer questions if you don't ask any," he said dryly.
"Sloane referred to an asset within the Agency," Vaughn said, his voice hard enough to cut through steel. "Who is it?"
"That I don't know," Sark answered, folding his hands in front of him.
"Of course," Vaughn replied. "Where's Derevko?"
Sark shrugged. Kendall glared at him. "Not a good start, Mr. Sark."
Sark glared right back, blue eyes turning into chips of ice. "That is enough, Director Kendall. I am not your subordinate and I will not be treated as such."
He allowed his gaze to roam around the room, noting with some satisfaction that all of the occupants, including Sydney, looked away. Only Jack could return it.
"Here is my 'deal'," he said shortly, pronouncing the American word with some difficulty. "I approached Sydney for a partnership that would give the CIA Arvin Sloane. Any loyalty I harbored towards him died with Allison. I will willingly and readily give you all the information I possess required to complete that task. But I am not turning myself in. Once we accomplish our objective, our working relationship will formally conclude."
Kendall snorted. "What makes you think I will allow that to happen? I have no qualms at all with taking you into custody after this meeting."
"Well, I could argue the ethical terms," Sark said. "But we'll stick with the realistics. You need me. Without me, you have no way at all of knowing what Mr. Sloane is planning. If I sense at all any lapses in your definition of cooperation in this partnership, I will have no qualms with withholding information that could could prove to be vitally important for your survival. I harbor no loyalties to your precious Agency, and will not bother to pretend otherwise. I am only here to ensure that Mr. Sloane pays for what he's done. I would think, Agents Bristow and Vaughn, that you would understand that."
"We could get any withheld information from interrogation at Camp Harris," Kendall returned.
"While that may be true," Sark replied, "doing so would be quite catastrophic for you Americans, I assure you."
"So now we're to the baseless threats," Sydney interjected.
Sark chuckled, recognizing the phrase. "Never, Agent Bristow." His gaze ticked to Vaughn. "Have you been debriefed yet?"
Vaughn eyed him stonily, not answering.
"Because if you have," Sark continued. "You would have mentioned the device Mr. Caplan was working so dutifully on. Did he tell you what it was he was doing?"
Vaughn sighed, forcing aside his emotions. Pull it together, Mike. You've got a job to do. "He said he was trying to figure out how to construct a Rambaldi device, and that it required very specific calculations."
"He was correct," Sark informed them. "What he was doing was building a high-energy pulse weapon which works like a microwave. It excites water and fat molecules which don't exist in inorganic materials and then it converts them into atomic motion or heat."
Sydney blinked, horrified.
"The machine can be targeted at certain radiuses. Everyone who falls within those areas literally melts from the inside out."
"So in exchange for us cooperating in this… partnership… you will tell us how to prevent such a weapon from being effective?"
Sark shook his head. "You don't understand, Director Kendall. This kind of energy will also knock out computer circuitry. Which means if it's pointed at the sky, it could take down planes. There's no defense against this kind of energy. It goes through walls, concrete, steel, everything."
"You haven't made an offer yet," Jack prodded impatiently.
"My apologies for the length of my explanation," Sark answered smoothly. He glanced at each of them. "In exchange for you honoring our agreement, I will arrange for that weapon to fall into your hands. I trust that is incentive enough for you?"
"What's to stop you from using that weapon for yourself instead?" Sydney demanded.
He looked straight at her. "I neither require nor desire such a device. I daresay I do fine on my own."
Sydney shuddered at that. Just when I think there's a shred of humanity in him…
"We're wasting time," Jack interrupted impatiently. "Sark, where is Neil Caplan?"
"We brought him back with us on the jet when we brought Agent Bristow to Los Angeles," Sark answered.
Vaughn sat up straight, stare piercing. "He's here?"
"He was," Sark replied. "Once Agent Bristow retrieved her mother, Mr. Sloane expected to present Mr. Caplan to her as a gift. A man with his intellect was a tool we both assumed she would appreciate having."
"So where is he now?" Vaughn demanded.
"We installed him in a safehouse outside of Malibu - but before you send operatives, don't waste American tax dollars. Before she was killed, Allison gave Irina his location. She has since retrieved him and moved him elsewhere."
"So you were working with my mother when you captured Vaughn and I?"
"No," Sark answered. "She had nothing to do with this." He glanced toward Sydney. "I meant what I said to you, Ms. Bristow. I would have dearly liked to work openly with her again, had your assigned Op been successful."
"We need answers," Kendall scowled. "And Mr. Sark, it appears we overestimated your usefulness. It seems as though Sloane is the only one that can answer things correctly."
"My departure from our partnership was hardly one that would encourage Mr. Sloane to welcome me back to get those answers," Sark explained dryly.
"Well you're just going have to get back in that 'partnership'," Kendall shot back.
Sark shrugged, leaning back lazily in the chair. "I do have an idea, though I doubt you would agree with its necessity."
"How's about you give us the chance to disagree then?" Sydney's voice was ice personified.
Sark inclined his head to her in a mocking salute. "Of course, Agent Bristow." His gaze changed. "Agent Vaughn."
He waited. Confused, Sydney and Vaughn exchanged glances.
"Continue," Jack prodded.
Sark shrugged again. "If I return to Sloane, I need to do so with proof that I am still an ally to him. I need a peace offering."
"Me." Vaughn's tone was flat.
"Indeed," Sark nodded. "Sydney would be the ideal choice, but you would be more logical in this case."
"Absolutely not!" Sydney snapped, outraged.
Sark ignored her. "We knew the guards had underestimated you when they failed to report in," he informed Vaughn mildly. "Because they knew confessing to such failure would have been nothing short of suicidal, they were doubtlessly opting to wait until you had been relocated. They could then acknowledge your temporary escape, but save their own lives by concluding they had recaptured you. Because of that, I highly doubt Mr. Sloane knows you have even left Spain. We could arrange for the guards to find you in the fields outside of the warehouse."
"And then contact you." Vaughn's tone had yet to show any sign of emotion.
"Yes," he affirmed. "In which case, I would of course return as well, and show my dedication to Mr. Sloane by contacting him instead of killing you outright. I trust you're capable enough to seem useful to him afterwards, until we have all the information we desire and the CIA retrieves you both."
"This is not even a poss - " Sydney was beyond livid, though at Sark for the suggestion or Vaughn for not immediately shooting it down, she wasn't sure.
Vaughn reached over and took her hand, completely not caring about Kendall or Jack's presence. "Why would I trust you that much, kid? What's to stop you from betraying all of us if we let you leave Operations?"
Sark bristled at the man's insolence. "He arranged for the death of the woman I loved," he answered shortly. "Even you should be able to understand that he needs to pay for that."
Vaughn lowered his eyes. Sydney froze. "You aren't seriously considering this, are you?"
"I didn't say you would have to remain a hostage," Sark continued. "Mr. Sloane and I generally found you useful because you could manipulate Sydney's actions. Why not use that to your advantage?" His tone was that of a teacher lecturing slower students.
Vaughn flinched, raising his head to meet Jack's carefully neutral gaze. There's our voucher, Jack. Sark.
"Um," Vaughn said awkwardly, after a moment. "I'd like to speak to Sydney alone for a minute."
Slowly, the other occupants filed out. Jack was the last, and Sydney watched with wide eyes as her father and her boyfriend exchanged an unreadable gaze. Whatever Vaughn was planning, Jack knew about it.
"Mrs. Caplan, I'm NSA Deputy Director Frederick Brandon. I know my presence here is not within the bounds of normal protocol, but you and I need to talk."
"About what?" Elsa asked nervously.
"How's about we start with the fact that one of my agents is married to you?"
"Vaughn," Sydney demanded. "Tell me you're not considering this!"
He flinched. "Syd - "
"Because if you are, you and I have issues to discuss!"
"Sydney, listen," Vaughn implored. "Do you remember what I said in the Focus? Don't put me ahead of the mission."
"What mission?" she exploded. "Don't patronize me. The only thing I heard from Sark is a sureproof way to get you killed!"
"Then you weren't listening," Vaughn shot back. Sydney's jaw dropped open. She could count on one hand the number of times her amiable boyfriend snapped at her. "Because what I heard, Sydney, is the best option available to us to take down Sloane and find Neil!"
"Why are you trusting Sark this much?"
He eyed her. "I wasn't the one who called him in, Syd."
"That's different!" she barked. "I wasn't putting my life at stake with that phone call!"
Vaughn put his hands on her shoulders. "Yes you were, Syd. The second you brought him in here, you risked taking responsibility for the lives of every officer in this taskforce, including you. And me. And your father. How is that any different from what I'm doing?"
"Because my phone call didn't send you off to Spain!"
"We need that weapon, Sydney," he sighed, leaning back in his chair. "And even I don't doubt Sark wants Sloane off the streets. And I won't abandon Neil."
Sydney shook her head. "Then I'll go," she determined. "Sloane will be willing to work with me."
Vaughn sighed. "Sydney, listen - "
"No, you listen," Sydney choked. Her eyes were filling with tears, but she didn't care. "I know it sounds selfish, but you know what? I've already lost Danny, and Francie… and my parents and I are so off…"
She leaned over, jerked him to her by his tie, and kissed him hungrily. Startled, Vaughn nevertheless responded to her, catching his breath when she pulled away with no warning.
"I will not lose you, too," she hissed. "You hear me? If that means I have to put you in the same cell they put me in, so be it. I couldn't stand it if… if…"
"Sydney, you're not going to lose me."
"Indeed," a new voice cut in.
They whirled, hands flying to their service pistols as reflex asserted itself over logic.
"Sark," Sydney growled, hand remaining on her gun as she blinked away her tears. "What are you doing in here?"
"I had a recollection," he informed her.
"Keep going," Vaughn prodded impatiently.
With almost careless grace, Sark pulled up a chair facing them. "After we landed, Agent Bristow, I informed Sloane of my doubts regarding the success of your mission." He rewarded them with a smug smile. "Doubts that proved true."
"How's about the point?" Sydney had yet to move her hand away from her pistol.
Sark shrugged. "Sloane was unconcerned. He informed he had another plan that would supercede any deliberate failures on your part."
"What kind of plan?" Vaughn asked warily.
"He felt that Sydney's sense of betrayal after her arrest because of you, Agent Vaughn, would cause her to return to him wanting answers," Sark replied. "He would later say that Allison's murder and Agent Vaughn's subsequent frame were also deliberately done to drive Sydney to him," he glanced at her. "He fervently believed that you would come to him willing to do whatever he asked to learn why so many people turned against you."
"That's ridiculous," Sydney dismissed, ignoring the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"As I thought," he agreed. "But there is no reason, Agent Bristow, why you couldn't join us in Spain after a reasonable amount of time, and allow Sloane's pride over his successful predictions blind him to the truth behind your actions."
Vaughn yanked his gun out of his shoulder holster, cocked it, and placed it on the table within instant gripping range. "Enough, Sark. What are you really doing here?"
"I've already told you," Sark didn't bother to attempt hiding his boredom at his "handler's" threats.
"You told us the story you came up with," Sydney said, laying her hand on top of Vaughn's.
"Which is the truth," Sark bit out.
Vaughn merely stared at him, waiting.
"Considering that I'm risking my freedom to do this," Sark snapped, "I would think my intentions are obvious."
The door opened, startling the three of them. Jack strode in, Kendall following with a speakerphone in hand. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" the director asked dryly, eyeing Vaughn's gun.
"No, sir," Vaughn mumbled, putting it away.
"Good." He answered. "Then you have a phone call to make to your men in Spain, Mr. Sark. Let's get things started."
"We knew he would be a target, Mrs. Caplan. We took the necessary precautions."
She stared at Brandon, stunned. "You're telling me he knew who I was. From day one."
"Yes."
She closed her eyes, fighting back tears. All this time, she had lived with years of guilt for the lies, the terror of predicting what would happen if he found out… but Neil had known all along.
And he had loved her anyway.
The phone clicked. Sydney and Vaughn exchanged glances. There was no turning back now.
"Hola."
"So someone there is alive," Sark snapped. "Why did you not check in?"
The man on the other end swallowed audibly. "Señor Sark - "
"Speak English, I'm not calling to exchange pleasantries," Sark interrupted impatiently. "Am I to assume you carried through with Mr. Sloane's orders?"
Silence. Sydney gripped Vaughn's hand harder. He's talking about killing Vaughn like it was a chore!
"There have been difficulties," the man answered at last.
Sark sat up, genuinely annoyed at the man's childish stalling. "What kind of difficulties?"
"The agent was able to escape into the fields," the man answered at last, terror at his failure apparent. "But do not worry, Mr. Sark. We will find him and complete the task."
Vaughn looked sharply at Sark. Showtime.
"No," Sark ordered.
"Sir?"
"Recapture and restrain him, yes, but do not kill him."
"Sir?" The man's confusion was apparent.
Sydney glared at Sark, silently adding another detail to the plan. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "And do not punish him, either," Sark added. "Rest assured that Mr. Sloane and I will exact our own version of retaliation on the agent for his defiance. I want him to be fully coherent when we do so."
"Sir, I do not under - "
"You don't need to understand," Sark snapped. "You just need to obey. Contact me when you have him in custody. I will inform Mr. Sloane myself. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." Sark hung up.
"All right," Kendall said heavily into the silence. "Agent Vaughn, we'll need to get you out there A.S.A.P., it's only a matter of time before the mole informs Sloane you did indeed leave Spain. Sark - you will wait in here until your men call you back."
Sark frowned.
"No argument," Kendall informed him curtly. "We wouldn't you to accidentally call them and change plans on us."
"Of course," he replied sardonically.
"Agent Vaughn, we have the clothing you were wearing in Evidence. You'll obviously need that back," Jack said brusquely. "We will arrange for the black Chevrolet to be waiting at the Embassy in Madrid for you."
"Okay," Vaughn nodded. "The gun I took with me is in my room… I'll have to go get it."
"You can't be seen here," Jack said, rising. "I'll have someone drive you over. They can then take you to the cargo plane."
He nodded again, reaching over to tuck the perpetually loose strand of Sydney's hair in place. "See you soon," he told her.
She smiled tremulously. "I'd better," she answered.
With one last glance, he was gone. Sydney drew in a deep breath. "I'm gonna go get some air," she said to the room in the general.
"Of course," Kendall answered, with what might have been sympathy in his tone. "Agent Bristow - "
She raised an eyebrow.
"I… just wanted to apologize. I stand by my actions, but I am guilty of putting suspicions ahead of facts. I was wrong to doubt you and Agent Vaughn without fully looking at evidence."
She forced a smile, genuinely touched, but too worried for it to really register. "Thank you, Director."
Eyes bright, Sark looked between them.
"I should - " she started.
"Me too," he answered. "A man will be joining you shortly, Mr. Sark."
With that, he left. Sydney waited patiently for him to turn the corner, and then walked back in the room purposely, without a hint of any emotion at all. Sark still sat there, bored, waiting for the guards to notify him.
"We need to talk," she told him shortly.
He cocked an eyebrow. "I daresay, Agent Bristow, I told you we'd work together again."
"Shut up," she snapped. "Listen to me. If something happens to Vaughn because of you, I'll - "
He sighed. "Sydney, I couldn't betray your precious boyfriend without betraying myself. In which case, Mr. Sloane would kill me."
She glared at him. "Anything Sloane could do to you won't compare to what I will do. If one hair on his head is harmed because of you, I will pay it back tenfold."
She turned to leave, but turned back.
"And I promise you, Sark, I won't be as merciful as Sloane. I'll make sure you're alive and fully coherent for every minute of my vengeance."
"You're back!" Aaron exclaimed.
"I am," Vaughn agreed, dropping the dry-cleaning bag on his couch.
"It's about time," Weiss drawled, frowning as his friend refused to look him in the eyes. "What's in the bag?"
Vaughn ignored him, bending down stiffly to give the waiting Aaron a hug. "Whatcha got there?" he asked curiously.
"Cars," Aaron grinned, running one up the black sleeve of his suit jacket.
"Very neat," Vaughn told him.
Will chose that moment to enter the living room, eyes red. "Hey."
"Hey," Vaughn answered. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he said heavily. "I will be. Where's Sydney?"
Aaron tugged on his jacket. "At Operations," he answered, giving the little boy his attention again. "What's up, buddy?"
"Where's Mommy?"
"She's…" Vaughn paused. How exactly did one tell a little boy his mother was being debriefed by people still not certain of her allegiance? "She's working on something," he said lamely. "She'll be back soon, okay?"
Aaron shrugged, lips pursed as he vroomed the Matchbox car up Vaughn's suit sleeve again. "Okay."
"Aaron," Will cut in, "I think these two need to talk about something. Why don't we go see what food Mr. Vaughn has?"
As Vaughn raised an eyebrow at the term of address, Aaron stood up from where he'd mimicked Vaughn's crouch on the floor. "Only if there's ice cream," the little boy answered seriously.
"Uh, yeah," Vaughn said. "There should be."
"Okay then," Aaron agreed brightly. He reached up a chubby hand and rested the little red car in Vaughn's hand. "Hold that for me," he ordered. "Don't wanna get it dirty."
Weiss smirked.
"I'll take good care of it," Vaughn said solemnly.
With one more nod, Aaron was gone. Amused, Vaughn rose and turned to Eric. "Mr. Vaughn? He makes me sound like a teacher."
"Blame Elsa," Weiss drawled. "Mothers, man."
Vaughn smiled at that. His mother had insisted upon the same thing. In English and French.
"But anyway," Weiss continued. "What's in the bag, Mike?"
Vaughn grimaced. He's going to have to find out sooner or later.
"Clothes," he stalled.
"Yes, thank you," Weiss replied, eyes narrowing. You're a terrible liar, Mike. Without a word, he bypassed Michael entirely and snatched up the bag before his friend could intercept him.
"Eric!" Vaughn protested.
Weiss raised an eyebrow at the all-too-familiar, bullet-hole-emblazoned blue silk shirt that was inside the garment bag. "You know, most people don't dry clean stuff before they throw them away."
Vaughn flushed. "I'm not."
"Oh?" Weiss' suspicions were growing. No. Mike's not crazy.
His friend visibly gulped. "Eric," he managed to say. "I have to get something from my room. Come with me, there's something you should know."
"You said you had an offer for me."
"Indeed," Irina agreed. "Do you know what that device is capable of, Mr. Caplan?"
"No," he lied. She smiled at him again.
"Sloane is scheduled to activate the device at a certain time as specified by Rambaldi. He will then pinpoint it at the area of his choosing. Everyone within that target will die."
"Los Angeles," Caplan choked out, horrified.
"Yes," Irina affirmed. "My offer is simple, Mr. Caplan. I wish for you to figure out a way to ensure that certain people within that area are not affected by the device you constructed."
She leaned forward. "Do that, and I will allow you to add your wife and son to the list of those spared."
"That's not a plan, Mike! That's suicide!"
"Eric, you're not listening to me - "
"No," Weiss cut him off. "The problem is that I am listening. So let me get this straight. You go back to Spain and get recaptured. But that's okay, because Sark has called ahead to ensure that you're spared. The guards then call Sark, who comes for you and then contacts Sloane. Sark then gives you to Sloane as a peace offering. And you then convince the former head of SD-6 that you are willing to work with him to clear your name? And hope to run across Derevko and Caplan in the process, all the while knowing that if Sark betrays you, you're toast? No, that's not insane at all."
"It is the best way to - "
"To get yourself killed!" Weiss exploded. "No. No. You just got out of almost dying, and you want to go back? How many times did they hit you on the head again?"
"Eric - "
"Mike, if you go through with this I'll kill you myself. At least that way it'll be painless! What the hell is wrong with you?"
The doorbell rang. "That's Craig," Vaughn mumbled. "Eric - "
Weiss turned away, shaking his head.
"Fine," Vaughn sighed. Reluctantly, he unfastened his shoulder holster and dropped it on the couch, picking up the heavy automatic rifle in the process.
"Take care of yourself," Weiss mumbled as Vaughn headed for the door, setting the little red car on the couch before doing so.
"What?"
"You heard me."
Vaughn nodded to him, reaching down and picking up the garment bag. "Take care of her for me," he whispered. "Especially if - "
"I will," Weiss vowed.
His younger friend gave him a tremulous smile, before turning on his heel and heading down the stairs to his ride.
"Everything is on schedule."
"Good. See to it that he is not harmed, Sark. I wouldn't do that to Sydney."
"As ordered, Ms. Derevko."
Up next: Neil's tracker is activated and Vaughn finds himself the victim of a cliché. See you in a week!
Review Responses:
Dude! You guys gave me like 30 for the last chapter! I love you all to pieces! And I am so sorry for my delay in posting, because I definitely should have posted this Saturday! My teacher for one of online classes decided to give us a surprise, due-the-same-day 1000 word essay, and then as I looked over my massive 17 page chapter, I found a huge plot hole that took another 5 pages to fill. So I was late. But… but… I gave you a 22 page chapter, I hope that makes up for it! And no, I'm not deliberately pointing out how long this is. It's not like I'm in shock over it or anything. ;)
And if you've read the above babblings, thank you! Due to length, the Review Responses will be posted separately tomorrow. Just 'cause I just finished polishing this whole long thing and haven't slept in 2 days and would not be able to give you guys the responses you deserved!
See you guys tomorrow for review responses and in a week for Chapter 33!