"You wanted to talk to me?"
She stood in the Villa's garden, still fighting disbelief at the sight of the woman alive and well and sitting on a wooden bench in front of her.
"Sydney." Emily swallowed, nervousness apparent. She patted the bench. "Join me?"
"I'll stand."
"Sydney - "
"I spoke at your funeral," she blurted. I grieved you. I cried for you.
"Arvin told me." I'm sorry, Sydney. I'm so sorry.
Wordlessly, Sydney joined her on the bench while her escort/guard hovered in the back. They watched the sun come up in utter silence.
"I never wanted to put you through that, but Arvin and I had no choice," Emily whispered as light finished bathing the garden. "The Alliance had to believe I was dead."
"You knew about his involvement with the Alliance and you stayed with him?"
"I know this is difficult for you to understand, but when I found out I had cancer, Arvin was my tether to hope; to survival. And when I went into remission, he told me the truth. He asked for my forgiveness and promised he would make things right. He's been my whole world for thirty years… he saved my life. I couldn't deny my husband a second chance."
"Except nothing's changed. I'm assuming that's why you're here," Sydney didn't bother to refrain from rolling her eyes. I trusted you, Emily.
"He told me his plan; to find out what this man Rambaldi was working on. He rationalizes what he's done. He says he's doing it for us, for me."
"And you believed that."
"I did," she murmured. "But I don't now."
"Agent Weiss - "
"I know it's insane," Eric said shortly. "I know it might get me in trouble with counter-intelligence. But I don't care."
Dixon grabbed the younger man by the shoulders, peering into his eyes. "Look. I know you're worried. I am, too. But if you go over there, kid, you might make things worse!"
Weiss started at him incredulously. "How could things be worse? He couldn't breathe!"
"He could be dead," Dixon answered, not bothering to mince words. "And if you go over there and interfere with what he's doing without authorization, you could kill both of them."
"What do you mean?"
Emily shook her head, leaning over to cup Sydney's face. She didn't pull away.
"I don't know who he is anymore," she choked. "He is the man I love… but he's a man I would hate if I didn't love him."
"And that frightens you," Sydney said. She understood more than Emily probably realized. Irina Derevko was manipulative, cold, merciless and distant.
But she was still her mother.
Emily smiled. "I'm so proud of you," she told her. "So proud. You have a life. You have a man you love, and that loves you. You're going to be fine. I just… I guess I wanted to tell you that."
The guard behind them stiffened. Sydney took a deep breath. The words meant more than she could ever say.
But they could also kill them both.
"You're wrong," she replied. "Vaughn, he - "
"He'll be fine," Emily assured her.
"No," Sydney forced herself to say, for the guard's benefit. "He won't be. He killed my friend, Emily. I came here to make sure he pays for that."
Weiss ripped himself out of Dixon's very father-like grip, sinking down into his chair. After a moment, Dixon perched himself on the desk.
"Have you spoken to Jack?"
"Yeah," Weiss mumbled. "He told me I was being impetuous and ignoring logic. 'We need that weapon, Agent Weiss. It's dangerous, Agent Weiss. We need to know where Derevko is before we take Sloane, Agent Weiss. And other crap.'"
The recitation was so deadpan that Dixon couldn't help but grin. "Where is he now?"
Weiss shrugged. "Kendall got a phone call and waved for Jack to join him. Haven't seen him since."
With lazy grace, Diego keyed open the door to the hidden room, glancing over his shoulder to insure that Mrs. Sloane was behind him. The two doors opened swiftly, granting him entrance to the clinical-smelling room.
His brother's murderer still lay strapped to a cot, fast asleep. Tubes helped him breathe, sensors monitored his every heartbeat, and the IV in his arm controlled when he was allowed to awaken. With amused pleasure Diego headed towards the agent, turned down the constant sedative, and shook him hard by the shoulder.
"Despierte," he ordered, while the other man gasped in startled pain. ("Wake up.")
Vaughn forced himself to open his eyes, heart racing as he met the guard's sadistic smile - a smile that widened when his monitor betrayed him and beeped faster.
"That's enough," Emily ordered sharply from behind him. Both men straightened at her tone. "I can take it from here."
"Mrs. Sloane - " Diego hedged, remembering to use English. "It's not safe - "
"- to be alone with the very dangerous prisoner?" Emily's scorn was thick enough to cut through steel. "Because he certainly looks like he'd jump off the cot he's tied to and attack me. What would I ever do without you to protect me?"
To his credit the man obeyed, shooting a hateful look at Vaughn as he left. Vaughn groaned inwardly. Great. Exactly what I needed.
For her part, Emily approached with almost awkward grace, looking down at him nervously. "Are you all right?"
He hesitated, weighing his response. The question was either ridiculously ludicrous or ridiculously innocent.
Either way, it meant Emily Sloane.
"I'm fine," he answered lamely.
She laughed. It was the sound of tinkling bells, and so out of place that he couldn't help but smile back.
"I didn't mean overall, Michael," she stopped. "Can I call you that?"
He nodded.
"I meant… just now… he didn't make you rip any wounds, did he?"
"Oh," he answered, eyes widening. That hadn't even occurred to him. "I don't think so."
She rested a hand on his shoulder, sinking down on the chair beside him. "I'm going to have someone come and take a look, just to be safe. You'll have to have your bandages changed eventually, anyway."
"Okay," he answered slowly when she stopped, wondering if she was waiting for a reply.
She shook her head. "What are you doing here? I let you go!" she touched one of his restraints, pulling away swiftly in distaste. "I sent you home! Why are you here? Who did this to you? Talk to me!"
He opened his mouth to reply, but she cut him off. "I talked to Sydney. She can do many things, Michael, but I have grown to learn when I am being lied to. She's up to something, and so are you."
He was waiting for her at his kitchen table, of all things. Wearing glasses and skimming a newspaper, with slippers and casual clothes, he looked for all the world like a grandfather relaxing after just waking up.
"Good morning," she forced herself to say.
Arvin Sloane lowered his paper, flashing her a smile. "Good morning, dear Sydney," he answered warmly, waving her guard away. "Did you and Mr. Vaughn come to an understanding?"
"Something like that," she replied.
He waved her into a chair, folding the paper neatly into squares. "I am sorry you had to talk to him. I promise you that once we learn all we need to know, you won't ever have to see him again."
She smiled. "Can't wait."
He chuckled. "Of course, that depends on the condition you left him in when you were finished coming to an understanding."
"Unconscious," Sydney mused truthfully. He had better be, anyway. If he wasn't resting, she really would return and make him.
"Just unconscious?" his chuckles grew. She smiled at him again, unsure of what to say.
"Listen, Sydney," Sloane said, reaching across the table and taking her hand. "I know you want to know why everyone seemingly turned their backs on you. And whatever I can do to help, I will. But first, you must do something for me."
"What's that?" she fought to keep her tone neutral.
"The Rambaldi book," he said mildly. "The CIA has it. Agent Vaughn can be made to tell us how to get to it. Get that book for me, Sydney, and I will help you however I can."
"Listen. I understand what you're saying - "
"Clearly you don't, Director Kendall. You don't need to 'understand' what I'm saying. You answer to me."
Kendall groaned inaudibly, passing a hand over his eyes. He sat with Jack Bristow in a conference room, speaking to a man via speaker phone that he wouldn't have wished on his worst enemy.
"Of course, Director Lindsay," Jack spoke up, somehow sounding soothing and mocking at the same time.
"We're just a little thrown about this," Kendall clarified. "You are telling us to end a potentially successful and fully sanctioned taskforce mission without any reason at all."
"My orders are enough of a reason," the man snapped. "But I'll humor you. Your mission is jeopardizing ours. We have an SIS member working directly for the NSC over there, and this haphazard and foolhardy idea will kill her."
"Oh?" Jack raised an eyebrow.
"My orders are simple, Direct Kendall. Pull out your agents or cut them loose, whichever can be handled with the most subtlety. Ms. Reed will accomplish your objective for you, anyway."
"I - "
She leaned closer to him. "You can talk to me," she urged. "I swear it will stay in this room."
"Mrs. Sloane - "
"Emily, Michael."
"Emily, I - " he sighed. "Do you really want to do this?"
"My husband lied to me for years," she replied. "It's about time I returned the favor. It's all right, Michael. Tell me."
He hedged, mind tracking wildly. He trusted Emily - but he knew first-hand that logic meant little when talking to Arvin Sloane's wife.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, hating himself for how her face fell. "But I have no idea what you're talking about."
Erm, yeah. I'm a spaz. I could've sworn I updated this like a week ago, but it apparently didn't go through. So sorry!
But hey, in consolation, you get two chapters! This one AND today's update. ;) So click ahead to the next chapter and enjoy!