A/N: This deals with the aftermath of the Lauren double agent news. Some S/V, then some major arguments. If anyone is getting confused, every other chapter is basically going to be a flashback until I work up to where I started the story.
(Sydney)
I watched on the monitor in the rotunda: Lauren was being held in the same cell my mother had occupied. Vaughn paced back and forth along the glass barrier, looking hurt and confused. The sound had been turned off, but I didn't bother turning it back on. I could surmise the gist of the conversation.
It hadn't taken long to validate Sark's intel. It was Lauren who shot Sark's father, and Lauren who betrayed our mission in Korea. She had maintained her innocence, and she played the part well. All doe eyes and meek voice, with a dose of patriotism when it played to her cause. But she failed the fMRI polygraph.
I heard footfalls approaching, heavy and even. My father, I guessed. He stopped next to me, and watched the screen with me.
"Dad…"
I wondered if he saw some of himself in Vaughn. It was the same betrayal he suffered when Laura Bristow, loving and devoted wife, turned out to be Irina Derevko, Russian spy.
"Sydney, I just wanted to let you know we've found hard evidence condemning Lauren Reed. Surveillance footage shows her accessing the building across the street from the hospital where Lazarey was killed, toting what appears to be a rifle case."
"Surveillance? Dad, how could she be so sloppy?"
"It was actually from a camera in a bank across the street, not in the building itself. I assume Lazarey's assassination was a rush job. The Covenant could not have known his location far in advance."
"Why didn't we catch this earlier?"
"Lauren headed the team that investigated his murder."
"Oh."
"Sydney, are you free for dinner tomorrow tonight? There are some things I'd like to discuss." Sark, of course.
"Yes."
"Good. I'll pick you up at seven."
He briefly put a hand on my shoulder, then walked away. I stared at the screen for a while longer, trying to sift through my emotions.
(Sark)
I waited two rings before picking up the phone.
"Agent Bristow. As always, it's a pleasure to hear from you."
"Can it, Sark. This is just business."
"And what is wrong with mixing business with pleasure?" I tried to use my sultriest bedroom voice. I loved to get under her skin.
"I won't even deign to answer that."
"Was there a reason for this call? Not that I don't enjoy our witty banter, but I am a busy man." She was going to agree to work with me. But of course she couldn't come right out and say. She had that famous Bristow stubbornness and pride.
"We verified the information on Lauren Reed."
"Ahh…and how is Agent Reed enjoying the CIA's wonderful hospitality?"
"How far back did it go? Was she assigned to seduce Vaughn? Did she know what they did to me this whole time?" She was getting angry: her voice was loud but tight.
"Now who's mixing business with pleasure?"
She emitted a short, bitter laugh, and replied, "Destroying the Covenant is personal for both of us."
"Are you agreeing to work with me?"
"Yes." I could imagine that word spat forth from a clenched jaw.
"Sydney Bristow, working for the enemy."
"Let's get something straight, Sark. You may be providing most of the intel for these operation, but I am not working for you. You are not my boss. If I believe you are hiding things from me or using me to further some greater scheme, I will not hesitate to put a bullet in your brain."
"I would expect no less from you. But, really, what grander plot could I possibly come up with?"
"I don't know. But if there is one, we will find out."
"We? Surely you didn't tell the CIA about our collaboration."
"My father knows the truth. To the CIA you'll be just another of his informants."
"Fine. I don't have anything quite yet, but when I do I'll contact you."
"I'll give you my cell phone—"
"I already have it. Until next time, Sydney."
I hung up the phone before she could get in the last word. If nothing else, this venture would be very interesting. I would be slowly killing off my superiors in the organization, while at the same time desperately struggling to maintain their trust in me, and juggling the urchin that is Sydney Bristow. She had never shown me anything but contempt and distrust, and I hadn't done much to dissuade her from that view. But under our sarcasm and attempts at killing each other, I had to admit I admired her, and I had the feeling she admired me as well, as a worthy adversary.
(Sydney)
"I already have it. Until next time, Sydney."
And then he hung up on me. I desperately wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his face. Me work for him? For him? He had another thing coming if he expected me to follow orders without asking any questions and always be at his beck and call. Fighting him hadn't killed me, but working with him just might. If the Covenant didn't kill me first…
I banished the thought from my head as best as I could. This could work, I tried to remind myself. The information he had access to, his skill as an operative, his convincing façade of loyalty…it would be so easy to continue his role as a valued operative while killing off his superiors one by one. That is, assuming he was being honest with me…Another dangerous line of thought. But for once I wanted to believe him.
My phone rang, the landline, and I ran to the kitchen counter to pick it up.
"Sydney…"
"Vaughn. You sound awful."
"I'm just having a really rough time."
"Of course. Anyone would."
"Maybe. How could I have fallen for it, Syd?"
"It's not your fault. You can't blame yourself. She had all of us fooled."
"But of anyone, I should have seen it. I lived with her for a year."
"No, Vaughn. Of anyone, you had the biggest reason not to see it. You were in love." It hurt me to say it, to comfort him with that. "Of course you wouldn't expect the woman you love to betray you like that." And I thought of my mother, of how convincing she was, to me and to my father. And how much it hurt to find out so much of that life had been a lie. But not her love. And I million questions burst into the open: did Lauren love Vaughn? I remembered the Caplans. She genuinely loved him, though she was assigned to him just like my mother was assigned to Dad, just like Lauren was probably assigned to Vaughn.
"I was in love with a woman who didn't exist."
There was a hard edge to his voice I had never heard before. He may have seen a lot in the CIA, suffered the loss of his father's death, but this was the first betrayal that hit so close to home.
"Let's do something together. See a movie, get smashed. How 'bout it?"
"Just not at my place. I don't want to go back to that."
"Come on over. You know where I am."
"Okay. I'll see you in a bit."
"Bye."
He showed up at my door an hour later with a bottle of tequila and a bottle of vodka. When he set the tequila down on the counter, and took the vodka, which was already down by a few ounces, with him to my couch. He collapsed and twisted off the cap, took a shot, and reached forward to slam it on the coffee table.
"I hope you didn't drive." No response. "Do you want a glass? Or some orange juice to mix?"
"No. This is fine."
I sat down next to him, put a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Vaughn."
He blinked and turned away from me. I just rubbed his shoulder, hoping it was enough. I never wanted this to happen to him. I felt betrayed when I came back and discovered he had moved on, but deep inside I knew it wasn't fair to blame him. I was dead. He spread my ashes on the beach himself. After a few seconds, he leaned forward to grab the bottle. Before he could take a slug I reached my hand out for it, took off the cap and grimaced as its numbing fire moved down my throat. He took the bottle from me and took another shot.
We drank in silence, passing the vodka back and forth until maybe a third of the bottle was gone. Vaughn had more than me. I knew alcohol wasn't the best way for him to deal, but in the short term it would feel pretty damn good. Better than whatever was really inside, at any rate.
"Sydney, I never stopped loving you. I still love you and I meant what I said in Korea. Nothing will ever keep us apart, we will always find our way back here." His hands were in my hair, his lips mere inches from mine, and when he finally melded his lips to mine it was like coming home: his strong hands on my back, his soft lips and broad chest. With an effort I broke off contact, pushed him back to speak to him.
"What if Lauren really loved you? What if you became more to her than a mark?"
"That doesn't matter. We have another chance, Syd. It can be how it was supposed to be." He leaned towards me again, took my face in his hands, his deliciously calloused yet oh so gentle hands.
"You can leave behind in a day what took a year to build? You married her, Vaughn. How long after you found out I was dead?"
"That doesn't matter. We can be together now."
I turned my face into his hand, wishing I could believe him, wishing we could pick up where we left off. But everything was different now.
"It does matter. Not long after I died you were with her. And now, the very day you find out the truth about her, you come back here to me. I'm convenient for you."
"I love you, Syd." He placed a feather light kiss on my forehead. "I wish I could make you see that I love you."
"I love you too, Vaughn. But it doesn't matter. That's not the issue. We can't do this again. I won't do this again, especially not right now."
I leaned into him, a hand around his shoulder. When I said it, it became so real. He rested his chin on my head, but the contact was different. Comfort. Friendship. He sighed. We stayed like that for maybe half an hour before he broke the silence.
"Syd, I wish…Syd, oh, god, Syd, I…I think I'm going to be sick…"
He ran to my bathroom and spent the next half hour worshipping the great porcelain god. I sat with him and gave him water and mouthwash when he was done. He stayed kneeling on the floor, possibly to unsteady to stand up quite yet.
"I hope I haven't make a fool of myself."
"Just a little," I couldn't help but laugh a bit.
"I'm sorry for anything—"
"No," I reached a hand towards his shoulder, "you have nothing to apologize for."
"So…we're fine? Friends still? No more awkwardness?"
"Of course we're friends. Now let's get Weiss over and have some pizza before you start drinking again."
"I will not be drinking anymore tonight."
This time I laughed outright. Weiss, pepperoni pizza and beer, people actually over at my apartment, sitting on my brand new furniture. It felt good. It felt comfortable. We were friends again, in a way we hadn't been since I came back. Only when I thought of the huge secret I was keeping from them did the picture fade a little.