Lullaby
Alias; PG. Written days before 5.01 [No Spoilers for S5], Vaughn is dead, due to the car crash. Sydney discovers who is behind it and sets out to finish the person who is responsible off, no matter what the consequences are.
Sydney’s eyes smarted and she gasped as all the air in her lungs left her. The blows had been too much. She knew, however, that they would be the last ones Arvin Sloane ever made. Straining her exhausted muscles, she raised her gun.
A final shot echoed in the night. The battle was over.
- Three Days Earlier -
Sydney laughed and pinched Celina’s nose. “You are a silly girl!” she trilled, making the two-year-old squeal with delight. “But it really is time to eat your food. No more throwing it at me.”
Celina shook her soft locks of black hair and stuck her hand in her mouth. Sydney couldn’t help but smile sadly at her niece’s comical expression. “Mommy is going to come back soon and she will want you to be well fed and rested,” Sydney sighed, resuming her attempts to feed the child. Celina shrieked and pushed the spoon away. Sydney cooed at her in a final attempt, but the little girl only let out a muffled noise of contempt. Wondering why she had even bothered trying again, she dropped the spoon on the high chair and scooped Celina up. Once her bib was covering her front again, Sydney moved out of the kitchen and into the bedroom.
Celina removed her hand from her mouth and babbled happily, waving one arm wildly about. Her room was painted in a delicate shade of pink. Slim curtains covered the windows on one side and a low cradle rested along the opposite wall. Sydney shook her head, remembering how concerned Nadia had been that Celina would fall out of the crib and break her neck. It had taken her weeks to find a cradle low enough to calm her fears.
“What should we do with you, hmm?” Sydney demanded, scanning the room. She’d already played with blocks and read Doctor Seuss books. There weren’t many other things to do. Unfortunately, Celina didn’t look like she was ready for a nap, so that option was out.
“La!” squealed Celina. “La la!” Sydney kissed her forehead lightly as an idea struck her.
“I could sing to you, I guess,” she muttered, considering Celina’s outburst.
“La!”
“All right, I’ll sing. Let’s sit you down by your stuffed animals…”
Celina grabbed the yellow cat in front of her the moment her body was resting on the ground. Sydney turned the toddler so that they were facing each other. Crossing her legs, she ran over nursery songs in her mind. She knew quite a few, after what she’d been through already.
Her voice caught in her throat at this thought, but she swallowed quickly and blinked hard to clear her vision. Celina looked expectantly up at her, her little lips parted slightly in anticipation. Sydney relaxed and chose “Ba, Ba, Black Sheep” as her first selection.
She’d only had to sing on a few occasions, and most of them were missions. After a humiliating experience in a Thanksgiving play in which she played the singing Turkey, she never felt quite the same about her voice. However, the isolation of being in a small room with a little girl made her feel comfortable, and she began singing to Celina.
Celina giggled and rocked back and forth, clutching her animal to her small form. For some reason, Sydney’s breath caught in her throat. Before she knew it, she collapsed into sobs.
The accident had been over a year ago. 13 months, to be exact. She hadn’t been to Santa Barbara since. She knew in her heart that one day she would force herself to revisit the scene of the crash, but she could not tell when. Her heart fell as if it were breaking all over again as Celina mumbled something unhappily, having noticed that Aunt Sydney wasn’t singing anymore. Sydney pulled her knees to her chest and linked her arms tightly around them. Letting her head drop, she let the tears fall.
It had been no accident. Sydney knew that now. Everything pointed in that direction. The other driver had been no where to be found when she awoke. The other car was sitting their, empty. How many drivers would get up and leave after an accident that clearly caused a lot of damage? It didn’t feel right.
It took Sydney several minutes to realize that her sobs were being matched by little Celina’s cries. Now she was hungry, or sleepy, or wet, or something. Sydney didn’t know which and didn’t think she was capable of fixing the problem anyway. Still, she forced herself to wipe her eyes and pick up her little niece.
Getting shakily to her feet, she began walking back and forth in the small, pink room. Celina continued to cry. Sydney’s breath came normally again, but tears still slid down her face. She tried, haltingly, to sing again. The words wouldn’t come.
Nadia entered the nursery to find her half sister standing in the center of the room with her back to the door, clutching the baby to her chest.
“Sydney!” she said, alarmed. “What’s wrong?”
Sydney didn’t respond, but turned around quickly and placed Celina in her mother’s arms. Nadia took her carefully, not moving her eyes from her sister’s face. Sydney slowly sat on the floor again. Nadia had never seen her looking so lost before. She sat down across from Sydney, holding Celina gently.
“Talk to me, Sydney,” she pleaded.
Sydney told her, with several breaks to gulp in air, how she felt destroyed mentally and physically since Vaughn’s death and her soon-after miscarriage. Nadia knew that she’d been experiencing these feelings, but she’d done a masterful job of hiding it until then. She looked away from her sister. She knew there was something that she needed to say, but she had convinced herself for a week not to say it. It was something she’d been hiding, but Sydney hadn’t noticed because she’d been too preoccupied with hiding her own thoughts and emotions.
“Listen, Sydney,” Nadia murmured uncomfortably. “There’s been something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’d have told you already, but you took 4 days off last week and I thought I should wait… Not that it’s unimportant, but you should know that I discovered something on my own. About Vaughn.”
Sydney immediately sat up and looked her sister directly in the eye. “Whatever it is, you should have told me right away,” she said in a low tone.
Nadia shifted her weight. “I realize that now,” she allowed. “I just thought at the time—well, at any rate, you should know that I know who killed Vaughn.”
For several long moments, there was complete silence between them. Celina was falling asleep in her mother’s lap. Nadia stood up quickly and transferred her to the crib. Sydney couldn’t move. Her body seemed immobilized by anticipation.
“Nadia, you need to tell me,” Sydney commanded.
“You have to promise me that you won’t do anything stupid,” Nadia said quickly, rearranging the blankets around Celina.
“Nadia,” Sydney repeated, less forcefully this time.
“It was my father.”
- Two Days Later -
Nadia stuck her head into Celina’s room as she passed. It had almost become habit for her. The baby was sleeping peacefully, she noted, and made for the phone in the kitchen.
Clearing her throat, she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Nadia?”
“Sydney,” she sighed in relief. “Where are you? Let me come get you-”
“You don’t need to come get me. I’m in Santa Barbara,” she replied, sounding as if somebody or something had given some of her old energy back.
“Santa Barbara?” Nadia said slowly. “What are you doing there? Sydney, if you’re planning something, please don’t,” Nadia added suddenly. “You know why I didn’t tell you that my dad killed Vaughn the second I knew? It was because I knew you’d go and do something.”
Sydney made an impatient noise. “I would have found out the truth eventually. You know that.”
“Yes, but you might have had more time to think things over more sensibly. Sydney! Arvin Sloane is my father, and I’m not about to let you kill him for something he may not have done.”
“What do you mean, may not have done?” Sydney shot back. “You told me you were almost positive.”
“Yes! Almost!” she cried exasperatedly.
“It’s good enough for me.”
Nadia rubbed her temples with her free hand. “Sydney, please let me help you. There are other ways to do this. First, we can find out if he really had a part in Vaughn’s death.”
“It sounds like a great plan, but it’s not going to work. I need to end this now,” Sydney replied. “And enlighten me—did you tell my dad?”
“No,” Nadia mumbled. “If it had been your father, would you have told mine?”
Sydney chose not to respond to this and snapped at Nadia, “Listen, I’m just calling to tell you that I’m going to work this out on my own, and I want you to tell my dad that I love him, if anything goes wrong.”
Nadia couldn’t help wondering, You love him. But what about me? Do you want me to know you love me, too?
“Goodbye, Nadia.”
Sydney turned her back to the pay phone and hugged herself tightly, willing herself to be calm. She could handle anything. She was programmed to be able to.
Taking a deep breath, she headed for the gate, not stopping to look out the window at the plane like she used to do when she was younger.
Sydney zipped up her jacket decisively and reached for her bag. Sloane would be home in approximately 30 minutes, according to her informant. She would have to be ready by then.
It was 11:04 pm when she reached Sloane’s balcony. 5 minutes later, she was pacing around his study. She attempted to calm her nerves and ignore Zurich’s skyline, which loomed beyond the balcony. She had 15 minutes to square her shoulders and prepare. Unfortunately, her steep climb had nearly drained her of all muscle and willpower.
A thought occurred to her as she sat down at his desk. If she could find proof that he had Vaughn killed then she would never have to worry about Nadia’s anger with her. Sydney began to consider this her best bet at defeating Sloane (apart from killing him), and sat quickly at his computer.
At 11:20 pm, she across a contact list and log of the most recent connection with each person. All of them were 24 months old, except for two.
One of them had contact dated one month before that day, and the other a little over 13 months. She clicked on the second date, hoping for more. Nothing happened. Sydney stared at the monitor, willing the information she needed to show itself. Nothing happened.
That had to be it. What else could it have been? The world had been relatively quiet at that time, or she and Vaughn wouldn’t have gone on a vacation.
Sydney cut the power to the computer and took up her gun, quickly assembling all its parts. Seconds later, a soft click of a key in a lock sounded throughout the silent apartment.
Sloane entered slowly, fumbling with his keys. Sydney froze with her not-quite-assembled gun in her hands. Sloane turned on the lights and walked into the study.
Sydney quickly pulled the last piece into place and raised her gun. Sloane stopped next to his desk and turned to find Sydney standing next to the door he’d just come through.
“Don’t move,” she said quietly, walking quickly to block the exit.
Sloane did not raise his arms in surrender or reach for a gun of his own. Instead, he stared unblinkingly at Sydney.
“Get on your knees. Now,” Sydney said sharply. Still, he didn’t move.
“Now!” she said loudly.
“Sydney, I know why you’re here. It’s because I murdered Michael Vaughn,” he stated.
Sydney relaxed her grip slightly. Was he about to confess? It would rid her of her lack of justification if he did.
“You did. I have evidence,” Sydney lied.
“I’m sure you do, or you wouldn’t have come,” Sloane responded, walking around his desk to sit in his chair. Sydney made no move to stop him.
“There is something you need to know before you kill me, though.” He clasped his hands together, resting them on the desk. Neither he nor Sydney broke eye contact.
“Tell me now, or I’ll end this conversation,” she said.
“Yes, I had him killed, but it didn’t happen in the way you think it did.”
“Go on.”
“Vaughn used to work for me,” Sloane began. “It started a few years after you joined SD-6. I recruited him to work as my CIA spy. Funny how things turned out, isn’t it?”
“I have no patience for your little remarks,” Sydney spat. “Get on with it, or I’ll shoot.”
“As you wish... He passed information to me, and I paid him well for it. I also gave him protection from the people he was running from, which was the main reason he worked for me for as long as he did. I gave him his identity, and he was very grateful for it. Sydney, the reason he was the person you met the day you walked into the CIA is because he was working for me. The reason he became your handler is the same. The reason he was never removed from that position for very long is the same. He was a mole, and a very good one.
“Naturally, I understood why you betrayed me, and SD-6. Jack had already done the same. But as you know, I didn’t do anything about it. I didn’t think the CIA would interfere much unless I allowed them to, and I didn’t give them the chance for a long time.
“In any case, there came a time when Vaughn discovered that he no longer wanted to work for me. It was shortly before the time you first came face to face with your mother since your childhood. He broke contact with me and announced that he was no longer going to continue as my man in the CIA. He wasn’t quitting entirely, but was going to permanently assume the alias I’d given him. I let him go; he’d outlived his usefulness anyway.”
“And now you killed him?” Sydney spoke up, still feeling physically tired but trying her best to hide it. “Why?”
“Because he was going to give me away. But you must know that I did not order to have him killed. It was a protocol set up by somebody who worked for me. He kept tabs on all the people I’d allowed to walk away with knowledge of my secrets. Vaughn was one of these people. The moment my man thought that Vaughn might reveal something, he moved in without alerting me and killed him.”
“That’s it?” Sydney asked. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It's the truth, Sydney,” Sloane said, looking her in the eye once more. “And I’m hoping you’ll believe me.”
Sydney raised the gun again, though her arms screamed in protest. She felt completely drained, but held herself together. “I don’t.”
Sloane looked away. “Then I’m sorry.”
Before she knew what was happening, Sloane pulled a gun out from under his chair and fired twice.
Sydney’s eyes smarted and she gasped as all the air in her lungs left her. The blows had been too much. She knew, however, that they would be the last ones Arvin Sloane ever made. Straining her exhausted muscles, she raised her gun.
A final shot echoed in the night. The battle was over.
Sydney allowed herself to collapse, having successfully hit her target: the one target she’d been waiting to hit for years.
The End.
Step Back
