Chapter 13

-Covers-

As he watched Lauren enter the conference room, Vaughn thanked whatever powers had seen to it that Sydney had not yet arrived. What he was about to do would be hard enough without her watchful gaze on him. He took a deep, cleansing breath before plastering a passable smile on his face and turning to greet his wife.

"Hi Sweetie," he said as he wrapped his arm around her back and escorted her to an empty chair. If his voice was a little too bright, he could only hope that she wouldn't notice. He bent to place a chaste peck on her cheek before sliding into the seat beside her.

"Michael dear, it has been too long since I've seen you."She gently cupped his face with her hands and whispered conspiratorially, "We'll have to remedy that tonight."

It was all Vaughn could do to suppress his gag reflex. Dry heaving at this point would more than likely tip her off. But while he had resigned himself to the role of doting husband in this warped charade for the next few days, he would rather endure death by red hot poker than share this woman's bed.

He strove for lilting resignation, "Actually, Sweetheart, I'm afraid I won't be coming home tonight. Eric is… doing a stakeout all evening as a favor to his friend Dale. He thinks his wife is cheating on him, and well, Dale is a bit paranoid. But he's done Eric a few favors in the past, so it's the least he can do. Anyway, Eric wanted some company. I hope you don't mind." Vaughn shot her his most pleading boyish grin. Batting his eyelashes would probably be overdoing it.

Without missing a beat Lauren responded amiably, "Of course, Michael. I understand." She caressed his cheek with her hand, "You are such a good friend."

Swallowing down his repulsion in preparation for the grand finale, Vaughn forced a smile and leaned into her body as he whispered huskily in her ear, "But I'd like a rain check."

Mercifully, Lauren's response was cut short as Dixon and Sydney entered the room. Vaughn tried unsuccessfully to read Sydney's expression as he slowly pulled away from Lauren, leaving his arm draped possessively around her shoulder.

"Good news," Dixon began without preamble, "we've acquired Rambaldi's 'Golden End.'"

Vaughn felt a gratifying rush as he saw surprise peek through Lauren's insouciant façade.

""

As Lauren made her way toward the parking garage, the remaining members of the team gathered in the cramped confines of Marshall's office. Without enough room to pace, Vaughn, Dixon, Sydney, Weiss, and Marshall were relegated to hovering over Vaughn's cell phone as they held a collective breath waiting for it to ring. Jack was there too, but Vaughn had a hard time distinguishing between 'Jack holding his breath waiting' and 'Jack just waiting.'

"Anyone want a gummy worm? I ran out of bears," Marshall offered suddenly, thrusting a container of candy toward the group.

Weiss shot a furtive look toward Jack before rubbing his hands together greedily, "Oo… can I have a red one?"

"Sure," Marshall said as he plunged his fist into the jar and came up with a handful of worms. "Would you like a red/orange or red/white?"

"Either. I'm easy, I just don't like green." He plucked one, then another from Marshall's outstretched palm.

Marshall nodded in vigorous concurrence and grabbed a red worm of his own.

"Anyone else?" Marshall asked again. "They're very tasty. The vacuum seal on the container keeps them from being exposed to extraneous gasses which..." He trailed off uncomfortably as he was met with blank stares and a few passionless headshakes. Shrugging his shoulders he contented himself with munching on worms in silence.

The shrill ring of a cell phone echoed through the small office, saving one worm that was poised for consumption when Marshall gasped in surprise and flung it across the room.

Lauren was making a call.

The voice resonating through the speakers now connected to the small phone was distinctly British; distinctly Sark. "Hello, Love."

Lauren's voice wavered, "You were right. It was the CIA. They have the artifact."

"Where is it?"

"A CIA facility."

"Care to narrow that down a bit," he asked testily.

"I can't," her tone grew sharp, "I don't have that information."

"Does your husband?"

"I will find out."

"Do it tonight," he ordered.

Her response was just as firm. "He's not coming home tonight."

"He's not?"

"No, he's not," she confirmed.

"Hmm. Well then, find out tomorrow."

The line disconnected and the previously frozen occupants of the room burst into motion.

Dixon looked to Jack, "Call the team, tell them to prep site 4B. Marshall," he continued, "keep tabs on Lauren via the tracking device and tell us if there's unusual movement. Vaughn, when your wife asks where the artifact is held, you will tell her it is in our special research facility, which we will lead her to believe is located at 4B."

Dixon then addressed the room, "Alright team. Let's catch Ms. Reed and Mr. Sark. You know what is at stake."

""

Lauren took another long look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She wondered not for the first time as to the whereabouts of her husband. Was he beginning to suspect? No, he wasn't that perceptive. More than likely he was somewhere pining for Bristow. Oh well, at least it afforded her a reprieve for the evening. When she heard the front door open she bit back an expletive. As footsteps neared her door, she grabbed her novel and slipped under the covers, readying herself to probe her husband for details.

Without looking up from her book, she asked casually, "How was the stakeout?"

"I wouldn't know, would I?" came the unexpected reply.

Though overjoyed, Lauren maintained a cool exterior, "Julian, what are you doing here?"

Sark kicked off his shoes and removed his jacket before crossing to the bed. "Anything you want, Love. Absolutely anything."

""

"Stakeout, eh? Interesting."

"Come on, Eric. It was either make up a lame excuse or spend another night with her."

"And why wasn't 'make up a good excuse' one of the options?" Weiss asked as he took a pull of his beer.

Vaughn pointedly ignored him while sifting through cartons of Chinese takeout. "What did you do with the Pork Fried Rice?"

Passing him a box, Weiss posed the burning question, "So, what's going on with you and Syd?"

"Nothing," he moved a shoulder indifferently as he reached for his chopsticks.

Weiss scoffed, pinning Vaughn with an accusing gaze, "Don't give me that. Something happened." He quirked a knowing eyebrow and waited.

"I told her I love her."

Grinning smugly, Weiss reached over and relieved Vaughn of the Pork Fried Rice, "See? I knew something happened."

""

"Ice cream?" Ella offered.

Sydney eyed her dubiously, "With wine?"

"You're right," she conceded. "Tequila?"

"Now you're talking."

Standing up, Ella gestured toward the kitchen as she made her way to the cabinet and pulled down a bottle of Cuervo Gold.

Sydney opened the freezer, inspecting its contents. "Wow, you have a lot of ice cream," she said with a trace of awe.

"I'm prepared for any craving."

"Double chocolate, Cherry Chip, Fudge Caramel Swirl or Lime Sherbet?"

"Lime, of course. How else do you plan on making a margarita?" Ella asked as she pulled out two glasses.

"You," Sydney smiled, "are genius."

Ella's eyes widened as she accepted the container from Sydney, "You mean to tell me that you've never tried this before?"

Sydney shook her head.

"Well, you are in for a treat."

"You're not going to take advantage of me, are you?"

"Why," Ella laughed as she scooped the sherbet, "are you an easy drunk?"

"Only if you happen to be my best friend who I love dearly but have never considered in the romantic sense."

Ella cocked an eyebrow.

"You wish."

"So…" she prompted innocently while deftly measuring the tequila into two large tumblers, "what's going on with you and my big brother?"

"You mean your married big brother?"

"I only have one," Ella reminded her, "You know – six-foot, 180 pounds, green eyes… and desperately in love with you."

Sydney looked at her skeptically, "El, he is married."

Ella only grinned. "So?"

Shaking her head, Sydney laughed, "Tell me you did not just 'so' the sanctity of marriage."

Ella's smile grew wider. "Tell me that you don't want to 'so' it," she quipped with a meaningful look.

Sydney smiled briefly, her gaze dropping down to the floor. After a long pause she answered honestly, "Regardless of whether or not I want to, there's no way that I actually would."

Ella watched the expressions flit across Sydney's face. It was readily apparent that she had suffered a tremendous amount of pain at the unwitting hands of Michael Vaughn.

"You know you two can get through this," Ella's insisted, placing a comforting hand on Sydney's shoulder. "If you want it to happen, make it happen."

Her brow creased and Ella could see she was struggling to find the words to voice her thoughts. "It's not as easy as that. There are so many forces against us."

"From what I hear, there have always been forces against you. But it didn't stop you before."

Sydney glanced away for a moment, "Maybe we were just kidding ourselves, maybe we're not meant to..."

Ella laughed outright. "I'm sorry? Did you just use fate as an excuse?"

Sydney lapsed into silence, considering. A tangled web of seemingly random events had combined to bring her to this moment. Was this where she was supposed to be? Could she have done something to alter her course? Sydney had never considered herself helpless. And when this prophesy came around she was the first one to argue that it was ridiculous. But looking back at her life she could clearly identify a veritable wake of destruction. The effect that her presence had on those that she loved – Danny, Francie… even Will – was horrific. She had spent twenty years idealizing a mother who turned out to be a monster and a traitor. She had spent seven years fighting tooth and nail against the American government. And all the time and effort she put into destroying the Alliance, into repaying her country for all the damage that she had caused was a lie. Sloane orchestrated the fall of SD-6 to benefit his own objectives. And what was worse was the fact that he had used her as an unwitting pawn. Maybe she was fated to destroy the world… she was already well on her way there.

She gave up on finding the answer. "Yeah," her voice was practically a whisper, "yeah, I did."

"Well that, my dear, is pure malarkey. If fate had anything to do with you two, it was in bringing you together. But you have the power to control your own destiny."

Sydney snorted, her gaze growing distant.

"I'm serious," Ella's voice was softly persuasive, "I think you were meant to be."

Exhaling slowly Sydney countered, "If it was fate he wouldn't be married."

"Being in love means overcoming obstacles."

"Maybe," Sydney acknowledged, "but it also means not giving up."

""

Sark and Lauren lay tangled in her sheets after a particularly exhausting evening. Lauren sat up, dangling her feet over the side of the bed. Demurely looking over her shoulder she purred, "I'm going to take a shower. Would you care to join me?"

Sark rolled over to face her, softly running the pads of his fingertips along her back, stroking up and down its length. "I think I just may," he whispered, placing a kiss on her naked shoulder before he trailed his lips across her skin, slowly making his way toward her neck. Suddenly he pulled back, "What is this?"

"What?"

"What happened to your back?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked again, straining to see whatever had him so upset.

Sark slammed his hand hard against the mattress. "Shit."