Until We Meet Again

Author: Janet (SkyGirl5)

Genre: S/V, AU CIA

Summary: Michael Vaughn is a CIA officer working in Washington, DC. He is assigned to be a double agent inside the covenant where he is to look for a missing CIA operative: Sydney Bristow.

A/N: Ok so assume that Sydney's life happened pretty much exactly like Alias, only Vaughn was never her handler. Danny was killed, she became a double agnet and took down SD-6, then the covenant came from her. But she's never known vaughn at all, but Vaughn knows OF her.

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

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Chapters 1-10 // Chapters 11 - 20 // Chapters 21-30 // 31-40 // 41-50 // 51-60 // 61-65 + Epilogue

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Chapter 1

September 30, 2005

My father was a good man. He was a great man, a company man, and one of the best CIA officers of his time. He went on more missions than I can remember and almost all of them were a success. He was devoted to his job and that devotion killed him. On the surface and to his officers he never questioned anything. Every assignment he took and carried out with the exception of his last one. The one where he didn’t come home. But in his journals, he questioned. He questioned the CIA director’s assignment. He wrote out what he should have said to his superiors. He wondered if the decisions they made were correct or dangerous. He should have said those things but he didn’t.

When I discovered his journals shortly after joining the CIA myself I vowed that I would never do that. Because following protocol and never questioning it killed him. I realize that protocol is there for a reason and I do follow it but I can’t help but wonder if my father had followed his gut instincts about his last mission he would be alive today. Because of that I vowed, I swore to myself I would never do that. But here I am, doing exactly that.

Just a few hours ago I was given an assignment that quiet frankly, terrifies me. I’m on the plane right now, en route to France where I will now be based. I’m slightly thankful for this because France is like a second home to me. I was born there and spent many happy childhood years there. But still, I’m terrified. My assignment is deep cover. Deep, deep cover. Deeper cover than I ever thought possible so, of course, it’s terribly dangerous. I’m going to be a double agent for one of the most dangerous organizations there is.

I don’t know why they picked me, truly, honestly I don’t. I think I’m too green, I’ll admit it. Yes, I am a good agent. Yes, I have been on many successful ops. Yes, it would appear that I have inherited many of the same good instincts as my father but, still, I’m not quite thirty years old. I’ve been an active field agent for not quiet five years but... I don’t feel ready for this. This is high stakes.

Still, they picked me. They picked me and I will have faith in their decision because this mission is not expendable to them. They trust me and I’m grateful for that but still... I’m just not sure.

Tomorrow at 1800 hours I am to report to my new job as Pierre LaFont. I don’t know how long my job will last. I don’t know what it will entail. I don’t know what I’m getting into I only hope that I have the strength to carry it out.

Slowly, Vaughn put his pen down and scanned over the page in his journal he had just written. Then, he put the cap back on the pen and put the lock back on the journal. He laughed to himself, thinking that a locked journal is something that a little girl would have. A tiny silver lock with a key on a pink string so that her older brother wouldn’t read her private, innermost thoughts. That isn’t why he locked it though. He locked it because he was entering enemy territory and if they found that journal, what he had written down, he would be dead in an instant. Actually, in an instant he would be worse than dead. He would be tortured endlessly for information until the enemy finally had the mercy to let him die. But still, he had to write, it kept him sane because at that moment, he felt like he was going out of his mind.

His leg bounced nervously in the isle as he reached down into his bag and pulled out his case file and assignment.

Pierre LaFont: Former French Intelligence. Recently a mercenary and assassin for black ops organization. Highly skilled in weapons, torture and linguistics. Known as the man with many faces. According to sources he never looks the same way twice because of a combination of plastic surgery and prosthetics. His new assignment: Recruited by a group known as the Covenant. Status within the organization: unknown.

The Covenant: Made up of former KGB, former K-Directorate, former CIA, former black ops. Lead by: unknown. Deal in weapons sales, illegal trade and most favorably illegal nuclear weapons.

His assignment? Impersonate Pierre LaFont who had been intercepted by the CIA only two days before his contact with the Covenant. While impersonating LaFont he was to be feeding the CIA information though back channels and a series of dead drops. While in deep cover he was to have absolutely no direct contact with the CIA or any of its operatives for such contact would be far too risky. In addition to feeding general information to the CIA, he was supposed to look for information for a missing CIA agent who they though had been taken by the Covenant.

Case file: Agent Sydney Anne Bristow. Born: April 17th, 1976. Residence: Los Angels, California, USA.

Agent Bristow was recruited into the black ops division SD-6 in 1997. SD-6 told her that they were CIA and like many of their other operatives, she believed them. In June 2003, her fiancée was executed by SD-6 security section after finding out that Bristow did not work for a bank, which was her cover, but she was a spy. Her father, CIA Agent Jack Bristow, who at the time was a double agent within SD-6, revealed to her the truth about who she was really working for. Bristow then brought this information to the CIA where her case officer was Agent Andrew Mitchell. She became a double agent, working with her father, to bring down SD-6.

SD-6 and the other SD cells were brought down in December 2004. Bristow stayed on with the CIA until June 2005 when she opted to take a leave of absence from the organization. She is an extraordinary agent and a valuable asset to the CIA.

On August 7, 2005, there was a break in at her home in Los Angles and Agent Bristow went missing. Her father suspected fowl play and the Agency believes that the Covenant may be responsible for her disappearance. This information, however, is purely speculation and unconfirmed.

Along with Agent Bristow’s profile there was a picture. Wow, she is beautiful, thought Vaughn.

A voice came on over the plane’s loudspeaker. “We are now beginning our decent into Paris, please fasten your seat belts.” The message was then repeated in French. Vaughn tightened his seat belt in his lap and stared out the window to the plane. It was dark, night had already fallen in Paris, but the gleam of the Eiffel tower could still be seen.

Vaughn shifted his watch nervously on his left wrist. He sighed and leaned his head back against the head rest, praying that the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that would go smoothly. Still, he was uncertain.



Chapter 2

Being tossed roughly into her cell was something Sydney Bristow was used to by now. It had been over a month, she thought anyway. She wasn’t sure how long it had been. The first few days she had kept track but then she just gave up. It didn’t matter anyway, she was stuck; trapped. It’s not like she could tell when a new day started so keeping track of the days would have been impossible anyway. Her tiny cell was barely long enough for her to lay down in and not even wide enough for her to spread her arms open. It was pitch black with no windows and the only light coming from the tiny crack underneath the door. Inside the room was nothing. Not even a metal cot to lie on. Nothing but cement floor and cement walls.

Theoretically she could have told the days by how frequently she was brought food and water. But the time in between was too far apart. They didn’t bring her food and water once a day. She was lucky if she got it every other day or every third day. She knew that they only fed her enough to keep her alive but why they kept her alive she was unsure of. They hadn’t asked her one single question. In the time she had been there they hadn’t spoken to her at all. In fact, she had only left her cell five times since going there. Each of those times she was beaten roughly and then injected with something that made her loose consciousness and the next thing she knew she was back in her cell, pain throbbing all through her body.

She remembered the exact moment they took her. It haunted her every time she tried to sleep. It was her one moment of weakness; her one mistake and she’d pay for that mistake for the rest of her living days.

Just another boring Saturday night as she liked to call it. After doing her usual Saturday chores and errands which included vacuuming her house from top to bottom, scrubbing her kitchen floor, folding her laundry neatly and doing grocery shopping and any other errands necessary (all neurosis blamed on half a lifetime as a spy), she settled down on her couch with her take out carton of Chinese and a Lifetime movie. Twenty minutes into the movie, she heard a noise.

Immediately the spy in her kicked in and she became tense and alert. Slowly, she crept off the sofa and knelt down on the floor. She ran her hand under the smooth underside of her coffee table until she hit a cold, hard mass. She quickly pulled the handgun from its position and held it at the ready. Though her life as a CIA agent was over, some habits were impossible to kick, including the two concealed weapons in her home: one under the coffee table and one under her bed.

There was a loud creak and her front door swung open. She aimed her weapon but there was no one there. Cautiously, she lowered her weapon and took a step towards the door. That was her one mistake. She was careless; she wasn’t focused; her skills were rusty. A click, a sharp pain in the back of her neck, and then darkness.

One mistake. Mistakes. You’re supposed to learn from them, they make you stronger. But in a high stakes lifestyle one mistake can mean the difference between life and death. That’s the irony of it all. She had quit that high stakes lifestyle because it wasn’t worth it to her anymore, but suddenly against her will, she had been violently pulled back in. Did they know she was missing? Did they know where she was? Could anyone save her? Questions she did not like to think about for they made her curl up into a corner of her cell and cry until she was too exhausted to do anything but just fall asleep and pray, not for another day, but for an escape; a way out.

Now two men had come in, they had taken her by the arms and were dragging her out of her cell. Her eyes burned and watered from the sudden harsh lighting. Her feet were dragging painfully against the ground but she could do nothing about it. She was too weak. Normally, she was an intensely strong person who would have never put up with such a situation. She would have used an opportunity like that to fight and try to escape. But somewhere along the way life had tried to beat her down and every other time she got back up, brushed herself off and kept walking with her head held high. But then.... well, maybe she was just tired of fighting. Maybe she needed a reason to fight for another day.

~*~

“Name?” A stern, rather large looking guard asked when Michael Vaughn arrived at his meet point that next morning.

“Pierre LaFont.” He said in his perfected French accent. The man looked him up and down once before opening the door and letting him inside. Slowly, Vaughn made his way back through the hall towards an open door half way down the left side. There was an extra proud saunter in his gait and he held his head high with an air of superiority and disapproval. He was dressed in an expensive light grey silk suit with a slightly open collar and a silver chain around his neck. In fact, it was the very chain that had been taken off the real LaFont for it was his trademark. The necklace had two circular pendants on it: one of the Virgin Mary and another of LaFont’s own design. Vaughn found it to be tacky as hell but he had to wear it anyway.

Finally he reached the open door and knocked on it lightly before going inside. He immediately recognized the man sitting in front of the desk that was in this minimally furnished, bunker like room. McKennas Cole, known assassin and former SD-6. The woman behind the desk he did not recognize. She appeared to be in her late fifties or early sixties and she had long black hair that came to her hips though it was pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. They both stood when he entered the room.

“Ah, LaFont, I presume.” Cole said coolly.

“Oui.” Vaughn said as he shook Cole’s outstretched hand.

“McKennas Cole, it is a pleasure to finally meet you.” Cole said.

“Monsieur LeFont, you’ll have to excuse my associate.” The woman said as she walked around the desk and extended her own hand.

“It is ok.” Vaughn says. “And who are you?”

“You may call me Sofia.” She says. “So, you have received our communications have you?”

“I have.”

“And you feel that you are up for this position?”

“Yes.” Vaughn nodded.

“Well, I hope you don’t mind but we have a sort of test for you.”

“But of course, I would expect nothing less.” He said to them.

“Good.” The woman smiled. “I hear that you are excellent in interrogations.”

“You hear correctly.” Vaughn nods with a sly smile.

“Perfect. There is someone we would like you to meet.” She said as she walked past him and out of the room. Vaughn followed her and Cole down the hallway.

“Is there something particular you would like me to get?” He asked.

“Who she works for, her name, basic information.” She told him.

“Very well.” Vaughn nodded.

Sofia stopped in front of a door that was guarded by a large man with a machine gun. “Step inside; she’ll be here in a minute.”

He obeyed as she asked and stepped inside the traditional interrogation room. Cement walls, cement floor, metal table with two chairs and an overhanging single lamp. Simple yet efficient. Vaughn’s head snapped to the side as the door flung open suddenly and a pale blur slid in and across the floor with a rather sickening thump. Then the door slammed shut so hard that the lamp shook and flickered slightly.

Immediately, Vaughn put on his double agent face. He was no longer CIA Agent Michael Vaughn – calm, good guy who avoided hurting anyone unless absolutely necessary. He was Pierre LaFont – cruel, heartless man who was about to interrogate this person for all she was worth. He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it on the back of one of the chairs in the room. Then he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. While doing this, he noticed that the person on the floor did not move at all, she simply laid still.

He walked over to her, picked her arms up and dragged her into the remaining chair in the room. She did not protest but merely flopped there, her head hanging against her chest. “Bonjor.” He began. “Or perhaps you would prefer English?” He said in his faux-thick French accent. At these first words spoken the woman raised her head and looked up at him. Vaughn had to fight to keep his cover because when he saw her, he nearly gasped.

This was Sydney Bristow, infamous agent within the CIA. The one he had supposed to be finding out information about was sitting right in front of him. Vaughn had always wanted to meet her. He had only hoped that their meet would occur under friendlier circumstances. Her infamy spread throughout the agency at the take down of SD-6 which she practically did single handedly. That is when every CIA operative learned her name. In subsequent weeks and months the gossip and buzz going through the office was about her extraordinary skills and instincts in the field. She truly was a superb agent.

But standing there, looking at her, Vaughn could hardly see any of it. All he saw was the beauty in her broken eyes that were deep pools of chocolate and pain. Her skin was striped with old cuts and bruises. Dried blood matted down her matte, brown hair to her head and the deep, dark circles under her eyes were prominent. She didn’t say a word.

“So, little girl.” He began again, quickly, not knowing how long he had been silent. “Tell me, who do you work for?” She didn’t respond.

“Perhaps that is too complicated a question for you. Maybe we should start with something simpler, eh? My name is Pierre. What is yours?” He asked her.

She looked away from him and back towards the door from which she had been thrown only moments earlier. She was too exhausted to care and at the hopes of maybe not haven her arm painfully wrenched from her socket like the last time, she gave in. “Sydney.” She said quietly.

“Sydney.” Vaughn repeated, curious as to why she gave up so easily. “So tell me Sydney, who do you work for?”

“I work...” She began with a heavy exhale. “I work for the University of California... literature....faculty...” She said, her words slurring together part from exhaustion and part from the lack of will to open her mouth any wider.

“I highly doubt that you work for a University, Sydney.” He said to her. She didn’t say a word.

There was a knock on the door and Vaughn walked over to it. “That will be enough LaFont.” Sofia said. Vaughn nodded and walked out of the room. He turned and watched as two guards drug Sydney out of the interrogation room and disappeared around a corner. “Well, I’m sure that you had a long flight so I’ll let you get settled into your new place. A driver will take you there now.”

“Merci.” He smiled. As he was making his way out of the building he glanced down at his watch, his father’s watch, and noticed that the second hand had stopped ticking. Strange, he thought, it was working when I got here.



Chapter 3

Upon arriving at his new apartment, or rather LaFont’s new apartment, Vaughn began to snoop for surveillance equipment. He found exactly what he suspected, audio surveillance everywhere and video everywhere but the bathroom. He carried his bag to the bedroom and set it down on the bed. Then he took from it a brown, rather wrinkled paper bag. Simple and yet very effective. Subtly, he stuffed the bag into his pocket and casually walked towards the bathroom. Once in there he used the edge of the counter for support as he took out a pen and began scribbling on the paper bag.

I found Bristow. The covenant is holding her captive. They had me interrogate her but she said nothing. How am I to proceed?

One of the benefits of being located only minutes from Paris, a major metropolitan city, was the ease of being able to subtly dead drop something for the CIA to find. After he finished writing on the bag, he crumpled it up and stored it away for his trip into Paris the next day. Then, he went to unpack the rest of his suitcase.

He hung his new and tacky suits in the closet and tossed some shoes on the bottom. Then he took out his LA Kings PJ pants (a ‘Michael Vaughn’ item he refused to live with out), changed into them and crawled into bed. He reached for his journal, unlocked it and then stared at the next blank page for almost five minutes before getting his pen and scribbling down a single sentence.

I’m in way over my head here.

~*~

The purpose of solitary confinement in total darkness was to break a person down to the point of insanity. Humans by nature needed other humans and everything needs light. Being left alone with their own thoughts and only the voices in their own head drives them to the very brink. After a person has reached this point, they’ve become broken, battered and barely existing at all. Then, if it is desired, the enemy will build this person back up, molding them into who they want them to be.

Sydney knew this. It’s Capture and Torture 101 information. She knew it and yet she submitted to it anyway. Alone, in the dark with her thoughts she was trapped. Sometimes, when she was feeling a bit better, she tried to lighten her darkened mood by singing in her head or reading a book in her head or watching her favorite movie in her head. But those things only lasted for a few moments at a time and then it was back to the darkness and wondering. Why were they keeping her alive? What did they ultimately want? Would they turn her into something else? Somewhere down inside of her she wanted to fight but could she? She wasn’t sure.

The worst was the dreams. The torture she could handle along with the starvation and the pain. But the dreams were more difficult. Sleep was usually an escape; a time to be free of what was plaguing you in the real word. But when she slept she dreamt horrible vivid dreams of pain, suffering and torture. Some of it was flashbacks to times she had been tortured before or even more recent torture that these people had inflicted on her. Some of it was new, things that hadn’t happened to her when she was awake but felt just as real in her sleep. But her newest dream, the dream she had that night, there were flashes of brilliant green eyes.

She awoke with a start in a cold sweat, the dream she had just been having still fresh in her mind and making the bile rise in her throat. A few deep breaths calmed her down but she still backed herself up against the cement wall, as if that would keep her away from the demons haunting her. She had a flashback to her interrogation the previous day. It had been the first time someone had spoken to her only in the dream the interrogation went further than in reality and she was being beaten. The only thing identifiable on her attacker’s shadowy face were brilliant green eyes that were almost glowing at her like shining emeralds.

Those eyes were the only thing she remembered of that man Pierre, she thought his name was. She remembered them because to her, they were odd. Usually the men who beat her had dark, clouded eyes filled with hatred and heartlessness. But those eyes were soft and kind and they were clear and sparkling. In a different situation she could have stared into those eyes for hours and just gotten lost in them. But the thing that struck her as even odder was that in them she saw pity and fear.

She immediately shook off that thought. It must have simply been a hallucination of her starvation. The only thing she did hope was that her dream wouldn’t come true and that her arm wouldn’t be painfully snapped by the green eyed mystery Frenchmen.



Chapter 4

That first month as Pierre LaFont was the most difficult month of Vaughn’s life. It was hard enough phasing into the life of someone else for the job but considering the person he had become was different than him in every way it was particularly dreadful for Vaughn. He had become one of the Covenant’s main interrogators from what he could tell. Three times a week he would rough up some thug until he found the information necessary or Cole or Sofia told him to quit.

To make matters worse, he hadn’t received any contact from the CIA. He had sent them three paper bags of information through dead drops and he was almost convinced they had gone through but still he had received nothing from them and it was beginning to worry him. There was no way he could survive completely cut off from the CIA, making his way in life as Pierre LaFont for the rest of time.

And, in addition to all of that, was Sydney Bristow. True, he had only been in the room with her for fifteen minutes, if that, and in that time she had thought him to be the enemy but that was enough, that was all he needed. She hadn’t left his mind since that night. He hadn’t seen her since that night, something he was both thankful for and regretful of. Thankful because he wasn’t sure that he could handle hurting her like all the others, certainly not if he had to look into those eyes she had but regretful because he wanted to see her again. More than anything he wanted to help her; set her free from her imprisonment and for that, he needed the CIA.

Around the time he had really started to give up hope, he was finally contacted by the CIA by way of a pizza box. Strange, yes, but also effective. Their message, however, was less than satisfactory. They had gotten his messages and were quote ‘working on the situation’ that was all that was said. So, slightly disheartened, Vaughn went dutifully back to his life as Pierre LaFont.

His newest assignment: single handedly infiltrating a CIA facility in, ironically enough, Washington DC, his hometown. He hadn’t quite figured out what exactly he was going to do when he got there, aside from swiping his CIA ID card in order to gain access to the facility. Well, that’s what he would have liked to do but, he knew the Covenant watching him was a very likely possibility so he had to stay in character. But working to his advantage was the knowledge of how this facility worked security systems and all. Working to his disadvantage was his assignment of sealing something from the CIA to give to the enemy, something the CIA would obviously not be fond of but he managed to talk himself into the fact that one way or another, he would steal it back and return it to the CIA. So, he boarded a flight back to America and was actually rather thankful about it.

In the dead of the night Vaughn approached the storage facility, carefully infiltrating at the time of the guard’s shift change. He made his way back through the narrow, winding corridors until he reached the lockdown area he was searching for. He recovered the vial of serum that the Covenant wanted and was just about to safely exit the building free and clear when he came face to face with Agent Eric Weiss, his very best friend in the whole world, who had a gun trained on his face.

“Shit, man.” Eric groaned as he lowered his weapon. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing? Deep cover remember?” Vaughn said.

“Right.” Eric sighed.

“Look do me a favor and tell them I’d better get more than a pizza box next time, ok?” He told his friend.

“You got it, be safe man and get out of here.” Eric said.

“Thanks.” Vaughn said as he jogged out of the building and disappeared into the darkness of night.

Vaughn had met Eric Weiss during his sophomore year at James Madison University. Eric was also a sophomore and they became best friends immediately. They roomed together their last two years in school and when Vaughn had explained to Eric that he was going to join the CIA Eric decided to as well. Actually in the words of Eric it was more like “We get to carry guns?! Sweet! I’m in.” They went through training together and once they became active field agents out of the DC branch they were partners. They even lived together briefly until Eric’s ‘bachelor of forever’ status became too irritating for Vaughn so he moved in order to maintain their close friendship.

He and Eric had been through every one of their missions together. They had helped the other out when one of them had gotten hurt and they always had each other’s backs. Truthfully, Vaughn missed his best friend. But he had to believe that what he was doing had greater importance, that it was somehow a means to an end and that someway, what he was doing would save the life of at least one CIA agent. And if it had to be only one, Vaughn knew exactly which he would pick.



Chapter 5

“Good work LaFont, this will be put to very good use.” Sophia smiled at him as she took the case he had given her and handed it off to one of her associates who immediately disappeared out of the room with it. “You have been very good to us over this past month, I must admit, I am a little surprised.”

“You are?” Vaughn asked.

“Yes, I thought you were too young to be worth much of anything. But I will gladly admit that I was wrong in that assumption.” She told him.

“Thank you for that.” He said with a slight nod.

“Of course. Now if you’ll come with me I’m hoping that you could help us with a little problem that we’re having.” Sophia said as she turned and exited the room with Vaughn closely behind her.

“Oh?”

“Yes well that Agent you helped us interrogate a month ago, she’s proving to be more trouble than she’s worth. Well, almost.” Sophia added with a slight smile. “I was hoping that you could maybe use your expertise.”

“Absolutely.” Vaughn said, trying to use his cool LaFont exterior while inside he was horrified at the idea of having to harm Sydney Bristow. “What would you like to know?”

“About the Circumference.” Sophia told him.

“The circumference?” He repeated while mentally scanning the catalogues in his mind for information on such an item but finding none.

“Yes.” She said. Then she let Vaughn into the room where Sydney was waiting. When Vaughn saw her, he nearly gasped. He hadn’t known her back in her glory days so it was impossible for him to compare her physical appearance from then to now, but he had seen her only a month earlier and comparatively she looked bad. Her hair was now even more matted and unkempt. More burses and permanent scars marred the skin on her face. She was pale and boney. Her eyes were sunken underneath deep, black circles that somehow made her chocolate brown eyes appear bigger and wider so that they almost took up half her face. It was all he could see when he looked at her, those eyes flooded with pain, agony and just… despair.

“So,” he began as he cleared his throat. “We meet again Sydney.” Dully she looked over to him, but she didn’t say a word. “So, how about you and I have a little chat.” Vaughn said as he sat down in the chair across from her. “What can you tell me about the circumference?”

Sydney blinked a few times. She thought back deep in her memory but nothing named ‘the circumference’ or ‘circumference’ rang any bells. Not that she would have told if she knew but, she would have considered it. She said nothing.

He let that sit for a few minutes, begging her just to say something, but she didn’t. Then, very regretfully, he stood, walked around behind her and twisted her shoulder. She winced and grunted slightly in agony but she did not speak. He held it to the point right before it would snap out of the socket and then asked her again. “What do you know about the circumference?” This time there was a little more force in his voice. She didn’t speak so though his heart broke he snapped her shoulder out and she wailed in pain as she went limp in the chair.

Vaughn felt utterly sick. What had he done to this beautiful creature before him? She was crumpled on the floor, clutching her now dislocated arm in agony. He had to do something so he did the only thing he could think of that would help her in the long run: putting her shoulder back in place. He had done this once before to Eric (who had tried to kill him afterwards). He knew it would hurt badly but there was no other choice. Leaving the arm the way it was would be worse. So he grabbed her arm and with one swift motion pulled it up and it snapped back into place.

Sydney screamed again and began to cry as she backed away from him. He picked her up, noticing that she was incredibly light for her height, and tossed her back into the chair from which she had fallen. Then he neared his face so close to hers that their noses almost touched and he whispered. “I’m sorry.” She looked up at him for a moment before he slapped her across the face with the back of his hand. “Tell me about the Circumference.” He demanded.

“I don’t know.” She choked as she tenderly touched her now bleeding lip with her finger tips. “I don’t.”

“Well maybe we should let you think about it for a few days.” He spat as he turned and walked from the room, coming face to face with Sophia in the hallway.

“Interesting.” She said coolly.

“What?” He asked.

“The way you put her shoulder back in after you popped it out.” She said.

Vaughn’s heart leapt within his chest but he thanked god that he was quick on his feet. “Yes well it’s a little trick I learned along the way. Putting it back like that is much more painful than the way a doctor would do it. Plus the quick in and out is a more traumatic shock to the body.”

“Very good.” She nodded. “Well, you have a good night Mr. LaFont.”

“Same to you.” He said with a small smile before turning to leave.

Unfortunately for Vaughn, he had a chauffeured car to his apartment so he had to contain his freaking out for an extra twenty minutes. Once safe inside his place, he rushed for to the bathroom, cranked on the shower, stripped and got inside. He let the hot water rush over his face as he breathed the steam in deep and exhaled fully. He just stood there in the shower spray, his hands resting up against the tile shower walls for a solid fifteen minutes letting his pervious actions wash over him. Unfortunately, they didn’t roll away as easily as the water did down the drain.

Finally the water turned cold and Vaughn turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and stepped out. He wiped some fog off the mirror and stared deep into the eyes of the man he had become. He hated himself.

~*~

Upon being retuned to her dark cell, the throbbing pain in her shoulder was nothing compared to the way Sydney’s mind was spinning. There was something about that man that got to her. She loathed him for his mistreatment of her arm and face but his apology totally caught her off guard. Even more shocking to her was the fact that he almost sounded convincingly sincere. But no, she told herself. It was merely another manipulation. Building faulty trust only to rip it out from underneath you the second you let your guard down. That was how they worked; all of them and this man was certainly no different. That was what her mind said; her heart, however, it wasn’t so sure.



Chapter 6

With each passing day, Vaughn felt as though he was breaking down more and more. His position was taking a larger emotional toll on him than he had thought possible. Being Pierre LaFont was by far the hardest thing he had ever done. Each of his journal entries became increasingly full of despair and uncertainty. He hated beating people; that wasn’t him. To make matters even worse, he had been ordered by Sophia to kill two men which he had carried out much to his deep personal regret. Still, he was in deeper than he ever thought he could be meaning that the only way out of that situation would be death or a drastic change with in the organization (the first being the most likely of the two). Needless to say, that discover did not help Vaughn’s mood.

Even more disheartening was the CIA’s involvement or rather lack of involvement in his situation. He had only received a few communications from them and all of them were more or less saying that yes they had received his communications and they were ‘monitoring the situation’. This frustrated Vaughn to no end. He wasn’t sure how to convey to them that he couldn’t keep up his LaFont façade for much longer without coming right out and saying just that. He was nearing the point where he was willing to admit that openly, but the overwhelming fear that he would be killed if he tried to leave combined with his desire to survive past his thirtieth birthday prevented him from quitting all together.

Another one of the reasons he was staying was Sydney. He couldn’t explain it, not even if he wanted to, but for some unknown reason he was drawn to her and he had in his mind the idea that it was his job to save her. No one else’s but his. The CIA clearly didn’t care for her at all. Vaughn even thought briefly that they were getting back at her for resigning in her prime but he pushed that thought out of his mind, hoping and praying that the CIA wouldn’t be that childish or careless with an Agent’s, whether she be active or former, life. He offered to help them extract her but all of his plans were shot down by reason that they were ‘too dangerous’ or ‘too risky’. So, just like him, she was trapped.

Vaughn’s thirtieth birthday was one he would certainly never forget, and not in the good way. He woke up feeling just as depressed and lost as ever and not only because of his current situation but because he was thirty and just as single as he ever was. During his shower he made himself feel slightly better when he remembered Eric’s thirtieth birthday the year before when he had gotten drunk and arrested for various offenses least of which was hitting on the female officer who was trying to arrest him. Then, like he had been instructed the previous day, he went to see Sophia. The fact that she appeared almost giddy unnerved Vaughn greatly.

“Pierre, wonderful, I’m so glad you are here. We can get started.” She said with a tiny little clap of her hands.

“Started on what?” Vaughn asked, trying to keep his cover and not laugh at this woman’s strange and out of character behavior.

“Do you remember that vial of serum you stole from the CIA?” She asked. Vaughn nodded. “Well we have modified it and I believe it will be a wonderful new tool for us to use. Come with me, we’re about to start the first test case now and you must see it.” She said as she locked her arm around his and pulled him out of her office.

Vaughn was stunned and rather disturbed by the fact that she was touching him but he went along anyway. “What kind of tool exactly is this?” He asked, dreading the answer.

“You will see.” She said.

Vaughn followed her into a room down a dark corridor he had never been before. Immediately after entering the room, he had a dreadful, sick feeling in his stomach. This room was different somehow with all the others. It had an aura of pain and suffering that was almost palpable. This room, like all the others, was windowless and dimly lit by only a few overhead lamps. In the center was a chair that closely resembled one that could be found in a dentist’s office except harsher with restraints on the arm rests and the places where the feet would be. Beside it there was a large bag that appeared to be an IV hanging from a metal pole. The room was dank and Vaughn shuttered as he though he hear a rat or perhaps a mouse scampering across the cold, cement floor.

The door swung open and two guards came in caring the limp figure of Sydney. Vaughn swallowed the immense lump in his throat that had been formed by utter dread. It had been almost a month since he had last seen her and she clearly wasn’t fairing any better (not that he had expected her to be). The men strapped her down to the chair and then walked towards the door where a man in a white lab coat was now standing.

“Monsieur LaFont this is Doctor Oleg.” Sophia said. Vaughn nodded slightly in the direction of the doctor while trying to calm down the rapid pace of his heart, convinced that eventually Sophia would be able to hear it humming in his chest and his cover would be blown. “Are you ready Doctor?” Sophia asked.

“I am.” Oleg said. Vaughn watched as Oleg walked over to Sydney and hooked up heart monitors to her chest and brain wave monitors to each of her temples. Then finally he attacked the IV into the crook of her right elbow and the scene was set. Vaughn could have in no way prepared himself for what he was about to see. At one point he nearly lost it, but somehow, he would never know how, he was able to keep it together.

It started out slow. Her right hand began to twitch, then her whole arm, both arms and finally her whole body was seizing violently. It stopped suddenly and she was still for a moment before it started up again. This continued for five times more times and Oleg appeared to be controlling it with a smirk on his face. Sydney screamed in agony and sobbed and choked during the times she was not seizing. Finally, on the fifth stop she didn’t move at all. Vaughn was horrified.

“Do you see now LaFont?” Sophia asked, triumph on her face.

“It is...” He began, his voice hoarse. “A method of educing seizures?”

“Yes, but no.” She said. “It also causes excruciating pain with lasting effects.”

“Ah.” Vaughn nodded, fighting to keep his breakfast down by that point.

“Come with me, I’ll show you our chemical facility and how we manufacture this. It really is quiet interesting.” Sophia said as she beckoned for Vaughn to follow her. He looked back once and saw Sydney’s lifeless frame and Oleg looking at a heart monitor and then he turned and followed Sophia.

The entire tour of the chemical facility, Vaughn fought to pay attention. He knew he should have been taking it all in so he could relay all that he had gained to the CIA but it was difficult since he was divided. Physically he was there, walking slowly behind Sophia as she explained the difference chemicals to him but his heart and soul were back in that room with Sydney. If he hadn’t seen the sharp spikes and dips of the heart monitor, he would have been convened she was dead for he had nearly died just watching her suffer.

Finally, the conclusion of their tour was returning to the room where Sydney had been torched. Vaughn found that she was still there.

“What did you find Oleg?” Sophia asked.

“The lasting effects appear to be three to four hours.” He told her.

“I suppose that will have to be satisfactory.” She said and then she glanced over to Sydney. “We’re done with her for now. Have someone take her back to her cell.

“I’ll do it.” Vaughn blurted out. The words had left his mouth before he realized what happened. Stupid, stupid moron, he scolded himself. Sophia looked at him in surprise. “I mean... whatever.” He added casually. Way to get yourself killed Vaughn, he groaned in his mind.

“Very well.” Sophia said suspiciously.

Vaughn walked over to Sydney and loosened the restraints on her arms and feet while Oleg removed the heart and brain monitors. Vaughn scooped Sydney up in his arms and held her tightly as Sophia directed the way towards her cell. In that moment, Vaughn wanted nothing more than to take her back to his apartment, clean up her cuts and tell her that everything would be alright. He wanted to promise her that he was there to help her; to save her. But, he couldn’t do that.

All he could do was look down at her in his arms as he carried her. Her body was covered in sweat and she hung practically dead in his arms which made carrying her slightly difficult since she was very tall with long limbs. When they were only about twenty feet from her cell she began to stir and naturally gripped his neck with one of her arms. She began to mumble but Vaughn couldn’t understand what she was saying.

He stepped inside her cell and bent down as he gently lowered her to the floor but she didn’t let go, she held on. “Please.” She croaked. “Let me die...”

In that moment, Vaughn’s heart shattered. He could have said a million things. He could have told her the truth. He could have told her it would be ok. He could have told her that he was so sorry, sorrier than he ever thought he could be. But with Sophia standing right outside the door he could say nothing. Instead, he did the only relatively safe think he could think of. As he lowered her to the ground he pressed a soft kiss into her forehead and then he turned and walked away, flinching as the metal door slammed shut behind him.



Chapter 7

Vaughn couldn’t even make it through the two hour discussion with Sophia on how to best use their new torture device. He claimed he was ill, which wasn’t exactly a claim but more the utter truth. She questioned him but he shook it off as something he ate for dinner the night before and then she let him go.

The whole ride home he was fighting with his emotions but he managed to keep it together. The moment he got in his apartment, however, he rushed to his bed, laid flat on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow and he cried.

Like most men, he usually viewed crying as a weakness and therefore did it very rarely. But something about Sydney affected him like no other and he just couldn’t help himself. He cried because seeing her in pain hurt him too. He cried because he was trapped with no way out and so was she and he cried because it was the worst birthday he had ever had.

He only cried for about fifteen minutes before he stopped and just laid there with his head crammed down in his now moist pillow, trying to suffocate himself. He was thinking through all the dark times in his life and how he made it through them. As he thought back through his father’s death, his mother’s illness, and the deaths of fellow agent friends, he realized that what got him through was determination and focus on something very important to him.

That’s when he decided. No matter what it took, even if he had to give his own life, he would get Sydney out. No matter what. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way; no one did. She was suffering greatly and honestly he wasn’t sure how much longer she would last if she was actually begging for death. That’s what disturbed him the most. He had to do something, quickly.

He got off his bed, grabbed his journal and disappeared into the bathroom with it. Then, he began to write.

November 27, 2005

I know I say this a lot lately but this is truly the hardest thing I’ve had to do and I’m not sure how I can continue it. Today, I turn thirty years old. I never expected this day to be an overly happy occasion considering I basically am my job and I have no romantic prospects what so ever, but I could have never thought today would turn out this bad.

Today I watched an amazing woman, a strong woman, a strong agent, tortured to the point where she asked me for death. That shook me, bad. I don’t know how I’m going to do it but somehow I have to save her and its going to start right now. This woman has quickly become and obsession of mine and I can’t explain it. I know her by reputation only and I’ve only been in the same room as her for a collective hour over three different time periods but there is just something about her that’s gotten under my skin and I can’t get it out; I don’t want it out. I need to help her. So I will.

After locking up his journal and returning it to its hiding place, Vaughn pulled another plain paper back out of his desk and returned to the bathroom once more.

Agent Bristow is suffering. There was a vial of serum taken from the CIA. I don’t know what it was but the covenant used it to manufacture some kind of torture medication. It causes excruciating pain and seizures with lasting effects to its victims. They’re using Agent Bristow as a test case. I’m concerned for her safety. Something needs to be done.

Then he folded the bag up and stuffed in his pocket before leaving for downtown Paris immediately.

~*~

For some reason, Sydney didn’t know why, but she felt slightly comforted after being put back in her cell. There was something different.

The pain she had felt was indescribable. It felt like her whole body was going to explode, that was why she wished for death. She was thankful that finally she passed out so she didn’t have to endure anymore. But, when she woke up, something was different. She was being carried back to her cell, that wasn’t different, but it was the way she was being carried. Every other time she had been dragged by one of her limbs along the ground and then thrown into the cell as if she was a rag doll but this.... this was different. Someone had cradled her, not carried but cradled her close and laid her down gently. The thing that unnerved her the most though, was the fact that she had felt him kiss her head right before he walked away.

It should have creeped her out beyond words but for some reason it didn’t. For some reason it made her feel comforted. The logical part of her brain told her that he was probably just some horrible, awful person trying to get to her or worse, rape her, but her heart believed differently.

For some reason, completely against her logical mind, her heart wanted to trust this strange, green eyed, Frenchmen, she only wished for a better explanation as to why.



Chapter 8

By the time January came around, Vaughn was livid. The CIA’s firm stance was that agent Bristow’s extraction was far too dangerous to carry out but yet with each passing day, Vaughn knew Sydney was getting weaker and it was almost to the point where it was too dangerous not to extract her.

His paper bag communications with the CIA had practically become daily by that point. He knew it was a stupid risk to take but for her, he was willing. He had only seen her once more since his birthday and unfortunately it was to watch another torture session. He had gotten to the point where if he had to see that one more time he was going to grab her and run for it. The only thing stopping him was that he knew he could never out run the bullets that would inevitably be trailing after them.

One snowy day in mid-January, Vaughn received a very peculiar telegram. Urgent. 4 pm. Eiffel Tower. Sydney. Vaughn was immediately intrigued. First, he wondered if the Eiffel Tower would even be open considering the state of the weather. Second, he wondered who exactly it was contacting him. Surely it couldn’t be someone from the CIA since he wasn’t allowed to see anyone from there but since the telegram had specifically mentioned Sydney, his curiosity was peaked and he had to go.

Vaughn bundled himself up in sweats along with an extra jacket as he made his way down the streets of Paris. The wind was blowing fiercely and the exposed skin on his nose was stinging painfully but he trudged on towards the Tower. When he arrived he was still convinced it was closed. There was a guard standing by the entrance who saw him coming and strangely enough, let him inside.

This caused a twinge in Vaughn’s gut. Something about this was off; something about this was dangerous, but he went anyway. When Vaughn reached the first level he saw a tall man with salt and pepper hair waiting under an overhang. He stepped off the elevator and approached the man cautiously.

“Agent Vaughn.” The man said. His aura was stern and stoic but yet Vaughn could see worry in his eyes.

“Yes?” He asked cautiously.

“Jack Bristow.” He said as he extended his hand.

Vaughn shook it with a slight sigh of relief. “Sydney’s father.” He exhaled. Jack nodded. “But sir... this is dangerous, I’m in deep cover.” He said to the older man.

“I know that. The CIA doesn’t know I’m here but this is too important to wait.” Jack said. Vaughn looked at him curiously. “The CIA has been keeping me up to date with your communications about my daughter but I needed to come and ask you in person. How is she?” He asked, a tone of utter concern clear in his voice.

“Honestly sir, she’s not good at all.” Vaughn said. “She’s barely surviving. She truly is an amazing woman to have made it this far but I fear she’s loosing hope. She... she keeps asking to die.” He added in a small voice. Then he watched as Jack sighed heavily and looked away for a moment, almost trying to regain his composure. “I want to help her, sir. I’ve been trying but...”

“I know.” Jack sighed. “It appears the CIA doesn’t value my daughter’s life as much as I had hoped. I only wish I knew why.”

“I’m sorry.” Vaughn said as he looked to his feet. Then there was a moment of awkward silence between them.

“I knew your father.” Jack said. Vaughn’s head snapped up at this. “He was a very good man.”

“Thank you.” Vaughn said.

“He had an impeccable reputation and it would appear you are well on your way to that.” Jack said.

“Well... I don’t know about that sir.” Vaughn sighed.

“If you help my daughter, you will be.” Jack told him.

Vaughn smiled softly. “I don’t want to help Sydney for myself, sir. I just want to help her.”

“That is good to hear because.... I have a request. I realize the dangers in it so I would be willing to accept you turning it down.” Jack said. Vaughn raised his eyebrow in curiosity. “My daughter has been through quite a lot of pain in her short life and I’m afraid that part of that is my fault, much to my deep regret. She needs something to believe in and I’m hoping that maybe you can give it to her.” Jack said.

Vaughn was slightly shocked at this admission. He had barely known this man for five minutes but immediately he gathered that Jack Bristow wasn’t one to normally speak this way. He also found it surprising that this man was willing to trust him so easily. “I’ll do anything I can.” Vaughn said finally.

Jack pulled from his pocket what appeared to be a quarter. Upon closer examination it was a quarter. Vaughn looked confused. “This is a bug killer. There is a little notch around the edge different from all the others. Push it and you’ll have ninety seconds. Show this to my daughter, press the button and tell her who you are. Then tell her that I gave it to you and that we talked about her mother by the carousel in the park.”

“The carousel in the park?” Vaughn repeated curiously.

Jack nodded. “She’ll understand.”

“Alright.” Vaughn said as he took the bug killer and slipped it in his pocket.

“Thank you Agent Vaughn.” Jack said with sincerity.

“You’re welcome Agent Bristow, it’s the least I can do.” Vaughn told him.

Jack nodded. “Good luck with the rest of your mission.”

“Thank you.” Vaughn said as he turned and made his way back down the elevator.



Chapter 9

Vaughn held onto that coin everywhere he went for two weeks. He found himself constantly fingering it in his pockets every time he was alone with Sophia or Cole, as if it would give him motivation some how. He was wracking his brain trying to think of an excuse to see Sydney but then he decided that because of the nature of his visit it would be much less suspicious if Sophia or Cole approached him with the idea. The other problem he was having was trying to find a subtle way to show Sydney the bug and explain to her what he needed. He had come up with a few ideas; none of them were rather appealing to him considering that he was supposed to be building trust with this poor woman.

Finally, sixteen days after he had received the coin from Jack, Vaughn got his break. It appeared that fate, which had been so unusually cruel to this woman, decided to take a turn from the better. Sophia and Cole were openly discussing the ‘Sydney situation’ in front of him and he jumped at the first opportunity.

“It’s not going fast enough.” Cole hissed. “She should have broken by now!”

“Patience.” Sophia hissed.

Cole spat. “You’re one to speak of patience.”

“For this I will have patience.” She said. “She’s only been in the lighted chamber for a week, give it time.”

The lighted chamber. Vaughn rolled his eyes at this. They made it sound intriguing instead of what it really was. A pure white painted room with lamps everywhere that were turned on brilliantly bright for twenty four hours a day. It was meant to make it impossible for the person to sleep and thus driving them insane faster. But it seemed Sydney still wasn’t submitting to them which made Vaughn secretly proud. “Let me try.” He interjected. Sophia and Cole looked at him curiously. “Ten minutes with her, that’s all I’ll need.”

“Ten minutes? What the hell can you do in ten minutes?” Cole asked.

“Well now I don’t see you sitting here revealing all your secrets do I?” Vaughn said, matching Cole’s cocky tone. Cole looked away.

“Well I don’t see that it could hurt.” Sophia said with a nod of approval.

As Vaughn was walking down the hallway towards Sydney he was practically shaking from nerves. He hated himself for what he was about to do but he knew in the end it would help her. That was the only way he could talk himself into it, for the thought of causing her even more pain broke his heart. He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it on the floor outside her cell before the guard unlocked it.

The room was shockingly bright and it took Vaughn’s eyes a moment to adjust before he stepped inside and heard the door lock behind him. The room was only about eight feet long by five feet white. The lights made the room swelteringly hot and Sydney sat in the middle of the floor, head resting on her knees which where tucked up to her chest, wearing a tank top and long drawstring pants that she had rolled up.

When he stepped inside she looked up wearily. Vaughn took a deep breath, preparing for the show he was about to put on. “Get up.” He commanded. She didn’t move. “I said get up!” He said more harshly. She didn’t move. He roughly grabbed her arms, dragged her to her feet and slammed her up against the wall, his hand clutched around her throat. She coughed as she looked at him. He stared directly into her eyes and tried to convey a ‘trust me’ message but the fact that his fingers were cutting off her oxygen supply didn’t exactly help that message.

In one swift motion he threw her from the wall and down to the ground where she curled up and began to choke. He pounced on her, pinning her down to the ground with his body and holding her hands tightly above her head. The look in her eyes was utter terror filled with horror and tears. That killed Vaughn. He reached down and pulled from his pocket the bug killer, holding it up between them where she could see and pressing his finger into the groove. There was a quiet beep.

“You have to listen to me. My name is Michael Vaughn I work for the CIA. I’m a double agent here.” He said. Her eyes widened in half shock and half confusion. “Your father gave me this coin which is a bug killer. He said he talked to you about your mother by the carousel in the park. I’m sorry about this but you’re going to have to trust me. We’re going to get you out of here Agent Bristow, I promise you that.” He sighed. He knew his time was running out but she still looked as frozen as ever.

“Please, blink if you understand me.” She didn’t move for a moment but then she blinked. “Good now kick me off.” He told her. She looked curious. “Do it.” He said as he heard the coin beep once more signaling that their time was up. Sydney took that opportunity to kick him off and he flew off of her, both of them scrambling to their feet. Then Vaughn walked over to her and punched her squarely in the jaw, sending her sprawling onto the floor.

“Until we meet again.” He whispered before stalking out of the room, rubbing the bruise on his thigh. Walking back to Sophia’s office Vaughn was met by Cole who had apparently been watching Sydney’s room on a security monitor.

“Well I could have done that.” He said in a self-righteous tone.

“Yeah and look what good it would have done you.” Vaughn winced purposely as he walked slower.

“She is a feisty one, that one, but I like them feisty.” Cole said.

Vaughn resisted the urge to punch Cole like he had done to Sydney as he walked past him and then out of the building. He was satisfied. Sydney knew the truth and hopefully that would get her through another day.



Chapter 10

When LaFont, Vaughn or whatever his name was left her, Sydney was more confused than ever. She truly didn’t know what to believe anymore. So she began to have a logical discussion about it with herself in her head.

Okay, so let me assume for one second that he really is an Agent. Vaughn he said his name was. I’ve heard that name... yes, Dad mentioned an agent named Vaughn from back in the day. Maybe it was his father. Ok so assuming he works for the CIA that could make sense.... He’s always been strange compared to the others... his eyes were kind and gentle. He did apologize for hitting me that one time.... and he kissed my forehead too. And he had that bug killer... its Dad’s I recognized it. And he said.... what did he say? We talked about mom by the carousel. That’s true, we did. Just a few years ago, he took me there and we talked about her.

But... but all of that could have been a lie right? What if they have Dad too? What if they forced him to give up this information? What if that man is just trying to manipulate me? What if Vaughn didn’t have a son but he’s pretending to be that son! He’s hurt me like all the rest of them. He’s just messing with my mind like the rest of them. Yes.... maybe....

In the end she decided it came down to what she wanted to believe. She wanted to believe that there was hope for her. She wanted to believe in something, anything that could get her a way out. She wanted to believe that her father and the CIA were working to get her out. So she decided to believe that he was telling the truth. He was CIA officer Michael Vaughn, man with a fake French accent and amazing green eyes. She wanted to believe those things but more than anything she needed to believe them.

In the time since they had started using their new form of torture on her, Sydney had lost faith in everything really. She had almost given up all together, convinced that she could survive no longer. But this... this could give her the strength to make it just one more day. She would trust him, but tentatively. She would believe in the truth behind those emerald eyes. After all, if he was who he said, he had taken a great risk at revealing himself to her. And that alone was worth consideration.

~*~

“Thank you for coming in LaFont.” Sophia said.

“Of course, what was so urgent?” He asked.

“The girl finally broke.” Cole said in triumph.

“What?” Vaughn almost choked. He had been away for three weeks on a mission doing the bidding of Sophia and when he returned this. Surely not. Surely Sydney didn’t break. She had fought so long; six and a half months to be exact. Why give up now? Then he panicked. What if it was what he had said to her?

“Yes we started the rehabilitation process two weeks ago and its going well. She’s beginning to think she’s Julia Thorne.” Cole said.

“Really?” Vaughn practically choked. “Who is that?”

“Well she’ll be our new operative. An assassin.” Sophia explained. “It is really quite remarkable. Come have a look.”

Vaughn followed them in utter horror. He didn’t want to see this; he couldn’t loose hope like this. It would destroy him. Not being able to save her would kill him. They stopped in front of a room that was much like their infamous interrogation room but it was brighter. Sydney sat at the table reading through a file. Her hair had been washed and highlighted with blonde. She was wearing clean clothes and her skin appeared to be a slightly more healthy shade of pink. Vaughn felt sick.

“Julia.” Sophia said cheerfully as she walked into the room. Sydney looked up immediately.

“Yes?” She said.

“I’d like you to meet one of our associates. This is Pierre LaFont.” Sophia said.

“Bonjour Pierre.” Sydney smiled at him. “I am Julia.”

Vaughn couldn’t even move. She had become stiff and almost robotic. “Bonjour.” He muttered quietly, feeling quite sick.

“We’ll let you get back to your reading Julia I just wanted you to meet.” Sophia said. Vaughn was just about to follow her out but for a moment he caught something in Sydney’s eyes and he looked back at her. He didn’t know how but he understood what she was saying. She was saying she was ok. Her eyes that had been full of pain and fear for so long were almost full of peace. He nodded ever so softly and then tuned to follow Sophia back out of the room.

“As you can see.” Sophia began. “She believes she is Julia. At the rate we are going she should be fully converted within a few weeks.”

“Wow.” Vaughn said, not really knowing what else to say.

~*~

That day couldn’t have been over fast enough for Vaughn. He rushed back to his apartment, pulled out a paper bag and rushed to the bathroom with it.

The Covenant is brainwashing Sydney into believing that she is their new operative named Julia Thorne. Julia is to become their newest asset; an assassin. I’m not sure if the brainwashing is working or not. I can’t tell.

They had to listen this time. They just had to.

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Chapters 11-20