They both glanced at each other, falling right into 'agent' mode. She wiped
her eyes and composed herself in less than a second. Vaughn pulled his gun-
a Smith and Wesson - out of it's holster which sat on the right side of his
hip, thought better of his shooting skills and passed it to Syd. He didn't
want to risk her life because of his aim. No-one outside of the CIA should
know that they where there.
She took the gun from Vaughn. It felt strange in her hand, cold and heavy. It was a long time since she'd held a gun. She hadn't held one since she was shot. She shivered and all of the little hairs on her arms stood up. Her instincts had taken over, keeping them safe when she didn't know whom to trust.
Vaughn walked apprehensively up to the door. It was bullet-proof, but that didn't mean much if the person on the other side had a set of lock picks and a gun. All it would take was five minutes to pick the lock, and they'd be in. He peered through the spy-hole and almost laughed at the irony of the name. Instead of seeing a face, all he saw was a CIA badge with the name Andrews, Mark on it. The picture showed a dark-haired youngish man with startlingly blue eyes and pale skin. He stepped back from the door to let Sydney have a look. She did, and opened the door, keeping her gun levered at chest height. Her aim was steady, and Vaughn was somewhat comforted to know that if she had to shot, she would do so without hesitating.
The agent walked in, holding both hands up. Vaughn reached behind him and shut the door, putting the chain on to make sure that it was secure. In the agent's right hand, he still held his badge. He didn't speak, only passed his badge to Vaughn, who was slightly closer to him than Sydney. He moved slowly, so that there was no mistaking his actions. He wanted a bullet in the head as much as the next guy did. He knew that Sydney was quite able to shoot him if she felt it necessary. Vaughn took the badge from him and inspected it carefully.
"Looks alright." Vaughn said, tossing it to Syd, who caught it in one hand. She looked at it for a few seconds, then lowered her gun.
"Who are you and what do you want?" she asked simply, gesturing for him to sit down in one of the overstuffed chairs.
"I was sent here by your father, Sydney," he said seriously, keeping eye contact with her even as she tried to look away, "he told me to protect you from." before he could finish his sentence, she cut him off.
"Why does everyone think I need protecting? I'm quite capable of looking after myself." She snapped coldly, eyes flashing with hurt and anger. Vaughn laid a calming hand on her arm, quietening her.
"Phone your Dad. Find out if what he said was true." He said reasonably. She hesitated, then crossed the room to the portable phone. She speed dialled the number, anxiously pacing the room as she waited for him to answer. After the sixth or seventh ring she put the phone down slowly.
"There's no answer." She said slowly. She frowned, looking very worried. She brought her thumb to her mouth, gnawing on the nail as she tried to think.
"He could just be out, you know, buying groceries, seeing friends, putting gas into his car." Vaughn said. The look on Sydney's face told him just how unlikely it all was. She turned to glare at Andrews. Even from where Vaughn stood, he could feel her irritation.
"You." She said sharply, "talk."
He did.
She took the gun from Vaughn. It felt strange in her hand, cold and heavy. It was a long time since she'd held a gun. She hadn't held one since she was shot. She shivered and all of the little hairs on her arms stood up. Her instincts had taken over, keeping them safe when she didn't know whom to trust.
Vaughn walked apprehensively up to the door. It was bullet-proof, but that didn't mean much if the person on the other side had a set of lock picks and a gun. All it would take was five minutes to pick the lock, and they'd be in. He peered through the spy-hole and almost laughed at the irony of the name. Instead of seeing a face, all he saw was a CIA badge with the name Andrews, Mark on it. The picture showed a dark-haired youngish man with startlingly blue eyes and pale skin. He stepped back from the door to let Sydney have a look. She did, and opened the door, keeping her gun levered at chest height. Her aim was steady, and Vaughn was somewhat comforted to know that if she had to shot, she would do so without hesitating.
The agent walked in, holding both hands up. Vaughn reached behind him and shut the door, putting the chain on to make sure that it was secure. In the agent's right hand, he still held his badge. He didn't speak, only passed his badge to Vaughn, who was slightly closer to him than Sydney. He moved slowly, so that there was no mistaking his actions. He wanted a bullet in the head as much as the next guy did. He knew that Sydney was quite able to shoot him if she felt it necessary. Vaughn took the badge from him and inspected it carefully.
"Looks alright." Vaughn said, tossing it to Syd, who caught it in one hand. She looked at it for a few seconds, then lowered her gun.
"Who are you and what do you want?" she asked simply, gesturing for him to sit down in one of the overstuffed chairs.
"I was sent here by your father, Sydney," he said seriously, keeping eye contact with her even as she tried to look away, "he told me to protect you from." before he could finish his sentence, she cut him off.
"Why does everyone think I need protecting? I'm quite capable of looking after myself." She snapped coldly, eyes flashing with hurt and anger. Vaughn laid a calming hand on her arm, quietening her.
"Phone your Dad. Find out if what he said was true." He said reasonably. She hesitated, then crossed the room to the portable phone. She speed dialled the number, anxiously pacing the room as she waited for him to answer. After the sixth or seventh ring she put the phone down slowly.
"There's no answer." She said slowly. She frowned, looking very worried. She brought her thumb to her mouth, gnawing on the nail as she tried to think.
"He could just be out, you know, buying groceries, seeing friends, putting gas into his car." Vaughn said. The look on Sydney's face told him just how unlikely it all was. She turned to glare at Andrews. Even from where Vaughn stood, he could feel her irritation.
"You." She said sharply, "talk."
He did.