Part 5

"Sloan's sending me to Luxembourg to hit a secure storage facility," Sydney said hopping onto the crate across from Vaughn as he sat in the folding chair waiting for her arrival. He smiled softly not trying to hide the once over as his eyes scanned her figure. His back was to the camera which afforded him a little bit of freedom with his gaze. Her blazer was left behind, the black, form-fitting button-up shirt professional and slimming as it dipped down her waist before diving into the top of her knee-length grey skirt.

She pulled a file from her purse and passed it over, the pair allowing their fingers to brush underneath the thick cardstock before he settled back and looked through the papers. "What for?"

"There's this box of discs he wants me to locate from a former K-Directorate associate that he thinks is back in the game, this time as a free agent. His explanation was that we needed to keep the information out of the hands of terrorists, but I'm fairly sure he just wants the contacts on the discs for new weapon or tech trade deals."

Michael nodded as he read, Sydney taking her own opportunity to study his features, a small smile tilting her lips. She'd journeyed from the worry lines of his forehead to his cheekbones and was settling on the dimpled chin when he caught her staring.

"Enjoying the view?"

"Immensely. Did you see it?"

He frowned, the wrinkles popping back up. "See what?" Not wanting to be bested, he looked back down at the pages.

"Page three. I knew I'd seen that location before," she spoke quickly in excitement and pulled another batch of paperwork from her purse. She was thankful for the tenth time that day that she'd grabbed the bigger of her bags on the way out the door. "It's a match to a piece of intel you and my father got last week. That's the same storage facility where the Alliance keeps their data cache."

"No."

She nodded with a devilish smile. "It's there. Everything is there."

Michael held up his hand seeing the excitement in her eyes. "Hang on, let's think about this a bit before rushing in with a Seal team."

"I'm already going to be there, Vaughn, I can just-"

"No," he dismissed, his eyes scanning the page again. Realizing it came out harsher than he intended he looked up to see a frown darkening her features. "I mean...I don't think it's a good idea. Yet. We don't have any time to prepare for this; you leave in four hours. We have no clue about the security, what you'll need to access the floor, or even the room where the Alliance keeps the cache. It may be multiple rooms and you'll shoot your timetable trying to get it all done without tipping off Dixon."

She pulled back her anger a bit. "Vaughn, this could be it; this could be the thing that makes everything worth it."

"I know, Syd, but losing you to get it doesn't work for me. Just...give me time, okay? A couple of hours to look into things. If I can get something together before you leave we can meet again to go over the details."

She sighed and he saw her defenses drop a bit, disappointment in her eyes. "Okay," she acquiesced.

"Really?"

Surprise crossed her face, "what?"

"You're...not gonna fight me at all?"

She rolled her eyes, a soft smile playing at her lips, and stood looping her purse over her shoulder preparing to leave. "I thought about it, but ever since the cabin you going all protector makes me feel fuzzy instead of frustrated. Which is annoying."

Michael laughed and stood, opening the gate door for her, following until they reached their little nook to the right of the exit. Their things hit the floor and arms wrapped around one another, each letting out a pent up sigh. She could feel the tension in his shoulders slowly give way under her hands as she tucked her nose against his throat letting the scent of his aftershave close her eyes.

"Can you promise me something?" Her whisper pulled him from the intimate moment and he leaned back with a nod, cupping her cheek and brushing his thumb across her freckled cheekbone. "I want you to really consider this. An occasional kiss in the off-camera corner of the warehouse isn't the relationship I want to have for the next who knows how many years."

He agreed with a crooked smile. "I promise. If I can figure it out, I'll let you break into their floor and steal their things."

"Vaughn," she grumbled, "I'm serious."

He frowned casting his attempt at humor aside as his other hand slid back down, wrapping around her waist. "Sydney, you are all I think about every day. I'm not going to stop trying to bring them down with you, and yes - if I can safely get you in and out, I'll make it happen. But...you have to promise me something in return," he ordered, his wary green gaze boring into her purple-lined eyes. "If I can't figure it out, if the intel doesn't come through, promise me you won't go down there and try anyway."

He felt her stiffen and begin to pull away, but his hands tightened around her lower back was and kept her in place even when her palms flattened against his chest. "Promise me," he ordered, though kept his tone soft with a hint of pleading.

"Vaughn-"

"Sydney, I know you. I know how determined you are, and so am I. Believe me when I say I want to take you to every restaurant in the city and to my apartment and everywhere in between, but I'll take who knows how many more years in the corner of this warehouse if it keeps you in the corner with me."

She groaned but he felt her body relax and lean back into his, "ugh, you're so annoying," she growled pressing her mouth to his for a brief kiss. "Promise me," he smiled against her mouth, set on enjoying their last few seconds together while also attempting to win the argument.

"Promise," she grumbled between kisses before pulling back, picking up her purse, and leaving.

...

Dixon sat quietly studying her face as she read over the mission details again, though he knew she'd memorized them before leaving the office earlier that day. The airport this afternoon was nearly wall to wall with moving passengers, the two agents seated in the waiting area to board the plane.

"Who's your new guy?" His question caught her off guard, her head tilting to the side as she eyed him with feigned surprise.

"You're my only guy," she joked with a dimpled grin looking back to the files.

A chuckle bubbled up from his chest as he crossed one leg over the other, the ankle resting just above his knee making him lean back in the seat. Tossing an arm over the back of her chair he leaned in so their conversation stayed private. "You have that glow again."

"Hard to glow when you're not seeing anyone," she quipped keeping her eyes from his by scanning another page of information she already knew.

"Yikes, it's going that well, huh?"

She sighed knowing he wasn't going to let it go. Deep inside she wanted to tell him that she was happy and excited but that it was brand new and they hadn't committed to anything quite yet. It was a half-truth, but she wasn't sure who was listening from where they sat, so she continued to play it off until her phone rang.

"Be right back," she mumbled, pulling it out of her purse and standing with a stretch.

"Tell him I say hi," Marcus chuckled grabbing the discarded folder from her seat and thumbing through the pages.

"Hello?"

"Hey." She wondered how long it would take for her heart to stop fluttering at his greeting. "I know it's at the buzzer, but I got it figured out. Jack's going to meet you in-country. He convinced Sloane that he'd seen some of the discs before and would be able to help corroborate the intel faster if he was there. He should be calling Dixon right now to inform him of the change in operations." Sydney looked up seeing her partner a couple of rows away reach into his pocket and answer his buzzing phone.

"Yep. So what's the plan?"

"You go through with whatever you've been tasked to do for Sloane. Dixon will be in the basement accessing the security systems, and Jack will coordinate from the van. Once you're both in place your dad should have about ten minutes to get to the third floor and access the Alliance intelligence. He and Kendall made a plan of most to least valuable intel and he'll go for the highest first, but you'll need to buy him some time. You'll be on the eighth floor, so take your time getting there."

"Okay."

"He'll have two-way devices for you both so you can communicate without Dixon getting wind of anything."

"Thank you," she sighed with relief, Dixon hanging up and rising as the flight attendant over the speaker announced boarding for the business class passengers. He looked to her and waved, "I gotta go."

"Be safe, Syd."

As the plane leveled off, Sydney sipped at the ginger ale watching the clouds pass underneath as Dixon sat engrossed in a book on his lap. Reaching into her purse she pulled out her chapstick. Feeling she click against her fingers, she activated the bug-killer. Tossing it back in knowing it was good for 90 seconds, she retrieved a book of her own and flipped it open, a heaving sigh leaving her lips and pulling her partner's attention.

"What's up?" His voice was low concern, though that went away as he saw her looking down at her book with a gentle smile bringing out the dimple on her left cheek.

"He's really great," she admitted not looking up from her reading.

Dixon laughed and leaned in to set a kiss to her temple. "Good. If he ever isn't, send him my way."

His heart was pounding and blood roared in his ears as he took the stairs two at a time, Jack's voice in his left ear intermingled with the struggling sounds of Sydney fighting.

"Hurry, Marcus," the father's voice was desperate, and though the climbing agent knew he meant well he also knew the frustration was stemming from the fact that the elder Bristow was stuck in the van.

Getting to the eighth floor in record time, his lungs and legs burning, he compartmentalized his age and slammed the recoded key-card over the reader to the right of the door. It flashed green and he turned the knob throwing it open with his shoulder.

His eyes adjusted from the dimly lit stairwell to the bright white of the hallway. The empty hallway. The storage facility was, thankfully, a giant box standing nearly ten stories, though most of that was underground. He'd gone from the basement to the eighth floor in around a minute, gasping breaths pulling much-needed oxygen into his lungs, but his worry wasn't over his cardio - it was over his partner who'd bitten off more than she could chew by the sound of things over the earpiece.

An echoing crash sounded ahead to the left, and he took off in a sprint. Rounding the corner he saw a giant hulk of a man standing between him and Sydney, the agent on her hands and knees at the guard's feet trying to catch her breath with a hand clutching her stomach. Hands with fingers like bananas picked her up by the back of the tactical vest and tossed her headfirst into the opposite wall as if she weighed nothing.

Momentum was his friend, Dixon running as hard and fast as his legs would push as he lowered his shoulder and caught the giant in the side. It was less of a tackle and more slamming shoulder-first into a brick wall of muscle and bone, but it was enough and the guard hit the floor with a wheezing thud as Marcus' shoulder knocked the wind from his lungs.

Clambering quickly to his feet, his legs feeling a bit like melting butter, Dixon turned concerned eyes on his partner. Sydney was upright with her back against the wall, a steady flow of blood leaving a red streak down her cheek to the angle of her jaw from a blunt crease splitting her left eyebrow. Her hands were in the process of taking off the heavy bulletproof tactical vest. If she really had to fight, it was far too bulky and limited too much of her movement.

"You...you okay?" His voice was quick as he panted, Dixon extending his arm to help her up intending to get out while the brute lay on the floor, but a split second later he felt like a truck slammed into his stomach knocking the air from his lungs and making stars dance at the edge of his vision. Sydney gasped as the guard held the dark-skinned agent by the vest, the only thing keeping him upright, the other giant fist shooting out to connect with his face. Blood sprayed from his lips as he hit the floor on his side, his arms struggling to push himself to his knees.

"Dix-," Sydney was cut off as the lumbering giant reached out and wrapped his hand easily around her throat. With her vest discarded he didn't have much else to grab, and prompted by the ache of his side, he decided that bringing the slight woman up to his level would be less painful than bending down.

She sucked in a ragged gasp the moment before he closed her throat with a granite grip, her heart pounding behind her eyes as the guy lifted until her face was level with his leaving her feet to dangle above the floor.

"Steal from us? You little bitch," His German was angry, though in her panic she wasn't able to translate what he'd said past a couple of words. She felt the massive fingers squeeze and knew she only had a handful of seconds to get loose. Marcus was struggling to get back on his feet and she could dimly hear her father's voice asking about their status behind the roaring in her ears. She kicked her leg out catching him in the stomach, but it just seemed to make him angrier. He took a step back, his grip ever tight bringing her with him, and then with a forceful push he slammed her back into the wall. Whatever air she had left would have been lost if his hand wasn't blocking the exit, and she winced at the pain of her shoulder blades and the already tender knot at the back of her head hitting the wall.

Mustering what strength she had left, she used the punched muscles of her sore stomach to swing her legs up and wrap them around the thick arm that was currently choking the life out of her. Assessing their positions in a fraction of a second, muscle memory kicked in. The only maneuver that would be successful would be a standing armbar, so she wrapped her legs up and around the tree-trunk-like limb, wedged her feet into his armpit, and pushed. This didn't loosen his clutching hand, black tinges creeping into the edge of her vision as her lungs burned desperate to take a breath. It did, however, force him to back up a half step and free her from his pushing hold against the wall.

Throwing her body left and lifting her hips with a sudden jerk against his elbow, she spun toward the floor. This caused his arm to rotate unnaturally, her hips forcing the elbow to bend the wrong way, and with the sudden spin of her weight she felt as well as heard the ulna snap.

His hand instantly released her throat and she dropped the rest of the way landing with a thud followed by a gulping gasp. Sucking air into her oxygen-starved body, the blackness faded away, hands grabbing at the back of her shirt trying to pull her up.

"Come on, what's it gonna take!?" She couldn't believe the guy had recovered so quickly but relaxed when Dixon's familiar voice wheezed in her ear.

"Let's go."

He kept an arm around her waist and all but dragged her coughing and gasping toward the stairwell. The howls of pain bounced off the walls from the writhing guard behind them, neither looking back.

Once through the door the mechanism locked, the LED switching from green to red. Sydney sunk to the floor clutching her side and squeezing her eyes closed and everything spun making it seem and feel like she was falling. Reaching back with her free hand she felt the knot at the back of her head, a remnant of the guard's surprise attack when finding her in the supposedly unguarded storage room. Dixon settled in the same fashion, Sydney cracking her eyes and peeking with a wince.

His right eye was already beginning to swell shut, the angry reddish purple welt starting above his cheekbone and surrounding the entire outside of the socket. Blood dribbled down his lips and chin from a bloody nose and, though it didn't look broken, it was hard to tell how bad the damage was from the low light and where she was sitting.

Dixon let his head fall back against the cool cement wall with a pained groan, his lungs still sucking in air from his run up the stairs as well as the punch to the gut. They both felt the need to move, though neither seemed to possess the energy at the moment.

"Thanks," she said, her voice gravelly as if she'd been screaming all night, and his head tipped in her direction to see the angry red finger marks on her throat and the still bleeding wound at the edge of her left eyebrow.

"You okay?" His question was equally as hoarse.

She grunted in response and sat up, managing to get on all fours as several drops of blood hit the floor between her hands. She frowned and poked around until she hit a tender spot, pulling her hand away with a wince at the red-stained fingertips. Pushing to stand the room spun, and she leaned into the wall in an effort to stay upright.

"That's a nasty concussion," his voice bounced off the angled stairs and closed-in walls, Sydney nodding in agreement with instant regret as her vision doubled and flipped forcing her to tightly close her eyes.

Below them, several stories, a door swung open hard and hit the wall behind it. "Let's go!" Jack's voice echoed up the stairs making the pair sigh, stumbling down to the parking garage and into the van.

"Did you get the discs?" Sloane's voice crackled over the speaker on the cell phone, Sydney and Dixon listening from their spots flopped atop the plush seats of the private jet, heads tipped back and eyes closed wallowing in pain and waiting desperately for the extra strength meds to kick in.

Dixon held a bag of ice wrapped in a towel against what amounted to his entire face with a second against his left side. Sydney had one tucked to her right ribs as the back of her head rested on another in an attempt to reduce the swelling knot, the hit giving her that plus a nasty concussion. The partners looked miserable, Jack mused, knowing they probably felt as bad as they looked. In that moment he was thankful that he'd joined the mission. Sure he was also excited about the information he'd managed to glean from the third floor, but there was no way either of them would have been able to drive the van out of that facility.

"The team was compromised."

"Compromised? It was essentially unguarded; what happened?" Both agents lifted their heads firing glares across the aisle at the phone in Jack's hand, the older Bristow sending them a compassionate wince.

"The point is we didn't get the discs. What's the next move?"

Arvin sighed on the other end, the brief silence making Jack check the screen to ensure the call hadn't dropped. The pair dropped their heads back, Sydney groaning and flinching as the tender bump came into rough contact with the lumpy cold bag.

"Come home, there will be a car waiting at the airport. Sydney and Marcus, check into medical when you get here and we'll prepare a cover story for your injuries; send me a list. I'm disappointed...but glad that you're all okay." With that he hung up, Jack closing the phone and setting it to the small table before turning to face them both.

"Thanks for getting us out, Jack," Dixon said, his voice muffled behind the ice pack. Pulling it away, the twisted paper towel sticking out from his nostril acting as a quick fix to stop the bleeding nose, Jack winced at the man's face.

"Diane is going to lose her mind," Jack commented with a wry grin. Sydney closed her eyes, her father patting her knee and making her jump, "don't fall asleep, sweetheart; you can't with that concussion."

"I was...just gonna rest my eyes," she grumbled in response, her father taking in her words for a moment before a rolling chuckle left his lips.

Cracking her eyes back open she saw the mirth on his face. "What?"

"You used to say that when you were a little girl," he mused. "We went to war every afternoon getting you down for a nap, and we always knew you were about to fall asleep when you would pout and announce that you were just going to sleep your eyes. I think you felt better when it was your decision to nap, and not one we made for you." Leaning back in his seat he picked up the small plastic cup of bourbon and ice, the liquor burning his throat.

Dixon joined with a chuckle, though held his ribs in pain giving up a moment later. "Well, I don't have a concussion, so I'm going to sleep this off."

"I'm not sure that's how it works," Sydney sent him a lop-sided grin, her friend shrugging. Rising on stiff legs he moved to the back of the plane and settled onto one of the short sofa seats, the ice pack settled back over his face. A few quiet moments passed until he began to snore, Sydney sitting up with a wince as she found herself unable to hide the excitement from her eyes, the right more dilated than the left and looking very lopsided. Shaking her head to rid the blurry dizziness, she looked around until finding what she wanted.

"Grab my purse," she ordered, Jack frowning at her sudden demand, but followed orders anyway placing it onto her lap.

"We should change that gauze," he mumbled as his eyes took in the blood-soaked pad he'd taped over her eyebrow, the edge beginning to brown indicating that the bleeding had stopped. He watched her fumble for a minute blinking and squinting into the recesses of her bag, a grin tilting his lips. "What are you looking for?"

"Chapstick," she mumbled, the opening of the purse blurring as contents doubled making them hard to grasp, but her fingers finally brushed the small tube. It clicked and she tossed it back in, dropping the bag to the floor by her feet. "Ninety seconds. Tell me," she ordered.

Jack looked behind him toward the cockpit, the door to the pilot closed, and then over her shoulder toward Dixon seeing him blissfully passed out. Setting the glass down he leaned forward and pulled her smaller hand between his palms, the expression on his face one she'd not seen for a while: hopeful.

"Sydney,-" he swallowed, "I...I got everything."

They'd been transferred to an SD-6 hospital the moment they got to L.A., the pair kept overnight for the concussion along with Dixon's need for x-rays. His cheekbone and orbit weren't broken, just bruised, but they kept him for observation anyway. Their cover story was a car accident, which was honestly believable aside from the finger-shaped bruises on Sydney's neck that they covered up with makeup before anyone could see. It was the second car accident excuse on Sydney's record in two weeks, however, but Francie bought it when she and Will visited along with Dixon's wife until hours ended. The hardest part was staying awake until the doctor's felt that sleeping wasn't a threat, which wasn't until nearly six the next morning. Jack stayed with her the entire time, chatting quietly and keeping her distracted. They couldn't talk about what they each desperately wanted to talk about, but reliving less painful memories was a night well-spent.

They sent her home a couple of hours after giving her the clear with two stitches in her eyebrow and a prescription for Vicodin that she was planning on ignoring. Francie left after visiting for a three-day small business conference in Chicago, so it was just her and Will at the apartment. This meant she didn't have to wear makeup to cover the bruises both day and night, for which she was supremely thankful. She'd slept almost all day which meant that as the clock hit two in the morning, she was wide awake.

Her CIA cell rang, Sydney setting her book down atop the cozy comforter and reaching with a grunt to pick it up off the nightstand. "Hello?"

"Can I meet you at the warehouse?" His tone was sharp and worried, and she'd honestly been hoping he wouldn't call after he'd gotten the details of the mostly successful yet disaster if a mission. She knew there wasn't much chance that he'd restrict contact after hearing what had happened, but she was still happy at the sound of his voice, even happier at the prospect of seeing him so soon since the last time. The five or six-day stints of no contact had to have been eating at him as much as it was her, she was sure of it.

To be fair, she was proud of these particular injuries. Her getting trounced by the seemingly twelve-foot tall security guard with ham-hock fists gave Jack plenty of time to get vital information they needed off the secret Alliance server in the storage facility. Still, she'd hoped to at least get rid of the bruises before seeing Vaughn again knowing how much he hated them.

"You sure?"

"Sydney," he growled his response.

"I'm not exactly a pretty sight right now."

"Sydney." Apparently, that was his only response for the evening.

"Twenty minutes?" He agreed and hung up, her muscles protesting as she climbed out of bed. Stiffly walking to the closet she stopped. This wasn't an official meeting, and she doubted that Vaughn would be upset if she showed up in pajama pants and a camisole. Slipping the pants over her hips and tying the string to keep them from falling down, she grabbed a discarded long-sleeved shirt lying on the chair next to her dresser and padded into the dark living room toward the door.

"Hey," Will whispered from the darkness. Though his attempt to keep from scaring her was noble, she still jumped.

"Damnit, Will," she grumbled, slipping her feet into the flip flops. "Why are you lurking in the kitchen?"

He didn't answer, though in the glowing light of the open fridge she spotted him holding a bowl of Francie's famous chocolate pudding in his palm, the plastic wrap dangling off the edge and a spoon in his other hand.

"Meeting?"

"Yeah, just got the call. I couldn't sleep anyway, so it's as good a time as any."

"Uh-huh."

She regarded him with a frown, moving into the kitchen so they could continue with a whisper despite the fact that Francie wasn't home. "Will, it's where we always meet for counter missions, don't worry about it." She accepted when he held out the spoon offering her a bite.

"You're not going for work, Syd, or you wouldn't be going in pajamas. Just...don't make a habit of hooking up in a secret location or people that you don't want to notice are going to start noticing. You don't need to screw everything up just before taking everything down," he chided with a soft line of worry furrowing his brow.

"Eat your pudding. I'll be back," she promised, though cursed mentally that he knew her so well.

"At least take my car instead of yours. If they drive by, it'll look like you're home where you're supposed to be at three in the morning recovering from a massive concussion." She stopped half-way across the room before looking back with a grin.

"That's a good idea. You'd make a good spy," she said returning to lift his keys off the counter.

"Look, I know I've just traded complaining about your bank job to complaining about your spy job, but if you weren't distracted from going to meet Vaughn you would have thought of it too."

"Will-" he cut her off.

"I love you, Sydney, and I want you to be happy. But you told me what these people will do if they catch you, and I think that meetings like these are too much of a risk. Vaughn should agree and know better, and you both should have realized that already."

"I'll be back in a bit," she grumbled, her anger stemming from the fact that she knew he was right.

"Tell him I say hi," he whispered, her glare almost invisible in the darkness of the foyer, the sound of the door clicking in her wake.