"Syd."
"Open your eyes, you can do it."
"C'mon, Syd, open your eyes."
The shaking woman, flushed with fever, weakly batted away Michael Vaughn's hand from her cheek.
"You need some water. Just a sip, babe. C'mon."
The continued urging finally accomplished its purpose. Vaughn was relieved to see her eyes open to a slit and to see her make an effort to sit up. He slipped his arm further behind her shoulders and aided her. Guiding a canteen to her lips, he carefully poured some water into her mouth. Good, she'd swallowed some.
"Where am I?" She slurred. "What's going on?"
"We're in Estonia. In a cabin in the woods. You're sick, Syd. You have to fight it. Get better."
"I feel so cold."
Vaughn hadn't let go of her shoulders yet, and now he adjusted himself to hold her weight fully, pulling her shivering body against his. His jacket was already around her loosely, so he tugged it in more closely.
"I gave you a shot of antibiotic, Syd. You should feel better soon."
"What is it?"
Sydney was waking up, and now all sorts of horrible scenarios were presenting themselves to her fevered mind. In their business, she could have contracted one of any number of biologically designed pathogens.
"You had a cold when we left. We've been in these woods, in some awful weather, for two days now, trying to find the contact we were assigned to extract. I think you've developed complications." He didn't say the word, 'pneumonia,' which was what he suspected she had contracted.
As if to confirm his unspoken diagnosis, Sydney broke into a shuddering, rattling cough that seemed to come from deep within her diaphragm. Vaughn rubbed her back as she half-coughed, half-choked, feeling utterly helpless to ease her suffering.
"I've tried to call for an abort to the mission, and get you extracted, but coms are down."
"Why?" Syd whispered.
"Something in these woods, a dampening field maybe, is preventing our signal from reaching base. We need to get out of this area to make contact."
Syd looked up into his face, her eyes suddenly open and intense. "You. You go. It's the only way."
"I'm not leaving you."
His worst nightmare was to lose her again, this woman he loved so very deeply. Not long ago he'd given her up for dead for two years. It had almost killed him. And then Lauren. The legacy of those two years had temporarily ruined his life, and hers. He could never go through that again.
"Vaughn-"
"No. Now go to sleep. I've given you some drugs, you'll feel better in the morning. We'll both go."
Sydney thought about that silently for a minute, then ventured to speak again, as painful as it was for her to talk at all.
"Michael, tell me a story. Something about your childhood."
Vaughn thought for a minute. He bent down and planted a kiss on Syd's hot forehead, an unconscious gesture of his love. He sat up a little, thinking hard.
"How about a teenager prank?"
"Yeah," Syd agreed hoarsely. Her eyes closed and she settled more snugly into the comfortable juncture between Vaughn's neck and shoulder. He smiled and held her close.
"Our street was a typical suburban neighborhood. My buddies and I got on the bad side of an older lady at the end of the street. She didn't like the way we dressed, or walked, or talked. Or breathed.
Anyway. One night? I don't know if you grew up doing 'Mischief Night' the night before Halloween, but we loved Mischief Night. We were so helpful that day. We all raked up the leaves in our yards and bagged them up. Our parents were amazed.
Then. That night after it got dark, we dragged the bags full of dead leaves to her house and stuffed them everywhere: the mailbox, the front door, the cellar door, even down the chimney. It was getting on the roof and stuffing leaves down the chimney that got us in trouble. There isn't a teenage boy in existence who knows how to tiptoe. She heard us."
"Did you get away?"
"Everyone got away except me. My mom was so angry. I ended up being the woman's yard boy for a year on weekends. She called me 'boy'. If she saw me today, she'd probably still call me 'boy.'"
"You deserved it," Syd whispered, watching him through heavily-lidded eyes.
"Yeah, I did. But you know what? If I could do it over, I'd do it again. It was fun. Like being a spy or something," he kidded.
"Such a good spy, too- you got caught on your first mission." Syd chuckled, but the mirth turned into a coughing fit. Vaughn rubbed her back again until she was through the painful bout.
"Sleep now," he soothed her.
The next morning dawned cold and snowy. Vaughn weighed the dangers of building a fire in the small fireplace and decided the benefits to Syd outweighted the risk of being found by the Covenant, whose agents were no doubt also scouring these woods for the traitorous contact that the two CIA agents had been sent to rescue. He moved the sick woman as close to the cheerful flames as he could safely do and sat down with her.
He held a cup of hot tea for her as she managed to rouse herself enough to sit up and take the proffered tin mug.
"Thanks," she breathed, sipping cautiously at the steaming liquid.
"I feel better this morning," she remarked after several slow sips. "Let's try to get out of here, and go somewhere we can call in."
Vaughn was silent for a minute, trying to decide what to do.
On the one hand, Sydney did seem to be pretty sick still and an extra day of rest would help her. If they still hadn't made contact by the time night fell, theymight be in a much worse place for spending the night than here, where he could keep her warm and dry.
On the other hand, the longer they stayed in one place, the more likely it was that they would be found by the enemy. And if they made contact within the day, Sydney could be home and on her way to a full recovery. She'd said she was feeling better.
"Alright, we'll go as soon as you get another shot of antibiotic and we've eaten something. We'll head north towards the city."
"What about the contact?"
"Syd, don't get mad at me for making a decision to put your well-being ahead of finishing this mission."
Sydney frowned. She always finished her assignments. This didn't sit well with her. But she knew, as much as she hated to admit it, that Vaughn was right.
It was late in the day and the shadows were getting long by the time they reached the outskirts of a depressed, industrial town. Evidences of long-time Soviet occupation and war were still evident everywhere they looked. Vaughn and Sydney limped to an alley next to a dump and sat on a fallen telephone pole. Sydney looked much worse after the day's hike.
Vaughn pulled out his walkie and attempted to contact base again. This time, the radio crackled with static and then, to his joy, Marshall's voice. After they exchanged their relief at having heard from each other, Marshall gave them instructions on where to go for the extraction.
They were almost home.
"Syd, not much further. There's a field outside this town, about a mile's hike. We'll get picked up there. Let's go."
"Syd?" Vaughn leaned down to help her to her feet, but ended up supporting the majority of her weight.
"So tired," she moaned. He realized quickly that she was fading into unconsciousness. He looked around to make sure they weren't attracting any unwanted attention and swung her over his shoulders in a fireman's hold.
He carried her the last leg of the journey.
Sydney woke in a hospital room and knew immediately she was home. An IV was attached to her arm and she felt like her muscles were made of lead, but the elation at being home made up for it all. She looked around and saw Vaughn watching her from a chiar pulled up to the side of the bed.
"Hey, sleepyhead," he smiled. He looked incredibly happy and free from worry. Sydney decided that that meant she was probably going to live.
"Hey," she smiled back. "Thanks." She couldn't tear her eyes away from the wonderful sight of his beloved face staring back at hers.
"I do have a price," Vaughn countered. "I charge for carrying beautiful women on my shoulders through enemy territory."
"Oh you do?" Sydney replied playfully.
"Uh huh."
"So what do you want?"
"I want my drawer back."
They both laughed, remembering how absurdly pleased Vaughn had been back before all their trouble, when they'd been dating and Sydney had given him a drawer in her apartment to keep his things in.
"You got it."
THE END
A/N: Just a simple little love story.