Part 25
"We are never going to get through this information if you keep distracting me," Sydney said quietly from across the room as she looked closely at another piece of paper to read the tiny font. Sitting atop the bed, her right leg folded beneath her left propped on a pillow, there was an open file box beside her and she was attempting to sort through the papers one at a time in hopes that anything would be helpful. She was sure he wore a puzzled look and had a slight uptick to the corner of his mouth as he sat there assuming she hadn't been paying attention to what he'd been doing.
"What?" He tossed her a grin but turned back to the laptop.
He'd shrugged off his jacket, that was all - but that was enough. Beneath said coat was a white button-up shirt cinched to his shoulders by his holster. A few moments before she'd called him out he'd tossed the tie to the desk and followed it all up with a stretch, the muscles under the shirt tightening and then loosening under the leather straps. Focusing her gaze back to the papers, she heard him shift position but kept her eyes on her work, trying to be impervious to his actions.
"How is your research going?" To anyone else, his question would have seemed casual, but the gravelly low tone shot a spark straight to her center.
"Vaughn, come on."
"What? I just asked a question."
She chanced a look in his direction. He was sitting in the computer chair with one leg folded over the other at the ankle and his cheek propped on his palm staring at her with excited green eyes.
"Don't...don't we have to get through this intel before your meeting tomorrow?"
His response was the shrug of a shoulder, and he spotted the familiar purple shine seeping into her eyes. A soft smile hit his lips as he rose and moved to the door. Anyone showing up would get the red flashing light for a little while, not that the door's status had changed much during the last two days he'd had off.
Crossing the room with slow deliberate steps his hands removed the holster and pulled the tucked shirt from his waistband. Reaching the side of the bed she stalled him.
"Do not knock this stuff over," she growled with a gesture to the stacks of paper surrounding her on the comfy bed.
Vaughn delicately moved the stacks to the floor, despite wanting to scatter them with a swing of his arm, before crawling over her on the bed. He pushed her back leaning in for a kiss. Her hands grabbed the front of his shirt in reaction and pulled him with her as her crossed legs instinctively hooked loosely over his hips.
"Was this morning not enough?" She asked against his lips and felt a smile.
"It's never enough."
Her tongue swept against his in response pulling a groan from his throat, and he dimly felt her fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt until her warm palms pressed against his bare chest. Propping himself on his right hand his left traced to her waist and began to lift her camisole, and Sydney sat up slowly making him tilt back and rest on his heels. Her top hit the floor and his hands left her body for a moment to shrug out of the button-up before coming back and running tickling lines down the middle of her spine keeping her upright against his chest.
She clung to him, one hand diving her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and starting a shiver to race down his spine. Their lips parted as he leaned down, intent on exploring her throat. Her other hand was winding a path with scraping fingernails down his twitching abs toward the bulge straining the zipper of his trousers, but she was taking her sweet time exploring every inch of jumping muscle leading down to his bellybutton.
The moment his lips and tongue touched the side of her neck his phone went off, an alarm set for some damn reason. He growled and tried to continue his exploration while reaching for the buzzing and chiming device on the nightstand, but it was just out of reach from where they were perched. Sydney realized the dilemma and tipped backward pulling him above her. He caught his weight on his right arm and felt her hands at his waistband beginning to work at his belt.
"Only internal calls can come through down here," she whispered and peeked between them as her less than nimble fingers struggled with the belt, "don't answer it if it could be a meeting."
Michael chuckled and noticed that it was a calendar alarm. Sloane - 4:30 was in flashing black letters against the colorless background.
"Oh shit," he palmed the device and killed the alarm, unlocking it to read the details. "My meeting with Sloane isn't tomorrow, it's today. It's in fifteen damn minutes."
He squeezed his eyes closed as her feathery chuckle from below blew cool air across the heated skin of his chest and throat. The phone clattered against the wood as he tossed it back to the nightstand, and he rocked back to sit on his calves and look down at the wonton and topless woman below. "It's okay," she promised with a dimpled smile.
He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her pouted lips before climbing off down and grabbing her camisole from its discarded spot on the floor. Handing it over he saw her upright and passing his shirt at the same time, and they traded a laugh as well as garments as they dressed. Willing his erection to go away he skipped the tie and slipped his arms into his coat, bundled his laptop into his briefcase, and hit the panel to unlock the door.
"Vaughn," she called, the man turning quickly as she stood balancing on her right foot to keep weight off the left as the knee was sore from physical therapy a few hours earlier. In her hands were his wallet, phone, and keys retrieved from their spot forgotten on the nightstand for the last two days.
"I'll be back," he promised, his fingers brushing her palms reclaiming his personals as he leaned in for a quick kiss before disappearing with a jog down the hallway.
...
Vaughn sighed in frustration. "This tech is absolutely untraceable and undetectable."
"According to whom?" Arvin challenged as he folded his hands together over his stomach. The young agent had his arms akimbo as the wrinkles on his forehead deepened with every second that the SD-6 director challenged his authority.
"Marshall Flinkman."
"Well, his craftsmanship notwithstanding, I don't think it's worth the risk. I'll give you notes on the meeting when I return."
"Yeah, and you'll keep the valuable information locked inside your head. If you're not willing to give us everything why are we still doing this? It's been months when it should have been weeks. Do you still want to bring the Alliance down or are you just screwing with me?"
"Mister Vaughn, I am in far too deep to back out now. This is a meeting of the partners about a suspected mole within the hierarchy of the Alliance. The last thing I will consider is wearing a listening device in that room. I'll see you when I get back if you have nothing further?"
The man lifted his briefcase and turned to leave, Vaughn's tight voice stopping him in his tracks. "You got Sydney killed because of your loyalty to these people. You're wasting valuable time that I could be spending on so many other things."
Arvin turned quickly with a snarl on his lip, "you of all people shouldn't be so cavalier with risk, Agent Vaughn."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Sloane nodded and decided internally that this conversation, likely long overdue, was happening. "You asked me months ago what tipped us off. What operation did she screw up? Did she give too much away? In which conversation did something slip out? The answer to each of these in order is nothing, no, and none. There wasn't any single conversation she had with me or anyone at SD-6 that gave up her status as a double agent. There wasn't any mission with enough red flags to not be considered within the margin of error for her job. She didn't give anything away; it was you."
Vaughn froze as his bravado instantly deflated. "What?" As he fell back, Sloane took the opportunity to gain ground.
"Sydney was an exemplary agent, and we always knew she was going to do well in this industry. The fact that she will be remembered as a victim killed by terrorists on live television hurts my soul." Sloane couldn't hold back the emotion from his low, growling voice. "I'm not disavowing my responsibility, Agent Vaughn. I...didn't do enough to protect her. Those failings are on me and me alone. Having said that, I wouldn't have had the need to go to such extravagant depths and fail in my attempts if you...hadn't...screwed up."
Arvin reached into his briefcase to extract and toss a file with maybe a dozen pieces of paper inside to the table, a disc following and landing on top. "Here's what you wanted so desperately to know months ago. I don't like you, Mister Vaughn, and it's not because you're arrogant, or that you think you know best and don't take criticism well, it's because you got her caught. I may have gotten her killed...but you were the catalyst."
Sloane was taken aback at the heartbreak and fresh sheen of tears in the usually fiery green eyes. For a moment, the director regretted how he was presenting the agent with the information as he'd all but forgotten that his new handler had been in a romantic relationship with the subject of their discussion. Placing himself in the shoes of a man being told that he was responsible for the murder of the person they loved, his wife Emily's face filling his mind, he felt the spear in his heart.
"Could you...tell me?" The young man's voice was a strangled whisper.
Sloane had felt a lot of things for Michael Vaughn these past few months. Anger at the young man for the rash decision that had led them all to this very moment; jealousy for the fact that he had access to Jack Bristow, one of Arvin's oldest friends; a sliver of happiness at the fact that Sydney had found someone that so fiercely cared about her despite the short time they had been together. For the first time in their many meetings, however, Arvin finally felt sorry for the young man.
When he spoke, his voice was softer. "It's all there. Know that I sat on the information for months until someone from Security Section discovered it through a random search request and brought it to my attention. At that point, it was reported to the Alliance and I had to feign shock as they ran me through every gauntlet they could." Sloane reached out and pat the torn young man on the arm before turning and leaving.
Vaughn stood staring into a dark corner for long minutes after Sloane left as turmoil roiled in his stomach. He'd had many a nightmare over the responsibility he may bear, but had all but quashed those dark thoughts under the assumption that Sloane would never actually tell him what mission or moment led to Sydney's fall.
With stiff motions, his heart begging him to stop, he moved to the table and fell heavily into the metal chair. Another few minutes passed until he opened his briefcase and pulled out the laptop, his movement mechanical as he powered it up and lifted the disc into his hand. Staring at it for a moment before putting it into the tray, a bout of nausea hit him as the disc spun up with a whir and a folder popped open containing several video files labeled numerically. The date and times were included in the file name, though he couldn't place any of them against his memory.
'Sydney could,' his brain prodded, and in response, he double-clicked the first video.
Black and white security footage from the sublevel sections of SD-6 showed an empty concrete room with a cracked open door to the right middle of the screen.
The date and time were at the top left corner, and while he still lacked revelation over the significance, he remembered that room. Once he realized that, the date didn't matter.
Sydney entered the frame from the left with quick but quiet steps toward the door that slowly opened on her from the outer hallway, and she dodged to the side waiting for an assailant to enter and catch them off guard. Vaughn moved in accordance with his training: weapon held out at attention and ready for anything.
He could still feel the strong grip as she caught both of his arms from her superior angle and flipped him over her hip with the torque. Both relying on muscle memory, they ended up facing one another with guns pointed at the head of their partner.
He remembered being so relieved to see her; so relieved that she was alive.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Her voice exclaimed and from the angle of the camera, he could see the shock and surprise written on every inch of her face. He also noticed that the tenseness in her shoulders dropped and she immediately let down her guard with a sudden exhale. Every motion exuded trust as she lowered the weapon immediately and turned to check the corners of the room and outer hallway from where he'd entered.
"Dixon contacted us. What the hell's going on?"
"Dixon contacted you?"
"Not directly; through Langley. Said SD-6 was under attack. Are you okay?"
"It's true. There's a team of six, maybe seven-" the video ended abruptly.
Vaughn's fingers trembled and he sniffled against a suddenly runny nose as tears coursed hot trails down his cheeks. He closed the file and opened the next in the series where a different camera picked them up in the hallway outside the room. They were in the middle of the screen and farther away from this one, but their voices could be heard well enough over his crappy laptop speakers.
"They've got the latest military spec; they're after something in the vault."
She took the lead as he covered her corners. He realized how perfectly they worked in tandem despite the chaos of him showing up where he shouldn't and never having been in the field with each other. She should have yelled at him or tied him up; she should have done anything to maintain her cover, but it was easy to see that she, like him, assumed that the sublevels weren't being monitored. Or at least that the security feed had been cut by the infiltrating team. His voice got louder in the video as they moved toward the camera.
"I know. I took one out in the garage."
"Russian accent?"
He panted as they hurried and talked heading toward another turn that, to Vaughn, looked the same as all the others. "Yeah. I was thinking K-Directorate."
"I don't think so. I don't think they'd do something as wild as this."
"Then who?"
She stopped, the pair standing underneath and in plain view of the camera above their head to the left.
"I don't know. But right now...what do you know about deactivating C-4?"
Michael slammed the lid of the laptop closed and let his head fall into his hands, the tears leaking from the corners of his tightly squeezed eyes as emotion clogged and burned the back of his throat. Harsh sobs pulled from his chest as his memory flashed every injury she took on Flynn's stream through his heart, each piercing and reopening wounds he thought he'd closed.
'How can I go back?'
…
Judy Barnett lifted her head at the quiet knock, surprise hitting her face as she saw a concerned Michael Vaughn.
"Vaughn, hello. What can I help you with? I was just about to leave for the day." She waved him in and spotted tears on his cheeks as he quickly and quietly closed the door behind him. "What's happened?"
"I was me." His voice was strangled. Barnett stood and moved from behind her desk as the distraught young agent fidgeted with body tense and weight shifting from foot to foot in the middle of her office.
"What was you?" Gesturing to the seat she saw him shake his head and hold out his hand, a disc in a clear case pinched tightly between his two fingers.
"This will," sniffle, "go on my record, but I don't care. Please don't let Weiss get in trouble for this, he...he was just...I asked him to cover for me." He attempted an explanation when she took the disc with confusion in her curious blue eyes.
"First, take a deep breath." She didn't move and waited for him to follow directions. The shaky inhale and watery exhale didn't seem to make anything better, so she had him do it again. "Second, bring me up to speed. I can keep what you tell me off the record, you know that. Tell me what's happened."
Wiping angrily at his face, he collected himself. "Do you recall the Cole incident at SD-6?"
Her head shook when it didn't ring any bells.
"McKenas Cole was a freelance agent for SD-6, someone that thought they were working for the CIA. He was betrayed and began working for Derevko. He...infiltrated SD-6 with a team of five or six others looking for something Rambaldi-related in the vault."
"Was that when you put a team together with Agent Weiss in the parking garage of the Credit Dauphine building?" She listened with her eyes on the monitor and not the young man as she sat back at her desk to put the disc in the drive.
"That's what we put in the report."
That caught her attention, and her blue eyes flickered up to his suddenly downward stare. "Was that false?"
"Yes and no," Michael winced and started pacing around the small space between the plush chairs. "I...I couldn't get clearance from Devlin to have a team go into SD-6 and see if Dixon's general message to Langley was valid, so I went myself."
Her eyebrows jutted above the frames of her glasses, Judy removing the optics and fixing an incredulous stare on the restless agent. Since no comment was forthcoming, she refocused her attention on the disc's file and clicked on the first video.
Vaughn could hear the sound over the desk speakers, though they were low, and he pinpointed the scuffle and heard their panting breaths as Sydney's voice cut through the quiet of the office: "what the hell are you doing here?"
"You went into SD-6?"
Michael nodded as his arms dropped to his sides and a fresh batch of tears coursed down his cheeks. The remainder of the video was stopped and forgotten as Barnett stood and stepped around the desk.
"I...it was me. I got her caught," he sobbed. "How...how can I go back to..." he stopped knowing he couldn't say more.
For once she didn't have any words. The only thing she could think to do until her brain cooperated was to pull him into a loose hug. His arms hung limply at his sides but his forehead hit her shoulder and he felt one of her hands cup the back of his head as the other ran soothing circles across his shoulder blades.
"Michael, you cannot take all of the blame. It's not fair. Who gave you that information?"
Through his sobs and sniffles, she heard, "Sloane."
Barnett couldn't resist the scoff that rose from her throat and pushed him back a bit to hold his face by his wet cheeks and force him to look into her gentle eyes. "He turned that video in to them. He bears responsibility."
Vaughn minutely shook his head. "No, he...he said he," sniffle "held it back until," exhale "someone else discovered it."
"Until? That just means he sat on it until it was convenient for him. Vaughn, you are not solely responsible for this. Her cover being blown was only a matter of time. Sit down," she ordered and pushed his wobbly frame toward the second chair. Once he was seated she set the box of tissues in front of him on the coffee table before taking up her chair on the opposite side.
"We figured out who the mole was." His shock surprised her, and she realized Kendall hadn't told him. "It was Haladki. He worked for Sydney's mother, who I don't need to remind you was the person trying to expose Jack and Sydney in the first place using Will. This whole operation was closer to going belly-up than any of us realized."
Barnett wasn't prepared for the look of rage that flashed across the sad green eyes, and she interrupted him before he could go on a tirade. "Haladki disappeared some time back, we don't know how or where, but it's likely he knew his status as a double was blown. This was all after sharing the information on Sydney's double-agent status with who knows how many people. Sark knew and was working with the Alliance. It's possible that he was the one that tipped them off to the footage in the first place."
Another flash of anger.
"I'm not telling you this to make you angry, I'm telling you this because a lot of mistakes have been made by more people than just you. The rest are failings on the Agency's end to keep one of their assets safe. Your mistake was borne from care while ours was borne from neglect. We bear the responsibility of everything that happened to Sydney, not you."
The words hung in the air, but he did feel better. While he couldn't tell her why his soul wasn't completely mended, he nodded and wiped at his nose and eyes with a tissue.
"Thanks, Dr. Barnett."
She sent him a soft smile, though sensed it wasn't completely over. "Take a few days off, Vaughn, I'll make the request to Kendall official. Come back and see me next Tuesday and we can talk about this some more if you'd like." She moved to the computer to eject the disc. The plastic case snapped as she popped it back in and brought it to his side, holding it out for him to take.
Vaughn's motions were slow and heavy, the weight of everything on those videos still pushing on his shoulders.
"Go home and get some sleep. Do you want me to prescribe something that will help?"
He shook his head as one hand slid the disc into the pocket of his jacket. "Thanks," he muttered before turning and leaving, the blonde woman leaning against the edge of her desk staring at the open door for a few minutes lost in thought.
The psychiatrist wasn't sure if the agent had believed everything she'd said, and now that she was alone with her thoughts, she didn't believe everything either. That footage was damning, and even if the Alliance had a whiff of suspected double behavior within SD-6, there wasn't anything concrete they could have jumped on that the CIA knew. But this...that disc was concrete.
His face was clear enough for an I.D., and there was no way that Arvin Sloane didn't know everything about Michael Vaughn the second that security footage was watched and scanned. She'd copied the videos to her computer and double-clicked the first, her eyes focusing on things she was trained to see.
Oddly enough, she spotted all of the clues of familiarity that Michael had. Sydney's surprise wasn't borne from confrontation, it was borne from the fact that this man was someone she knew that wasn't supposed to be there. The look on her face screamed "wrong person, wrong place". The moment she saw it was Vaughn, and vice versa, the two lowered their weapons, and the tenseness in their frames dissipated immediately.
While Michael had been focused on Sydney's body language, Barnett focused on them both. Agent Bristow dropped her guard instantly. Her hands lowered the weapon, her shoulders relaxed, even the worry lines on her forehead disappeared. While the initial outburst was filled with shock, the rest of her words were calmer and softer, each syllable giving away familiarity and trust. Even if she had known there was a camera and needed to play it off, she would have failed.
Vaughn's body language said the same, though she recognized that the tenseness in his jaw and the wrinkles on his forehead stayed in place. While Sydney was relieved that Vaughn wasn't one of the five or six armed men infiltrating her office building, Michael was relieved that she was okay. That relief was short-lived and was replaced with worry about what waited around the next corner.
Every one of his actions over the next fifteen seconds screamed "bodyguard". He didn't relax his stance, though he did lower the gun. However, it stayed firmly between both of his hands ready to swing into action if they came across anyone else. He constantly looked forward and behind as Sydney looked dead ahead and took the lead.
Barnett rewound the first video to when Sydney had entered the room before running into the other agent. She checked her angles, walked deliberately and quietly, and even looked back to make sure she wasn't being followed. The moment Vaughn joined her crusade, and by the time they hit the hallway, she knew she could focus on the mission knowing that he had her back. Without any of that being discussed, they fell into step with one another taking up roles that she'd only seen in seasoned partners.
Judy sighed and shut down the computer, her face a mask of thought as she went over everything in her head. There was no doubt that Arvin Sloane was the man responsible for turning in this footage and putting Sydney Bristow in the crosshairs of the Alliance, but if Vaughn hadn't broken protocol, something those two had excelled at, there wouldn't have been footage in the first place. Not that she'd tell him that. The SD-6 director was a perfect scapegoat and there wasn't any chance of her using his name differently.
She just hoped that Michael Vaughn would fall for it the next time he sat across from her chair.
...
The panel to the right of the door beeped and pulled her attention, Sydney looking over at the alarm clock and seeing that it was just after ten in the evening. She'd been leaning back against the headboard with her left leg propped up on a stack of pillows in pajamas with a book in her palms waiting for him to return.
She removed her reading glasses and tossed the book aside, her fingers sweeping a tendril of hair behind her ear from the messy bun from which it had escaped as she sat up. Whatever Vaughn had been doing it had taken well over five hours. As he tentatively stepped into the room she knew something was amiss. Tentative wasn't their speed these last few two weeks.
His shoulders were slumped, his brow was furled, and his green eyes avoided her concerned look and fading smile.
"What's wrong?"
He didn't reply, merely closed the door behind him to stand just inside fidgeting with his hands in his pockets. He suddenly felt hot and shrugged out of his coat. Trying to buy time, he hung it on the back of the office chair though he still hadn't met her eyes prompting her to ask the question again.
"Don't close me out, Vaughn, tell me what's wrong."
Sydney's frown grew as he sighed, finally looking up to reveal a sheen of tears in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"For what?"
Another shuddering breath. "I got you compromised. Everything that happened to you, Syd - all of it - it was my fault."
Sydney scoffed much as Barnett had, but he interrupted before she could speak. "There were...cameras in the sub levels. Sloane gave me the video from when I went into SD-6 unauthorized."
"Vaughn, I compromised myself," she sighed, but he shook his head. "Come here." Pointing to the side of the bed she ordered him to sit, swinging her legs off the edge and waiting for him to join her.
The steps were slow and wary, but he obeyed all the same and sat with another heavy sigh. Sydney stood and limped over to the dresser across the room, slid open the lowest drawer, and reached in to grab a thin folder. Limping back, her mobility without the brace better than it had been a week ago when she'd graduated past the need to wear it constantly, she flopped back down and handed it over.
Vaughn hesitated. 'What if she already knew? How could she have spent the last two weeks as if nothing was wrong? Did she know she'd been sleeping with the guy that almost got her killed? Did get her killed.' Her voice pulled him from his thought spiral.
"Do you remember when I had to meet that SD-6 agent for the brain wave test?" He nodded and took the file but kept it closed in his hands. She put a soft smile on her face and leaned in to bump his shoulder with hers, "I failed that test."
His eyes jumped up, "you told me you passed!"
Sydney chuckled. "Technically I did; I had a perfect score. That...proved to Dreyer I was the mole because it was flawless. Not a single question he asked went above 30, even personal ones that were supposed to make me react emotionally for a baseline."
Michael looked back at the file and saw the corner of two pieces of paper sticking out from the top, but he kept it closed. Dreyer's test was before Cole infiltrated with his team. If she was right, the Alliance had known the truth for at least three to four months before acting on their knowledge.
He slowly lifted the top and looked down at a typed report transcribed from what seemed to be a phone conversation. This information came from one of her first tasks once she was released and after she'd been cleared by both medical and psychiatric doctors to begin working on things. She'd been given a laptop and dozens of recorded phone calls retrieved from Luxembourg that hadn't yet been cataloged and told to write down any pertinent details.
This read as a dry, factual, and straightforward conversation between Alliance Agent Karl Dreyer and Alliance Partner Alain Christophe.
Dreyer: I don't trust that Sloane has the best interest of the Alliance in mind, Alain.
Alain: What makes you say that?
Dreyer: Sydney Bristow is an obvious mole and yet he does nothing about the evidence I've presented. He cares for that woman too much to see the facts.
Alain: Do you have any evidence past a perfect test, Karl? I myself would be unlikely to remove one of our top agents simply because they performed well on a lie detector.
Dreyer: Her answers were practiced which is why they were perfect. This isn't something that someone can...naturally perfect. She never once tapped the emotional part of her brain, even on questions that would have done so. Someone trained her on that machine. She is the mole. Have I ever been wrong?
Alain: I'll give you access to her file out of Sloane's periphery. Do what research you must but do not waste our time. If this comes back as false, your job with us may become...tenuous.
The signature at the bottom read: "Transcribed by (ironically) SAB", and he grinned. 'A hell of a thing for the analysts to overlook, and a hell of a thing for her to find,' he thought. The next page was a copy of a report typed by Karl Dreyer to the attention of Alain Christophe. It was much more damning than the phone call.
Alain,
I've done what you asked and will cut to the chase by saying that I was correct: Sydney Bristow is a double agent. I've been compiling data from the last few months and did a direct comparison with her previous work. In so doing I have established a timeline. Do let me know if you need to see the evidence in person, I'm happy to arrange a meeting with you or any other partners. All I ask is that Arvin Sloane not be made aware quite yet that he created a safe-haven for this mole to work freely for months.
Timeline:
From Agent Bristow's start in 1994 through to October of 2001, her failure rate was one of the best of any Alliance cell. In 247 missions it sat at 4.5%.
In November of 2001, Agent Bristow's fiance discovered her occupation, and the threat was removed by Security Section. I have reason to believe, and evidence supporting these accusations, that in early October of 2001 Sydney Bristow became a double agent. Somewhere around October second or third.
The following 18 months of missions saw her failure rate skyrocket to 62%.
The results are quite obvious and the fact that Arvin Sloane rejected this information makes me bring this to you. I trust you to do the right thing and have Sydney Bristow removed as quickly as possible.
The name was signed underneath in a barely legible scrawl, and Vaughn quickly flipped to the next page hoping that he would find exactly what he found: a reply from Alain Christophe.
Mr. Dreyer,
It seems you are indeed good at what you do. My sincerest apologies for doubting your work. I believe we have been given an opportunity and can use this to our advantage. If the agent holds something back that the Alliance is desperate to obtain, we will fix the problem. For now, I will coordinate with others on monitoring Agent Bristow and gathering intelligence about the organization with which she is currently aligned.
Thank you for bringing this to my attention.
It wasn't him. It hadn't been his fault. Sure, if they had ignored any of Dreyer's information as Sloane had he was the only one to blame, but this was the balm his soul needed at the moment. His eyes glanced over the first letter again as a smile crooked the side of his mouth.
"Only you could get caught by being too perfect."
She blushed, "and only you could think you'd doomed me by coming to my rescue."
Vaughn tossed the folder to the floor and brought his free hand up to cup her cheek, pulling her in for a soft kiss. His tongue flicked against her pouted lower lip as he pressed his forehead against hers. "I think we deserve each other," he whispered. Her nose bumped his as she nodded a reply.
"Help me up," she asked quietly seeing the curious frown hit his face. He stood and followed her lead, however.
"I don't know about you, but I could use a shower."
Her suggestion perked him up and it was his turn to nod in answer. The pair moved toward the bathroom, Vaughn's hands at her hips letting her set the pace on her sore leg. Once the water was on and steaming against the floor of the glass cube, the tendrils climbing up and leaking over the top, Sydney's hands set out again to undo the buttons of his shirt as his fingers tickled the skin of her lower back in swirling patterns beneath her cami.
She wore a soft smile as the button-up slipped from his shoulders, and she tossed toward the hamper in the corner. He lifted her top and threw it in the same direction, neither looking nor interested if the clothing made it into the receptacle. Tipping her chin up with the side of his pointer finger he lowered his mouth to hers in a soft slow kiss, his tongue dancing against hers as his hands slid down to her waist to play with the elastic band of the comfortable cotton pants.
Sydney's fingers were at his belt, the jingle of the metal echoing in the tiled bathroom despite the running shower dulling all sound. The tightness in his trousers lessened as the belt loosened, and as their lips parted she gently nipped at his lower as her hand felt the straining bulge behind the zipper.
Vaughn leaned his head down to place a suctioning kiss against her shoulder as he felt each tooth of the zipper release as she slowly slid it down, the button following. Wiggling his hips, the pants hit the floor. Sliding his hooked fingers around the edge of the waistband, he found the tied string cinching them below her navel. His mouth moved closer to the crook of her neck sprinkling kisses and nips against her shoulder as he dipped a finger inside her bellybutton.
An airy laugh left her lips and she tilted her head to press her cheek against his temple, Vaughn lifting his legs and stepping out of the pooled fabric just after her pajamas hit the floor. Smooth skin greeted his hands as he wrapped them around her hips, a groan bubbling from his chest.
"No underwear, huh?"
Sydney shrugged, "less to take off for when you got back."
His laugh vibrated against her chest as he held her close to keep her from losing balance, one foot kicking the pants to the side. She turned to open the shower door and he finished undressing. Steam enveloped her, Sydney stepping into the water with a contented sigh. She reached out a hand and beckoned him into the enclosed square, his fingers tightening around hers as he closed the door behind them with a clank.
She kept her head from going under completely as she hadn't yet undone the bun and made room for him beneath the wide showerhead. She had no regrets from asking for the shower to be upgraded, the construction approved by Kendall as Vaughn, her father, Will, and Weiss had donned tool belts and redid not only the shower but the whole bathroom.
The ledge they'd built into one of the two tiled wall sides was perfect for sitting and allowed her some freedom while she was healing to shower on her own and not risk a slip or fall. A second showerhead was attached to a toggle, the long hose allowing for her to sit and still wash her hair.
Vaughn had used it on her shortly after installation during one of their previous showers, and Sydney was insanely happy that it had been added during construction - also Michael's idea.
She could still see the tenseness in his shoulders, the wrinkles on his forehead never completely going away, so she pulled him under the stream and told him to wet his hair. Obeying with a smile, he kept one hand at the slope of her backside just behind her hip and tilted his head back to let the hot water soak his hair. A tug on his arm told him to move, Sydney pushing him to sit on the chilled ledge. A shiver ran down his spine from the temperature difference sitting on the tile, though it felt good against his skin, and her quiet voice ordered him to close his eyes, a command he followed.
The opening snap of a bottle lid made him smile and she squeezed some into her palm before rubbing her hands together and stepping in between his legs. A masculine scent filled their nostrils and he recognized his shampoo. The muffled thud of the bottle being set down hit his ear, and the feeling of her fingers rubbing against his scalp was all heightened since his eyes were closed.
He let himself be lulled by her ministrations as his fingers swirled patterns against her thighs, and he kept his eyes closed when she stepped away and switched on the secondary showerhead. Tilting his head back at her instruction, the warm water washed away the suds and she leaned against him to make sure it was all gone, Michael humming at the feeling of her wet skin against his.
Finishing, she turned it off and hung it out of the way, turning back to set her hands against his shoulders. His arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her close to bury his nose between her breasts and pepper small kisses against the soft left peak. He trailed the inner side until he got to the perky bud of her nipple, his tongue swirling slowly before drawing it into his mouth.
A mewl left her lips and she felt his right hand slide north to skim her ribcage. It stopped for a moment at the slightly puckered scar between the lowest two ribs, his finger brushing it reverently before moving inward to cup her breast and rub his thumb across the neglected bud opposite the one in his mouth. Her fingertips kneaded the tense muscles between his shoulder and neck as he released the nipple and opened his eyes, his head lolling back to rest against the tile as he fixed her with dark green eyes.
She sent him a sweet smile and leaned to down kiss him with pouted lips before pressing her forehead against his and letting the moment hang in the steam. With a contented sigh, he set his hands to her hips and pushed her carefully back before he stood and wrapped his arms around behind her. Tilting his head down his mouth slanted across hers as their tongues dueled, and Sydney could feel him jutting up against the flat of her stomach.
She reached up to tilt the showerhead down, the angle hitting their stomachs and hips, and as the hand came back she dragged her fingernails across his chest, down his stomach, and wrapped the fingers around his hardness. He groaned into her mouth, their lips breaking with a smack, and she smiled at his reaction while sweeping her thumb across the sensitive head on each slow upstroke.
Vaughn's mouth redirected to the angle of her jaw before lightly suctioning the column of her throat as his own hand joined the party from it's squeezing spot at her hip. It brushed across her lower stomach toward the juncture of her thighs. Her teeth bit into his shoulder as his hand cupped her gently, his thumb lightly rubbing her swollen nubbin as another finger teased at her wet opening. They teased each other for a few moments, each taking pleasure from the knowledgeable hands of their partner.
Sydney's free hand moved up and grasped the back of his neck to pull him down and meet her lips, their tongues moving together and matching their hands. With a small squeeze, she released him and set her palm against his chest as they broke for air, Michael moving his mouth back to her shoulder as his hand returned to her hip.
His heart was a fast steady beat, Sydney feeling him turn her slowly, his mouth lifting to the opposite side and then behind to the top of her shoulder blade as he pulled her back flush against his chest.
"You should prop your leg up to keep the pressure off your knee," he said softly, one hand circling around and flattening over her stomach just under her breasts to hold her against him as the other gently gripped the right side of her waist. She nodded and set the foot on the ledge knowing he wouldn't let her slip.
The hand at her side moved to his shaft and he pressed several small kisses to the back of her shoulder as he directed the tip toward her velvet opening. Their shared moans filled the enclosed space as he slowly slid into her warmth, stilling once his stomach rested against her backside. His left hand was firmly against her stomach with his thumb between her breasts as he kept her upright. Pulling back and slowly thrusting with his hips, her fingers clutching his, Vaughn kept the pace slow. The water was beginning to cool, however, and he knew he shouldn't let her freeze no matter how good it felt.
Freezing was the last thing on her mind, the cooling water a balm to her overheated skin. At this angle, and with his pace, she knew she was close to her first orgasm. He knew it too, so he continued moving gently and fully in and out, the tightening of her channel and the higher pitch to her sounds made him smile and tuck his nose against the back of her neck, loose wet tendrils of hair fallen from the updo against his lips as he kissed her shoulder. The hand at her hip skimmed down and forward to swirl a circle around her sensitive clit.
She clutched his arm around her middle and tumbled off the cliff, her sweet moan hitting his ear as her head fell back to his shoulder as her body tightened. That hand wound her fingers through his over holding her up as the other pressed fingertips against the wall before them, his joining as the tile cooled his palm and tilted their bodies forward.
She wanted to see how many times he could make her tumble off the cliff again and again but knew they'd run out of hot water long before she would be content. Besides, his gravelly groan and the tenseness in his arm gave away the fact that he was close. With her tilting slightly forward it allowed him a better angle to thrust as she held most of her weight against her hand at the wall. He took the hint.
Long, faster thrusts made high and low-pitched moans echo around the cube walls, the lukewarm water sluicing in rivulets down her back and his stomach adding to the sensations. The temperature was a godsend as he panted and looked down for a moment to watch himself slide in and out a few times. Feeling the tingle in his lower stomach he rearranged his footing and moved the hand against the wall back to her hip so he could gently pull her back to meet his hips, bringing them upright.
Sydney lowered her left leg from the ledge with just the toes touching the floor so that her right still bore the weight. Letting go of the wall she sent one hand back behind his head to clutch his neck as the other clung to the arm still holding tight against her abdomen. She tipped her head back to his shoulder as the familiar burning fire in her center began to swirl upward.
She came just before he did, her spasming channel pushing him over the edge as he kissed and bit the back of her shoulder, her fingernails digging into his forearm. Thrusting until he was spent he kept her in his arms and off of her leg. Panting together as the water left lukewarm and descended to cool bordering on cold, both found it refreshing. He slipped from her warmth backing up a step as his eyes spotted the red love bite he'd left just above her shoulder blade.
Rubbing it with his thumb, "I bit your shoulder," he said in a chuckling baritone echo, his thumb running across and feeling the little indents of his teeth, though he knew the impressions would quickly fade.
"I'm fairly sure I drew blood with at least one fingernail," she responded with a sultry laugh, one hand reaching over and cranking the temperature to maximum. It was enough for them to finish up with a rinse before shutting it off and opening the door.
Vaughn sat her on the stool in front of the mirror and toweled her off, the soft terry cloth he'd wrapped around his waist tickling his calves. His lips followed the towel and she sat with eyes closed wearing a soft smile and basking in the attention as well as the afterglow. Once she was dry he lifted her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom.
"Pajamas?"
Sydney shook her head and watched from her tucked in spot with a contented gaze as Vaughn discarded the towel and climbed in next to her. Facing one another on their sides they shared a long content stare. His hand cupped her cheek for a moment, thumb stroking her cheekbone as his other fingers tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and a smile broke out on his lips.
"What?" Her voice was a tired whisper, but nights like these made everything she'd been through worth it so she'd decided a while ago to try and stay in these moments as long as possible.
"I wanna marry you," he said quietly.
"What? When?"
Vaughn shrugged. "Who cares; tomorrow?"
Butterflies danced in her stomach, but her smile dropped as her brain reminded her of their situation. "I don't think we can."
He frowned. "Who says?"
"I don't exist, Vaughn. I mean...I don't think you can marry someone with a death certificate."
Michael scoffed. "With the power some people have here, it wouldn't be hard to get something written up. Everyone that matters is here and could be with us anyway, Syd. Why not?"
"You're serious," she squeaked, surprise elevating the pitch. "What about your mom?"
"So we get married again when it's over. Why are you fighting me on this? Do...do you not want to?"
Sydney sighed and rolled to her back, her stare looking up at the ceiling as she sorted her thoughts. The lamp in the corner gave some ambient light, and she focused on it while choosing her words carefully and turning back to her side.
Her pointer finger lovingly swept across the dimple on his chin as she spoke. "I don't want you to have to live in a bunker. We have no idea how long this is going to take."
Michael caught her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers. "I think you underestimate how badly I want to call you my wife."
"Michael," she exhaled a laugh and shook her head, though a smile was peeking behind her frown.
He grinned, "you only call me Michael if you're about to give in to something I want."
She shook her head slightly and met his eyes, "or during good sex."
"Or during good sex," he laughed and tucked her hand he was holding under his head, cradling it between his palm and cheek before pressing a kiss to her wrist. "Will you marry me?"
'Why are you listening to Bristow Brain right now? Stop thinking that everything will go wrong. Life isn't perfect right now, but stop being an idiot and take the good when it's offered.'
She responded with a sweet sigh and a dimpled smile, "yeah," she whispered.
"Yeah?" His beaming smile pulled an airy laugh from her chest.
"Yeah," she said again, their lips meeting in the middle. His tongue swept against hers and a soft moan bubbled up from her chest, Michael pulling away and pushing her to her back perching above her.
Mindful of her left leg she looped it over his hip as he caught her pouted lips once more. "Good call on no pajamas," he mumbled against her mouth, Sydney chuckling between kisses as her hands dove into his still-wet hair.
'Take the good when it's offered.'
...
A/N: I apologize for the length of time since the last update! Working 55-60 hour weeks hasn't afforded me much time or brainpower to write faster. But do know I'm still working on the last few parts! There is a plan, and I'm slowly marching toward the light! Another huge thank you to Rebecca and Laura for their reviews every chapter. I heart you two for your kind words! A big thank you to everyone that's still reading this fandom, it's hard to escape, and for picking my fic to read!
