A/N: Sorry this took so long! Hope you enjoy part three! :-D

Written in Blood Part Three~ "Dawn Will Break the Silence" 

[i]When the darkness fades away
The dawn will break the silence
Screaming in our hearts
My love for you still grows
This I do for you
Before I try to fight the truth

My final time

~Evanescence~ "Wash it All Away"[/i]

*~Vaughn POV~*

I felt as thought I was watching everything happen from somewhere else, somewhere far away yet tantalizingly close all at the same time. There she was, just feet away. So strong and breathtakingly beautiful.

She was sweating, panting. Hair matted down and strands of it forming a glistening chestnut curtain in front of her soulful hazel eyes. She wore the classic black CIA issue jumpsuit of a seduction-free mission.

But to my eyes, she glowed. A whitish, shimmering mist seemed to surround her, engulfing her already magnificent features, and I couldn't tear my gaze away.

"Vaughn," she said my name softly, communicating so much yet speaking so little.

I smiled at her, reassuring her. She smiled back a little through her fear... or sadness... or another emotion I couldn't quite read. I was confused. She had nothing to be afraid of as long as I was with her. Didn't she know that?

Suddenly, I was watching the scene from someone else's eyes. I watched as my own arm rose slowly, unwaveringly, and revealed something from my own gear belt. A pistol.

My own two hands held death.

I watched as my hand pointed it at her, as her eyes widened with terror and hurt. I watched helplessly as, as though possessed, my fingers squeezed together and pulled the trigger.

And my own two hands had triggered death.

The bullet sliced through the air, screaming as is flew in its path straight towards her. She wouldn't be able to duck in time... she wouldn't... it would hit... and it would be me who instigated the fear that would be forever frozen in her eyes....

*

"NO!" I gasped as I shot up in my bed. I breathed hard, then winced in the pain it brought about my healing chest.

[i]Nononono[/i]. I pleaded with my mind, as though it would take mercy on me. [i]Not again. NOT AGAIN![/i]

It had happened every night since I came home from the hospital, a week and a night ago. Eight time. Eight times I ended her life.

It always started out the same. We were on a mission, everything was going well. Then, suddenly... I'd kill her. Just like that. I could never stop it. Sometimes it was with a gun, sometimes a knife, sometimes a push off a ledge. But what always remained the same was the pleading betrayal in her eyes right before I handed her over to Death.

I was supposed to protect her, care for her, guard her. Instead, every night, I murdered her. Murdered the one I love.

What could it mean? I wasn't quite sure but each time, it had left me shaking and sweating on my pillow, wide awake for the remaining dark hours of the night to fight off the scenes and images that replayed in my head over and over and over.

I glanced at the clock on my night table, glowing an ominous crimson. 2:49. I'd woken up about two minutes ago. And thus, another part of the pattern had continued. It always happened at 2:47. I always pulled the trigger, or thrust the blade, or gave her that final push... exactly at 2:47 am.

It must just be post traumatic stress... or... symbolism. Sydney could represent hope and what I'd killed for myself the second I let myself be captured. All I knew was that having Sydney's blood on my hands was a worse feeling than any of the tortures those K-Directorate agents had tried on me. Worse than that virus slowly eating away at my body. Worse than being submerged, lungs burning for air, in the liquid that caused it.

It was a feeling I'd kill myself before experiencing in the waking hours of reality.

When that night finally gave way to the pale grip of the dawn, I gave up on falling back asleep as I had every night for the past eight nights. I went through the motions of the next morning like a zombie, with my mind in a completely different place than my body.

Before I'd had time to comprehend that it was lunch time, my cell phone rang. I limped across my apartment towards the object sitting on my kitchen counter, ignoring the wooden crutches leaning against the wall by the front door. "Vaughn."

"Hey, it's me. Can we meet? I know that's awful of me to ask while you're still healing but-"

"No, no. It's fine," I told her sincerely, hoping the slight waver in my voice left over from the disturbing atmosphere of the dream didn't betray my words. "Where?"

"There's a small movie theater off of Wilshire... it shows only independent films. Meet me there for the 7:30 showing. I'll be in the back row." She hung up.

I put down my phone and continued making lunch, promising myself I wouldn't let the nightmare get to me when I met her that afternoon.

The showing room was small, and comparatively empty. There were about eight rows of seats with maybe seven seats in each row. Only nine seats were filled.

A group of five college age teenagers dressed all in black occupied half the first row. Two adults, looking fairly engrossed in the film, sat side by side in the middle row. One high school age girl stared blankly at the screen in the third row, and I could see the outline of a tear trickling down her cheek in the glow of the projector lights.

 I wondered momentarily what her story was, but then I turned behind me and saw Sydney in the very back row, shrouded by shadows where the light of the movie didn't quite reach.  Slowly, the narrow aisle not allowing much room for movement with my crutches, a pushed towards her and took the seat beside her. "Hey."

"Hey," she kept her eyes glued to the screen. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better," I whispered truthfully. "My chest stings a little when I breathe in too deep though. I hope this movie isn't a suspense thriller."

She laughed a little at my attempt at a lame joke, then forced herself back into serious mode. "I didn't call you about work today."

I'd figured as much from the tone of her voice when she'd called, but I didn't tell her so. I stared at three screen with no real attention as to what was going on, allowing her to continue.

"I wanted to see you again... make sure you were alright. I know that sounds stupid, interrupting your rest and making you come here to see me, just to prove you were okay."

I found her hand on the armrest and blanketed it with my own, silencing her. "I told you it was fine."

She turned her palm up and linked her fingers with mine. "So you're sure you're ok?"

It was almost nice to see that she was the worried one about me for once. It felt like I spent all my time these days concerned about her well being. But I clearly wasn't the only one apprehensive. "Positive."

We stayed silent for a few moments, and I actually took in the scene of the movie. It seemed normal, cliché almost. A man and a woman engaging in a heated argument. Then I heard Sydney's whisper again. "This place is completely clean. My father and I use it to meet all the time... Kendall issued it as a CIA safe haven a few months back. So we're completely safe..." she trailed off, as if hesitant to continue her sentence. "So consider this our second date."

I smiled, stealing a glance at her. "I like that." I'd meant to just look for a moment, but I found my gaze affixed to her, unable to be steered away. She looked so beautiful, even in the dim lighting of the enclosed theater. She must have felt my eyes on her, because her head snapped around and she focused her coffee brown eyes on mine. I lifted her and and lightly placed a kiss on her knuckles.

Suddenly, I found myself leaning towards her. My hand was going numb in hers, all coherent thoughts dissolving from my mind. Just a breath away from her, I glanced into her eyes again, and the glint in them gave me all the encouragement I needed.

My lips were on hers, and she wasn't pulling away. My thoughts merged together into one long stream that flowed through my consciousness, as the kiss went from gentle, tentative, sweet, and slow to faster, more passionate, more urgent.

[i]Finally... finally, finally, finally.... Wow, so amazing... can't believe I'm doing this... wow.... Sydney... love her... loveherloveherloveher. [/i]

Slowly, reluctantly, we pulled away. For a moment, I stared at her and she stared back. Her mouth was parted slightly, moving just a bit, as if she wanted to say something but the words just couldn't come. I knew the feeling.

Suddenly, the Nokia tune crossed with a shrill ringing broke our spell and earned a few grumbles and mutters from the several quiet moviegoers in the rows ahead of us. "Hello?" Sydney had decided to answer hers. "Yes, we'll be right in," she whispered, then looked over at me. She clicked her phone shut.

"We have to go in?" I asked her softly, more of a grim statement than a question. 

She nodded, and for a second longer we resumed our staring contest. She leaned forward quickly and gently touched her lips with mine again, as if to say 'We'll talk about this later.' Then she tugged on my hand, still linked with her own and handed me my crutches. Me slightly behind her on my crutches, we left the now immortalized theater behind.



"As you know, we've been working to decode the recently extracted Rambaldi manuscript, page 63 of his infamous journal. Our efforts thus far have been unsuccessful," Kendall informed us as we stood before him at the JTF, wondering how we could keep our minds on anything when that kiss had blown them away. Or mine, at least.

"Yes," Sydney agreed.

"Well, Agent Bristow, I contacted the DSR," Kendall began, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed her tense up at the mention of the people who at one pointed had captured her and treated her as a criminal for hours that day. "They feel that the document should be put in your care for a short amount of time to see if you can make anything of it."

"Why me?" Sydney asked, confusion apparent in her voice.

"Your mother is a Rambaldi expert. They feel that if any of her blood is running through you, you might share that talent. Take it with you, I expect you'll be extremely careful with it. Report any findings immediately. You may go now."

Kendall stalked off, leaving Sydney and me side by side with the faded, seemingly blank parchment. She turned to me. I looked back down at her... and had an idea. One of the stupidest ideas in history maybe, but one I liked nonetheless.

"Syd?"

"Yeah?"

"Come back to my place with me."

"What?!"

"I mean... we're together here already. No one would be able to see if you were in my car... government issue, tinted windows. Your car isn't here, you had to jog here. We wouldn't be in any real danger."

Now how did this sound familiar? Hadn't I given her almost the same speech in Nice a few weeks ago? This was dumb, and we both knew it. Still....

"Okay."

"Really?"

"Yes. I'd love that."

"So... this is your apartment," Sydney stated, wandering towards the couch.

"Yeah," I answered as I shut the door behind me and placed my crutches back against the wall, limping over behind her. She whipped around, locking her eyes with mine again, and a strange, overwhelming blanket of static electricity seemed to form between us.

I lifted my hand to her face and rubbed her cheekbone lightly with my thumb before moving in to kiss her again. We collapsed onto the couch, not breaking our contact, and continued our activity until we were out of breath. God, I loved this woman. I knew that now more than ever.

"I..." Sydney started to say. "Wow."

"I was thinking the same..." I countered, and the room was suddenly filled with an awkward silence. "Um... want something to eat?"

"Uh... sure."

I got up and limped to my kitchen counter. A couple of apples were lying in a basket there. "Apple good?"

"Great."

I picked up the large cutting knife at the edge of the counter, next to where Sydney had placed the manuscript, and began slicing the apple into pieces. My hands, however, were still clumsy after the week they'd spent in so much gauze. The knife slipped and I felt a sharp pain on the left side of my palm, at the tender area of skin below my thumb. "Ouch!"

"What happened?" Sydney asked, concerned, coming to my side.

"Nothing, really. I cut my hand."

It didn't hurt too bad, especially compared to the pain I'd gone through at the hands of K-Directorate last week. Still, the blood was quickly running down my wrist. I reached over the counter to grab a paper towel, carelessly letting a pool of blood spill onto the yellowed page. "Shit! Kendall will have my head for that one."

Sydney pulled off a few more sheets of Bounty and wrapped them gently around the wound, then pulled them tight. "Kendall can go screw himself." She carefully lifted my arm and placed a gentle kiss above the homemade bandage. "Let's get this cleaned up."

I was about to follow her to the sink when the document caught my eye. "Wait, Syd... look."

The drops of blood were beginning to expand and spread atop the crackling surface of the parchment, dancing about like glittering rubies on a treasure map. Suddenly, they seemed to dissolve and disappear altogether. But in their place, something black appeared. Words! And below them, an illustration was traced.

I slowly made my way to the parchment and looked down at it, trying to piece together what I could see so far with what the small drops of blood had revealed. I stared closely at the picture, then jerked back in surprise as it clicked in my mind exactly what it was.

Staring up at me was a sixteenth century drawing... of me.



A/N: Yeah ok so I got inspiration for that part w/ the parchment from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. Lol. Please don't sue me. ;-) Bet you can't wait to see what Vaughn's prophecy was about... and you thought Sydney's was evil ;-) Please keep those awesome reviews coming! Luv you guys!