A/N: Many thanks to those of you who reviewed. I am hoping now that I should be updating more frequently now because it's winter break, but unfortunately I can make no guarantees. But until then, I hope I'll continue to see more reviews! Happy Holidays! Oh and I apologize for any incorrect French translations. I may be in my fourth year, but I'm still not very good with grammar.
Agent Elektra: Sorry to disappoint you, but I thought slapping a woman would be out of the range of Vaughn's gentlemanly character. Believe me, I would have loved to have written it.
Chapter 8
Over the horizon, the sun rose in an array of pastel colors that a photograph would be incapable of capturing in all of its splendor. Colors ranged from the lightness of peach to the most delicate orange swirled together in beautiful mixes of chaotic organization. This is what Vaughn had pictured a morning sunrise to be like in Santa Barbara. In addition to the sunrise, there would be a glittering blue ocean that would spray its scent on to the wings of the wind where it would waft into the bedroom where he and Sydney would be watching the world come alive.
As the plane descended, the sunrise disappeared behind the airport building and Vaughn was once again forced into reality. Vaughn had met Jack at the bar the night before where Jack had informed him of his last conversation with Sydney. When Jack had finished, Vaughn immediately updated him on the fact that Sydney was staying with his mother in France. Jack conversed with a few contacts and they left for Paris promptly at ten o'clock.
Vaughn's watch ticked quietly as the big hand hit seven and he and Jack proceeded off the airplane and into the terminal to rent a car.
"Bonjour Monsieur. Peuvez-vous j'assiste?" (Hello, Mister. Can I help you?) The man at the desk asked.
"Oui. Je m'appelle Frederick Greenland et j'ai reservé une voiture," (Yes. My name is Frederick Greenland and I reserved a car.) Jack answered.
"Une moment, s'il vous plait. Ah, c'est ici," (One moment, please. Ah, here it is.) he said pointing to the computer screen. "Une voiture numero deux cent trente six." (Car number 236.)
"Merci, Monsieur. Au revoir." (Thank you, Mister. Good-bye.) Jack and Vaughn proceeded to the exit and into the parking lot looking for car number 236. Vaughn raised an eyebrow at Jack when they found it. The blue convertible sitting in front of them was the dream car of most teenagers and would definitely not be a car Vaughn could picture Jack Bristow driving.
As if Jack could read his mind, Jack threw him the keys. "That's why you're driving." In spite of the circumstances, Vaughn couldn't help in grinning. He knew the convertible could act as a tourist cover but he couldn't shake the seventies image of Jack driving in a convertible and having drag races at stoplights.
Vaughn finally pushed those thoughts out of his head and proceeded on the familiar route towards his mother's house. By this time, the sun was full in the sky, and there was no trace of the beautiful sunset that had glazed the sky only minutes before. As they neared the house, they passed a parked black van about a mile from the house, but passed it without thought. Vaughn pulled into the driveway and both men exited the car. Vaughn led the way up to the door and knocked. After a few moments, his mother's slightly strained voice gave him allowance to come in. Slightly puzzled, he opened the door only to be instantly tackled upon entry.
Vaughn was pushed to the floor and his hands forced behind his back. He heard the releasing of the safety on several guns. The room erupted into chaos.
"Don't move and keep your hands behind your back!"
"I'm CIA!"
"Stop, that's my son!"
"Get me the handcuffs!"
"My ID is in my pocket!"
"Release him immediately! He's not the person you're looking for!"
"Every one, shut up!" A single voice commanded. Vaughn turned his head from his position on the floor towards the sound of the speaker's voice. "Bring them to their feet."
Both Jack and Vaughn were raised forcefully and painfully to their feet as they met the eyes of Robert Lindsay, Director of the NSC.
* * *
"So tell me, Agent Bristow, what brings you to the romantic city of Paris?" Sark inquired from his seat across from Sydney inside the moving limo.
Sydney didn't answer but stared with open hatred into his eyes.
"I bet I can guess," he said leaning forward in his seat. "You were going to meet a contact?"
Sydney's eyes narrowed. "You set me up." Sark just grinned back. "You egotistical son of a bitch. Why? What could you possibly gain?"
"I'll be frank with you Agent Bristow. My superiors are almost ready for your return. You see, the men at the restaurant were supposed to apprehend you, but when you discovered them first, they ran."
"You had something to do with my disappearance. You know where I've been these last two years," Sydney reached down and pulled her extra gun from its holster. "I want answers." She kept the gun firmly trained on him.
Sark looked unconcerned at the gun being pointed at him. "As you're well aware, Ms. Bristow, I was in CIA custody at the time of your disappearance."
Sydney released the safety. "Do you really expect me to believe that as a member of the Covenant, you are unaware what goes on in the organization? Listen to me, Sark, I'm going to get answers from you now or later, but I recommend that you start talking now!"
Sark kept his aggravating grin. "You won't shoot me. I am too useful to you and the CIA."
"You're right, I won't shoot you," Sydney said simply as she braced her self for what she was about to do. "But I don't have too." Sydney aimed above Sark's head and to the left and fired. The bullet penetrated the glass that separated the driver from the passengers and struck the driver in the back of the head. The driver's right foot fell hard on the gas and the car began to accelerate. Sydney made her move quickly. She threw open the passenger door. The door hit a nearby phone pole and broke off. Sydney looked at the ground only seconds before she closed her eyes and jumped.
* * *
"Agent Vaughn, Agent Bristow, how good to see the two," Lindsay said sarcastically. Neither man commented. "I'm going to suppose," Lindsay began as he bravely walked towards the two handcuffed men, "why you're here and I'd love for you to join us on the couch."
Vaughn met his mother's eyes to reassure her he was fine as the four of them took seats in Mrs. Vaughn's living room. Vaughn was furious that Lindsay had invaded his mother's house and had treated Vaughn himself like a criminal in front of her.
"Now, I'm in no mood to play twenty questions, so I want a straight answer. Where is Agent Bristow?" Lindsay asked.
Vaughn looked slightly surprised to hear that Sydney was not here, but Jack hid it well. "We have no idea," Jack stated coldly.
Lindsay leaned forward on the sofa chair looking angry. "You can't tell me that an unauthorized trip to France and a detour at Agent Vaughn's mother's house has nothing to do with Agent Sydney Bristow. Now answer my question or I'll have you thrown in jail as an accomplice in the escape of a fugitive. Where is Agent Bristow?"
Jack didn't say a word and Vaughn followed his lead. Seeing that neither would talk Lindsay decided to reverse his tactic. "Agent Vaughn, I would advice you to speak up now. Your mother also aided in Sydney's escape and I would be obligated to follow the law…" Lindsay hinted.
Vaughn's eyes widened in angry disbelief. "You can't arrest her! You have no proof! My mother had no idea who Sydney was running from! She can be acquitted in any court for ignorance."
"That doesn't matter," Lindsay said smugly as he realized he was getting somewhere. "The final result is that she helped Sydney escape and as she admits, she knew that Sydney was a member of the CIA. That's enough for me."
Jack attempted to send threatening looks in Vaughn's direction, but Vaughn either didn't see them or ignored them. "Maybe you should think of the logics," Vaughn emphasized. "Why would I come to my mother's house if I knew Sydney wouldn't be—"
"Sir," one of the members of the NSC said calling Lindsay over. They talked for a few minutes before Lindsay returned to the group, but he didn't return to his seat.
"Sorry to have disturbed you Madame," Lindsay said cordially to Mrs. Vaughn. "Bernard, Corton, see to it that Agent Bristow and Agent Vaughn board their plane back to the US. Inform me if there are any problems. Good night gentlemen," Lindsay waved as he left the house. Vaughn felt the dread spread through his body. Lindsay had apparently heard something about Sydney. It was the only explanation for his sudden and willing departure after their angry interrogation.
Two men, presumably Barnard and Corton came to either side of Jack and Vaughn and pulled them up from the couch leading them to the door. Vaughn and Jack complied willingly, but once the front door closed Jack made the first move with a rapid round kick that left Bernard on the ground. Vaughn followed lead. He hooked his leg behind Corton's knees causing him to fall to the ground too. Both NSC agents reached for the guns, but Jack and Vaughn had disarmed them before they knew what hit them. Angry now, Corton delivered a punch to Vaughn's jaw that caused him to fall to the ground but near his fallen gun. He picked up the weapon and with a quick examination Vaughn aimed the gun and fired. Corton wavered for a second before slowly falling to the ground. Vaughn aimed and fired too at Bernard who ended up on the ground next to his partner. Vaughn threw the gun aside thankful that it had been filled with tranquilizers. The last thing he needed right now was to be accused of murdering two NSC agents.
As Vaughn got to his feet, Jack was searching Bernard' pockets for the keys to the handcuffs. Jack pulled at a ring of keys and a short time later, they were rubbing their wrists in victory. They headed back up the path and inside to find Mrs. Vaughn stepping anxiously away from the window. "I apologize for this," Vaughn said to her. "You didn't deserve this."
Mrs. Vaughn looked at her son lovingly. "Oui, I may not have deserved this, but it seems to me that you two and Sydney deserve this even less."
"Do you know where Sydney went?" Vaughn asked.
"No, as I told that awful man, she must have disappeared some time during the night. I never heard her leave and she was gone by morning. She was definitely as nice as you claimed, Michael."
"Do you mind if we go up and see the room she was staying in?" Jack spoke up.
Mrs. Vaughn shook her head. "Of course not." She led the way up the stairs and they followed her into a flowered room. Jack looked around as Vaughn and his mother stood outside the door to stay out of his way, but Jack's search left him empty-handed. Aside from maybe two creases in the comforter, there was no evidence that anyone had even occupied the room.
"We should go," Jack said as he strode past his two observers. Vaughn could tell that he was worried. Lindsay knew something they didn't and they had no leads to go on.
* * *
"The mission failed, it was a setup."
"Come on home then, Hawk Eye."
"Mountaineer is MIA."
"Copy that. Remain in Paris and try to find her. Base-Ops will be in touch."
"10/4, Hawk Eye over and out."
* * *
Sydney hit the ground with a bone-crushing thud. She rolled for several feet after landing on her right side before coming to a stop. Several surprised pedestrians went over to see if she was all right, but she ignored them and rose painfully to her feet. She glanced down the road where the limo was still speeding down the road out of control before taking off down the street. She placed her hand involuntarily over her right rib cage as she ran, thinking that her landing may have broken some of them.
She didn't know where to go now. With both the Covenant and the NSC on her back, going into hiding was proving to be very difficult. She knew her father was supposed to contact her, but how he planned to do that she had no idea. But it was then she realized that it might be best if she contacted him. There was no way she could try and leave the country, at least by herself. The NSC probably had all the airports checking ID's as well as at the French borders. Since she had no fake ID's or cash to purchase a plane ticket she was stuck in France.
Sydney slowed down and came to a stop in front of a telephone booth as she tried to control the pain in her side. When she had caught her breath, she opened the door and stepped inside. Lucky for her, her father refused to carry around a CIA issue phone otherwise it would have most certainly been tapped. She dialed the number and waited.
"Bristow," came the successful answer.
"Dad, it's me," she answered back at a hushed whispered.
"Sydney, where are you?"
"I'm still in Paris. I'm making this call from a telephone booth, Dad, we need to meet."
"There's a indoor café on le Rue de Patrick, can you get there?"
"Yes, I—"
"Sydney?"
"Dad, I got to go. I'll meet you there as soon I can." Sydney quickly hung up the phone. Two black cars were coming up the street and one car held a very familiar occupant. Sydney exited the booth quickly but not urgently and began to walk at a normal pace down the sidewalk, heading in the same direction in which she had previously came, hoping that Lindsay would recognize her. Her plan failed. The moment she heard the screeching of quickly applied brakes she broke into a run only to run smack into three NSC agents coming towards her.
Sydney glanced at the traffic across the road and without really checking to see if it was okay, she dashed into it. Cars and mopeds swerved, honked, and braked to avoid her, but she managed to cross the street unscathed. Unfortunately, so had the three NSC agents behind her and soon she was dashing at top speed down the sidewalk. Other pedestrians on the sidewalk made the journey through the crowd slow and difficult, not to mention the fact that her side was killing her.
Finally, a nearby alley brought a break in the sluggish crowd and Sydney ducked down it. She didn't glance back to see if the other three men had followed her but continued to sun as fast as she could. Suddenly she came to an abrupt stop as she saw a crowd of NSC agents poised and ready to fire at the end of the alleyway. She looked behind and saw that the men had indeed followed her down the alley and were approaching on her unmoving body fast. Sydney pulled out her gun and aimed it at the three approaching men, but they too had pulled out their weapons. She could be hit numerous times before she even got one shot off. She was trapped.