CHAPTER ONE
2012
Six months later
Golden grains of sand trailed from the porch to almost all parts of the room on the first floor. Outside, the ocean was calm; the salty breeze, on the other hand, entered the house and blew softly on the curtains.
Michael Vaughn (he decided to go by that name, considering that he'd been using it almost all his life) was in the kitchen, washing the dishes. From where he was standing, he could see his son playing in the play pen while his daughter was in the middle of the living room, reading a book with his wife.
Even though he and Sydney aid the CIA every once in a while, they are living a normal life. Yes, they have a complex security system designed by Marshall and a secret cache of guns in their basement, but they have normal jobs, he and Sydney have friends that don't traipse around the world brandishing guns and fake passports. They had a sense of normalcy in their homes and in their lives.
He was smiling when he joined his wife and children a few minutes later. He lounged beside Isabelle and listened to her as she read "The Princess and the Pea" out loud. Vaughn observed his daughter, fascinated. He couldn't believe that Isabelle had already turned six-years-old. It seemed only like yesterday when he first cradled her in his arms. His little girl was growing up too fast.
'She won't be dating until after ten years, so stop worrying.' He thought as he paid attention to Isabelle. She would frown whenever she concentrated – something she got from Sydney – and it was exhilarating to watch her.
"Daddy, do all princesses feel a pea under hundreds of mattresses?" Isabelle's voice cut short his thoughts. He looked at his daughter and saw a pair of inquisitive hazel eyes peering at him, waiting.
Vaughn looked at Sydney, who broke out in a grin, "Uh, I guess so, sweetie." He answered when he brought his gaze back to the little girl, "But there aren't too many princesses in the world right now."
His daughter's eyes lighted up, "Can I be a princess if I feel a pea under hundreds of mattresses?"
Sydney stroked the six-year-old's hair, "Where will you find hundreds of mattresses, Isabelle?" she asked and looked at Jack, who seemed to be engrossed with the beanie bear in his crib.
Isabelle's brows furrowed and her lips pouted as she thought of an answer. After a few minutes, she shook her head and gave a dramatic sigh, "I don't need hundreds of mattresses. I'm going to be an astronaut when I grow up." She said with such conviction that it made Vaughn smile. The seemingly genetic (and infamous) Bristow stubbornness was already manifesting.
"Mommy, may we read Alice in Wonderland next?" she asked Sydney after a few minutes. His wife obliged, thrilled that her daughter was interested in reading books.
He was content with their life – if he could just live like this forever, he'd do it.
Suddenly, he felt the hair at the back of his neck rising. The distinct feeling that they were being watched alerted his senses. His body tensed before he sat up straight and looked around.
After a few minutes, Vaughn stood up and went outside. He breathed in the salty air as he surveyed his surroundings. He couldn't see anything wrong and everything was in place, but his unease was growing by the minute. He stared at the ocean, knowing that it was where danger lurked.
He stood by steps looking at the beach. The ocean was still; it didn't say anything about the dread he felt.
The wind blew stronger and grew colder. The weather was starting to change gradually, a sign that the seasons were changing. Fall was swiftly approaching.
After a few minutes, Vaughn started to go inside, but before he passed the doorway, he looked behind him and shook his head.
Maybe there really was nothing to worry about.
Somewhere in Asia
Heaps of paper are scattered around by her feet. There were three trash bags a few feet away from her and a long-handled mop leaned at the far end of the wall. There were two rags, a white one, which was dry, on top of the table and a yellow one, which was wet, on the floor. There was also music playing, which made the task of cleaning the room a little bit bearable— just a bit.
She walked around the mess, going back and forth to the trash bags and to the table. She could feel sweat sliding through her nape and onto her back. The room was a little bit hot. She probably had to install an air-conditioning unit.
She looked around. The room, with its green walls, dark brown cabinets and double-sized bed, had to be ready in three days. The installation might probably take a week.
'A heavy duty electric fan should probably do the trick.' She thought as she picked up the wet rag on the floor and started wiping all the dusty surfaces. Though she lived in this country almost all her life, she never got used to the humid climate.
"It's almost eleven in the evening, and instead of resting, this is what you're doing?" a familiar voice asked, "Is this going to be the little girl's room?"
She looked up from her cleaning and saw a tall, blond man leaning by the doorway. Her eyes lit up, "You're here." She said as she walked towards him, "I thought you'd be arriving tomorrow."
He looked at her. Her shirt was worn out and her shorts were… short. There was sweat by her brows and her cheeks were pink. Though she looked tired, he knew that she was happy to see him, "Well, love, I got an early flight out of Mongolia."
"Yeah, this will be little girl's room. How was Mongolia?" she put the yellow rag on the chair and wiped her hands on her shirt.
"Uneventful. No one died and we got him out." He replied as she turned off the music player, "He'll be arriving here tomorrow. As with Katya."
Amusement appeared on her face, "It seems to be that we have to be in our best behavior tomorrow." She remarked playfully and gave him a quick peck on the lips.
"If you're hungry, there's food in the ref." she flicked off the lights and looked at him, "I need a shower."
She turned around but he caught her wrist and gently pulled her towards him. He dipped his head and kissed her deeply.
"Did you miss me, Katarina?" he whispered when he pulled his lips away from her.
"Of course I missed you." She softly answered. She angled her head and asked, "Why?"
His clear, blue eyes met her tired, brown ones. After a few seconds, she suddenly smiled. It was like a punch in his gut and he unconsciously held her closer, tighter.
"You're smiling."
"So?" she quizzically replied.
"You haven't smiled like that in the last six months." Her grin vanished as quickly as it appeared. He immediately regretted what he said, "I'm sorry… don't-"
"It's okay." She shrugged, "I tend to mope around." Another shrug, "You should have said something."
"You were mourning." He tried to offer words of solace, but he didn't know how, "It wasn't right for me to just, say something."
"Julian." She stressed his name, sounding almost desperate to change the topic. She had busied herself in all kinds of things to forget about the death of Irina Derevko so that she could just stop crying in the middle of the day. She couldn't afford to think about this now, especially since something larger than her is about to happen, "Never mind." She sighed.
He didn't let go of her hand. She didn't think he would have noticed that she never genuinely smiled in the last six months. He didn't seem like the person who noticed anything that didn't pertain to him.
"I really need to take a shower." She said finally. He then released her wrist after a few seconds and wordlessly walked away.
California
The security system was online when he turned off the lights of the living room. The only source of light on the first floor was the one on the porch. Sydney liked the porch light on – she said it made the house feel welcoming at night. And besides, Isabelle liked going down to the kitchen at odd hours in the morning. They were both afraid that she might trip in the dark.
The ocean was singing its lullaby and the wind was whispering its soothing words. They were telling him to let go of his worries, but at the same time, warning him of the dangers that they harbored.
He went to the glass French doors and looked outside. Everything was… calm.
"Mike?" Sydney's voice came from upstairs.
"Yeah, coming." He answered. He shook his head, 'Vaughn, stop your paranoia.' He mentally berated himself as he made his way to the stairs.
The digital clock on her side table flashed the numbers 12:30 and told her that it's been two hours since she slipped in the bed and tried to sleep. She couldn't figure out what was stopping her from drifting off.
'It's coming…'
She lay perfectly still on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Vaughn snored quietly beside her. Darkness engulfed them. When Vaughn told her that he felt like he was in a dangerous situation with no way out, she knew that something dark was on the way. She felt this dread six months ago and she was feeling it right now. She did her best to assure Vaughn, though, because she knew it would make everything worse if she told him that she felt the same way. They couldn't afford to lose their heads at the same time.
'It's coming…'
What's coming?
It was her unconscious that was repeating the phrases. She didn't know what it meant or who she was referring, but she repeated the phrase over and over, anyway.
'It's coming.'
Sydney sighed and turned to her side. She could hear the steady hum of the ocean coming in from the windows. After a few minutes of listening to the rhythm of the waters, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.
---
The strong winds were whipping her hair to her face. Rough stones were under her feet. The air she breathed burned her lungs, her throat, and she felt light, so light.
She was at the edge of a cliff. Its height from the ground was dizzying, terrifying. There was nothing below, or perhaps, she was too far up that she couldn't see anything underneath.
"Jump." A woman's voice said.
She glanced to her side and saw a young woman staring at her. She narrowed her eyes, unsure about what she had just heard, "Excuse me?"
"Jump. It's not going to hurt."
A clash of lighting and thunder. She looked above and saw that the skies were the color of blood and vultures were circling the area.
She glanced back at the woman, "I'm not going to—" but stopped because she wasn't there anymore.
"Sydney?"
The sound of a familiar voice made her whirl around. A tall man with steel-gray hair was standing a few feet away from her, with a puzzled look on his face. She swore she felt her heart stop when confusion and joy rushed through her.
"Daddy?" she ran towards him and crashed into his arms. She held him tight, not really believing what she saw and heard.
"Sweetheart." Her father said. She felt him embracing her tighter, "What are you doing here?"
"What?" she replied and gently pulled away from him, "What do you mean?"
Her father warily looked around. Worriedly, he shook his head and began to pull her away from where they stood, "Let's go. It's not safe here."
She couldn't understand it, but they started to run. For a while, she didn't really know where they were running towards, but suddenly, a flash of bright light blinded her. She stumbled forward, but her father caught her just before she fell on the floor.
She blinked. There was a floor? They were running on rocks a while ago.
Baffled, she looked around. There weren't any doors but somehow, her father had pulled her inside a building because they are now in a middle of a hallway.
"You're not supposed to be in here." Her father's voice was stern. His back was turned away from her and he was already a few feet off. She hurried towards his side and wrapped her arm around his, as if she won't ever let him go.
He still wore the same clothes he was wearing the last time she saw him. The blood stains and the bullet holes on his shirt were still there and he seemed a little grimy.
"This is a dream." She stated as they walked through the hallway, "My dream. I think I'm allowed to be in it."
Her father shook his head, "This is not your dream, sweetheart."
"Then whose dream is it?" she asked, incredulous.
"I don't know." He answered, "I really don't know."
They continued to walk. They didn't really talk. She couldn't bring herself to speak and she just wanted to be with her father. Yes, it had been a long time, but somehow, she felt like she was going to see him again. Soon.
She continued to look around as they went farther the hallway. It seemed endless, "Where are we going, dad?" she asked, looking at him.
He gave her a resigned smile, "Somewhere safe."
After what seemed like an eternity, a door appeared to their right. The hallway stretched out far beyond and she was thankful that they didn't have to walk to the far end.
"You can't stay here, Sydney." Her father said, sighing, "It's not safe for you."
"Dad-"
"I'm serious." He interjected, "At the far end of this hallway is the way out of this place. Run as fast as you can and don't look back. Do you understand me?"
She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a child's voice.
"Daddy, I can't open the door!"
She turned towards the voice and was shocked to see her six-year-old self, in braids and a yellow sundress, standing behind her.
"What are you doing outside?" her father's tone sounded aghast. He hurriedly scooped the little girl up and walked towards the door, "Didn't I tell you not to go outside the door?"
The little girl burrowed her face in her father's neck, something she remembered doing when she was that age. "I'm sorry, daddy." She couldn't believe her eyes. Her six-year-old self was here? "I heard you tell mommy that you'll go out. I just wanted to say goodbye…" What? Her mother was here too?
"Mom's here?" she almost choked on her words, "She's here? Can I see her?"
"Sydney-"
"Dad, please. I need to see Mom." She pleaded, "You keep saying this is a dangerous place for me. I'll go after I see mom."
Her father sighed, knowing too well that she would be stubborn about this. Her six-year-old self was now looking at her, almost in fascination.
"Fine." He said. He then knocked on the door twice and after a few seconds, the door opened slightly.
"Mommy!"
"Oh, sweetheart." She heard her mother's voice before she saw her. Her six-year-old self leaned forward to a pair of arms and her father gently passed the little girl to the unseen person.
"Mommy, the lady calls daddy, daddy too."
Her mother turned to face her. She looked very different from the last time she saw her. Her hair was swept up, and she was wearing a white blouse over brown Capri pants.
"Sydney?" she stood by the doorway, agape. Her six-year-old self squirmed in her mother's arms.
"I'm here, Mommy." The little girl said. Her mother gave the child a kiss on the forehead and set her down on the floor.
"There's a plate of cookies in the kitchen." She said to the child in a soft (almost conspiratorial) tone, "You can get one." The six-year-old's face lighted up and she scrambled inside the room.
Her mother turned towards her again, "What are you doing here?" Deep concern was seeping in her tone, "Are you dead?" she reached out to stroke her face. Sydney closed her eyes and touched her mother's hand. She was real.
"No, I'm not dead." She answered, "Not yet."
Her mother stared at her, "Then you shouldn't be here. It's not safe."
"Mom, this is a dream."
Her mother looked at her father for a split second before she looked back at her, "This is not just a dream." She stepped out of the doorway and embraced her, "I love you, sweetheart, but you have to leave."
As soon as she said those words, there was a heavy rumble. The walls began to shake. It was as if there was an earthquake.
"Irina, get inside." Her father said. He was already holding her mother's wrist, "Sydney, just run. Run as fast as you can."
The floor started to tremble. She couldn't understand what was dangerous about this. Her mother gave her a push as her father pulled her inside the room, "Run Sydney. And don't look back."
"RUN!"
The trembling started to become more violent. A shock suddenly went through her and she started to run. She ran quickly, ran as fast as her legs could take her. Her father said that the way out was at the end of the hallway. She must get to the end.
Another flash of blinding intensity. She used her arms to shield her eyes and she felt herself tumbling to the ground.
Jagged little pebbles scratched her arms, but she didn't feel any pain. She stood up and realized that the ground was still shaking. She frantically looked around. Was this the end of the hallway, the exit? It seemed that she was on the same cliff she was at a while ago.
"You can't run away from fate, Sydney." Her blood ran cold upon hearing that voice. She slowly turned around.
Sloane.
"You have a destiny. Don't fight it."
Thunder clapped in her ear. Fire raged in the skies. She couldn't bring herself to move. The land was breaking beneath her and she couldn't budge from her position.
Suddenly, by the corner of her eye, she saw a woman (the same woman she saw a while ago) running towards her direction.
Sloane took a step forward. She couldn't take a step backward. She was by the edge of the cliff. She didn't want to fall.
"Rambaldi had plans for you. Fate-"
The woman violently tackled her and she felt herself falling down the crag.
"I told you to jump. It's not going to hurt."
The sky fell and the last thing she could remember was the cliff eroding and Sloane watching them fall as they earth swallowed him whole.
Sydney's eyes flew open and she bolted upright almost immediately. Her breathing was labored and her senses were on alert for anything. She could hear her blood pounding in her head and could feel little beads of sweat trickling down her back.
The dream was harmless, but it unsettled her because it felt so real.
Only the crash of the ocean's waves lingered. Sydney glanced at Vaughn. He didn't stir when she woke up. Thank god. She didn't want to worry him.
Sydney took a deep breath and let it out after a few seconds. Her fingers smoothed the blanket on her lap and she waited for her heart to settle down before she reclined on the bed again. A brief glance at the clock told her that it was three in the morning. She had slept for only two-and-a-half hours.
The fraction of light that streamed inside their bedroom was dancing on the ceiling. She watched it with slight wonder. She didn't realize that even that little a light could make such astonishing shadows on a flat surface.
A few minutes later, her eyes fluttered to a close and she fell asleep.