Hermes

Author: Janet (SkyGirl5)

Genre: S/V, Alias Related (Sydney's missing 2 years)

Summary: Meet me tomorrow at noon at the church across the street. Go into the confessional closest to the front of the church. I have information regarding Sydney Bristow.

Disclaimer: Sydney, Vaughn, etc are properties of JJ Abrams and ABC.

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Chapters 1-10 // Chapters 11 - 16 + Epilogue

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Chapter 1

The sun was barely beginning to creep over the horizon and shed an orange glow through the window as Michael Vaughn rolled out of his bed. The night had been very long, full of tossing and turning and only sleeping for bits of time here and there. He could not stand lying down any longer; he needed to get up. Shuffling his way into the bathroom, his eyes were still closed tightly, causing him to painfully smash into the wall with his elbow and curse loudly. Once he safely made it into the bathroom, he groped his way to the shower and cranked the water on almost as hot as it could possibly be. He then stripped out of his boxers and t-shirt and climbed into the scalding hot shower.

Instead of hissing with agony from the steaming water like he usually did, he yelped for an entirely different reason; the water was ice cold. Now fully awake, Vaughn slid his way out of the ice bath and groped for the faucet handle once more. He turned it the fully way off and then the full way on that time making sure to crank it as far as it could possibly go towards the hot side. He was met with the same result: the water was freezing.

Groaning, he emerged from the shower, grabbing a towel on the way, and reached for the bathroom sink. He turned on the left side faucet and let it run for a few minutes before testing its temperature. Not surprisingly, the water was still freezing. Now irritated, he walked towards the phone and called down to the hotel’s front desk only to find that their hot water heater was, in fact, broken, but would hopefully be fixed by the end of the day.

Grumbling and mumbling under his breath some more, Vaughn returned to the bathroom to take a very fast, very cold shower. Apparently for him, it was just going to be one of those days. It seemed that for him, he was having a lot of ‘those days’ lately. In fact, he was just having one of those years, or nine months anyway. Any sunshine had disappeared from his life the moment Sydney Bristow, the love of his life, died.

That moment occurred on a seemingly ordinary day nine months, ten days, twelve hours and ten minutes earlier. Ordinary day was, of course, a relative term. Ordinary in the lives of Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn, international spies, was not even in the same realm of ordinary for the population of the world as a whole. They had been on a mission, not surprising for them, and returned home. An impromptu trip to Santa Barbara, California and a relaxing weekend with just the two of them and the beach awaited them after Vaughn’s debrief. Unfortunately, they never had the chance to experience it.

While Vaughn was half listening to CIA Director Kendall drone on and on and on about work-related things and half fantasizing about his weekend away with his girlfriend, Sydney was dying. Though no one was sure what exactly happened, somehow a fire had been started at Sydney’s house. The CIA monitors police and fire calls to their agent’s residences, so they knew immediately that the fire department had been dispatched to Sydney’s house. The agency knew all too well Vaughn’s romantic relationship with Sydney, so as not to alarm him (and pull him from his debrief) Dixon was sent to the house. There, Dixon was met with the grave sight and immediately called Weiss, knowing he was the best person to break the tragic news to his best friend.

When Weiss found out that Sydney Bristow, a close friend of his as well, was dead, he was uncertain what caused him to be more distraught: the fact that Sydney was gone from their lives, or the fact that, within moments, Vaughn would be too. With a solemn expression, Weiss delivered Dixon’s message to Vaughn, who naturally had an indescribable and uncharacteristic reaction. He shouted and screamed at his best friend for speaking such a terrible lie to him before turning his fury on Kendall. Then, when the disbelief set in, Vaughn bolted to his car and drove to Sydney’s at top speed. Upon seeing the charred wreck that was Sydney’s residence, Vaughn lost all control of his emotions; his life had been changed forever with the lighting of one match.

That was the last normal day of Vaughn’s life. That was the last day he was motivated to get out of bed in the mornings. That was the day that would be forever marked in his mind as the day that he lost part of himself, never to be returned.

The information regarding Sydney’s death was vague at best. Her body was burned beyond recognition; she had to be identified with her dental records. The body of her roommate, Francie, was also found. Her house had been so destroyed in the fire that all evidence was ruined along with any chance the CIA had of finding out what truly happened that fateful afternoon. Only one thing was clear: the fire was arson. Keeping this information in mind, the CIA looked into the death of their top agent, but with no evidence, it was impossible to determine if Sydney had merely been the victim of a misguided miscreant who picked her house at random, or someone who had been out to get her specifically.

After Sydney’s death, Vaughn sunk into a deep depression. One conversation with the therapist Dr Barnett gave him a medical leave of absence from his job. He simply became a shell, existing within the walls of his house, rarely leaving. He kept the blinds drawn at all times and the refrigerator well stocked with liquor and beer, which seemed to be his only beverage of consumption. Weiss kept a close watch on him, mostly for suicidal reasons, but Vaughn never even considered taking his own life. Well, maybe for a minute he did, but then he decided that he was not even alive enough to die; it simply would not work.

For three months he lived in the tomb that was his house, until, one day, he had a most unexpected visitor. When Jack Bristow showed up on Vaughn’s doorstep, he had no idea what to think. Actually, at the time, he was a little too intoxicated to think, but Jack took care of that. He emptied the remaining liquor from the bottle in Vaughn’s hand into the sink along with the rest of his supply. Then, he made a pot of coffee and waited for the younger man to sober up long enough to have an intelligent conversation.

When Vaughn did come around, he protested Jack’s presence greatly, stating that he was in no mood for a lecture. That was when his second, but not last, shock came. Jack was not there to lecture, well, he was, but not about the topic Vaughn was anticipating. Jack lectured Vaughn on his drunken behavior, telling him that Sydney would not have wanted him to be acting that way. Vaughn knew this to be true, but he needed the alcohol to escape from the pain he was feeling; it was his only out.

Jack went on to tell him, much to his utter bewilderment, that he respected Vaughn’s love for Sydney. Though he had never made it obvious, or even hinted at it a little bit, he also respected Vaughn as an agent, at least more than he had when they first met. Jack explained to Vaughn the situation surrounding Sydney’s death and detailed him on his theory that Sydney’s death was not an accident. Vaughn listened respectively, but in the end told Jack he wanted absolutely nothing to do with whatever Jack was scheming at. Then, he left to go and find himself a bar.



Chapter 2

That night after speaking with Jack things really began to change for Vaughn. He stayed at the bar he found until nearly midnight, when the bartender asked to leave after he had far too many shots of Jack Daniels. Vaughn staggered his way home and, at one point, nearly stumbled his way into an oncoming car. The car swerved to avoid him, honking its horn the entire time. This hardly succeeded in calling Vaughn’s attention in his drunken state, but he did manage to get himself back onto the sidewalk. After ten more minutes of walking, to add to his misfortune, he was mugged by a band of teenagers. Luckily, aside from his empty wallet with only a Visa card in it, he did not have anything on him worth stealing. The teens settled for punching him a few times instead of getting some cash.

After being pummeled Vaughn lay down on a nearby bench at a public bus stop. Lying there, he stared up at the smog covered sky, and for the first time since her death, he talked to Sydney. He asked her why she left and what happened to her. He wondered aloud if she was alright wherever she was, and asked what that place was like. He told her that he hated himself for drinking that way, but did not know how to stop. He needed her, but she was not there to yell at him.

He was on that bench for almost an hour before, suddenly, he heard Sydney’s voice. In his logical mind, he knew she was merely a drunken hallucination, but right then to him she seemed just as real as she ever was. She yelled at him for being that way and encouraged him to heed to her father’s request for his assistance. Her death needed to be avenged, she told him, and he needed to be the one to do that for her.

Once his Sydney hallucination disappeared, Vaughn passed out and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in a hospital. As it turned out, he nearly died that night due to his blood alcohol level being so high. A police cruiser on patrol spotted him on that bench and called an ambulance to take him to the hospital.

Nearly dying combined with Sydney’s hallucination made Vaughn realize he did have a problem. He voluntarily entered a six week de-tox program for alcoholics recommended to him by the hospital. When that was over, he went back to the CIA, ready to be reinstated; ready to work on whatever scheme Jack was up to, which, quite frankly, scared him.

As it turned out, Jack did not have much to go on except his theories. Though he had been working practically day and night for those three months it was hard to get started with so little to start with. Most of his leads went to dead ends and the others were pointless. Within another two months Vaughn was growing progressively more discouraged by the day.

All along he had been questioning his decision to return to the CIA. What good could it to, he asked himself. That life had already taken his father from him and Sydney as well. How much longer would it be before it took his own life? The answer to his musings came almost seven months to the day after Sydney’s death.

He was out on a mission; just another mission searching for clues, but they were ambushed. He was hit in his vest by three bullets. Save a few slightly painful bruises, he was fine. Weiss, on the other hand, was not. He was shot in the neck (again) and nearly bled to death before they put him on a medical helicopter. On the way to the nearest hospital his heart stopped. Simply put, he was in bad shape.

In the end, after half a dozen surgeries, he was assured by the medical team that Weiss would make a full recovery, but for Vaughn that was the final straw. The CIA life just was not worth it for him anymore, so he left once and for all. He stuck around LA for a while, listening to Jack’s newest theories occasionally, but in the end he just could not bear it. He could not stand the pain that LA gave him on a daily basis. Almost everything there reminded him in some way of Sydney and that was smothering him; he had to leave, so one day, he packed up his bags, got on a plane and never looked back.

His destination of choice was Paris. He had cousins there who he had never met, so he saw that as an opportunity to visit them and his uncle, who he had not seen since his childhood. After spending time with them, he moved onto Rome, intent on doing some greatly earned traveling. Instead of a peaceful vacation in Rome, full of art, culture and Italian food, Vaughn received a very interesting and unexpected turn in his life path.

The day was warm; perfect temperature for a fall day when he was sitting inside a café enjoying an authentic Italian pizza lunch. Just as casually as ever, a waitress strolled over to him and handed him a folded up sheet of paper, stating that someone had asked it be given to him. When Vaughn asked who, the waitress said she did not know and then left. Slowly, Vaughn opened the folded sheet of paper. Never in his wildest dreams could he have guessed the message inside.

Meet me tomorrow at noon at the church across the plaza. Go into the confessional closest to the front of the church. I have information regarding Sydney Bristow, it read and it was signed simply a friend. For a solid few minutes Vaughn stared down at the letter in his hand, unsure of how to react. It was so random, so unanticipated, so confusing.

After paying for his meal, Vaughn left the café, letter in hand, and strolled around the streets just thinking. On one hand, he could ignore the letter completely. After all it could very well have been a trap that would lead to his very painful and unfortunate death. Yet, on the other hand, he could not help but wonder if this was the clue Jack was searching for but could not find. Going to that meeting at that church could have opened up a world of possibilities; a world of leads that could have possibly lead to Sydney’s murderer.

He debated the decision to go or not to go the entire day and throughout the night, which was why he had a fitful sleep. Even during his ice cold shower, he still was not sure what he was going to do. Luckily, he still had four hours to weigh the decisions and decide before the meet with ‘a friend’.



Chapter 3

For most of the morning, Vaughn tried to talk himself into the decision of ignoring the note he received. It was definitely not worth it, he told himself. He put that life behind him when he left the CIA. He was not on a path of revenge anymore. That would do him no good. Even if he was able to look into the eyes of Sydney’s killer, it would not bring her back. Luckily, he had experience with just that.

All through his teen years and early twenties, ever since he found out the truth about how his father died. He thought that maybe, just maybe, if he looked into the eyes of his father’s killer, he would have clarity and would resolve the issues he had with his father’s death. Unlike most people who lost a loved one by murder, he actually had the opportunity to look into the cold eyes of Irina Derevko. Looking at her looking back at him did absolutely nothing to resolve any issues he had regarding his father’s death. In fact, it only made them worse. He knew the who, but he did not know the why, not exactly anyway. Then again, no answer could ever placate him, so it was useless, just like finding Sydney’s killer would be useless. At least, that’s what he told himself.

By eleven o’clock, an hour before the scheduled meet, the curiosity got the better of him and he left his hotel room bound for the church. At eleven fifteen, he turned back and walked back to his hotel, convinced he was fooling himself by going. However, at eleven twenty, he turned around once more. The wondering was too much for him; he had to know what that person had to say.

The church across from the café was rather small as churches went in that city. It still had the ornate decorations and beautiful stained glass windows, though. Being that it was a Catholic church, many statues of the Virgin Mary stood up at the front of the large sanctuary along with a beautiful wooden alter. Off to the left side of the church was a row of three confessionals. Vaughn glanced down at his watch and saw that it was ten to twelve yet there was no one in sight. Well, one elderly woman stood praying by the candles, but somehow Vaughn figured that was not the person he was meeting with.

With a ‘what the hell’ attitude, he strolled over to the confessionals, found the one closest to the front of the church per his instructions and ducked inside. He sat down on the uncomfortable wooden bench in the cramped space and waited. As he sat there, he observed what he could of the rather dark space. The last time he had been in a confessional booth he was six years old and forced to go by his French grandmother. At the time, he had confessed to stealing candy out of the candy jar in her house, but that was all. The thought of that memory almost brought a smile to his face until he heard a voice.

“Mr. Vaughn, I’m glad you came.” The voice was obviously coming from the other side of the confessional booth where the priest was supposed to sit and listen to the confessions. The voice, however, belonged to no priest. In fact, it was mechanical and breathy, very reminiscent of Darth Vader.

It only took Vaughn about a moment to realize that this person he was meeting with was obviously masking their voice, a thought that did not help to calm his nerves in the least. “Who are you?” Vaughn asked immediately, cutting to the chase.

“You may call me Hermès; I am a messenger,” the voice said.

Vaughn rolled his eyes slightly at this; he hated things that were cryptic. “Yeah, okay Hermès. How did you find me? And what information did you have about Sydney?”

“I found you by chance and, as for Sydney, you will find a folder taped underneath the bench on which you sit,” Hermès said.

With a furrowed brow, Vaughn reached underneath the wooden bench. His fingers came immediately in contact with a folder. As he was trying to untape the folder from the bench, Hermès continued, “Inside you will find information on how to contact me. I hope you keep in touch, Mr. Vaughn. Good Day.” Then, with the squeaking of a curtain, Hermès was gone.

Folder in hand, Vaughn emerged from the confessional and looked in every direction. Except for the elderly woman, who was now making her way towards the exit, the church was empty. Befuddled, Vaughn sat down in the nearest pew and opened the folder to examine its contents. Immediately inside was a piece of paper detailing how to contact Hermès, which consisted of a dead drop into a trashcan outside the café where Vaughn had received the first note followed by dialing a number from a payphone, letting it ring twice, ad then hanging up. Very reminiscent of Sydney’s SD-6 missions, Vaughn noted in an almost eerie way.

Once he had read through that paper, Vaughn flipped it over and began looking at the other papers in the file. The top page was a profile that appeared to be in CIA format for an organization known at The Covenant. Vaughn had never heard of such an organization, but before reading about it, he turned that page. Behind the profile there were pictures of Sydney’s charred house both in night and in day. Vaughn gasped aloud at what he found next. The pictures were of himself, Jack, Dixon, Marshall, Weiss and Kendall at Sydney’s burial. He had thrown Sydney’s ashes out to sea while the other men watched and spoke in turn. The picture appeared to be taken from the cliffs high above the beach they stood on; someone had been watching them. Hermès? Possibly. Or maybe someone he or she worked for or took the information he held from.

The rest of the file contained more information on the Covenant, reading Vaughn saved for his plane ride home. Whether or not the Covenant was a real organization was something he had to find out. Maybe it was the lead he was searching for, maybe it wasn’t, but either way he had to know.



Chapter 4

The first thing Vaughn did when he arrived back in LA was placing a phone call to Jack Bristow. During the plane ride, Vaughn had almost made himself laugh out loud at the concept that he was actually looking forward to a conversation with Jack, something that would have been down right terrifying not to mention a thing he would have only done if he was forced nine months prior. The most frightening part was Vaughn actually thought of Jack as an almost friend; that’s how close they had become in the months since Sydney’s death.

After leaving a voice mail message on Jack’s phone, Vaughn called Weiss, who he unfortunately had not spoken to since he left LA almost two months earlier. “Oh, hello Vaughn, it was so nice to see you the day I got out of the hospital and even all those times you came to visit me,” Weiss answered his phone with his usual sarcasm.

“Hey, I said goodbye to you,” Vaughn defended.

“Dude, I was doped up on drugs – you could have been dressed as a chicken for all I remember. Where the hell have you been?”

“Paris and Rome. Look I’ll tell you all about it when I come over. Is it alright if I crash on your couch for a few nights?” Vaughn asked. He had sold his house when he left the city two months earlier. At that point, he was not sure how long he would be staying in LA, so there was no point getting a hotel room when he could just infringe on the hospitality of his friend. After all, it was like repaying the favor due to the many nights Weiss spent on his couch.

“I suppose,” Weiss said slowly. “You’re only staying that long?”

“Not sure yet. Gotta go - customs, bye,” Vaughn said before hanging up his phone and getting into the very long line of disgruntled travelers.

~*~

On the way to Weiss’s in the car he rented, Vaughn received a return phone call from Jack. After chatting some small talk for a few minutes, Vaughn got down to business by saying that he had something important to discuss. The two men made dinner plans for that evening before hanging up their phones just as Vaughn arrived at Weiss’s.

“Man it is good to see you,” Weiss greeted his friend with a warm hug. “How the heck are ya man?”

“I’m okay,” Vaughn responded. Those days, ‘okay’ was the best he was ever going to be. “How about you? You’re looking great! Did you loose weight?” he asked, noting his friends belly was sizably smaller.

“Um yeah hospital food for over a month ‘ll do that to ya,” Weiss grumbled. “I’m slowly putting it back on thought.”

“Good to hear,” Vaughn rolled his eyes.

“So what were you doing in Paris and Rome?” Weiss asked as he led the way into his cluttered guy-like home environment.

“Visiting family and stuff… listen I’ll tell you all about it later, but I’m gonna catch a quick nap okay? I’m meeting Jack for dinner at six,” Vaughn said.

Eric made a face at him. “Dude, you and Jack hanging out is weird!”

“Um, okay…,” Vaughn said slowly. “Why, exactly?”

“Dunno…it’s just hard seeing Jack as a person and not as scary-Jack-man,” Weiss said with a slight shiver. Vaughn rolled his eyes, shaking his head, before shuffling over to the couch and collapsing, exhausted from jet lag.

~*~

“Michael, it’s good to see you,” Jack greeted the younger man with a firm handshake and a smile.

Vaughn smiled in return. Though it was very odd at first to have Jack Bristow calling him by his first name, it had become almost completely natural over their months spent searching for vengeance for the death of the woman they loved. “Good to see you too, Jack. How are things?” Vaughn asked referring to Jack’s ongoing quest to follow leads.

“Not good. Your message sounded promising though. I assume you wouldn’t be here unless it was something important,” Jack said. If there was one thing Vaughn had made crystal clear before he left, it was his desire to have it all over. He could not look anymore; not ever, for searching and finding nothing more than they already knew was just too heartbreaking.

Vaughn gave a gentle nod, and then lowered his voice as he leaned in closer to Jack. The restaurant they were eating with was frequented by both of them. It was clean and bug free, still he did not want many people hearing what he was about to say. “I was contacted by a person calling themselves Hermès.”

“Hermès?”

“Yes, Hermès. The person said they were a messenger and that they had information on Sydney,” Vaughn said. Jack nodded, looking intrigued. “They gave me this,” Vaughn said. He pulled the file out from his jacket and pushed it across the table towards the elder man. Jack took it and opened it cautiously. His first reaction was similar to Vaughn’s.

“This protocol is like Sydney’s SD-6 dead drops.”

“I know,” Vaughn nodded. Jack continued to leaf through the file, pausing to read the documents on The Covenant. Vaughn could tell immediately by his facial expression when he reached the most interesting piece in the folder.

“The funeral…,” Jack said in disbelief, glancing up at Vaughn. Again, he nodded. “This… someone did this – they wanted to be rid of her.”

“But why?” Vaughn asked the thing that had been eating him alive for nine months aloud.

Jack shrugged. “Any number of reasons. Sydney made a lot of enemies over the years; we all did.” Sighing, he turned back to the file. “The Covenant… I’ve never heard of them…”

“Me either. That’s why I brought this to you,” Vaughn told him.

“How were you contacted by this Hermès person anyway?” Jack asked after a few more minutes of staring at the file.

“I was just sitting at a café eating lunch when a waitress brought me a piece of paper asking me to meet at a church. That’s all,” Vaughn told him with a slight shrug. “Then Hermès came to the meet just like they said and gave me that.”

“You keep saying ‘they’…,” Jack said slowly, his brow wrinkling with confusion.

“I don’t know if it’s a man or a woman. They used a voice scrambler when talking to me; I couldn’t see them… I have no idea.”

Jack nodded in understanding. “I’m going to look into this Covenant group. Will you be around for a few days?”

“Yes, I’m staying with Weiss,” he said.

“Good,” Jack nodded, “I’ll be in touch.”



Chapter 5

For two days, Vaughn hung around with Weiss and Marshall and Dixon, catching up on what he had missed over his two months away (which really was not all that much). Finally, Jack got back to him with news relating to the Covenant. As it turned out, the CIA did have a file on the Covenant, but a very small one. Not much was known about their organization, but Jack took the information Vaughn received from Hermès and added it along with adding the Covenant to the list of groups to watch activities of.

Jack and Vaughn decided that it was important for Vaughn to set up another meeting with Hermès. Hermès’ intel coincided with what the CIA already found out, so it was worth Vaughn’s wile to see if he could get more. Plus they were both intrigued as to where Hermès acquired the picture of them at Sydney’s funeral.

Immediately upon returning to Rome, Vaughn began the protocol that Hermès gave him for seeking contact. He needed to dead drop a piece of paper containing a requested day and time of a meet at least a week in advance into the trash can outside the café. Then, he went to the payphone across the street, dialed the designated number and let it ring twice before hanging up. At that point, the curiosity within him took over and he waited at an inconspicuous spot to see if he could spot who came to pick up his dead drop. He needed to see who Hermès was to even the playing field if nothing else. After all, Hermès knew exactly who he was.

Vaughn waited for three hours until he was practically boring himself to death with nothing but waiting. In that time, no one came to empty the trash can and only ten people had thrown something in it. Finally, out of pure desperation for food and water, Vaughn left his post, figuring that he’d watch for who came to pick up his dead drop next time around, if there even was a next time.

~*~

The next week passed agonizingly slow for Vaughn. He was beside himself, unsure of what to do while waiting for his meeting with Hermès. In that week, though, he found himself actually wanting to get out of bed just so another day could pass, making one less day until he saw Hermès. For the first time since Sydney’s death, he was looking forward to life. The possibility of finding out something about The Covenant was driving him. As much as he wanted to just let it all go, he just couldn’t, especially not with Sydney involved; it was not in his nature. He could not let it go just like he could never let his love for her die. It simply was not possible.

When the day of the meeting finally arrived, Vaughn went to the church twenty minutes early. He sat in the pew next to the confessionals, faced the church entrance and waited. He was going to catch Hermès walking inside the church if it killed him.

Twenty minutes came and went and the only people passing in and out of that door were over the age of seventy. One younger person came in, but considering the fact that they were using a white cane and appeared to be blind, Vaughn figured it was safe to assume that was not his mystery informant. Finally, after twenty five minutes passed, Vaughn slipped into the confessional both, figuring that anonymity was part of Hermès’s game.

“You’re late,” the familiar voice of Hermès came from the other side of the confessional the moment Vaughn sat down.

“I am not!!” Vaughn defended quickly. “I’ve been here for twenty-five minutes.”

“I know,” Hermès said in almost an amused tone. “You think it’ll be that easy to find out my identity Mr. Vaughn?”

“Apparently not,” Vaughn muttered.

“I take it you found my intel on The Covenant worthy of your time since you are, in fact, here,” Hermès said.

“How did you get those pictures? Of Sydney’s…funeral,” he said in a quieter tone, that word still being difficult to say. “Did you take them yourself?”

“No,” Hermès said, “but I was there when they were taken.”

“Why?! Why would someone do this?! She was a good person damnit!” Vaughn shouted, his anger and hatred boiling to the surface.

“I’m sorry Mr. Vaughn; I do not know why,” Hermès said in an even tone.

Vaughn fumed. It was taking all of his self control not to rip down the partition between them, grab Hermès by the throat and demand some answers. If Hermès was there the day the photos were taken that meant that Hermès had something to do with Sydney’s death, didn’t it? So why was Hermès being so tight-lipped about it? “I just… I want to know why…”

A heavy sigh was heard from Hermès, though it sounded more like a whirr through the voice altering device. “We all want things Mr. Vaughn. I cannot give you what you want. I can, however, give you things you need. Associates of the Covenant are meeting next week in Amsterdam. It would be my suggestion to you to observe the meet and not apprehend those participating in it. After all, there are bigger goals here. Good luck.”

“Wait,” Vaughn said quickly, looking curiously at the partition between them. “Tell me one thing. These people – the Covenant – they wanted Sydney gone for a specific reason, didn’t they?”

“Yes, they did, but I truly do not know why. I’m sorry. Good luck Mr. Vaughn.”

If Vaughn had been staring any harder at the divider between the confessional booths, his eyes would have sprung right from his head. There was a mesh grate between the two tiny rooms, but it was nearly impossible to see through, especially due to the fact that both rooms were very dark. He was convinced though, that he heard something in Hermès, something familiar, something he’d heard before, and not in their last meeting either. He reviewed their conversation in his mind and he was convinced that yes, he did know Hermès from somewhere, but the question was – where?



Chapter 6

When Vaughn contacted Jack about the information he had received from Hermès, Jack immediately put the potential meeting in Amsterdam on the Echelon watch list so they could find out the exact time and place of the meeting. It only took two days for the Echelon satellite to get a hit and they found that the meet would be taking place the following Tuesday at midnight. In order to survey the meet, Jack set Weiss and two other agents. Vaughn flew to Amsterdam to accompany them, but of course he was there unofficially since he was no longer a CIA agent.

“So what’s with this Hermès person anyway?” Weiss asked Vaughn while they were waiting for the Covenant meeting. “I mean, how’d you find them?”

“They found me,” Vaughn told him. “And I don’t know who it is… but I have this strange feeling I’ve met them before, I’m not sure where though.”

“Freaky,” Weiss commented. “Met them how? Met them like they had a gun to your head at some point…or met them like they were your high school English teacher.”

“My high school English teacher was an eighty year old woman who couldn’t read because she was going blind,” Vaughn told him with a laugh. Weiss gave him an annoyed, ‘You knew what I meant!’ look. “I don’t know, like I said, I can’t figure it out. Shh, they’re here,” Vaughn quieted his friend before he could speak again.

Using their government issue surveillance equipment they were able to watch over the meeting, which, not shockingly involved Sark, McKennas Cole and a few other people that were not immediately recognizable by the CIA agents. They did not acquire too much more information, except that the Covenant members were talking about a new operative of theirs named Julia Thorne. None of the men had ever heard of her before, but the way Sark and Cole were talking about her, she seemed to be very important. Keeping this in mind, Vaughn made a mental note to ask Hermès about her at their next meeting, which he planned on setting up the moment he returned to Rome.

~*~

Vaughn’s next meeting with Hermès took place a week and a few days after he surveyed the meeting with Weiss. In that time, he had been using some of his old contacts to see if he could find any information about Julia Thorne, however none of those people had ever heard of her or the Covenant. Slightly discouraged, Vaughn waited impatiently in the confessional booth, his foot bouncing up and down on the worn carpet floor.

“Good Morning Mr. Vaughn,” Hermès’s mechanical voice filtered through the confessional divider. “I take it you found the meeting I informed you of helpful.”

“Yes I did,” Vaughn said. “Who is Julia Thorne?”

There was a solid few moments of silence before Hermès asked, “Where did you hear that name?”

“They were talking about her at the meeting you sent me to. Who is she?” he repeated his question.

“What did they say about her?”

“Nothing just that she was a new asset and they asked how she was doing – who is she?” he asked for the third time, getting slightly annoyed at Hermès’s evasiveness.

“I don’t know,” Hermès said quickly.

Vaughn’s brow furrowed as he accused, “You’re lying.” He was not sure exactly how he knew, but he definitely knew Hermès was lying, just like he definitely knew that he knew Hermès from somewhere in the past.

“No, I’m not; good day Mr. Vaughn,” Hermès said.

Anticipating Hermès’s quick exit, Vaughn bolted from the confessional just in time to see a figure slipping out the back of the church. Unfortunately for Vaughn, Hermès was clothed in a very heavy, very large trench coat that went almost all the way down to Hermès’ feet making identification nearly impossible. To his luck, Vaughn was able to catch a glimpse of high heeled boots, so assuming Hermès was not some sort of strange transvestite spy, Hermès was a woman. Much to his annoyance, though, she was walking so fast that Vaughn could see no more of her.

He stood there for a moment staring at the door she had slipped through before it hit him: what if Hermès was Julia Thorne? It would explain her evasiveness and lying about the subject, not to mention her short, borderline hostile attitude. Hermès being Julia Thorne seemed an entirely accurate possibility, but still the question remained: who exactly was Julia Thorne? With that question in mind, Vaughn headed to LA, needing to speak with Jack.

~*~

“Are you sure it was a woman?” Jack asked Vaughn.

Vaughn gave him a look. “How many men in the spy biz that you know of wear high heeled leather boots?”

Jack nodded defeat. “Okay, so assuming Hermès is Julia Thorne, why would she contact you in the first place? I mean, she clearly didn’t seek you out – who would have known you were in Rome? Even we didn’t know that.”

“Unless… the Covenant’s monitoring me?” Vaughn suggested. Jack gave him a slightly skeptical look. “Think about it,” Vaughn continued. “They wanted Sydney for a specific reason and the fact that Sydney and I were close was no secret, so what if they’re watching me to make sure I don’t come to close to them?”

“Yet again this begs the question: why?” Jack sighed.

A concerning thought entered Vaughn’s mind causing his face to contort with worry. When Jack asked what was wrong, he responded, “Well… what if Hermès/Julia is bait? What if the Covenant’s out to get met too?”

“Unlikely. They would have done that at the first or second meet,” Jack told him.

“So why is Hermès/Julia meeting with me? Could she….be a double or wanting to be one?”

“Possible,” Jack sighed. “We still need to focus on the fact that she sought you out and that this has something to do with Sydney…”

“Right… so what should I do?”

“Nothing yet,” Jack told him. “Wait and see if we can find out anything on Julia Thorne. When we do, you can contact Hermès again and see what she has to say on the matter.”

Vaughn agreed and, after visiting with Weiss, he went to the airport to board a return flight to Rome. Laughing slightly to himself he thought of a conversation between himself and Sydney, where the two of them discussed buying their own airline, since they traveled enough for it. With that thought in his mind, Vaughn fell into a peaceful sleep on the plane.

At the end of the flight, Vaughn awoke with more clarity than he had in months. He wasn’t sure if it was his dreams or his subconscious had finally worked it out, but he knew two things to be true. First, he knew – or at least had a very strong hunch – as to his prior relationship with Hermès, though the concept utterly blew his mind. Second, he needed to meet with her again, as soon as possible.



Chapter 7

Vaughn waited another day before he contacted Hermès once more. He wanted to give her a chance to cool off yet, if she was who he thought she was, she would definitely be willing to meet with him once more. As he waited for the time between his dead drop and their meet to pass, he kept talking himself in and out of who exactly he believed Hermès to be. On one hand, it was entirely unlikely. Beyond unlikely, in fact. Still, he had a gnawing feeling in his gut that he could not ignore. Plus there was the little tiny glimmer of renewed hope that he just could not let go of. If Hermès was who he thought she was, it would mean so much; so, so much.

On the day of their meet, a Thursday, Vaughn paced around his hotel room for the entire morning leading up to their noon meeting, practically revealing holes in the worn carpet floor. Even though he had been up since five am due to his inability to sleep, he was completely energized thinking about his meeting. Finally, by ten forty-five, he could not stand waiting any longer, so he left, bound for the church. After practically running the whole way there, he arrived almost an hour early. Knowing he could not sit still for that long, he paced around the church and its surrounding area for half an hour before finally taking his place in the confessional.

Starting at ten to twelve, Vaughn looked at his watch practically every thirty seconds. At five after twelve, he was beginning to get discouraged, given Hermès’s usual punctuality. Finally, though, at ten after twelve, Vaughn heard a soft squeak from the curtain in the confessional beside him and then a soft, “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s fine; I’m just glad you came,” Vaughn said truthfully. He took a deep breath, trying to pull together his thoughts. He needed to approach the situation cautiously, not just blurt out his suspicions and risk losing her completely, especially on the off chance he was wrong. “So, um, I was wondering if you had any more information on Sydney?”

“No, I’m sorry; I’ve told you all I have,” Hermès said.

“That’s too bad…,” Vaughn said sadly. “I loved her, you know? I mean, I never got to tell her… but she knew… I think she knew anyway. It’s hard… not knowing… In this life we’re always searching for answers…she was mine,” he said softly with a smile tugging at his lips even with his somber attitude.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone Mr. Vaughn; I understand that,” Hermès said in an almost strained voice.

“Are you married?” Vaughn asked.

“No.”

“Yeah me neither… I wanted to be though - to her… I never gave it much thought before she died, though. It’s one of those things you take for granted like the way she’d hug me and the smell of her hair on the pillow beside mine… after she died, though, I realized that I would have married her…,” he sighed, and let silence hang between them for a few moments before continuing.

“You know what I miss the most about her? It’s not her smile, though I think about it and dream about that smile practically ever second of every day…. And it’s not her laugh either, though I think I’d give my life just to hear her laugh once more… No, what I miss most is the way she breathed, so soft and gentle.

“I’d lay awake in my bed with her for just hours listening to her breathing and watching her sleep. I soon realized that the way she breathed in and out…in and out… in and out was almost completely in sync with my own breathing, just like the beating of our hearts were the same. She was my soul mate… she is my soul mate – after all, you only get once in a lifetime,” Vaughn ended his speech with a slight bitter laugh.

“Look I, um, I don’t know if you’re still over there… or if I’m just a crazy person talking to a curtain… but if you’re there… if you can hear me – please, please let me see you; I need to see you… I-” but he was cut off by the curtain to his confessional screeching open as the metal rings that held it up scraped across the metal bar that held them up. Her frame shadowed the doorway and her short, labored breaths indicated that she was crying.

Vaughn stood immediately and wrapped his arms around her, letting the curtain fall shut behind them. She cried onto his shoulder as he held her tightly, tears beginning to fall down his own cheeks. No words were necessary; at least not yet. The way they were holding each other tightly was enough.

“Vaughn I’m so sorry,” she croaked out finally. “I’m sorry… I thought if you knew… you’d come after me and they’d… they’d g-get you too and I…I couldn’t…”

“Shh, shh it’s okay,” he soothed her with his hand at the back of her head, stroking her hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re here now; it’s going to be okay,” he said. For the first time in almost a year, he truly believed it.

She nodded gently against his face and, in the process, brushed her lips softly against his cheek. The moment after this happened, Vaughn turned his face so his lips met hers and within a moment their kiss became more passionate, both of them expressing their pain and desires from eleven months apart.

Caught slightly off guard by her fervor, Vaughn was knocked back into the confessional wall behind him and came to rest on the bench while she practically tackled him, straddling his lap with one knee on the bench. “Syd, woah… stop…we’re in a church,” he mumbled between her kisses.

“Oh god, sorry! I… sorry,” she sighed, sitting down on his lap in the cramped space. She then tried to compose herself from her moment’s earlier breakdown by wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand as Vaughn nuzzled his face into her neck.

“Never apologize for kissing me,” he told her with a soft kiss on her neck. “I just figured us committing a sin in the church wouldn’t really bode well for us,” he said. This elicited a soft giggle from her that made his heart swell nearly to the size of that room. “God, Syd I love you…I missed you.”

“I missed you… I love you too,” she sniffed. “Vaughn I don’t have much time… they’re watching me…”

“You’re Julia Thorne aren’t you?” he asked, knowing that with the little time they had he needed to get as much information as possible to help her; them. She nodded softly against his face. “Syd, how? I mean…how?”

“They brainwashed me into thinking I was her Vaughn…it’s horrible,” she said with a hiccupped sob. “They have me doing these things… I just wanna be with you.”

“I know, I know,” he said, kissing her softly. He wanted that too, but he knew more than that, they had to do everything possible to keep her safe. “Everything’s gonna be okay Syd; we’re going to get through this, but if you need to go, go – we’ll find each other again I promise you.”

“Wait one thing – did you mean what you said just now when you said you…you wanted to marry me?” she asked timidly.

“I meant every word,” he told her.

“Then let’s get married – right now!”

“What?! You’re crazy!” he laughed.

“No, no I’m not – well, I am but I… I don’t want to die without ever being your wife Michael Vaughn,” she told him with honesty that brought tears to both their eyes. “Please, come on. The priest here he’s my friend… he lets me use this for our meets… he’ll marry us, please Vaughn, please…”

Vaughn cut off her pleas with a long kiss. “I want to marry you Sydney I just… well, does it matter that we’re not Catholic?”

“You’re catholic,” she pointed out.

“Um, not really…”

“Close enough; come on,” she said, grabbing his hand. She pulled him out of the confessional and back through the doorway Vaughn had seen her disappear through during their last meeting. He followed her back through the church to the priests’ office. There, she begged the father to marry them, stating a few little white lies about their relationship and identities along the way to get him to agree. In the end, he did agree and Sydney nearly hugged him she was so happy. Instead, she turned her joy on Vaughn, pulling him into an almost painfully tight embrace.

During their slightly modified impromptu wedding ceremony, Sydney and Vaughn didn’t take their eyes off of each other. They were memorizing what eleven months apart had done to their exteriors. For the first time, neither were wearing sad expressions. Instead, they had ear-to-ear grins that were borderline ridiculous. In the end, when they were announced husband and wife, Sydney pulled Vaughn into a searing kiss.

“I have to go,” she whispered to him when they broke. “Stick around for a few days okay? Give me your phone number and hotel and I’ll be in touch,” she told him. Then, with that information, another kiss and a huge smile on her face, she left.



Chapter 8

The following morning when Vaughn awoke, he was not sure whether he had been having a glorious but in the end cruel dream, or if Sydney Bristow was really his wife. Laying flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling, he decided to be optimistic and believe the second scenario to be true. After all, it was the better and preferable of the two scenarios, for, not only was Sydney alive, but the two of them were married, something Vaughn never dreamt possible.

As he laid there, massive grin still on his face, he reviewed the previous day’s events in his mind, noting the details he’d been too overwhelmed to notice before. For starters, Sydney was blonde. Her hair was not a platinum blonde color, though; it was darker blond, which was why in the dimly lit church (when combined with the fact that he was male and thus unaware of such details by birth) he had not noticed before. She was blonde, though, and Vaughn almost laughed at the knowledge that Sydney was probably most likely not happy with her hair color. She had told him on more than one occasion that she loved her brown hair and while changing hair colors with a wig for missions had its amusing points, she would never dye it a different color for good.

In addition to her hair difference, her weight was different as well. He felt it when she sat on his lap and it was even evident when he hugged her. Her never fat but once muscular frame was boney and gaunt. He feared that, underneath the layers of clothes she was wearing, it was battered as well.

The other thing that he noted and was almost surprised about was Sydney’s insistence on them marrying then and there. He did not mind in the least, of course; he was thrilled Sydney was his wife, but her insistence seemed so out of character for her. She was never an impulsive person; she always thought things out to the fullest extent before jumping into them. Granted, their time apart during which to the rest of the world she was dead probably had something to do with it. Plus the fact that he had practically proposed to her before hand, or at least, expressed his desires to be married to her. Anyway it was put though, he was simply thrilled to have her as is wife.

With that thought, Vaughn sat bolt upright in bed. Sydney was his wife; they were married. Of course, their union was not exactly official – at least not in a legal sense. It was real to them, though, and he needed to make it as official as possible. Quickly, he rushed to the bathroom and showered. Then, he grabbed his wallet and headed down to the concierge desk to ask where the nearest jewelry stores were.

~*~

An agonizing twenty four hours later, on Saturday morning, Vaughn finally received contact from Sydney. He received a call from the front desk telling him that there was an envelope waiting for him. Knowing it was from Sydney, Vaughn practically flew down the three flights of stairs and was panting by the time he arrived. When he ripped open the envelope he found a card key along with a hotel business card with a number on the back. He needed no further instructions. After racing back up the stairs to retrieve the package he purchased the day before, he was on his way.

He was over half way to the hotel before he had a mild attack of conscience. As much as he wanted to meet Sydney in a hotel room, where they would inevitably reacquaint themselves with each other to a much more thorough level than the previous day at the church, the risks to such a meet could not be ignored. If Sydney was being watched then, undoubtedly, the hotel where she was staying would be watched as well. Surely these people would find out he was coming there, which would end badly for all involved. Yet, at the same time, Vaughn knew that Sydney had to have known these concerned as well and had to believe that she had taken proper precautions regarding their safety. With this new resolve, he pressed on at a slightly faster pace.

When he reached the hotel, he slipped in a back entrance and headed up the closest set of stairs. Sydney’s room was on the fifth floor so, when he reached that level he was slightly out of breath due to the fact that he was practically sprinting, taking three steps at a time. He paused outside her hotel room door to compose himself a moment before slipping the key card into the latch. The door clicked open and he slipped inside, shutting the door quickly behind him.

Breathing a heavy sigh of relief at the fact that he had made it there safely with all his body parts intact, Vaughn looked around the room. It was a small, simple hotel room with a double bed. Unlike most hotel rooms he entered for the first time, that bed had a lump in it already, a rather large lump. Smiling to himself, Vaughn slipped off his shoes and approached the bed slowly. From the sounds of heavy breathing, it was obvious Sydney was asleep. Whether she had intended upon being asleep or had simply fallen asleep waiting for him, he was not sure. Vaughn walked around the other side of the bed so that he could see her face and, when he did, he couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that the makeup she must have applied to look nice, was completely and totally smeared across her eyes and cheeks.

His laughter woke her from her slumber and she smiled up at him, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself sleeping beauty,” he smiled back at her. “Is it safe here?”

“Mmm hmm,” she sighed, stretching. Then, suddenly, she gasped. “Oh no! I fell asleep and I didn’t get to make it all pretty in here!” she said in a slightly sad tone.

“Psst, like I care,” Vaughn laughed, lowering himself onto the bed with a wicked grin.

“No come on I’m serious. Just go into the bathroom for two minutes – two minutes!” she added at his protesting expression.

“Fine,” he grumbled at her. Then he walked into the bathroom and shut the door. He simply stood there for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror blankly, until he decided that as long as Sydney was prettying up the room, he was going to make efficient use of his time by removing all his clothes, or at least, some of them.

“Okay, I’m ready!” Sydney called exactly two minutes later. With her cue, Vaughn slipped out of the bathroom clad in only boxers. His attempt at surprising her backfired, though, for he was the one that ended up with his jaw on the ground.

Sydney stood beside the bed clad in a black lace nightgown that fell towards the top of her thighs. Across the rumpled sheets she had vacated were red rose petals and on the nightstand beside the bed were two lit candles. “I figure you only get one honeymoon, so we might as well make the most of it,” she said with a soft laugh.

Vaughn approached her slowly and pulled her into his arms. “It’s perfect,” he whispered before kissing her.



Chapter 9

“So about this whole honeymoon thing…,” Vaughn began softly. Sydney lifted her head from his chest to look up at him as she ‘mm hmm’-ed softly. “Well, so far it’s the best one I’ve ever had,” he said with a grin; she laughed softly. “But how long, exactly, will it be lasting?”

“Forever,” Sydney sighed, returning her head to its previous position.

“If only,” Vaughn laughed softly as he pressed a kiss into the top of her head. “Seriously?”

“Seriously until tomorrow night – I’m supposed to be on a mission, but I made someone else go instead,” she sighed. Knowing that he was about to open his mouth to make a comment about her ‘supposed to be on a mission’ statement, she added, “Don’t. Not now. Later.”

“Okay,” he agreed with a sigh. He had so many questions for her that he wasn’t sure they all could be answered in the thirty six hours they had together, but, at the same time, he didn’t want to waste their honeymoon on discussing such unpleasant topics. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. He gently slid out from underneath her and walked over to the tiny jewelry bag he’d left with his shoes. When he sat back down onto the bed, he turned the bag upside down and let three jewelry cases fall one by one onto the bed.

“What’s this?” Sydney laughed.

“I’m going to show you,” he grinned. Each in turn, he opened the boxes, revealing to her two silver wedding bands, one for each of them, and a silver ring with a one carat princess cut diamond on it for her. She looked at him in shock. “What?” he laughed. “I went to the jewelry store while I was still on my ‘oh my god she’s alive!’ high and got a little carried away.”

Sydney laughed at him. “You’re insane but I love you,” she said before kissing him. She then picked up the larger of the two wedding bands and reached for his left hand. When he gave it to her, she slid it on before kissing his knuckle gently. Once his ring was securely on, he picked up her two rings and placed them on her finger, mirroring her behavior of kissing her knuckle afterwards, only he let his kisses travel to her wrist and then slowly up her forearm. She nuzzled her face against his head as he did this.

After his final kiss at the top of her shoulder, he turned to her with a grin, tugging on the messy strands of hair resting on her shoulder. “So tell me about this because, frankly, I find it very intriguing to be married to Barbie.”

She laughed nervously as she elbowed him. “Shut up Vaughn. I’m not Barbie… and, I dunno, it’s like a constant disguise. Julia is a blonde.”

“I see…well, it’s kinda sexy,” he told her with a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well, you know Vaughn, you’re kinda sexy too,” she told him before pulling him down into a kiss.

~*~

After an afternoon full of alternating making love and holding each other, Vaughn and Sydney ordered room service. As they ate, they got down to the unpleasant task of discussing their time apart and Sydney’s new position as an operative of the covenant. “Remember that first folder I gave you with the pictures from my funeral?” Sydney asked him. Vaughn nodded silently. “I was there,” she told him as a tear slid down her cheek. “I saw the whole thing… I was paralyzed though… they gave me a drug so that I couldn’t move or speak. I just wanted to run down there and tell you all that I was okay, but I couldn’t,” she shook her head tearfully, “they wouldn’t let me.”

“Who?” Vaughn asked.

“I don’t know… I rarely saw their faces. That day was the first I remembered since my fight with Francie... only she wasn’t Francie – she was Allison,” Sydney told him. Vaughn nodded, already knowing this information. “They tortured me and brainwashed me into thinking I wasn’t me… only I couldn’t be brainwashed… I was just stuck there as me, missing you and wanting you to come and take me away only I knew you couldn’t because you thought I was dead.”

“I would have if-”

“I know,” Sydney cut him off with a small smile. “After I realized what they were doing, I became Julia voluntarily. It took me… I don’t know how long to convince them I believed that I was Julia and when they believed that, they let me go. My first real day of freedom was the day I saw you in that café…. I swear Vaughn, when I saw you, it took all of my self control not to just rush over to you because you were right there, so close,” she sniffed, and rubbed the tears from her cheeks.

“It took me about ten minutes before I could think clearly enough to formulate a plan. I knew that if you knew I was out there you’d come looking for me or try to follow me and at the time I was being watched so closely that I was afraid they’d get you too, which was why I came up with the secrete meet. You see, Julia is supposed to be a devout catholic – ironic considering her actions…but anyway, my security detail didn’t follow me into the church when I went to confession so it was safe,” she smiled slightly.

“Considering her actions?” Vaughn repeated slowly in a questioning manner.

Sydney averted her eyes down to her then empty plate. “Assassin for people the Covenant doesn’t like… thief for things the Covenant wants…anything they want done, I do, or else they’ll kill me.”

“Oh Sydney,” Vaughn sighed as he pulled her into his arms. She clung to him tightly, squeezing her eyes shut and letting his strong arms around her melt away her pain. “I’m so sorry, so, so sorry we didn’t find you… or know or…”

“It’s okay,” she sniffed. “Just hold me.”



Chapter 10

“So how’d you figure out it was me? I mean, that I was Hermès?” Sydney asked later on that evening after she’d had a good cry in Vaughn’s arms.

“Well, for starters, your dead drop protocol bore a strikingly similar resemblance to your SD-6 days, which both your father and I noticed and-”

“Dad?” Sydney interrupted him.

“Yep, he knows all about my meetings with Hermès… he and Weiss, though Weiss is a bit more skeptical,” Vaughn said. “And then… I dunno, I just had this feeling we’d met before and… I dunno, when I was on the plane coming back here from LA it just sorta hit me that it was you. I mean, I didn’t believe it because I thought you were dead and all but somehow I just knew,” he told her.

“And what you said about me… god, you’re so perfect – you’re the most perfect boyf- I mean husband,” she corrected herself with a smile, “ever.”

“A husband of the year award… just what I’ve always wanted,” he said with a dreamy sigh. Sydney elbowed him lightly. “I’m serious! Though I can’t take all the credit since I did lay it on a little thick, knowing you were listening,” he grinned. She laughed.

“Oh you know what I should have brought? Champagne to celebrate,” Sydney said with a grin.

“Can’t have it,” Vaughn shook his head. Sydney looked at him curiously. “I, um,” he began, lowering his eyes so he didn’t have to meet her questioning stare, “I spent six weeks in rehab and I’ve been sober for, like, seven months so…”

Using her finger tips under his chin, Sydney tilted his head up so that she met his eyes when she asked, “Vaughn?”

With a heavy sigh, Vaughn began his side of the events over their time apart. “When you died… I didn’t know what to do with myself… I just hurt so bad that…that I started drinking because when I was drinking it didn’t hurt as much. Weiss tried to sober me up…your father tried… actually he did sober me up long enough to tell me what he’d been looking into about your death… I didn’t listen though… after he left – taking all of my alcohol with him, mind you – I went out to a bar, got trashed and passed out on some random park bench. I woke up in the hospital and that’s when I went into rehab… it was about four months after you died,” Vaughn told her in a guilty tone.

“Vaughn…,” Sydney sighed, her tone indicating disapproval and yet, at the same time, guilt and sadness.

“It’s okay,” he assured her with a smile. “I’m fine now, more than fine… your father helped me and-”

“My father?” Sydney asked, sounding surprised.

“Yeah, we’re like… friends now,” Vaughn told her.

She looked utterly stunned. “You’re kidding.”

“No, but that’s the same expression Weiss gets every time I go out to dinner with him,” Vaughn laughed at her.

“That’s so weird,” Sydney told him seriously. Vaughn shrugged. “I’m so sorry Vaughn,” Sydney sighed as she leaned her body against his.

“Hey don’t be sorry; it’s fine. This isn’t you fault.”

“I know…I just… I wish it was over,” she sighed.

“It will be,” he assured her. “Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but it will end Sydney and, when it does, you and I are going to buy a deserted island somewhere and go live on it with our ten children,” he told her with a smile.

“TEN CHILDREN?! Jesus Christ Vaughn do you know how babies are born?!” Sydney asked in a mixture of horror and terror.

Vaughn laughed. “Well how else are we going to play hockey on the island!?” he asked with a grin. She gave him a look. “Okay, I was exaggerating. Not ten children… just two.”

“…or three,” Sydney added with a smile.

“Or three,” Vaughn nodded.

“Thanks Vaughn,” Sydney said before kissing him sweetly.

“For what?”

“Being you, being here, loving me, making me smile, making me laugh… everything,” she told him.

~*~

“Nooo, I don’t want you to go,” Sydney whined, stealing Vaughn’s left shoe from him before he could put it on. It was five pm on Sunday and after spending over thirty uninterrupted hours together, they finally had to part.

“You’re the one that told me I had to leave ya crazy person,” Vaughn said, grabbing for his shoe. They played tug-o-war with the shoe for a moment before Sydney finally let go, but reluctantly.

“I know,” she sighed, flopping down on the bed. “But I don’t want you to go, I mean… I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”

“I know,” he said, sitting down beside her. “We’ll see each other soon enough – but only when it’s safe, okay?”

Sydney nodded reluctantly. “Are you going to tell the CIA I’m alive?” she asked.

“Well, no, not personally. I don’t work for them anymore and have no intentions of going back…”

“I don’t want anyone to know,” she told him before he could continue. He gave her a strange look. “I don’t! I’m just… I’m afraid of too many people knowing; it’s dangerous.”

“Okay, but Syd, I have to tell your father. Quite frankly I’m terrified of keeping secrets from him lest he remove my head – or worse – my child bearing ability later on,” Vaughn said with a slight shiver.

“I thought he was your friend,” she said in a tone that made it clear she was mocking him.

“All the more reason to tell him,” Vaughn smiled.

“Fine,” Sydney sighed. “But no one else!” Vaughn nodded in defeat and went to get off the bed, but before he could, she stopped him. “Here,” she said in a sad tone as she slid off her engagement ring and wedding band, “I can’t keep these; they’ll be seen.”

“Okay,” he said, taking them. “I’ll keep ‘em safe for you, I promise.”

After exchanging a few more kisses, ‘I love you’s, and a few tears from Sydney, the two of them parted, not knowing when they’d see each other again, but both of them knowing that they were definitely going to make it.

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Chapters 11 - 16 + Epilogue