He was not a dreamer.
His life was practical. Logical. From the day his father died to now, Michael Vaughn had never been anything less.
Until now.
Helpless and recovering in a hospital bed, Vaughn had suddenly found himself dreaming. Each one was worse than the last. In his dreams, he was not the one tortured.
Sydney!
In his dreams, he did not hold firm. He broke. Easily. Immediately.
Stop it, please! I'll do anything! Don't hurt her!
In his dreams, his worst terrors came to life.
You never loved me, Vaughn! If you did, you'd stop this! You'd make them stop!
Sometimes she died. Sometimes he died, too. But she always died first.
A true gentleman permits the ladies to go first, Mr. Vaughn. You can do what you've been doing. Watch.
And then he'd wake up, drenched in sweat, injured body on fire from thrashing, heart monitor beeping louder than any alarm clock.
After two days, doctors replaced the restraints with his permission, explaining that his "episodes" were the reason why they had kept him bound during his coma.
After four days, Amélie refused to leave his side. She would sleep during the day and sit with him at night, holding his hand and countering his nightmares with her soft, gentle lilt.
"Votre maman est ici, mon petit. Sommeil, Michel. Vous allez bien. Elle va bien. Sommeil," she would soothe by repeating endlessly, blinking back tears of horror and rage at what she was witnessing. ("Your mommy is here, my little one. Sleep, Michel. You are fine. She is fine. Sleep.")
He had never seen his mother cry. Not when his father died, not when he left home to explore the world and follow William Vaughn's footsteps, not when they visited his grave together. Not once.
Until now.
"You could say thank you," Sark said as they sauntered toward Sloane's vacation home.
"Or I couldn't," she retorted. "I prefer that option, thank you."
He chuckled. "Come now, Sydney," he lectured. "I saved your life. Surely gratitude for my actions are not beneath your attention."
She did smile at him then.
"You always will be," she answered.
"Excuse me, Director Kendall!"
He turned from consulting with his three counterparts, raising an eyebrow.
"There's a phone call for you, sir."
"Who?" Lindsay interrupted, folding his arms across his chest. Kendall gritted his teeth at the man's blatant rudeness.
"Neil Caplan, sir - uh, sirs. He claims to have been released."
Brandon froze. Back from the hospital and sitting out of the way, a stunned Elsa bolted upright.
Sydney stepped quietly, heels from her disguise tapping the wooden floor. The knapsack she cradled to her chest. Sark strode next to her, somehow moving with fluid silence. Cloaked in black, the younger man had a presence beyond his years.
Just as he had seemed when he'd…
I've got you, Sydney! Hold on!
It had been a trick, of course. A setup. Sark would never willingly…
It had taken them four days to mesh themselves into the social circle of the town patriarch that controlled the NSA's hiding place, posing as young marrieds. And then another precious 24 hours for him to confirm with his superiors that he was to cooperate, for Neil Caplan's sake.
News of Rambaldi's manuscript out of lockdown would make them a target of every major terrorist group. As much as Sydney had hated the delay, not doing so would have cost two innocent lives.
But the clearance had come, leaving the two reluctant allies to "break into" the vault underneath the house. It should have been simple and easy, something both could have done in their sleep.
But it hadn't been. And then Sark had saved her life, leaving her torn between genuine gratitude and burning hatred.
The ride to the airport was the longest stretch of time Elsa would ever encounter. She shifted restlessly in the seat, willing the driver to go faster. Her joy was so tremendous that obvious questions - Why would Irina Derevko just let him go? - weren't even computing.
After Rick's announcement, Brandon had snatched the phone. Elsa had watched, heart swelling, as her husband confirmed his identity and his freedom with long-remembered vocal passcodes.
With no reason to do otherwise, Kendall had then commissioned a van to meet Neil's plane. And here she sat, heart in her throat and hands in her lap. Will and Aaron would meet her there.
Please, let this be real, she thought. Please.
"The vault is buried in a subbasement level of the mansion. To reach it, we actually have to drop into a 30 foot hole, using a trapdoor. The floor of the vault is presumably concrete…"
"I know."
"Sydney. To do this, we have to trust each other."
"Never. I trust your survival instincts, Sark. Not you."
"I hardly think I am so undeserving."
"I'm really broken up about that."
"Mommy!" Aaron crowed, flying across the grass field and into her arms. "Daddy came home from work! Mr. Will said so!"
"It feels like an odd word choice," Will said, catching up. "But uh, congratulations. I'm very happy for you."
She laughed and still gripping her son, hugged Sydney's good friend. "Thanks for everything," she told him sincerely. He smiled at her.
The plane's door opened and Neil appeared. One moment he was across the field from her, studying his family as though they were nothing more than a cruel illusion.
And then he was in his wife's arms, their son sandwiched between them and the rest of their audience politely heading back to the vans to grant them privacy.
"I love you," Elsa sobbed, showering him with kisses. "God, I love you so much!"
Aaron looked up at his father, tiny finger raised in stern admonishment. "It's about time you came home, Daddy!" he lectured.
Then and only then did Neil Caplan allow himself to cry.
"Agent Bristow, if you like, you may lower me down."
"Right, Sark. Because I trust you in a vault full of who-knows-what."
"Ah, but it would have made me less a gentleman to not offer. When you're ready?"
"I am."
"It's just a scratch, Elsa," Neil assured his wife as she sat holding his other hand, watching a nurse clean and bandage the wound on his lower left arm.
A wound he had been forced to endure because of who she truly was. "Neil - "
Glancing apologetically at the nurse for moving, he leaned over and kissed her. "Later," he said simply. All he wanted to do for the moment was enjoy his wife's presence. And his son's. Speaking of which…
"Where's Aaron?"
"Oh!" Elsa realized. "He's probably with Mr. Mike."
"Who?"
"Sark! What the hell are you doing up there?"
"The cable slipped!"
"Then dammit, catch it!"
"Trying! There's grease on it!"
"Sark!"
"I've got you, Sydney! Hold on!"
"An' fishin' an' hikin' an' campfires an' walks an' drives an' reading an' even homework!" Aaron rambled. "Daddy's back! He said we'll do everything!"
"Sounds great, buddy," Vaughn chuckled, cherishing the feeling of breathing on his own. Doctors had removed both the mask and the follow-up tubes just before the Caplans arrived, as a sort of test to to gauge where he stood. They had also mercifully removed the restraints before the little boy could see them. Not hooked up to anything for the first time in nearly two months, Vaughn could almost pretend he was back home in his own bed.
Amélie laughed, propping Aaron up on her lap from where she sat in a chair next to her son.
"You are so precious," she grinned.
"I know," Aaron answered primly.
A knock on the door startled the three of them, and Aaron all but leapt from Amélie's lap to dash to his father.
"I missed you!" he sang out.
"Me, too," Neil laughed, cheer fading when he saw Vaughn lying on a hospital bed in front of him. "Could you - " he asked the other people in the room. Elsa, Aaron and Amélie left wordlessly, with Vaughn's mother lightly squeezing his shoulder as she rose from the chair.
"Hi," Neil said lamely.
"Hi," Vaughn replied.
"So," Neil said, sinking into the warm chair and gesturing haphazardly at the medical equipment. "What's all this?"
"Annoying," Vaughn muttered.
He laughed at that.
"How are you?" Vaughn asked, not bothering to hide his anxiety. "When they took you out of that room…"
"I woke up on a broken mattress," he said. "In Irina Derevko's custody."
Vaughn raised an eyebrow.
"She told me she had a job for me to do, and if I did it, she'd let me go. I didn't believe her, of course. Not until she told me what she wanted me to do."
"A job?"
"Yeah," Neil said, shaking his head. He leaned forward, realizing Vaughn, currently elevated on pillows, was struggling to turn towards him. "Countering the device I built. Not overall, mind you, but for seven people. Seven out of four million."
"Who?"
"You, Sydney and Jack Bristow, myself, Aaron, Elsa and a woman named Lauren Reed."
"I'm so happy for you," Amélie gushed, engulfing Elsa in a hug.
"Thanks," Elsa smiled. "I just…. we have a lot to talk about, but we both…"
"Bask in the moment," Amélie advised. "Your son can stay with us or Mr. Tippin."
"Speaking of sons," Elsa changed the subject, her blush a dead giveaway that she had every intention of following Amelie's suggestion, "how's Michael doing?"
She paused, the slightest hint of a frown marring her face. "Michel is rapidly improving, according to the doctors. He can sit up without assistance and seems to be breathing easier. He also stays constantly in motion; the doctors said that if we were to let him, he could stand or even walk on his own. As you saw, they actually removed all the tubes and IV needles for some random testing to see how he does on his own, and he has built up to four hours of breathing without assistance."
"That's wonderful!" Elsa exclaimed, wondering at Amélie's less-than-happy mood.
The older woman nodded. "It should be," she murmured to herself.
"Amélie?" Elsa ventured.
She sighed. "Whatever was done to Michel was… severe," she said at length. "He is fine when he's awake, but when he sleeps… he relives every moment. That's what I meant by staying in motion… he thrashes around so extremely that we have to restrain him at night."
She paled. "I didn't know," Elsa stammered. "I'm sorry."
She chuckled. "Nothing to apologize for. I - " she hesitated.
Elsa waited.
"I don't want to invade on your family, you've been through enough," Amélie whispered. "But from what Michel says aloud when he dreams… he never broke. He never gave his captors the privilege of hearing him beg. He just sat there and took whatever those horrible people dolled out, because he thought that Sydney Bristow might be forced to pay for any defiance on his part. He truly is William's son, and words cannot express how proud I am to call him mine."
The younger woman shook her head, tears in her eyes.
"I'm not foolish," Amélie said bluntly. "I know what he really endured, and I know what he truly does for a profession. I musn't say that, of course, because he believes he's protecting me by lying to me. But by holding back on what he experienced… he's only hurting himself more. And he doesn't care! The doctors have threatened to sedate him, the one thing he remains afraid of, because he simply refuses to relax and heal! All he cares about is that woman, regardless of what that does to his own health!"
"I know how that feels," Elsa spoke before she could stop herself. "So does Neil."
"I know," Vaughn's mother replied, somewhat dryly. "That's why I meant to ask… you can help him, Elsa. I'm his mother, but your family… you understand some elements of his life that I do not. That I cannot. That I will not. Once again, not meaning to intrude, but…"
In response, Elsa engulfed her in a hug. "Your son saved all of our lives," she shared, knowing lies would cheapen her promise. "We'll do whatever we can."
"That doesn't make any sense," Vaughn stammered, astonished. "How… why…?"
Neil sighed, all but crushing his hands in his lap. "There's more," he muttered. "Irina let me have access to whatever I wanted to complete my task… she knew I wouldn't try anything with my family's lives on the line. I got all the information I could on this Reed woman, the only name I didn't recognize. She's working for Irina, which is why she was spared, but she's also working for herself."
Lauren was working for Irina. Vaughn closed his eyes, suddenly even more exhausted. He had thought he met an ally, but he had been wrong. Very much so. Another thought occurred to him and he frowned, trying to puzzle it out. Why keep him alive? Why help him? For something Irina needed?
For his part Neil waited, wondering if he shouldn't have elaborated until Vaughn was a bit stronger. When several seconds ticked by without response, he moved to rise, thinking that the younger man had fallen asleep.
Meanwhile, Vaughn busily accessed all his memories concerning Lauren, from the first time they met and she had shown him mercy, to her talk with Sydney in the hidden room, to her seemingly genuine concern for him just hours prior. He had thought she was holding something back then, but her news about Sydney caused him to forget.
"She wants revenge," he spoke up, stopping Neil in mid-step. "McKenas Cole killed her partner, and I know where he's held." Which means she's still a mole for Irina, but possibly only for her quest to get even. She's not evil.
"He did," Neil agreed. "But McKenas Cole, though she denies it by using her mother's name, is also Lauren Reed's biological brother."
Vaughn clenched his hands into fists. Cole had almost killed Sydney and Jack, had dismissed the lives of the SD-6's duped (and knowledgeable) staff, had risked all for a bottle of Rambaldi liquid.
Cole would have killed Sydney before he, Vaughn, would have known what exactly he had lost.
The man was a monster that deserved his cell, but Vaughn owed his life and his freedom to a woman that had clearly meant to use him to find said terrorist. And either kill him or free him.
"Look," Neil said uneasily. "I should have waited, I'm sorry. I just got out, but you… what happened, Michael?"
"I tried to escape," Vaughn said, opting for the easier story that took less time to explain. "After they took you out of the room. I wasn't successful."
Neil said nothing. That contradicted with what Irina had told him… but well, everyone had secrets. Spies even more so. "And you met Reed?" he asked, wondering at Michael's reaction.
"She kept me alive," Vaughn said, voice distant as he puzzled over it. "And she made it possible for the Agency to pull me out."
"Is she here?"
"Debrief."
Neil nodded. "You know," he said, hoping this made up for his knowledge-sharing gaffe. "The other agent - uh, Eric Weiss - went back to the office."
Vaughn didn't blink. After learning Weiss had lied to him, Vaughn had talked to his guards and banned his best friend from his room, stunned and infuriated at the betrayal.
"And Elsa and Aaron and your mother all went to grab a bite," Neil continued. "And even I outrank the two marshals outside your door."
The light dawned.
"Only if I think you're up to it," Neil warned him. "But you could… step out for air. And in the process, happen to wander to wherever your Operations is. For answers."
"They'd still notice the bed was empty," Vaughn replied dryly. "They might wonder where I went off to."
Neil shrugged. "I'm up for a nap. I'll stay here and explain. A head start for you, anyway."
Vaughn nodded, not needing to argue. "I owe you one," he muttered.
Neil chuckled, watching the younger man move gingerly to dangle his legs off the bed.
His mother had been right, Vaughn thought, his thrashing while asleep was far more effective than any physical therapy. He stood easily.
"Here," Neil said, tossing a clothing bag on the bed from where someone had stuck it on an unoccupied bed next to his. Vaughn unzipped it, puzzled, and raised an eyebrow at the suit inside.
"Mine," he said, wondering how it had gotten here. Moving slowly as to not aggravate his back, Vaughn bent and picked it up by the hanger.
"I'll come back in 10 for the jailbreak," Neil said.
And then he left to find his wife and prepare her a little for Amélie's reaction.
"Ah, Sydney! Mr. Sark!"
They pasted smiles on their faces, strolling together to join the couple relaxing on a couch. Both looked to be well-tanned and rested, ice cold drinks cradled in their hands.
"Sydney!" Emily exclaimed.
She ignored the woman, though Sark inclined his head gallantly.
"A gift, Mr. Sloane," she said. "As requested."
And then she handed him Rambaldi's manuscript.
When Neil returned, Vaughn was fully dressed and waiting, lying carefully on the bed to even out his breathing from the effort of throwing on a suit.
"Are you sure - " the older man started.
"They'll send me back anyway," Vaughn muttered. "But if I could just get some answers, I'll be able to cope being stuck in here when they do. You know?"
"Sounds like the place I just left," Neil drawled. "But okay."
They traded places, fully-clothed Neil sinking on top of the blankets and pillows and closing his eyes appreciably. He couldn't remember the last time he had laid on a bed. A broken mattress yes, but nothing like this.
Vaughn, meanwhile, headed for the door. Both marshals stared at him in astonishment as soon as they saw him, moving to block his way.
"Excuse me," he said politely.
"Agent Vaughn, you can't… you should be…"
"Agent is my generic title," Vaughn said, flashing them a smirk trademarked by Weiss. "In reality, I'm a senior ops officer. That means I outrank you each about three times. Stand aside, please."
"But you - "
" - clearly am well enough to issue you an order, in any case. Stand aside, please. Mr. Caplan will wait here and explain things to my mother."
They parted immediately, relieved at the news. This time, Vaughn's smirk was his own. Je t'aime, Maman.
And then he squared his shoulders and departed on his information quest.
Up next: Vaughn has a score to settle with Jack. And Weiss. And the world in general.