A/N: Thanks to freitazal, starshollow108, Grouchy, mysteriouscharm, pigeonofdoom, ArodLoverus2001, and Katie. You guys are, again, awesome.
Sydney watched as the room began to clear out until the only people left were her father, Sloane, Stroud, and herself. Hoping that they had nothing important to say, she folded her hands on the table and waited. Vaughn had wanted to talk to her too, she'd have to try to fit that in before they left if she could. He'd been acting so strange lately, she didn't want to blow a chance to figure out why.
"So?" She interrupted as politely as possible which, given her present state of mind and lack of sleep, was not very.
To her surprise, it was Agent Stroud who answered her, "According to your personal files, you have been previously acquainted with a Mr. Sark, correct?"
Sydney stiffened in her chair, "Yes. Why?"
Jack spoke this time, "With our other intelligence we gathered that Sark and a new terrorist group of unknown alliance are after whatever Quinlin has as well." He hesitated, "We have reason to believe they might be connected to the murder of Androv Miguel."
"You think he gave them the information?" Sydney questioned, glancing from one face to the other. None of them had answers. Keeping down her frustration she turned to the most likely person to give her answers, Stroud, and waited.
"That is a possibility, yes. Which is why we need you to keep an eye out."
"For Sark? That's-" She stopped on the word 'impossible'. How many times had she said that before?
Too many times, she reminded herself. Where Sark was concerned, anything was possible and, more likely, probable. Especially when a weapon was concerned.
"Why tell just me? Vaughn should know, too, he is my partner."
Among other reasons, she thought, none of which are any of my business to talk about.
"We need you to keep an eye on Sark and Agent Vaughn." Stroud went on patiently and continued before Sydney could interrupt him again, "The last thing the CIA wants is a shoot out at the museum. It is an in and out mission; there should be no sign you were ever there. There are concerns that Agent Vaughn may act irrationally towards Sark-"
"Irrationally?" Sydney almost choked out as she tried to hold back. The last thing she needed was to erupt in front of an agent from the CIA, no matter how stupid and pig-headed he was making himself, "What would you consider 'irrational', Agent Stroud? From our previous dealings with Sark, I imagine a couple of shots would be extremely rational."
Stroud watched her calmly, she had to give him that. As stupid as some of the things he said were, he was handling her own outbursts very well. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm down and glanced at Jack and Sloane, wondering how much she was embarrassing herself.
"Unfortunately, Miss Bristow, the agency doesn't take that view. If you run into out of the museum, however…" He smiled slightly, "Accidents happen. Just make sure they don't during the mission."
Maybe she could learn to tolerate Stroud after all.
"Alright."
"Good. Please do not inform Agent Vaughn about anything we just discussed until further notice and, with permission, you're dismissed." He glanced to Sloane who nodded approval. She stood, shook hands with Stroud, and nodded to Sloane and Jack before leaving, trying to control herself before she bolted from the room.
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"Why wouldn't she tell me about something like this?" Michael turned the empty box around in his hand for the umpteenth time, "I mean, I would tell her, if well, roles were reversed or something."
"Maybe it just came back negative." Eric suggested as he watched Michael spin the pregnancy test box.
"Maybe. But what if it didn't?" Michael asked, more to himself than to Eric as he rubbed his forehead with his free hand, "I mean…wow."
Eric shook his head, "Look, don't worry. Syd would've- speak of the devil."
Michael's head shot up and he shoved the box back into the briefcase on the desk and snapped it closed quickly just as Sydney turned and walked towards them, brightening as she came.
"Plane's leaving in half an hour and they want us on." She paused, her smile fading a notch as she looked them both over inquisitively, "What's going on?"
"Nothing." Michael chimed in after a brief pause, smiling casually, "To the plane, then?"
She looked to Eric who shrugged in response and she slowly smiled mischievously, "Fine, if that's the way you two want to play… I'll just have to figure it out."
"Hopefully we all will." Eric muttered under his breath as they walked out to the parking lot. Michael shot him a look out of the corner of his eye.
"What was that?" Sydney asked.
"Nothing." They both answered in unison this time.
"What did Sloane have to say?" Michael asked curiously, changing the subject.
"Not much." She answered honestly.
Eric rolled his eyes mouthing something only Michael caught. This is ridiculous.
He couldn't help but agree.
------
"What do you think about this one?" Sydney asked, the stiletto heels on her black sling backs clicking above the low rumble of the jet as she walked down the aisle, making a final adjustment to the black wig bun on her head.
"It is better than the brunette one. The subtle highlights of black, onyx, and hazel are blended together in perfect harmony, dahling." Eric commented in his best blasé accent, barley glancing up from his magazine. Dixon, at least, glanced up and nodded before turning his attention back to the op-tech equipment.
"Oh thanks." Sydney groaned and then smiled, "Seriously though, what do you guys think? I mean, this guy will be hard to convince and I don't want to take any chances."
"It looks amazing. You always have the best disguises, don't worry." Michael answered as he came up the isle behind her and ushered her into the seats, taking the one next to her, "It's just a routine mission. He cracks, gives us our intel, and we're on the plane back in two days." He leaned over closer to her ear, "And I've been thinking. When we get back, screw work for a week. I've heard that Santa Barbra is lovely this time of year."
Sydney looked at him curiously, "Really? You mean it?"
"Of course."
Blushing, she looked down and began to pack her purse, "Well, it better be quick then. I need a vacation."
"Don't we all." Eric muttered.
Sydney opened her mouth to inform him that it wasn't that he wasn't liked, but there were certain times when three was most certainly a crowd when the speaker in the jet buzzed in and informed them they were five minutes away from landing.
Michael glanced over at Sydney as she flattened out her black skirt again and squeezed her hand reassuringly, "You ready?"
Taking a deep breath, she stiffened until she was sitting straight in her seat and answered in her most cultivated, smooth elocution, smiling slyly, "Yes, of course. You, on the other hand, appear to have forgotten to change."
Eric raised an eyebrow and grinned while Michael kept his features stony and answered with military precision, "I'll get on that right away, Ms. van Buren."
Sydney erupted in a fit of giggles, half choking while trying to stop laughing as Michael grinned, shaking his head. Eric rolled his eyes.
"Oh yes, they're ready." He muttered sarcastically to an amused Dixon.
"So it would seem."
-------
"Phoenix and Boy Scout in position and waiting for the target."
"Roger that, Pheonix. Target should be approaching… in roughly a minute, he is rounding the corner now." The voice buzzed with a laugh in Sydney's ear as she pretended to examine a long, modern painting of colored stripes, "Don't worry about getting his attention. The staff higher up has already been informed of the arrival of Ms. van Buren." Sydney adjusted her glasses, hoping the camera inside them was pointing at the proper height. From the reflection on the glass over the painting, she could see Vaughn standing a few feet behind her off to the side, hands clasped in front, sunglasses on, and earpiece ready. He certainly did look the part now, with the black suit and everything.
"Target will be in range in ten seconds…five, four, three, two, go."
Sydney stood up straight, tilting her head to the side slightly and glancing out the corner of her black-rimmed glasses at the man who was coming down the hall. Tall, mid-fifties, and tired, exactly as Sydney had pictured him. Casually, she pulled herself up straighter and put her hands behind her back, looking over the painting with what she hoped appeared to be intense interest.
"Ah, Ms. van Buren, I see you have found our contemporary art. Are you a fan?" Liam Quinlin asked politely as he stopped next to her.
"Not particularly, no. However, I find this piece quite fascinating. The discovery of color that the artist obviously experienced while painting this is amazing, don't you agree?" Sydney recited, remembering what she'd worked on in the plane.
"Indeed." Liam replied, a slow smile spreading over his face, "Few of our average visitors seem to realize that, unfortunately." He paused, looking her over curiously, "In fact, it is one of my personal favorites here."
"Really? It is one of mine too." Taking her eyes of the painting, the corners of her lips turned up slightly, "But truly, Mr. Quinlin, let us cut to the chase, shall we? Art, as I'm sure you are already aware of, is not the only thing we share common tastes in, if rumors are true. Politics happens to be another subject of great interest to me."
"Ah," Liam replied with mild discomfort and coughed, "Yes, that."
He coughed again and ushered her down the hall to the next painting before speaking again politely, "As I'm sure you're already aware, the museum is holding it's annual charity gala ball tomorrow. We at the institute would be honored if you would grace us with your presence. It would be a superb opportunity to talk with others who share your views. Should I reserve an invitation?"
Sydney kept the smile on her face, "That would be lovely."
"Ah, delightful." He shook her hand, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Ms. van Buren and I cannot wait to hear from you again tomorrow night."
"The feeling is mutual."
With that, Liam nodded and left and Sydney smiled back at Michael before heading out of the building. She could already smell the beach.