Thanks: My beta on this chap, Holly, and my French "tutor," Sandpiper. Oh, and Yana, for helping me find the super-cool lyrics. You guys are awesome :-) 
 
 
Written in Blood Part Seven~ "Paris in Flames" 
 
We all sing the songs of separation
and we watch our lives bleed out through our hands
that's how it was on the first day
when we saw Paris in flames~ Thursday~ "Paris in Flames"

Sydney POV

The plane ride was fourteen hours long. Thirteen were spent staring impassively out the window or at whatever incomprehensible movie they were showing as I fought to keep down the fruit I'd eaten earlier with my worry about Vaughn.

We'd done everything we possibly could to avoid discovery and just might have gotten away with it, with my father's help, but I still couldn't discard the inconsolable suspicion that something might go wrong.

The remaining hour finally allowed me to drift into a much needed sleep...too bad it ended with an abrupt wave of turbulence five minutes before we began descending. Not fully alert and aware of my surroundings, I went through the motions of exiting, claiming my baggage, and hopping into a taxi to go to "La Veronique Hôtel."

At this point, jet lag had completely taken over, added to the fatigue caused by my lack of sleep. Because of the time zone change and flight time, I'd arrived in France at 6:00 pm, the exact same time I'd left the night before. To my body, I'd been on a plane for 24 hours.

Trying to ignore this dizzying fact, I made it to the hotel and put on my best perky face to the concierge. "Bonjour! Une chambre, s'il vous plait, en la nomme Jacqueline Livre."

The young woman behind the check in counter tapped a neon green painted nail on her computer mouse, clicking twice then typing in a few letters. "Ah, oui. Voici ta réservation. Livre, Jacqueline. Chambre soixante- trois pour deux soirs."

I froze. "Soixante- trois?"

She gave me an odd look and nodded, handing me an electronic card key. "Oui. Soixante- trois. Bonsoir."

"Vous aussi," I responded slowly, taking the card and giving her a smile and a nod, then sauntered to the elevator. I had to shake this feeling off. It was just a coincidence, nothing more than a stupid number. The fact that it was the same number as the page of that Goddamn prophecy meant nothing.

 All my superstitious behavior told me was that I needed sleep desperately. I quickly found my room and took a deep breath as I slid the card into the slot. Opening the door slowly, I crept stealthily into room 63, not quite realizing I was doing so.

I let the breath out. Nothing had happened. No explosions, no gunshots, just a normal hotel room, just like all the rest. With this in mind, I kicked off my high heeled shoes, slipped out of the way too short sundress I'd been wearing, into sweatpants and a tank, and fell into the bed, too exhausted to worry anymore.

----------------

Someone was knocking on my door, and *someone* obviously had their will written and officiated.

It took me a moment to realize that it was most likely Vaughn. I got up slowly and peeked through the peephole with a half shut eye. A distorted image of my handler blinked back at me. I opened the door, reminding myself to keep up the French act for the hallway passerbys. "Salut, M. Bejen. Ça va aujourd'hui?"

"Pas mal, merci. Et toi, Mlle. Livre?"

"Je suis bien. Sil tu plait, entrés."

"Ah, merci."

Once he was inside, we shut the door, leaving the façade in the hallway.

"So..." he began to pick at a thread on his shirt. "Nice flight?"

"Great. Yours?"

"Fine."

I found a piece of lint in my pocket to occupy myself with. "Umm... do you think it worked?"

He knew what 'it' meant automatically. He thought a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. I think it did."

"Ok," I looked away as though the silence would break with my gaze. "Good."

"We go through with the mission tomorrow night."

"I know." He nodded, as if to say, 'Yeah, figured you would.' I spoke again, "So, what should we do until then?"

He smiled a little, as though he'd been planning something for a long time. "Well, there's a restaurant downstairs...."

"Vaughn... we can't," I argued, though my inevitable grin contradicted my words.

"Why not?"

"I believe those same words came out of your mouth a month ago and because of my negligence of their answer, we were nearly killed in the ally behind the restaurant."

His green eyes sparkled. I knew already that there was no avoiding this, not that I truly wanted it to. "If at first you don't succeed..." he quipped.

"You really want to attempt this again?"

His smile reappeared and he sighed contently, knowing he'd won me over no matter what his answer was. He leaned in slowly and kissed me, his hand resting where my jaw met my throat. Pulling back, he muttered softly, "More than anything."

I'm an idiot and I'm way too taken over by him. I should put my foot down. Ha. Who am I kidding? "Alright, let's go."

----------------------------------

We decided that it would be in both of our best interests to stay 100% sober this time, and we sent the wine list back with the waiter after one bottle was ordered.

"Have you talked to my father?" I asked as casually as I could while the waiter walked away with our dinner orders.

"Yeah, right before my flight. He said everything worked out accordingly and 'remember that this is an official mission, not a vacation to be better acquainted with my daughter.'"

I choked on my drink. Sputtering, I muttered, "He didn't say that."

"He did. But you want a real shock? He was smiling a little as he said it. I mean, I know I was still a little out of it after the blood test, but I could have sworn I saw the corners of his mouth turn up. Like he was amused. Like he didn't want to strangle me with his bare hands."

I laughed for what felt like the millionth time that night, more than I had all year. Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to take a large risk possessed me. "So... are you going to take heed in his reminder?"

Fighting to keep down the blush, I glanced up to see his reaction as my implication sank in.

The sides of his mouth tugged upwards. "I don't know, do you think I should?"

My only answer was to reach under the table to grab the hand that was resting on his lap. Immediately, it turned up and his fingers linked with mine.

All I could think about after that as we talked and smiled and blushed, all I could ponder as our food arrived and we began to eat, all my mind would comprehend while I averted my eyes to the glowing candle between us when he'd told me I looked beautiful, was that despite everything happening, life couldn't possibly cease to be perfect.

------------------

Two hours later, we'd used up every possible excuse to stall going back to the room. This was too wonderful to end so soon, and who knows what could happen when it did. In this job, we learn not to take our happy moments for granted, and it's a lesson that's hard learned.

I suppose the knowledge that eventually we had to finish dinner was what brought the issue back to the table. "So, um... should we... do you want to come back up to my room?" he asked, blushing adorably crimson.

*His* room, not our rooms. After a moment, I broke through the glass we'd been anticipating to shatter. "Vaughn... are you sure?"

"Well, you know..." he trails off a little, then continues more confidently, "I want you, Syd, anytime, anywhere, and I don't think its something I've hid well. I want this more than I can say...assuming we make it upstairs this time."

I smiled despite the rapidly growing pounding in my chest and nodded my agreement, having a nagging instinct in my head that this wasn't the best of ideas, but listening to the optimistic encouragement of my heart instead. "Me too."

-------------

I don't really remember who paid the check or what anyone said to us or what we said to them as we left the restaurant and headed back into the main part of the hotel.  All I know is that sometime between exiting the restaurant and entering the elevator, my hand intertwined itself with his.

More strongly though, I can recall his lips on mine as soon as the elevator doors slid shut, slicing the rest of the world from us, leaving just a tiny portion where only we existed. Separation and oxygen didn't come again until the doors re-opened on our floor and we nearly stumbled onto some tourists.

He broke away just far enough to be able to pull out his card key and slide it through the slot. "You ready?" he muttered, forehead resting softly on mine. I nodded slowly, leaning forward and kissing him again lightly, letting my silent lingering assure him of an answer.

He opened the door and tugged on my hand, leading me into the room. Once the door was shut behind us, our lips collided again. Eyes shut, somehow we found our way to the bed and collapsed onto it.

My hand sneaked underneath his shirt and crawled lightly over the skin on his back. That's when I felt it; a jagged, rough patch of skin right below his shoulder blade. A scar tattooed onto his skin by his torturers, an eternal mark left to forever be a reminder of the evil and pain we've sacrificed so much for.

It must have sparked something for him as I know it did me, because he tensed. With an obvious reluctance, he pulled away. At the lost of contact in our lips, our hands found each other's immediately. 

"Vaughn, what is it?" I asked softly.

He looked away, out the window or some internal picture unknown to me. He turned back to me after a moment, strengthening his hold on my hand before speaking. "Syd, are you sure this is what you want?"

I blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Sydney... think about this. Six hundred years ago, a man knew I would be born. He knew my blood type, the specific properties of it. He knew things about my past and my family. He knew that I'd... that I'd come to care deeply about... about you. He was right about it all...." he trailed off, his fingers curling and uncurling around mine nervously. "Who's to say he's not right about this one?"

I stared downward, collecting my words before looking back into his eyes, in the faint light they resembled sparkling the color of sage leaves. "Vaughn, please don't do this to yourself. What we have means too much. That man could make a thousand correct predictions but I still wouldn't believe it and I will never ever accept that you would hurt me intentionally."

"I never would," he confirmed in a whisper, running his fingers through my hair. "Or...that's how I feel. But what if I'm wrong? Just being here with me now could be a danger to you."

I shook my head slowly. "It doesn't matter. I'd be with you. Vaughn, I don't want you to ever doubt my faith in you... in us. Ever. You and what we have is too important to me. No bloody, crumpled up parchment is going to change that."

Uneasily but eventually, a tiny hint of relief began to wash over his features. His free hand came to my cheek. "Syd... thank you."

I gave him a small smile, and to be sure that he believed my words, I reestablished them with a light kiss on his forehead. As I pulled back, I glanced at his face and was taken aback by the emotion in his eyes. I'd never seen him look at me the way he was right then... it was as though he was confessing every dream and passion and hope he'd ever had to me, just by giving me that look.

Completely empowered by it, my hand found its way again quickly to the back of his neck, pulling him back to me. Just as our lips were brushing again, I heard the most horrible sound it was possible to hear at that moment.

A knock at the door, followed by a crude, cacophony of a voice, disrupting the gentle rhythmic music we'd created in the air. "Agent Michael Vaughn! Open this door!"

We jumped apart, anxious and confused. He got up slowly and walked towards the door. "Who is this?"

"Agents Buscher and Burkey, under the direction of Director Kendall. Open the door, Agent Vaughn."

Cautiously, Vaughn did as directed. I sat and watched with a sinking feeling in my stomach, growing more fervent with every millimeter the door moved.

My brain can't even begin to comprehend what happened next. It was all too fast, or maybe I just convinced myself of that to lessen the emotion of it. Either way, all I know is that the next time I looked up at Vaughn, his hands were restrained in cuffs that glinted as evilly as the two agents' eyes. "Michael Vaughn, you have the right to remain silent...."

I jumped up, making my presence clearly known. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"Agent Bristow, we've been ordered to take Agent Vaughn under arrest. He is now legally a prisoner in custody of the Central Intelligence Agency."

"What?!" I thundered, "Agent Vaughn is nothing if not completely loyal and devoted to the agency! What the hell is this about?"

Agent Burkey pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. "He is being charged with accounts of deceiving the CIA, tampering with official medical results in order to conceal information, thus also falling into the charge of conspiracy against the CIA, and possible threat towards other assets."

For a moment I couldn't speak, only stared in astonishment at the three men before me, my eyes finally settling on Vaughn's, hoping to seek or give some comfort there. I'm not quite sure which.

I found myself able to snap back then. "'Possible threat'? You're arresting him because of something some possibly certifiable artist wrote in his journal? This is bullshit! You can't do this!"

"Sydney," a soft, calm voice severed the harsh blanket of angry words. His eyes locked onto mine and he didn't need to say his next words aloud for me to understand. "It's okay. Don't." I nodded and silenced myself.

"I'm sorry, but we have no choice in the matter, Agent Bristow," Buscher explained, a mocking pity in his voice. "And as you heard, he is being charged on numerous other violations which contradict your argument. That being said, I suggest that you take heed in Mr. Vaughn's suggestion and keep your mouth shut. Don't think that you are off the hook, Miss Bristow. We have every reason to believe that you were involved in Mr. Vaughn's transgressions."

"Then arrest me too," I spat out, the words burning my throat with the venom I'd put in them.

"We don't have the definite evidence for that, Agent Bristow. So for now we'll be protecting you by keeping this one locked up for a while. He can't murder our best asset from behind a glass wall," Burkey placed a hand tightly on Vaughn's shoulder.

Buscher gave his partner a sideways glance then threw a fleeting look in my direction, namely my disheveled hair and wrinkled shirt. "Looks like that's not all we're preventing." They chuckled, the sound coarse and lurid.

My nails dug into my palms, stinging like the tears well hidden behind my eyelids.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Agent Bristow. Due to these recent developments, an agent will be replacing you on this op. Director Kendall wants you back for a thorough debrief of Agent Vaughn's case tomorrow morning. Your plane leaves at 10 am. Au'revior."

Both agents grabbed hold of one of Vaughn's bound arms roughly and began to push him out the door. He turned back one last time and did an amazing thing. He gave me a shadow of a smile. It gave me just a moment of naive comfort, strengthened as he mouthed, "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

I nodded and tried to smile back, wondering how it was that he could be this way even through all this. It couldn't be possible to love anyone more than I did in that single fleeting moment.

Another perverse comment followed by the chuckling was made as the door slammed shut on the three agents, isolating me from the rest of the world.

With no one there to see me except my own pitiful reflection

and no one there to taunt me except the crude, clanging silence,

I fell into a ball on the bed and allowed the sobs to rack my

body. Scorching tears ran down my face and landed on the

pillow like crystal clear drops of blood.

***

A/N: Make me a happy bunny and review pweeeaaase :-) ::Makes sad, innocent bunny face::

Oh, the French wasn't all that significant to the plotline, but loosely, the girl at the check in counter and Sydney just said "A room for Jacqueline Livre." "Ok, here's your reservation. Room for two nights. Have a good evening." "You too."

And her and Vaughn's conversation was basically "Hello, how are you today?" "I'm fine, thanks. Want to come in?"

Yes, very interesting, isn't it? Lol. But thanks a ton to Sandpiper for helping me!