A/N: So yeah, here's the next chapter. Sorry this one took longer. Hope you all like this chapter! Please read and review; I love hearing what you all have to say! Honestly, it helps with the writing process.

Also, I've made a slight change which will hopefully make things easier to understand. While Sydney's thoughts will be italicized, Vaughn's thoughts will be both italicized and bold. Let me know if that helps.

rauka: sorry to disappoint you, but this is definitely an S/V story; I just love Vaughn too much for it not to be! I mean, since this is pre-season one, I can't even guarantee that Sark will appear in this story... though, we'll leave that for future chapters to decide. Hope you'll like this story anyway!

Dedication: This is for Rica18, as she is an amazing writer (I highly recommend her story, Red Rain) and a loyal reviewer. Thanks for your kind words. :)

Disclaimer: I really do apologize for this, but I completely forgot to put this disclaimer on the prologue chapter. Seriously, my sincerest apologies. This story was kind of inspired by another I read here. It was an amazing story called Dark Knight, though I'm afraid I've forgotten the author's name. It was a Sarkney, but it was beautifully written with an outstanding plot and character analysis. Unfortuantely, she never got to finish writing it, and I think she might have even removed it from this site, so yeah. But I owe her credit because her story (which was pre-season one and involved Sydney meeting a masked Sark, who was kind of involved in the Rambaldi prophecy) really did give me the idea for mine.

Additional Disclaimer: The title for this chapter came from the Cat Stevens song, "Trouble." Great song, by the way.


Chapter 2: Trouble Set Me Free

The exhibition was certainly impressive. Breathtaking, priceless paintings adorned each wall of the various rooms in the chateau. Based on the estate itself, the upper class guests, the sophisticated decor, and the ridiculously expensive wine that was being generously offered (not to mention the paintings themselves), it was not difficult to conclude that Mr. Salviere was a man of great wealth, and he wasn't afraid to show it.

Among the chauvinistic, suited men and their attractive, trophy mistresses were Sydney and Dixon. With a black suit and white shirt, Dixon was a finely dressed gentleman who blended perfectly in with the crowd. As he listened to the incessant chatter of an influential but egotistical woman, he calmly and subtly searched the mass of people at the exhibition until he finally spotted his partner. Of course, it would have been impossible to miss her.

Modeling a sleek and sophisticated outfit, Sydney turned heads like a sweet aroma in the midst of a foul reek. With a blonde wig that barely passed her shoulders half swept up, she wore only a light touch of makeup that perfected a stunning combination of both beauty and confidence. With a low neckline and thin straps, her sparkling, royal blue dress was ankle-length with a long slit on her right leg that reached her mid-thigh. Feet covered by blue heels and pearl colored purse in one hand, she was most definitely a sight to see, one which few would want to miss.

Having found her, Dixon waited until she ended her conversation with a shorter, older man. Upon making eye contact, they shared an imperceptible nod, as if in mutual agreement of something, before Sydney disappeared into the crowd. Excusing himself from the annoyingly talkative woman before him, he drew a cellphone from his pocket. Naturally, the phone contained a chip that, when activated, would send out an electromagnetic pulse to disrupt any surveillance feed or radio communication within the chateau. Pushing the "call" button, Dixon placed the cellphone back into his pocket and waited--she had five minutes to acquire the map and return to the party. He prayed that she would do so without any trouble.

Little did either of them know that Trouble was already on his way.

Carefully slipping into hallways and passing through doors, a resolved Sydney swiftly stepped down a new set of stairs, memorizing every change in direction and avoiding any guards. After a few more turns into broad hallways, she finally reached the door that marked the entrance to the vault room. Aware of her limited time, she quickly removed a flat container of "foundation," which was, in actuality, a descrambler, from her purse and placed it on the keypad beside the door. She activated the descrambler and had only to wait a few seconds before the doors slid open.

Placing the object back into her purse, she walked into the fairly large room containing highly valuable items. Staring closely at rows of clear cases and framed works of art, Sydney did not search for long before she came upon the specified painting. It happened to be a rather small piece, simple yet beautiful in style, and obviously bought at a high price. Without wasting another minute, she removed the painting from the wall and pulled it from its frame. Once she had done so, Sydney rolled up the painting and slid it inside a little, cylindrical container. So focused, in fact, was she that she had not heard the steady steps of an intruder. Not until the echoing click of the hammer did she realize that there was someone directly behind her.

"Don't move," commanded a soft but strong male voice. With the sound of those words, a scorching shock coursed through her veins, and shivers crawled up her spine. It was him.

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The endless halls and doors had confused him, but he had eventually managed to find his way. Well, he managed to do so with her help. After discovering her when she rounded a corner, he was easily able to see past the blonde wig and amazing dress and discern her true identity. It was her – the woman he had encountered and fought in his last mission; the woman who had spared his life; the woman who, despite her definite status as his enemy, somehow radiated benevolence and strength.

Okay, so maybe he had thought about her way too much the past few days... But who could blame him? There was just something so... intriguing about her that he simply found impossible to resist.

It was this curiosity combined with the realization that she would probably lead him to the vault that prompted him to stealthily follow her. Waiting patiently while she sought the right painting, he silently narrowed the distance between them until he was only a few feet away.

Taking a quiet, deep breath, he ordered with a shaky will and steady voice, "Don't move."

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It was true: she could not see him with her back to him. But that fact did nothing to weaken her intuition. Though she had never heard his voice before, she could feel his presence, as if the heat that radiated from his body caused the room temperature to rise several degrees.

Wait, that was ridiculous! What the hell was she talking about?

Turning around slowly to appease her tortured mind, Sydney faced a man dressed in a black turtleneck, pants, boots, and mask. However, the minute she looked into his eyes, she knew she had been right. Those same green eyes of two days before stared calmly back at her--the same jade orbs that had swept her off her feet; the same emerald gems that had made her insides melt; the same forest spheres that had nearly caused her to fail the mission.

Seriously, that was way too much analysis of his eyes. She had to learn more about him.

A moment of silence followed the immediate recognition of both people. With the pregnant stillness steadily growing, one of them had to speak.

"Hand over the painting," he ordered calmly, forcefully. Sydney had to suppress the smirk that threatened to ruin the gravity of the present situation.

He didn't really think it was going to be that easy, did he? No matter--he would learn.

Boldly ignoring the gun pointed at her chest, Sydney stared into his perfect, green eyes and stated in an apathetic tone, "Not a chance."

In the blink of an eye, Sydney lashed out her hand and struck the wrist holding the fun, sending the weapon flying off into the room. Immediately, she punched his face forcefully with her left fist and completed her offense with a powerful kick to his chest, causing him to fall back into the ground. Her mind racing, she hastily examined the room for a sign of the weapon. Locating it a few feet to her left, she sprinted toward the gun and snatched it from the carpet floor. Quickly turning around, she was confronted with the now-risen stranger in front of her.

Moving aside from the path of her slightly extended arm, he ducked and fiercely pounded her flat abdomen. Caught by surprise, she dropped the gun and hardly had time to double over before the green-eyed enemy struck her jaw. Powered with adrenaline and motivated by rage, she hit his face with lightening speed and wildly swung her right hand. When the stranger caught her wrist with his right hand, she did not falter but instead chose to use her momentum to punch him with her left hand, her back facing him. Not a good idea. The man grabbed her left wrist as well and held both her arms tightly behind her as her body fell into his. Once again finding themselves trapped in a slightly compromising position, they both took a few moments to rest and examine the situation carefully.

Well, well, well. It seemed that luck was on his side. Here was another chance to get a good look at her without facing her wrath.

Although Sydney could hardly see the man with her back to him, he was easily able to observe her. It was not until this moment that he had taken note of the outfit she wore. The blue evening gown accentuated every curve of her body and left little to the imagination with the plunging neckline and high slit. Though she was still his enemy, he had no trouble admitting to himself that she looked very beautiful. Only a fool would have ignored her current state of dress, and this man was no fool. Obviously, he concluded that the wavy blonde hair she had was really a wig, yet he could not help but notice the way the ends of the wavy hair teased the thin straps of her dress. And with her ravishing figure pressed against him, needless to say, the situation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

For her part, Sydney managed to avoid looking into his gorgeous green eyes; she was not about to make the same mistake twice. Nevertheless, she could not neglect the powerful, attractive body that she melted into yet supported her at the same time. She could not ignore the heat that radiated from his fine figure, causing her cheeks to become even more flushed. Most of all, she could not forget the intoxication she experienced of the sexy scent about him, a smell she automatically knew belonged solely to him.

What the hell was she getting herself into? This was her enemy--albeit, a very appealing enemy--but her enemy nonetheless. She had to get to the gun; it was either him or her.

Only after these observations had been made by both parties did she realize that his hold on her wrists had loosened considerably. After only the slightest moment of hesitation, she raised her right foot and slammed her flat heel onto his right foot. With a shout of both surprise and pain, he immediately released her only to face corporal punishment. Sydney rotated and punched both sides of his faces with her right and left fists. Spinning for momentum, she delivered a mighty kick to his chest, watching with satisfaction as he fell hard to the ground. Immediately lifting the weapon that lay nearby, she calmly pointed the gun at his lying form. Puzzled to see that his jade eyes expressed not horror but curiosity, she scarcely had a moment to register the fact the thumb safety was not disengaged before the shouts of guards echoed outside the room.

After sharing a look of complete shock, Sydney sprinted down the hallway with the stranger following closely behind. With the loud clamor of footsteps growing closer, she disengaged the thumb safety and took a few wild shots as they turned the corner. Pursued closely by gunfire, they ran nearly side by side through the endless maze of hallways, each time Sydney making several hardly precise shots with the ammunition he handed her as they rounded corners. They finally ran into a short hall with a door on the end. Choosing to rest for a moment at the corner, the man stood on the wall opposite her, watching her as she carefully peeked into the hall they had just left. Spotting a number of guards in hot pursuit, she shot several rounds at them, hitting one or two and causing the others to duck behind corners for cover.

All the while, the stranger could only screen himself from the guards' shots and watch as she shot back with controlled anger and determination. When the clip ran out once again, Sydney hid from view and stared back at the man, signaling with her eyes that she needed more bullets. That was when she noticed the striking look of worry in his green eyes. And just as quickly, she observed his eyes fill with the same fortitude that she now held.

Stretching his arm out across the hall, he stared intently at her and shouted, "Give me the gun."

Was he crazy or something! She wasn't about to give the weapon to him so that he could reload and end her life here and now. She would fight him to the death if she had to.

Perceiving her gaze of disbelief, he looked solemnly into her eyes and with a quiet, calm voice, stated firmly, "Trust me."

He knew he had no right to ask that of her, not when he was her enemy and she his. But it was the only way; it was all he could think to do. All he wanted to do was help her… Help her! Was he insane! She was his enemy. Okay, okay, he wanted to at least save her life. After all, she had already spared his once before.

In her mind, no two words had ever exuded such truth as those he had just spoken. It wasn't so much what he said, but the way in which he had said it. Somehow, someway, she just knew that she could trust him.

For some strange reason, Sydney decided to take a chance and steadily handed the stranger his gun. When he reached for the gun, his hand barely grazed hers with the lightest of touches, causing both to shiver with surprise. After taking another moment to stare into her eyes, he grabbed another clip from his pocket and reloaded the gun. Cocking back the hammer, he looked at her firmly and stated, "I'll cover you."

These words, though short in number, did much to reassure her. He was going to help her, not hurt her.

With both giving a firm nod, the man stepped out of the corner and shot at the approaching guards, crossing to the corner opposite the one Sydney hid behind. When he jerked his head indicating that she should go through the door into the stairs, she took one last look at her enemy, her savior before she turned and sprinted toward the door. She did not have to look behind her to know that the man was running in the opposite direction in an attempt to lead the guards away from her.

After her climb of the continuous steps, she finally reached the first floor and quickly found Dixon. Firmly taking his arm, they quickly left the party before anyone could stop them. As they stepped into the car, Dixon turned to her and asked, "Did you get it?" When a breathless Sydney could only nod her head in affirmation, he furthered his inquiry. "Did you have any trouble?"

Trouble? Oh, yes, she had had Trouble with a capital "t." Only this trouble had saved her, this trouble had gained her trust, this trouble had obtained her respect… Or was it more than that?

Shaking her head to both clear her thoughts of him and to answer Dixon's question, Sydney only looked ahead as they drove speedily from the chateau.

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Michael Vaughn slammed the door to his apartment and sat down upon his couch. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he closed his green eyes and sighed heavily.

He had let her go... again. What the hell was wrong with him? In the past two days, he had met her and had turned into a spineless traitor to his country. No matter how many times he tried to come up with excuses, he could not convince himself that was not betraying the very nation he worked for.

But why? That was the real question. He had always been a hard-working agent, a man with indisputable loyalty to the United States of America... and he still considered himself to be that person.

So why had he let her escape? Though he did not want to admit it to himself, deep inside, he knew why.

Because ever since he had first seen her, he had been spellbound. She had piqued his interest. He couldn't explain it, but there was something about her... something that glowed with righteousness and morality. And though rationally he knew that he was just trying to find some foolish justification for his partiality toward his enemy, he really felt that somehow... she could be trusted. After all, she had chosen not to kill him on more than one occasion. So that had to mean that he could trust her... right?

Well, there was only one way to find out. He had to learn who she really was, who she really worked for. Only then would he have his answer.


Hope you all like it! Please review! I'll have the next chapter up sometime soon.