A/N: So, I think I said I would update soon, but then I went back to school, and suddenly 5 months passed and it was December and I hadn't touched this story. But I didn't forget about it! Still, leaving you with that horrible cliffhanger for all these months is unforgiveable. I wonder if any of the people who used to read this story still even look at Well whatever. I'm really terribly sorry this has taken so long. But here it is, chapter 7. I've already written a large part of chapter 8 too so it shouldn't be that long before I post it.
Ok, just to bring you guys up to speed so you don't have to reread the whole story to remember what it's about, I'll give you a quick recap. However, if you've never read any of it before, I do recommend starting at the beginning.
Summary: Syd is a UCLA junior working for SD-6. She thinks it's the CIA. She meets Vaughn at a frat party. He claims to work for a bank. They start hanging out. She's falling for him hard (like any girl in her right mind would do...). But unbeknownst to her, Vaughn is a CIA agent whose latest mission is to ascertain whether Sydney Bristow is the woman in the Rambaldi prophecy (the one from season one with the creepy picture of Sydney that says she's gonna render utter desolation unto mankind or whatever). Originally Vaughn was supposed to kidnap her at the frat party and bring her into the CIA so they could run tests that would show if she was the woman in the prophecy. But Vaughn talked Kendall out of that and instead he's just going to gain her trust and ask her certain questions that would help them tell if she's the right woman. Vaughn really likes Syd, but he feels extremely guilty because their whole relationship, obviously, is a lie. So they go on this great date at the beach where Vaughn is going to finally start asking her prophecy questions. Just when they're about to kiss, some guys, claiming to be CIA, open fire on them and Syd gets shot in the shoulder. Vaughn fights back, and Syd can tell because of his fighting skills that he doesn't work for a bank. After killing the bad guys, he tells her that SD-6 is not part of the CIA and that they have to run because those bad guys will be sending backup. Syd doesn't trust him.
End of Chapter 6:
"Syd, let me look at your shoulder," said Vaughn slowly, stepping forward. Sydney reached under her dress and in one swift motion whipped out the gun that had been strapped to her thigh and pointed it at Vaughn's head.
"Get away from me," she said icily.
"Syd, don't do this, you're making a mistake…"
Sydney fired the gun three times, turned, and ran off into the night. She didn't look back.
Chapter 7
Sydney ran for what seemed like hours. If she could just make it to the nearest SD-6 callbox, she would be fine.
Unless Vaughn was telling the truth, unless those men who were chasing her really were from the CIA, unless…
She began to feel dizzy and was having trouble thinking straight. Though she had only been working as a spy for two and a half years, she knew one thing for sure: being able to think coolly and logically was the key to survival. And in her current physical state, frantic thoughts darted through her mind in a way that was nothing close to logical. She knew that if she didn't slow down, if she didn't stop running for a minute to catch her breath, if she didn't stop the bleeding from her bullet-wound, she would soon be dead, whether SD-6, the CIA, or whoever was chasing her found her or not.
Panting, she came to a stop and slumped down into the cool sand. She was drenched in cold sweat and blood and felt unbearably hot, although she was shivering uncontrollably. She tore off a piece of her dress – her mother's dress, she reminded herself – and attempted to tie it around her wound so as to slow the bleeding. But her hands were shaking so violently and her vision was blurred by drops of sweat or tears – she couldn't tell anymore – and the hot blood was flowing freely, and she drooped her head for a moment, just a few minutes to gather strength, and then, slowly, the sound of the ocean faded, and the faint light of the moon was erased from the sky, and she was lost in utter darkness, and she forgot herself and everything else, and she was still.
She woke up hours, maybe days later, in a dimly lit room. Her shoulder was carefully bandaged and completely numb. It was propped up under a stack of pillows. Someone had been very attentive to her. After a few moments of confusion, the memory of three evenings ago, as it later turned out to be, flooded back into her consciousness. A cursory glance around the room told her she was being more or less held captive. There were two twin beds; she was lying in one, the other was unoccupied, and as she could tell by the rumpled state of it, probably only recently. The door was bolted and there was no window. If not for the light coming through the crack under the door, she wouldn't have been able to see anything at all. She lifted her head, surprised at how much effort the simple act required, and instantly an electronic bell chimed. It was from a motion detector in the room. Whoever was holding her there now knew she was awake and would probably be coming to see her any second now.
She braced herself. Whoever came through that door, she knew she had no chance in defeating them physically. Her only chance – should a fight ensue – was relying on mental acuity. Sure enough, in a few seconds, the door swung open, the light switch was flicked on, and Sydney found herself staring into the eyes of a man she had known her whole life, but who was as much a stranger to her as any random person she might meet on the streets of L.A. It was her father.
"Hello Sydney." His voice was flat, emotionless, just as she remembered. She stared back at him, open-mouthed, but silent. What could she say?
"I know how you must be feeling. I hope at least the physical pain of the ordeal has been somewhat alleviated."
Her eyebrows crinkled slightly, but still she was unable to utter a word.
"I know you must have a lot of questions, Sydney, but I don't have time to answer them now. We need to switch locations. You have to trust me. Can you do that?"
What an absurd question. She shook her head, a decided no. Jack looked down at her and nodded slightly.
"Sydney, understand these things. I have been caring for you here for the past three days. If I wanted to harm you, I would have done it while you were unconscious. And I'm your father. I'm on your side, I promise."
He leaned over the bed, put his arms around her, and slowly pulled her up to her feet. She resisted for a moment, but she was weak and injured; her strength was no match for his. And he was her father. A part of her longed to accept the comfort he was trying to give her. So she allowed herself to be led out of the room, out of the sterile, two-room apartment, as it turned out to be, and quickly, quietly into a white van with tinted windows. Jack helped her into the back seat, where she lay down and immediately fell back asleep, unaware that she and her father were not the only occupants of the van.
"How is she?" came a hushed voice from the front passenger seat.
"She's fine. The anesthesia hasn't fully worn off and she's had a healthy dose of painkillers since the operation, so she will probably be asleep for a few hours. How are you feeling, Agent Vaughn?"
Vaughn took a deep breath. "Look, Jack – Mr. Bristow – my lack of professionalism, or whatever you want to call it, nearly cost your daughter her life. It still may. I know how that must make you feel about me. So you don't have to pretend to care about how I feel."
"Agent Vaughn, your physical health concerns me only in the sense that we have a better chance of evading the Alliance, the CIA, and the FBI – I have a better chance of protecting my daughter – if you are strong enough to aide me. Don't flatter yourself by supposing I care about your health for your own sake, or that I could possibly care enough to feign concern of that nature."
Vaughn nodded, grimacing as Jack swerved around a pothole, causing Vaughn's leg to press up against the car door.
"You wouldn't by chance have anymore of those painkillers you gave Sydney, would you?" he asked through clenched teeth as he clutched his knee.
Jack smiled. "No."
When Sydney next awoke she was lying in a very large bed in a very large, finely furnished room. Her bandages had been changed, and she felt on the whole much better than before. The purplish pink light shining through the enormous windows told her it was dusk. She sat up slowly, and as she did so, a slight moan issued forth from the opposite side of the room. She turned her head abruptly, shocked to find that she was not alone in the room. Lying in the opposite corner of the bed was none other than Michael Vaughn.
Sydney inhaled sharply and tried to decide what was the best plan of action. Seeing him there beside her in bed, in the apartment, house, or whatever it was, that her father must have taken her to, she began to fit the pieces together. Vaughn must be working with her father. That was the only reasonable conclusion to operate under. This information, however, certainly did not increase his standing in her estimation. Yes, it was true that her father and Vaughn had seemed, at least for the time, interested in prolonging her life. But who knew what their long-term goals were. Jack Bristow had never been a father to her. Why should he start now?
And as for Vaughn…her mind raced over all their frenzied encounters in the last few weeks, and for the first time since that horrible evening three nights ago, she forced herself to confront the fact that every moment of their acquaintance had been a lie. She felt nauseated. She eyed Vaughn with weary suspicion. She could cap him right there while he was sleeping. That would be easiest. Asphyxiation via bed sheets or pillow. But she knew in her heart that wasn't an option. If she hadn't been able to kill Vaughn in the heat of the moment at the beach, there was no way she could go through with it in cold blood now. She was beginning to formulate an alternative plan, when Vaughn muttered something in his sleep, coughed, flipped over onto his wounded leg, groaned, and sat up. Their eyes met.
"Sydney…"
"Don't," she said coldly, her eyes flashing. She pulled the covers off of her, stood up, and slowly made her way out of the bedroom.
She found herself in a long, narrow corridor. Priceless paintings lined the walls, dimly illuminated by individual spotlights and the faint light of the setting sun that glowed through the numerous skylights. It was a beautiful hallway, but something about it made her skin prickle. She felt extremely uneasy being there, as if her body remembered something her mind could not. Then it clicked.
I've been here before.
She gasped as awareness set in and began to retrace her steps to the bedroom – she had to get out of there, fast. That her father – assuming it was he who was holding her – would lead her to a place like this was unthinkable, unforgivable. It verified what she had been trying, in her dreams and her few fleeting moments of consciousness since she had seen him earlier in the day, to deny. Her father knew the truth about her. Worse, he was involved with SD-6, whoever they were. And worst of all, he was a colleague of Arvin Sloane. Why else would he have brought her to his house?
For that was where she was. She had been there once before, about a year ago, for an SD-6 dinner party. She had stumbled half-drunk into this very hallway, trying to find the bathroom, and instead found herself face to face with Arvin Sloane, the man she had secretly loathed for two years now, ever since he put out the order for Danny's murder. As she stood there now, the memory of that night – one she had forced herself to forget since it happened – how else could she show up for work every day, pretending not to hate both herself and her boss? – came back to her. The emotions she felt, the things she said and did – it was all as clear as if it had happened just yesterday.
"Sydney, can I help you?" came the fake, friendly voice that always caused shivers to run up and down Sydney's spine.
"I'm sorry," she said, feigning a smile, "I was just looking for the restroom…I think I may be lost. Your home is so big! It's beautiful, though," she added nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
Sloane smiled in his icy manner. "Let me show you the way."
He put his hand on Sydney's shoulder and led her further down the corridor.
"I'm glad I found you here," he said. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something."
"What's that?" Sydney asked lightly.
"I think you know."
She stared at him blankly.
"It's been a year, almost to the day, since I ordered the murder of Daniel Hecht. Though I understood your resentment toward me in the beginning, I thought with time, you might grow to respect me, even feel friendly toward me, the way you did when I first recruited you. But I see that nothing could be further from the truth."
"Sir…"
"Let me finish, Sydney. The fact is, I underestimated you. I underestimated your capacity for love, and most importantly, your loyalty. That you were able to put personal issues aside and work for a man, for an agency, that would kill someone you loved, says something very important about you. At first, I thought the only reason you came back to SD-6 was because you knew your life would be forfeit if you didn't. But after seeing your work in the field, I quickly realized that fear is as foreign to your essence as is treachery."
He paused for a moment and smiled at her. Sydney met his gaze unflinchingly.
"You are wondering why I'm saying these things to you. The reason is simple. I want you to know that I understand how you feel. I care about you very much…almost as if you were my own daughter. And I am so sorry about Danny, Sydney, I really am. I won't mock your intelligence by rehashing the reasoning behind my actions in that department. You know better than anyone that information about this agency must be treated like a virus. What I want you to understand now, Sydney, is that I both understand and accept your animosity toward me. I would not respect you as much as I do if you were able to forgive me."
Sydney blinked, trying to fight back those juvenile tears that would rise to the surface, despite her attempts to keep them down. Sloane put his arm out as if to stroke her cheek, but she recoiled from his touch.
"I'm sorry," he said, withdrawing his hand.
"Thank you for having me tonight, Mr. Sloane," she said, almost in a whisper. "It was so nice to finally meet your wife – please tell her I said goodbye. I will see you tomorrow."
She turned and made her way out of the mansion.
Walking down that same corridor now, a year later, she paused to collect her thoughts. In a moment of weakness, two years ago, Sydney had confessed to her boyfriend Danny the truth about herself, about SD-6. He was the first love of her life, and she couldn't bear to keep secrets from him. An SD-6 shrink she was ordered to see after Danny's death explained that her need to be completely one with Danny, to have perfect, unhampered understanding between them, to share anything and everything, probably resulted from her father's negligence and virtual abandonment of her. She wasn't sure she bought it, but if the shrink was right, this meant her father was partly implicated in Danny's death. Naturally her feelings toward the former were not softened by that thought.
And then there was Sloane. That cool, perfectly controlled, brilliant, fearsome, awe-inspiring man who had brought her into SD-6 and treated her like a father. She had trusted him completely, respected him, even loved him, in a way. And then he betrayed her.
After Danny's death she had taken a few weeks off. For awhile she intended to quit SD-6 and instead immerse herself once again completely in the "real" world, as she often thought of it. But what for? Without Danny, the real world had lost all its flavor. And despite her dismay at what Sloane had done in the name of the agency, she believed in her country, and she needed a purpose. So she went back. She threw herself into her training with more force and vigor than ever before. She regained Sloane's trust. And in time, she got over Danny, she learned to love again, to enjoy life, to be young.
But she would never forgive Arvin Sloane.
Sydney let out a long sigh and leaned her head back against the wall. Her shoulder was throbbing. Ignoring the pain, she took a deep breath and continued walking down the corridor. She needed to find her father. She needed to know what the hell was going on. But just as she turned the corner, she heard a cry, followed by loud crashing sound. It came from the bedroom she had shared with Vaughn. Without thinking, she ran back to the room.
Vaughn was pinned on the floor underneath what appeared to be a butler. He was struggling to get the gun out of the butler's hand, but it seemed to be a losing battle. Blood was streaming down Vaughn's neck, and Sydney knew she had to act fast. She made her way undetected across the room to where the men were fighting. Just as the butler raised the gun to Vaughn's temple, Sydney leapt onto him, wrenched the gun out of his grip, and fired three times into his forehead. The man crumpled to the floor. Sydney pushed him off of Vaughn.
"Syd," Vaughn breathed, a soft smile creeping into his features.
But Sydney was in no mood for smiles, no matter how charming Michael Vaughn's might have been, even in his current bloodied state.
"Your neck…" she said, clutching her shoulder. She could tell by the hot sticky feeling under her bandage that the fight had reopened the wound.
"It's fine – just a scratch," said Vaughn. "The bullet barely grazed me. Sloane could have allotted more time to training his butlers in marksmanship…"
"Yes. Or to training his agents in the art of seeing through the guise of a cute smile and hockey tickets."
"Sydney, I know you're angry, and I'll explain everything – there is an explanation – but we don't have time now, we've got to move, there might be backup coming…"
"No."
"What?"
"I said no. I don't care if there is backup. I don't care if an entire army of backup comes in here and kills both of us on the spot. I couldn't give a flying rat's ass if that happened. The fact is, I'm not moving another step until you explain everything to me. I'm through with being led blindly by you or my father or whoever took us to this abominable place. I want the truth and I want it now."
"Sydney, I want to give you the truth, honestly, but…"
"Look, Agent Vaughn, I saved your sorry ass twice. The least you can do is tell me why I'm here. You could have already explained it in the time it's taken us to argue about this."
"I'd hardly call shooting me in the leg a form of salvation, but whatever…" Vaughn muttered.
"I shot the two men behind you who had just appeared out of nowhere and were about to blow our heads off. I guess you were too busy being a lying bastard sonofabitch Benedict Arnold to notice them, though, weren't you?"
"Actually, I was trying to help you, since clearly you were in no state to be racing off into the darkness on your own. But you shot me in the leg, making things a little bit difficult."
"Jesus Vaughn, what would you have done in my situation? I can't believe I'm actually having to justify myself to you on this. A man who has warmed his way into my heart turns out to be a highly trained spy. People who claim to work with him are trying to kill me. And what, I'm just supposed to let this man come after me? Because he claims he wants to 'help' me? I mean, seriously?"
Vaughn sighed. "You're right, Sydney. I'm not angry at you for shooting me. In fact I'm grateful you didn't shoot me in the head. Had I been in your position, I probably would have acted the same, though I don't know that I would have ever been able to voluntarily inflict pain on you, even if I found out everything I knew about you was a lie."
"Cut the romantic bullshit and tell me the truth. All of it."
Vaughn, seeing there was no way around it, took a deep breath. "Help me up," he said.
Sydney glowered and made no motion to help him.
"We can't talk about this here. Help me up and we'll go in the bathroom. Please?"
She rolled her eyes and reached down with her good arm to help Vaughn to his feet. She let him put his arm around her for support, and the two slowly made there way into the bathroom. Vaughn turned on the sink and Sydney started the shower. Then they sat down on the edge of the bathtub and Vaughn began the story. He started from the very beginning.
OK...hope you enjoyed. Please leave me reviews and tell me what you liked, what you hated, and if you found any parts confusing. Sorry again for the hefty delay on this!