Chapter Three

Sydney

He has made no move to comfort me. I suppose he thinks he can't. He is even more off-limits now than he was when SD-6 was around. I swear I can feel my heart breaking to be this close to him and not be able to touch him.

I blink, swallow, and slow my gasping breaths. But I can not look up at him. The last memory I have of him keeps playing behind my eyes. I remember kissing him good-bye in the car and promising to be ready for our weekend in Santa Barbara. His eyes had shown with love for me, only me.

How could he move past all we had so fast? I don't want to think about it right now. If I do, I will only start crying harder and that, of course, will remind me of how he used to comfort me. With his hugs and whispers. With his assurances and promises.

It's hard and leaves me a little winded, but I get enough composure to ask about the others things that are important and relevant. I open my mouth to ask for details on Will, but the door to my room opens at the same time.

The man that led me here comes in and behind him are three armed guards. He walks over and talks to Vaughn.

"She needs to leave now."

"I see." Vaughn glances at me sideways. "Has Director Kendall arranged for transportation?" he asks.

The short man nods, "Yes. These are the guards he sent. They will take you to the airstrip." With that he leaves the room.

One guard remains by the door and the other two approach me. One pulls out handcuffs and puts them on my wrists. I am too stunned and too tired to react. The other has put a similar pair on my ankles, only the chain is longer so I can walk fairly easily.

"Look here, is that really necessary?" Vaughn objects, standing up.

"Sorry, sir, just following orders," says the guard by the door. He opens it, ready to lead me away.

I guess Kendall hasn't changed much. The two flank me and pull me up from the bed by my elbows. They all lead me out the door and through the halls where people look at me with blank faces. In a place like this, they know not to ask questions.

Finally exiting the building, they lead me to a white van. I almost laugh when I'm surprised, was I expecting the modes of prisoner transport to have changed as well?

A fourth guard is already sitting behind the wheel and Vaughn pushes past my little group from behind and hops in the passenger side. I can see him pull out his cell and start dialing.

The two pull me into the back of the van and chain me to the bench. The third climbs in as well and slams the metal doors as the driver takes off.

Vaughn

He slams the heel of his hand against the dashboard in frustration and a lot of distress.

"With all due respect, sir, I do not think we should be treating Agent Bristow like a prisoner!"

Kendall is on the other end of the connection, and so he tries to keep the passion out of his voice but knows that won't happen. He's never been able to tone it down when talking about Sydney.

"Agent Vaughn. I know you had feelings for Miss Bristow, but you must not let that get in the way of your judgment. Do we have any idea where she has been all this time? Under the circumstances of her disappearance, I think it is very appropriate that we take precautions upon her return to us."

He hates condescension tone in Kendall's voice.

"I still say that it's futile to treat her as if she is guilty of crimes when we haven't the slightest idea there are any! Will this inspire her confidence in us? She has obviously been through a lot." Vaughn grimaces as he waits for Kendall's response.

He rubs his forehead and then stops, staring at his ring. Alice really was a nice person, but he'd never been in love with her the way he had been with Sydney. Still was with Syd, really. He wouldn't even have looked twice again at Alice, except…he sighs. And now, this turn of events just made everything worse. It is tearing him up inside all over again, even while he rejoices that she is alive. He jabs at his eyes, trying to clear his vision.

Kendall had called him that evening at around sundown and asked him to come into the office, which was odd. Normally, it was Jack who contacted him. Vaughn had known something highly unusual was up so he made it to the Joint Task Force as soon as possible. He knew Alice would be getting home from her conference in a few hours, so he'd wanted this meeting to go a quickly as possible.

But then Kendall had handed him a folder. And the words he spoke next shook Vaughn to his core.

"Agent Sydney Bristow just called us from Hong Kong. I'd like you to go get her and bring her back to LA."

"Syd?" Vaughn had whispered the question, staring at Kendall with wide eyes who stared back with narrowed ones.

"Yes, I suggest you get going, Agent Vaughn."

Vaughn was really grateful and really irked that Kendall would pick him to be the one to make contact with Sydney after 1 year and 10 months. Kendall couldn't honestly think he was over her, could he? Kendall knew what the marriage to Alice was really about. He probably just wanted to send a familiar, trusted face to Sydney, not caring about how it would really affect both parties. Vaughn pulls his attention back to Kendall's voice over the phone.

"...just do your job, Agent!" Kendall barks.

Rather than upset the uptight man anymore, Vaughn concedes, "Yes, sir." He sighs again.

"Good." Then Kendall disconnects.

Sydney

At least these guards aren't being rough. They've helped me out of the stopped van and I recognize the hidden CIA airstrip. I've been through here quite a few times, but this time is for a way different reason. If Kendall's got me locked up before I even get back to LA, it can only mean one thing for when I arrive. They are going to put me through all sorts of tests and therapy and analysis until I loose my mind.

The guards are guiding me before them into the waiting plane. I can hear Vaughn's footsteps on the tarmac behind me. They sound frustrated.

This is one of our general transport planes. One of the nice ones. There are two booths on either side and after we pass those, we enter the spacious cabin.

"Where do you want to sit," a guard asks gruffly.

I clear my throat, "One by a window, please?" Could my voice be any more hoarse?

He points to the nearest one and I sit down. Vaughn has entered by now and he sits down across the aisle. The guard undoes my handcuffs and ankle cuffs and moves them so my right wrist and ankle are now chained to the seat. He takes his place at the back of the cabin, next to the other guard who had passed us as soon as I had sat down.

I glance over to Vaughn, who is staring out his window. The forehead wrinkles are very prominent. The plane rumbles beneath us but his expression doesn't change. Those wrinkles always came out with his concern for me. I wonder, is that still the same? How much has this man changed? Knowing I might not be able to read his face anymore fills me with a sense of loss all over again.

This is going to be one long flight.