secretlives
Cadet
A/N: 1) This piece of fiction is Sydney/Vaughn predominantly, with dashes of Jack/Irina and Nadia/Weiss. Be warned, however, that hardly anybody is together with the person they love all the time. I would appreciate lots of constructive criticism, but if you feel you'd be too harsh on a public forum, feel free to PM me, or send an email my way at hiddenalias@gmail.com ! =)
2) Timelines are erratic, so the dates and times of the parallel situations are written at the top of each transition. It should be self-explanatory, but the way I'm writing it is that Vaughn's situation is happening a week or so after the Sydney scenes.
3) If anybody can spot any literary machinations in the story (and there are loads, really!) please, please, please try and list them out! I'm really interested to see if anybody could pick any out
4) I'll be sending out PMs to everybody who requested one on all my other stories: Where We Were At, Aria, "You're Glowing!", Crisis Management and One Knee In Sawdust, so if you want out of the list, please tell me!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just the warped storyline and even that is inspired by a lot of speculations about Vaughn.
Spoilers: Just speculation about season 5. Lots and lots of speculation.
Rating: PG-13. May or may not stay at that.
Ships: Sydney/Vaughn, Jack/Irina
STACCATO
By Jalyn/secretlives
Copyright 2005
Staccato: Marked by or composed of abrupt, disconnected parts
28th June, 17:09, Santa Barbara
She peeled open her eyes.
Darkness.
She closed and opened them again frantically.
Still dark.
The last thing she remembered terrified her, but in her present state, trepidation struck her heart, again and again.
Where am I? Am I dead? What happened? Did Vaughn-
She broke out in cold sweat.
Vaughn.
Vaughn.
Vaughn.
His name rang continuously in her mind and she felt her heart pounding, the sweat trickling from her forehead; her neck; down her back. She trembled, convulsions rocking her body.
“Well, for starters, my name isn’t Michael Vaughn.”
She remembered staring at him in horror. She remembered the sickening, crunching sound. She remembered the darkness, the taste of fear, but she could not remember what happened.
Moments later she heard footsteps, then the sound of the door opening and felt a presence in wherever she was at.
“Who’s that?” Her voice was shaky, her breaths an unsteady staccato rhythm.
“I’m your nurse, Miss.”
“Where am I?”
“In a hospital in Santa Barbara. You were involved in a car crash,” the nurse replied and tinkered with some metal trays. She gasped silently. Santa Barbara. Car crash. And? Why?
“Why can’t I see anything?” she mumbled, slowly and uncertainly.
“When you crashed, your optical nerves were strained,” a new voice spoke out, causing her to draw a sharp intake of breath again. “I’m Dr. Keller,” the new addition in the room reassured her.
“What about the driver? My… fiancé?” she choked out. There was a moment of discomforting silence.
“There was no one else. We only found you.”
6th July, 16:24, unknown
As he tried to shift himself from the numbing sitting position he was in, an acute pain shot through his right leg. He grimaced, and tried to stop himself from projecting any sound.
Propping himself up, he heaved a barely perceptible sigh of relief when the throbbing pain subsided, if only for a little. He surveyed his surroundings: the bright, smooth white of the walls unnerved him and he frowned, the wrinkles rippling on his forehead.
Everything happened in a flash: Sydney and him, in Santa Barbara. Sydney joking about elopement – hey, he certainly wouldn’t mind it, especially if it were on a beach: he loves the beach – and the unexpected warning of Irina resurfacing in his mind.
‘You don’t want to end up like Jack and me – Tell Sydney the truth.’
In a spur of the moment he decided on a policy – a no-secrets, all-truth one with Sydney. He had to be fair, he mused, and reasoned that Sydney had a right to know everything.
‘Well, I’m a mysterious man. A lot of things you don’t know about me,’ he recalled telling her… Ah, that fateful day when she had been buried and there was nothing he could do but watch. And damn right he was, for he really did have many things she didn’t know, and mysterious he still remained. He had thought of letting her on, bit by bit, to attempt to cushion the shock.
“Hello,” a familiar voice rang up from behind him and in the door frame stood a man; his long, shaggy hair covering more than half of his face. How revolting, Vaughn thought, he hasn’t changed since I last saw him.
“How did you track me?” he asked coldly, assuming a demeanour that was unlike his usual self. If glares could kill, this unwelcome intruder to his thoughts would have to be dead by now.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters, however, is that you very nearly made the most severe mistake of your life.”
“Don’t give me this bullsh-t. Tell me where I am, and release me,” he ordered. The intruder gave a weird, long chuckle.
“Did you really think so? We’ve gone to so much pain and trouble just to get you back here, and you’re thinking we’ll let you go upon your command?”
“F-ck you,” he growled, and got on to his feet to lunge at that stupid, leering face. Big mistake that was, for his leg buckled under the weight and he collapsed to the floor along with his bruised dignity.
“Your leg is fractured in several places. So is your forearm. However, you managed to escape from the accident almost unscathed, and that I must say I’m impressed with.”
“Where’s Sydney?” he demanded, wincing at an unseen force that seemed intent on suffocating his lungs.
“Somewhere safe,” the man replied. Vaughn rolled his eyes in response.
“Of course she is. You wouldn’t want to hurt your beloved Chosen One, would you?” he sneered. Not that I would, of course, he added as an afterthought.
“Of course we wouldn’t. She’s untouched, as far as we know. She could’ve been hurt, if we hadn’t intercepted in the nick of time.”
“Bullsh-t. She’d have been hurt more if I hadn’t tried to tell her.”
The man strode across the room and crouched down to level his squinting eyes with Vaughn’s. Vaughn flinched, feeling slightly intimidated.
“Boy, listen to me –” he snarled, “she is not to know of your involvement.”
“It’s still all about you and this organisation isn’t it? Never for anybody’s safety-”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about safety. We pledge ourselves to the safety of The Chosen One-”
“Stop giving me this Rambaldi sh-t. I could take you up to my headquarters, have your organisation eliminated-”
“And risk your life and hers? No, I don’t think so. You love her too much for that. It was dictated.”
F-ck dictations. My entire life is dictated. Just like hers.
“Nothing else to say?” the man taunted and straightened up again, smoothing imaginary creases on his impeccable shirt. “The doctor will be here in a while to check up on your injuries. In the meantime, I suggest you get yourself acquainted with these walls. There’ll be a psyche evaluation-”
“Who the hell do you think you are, the CIA? Psyche evaluations?”
“You were obviously not in a right state of mind to have wanted to tell The Chosen One about your identity.”
Vaughn muttered another string of profanities vehemently. The man walked out of the room, but turned back in and addressed him again. He bore his eyes into Vaughn, and said definitively.
“That’s unacceptable behaviour, Milo.”
29th June, 14:39, Santa Barbara
She had grown accustomed to the darkness, and relied on her hearing more so than ever. What she had not grown accustomed to was the gnawing loneliness and the crippling fear. The scene replayed over and over, yet she could think of no reasonable explanation for Vaughn’s statement.
Is he French Mafia? Armata Corsa? FLNC? Is he working for the people we are fighting against? Is he in cahoots with the world’s most renowned terrorists? Is his name not Vaughn? Is he--
“Sydney,” a voice jerked her back into reality again. She gave a small smile towards him, and propped herself up on the bed – her hand on the railings as a guide.
“Dad… Thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” he said to her, and Sydney sensed him sitting down on the chair beside the bed. “There were some matters I had to settle before coming here.”
Sydney nodded.
“I heard about your condition from your doctor. He said the situation is strictly temporary.”
She nodded again and hesitated, opening her mouth then closing it again before deciding to let her father on the truth.
“Vaughn’s missing,” she told him.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked them. They said he’s missing. He wasn’t in the wreckage with me. Either he’s dead, or he staged this.”
Her voice wobbled as she rambled on, and for the third time in his life, Jack Bristow felt helpless as he watched his daughter lying on the hospital bed, defenceless and hurt by the only man in her life she had trusted.
“We’ll find him,” he assured her.
“There’s another thing…”
“What is it?”
“Before we left… I found out… I found out that…” her voice trailed off as she hesitated uncharacteristically, and Jack frowned.
“What did you find out?” he prompted. She turned away, a passing glimpse of discomfort etched on her face, and took a deep breath.
“I’m pregnant.”
I’m going to kill the man, he swore to himself, if that’s the only thing I can do for the rest of my life.
Jack Bristow walked angrily away from Sydney’s ward after being blasted by not just one, but two bombshells that she had dropped unceremoniously on him. To think that he had given that man his blessings to marry his daughter… he shook his head.
When he had heard news that this man was going to be his daughter’s handler in the agency, he had scoffed. But time and again, he had proven himself worthy not only of being her handler, but also of the forbidden fruit itself – Sydney. Still, he thought the final act that would render him worthless in front of everybody else was his marriage to Lauren, but even that did not deter Sydney from going back to him.
Irina. She’d have the answers.
“She’s here. It starts now.”
That was seven years ago.
Seven years ago he was a naïve and stupid youngling.
Seven years ago he was helpless.
Now, seven years on, he is still helpless. He lets out a sigh and still he stared at the white walls. Numerous psyche evaluations and interrogations on, and yet nothing had changed the fact that he was trapped in this maximum security building that allowed no room for escape; or at least not yet – not while he was still immobile.
“Your job is simple: You will protect her at all costs.”
“Just like that?” he questioned.
“Affirmative.”
And thus began The Guardian’s quest to protect The Chosen One.
9th July, 10:14, unknown
There are times in your life when you’re absolutely contented with what you have and the life you’re leading. You love everyone and everything else in between, and they love you back.
Unfortunately for Michael Vaughn, this was not one of those times.
He swore colourfully in his mind, but his face remained expressionless. He could sense the other man’s impatience creeping up as minutes turned to hours, and almost twenty of these hours had passed.
How much of everything had been a lie? She wondered, sitting still on her propped-up bed. The constant humming of the air-conditional unit and the smell of the peroxide of the hospital had ironically soothed her.
When the door had clicked open, she had fully expected her father’s soft but commanding voice (even loving, she decided), but instead she heard the metallic rolling of a wheelchair and her senses went into immediate overdrive.
“Who’s that?” That seemed to be the one question hung on her mouth these days.
“It’s me,” a male replied and she relaxed. It was just Eric. Then she stopped short. Just Eric? She was about to ask again when the other person spoke up.
“Sydney, it’s Nadia.”
Her heart surged.
“Nadia. My god. Are you alright now?”
There was a weight of hesitation upon the air.
“I have to be …sedated every few hours or so. The symptoms will start every now and then.” Nadia’s voice sounded strangely strained.
“Oh.” Her heart sank once more. Will my heart sink and stop entirely one fine day? She mused, for that was the feeling of emptiness and all she could feel (and all she could see, albeit temporarily) was pure darkness. No flicker of light, no glimmer, no spark.
“I wanted to come over… to see how you are,” Nadia’s voice reverberated through the room. Sydney noted the edge of apprehension in her voice but nodded anyway. She shot a smile in their general direction.
“I’m fine,” she lied, “I presume you’ve heard about what happened from my dad.”
Again that note of hesitation.
“We heard about Vaughn,” Weiss confirmed and she scoffed inwardly. Not-Vaughn is more like it.
“Was that all he said?” she asked, her left hand sub-consciously wrapping itself across her abdomen. She heard him cough before answering.
“That was all. When he got back to the office, he made a beeline route to Marshall, then rounded us up to let us know. About the crash.”
She nodded again but Nadia detected a deeper story. Sydney heard some hushed whispers exchanged but made no attempt to snoop. She felt Weiss stand up and walk out through the door. Nadia placed her hand on Sydney’s right.
“Is there something I should know?”
“I –” Sydney paused, the words not flowing like it did for her father. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Sydney, I’m your sister. You can tell me anything.”
I’m sorry, Nadia, I can’t trust anyone else right now, she thought, hot tears springing and pulsating underneath her eyelids. Gratefully, she heard the door click open and it was Dr. Keller and her scheduled daily check up. After squeezing Nadia’s hand and thanking them both for visiting her, her mind wandered into dark oblivion again.
“Are you an operative of the CIA?”
He clamped his mouth shut, like the past three days held in captive. I’ll be damned if I ever answer anything. The interrogator made a mark on the piece of paper, drew a sharp intake of breath and rattled on again.
“How long have you been an operative of the CIA?”
“Have you ever revealed any information regarding your affiliation with La Setta?”
“What is your relationship with Sydney Bristow?”
“Are you aware that you put a person at risk once you tell her the truth?”
Vaughn looked away in annoyance, as did the other man. The situation remained tense until Vaughn decided to speak up.
“Give me a phone and I’ll oblige with your evaluations.”
“Hello?”
2) Timelines are erratic, so the dates and times of the parallel situations are written at the top of each transition. It should be self-explanatory, but the way I'm writing it is that Vaughn's situation is happening a week or so after the Sydney scenes.
3) If anybody can spot any literary machinations in the story (and there are loads, really!) please, please, please try and list them out! I'm really interested to see if anybody could pick any out
4) I'll be sending out PMs to everybody who requested one on all my other stories: Where We Were At, Aria, "You're Glowing!", Crisis Management and One Knee In Sawdust, so if you want out of the list, please tell me!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, just the warped storyline and even that is inspired by a lot of speculations about Vaughn.
Spoilers: Just speculation about season 5. Lots and lots of speculation.
Rating: PG-13. May or may not stay at that.
Ships: Sydney/Vaughn, Jack/Irina
STACCATO
By Jalyn/secretlives
Copyright 2005
*
(Prologue)Staccato: Marked by or composed of abrupt, disconnected parts
28th June, 17:09, Santa Barbara
She peeled open her eyes.
Darkness.
She closed and opened them again frantically.
Still dark.
The last thing she remembered terrified her, but in her present state, trepidation struck her heart, again and again.
Where am I? Am I dead? What happened? Did Vaughn-
She broke out in cold sweat.
Vaughn.
Vaughn.
Vaughn.
His name rang continuously in her mind and she felt her heart pounding, the sweat trickling from her forehead; her neck; down her back. She trembled, convulsions rocking her body.
“Well, for starters, my name isn’t Michael Vaughn.”
She remembered staring at him in horror. She remembered the sickening, crunching sound. She remembered the darkness, the taste of fear, but she could not remember what happened.
Moments later she heard footsteps, then the sound of the door opening and felt a presence in wherever she was at.
“Who’s that?” Her voice was shaky, her breaths an unsteady staccato rhythm.
“I’m your nurse, Miss.”
“Where am I?”
“In a hospital in Santa Barbara. You were involved in a car crash,” the nurse replied and tinkered with some metal trays. She gasped silently. Santa Barbara. Car crash. And? Why?
“Why can’t I see anything?” she mumbled, slowly and uncertainly.
“When you crashed, your optical nerves were strained,” a new voice spoke out, causing her to draw a sharp intake of breath again. “I’m Dr. Keller,” the new addition in the room reassured her.
“What about the driver? My… fiancé?” she choked out. There was a moment of discomforting silence.
“There was no one else. We only found you.”
*
(Chapter One)6th July, 16:24, unknown
As he tried to shift himself from the numbing sitting position he was in, an acute pain shot through his right leg. He grimaced, and tried to stop himself from projecting any sound.
Propping himself up, he heaved a barely perceptible sigh of relief when the throbbing pain subsided, if only for a little. He surveyed his surroundings: the bright, smooth white of the walls unnerved him and he frowned, the wrinkles rippling on his forehead.
Everything happened in a flash: Sydney and him, in Santa Barbara. Sydney joking about elopement – hey, he certainly wouldn’t mind it, especially if it were on a beach: he loves the beach – and the unexpected warning of Irina resurfacing in his mind.
‘You don’t want to end up like Jack and me – Tell Sydney the truth.’
In a spur of the moment he decided on a policy – a no-secrets, all-truth one with Sydney. He had to be fair, he mused, and reasoned that Sydney had a right to know everything.
‘Well, I’m a mysterious man. A lot of things you don’t know about me,’ he recalled telling her… Ah, that fateful day when she had been buried and there was nothing he could do but watch. And damn right he was, for he really did have many things she didn’t know, and mysterious he still remained. He had thought of letting her on, bit by bit, to attempt to cushion the shock.
“Hello,” a familiar voice rang up from behind him and in the door frame stood a man; his long, shaggy hair covering more than half of his face. How revolting, Vaughn thought, he hasn’t changed since I last saw him.
“How did you track me?” he asked coldly, assuming a demeanour that was unlike his usual self. If glares could kill, this unwelcome intruder to his thoughts would have to be dead by now.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters, however, is that you very nearly made the most severe mistake of your life.”
“Don’t give me this bullsh-t. Tell me where I am, and release me,” he ordered. The intruder gave a weird, long chuckle.
“Did you really think so? We’ve gone to so much pain and trouble just to get you back here, and you’re thinking we’ll let you go upon your command?”
“F-ck you,” he growled, and got on to his feet to lunge at that stupid, leering face. Big mistake that was, for his leg buckled under the weight and he collapsed to the floor along with his bruised dignity.
“Your leg is fractured in several places. So is your forearm. However, you managed to escape from the accident almost unscathed, and that I must say I’m impressed with.”
“Where’s Sydney?” he demanded, wincing at an unseen force that seemed intent on suffocating his lungs.
“Somewhere safe,” the man replied. Vaughn rolled his eyes in response.
“Of course she is. You wouldn’t want to hurt your beloved Chosen One, would you?” he sneered. Not that I would, of course, he added as an afterthought.
“Of course we wouldn’t. She’s untouched, as far as we know. She could’ve been hurt, if we hadn’t intercepted in the nick of time.”
“Bullsh-t. She’d have been hurt more if I hadn’t tried to tell her.”
The man strode across the room and crouched down to level his squinting eyes with Vaughn’s. Vaughn flinched, feeling slightly intimidated.
“Boy, listen to me –” he snarled, “she is not to know of your involvement.”
“It’s still all about you and this organisation isn’t it? Never for anybody’s safety-”
“Don’t you dare talk to me about safety. We pledge ourselves to the safety of The Chosen One-”
“Stop giving me this Rambaldi sh-t. I could take you up to my headquarters, have your organisation eliminated-”
“And risk your life and hers? No, I don’t think so. You love her too much for that. It was dictated.”
F-ck dictations. My entire life is dictated. Just like hers.
“Nothing else to say?” the man taunted and straightened up again, smoothing imaginary creases on his impeccable shirt. “The doctor will be here in a while to check up on your injuries. In the meantime, I suggest you get yourself acquainted with these walls. There’ll be a psyche evaluation-”
“Who the hell do you think you are, the CIA? Psyche evaluations?”
“You were obviously not in a right state of mind to have wanted to tell The Chosen One about your identity.”
Vaughn muttered another string of profanities vehemently. The man walked out of the room, but turned back in and addressed him again. He bore his eyes into Vaughn, and said definitively.
“That’s unacceptable behaviour, Milo.”
*
(Chapter Two)29th June, 14:39, Santa Barbara
She had grown accustomed to the darkness, and relied on her hearing more so than ever. What she had not grown accustomed to was the gnawing loneliness and the crippling fear. The scene replayed over and over, yet she could think of no reasonable explanation for Vaughn’s statement.
Is he French Mafia? Armata Corsa? FLNC? Is he working for the people we are fighting against? Is he in cahoots with the world’s most renowned terrorists? Is his name not Vaughn? Is he--
“Sydney,” a voice jerked her back into reality again. She gave a small smile towards him, and propped herself up on the bed – her hand on the railings as a guide.
“Dad… Thanks for coming.”
“Of course,” he said to her, and Sydney sensed him sitting down on the chair beside the bed. “There were some matters I had to settle before coming here.”
Sydney nodded.
“I heard about your condition from your doctor. He said the situation is strictly temporary.”
She nodded again and hesitated, opening her mouth then closing it again before deciding to let her father on the truth.
“Vaughn’s missing,” she told him.
“Excuse me?”
“I asked them. They said he’s missing. He wasn’t in the wreckage with me. Either he’s dead, or he staged this.”
Her voice wobbled as she rambled on, and for the third time in his life, Jack Bristow felt helpless as he watched his daughter lying on the hospital bed, defenceless and hurt by the only man in her life she had trusted.
“We’ll find him,” he assured her.
“There’s another thing…”
“What is it?”
“Before we left… I found out… I found out that…” her voice trailed off as she hesitated uncharacteristically, and Jack frowned.
“What did you find out?” he prompted. She turned away, a passing glimpse of discomfort etched on her face, and took a deep breath.
“I’m pregnant.”
*
I’m going to kill the man, he swore to himself, if that’s the only thing I can do for the rest of my life.
Jack Bristow walked angrily away from Sydney’s ward after being blasted by not just one, but two bombshells that she had dropped unceremoniously on him. To think that he had given that man his blessings to marry his daughter… he shook his head.
When he had heard news that this man was going to be his daughter’s handler in the agency, he had scoffed. But time and again, he had proven himself worthy not only of being her handler, but also of the forbidden fruit itself – Sydney. Still, he thought the final act that would render him worthless in front of everybody else was his marriage to Lauren, but even that did not deter Sydney from going back to him.
Irina. She’d have the answers.
*
8th July, 15:43, unknown“She’s here. It starts now.”
That was seven years ago.
Seven years ago he was a naïve and stupid youngling.
Seven years ago he was helpless.
Now, seven years on, he is still helpless. He lets out a sigh and still he stared at the white walls. Numerous psyche evaluations and interrogations on, and yet nothing had changed the fact that he was trapped in this maximum security building that allowed no room for escape; or at least not yet – not while he was still immobile.
“Your job is simple: You will protect her at all costs.”
“Just like that?” he questioned.
“Affirmative.”
And thus began The Guardian’s quest to protect The Chosen One.
*
(Chapter Three)9th July, 10:14, unknown
There are times in your life when you’re absolutely contented with what you have and the life you’re leading. You love everyone and everything else in between, and they love you back.
Unfortunately for Michael Vaughn, this was not one of those times.
He swore colourfully in his mind, but his face remained expressionless. He could sense the other man’s impatience creeping up as minutes turned to hours, and almost twenty of these hours had passed.
*
2nd July, 08:53, Santa BarbaraHow much of everything had been a lie? She wondered, sitting still on her propped-up bed. The constant humming of the air-conditional unit and the smell of the peroxide of the hospital had ironically soothed her.
When the door had clicked open, she had fully expected her father’s soft but commanding voice (even loving, she decided), but instead she heard the metallic rolling of a wheelchair and her senses went into immediate overdrive.
“Who’s that?” That seemed to be the one question hung on her mouth these days.
“It’s me,” a male replied and she relaxed. It was just Eric. Then she stopped short. Just Eric? She was about to ask again when the other person spoke up.
“Sydney, it’s Nadia.”
Her heart surged.
“Nadia. My god. Are you alright now?”
There was a weight of hesitation upon the air.
“I have to be …sedated every few hours or so. The symptoms will start every now and then.” Nadia’s voice sounded strangely strained.
“Oh.” Her heart sank once more. Will my heart sink and stop entirely one fine day? She mused, for that was the feeling of emptiness and all she could feel (and all she could see, albeit temporarily) was pure darkness. No flicker of light, no glimmer, no spark.
“I wanted to come over… to see how you are,” Nadia’s voice reverberated through the room. Sydney noted the edge of apprehension in her voice but nodded anyway. She shot a smile in their general direction.
“I’m fine,” she lied, “I presume you’ve heard about what happened from my dad.”
Again that note of hesitation.
“We heard about Vaughn,” Weiss confirmed and she scoffed inwardly. Not-Vaughn is more like it.
“Was that all he said?” she asked, her left hand sub-consciously wrapping itself across her abdomen. She heard him cough before answering.
“That was all. When he got back to the office, he made a beeline route to Marshall, then rounded us up to let us know. About the crash.”
She nodded again but Nadia detected a deeper story. Sydney heard some hushed whispers exchanged but made no attempt to snoop. She felt Weiss stand up and walk out through the door. Nadia placed her hand on Sydney’s right.
“Is there something I should know?”
“I –” Sydney paused, the words not flowing like it did for her father. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Sydney, I’m your sister. You can tell me anything.”
I’m sorry, Nadia, I can’t trust anyone else right now, she thought, hot tears springing and pulsating underneath her eyelids. Gratefully, she heard the door click open and it was Dr. Keller and her scheduled daily check up. After squeezing Nadia’s hand and thanking them both for visiting her, her mind wandered into dark oblivion again.
*
9th July, 22:35, unknown“Are you an operative of the CIA?”
He clamped his mouth shut, like the past three days held in captive. I’ll be damned if I ever answer anything. The interrogator made a mark on the piece of paper, drew a sharp intake of breath and rattled on again.
“How long have you been an operative of the CIA?”
“Have you ever revealed any information regarding your affiliation with La Setta?”
“What is your relationship with Sydney Bristow?”
“Are you aware that you put a person at risk once you tell her the truth?”
Vaughn looked away in annoyance, as did the other man. The situation remained tense until Vaughn decided to speak up.
“Give me a phone and I’ll oblige with your evaluations.”
*
Somewhere in Wisconsin, a phone rang. “Hello?”
