Chapter 4 - Hungover

When Sydney woke up she didn't even knew where she was. She looked around and saw white sheets, a red dialogue alarm clock, a dresser, her clothes laying beside the bed on the blue carpet. She squinted her eyes to see the red numbers on the clock, she saw it was way passed morning. Sydney's hand went to her head as she covered herself with the covers, rolled over, and covered her eyes in her pillow. What happened the night before actually never happened in Sydney's life, not once. She never drank a whole bottle of vodka before, which amazed her because she wasn't getting sick nor was she in the hospital getting her stomach pumped.

When she heard banging on the door she rolled over, her hand on her forehead to keep the light out of her eyes, and managed to see him with a breakfast tray.

"Good morn, milady." Sydney chuckled, which caused her to moan from her pounding headache. She managed to sit up as he put the tray on the bed. As Sydney sat up the sheet lowered to her stomach, unnoticed because of her pounding headache. It wasn't until she saw his heated stare that she realized she was quite exposed, or perhaps that she was completely naked.

Her hand went up to bring the sheet over her chest and moaned. She had slept with him. Of course she slept with him, she's naked on the bed and he's only wearing his boxers. For godsakes, Sydney, you woke up naked and you're only realizing this now?

"Here, you should eat Sydney before I bed you again." He joked but Sydney knew in some ways he was serious. She swallowed for some composure and calmed herself down. It wasn't the first time you slept with someone Sydney, it's just the first time you sorta...don't...remember it. And at least it isn't some random guy either, it's Vaughn, and even if you don't know him quite well he is an SD-6 agent, he must have some respectability to him.

Sydney looked at the tray and saw some toast, crackers, scrambled eggs, a glass of orange juice and set aside from the tray was a bottle of Smirnoff. She smiled as she opened the bottle and poured it into the orange juice, in the hope of getting rid of the hangover.

Vaughn only smiled when Sydney took a drink of her orange juice. She set down the glass and raised an eyebrow. "How come you aren't as bad as I am?"

"Oh, my dear Sydney, my parents weren't completely french. My father was third generation Irish, Irish don't get drunk." Sydney shrugged as she set the orange juice down on the tray and she then took a piece of the almost burnt toast and smeared it with butter. "But you came pretty close to an Irishman. Francie was out after the third cocktail but you weren't even touched after you drank half the bottle. They say it's all genetics how you hold the liquor."

"My dad use to do a pretty good job at it," Sydney muttered under her breath. She couldn't remember her mother's death that well, she made her subconscious forget that awful night but she certainly knew the outcome of her death all too well. She was ten when things got back to normal and even then everything was changed. And it only seemed normal because she finally got a nanny to live at home with her. From those years before her Nanny, she could remember the whiskey in the morning and the scotch at dinner, those dinners that her father actually spent with her.

He was a wreck.

Why could she remember that so well and not the moment she knew of her mother's death? Perhaps she didn't need to remember her mother's death because it didn't happen in front of her, the death of her beloved father was much more visible and painful.

"Francie?" Sydney asked.

"She went home in a taxi, but you insisted on coming home with me." Vaughn pointed out proudly.

"And we..." Sydney paused.

"Beautifully."

Sydney moaned as the back of her head dug into the pillow. "You were rather aggressive, even in the bar." Vaughn laughed.

"I'm sure I was."

What should she blame it on? The vodka? The hidden sexual frustration of celibacy for almost two years? The tensions between Julian Lazerey and herself? The stress of her job?

She's blaming it on the vodka. How pathetic would she be if she blamed it on anything else.

"And the little thing you did with your tongue was fantastic."

What the hell did she do with her tongue? She was oblivious to that.

"And..."

Sydney put her hand up to the air to stop him. She didn't want to know what else she did even though she was amazed that she was capable of it.

"Vaughn, where exactly did you transfer from?"

Sydney put the toast down and took another sip of her orange juice cocktail.

"I had a long term mission in Barcelona."

"That's why I never saw you around." Sydney concluded.

"So, how new are you?"

"Well, I came into the agency six months ago. I've been Agent Lazerey's secretary since."

"You're his secretary! Oh, I see. That means you're in advance placement."

"Yep, I got six more months to go." Sydney cheered.

"And are you in training?"

"I finished training a month ago."

"Wow." Vaughn remarked.

"I'm a fast learner." Sydney winked.

The two smiled at each other for the longest time. Sydney couldn't help but find him friendly and warm, everything Julian Lazerey was not. He even made her breakfast in bed, how hospitable and comforting he was. And, of course, he was cute. At least she didn't have a one night stand with someone that wasn't attractive.

Sydney was about to ask another question until both of their phones rang at the same time. Sydney motioned to her purse that was on the edge of the bed. Vaughn got up from sitting on the side of the bed and handed it to her. He went to his pocket of his pants that were laying on the floor to fetch his cellphone.

Vaughn looked at his and silenced it while Sydney looked at her caller ID screen.

Lazerey, Julian

"Damn it."

Sydney opened her phone and slowly put it against her ear.

"Sydney, where the hell are you?" Sydney winced from the volume.

"At home, it's a Saturday."

"I would be home as well if you didn't fill out my order incorrectly."

Sydney was surprised at his voice. It was vindictive and unforgiving, and for a moment it resembled her father's voice only in a regional accent. Julian never spoke to her as if she had failed or disappointed him. It reminded her of all the nasty moments that her father found her fixing a B to an A on her report card, another when he found out that she horribly picked the lock to the liquor cabinet and two of the bottles were completely empty, or the worst, when he found her making out with her best friend Regina (well, he was more surprised and clueless than upset but the look he gave her for the rest of the month was quite unsettling).

"I didn't..."

"I leave it you to fix it, Miss Bristow. Quickly, I might add."

He hung up on her. She snapped her phone shut, finished off her orange juice, and then went searching for her underwear.

"My boss just called me in. I have to go in to fix some things."

She couldn't find her bra, but she found her red silk dress. She brought the satin up to her nose and found the scent of alcohol and cigarettes. What did I do last night? Sydney thought.

Vaughn went to his closet and found a tee-shirt and a pair of drawstring pants and gave them to her. Sydney looked at his offer and took them. As she was putting the tee-shirt over her head, Vaughn took the dress and hung it up in his closet.

"Wear those to go home and allow me to dry-clean your dress."

Sydney looked hesitant down at the sweats she wore and the red dress hanging up in her closet.

"It was my mother's dress." Sydney warned.

"And I promise that it will get to you in better shape than it is right now. Please." Vaughn walked from the closet towards Sydney, giving her a kiss on the cheek and letting his hand run under the shirt Sydney borrowed. His hand went up the side of her waist and she welcomed his thumb to the curve under her breast with a slight moan. "It promises me that I get to see you again."

Sydney blushed the most reddish shade her face could glow. "Really?"

Vaughn laughed. "Yes, really? Why wouldn't I?"

"It's not about the sex is it?" Sydney widened her eyes.

"No." Vaughn shook his head. "We'll have a real date. I'll take you out to dinner or a movie." He put his forehead to hers and took a deep breath in. "I want to see you again, Sydney."

"Okay." Sydney nodded. Vaughn thanked her by leaning in and giving her a long lingering kiss. Sydney couldn't help but roll into her toes and meet his height. When they broke the kiss Sydney spoke, "I have to go."

"I'll see you, okay?"

Sydney found her heels and slipped them on, she winced when she felt a new blister on the side of her toe. Vaughn face light up as he found a pair of sandals and gave them to Sydney. Sydney didn't hesitate when she slipped the pair off and wore the sandals, even if they were wide and large on her feet.

"Bye Sydney. I'll call you." He said as Sydney headed out of the bedroom to the front door.

"You don't have my number." Sydney said as she opened the door, her body half out, ready to leave.

"I'll find it." He kissed her cheek one last time and Sydney smiled with glee as she closed the door.

Vaughn bolted the door as he usually did and returned to his room to find his cellphone. He must of laid it on the bed when he was helping Sydney get her things. What was it with that girl? One minute she very humble and quiet and she could turn into a normal college student just with a good drink and the right company. She was responsible and content with her job but was she too young?

Vaughn found his phone and flipped it open, he knew who it was and where they had to meet but he just looked at the text message, reassuring his prediction.

131

Vaughn looked around his apartment one last time. He felt something foamy under his foot, he bent down the pick the object up and realized it was Sydney's bra, just tucked neatly under his bed.

He took it and put it in his drawer.

Hopefully she wouldn't miss it.

Sark returned from Kuwait with his heavy suitcase and a small cut on his arm, though concealed by his suit. He had a schedule, a order of things, that he had to accomplish to call his day normal. He would take his prized car to work, park in the upper level parking lot, go through security at the back entrance, pass Sydney's desk and greet her in the morning, collect his messages as he traded his blackberry for her to update with a new daily schedule, come to his office and collect his inbox as Sydney ordered his coffee, and he would continue with unpredictable job.

This morning he did the same. Drive to work, go through the back entrance, go through security, and when he went to get his messages he hoped that Sydney would greet him with a gaiety smile and cater to him as she did every other morning.

She smiled, but it wasn't the same as before. Her smiles were of appreciation and amusement as he flirted with her or said some cocky, or perhaps inappropriate comment.

"Good Morning, Miss Bristow." He watched her look up from her computer. She gave him a yellow piece of paper full of numbers and contact names as he search into his pocket to hand her his PDA.

"Good Morning, Mr Lazerey." Sark felt that it just wasn't as welcoming as it use to be. She took the electronic device he offered her and then reach over to the other side of her desk to give him a croissant and side of orange juice. He could remember the first day Sydney gave him breakfast at the office.

Sark came in the office and despite his boss's plea for him to stay home and return to better health, he ignored them and returned to his office only a day after his disastrous mission. Sydney had found her niche automatically on the first day she was brought in and since then she had been the best secretary he could possibly ask for. He greeted Sydney at her desk in front of his office. He expected her to smile, hand him his messages, and do as every other normal day. Instead when she saw him above her desk she got on her feet surprised of his presence in the office.

"Mr Lazerey! What are you doing here! I thought you would at least take the day off from your arrival back." Sydney exclaimed. He ignored her as he ignored all the other astonished individuals that morning, and went to his office.

"I'm fine, Miss Bristow." He said as he took off his jacket with a slight moan from his injured shoulder.

"You're not fine." Sydney put her hands on her hips and watched him sit in his chair like an elderly man. She warmed up to him as she walked around to the side of his desk. "You look like you haven't eaten anything for days."

"I ate on the plane." He covered his eyes, which he assumed carried large dark circles from his lack of sleep.

"Was it..." Sydney shut her mouth, knowing the question was adolescent.

"Was it, what?" Sark restated her question. "Come now, what was it?" He said annoyed.

Sydney looked away and swallowed. "Was it hard? I know it was, it was a stupid question. What I mean was, how did you come back alive?"

Sark looked up at her. Her eyes were full of curiosity and possibly fright. She knew one day she would be held in the same situation, possibly worse. She was not questioning him, she was questioning herself.

"When you're held in a situation such as that. When you're held captive for days without water, food, light, or communication you have to keep your mind sane. It's easy the first few days, but after a week passes and they work you down with torture, you think of what pleases you. What is your fondest memory Sydney?"

Sydney watched his eyes search hers. Sark watched her look away and then back at his as her lips grew into a small smile. "My parents. Together. We were out by the ocean."

"Tell me more."

"Mom was wearing one of her floral dresses and Dad looked so happy and young. He use to have black hair, jet black and Mom's hair use to curl around my fingers. No one was there when we went. It was a school day. Mom and I both skipped because Dad had the day off and we all wanted to spend it together. The whole day I collected seashells, my mother kept them in my little pail, my father and I built sandcastles and chased me around the wet sand, and I loved it."

"What did you eat?"

"We went out to eat. I had hamburgers and fries. I couldn't eat all of mine so my mother finished it. Dad had fish, I remember it because I hate the smell of it. I can't remember what my mother had."

Sydney's eyes looked in the corner of the room as if the room would open up and create a beach in the horizon just from her memory.

"That, that is how you survive, Sydney." Sark told her. Sydney looked back at him with confusion. "You think about where you rather be, the past, and not what they are going to do to you or how to get out. That would come when the time is right. But when they got you and doing everything possible to cause pain to your body, you think about that."

Sydney stopped looking confused and took the advice to her memory.

"Look at you, you look five pounds lighter. You just..." Sydney shook her head as she walked towards the door. "I'll get you some food, you must at least eat something. I believe in the power of comfort foods."

Ever since he came back from that mission she had supplied some sort of pastry and orange juice for the pure sugar and uplifting taste. She was always eating something from her desk, a small bag of polish cookies or a packed lunch if the work load was tough. Sydney would always offer some, and he would always decline, he was not a believer in American comfort food as everyone else was.

But that morning, the croissant was stale and the flavor of the orange juice horribly lacked. Even his coffee tasted a little old.

As he was going through his paperwork he couldn't help but remember the night of the gala. How fake Lauren was with her snide comments and looks and he couldn't stop thinking of the lowly Agent Vaughn. How perfectly ironic. He was fully aware of who Michael Vaughn was, or perhaps who his father was as well. Sydney had to find him. Not find him but actually fall for him as well.

How bloody ironic.

The man is a incompetent clud. He didn't even know her favorite restaurant, a restaurant I got her cooking lessons at. What if they're sleeping together? I wonder if he touches her the right way, that he comments on her beautiful legs, kisses her in the crook of the neck, runs his hands down her back...damn it.

I would love to get him in the act, watching him kiss her, watching his hands roam her body, and then just with a simple bullet ending his life right there.

Sydney wouldn't like it too much, if only she had her mother's dark sense of humor.

He didn't expect to be interrupted in his fantasy. His fantasy, that's what he called killing Michael Vaughn. There was a time when he would have called it disturbing, but his exposed him to the dark side of things. But she came in, storming in a blaze of fury. Sydney was amazing when was angry, it was the very first moment he witnessed it. He expected her and seen her to be poised and calm, like her mother. He never expected her to be angry or impatient. Yes, those were the words to describe her.

She stood in front of his desk, her hands crossed over her chest and her jaw locked as she scowled at him.

"What the hell were you thinking when you told Sloane I would be delighted to work in the archives?"

Oh, yes. He remembers why she was so angry. That Saturday, after the gala, he talked to Sloane about Sydney's desired wish to help out SD-6 even further. That Sydney was pleading with him to take some of her secretarial work down to the basement and help file old paperwork into the database, helping the transition from old debriefs and mission specs to data information. Sloane questioned why Sydney would take up such dull work, and Sark supplied the reason was because she would have liked to learn about past missions and how they were successful or why they failed. Sloane smiled about learning about Sydney's yearning for furthering her education at SD-6. Sloane told him it was impossible for her to take off her secretarial work, needed for the program, but perhaps if she wished to stay after that she could.

Sark knew when Sloane propositioned her he knew Sydney couldn't refuse. Or wouldn't. Possibly too afraid to impose that she wasn't willing to work hard as a trainee and impress him and the agency. Sydney was a people-pleaser. It's was probably why she was such a fantastic secretary.

"Were you drunk off of some ninety-eight dollar bottle of wine?" She said with aggravation.

Sark sat up straight in his chair and buttoned the front of his suit. "I was not intoxicated, Miss Bristow. Don't assume I was because of an action you find disagreeable."

His accent was heavy and his voice was sharp, which angered Sydney even more. "Don't patronize me. I'm not a child, and you're not my father!"

"I wouldn't if you didn't interrupt me so informally. You could have knocked." Sark pointed out.

"I could have broken your arm instead, so be thankful." Sydney countered. Sark looked away giving a stiff cackle. "Tell me." Sydney ordered.

Sark looked back at her, looked up and down, she reminded him of wealth and power. How intoxicating she was, better than a 'ninety-eight dollar bottle of wine'. "You're magnificent."

Sydney was taken aback and questioned him with surprise, "What?"

"The proper term is, excuse me, and tell me, Miss Bristow. How dedicated are you in becoming an agent? Because an action like this can hinder you in ever becoming one."

Sydney's eyes betrayed her. They weren't angry, they were confused and surprised. She wasn't naive, she knew his word meant so much in becoming an agent. If she failed him, she failed the program. She'll have to start at square one.

"You wouldn't do that." Sydney said doubtfully.

"But you know I can." Sark said in victory. "And since you know I can, you better knock next time."

Just like a Derevko, they have to be successfully threatened and countered before they settle down. If not done properly, it only upsets them even more.

"You still did not answer my question." Sydney reminded.

"Well, I know your dedication towards your profession, or achieving your future profession. I assumed you would be excited to show that to Mr Sloane, and perhaps gain some insight into past missions. I apologize if I mistaken your adherence." Sark looked down at his paperwork and shifted in his seat as if he was returning to his work, which he wasn't.

"You know because of the hours I had to maintain because I was archiving mission almost a decade old, I had to miss three dates with Vaughn and two dinners with Francie. Not to mention going through basement security, that guard loves to frisk." Sydney said in disgust.

He was sympathetic that she was taken advantage of by a guard, he'll have to make a mental note, but in no way was he empathetic to her social life with Agent Vaughn.

It was his plan the whole time.

"You should have thought that through before you decided to take up franization with a coworker. Your work comes first Sydney, or perhaps I had your priorities mistaken."

Sydney thinned her lips, "No, you don't have my priorities mistaken."

He smiled in victory as she turned his back to him and exited his office.

Brilliant.

Sydney felt like giving a good thrashing right on his desk, in front of everyone if necessary. He was the type that never got a good spanking as a child and got everything handed to him. That angered her beyond belief. Everyone believed that she was handed everything, an private education, summer camps in France, and perhaps her clothes. Her private education was a way to get rid of her. Finishing schools were disguised as a summer camps, her father's way of saying she was too shy and her social life was important. Perhaps it was, but did she really need to learn flower arrangement, table etiquette, and international relations? (Well perhaps the latter). And her clothes, well she didn't have a closet full of Ann Taylor, Banana Republic, and The Gap for all of her adolescence, it was just a rather nice way of her father telling her not to wear her mother's clothes, no matter how big they were on her as a child.

No one really knew her, and Sark certainly didn't. Well, he did know the right ways to push her buttons, Sydney had to admit.

Sydney sat down at her desk. How could he do this to her? How long would she be working in the basement? How long would it take before Sloane noticed her persistence?

She rested her face in the palm of her hand and took a look around her organized desk. Did she have a life out of this job?

Her eyes bolted from her paperwork towards Sark's blackberry. Could she...would she?

Sydney picked it up and turned it on, she knew Sark couldn't remember even Lauren's birthday without his PDA or her reminding him.

Sydney turned out of her chair and walked through the eighth floor and went towards an closed sets of office and opened it without even looking if it was occupied. She found him, however, his head bent over a microscopic light over a board of circuits. She touched his should and he bolted up, his tweezers falling from his fingers and bumping his light away. He looked at her with surprise.

"Miss Bristow...Sydney...Miss Bristow?"

"Sydney, fine." She said. She took a look around and smiled. "Nice."

"Oh, thanks Miss Bristow, I mean, Sydney."

"It's okay, Marshall."

"What can I do you for, it's not everyday a pretty lady comes into my office. Not saying other agents aren't pretty, or that you're pretty in a harassment suit way, I'm just commenting on your looks...what I mean is..."

"Marshall?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you." Sydney smiled. He nodded comfortingly. Sydney held up the PDA for him. Marshall took it and began looking at it as if it was a prized foreign object. "It's my boss's."

"Reckon it would be. I didn't even know they released it yet. Titanium with an aluminum battery. This thing is indestructible, not even a bullet can get through this. It would be a perfect shield." Marshall held it onto his chest. "I mean pow, it wouldn't even get through this baby."

"Marshall, could you do a favor, possibly a secret?" Sydney offered.

"Secrets, oooohhh, yeah. I mean we work with secrets every day. Yeah, I guess so. Anything for you, Miss Bristow. I mean Sydney."

"Is there a way you can get a virus onto that." She motion towards the blackberry. "It's a computer right? Is there a way you can get a worm on it."

"You want a virus or a worm?" He said with disbelief, not that she would do something like that, but said with impressment. "Why?"

"See, that's the secret you can't share. See, I when I'm put on overtime without my consent, I get a little upset." Sydney said with a smile.

He was put off for a second. Sydney Bristow, a beautiful and intelligent agent-or soon to be agent, was crazed with anger.

"That's why you want a worm on your boss's PDA?" He clarified.

"Yes."

He went to his computer, no hesitation showed as he connected the PDA by the many different sorts of cradles he had in his computer. "To tell you the truth Miss Bristow, I did the same. To my father's computer. He wouldn't let me go to the comic book convention downtown, understandable because I was thirteen at the time, and downtown, well, it's pretty scary. Well my dad had a massive IBM computer, huge thing, probably would weigh a good hundred pounds. I put a virus on that thing and like zap, all of his files were gone. It was nice, he was so busy that he didn't even realize I snuck out of the house to go with my pals down. I dressed like Spock."

Sydney smiled. "I would have seen you as Captain Kirk."

Marshall blushed at the compliment. "Well...Dr. Spock was pretty bad-ass."

"Of course, just like you are now doing this for me." Sydney said with gratitude.

"I got the perfect one for you too." Sydney watched him open the DOS program and him running the binary codes back and forth on the screen. He worked fast, changing the numbers to customize for the blackberry. "It's a simple worm, not to much to it. Just enough to make an impact." He told Sydney as he finished the codes and she saw it being update into the PDA. Sydney took it off the cradle when he was done and it sat warm in her hand.

"So, what type is it?" Sydney asked.

"It's a good virus. Every time he tries to access a day, event, or schedule it will show when he searches for the details it will turn off. Every time he gets a message and is about to open it, it turns off. Every time he even tries to send a message it will turn off when he presses the send button. It's quite frustrating."

"It's perfect. You're a genius." Sydney said happily. "Thank you so much, Marshall, you're a sweetheart."

"Hate to be your boss." Marshall said. "Not to say I wouldn't, I mean I would. It would be great. I would love have been your boss but it would suck if you did this to me, but of course there would be another Marshall. Is there another Marshall?"

Sydney laughed. "No, there is only one Marshall. One Marshall I would ever go to that is."

Marshall looked confused and then smiled. "Oh, that's me."

Sydney took another look at the PDA and then left the office. She knew Marshall was competent enough to keep it a secret. Even though Marshall was not a secretary he was apart of the large percentage of those who were only employed to serve field agents, which meant taking a lot of responsibility and sometimes tripe from those who had higher rank.

Ridiculous power trip, that's what he had.

Sydney returned to her desk just as the phone was ringing off it's hook. She picked it up and put it to her ear before she even sat down.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Syd."

Sydney's heart beat even faster as she smiled with glee at the familiar voice.

"Hi, Vaughn. How are you?"

"Busy as hell, Dixon and I just got off the plane and I'm stuck doing the debrief with Sloane."

Sydney could hear another voice laugh and says something among the lines that Vaughn suggested he write it.

"Nonsense, why would I do that?"

"Because your considerate and remarkably kind." Sydney told him.

"Do you hear that, Dixon? It's because I'm considerate and remarkably kind." He shared another laugh with his partner and returned to his conversation.

"Was it successful?" Sydney asked vaguely.

"We had some technicalities, but it went alright in the end."

Sydney assumed the worst. "Are you hurt? Is it serious?"

"No, Syd." He pleaded. "Just a few scratches, part of the job, that's all."

Sydney leaned into her desk. "I want to see you tonight."

She heard him sigh. "I want to see you too."

"I'm sorry I've been so busy, but my boss is being such a jerk."

"Yeah, because he knows your seeing me."

Sydney denied it. "No, give him a powertrip in a bad mood and he's suddenly better. Isn't the first time."

"Can you see me soon?" Vaughn asked her. "Tell me and we'll go."

"I thought you were busy."

"I don't care. I miss you."

Sydney smiled. "We've only been together for two weeks."

"And I miss you."

Sydney smile grew into a grin as she held the phone closer to her mouth. "I miss you too."

Just as she spoke that, Sark closed the office door behind him and stood above Sydney. She jumped as she heard the door close and look up to see him, his eyes annoyed by her inappropriate conversation. It didn't take too long for Sydney to realize he was needing his PDA. She watched the electronic device being held in his palm, successfully organized and corrupted.

Sydney returned to her conversation over the phone.

"Let's go to Santa Barbara this Friday. We'll stay until Sunday night, just us and the beach." He offered.

"Santa Barbara? It's like fifty degree's outside. You want to go to the beach?"

"Ah, fifty degree's isn't that cold. It doesn't matter, we'll stay in a nice hotel, have dinner, and not be interrupted."

"This friday?"

"I'll make the reservations. I make you so happy that you'll never want to leave me."

He hung up the phone on her, making her wait in anticipation.

Sark watched her put down the phone after her conversation was over. He listened that far in that he knew that she was leaving this Friday for Santa Barbara. He knew he couldn't make her stay, and he certainly would if he could. However he could do a lot more than just ground her at SD-6 and making her shuffle paperwork.

He went back into his office and took his cellphone out of his pocket and speedialed his fiancee's number.

"Lauren, love. Irina wants us to go away for a while...where, Santa Barbara."