She wondered if it was possible to forget how to breathe.
Elsa ducked her head, allowing her blonde hair to hang in her eyes as she fought to pull herself together. The cruelties that the terrorists were capable of… it alternately chilled and boiled her blood.
And if she felt this way, how could Sydney possibly not fall apart?
Still hiding behind her hair in a room full of people that were technically her enemies, Elsa glanced at the young woman. Sydney sat tense and upright, hands knotted into fists underneath the table, jaw clenched and body ready for action. She had appeared noticeably more relaxed after stepping out for a moment, but Sloane's order and Vaughn's subsequent action had ended that.
She understand that. God, she understood that. She had prayed desperately that news of her husband would surface. She had been convinced the bug in Sark would reveal something, that the young man would begin to right his wrongs. And she had been wrong.
Neil had simply disappeared. Was that good? Did it mean he escaped? Or did it mean… did it mean that he…?
No. She took a deep breath, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. No. Neil was coming home. Her little family would once more be whole.
No matter what she had to do to make that happen.
"Diane, I love you," Dixon said quietly. "I love you so much. And it killed me not to say anything!" He leaned forward, taking her hand. "I haven't slept well in all the years we've been married. I wanted to tell you… I hated myself for lying to you! But I didn't have a choice."
She nodded. "Marcus…"
He looked at her, love and hope shining in his eyes. Deliberately, she placed her other hand on top of his. "When you first told me the truth, I said I don't know who you were. I was wrong," she told him. "I just didn't know what you did. I have always known who you are."
"Oh, Diane…" he choked.
"Before I could accept what you did, Marcus, I had to understand it. I do now. I love you. Come home."
As if on cue his pager sounded, ending their moment. Dixon looked at his wife sheepishly.
"Go," she ordered. "I'll be here when you're finished saving the world."
Grinning like a fool, he stood up and kissed her passionately. "I love you," he said again.
"I love you," she replied fervently.
The gun clicked, echoing around the room the same way a shot would have.
If it had been loaded.
With a sardonic smile, Vaughn tossed the shell of a weapon back to Sark, who caught it without batting an eye. Reaching into his jacket, the younger man reloaded the revolver and then replaced it in his shoulder holster.
Sloane, meanwhile, applauded. The man was virtually beaming.
"Well done," he congratulated, chuckling. "Well done. I promise that was the final test." He glanced over at the blonde, who was also standing with careless insolence in her stance, though Vaughn could see the terror and astonishment warring in her eyes.
"You have my apologies," Sloane said to her. "I thought the test would have been skewed if my orders had been to kill someone Mr. Vaughn would not have thought twice about. You may have tortured him, but the agent is of European blood and would hesitate before shooting a woman." Diego held his gun tighter at that.
Vaughn scowled inwardly as his breathing became more erratic. Wondering if his movements had damaged something further, he forced himself to sit upright, chin high.
And then a stabbing pain ignited in his upper chest. Puzzled Vaughn looked down… and then sucked in a breath, horrified.
The strap Irina had removed had been edged with metal on both sides. It was one of the reasons why they had been so painful…
But the stress of the flogging and his later thrashing had apparently been enough to rub off a small piece of one side of the metal off the leather… and skewer him. No wonder he was having trouble breathing. At the moment the metal, unnoticeable against his dark blue (and red) shirt unless he looked for it, was doubtlessly puncturing a lung. And every move he made only embedded it farther.
Sloane was talking. Trying desperately to sit as still as possible, Vaughn forced himself to focus.
"So here's where we go from here," he said. "Irina, you have your duties with Caplan."
She nodded. A spark of something clenched her jaw, but it was controlled and hidden once more in the blink of an eye.
"And Mr. Vaughn, we have a room we can set up to allow you to recover a bit," Sloane added, while Vaughn's breathing hitched uncontrollably again. The room spun, his lack of oxygen making him dizzy. "After that, we'll talk further about what exactly you have to offer me."
At those words, the conference room exploded into action.
"It's a go," Kendall called out the door into the main room.
That room exploded, too.
Checking his watch, Sloane nodded to Diego. Vaughn gritted his teeth as the ever-present syringe made an appearance, though he knew it would probably be more painful if he was awake when they moved him.
"Indulge me," Sloane said to him as the guard stepped toward him, needle ready.
Vaughn raised an eyebrow, waiting.
"How did you know Mr. Sark's revolver was not loaded?"
He managed a smile. The world was spinning even more crazily and even if Diego didn't sedate him, he knew he only had minutes before he finally passed out.
"Had it been loaded, Mr. Sloane, it would have been too heavy for me to hold right now."
She was not a demanding person. For the most part, anyway. But right now, she'd give away all she knew about national security for one hair tie.
Sydney stood by the cargo plane, the gun her mother had used to kill Allison Doren strapped to her leg. Los Angeles, normally even as far as weather was concerned, had decided today to try out 40 mile-per-hour winds. She had never hated her hair so much.
Her father stood by the pilot, deep in conversation. Doubtlessly one she should be having, though Jack had apparently determined her concern for Vaughn would cancel out any caution she had. Touching and maddening, all at the same time.
And yet, admittingly, probably true. Vaughn had a frightening habit of ignoring any and all common sense warnings when she needed him. Why wouldn't it be the other way around?
So for now, she leaned against the plane and envisioned the many ways all of them would pay for daring to hurt the man she loved. Footsteps snapped her out of those rather enjoyable thoughts, and she watched as her father approached with a stet phone in hand.
He held it out. "Just as a precaution," he said. She nodded and took it, sliding it underneath her shirt.
And then they just stood there.
"Sydney - " Jack began.
She looked up at him, hearing the alien catch in his voice. He cleared his throat. "Sydney," he said again. "Just…" he took a deep breath. "Be careful out there. Watch your back."
"I will," she promised. "The next time you see me, Sloane will be in chains and Vaughn and I will walk off the plane together."
He gave her a half-smile. "I'd hope you would have called me first."
On impulse, she hugged him. After a moment, he returned it.
"Take care of yourself," she told him, starting to pull away.
He nodded. "Sydney?"
She turned.
"I… I'm very proud of you. And what you're doing here."
Blinking back tears, she flung herself at him again. This time, there was no hesitation before he returned it.
"I love you, Dad," she told him.
"I love you, sweetheart," he replied.
- to be continued -
Have a bonus chapter! You guys went nuts with the reviews! I'm over 500! THANK YOU! (And a very special welcome to all the new readers!)
-Jinnie