Time

Time
by LaFemme
Chapter 1


Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me. I'm just "borrowing" them for a little while and I promise to return them.

Spoilers: This takes place between the Getaway and Phase One, hence Sydney sometimes thinks Vaughn's an idiot of sorts.
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Peace and tranquility; two words that so many of seek in our lifetime but rarely find, at least on a permanent basis. We encounter it at different times in our life, but it rarely stays with us. It would seem for every instance we find that elusive element of peace, chaos is not far behind.

For Sydney Bristow, tonight was her night of peace. She was quietly enjoying her first night off in a long time. There were no missions to think about, no breaches of security, and no governments to topple or prevent from being toppled. Tonight, Sydney was going to curl up with a good book or at least a good book for her. It was one of those trashy romance novels about a hero with a tortured soul that needed to be saved.

“Yeah right,” Sydney said aloud to herself as she the cover of the book. For whatever reason, she began thinking of Vaughn again. Now there was tortured and confused soul that Sydney wondered if she would ever understand, let alone save. Too many times, Sydney had gotten so close to finally understanding Vaughn, only to be pushed away or to have her father step in the middle of things. Well tonight, she vowed to herself, she would not be disturbed.

Just then, the phone rang. “Damn it! Leave it to Vaughn to ruin an otherwise good evening.” Sydney got up from the sofa, and searched for her cell phone. She answered the phone, ready to tell Vaughn where to go, when she was caught off guard by what she heard.

“Joey’s pizza *cough*?” the voice asked. Sydney recognized it as Vaughn’s voice. He did not sound good.

“Vaughn? You’re secure. We can talk. What’s the matter? You sound awful,” she remarked.

“Syd . . . can . . . you . . . come over?” he asked in a strained voice.
Now Syd was truly worried. Vaughn rarely invited Sydney over to his place, let along anyone from the CIA. For him, his home was his private sanctuary.

“I’ll be right over,” she told him, hanging up the phone. Sydney immediately grabbed her jacket and headed out of the apartment.

When Sydney arrived at Vaughn’s apartment, she knocked on the door. At first, it appeared that no one was answering. Sydney was about to pick the lock, when the door opened. Standing before her was Vaughn or it at least appeared to be Vaughn. He didn’t look good. He was very pale, almost ashen white in color.

“Come in . . . “Vaughn offered as he coughed again.
Sydney eyed his appearance cautiously, “You alright?”

“I’m not feeling good and I . . .”

Sydney interrupted. “You called me over for a head cold? Why?”

Vaughn wasn’t even sure of the answer to that question. However, before he could answer, he clutched his stomach, doubling over in pain. Vaughn would have collapsed to the floor if Sydney hadn’t caught him.

“VAUGHN!” Sydney was worried. Wrapping her arm around his waist, she helped Vaughn over the sofa. Once he was seated, she felt his forehead. He was burning up.

“Vaughn, how long have you been like this?” she asked as she began to strip off his already perspiration-soaked clothes.

“Since last night; it just came on suddenly. Look, I’m sorry for bothering you. You can go home . . . I can take care of myself.”

Sydney took one look at Vaughn and shook her head. “No, I’m not leaving. Now lie down and close your eyes. You need some rest. I’ll be right back.”

Vaughn didn’t feel like arguing and so he did as Sydney instructed. Then, just as quickly as he closed his eyes, he opened them again, feeling something cold against his skin. He looked over to his left and realized that Sydney was gently swabbing his arms and legs with alcohol trying to cool his fever raged body. It did seem to have a somewhat soothing effect on him. Vaughn closed his eyes once more and let out a deep sigh, releasing a breath he’d been holding.

“There . . . better?” Sydney’s voice was very relaxing and almost comforting.

Vaughn nodded. Gradually he felt himself becoming drowsier until finally he could no longer keep his eyes open and thus he fell asleep. Sydney looked at Vaughn. He seemed to be so . . . she couldn’t find the word. Vaughn was still a puzzle to her. There were the times that she loved him, and the times she wanted to kill him. Well, she thought to herself, guess my work is done.

Sydney decided to stay the night and see Vaughn through until the morning. She rummaged through his apartment and found a blanket and a pillow. Sydney then made her comfortable on his papasan chair and soon fell asleep.

Sydney was awakened the next morning by the rumblings of Vaughn in his kitchen. She climbed up from the chair she’d been sleeping in, and walked over to Vaughn, who appeared to be fixing some sort of a small breakfast.
“You look better,” Sydney observed.

Vaughn smiled back. “Yeah, thank you for staying last night . . . I,” Vaughn’s words were abruptly interrupted as he clutched his stomach and collapsed to the ground, allowing a glass he’d been holding to slip from his hand and shatter as it impacted the floor. The pain Vaughn was feeling, evident through the expression that now shown on his face, was unbelievable. Sydney immediately raced to his side. Holding Vaughn up with one arm, she ran her hand along the counter top and found his cell phone. Sydney quickly dialed Ops and was put through to her father. “Dad, we’ve got a problem. Vaughn’s sick . . . real sick.”

“We’ll send someone immediately, was Jack’s response.
Sydney hung up the phone, not really knowing what else she should do next. Vaughn was now shaking, unable to control himself as spasm after spasm ran through his body. Sydney felt helpless. “Hang on Vaughn . . . please, hang on . . .” she urged as she cradled him in her arms, rocking him back and forth, fighting back the tears of that stemmed from not knowing what was really wrong with Vaughn.
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So whatcha think?

LaFemme :P
 
Time
Chapter 2


Vaughn’s body continued to be wracked by spasm after spasm. Sydney held onto him, although it didn’t seem to help much.

“God, when are they going to get here?” she asked aloud.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long before Sydney heard a knock at the door. Looking at Vaughn, she knew she couldn’t leave him behind to answer the door.

“It’s open!” she called out.

The door opened and two medical transport specialists entered Vaughn’s apartment. Following Sydney’s voice, they made their way to the kitchen. They loaded Vaughn onto the gurney they’d brought with them and began to head to the waiting ambulance. However, their return to the ambulance was stopped short when Vaughn’s body was hit with yet another spasm. One of the specialists now produced a syringe and injected its contents into Vaughn’s arm. It appeared to be a sedative of sorts because the drug had an almost immediate affect on Vaughn; stopping the violent spasms that had been previously wracking his body.

Vaughn was still mumbling incoherently, but at least he seemed a bit more stable than before. Sydney came to the side of the gurney, damp washcloth in hand. She began to dab his forehead with the washcloth.

“M’am, that’s not going to do any good,” one of the specialists commented. but Sydney didn’t seem to care. All she wanted, was for Vaughn to get well as soon as possible.

At Ops, a medical team was on standby, awaiting Vaughn’s arrival. Once the ambulance reached its destination, Vaughn was immediately whisked away. Sydney tried to follow but her father intervened. “Sydney, I need to see you now.”
Although she cared for her father as well as respected him, Sydney was clearly irritated with his timing. “I need to see Vaughn! I . . .” however, Jack Bristow was in no mood to argue with his daughter at this moment.

“SYDNEY! NOW!” he commanded, but then lowered his tone of voice, “It’s important. It concerns Vaughn.”

Dropping her shoulders, Sydney felt as if he had no choice. She followed Jack into his office, doing her best to hide her emotions.

“Sydney, Vaughn needs you now more than ever. I’m sorry if I had to be abrupt, but I need you to focus,” Jack explained as he sat in the chair behind his desk.
Sydney paused for a moment. Although she was irked, she could also see it was recent events that bothered her and not her father. She also knew that her father really for Vaughn’s well being. “What do you mean Vaughn needs me?” she asked.
“Vaughn’s been poisoned. From what we can deduce, he has approximately 72 hours to live.” Jack stopped for a minute, allowing Sydney to process all that he was telling her.

Sydney was speechless. Vaughn poisoned? How? Who? Sydney knew that her questions were rhetorical in natures, but that didn’t stop her from thinking. “Dad, how did this happen? How was the poison introduced?”

“That is what you must find out. This is the only clue we have so far.” Jack handed Sydney a file with a single sheet of paper inside it. On the paper, was the following message . . .

I hurt . . . You hurt . . . I died . . . Now you must die!

Sydney didn’t know what to make of the message. It didn’t offer much, other than being almost childlike in nature. All that she knew was that she had 72 hours to not only find out how the poison was introduced to Vaughn, but to also discover the antidote as well. Once she had the two elements in place, she could save Vaughn’s life.

“Where do I start?” she asked her father.

“Start with Vaughn. Find out everything you can about him. Get him to tell you everything. Remember that in our lives, duplicity is almost second nature. Trust is a luxury that few of us can afford. Get him to open up to you. Believe it or not, he does trust you. He just needs to see it.”

Sydney bowed her head for a moment. Get Vaughn to talk about himself? While it was true that she and Vaughn shared something, she didn’t know if she could get him to talk. Their last attempt at a date in Nice was a disaster. It was one thing to help Vaughn, but it was quite another to have to fight him, even if it was only a verbal sparing?

What would she do?
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So have I got your attention?

LaFemme
 
Time
Chapter 3


As Sydney made her way down to medical, she continued to replay the day’s events over and over again and again. Vaughn was poisoned. He had less that 72 hours to live and somehow she find out not only who poisoned him Vaughn, but she had to acquire the antidote as well.

“No problem,” she told herself, “no problem at all.”

As Sydney entered the medical lab, she was surprised to find Vaughn sitting up in bed. He did not look ill at all. He actually appeared to fine, and so Sydney was naturally confused. “Vaughn?”

Vaughn, who had been speaking with the doctor when Sydney entered, looked up, “Well, I’m not dead yet, from what the doctor tells me,” he shrugged, a slight smile crossing his face.

At that moment, the doctor who had been speaking with Vaughn turned in Sydney’s direction. He was of a medium build, perhaps in his late 50s, with a receding hairline that was beginning to show.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Weinberg,” he offered as he extended his hand.
Sydney shook his hand as he continued to explain Vaughn’s current prognosis. “It appears that Agent Vaughn has been injected with a type of time-release poison. It will be approximately 72 hours before the effects of the poison are fully experienced. Until such time, Agent Vaughn will have some periods of normality. We are working on an antidote, but are best estimate is about 90 hours, which will be one day too late for Agent Vaughn. I’m sorry I don’t have better news.”

“Thank you doctor,” Sydney responded; a slight dejection heard in her voice.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back shortly. I need to get some medication for Agent Vaughn. While it won’t cure his current condition, it should reduce the pain he will eventually experience.”

“Okay, we’ll be right here,” Sydney answered, and then realized how silly her response sounded.

Turning her attention back to Vaughn, Sydney spoke. “Well, my father seems to think I should talk to you,” she began.

Vaughn seemed a bit puzzled, “Why?”

“To try and determine who did this to you. Look, Vaughn I need your help. I need to know everything that you’ve done within the past 48 hours. We’ve got to retrace your steps so that we can find the person who did this as well as the antidote.”

Vaughn paused for a moment, his brow furrowed as he thought. His privacy was something he valued highly. That, he learned at an early age following the death of his father. Emotions were something that remained hidden; revealed to only a select few. However, his life was at stake and for some reason, that was unclear to him, he wanted to be near Sydney. She was becoming one of the select few that he felt could eventually open up to in conversation.

Sydney and Vaughn’s conversation was interrupted by the return of the Dr. Weinberg. “Agent Bristow?” he asked. Both turned toward the doctor “As best we can figure out, Agent Vaughn can accompany you out into the field on a limited basis. Agent Vaughn, you’ll need to stay near Agent Bristow. She’ll be able to administer these painkillers as the symptoms worsen. The progression of symptoms should be as follows: nausea, weakness, convulsions, and finally blindness. At that time your body begins to shut down all functions and you’ll be dead. The painkillers won’t stop the progression of the poison, but they may buy you a little bit of time.”

Sydney was clearly worried, but managed a small joke. “So what’s the bad news?” Vaughn smiled in return, but more out of a need to put Sydney’s mind at ease than anything else. At the moment, he could tell that she was terrified of losing him and strangely enough, Vaughn was afraid of losing Sydney.

“Well I’ll leave you alone,” the Dr. Weinberg said as he left the medical lab. Sydney looked at Vaughn.

“You ready?” she asked.

Vaughn nodded his head in response as Sydney handed him his clothes; a pair of khaki colored slacks, a light blue sweater, and a pair of brown boots, Within fifteen minutes, he was dressed and heading out the door with Sydney following close behind. Their first stop would be his apartment. Vaughn had been there during the past week. His last mission occurred about two weeks ago and following that, he was given a week to rest. Towards the end of the
second week, Vaughn became ill.

Their drive to Vaughn’s apartment was quiet to say the least. Vaughn had closed his eyes as Sydney drove, more to collect his thoughts she surmised rather than sleep. Sydney knew she needed information from Vaughn in order to help him, but she didn’t really know where to start. Finally, Sydney made up her mind that she would wait until she was at Vaughn’s apartment before she pressed him for any personal information.

When Sydney and Vaughn arrived at the apartment, the first thing she did was to assess the décor. Vaughn’s style could be best described as that of a minimalist. While his apartment was far from cluttered, it only contained the essentials; a television set and sofa in the living room, a few small wooden end tables placed as needed, basic lamps, which looked as though they came from a catalog. There were also a few small knick knacks that adorned the fireplace mantel. Sydney did notice one item that caught her eye; a picture of Vaughn as a young boy with whom he could best determine was his father. She now understood where he had acquired some of the physical characteristic she found so appealing.

“Syd?” Vaughn asked as he touched her shoulder. It startled her for a moment, but then she turned to look at him.

“Hey, this is a nice place you have here.”

“Thanks, well . . . uh . . . I think I’ll go check my answering machine. It’s in the bedroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Sydney answered as Vaughn headed towards his bedroom. She continued her survey of Vaughn’s apartment, when she was interrupted again by Vaughn’s voice.

“Syd?” he called out. “Can you come here?”

Stopping her investigation of Vaughn’s apartment, Sydney walked down the hallway until she reached Vaughn’s bedroom. It was medium sized room, complete with a queen-sized bed and a burgundy colored bedspread. The curtains were a bit plain; cream-colored with a small crisscross pattern. A small hand carved oak dresser complemented what would have been an otherwise drab room. Pausing with her assessment of Vaughn’s bedroom, she turned her attention back to him. “What’s up?”

“Listen,” he indicated as he pressed play on the answering machine. As Sydney listened, she noticed nothing out of the ordinary. There were the usual calls about when his laundry would be ready as well as some reservations that he’d made for a restaurant which had been confirmed. Then, the final message played. It was a woman’s voice, perhaps in her mid to late thirties. Sydney deduced she was probably a Caucasian as she could hear no noticeable accents in her speech. There was a distinct iciness in the tone of her voice. It chilled Sydney to the bone.

“Michael? So how are you feeling? Are you in much pain? It can’t be nearly as much as what you caused me! I’m going to enjoy watching you die. Die you bastard! Die like the coward you are!”

The message was clear and direct. Someone was out to exact revenge upon Vaughn for a past wrong. As Sydney looked over Vaughn, she was surprised to see that he was clearly shaken. That was so rare for him; he usually kept his emotions bottled very tightly. At first Sydney thought it was the phone call. “Michael?” she asked, as she placed a hand on his shoulder. It was then that Sydney realized the phone call was not the cause of Vaughn’s behavior, but rather the poison. He was beginning to show signs of its effects. His hands began to shake. Wrapping her arm around his waist, Sydney guided Vaughn to the bed and went to get some water for the painkillers she was about to give him.

When Sydney returned, she had a glass of water in one hand and two pills in the other. Vaughn did his best to hold back the pain he was feeling, his teeth clenched, his eyes shut tight. “Here, take these,” Sydney instructed as she handed him the pills.

Vaughn opened his eyes and looked at Sydney. “Thank you,” Vaughn responded, offering a weak smile in return. He took the pills and drank the glass of water she gave him. When he was finished, he handed the glass back to her and closed his eyes once more.

“Well, at least we’ve heard the voice of your attacker as it were. Now, if we can get a copy of it to someone in Ops, maybe they can run an analysis to see who it is.”

Vaughn shook his head; “I know who it is . . .” Sydney was taken aback by
Vaughn’s statement. “Who is it?” she asked.

“It’s A . . . .” but before he could finish his thought, Vaughn had drifted off to sleep, the medication providing him with some much needed rest.

Sydney shook her head, much like a mother would behave when she did not know what to do with a small child. She gently ran her hand down Vaughn’s cheek, all the while talking to him. “It’s okay Vaughn. We’ll find them. Just hand in there. Please just hang in there.” She placed a small kiss on his lips. It did little for Vaughn, but for Sydney, there was definitely something more.

She only hoped that Vaughn would live for her to understand these things; these feelings she was beginning to have . . . for Vaughn.
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to be continued . . .

LaFemme
 
Time
Chapter 4


Setting – a large mansion located an unnamed countryside . . .

Annette played the tape once more.

Learn to fly . . .

He’d left the message for her when he broke off the relationship. Annette came across it when she went through some personal belongings she’d found in safety deposit box at the local bank. The lawyers had some papers for her to sign and soon after, one of the bank managers informed her of the existence of the safety deposit box. Upon emptying the contents of the box into her purse, Annette turned and headed for home . . . not hers, but it was home for now.

Seated at home, much like before, Annette curled up in her favorite chair. She always loved that papasan chair. It was so warm and inviting. She spent many nights in the arms of the one she had loved so much, with all her heart and soul. Now, she did nothing. She simply stared out into space . . . looking . . . longing . . . to fill a void. It was a void left by one person . . . Michael Vaughn, employee of the State Department and now as Annette had recently learned, the CIA.

It was now three months ago; three months ago that the one she loved died. Her father passed away before she did. Michael was there for her. He comforted her, supported her, and cared for her. He was there in her hour of need. And then . . . he broke her heart. Shortly thereafter, a day arrived; one which Annette would not and could not ever forget.

She remembered that day all too well. Annette had finished school early and decided to pay a surprise visit to her house. As Annette approached the front door, she sensed something was not quite right.

“Hey, ya home?” she called out as she made her way up the staircase. Annette walked throughout the rooms upstairs but found nothing. She walked through each room, finding the same as before; nothing. Then, just as she was about to descend the staircase, Annette noticed a small trail of blood. It led to the bathroom. Slowly and with a sense of dread, Annette opened the door that led to the bathroom. She was far from prepared for the sight presented before her.

Lying in a pool of blood, both wrists slit, was the one she cared about the most; her soul as she was often called.

“Oh my god,” Annette cried out. She immediately ran to the side of the bathtub. “Please wake up . . . oh god, please don’t be dead . . .” Annette sobbed quietly, still in disbelief as to what she had just seen.

Then, Annette heard a voice. “Hi . . .” the young lady said as she looked into Annette’s eyes. “Tell Michael that I still love him. I just couldn’t go on without him, without father . . . I couldn’t learn to . . . f . . . l . . . y,” and with those words, her eyes closed for a final time. Annette tried to cry, but she could not.

Annette’s sadness was quickly turning to rage. It her eyes, there was only one reason for this death and that reason was Michael Vaughn. She made a vow to herself that she would avenge the death . . . the death of the one she loved. She would make Michael pay and pay dearly he would.

It didn’t take very much time for Annette to organize her plan for revenge. She began by starting with some basic surveillance of her own. Work at a small coffee shop across from Vaughn’s apartment gave Annette a perfect vantage point for much of what she needed. When needed, she followed either by car or sometimes on foot. Within a period of one month, she knew much about Michael Vaughn’s daily routine; where he lived, what he ate for breakfast, how he liked his coffee, as well as the minor things that many would consider insignificant. For example, he had a habit of always stopping at the park to feed some birds at the lake. As best Annette could figure out, he was always watching to see if he was being followed. Once, she thought he almost saw her, but apparently he was waiting for someone else to join him on that particular day. It was a woman.

Annette later learned the name of the woman; Sydney Bristow. So this was the *h**e who Michael had gone to? Annette shook her head in disbelief. Upon further investigation, Annette discovered that Sydney was engaged to be married. The engagement was ended when Sydney’s fiancé was murdered. Annette did not know who murdered Sydney’s fiancé, but she didn’t care. As far as Annette was concerned, Sydney could watch, someone she loved, die again.

Annette made her move one late night. Upon seeing Vaughn arrive at his apartment, Annette waited another thirty minutes. She then made her way up the walkway. Once she was at the front door, Annette took a small canister from the bag she’d been carrying. Slowly, she began a feed of a “sleeping” gas into Vaughn’s apartment. It was a derivative of halothane; very similar to the type used in hospital operating rooms. Annette waited a good ten minutes to insure that there was no possibility that Vaughn was awake. Once satisfied, she picked the lock and quietly entered; her mask firmly in place. Her heart pounded at the thought of what she was about to do.

The surroundings of Vaughn’s apartment came as a small surprise to Annette. For some strange reason, she expected to see a place that was dark and dreary. While doing surveillance, the one thing Annette had seen was Vaughn’s penchant for nothing. He seemed to not have much or wear too much in the way of color. Occasionally, he would compliment an otherwise dark and dreary suit, with a splash of color. Usually it was in the form of a shirt. Looking now at his apartment, she noticed some unique paintings that adorned Vaughn’s living room; a copy of Marc Chagall’s “The Green Violinist” was one as well as another painting by Chagall, the name of which escaped Annette’s mind.

Vaughn’s unique art collection brought back memories for Annette. It was a time when she was an art student at UCLA; a time when she was much happier . . . when . . . A . . . was alive. However, she quickly reminded herself that Vaughn was the one who was responsible for the death. He used her and then when he was done, he threw her away like a used rag. Annette knew he needed to finish the job before Michael woke.

Upon entering the bedroom, Annette watched as Michael slept. Slowly, she approached the bed, still unsure as to whether or not he would wake. He did not. Annette returned her attention to her mission at hand. Pulling out a pre-filled syringe, she checked once more to see that it was full. Annette hesitated for one moment. This was the moment and she still didn’t know if she could go through with it. “Snap out of it!” she told herself. It was the beginning of the end for Michael Vaughn. Annette placed one hand on Vaughn’s forehead and gently turned his head so that his neck was now exposed. Michael would never know where the mark had occurred. He would simply assume he nicked himself shaving.

“Now you’ll suffer, just like my sister, you bastard! I hope you rot in hell!” Once Annette injected the contents of the syringe into Vaughn, she left like the grim reaper, eager to spread pain and suffering throughout the night. She simply faded back into the shadows of the night. Now it was simply a matter of time; something of which Michael Vaughn was going to find that he had very little time.
____________________________________________________________________

So whatcha think?

LaFemme
 
this is really good....i dont have time to make many comments but its good! (y)
post more soon and can you pm me when you update?

*Lauren*
 
Oooo, I love this story! Hmm....who could 'A' possibly be? I can't wait for an update!! So good, so good!

S/V
 
Time
Chapter 5


Watching Vaughn sleep, Sydney couldn’t help but be captivated by the vision presented before her. Here was a man, who had truly turned her world upside down. From the first moment she met Vaughn, Sydney’s life had never been the same. He angered her, aggravated her, and often frustrated her with his somewhat standoffish attitude. She smiled as she thought, ‘and those are his good points.’ Of course, not all that Vaughn did was negative. She remembered the many times when he comforted her, soothed her, and gave her solace in her times of need. The only question that remained in Sydney’s mind was whether or not Vaughn loved her. She wasn’t even sure if she loved him. She had feelings, but they were unclear at the moment.

Sydney’s thoughts quickly returned to the present as she continued to watch Vaughn sleep. The rise and fall of his chest seemed to take on a rhythm of its own. For once in his lifetime, he seemed to be so at peace. Sydney shuddered at the choice of her words; peace.

“Stop it!” she admonished. Vaughn would not die. She vowed once more that she would find the antidote. He would live. Just then, Sydney heard Vaughn begin to waken from his slumber.

“Where am I?” he mumbled as he sat up on the sofa, trying to regain his bearings.

Returning to the sofa, a glass of water and two pills in hand, Sydney leaned down until she was at eye level with Vaughn. “Here, take these.” She knew the medication Vaughn had taken previously would be wearing off soon and he was hardly the type to say when he was in pain.

Vaughn sat up and took the pills and water from Sydney. He swallowed the pills and finished the glass of water, not realizing how dehydrated his must have been. Looking around, things began to come back to him. He had come to his apartment to see if there were any clues as to who had poisoned him. He played his answering machine and then . . .

“Vaughn?” Sydney interrupted.

“Hmm?” he answered his mind still somewhat foggy.

“You were saying something about knowing who left you the message?” Sydney hated to press, given the fact that Vaughn was in so much pain, but time was truly of the essence at the moment.

“It has to be Alice,” Vaughn responded as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying in vain to fight off an oncoming headache.

“Alice?” Sydney asked in a surprised tone of voice. “Why do you say that?”

“Because of the money I gave her when I broke off things, the
connections she has, plus the fact that I found out she worked at one time for SD-2.” Vaughn tried to shut out the impending pain as he continued with his explanation. “Plus, there’s one more small detail.”

“What’s that?” Sydney asked.

“My phone has an automatic tracer on it. The number that left the message came from Alice’s cell phone number.”

Sydney was still confused. “But what about the money? Vaughn, you’re not making any sense.”

Vaughn then went on to explain how he’d left fifty thousand dollars for Alice when he broke things off. He had felt really bad, since he left her not long after her father died. Vaughn had hoped Alice would put the money to good use. Apparently, she had other ideas.

“Vaughn, where did you get fifty thousand dollars?” Sydney couldn’t imagine that Vaughn was some secret millionaire and so there had to be a logical explanation. The trouble was, the more Vaughn explained, the murkier everything became.

Lying back on the sofa, eyes closed, his breathing becoming shallower, Vaughn did his best to explain things to Sydney. “It came from . . . a bank account I had set up. It was going to be our . . . wedding . . . fund . . . until . . .”

“Until you found out she was Alliance,” Sydney finished.

Vaughn nodded in response and laid his head back on the pillow. Sydney did her best to take in all the information that Vaughn had given to her. However, there was one thing that still hurt; the wedding. Sydney couldn’t believe or didn’t want to believe that Vaughn was going to get married to Alice. Even though it was now a moot point, she still didn’t know how to react. She did know that the pain she felt cut deep. However, this was not the time to deal with the problem. Sighing aloud, Sydney thought, ‘leave it Vaughn to throw a wall up between us, even when he’s dying.’

Sydney turned her attention back to Vaughn. Looking at him once more; she knew he was in no shape to go anywhere. “Vaughn?”

“Hmm?” he answered; he’d almost fallen asleep once more.

“I’m going to head in and see if Weiss can help us. Maybe he can find out about Alice’s contacts, most recent whereabouts and well . . . I figure anything is better than nothing.”

“Okay,” Vaughn answered, his eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.

“Alright then, why don’t you rest here? I’ll be back in a few hours. I won’t be long.” Sydney received no response.

“Vaughn?”

Upon closer examination, Sydney could see that Vaughn had fallen asleep once more. Drawing the blanket up to cover his chest, she placed a small but chaste kiss on his lips. She was not used to seeing like this; hurt, vulnerable. In leaving, Sydney made one small prayer; that Vaughn would live and realize that he had an ally in Sydney. Then, maybe the two of them would start a . . .
She left Vaughn once more, but not before a single tear cascaded down her cheek, hitting Vaughn’s face in the process.

Sydney’s drive to Ops gave her some time to think; time to think about her and Vaughn. Unfortunately she didn’t know if there was really a ‘them” as she had thought. Maybe it was all in her imagination and of course there were those rules between an Agent and her Handler. However, Sydney had grown to think of Vaughn as more than her Handler. He was co-worker, a friend, a confidant, a partner and . . . something more, but if Sydney did not hurry, Vaughn would only become a memory, something of her past.

Arriving at Ops, Sydney refocused her attention on the problem at hand. She went to Weiss’ office and briefed him on the most recent series of events. For the next thirty minutes, Sydney and Weiss continued to pursue all leads on Alice, each ending in a dead end. Sydney was ready to go for a coffee run for Weiss, when her father popped his head in once more.

“Sydney?” he began.

“Dad,” she answered.

“Can I see you for a minute?” a concern evident in his voice.

“Can’t it wait?” Sydney asked; her attention more focused on finding Alice.

“It’s about Vaughn,” he told her.

Sydney glanced up. She recognized that look in her father’s eyes. He had an idea, and more than likely, it would mean breaking protocol.

“Weiss, I’ll be right back,” she told him.

“Okay,” Weiss acknowledged as he turned his attention back to the computer.

Stepping out into the hallway, Sydney got straight to the point. “What’s up?”

Jack Bristow had always been a mystery to Sydney. Although he was her father, Sydney felt he actually more of a stranger than a father. However, it didn’t stop him from helping her from time to time, even if it meant breaking the rules.

“Here,” he handled a small slip of paper to her. On the paper was a phone number.

“What this?” she asked.

“Call this number soon. This is the number for a contact of mine.” With those words, Jack turned and walked away, leaving Sydney standing in the hallway, alone in thought. Shaking her head, she turned back towards Weiss’ office.

“So whatcha got for me? Do we have any current intel on Alice?”
Weiss was slow to respond, “Well, I’m not sure how to put this Sydney . . .”

“What?”

“Alice is . . . well maybe it’s better if you look at this . . .” he indicated as he pointed to a classified article that was on his computer screen. Taking a seat at Weiss’ desk, Sydney took a closer look. Weiss had pulled up an obituary of none other than . . . ALICE!

“Weiss, I don’t understand,” Sydney began.

“I think it’s pretty clear,” Weiss countered.

“No wait, Vaughn told me he heard her voice on the answering machine, just yesterday. How can that be?”

“I think I know,” Weiss offered. He motioned for Sydney to scroll down further. He’d found another headline, which talked about Alice’s death. There was a photo. Below the photo was a caption. As Sydney read the article, her eyes grew wider with astonishment.

“A SISTER?” Sydney now had put it together. Alice had a sister, who was named Annette. That would explain why Vaughn thought he heard Alice, when in reality it was probably Annette. The information in the classified article went on to explain how Annette came home one day to find her sister dead, the victim of an apparent suicide. Sydney closed her eyes, shaking her head as she spoke.

“She must blame Vaughn,” Sydney deduced. “Which means . . . OH MY GOD!” it was at that moment that Sydney picked up her coat and ran out of Weiss’ office.

“Means what?” Weiss called out, but Sydney did not answer.
Sydney knew that Annette learned about Vaughn. She was the one to inject him with the poison at his apartment. Vaughn broke up with Alice following his date with Sydney in France. Therefore, Annette had to also know about her as well, which meant . . .

She prayed that she wasn’t too late. “Please . . . oh dear god . . . please . . .”

As Sydney drove to Vaughn’s apartment, her mind continued to race. Annette would not only blame Vaughn for her sister’s suicide, but perhaps Sydney as well. After all, she was the “other woman” as it were. Of course what she was thinking was illogical, but logic had no place when it came to revenge. As Sydney reached Vaughn’s apartment, she found she was taking three steps instead of her usual one as she ran up the walkway to the building. When she arrived at the door, her worse fears were confirmed. The door was open and Vaughn was gone. On the sofa, was a small pool of blood, where he had been sleeping. Lying in the pool of blood was a note. Picking up the note, Sydney read the contents,

Traitor to your own kind! Time’s almost up and you won’t be able to save him!

Sydney, for once in her life, was truly scared; she was terrified for Vaughn. Where was he and what condition was he in? The blood she found on the sofa did not make matters any better. She put one hand in her coat to keep from shaking and pulled out her cell phone.

“Hello?” the voice answered, a distinct British accent heard.

“Sark?”
 
wow!!! that was great! syd & sark are gonna work together! hah! that'll be great! poor vaughn!!! i feel so sorry for him but he wil get better wont he?? ok well thnx 4 the pm! update really really soon!!
 
OMG! WOW! This is soooo good! Please please PM me with a link to this page when you update, cause it is a pain in the @$$ to find different stories. Thanx!

:::~*Ryan*~:::
 
Time
Chapter 6


Darkness; sometimes it can be so frightening and sometimes it can be a welcome blessing. It brings a sense of comfort if one welcomes it, and it can also create a sense of dread. The unknown is what frightens many in the realm of darkness. Such was the case for Vaughn.

As he awoke, he slowly began to realize that he was surrounded in darkness. It enveloped him like a hazy fog, allowing him not sight at all. Try as he might, he could not see in any direction. Movement was also impossibility. In attempting to stand up, he discovered that he was chained to the floor. He could do no more than rise to his knees. Sinking back down into the abyss in which he had plummeted, Vaughn placed his hands to his head. The throbbing he felt was almost unbearable. Then, it all came back to him . . .


Three hours earlier . . .

Vaughn was awakened from his deep slumber by a knocking sound. At first he could not tell from where it came, but he soon determined that it was someone knocking at the front door. Vaughn slowly arose from the sofa and made his way to the front door, placing his hand on the wall for balance. He wasn’t sure, but guessed that it was Weiss or Jack visiting him to see how he was doing. If it were Sydney, she would have simply let herself in his place.

Each step he took proved to be an effort for Vaughn. The effects of the poison were becoming more and more pronounced. He tried to fight off another wave of nausea, but to no avail.

“Just a minute,” he called out to the stranger at the door. Reaching for a nearby washcloth, Vaughn wiped his face and opened the door. Just then, another wave of pain wracked his body. Looking up, he saw the strikingly beautiful figure of a woman. She looked like . . . Alice?

“Hello Michael,” the voice taunted. “Feel a bit ill lately?”

Try as he might, Vaughn could barely fight off the impending darkness that was seeking to cover him. “Do . . . I . . . know you?” he managed to ask.

The woman smiled, “I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Annette. My sister was ALICE! She died because of you and now I’m going to make sure that you die and that Agent Sydney Bristow watches you wither away, just like my sister did on that fateful day. The only difference will be that you will have company. My sister died ALONE!”

Before Vaughn had a chance to react, Annette brought the baton she’d been holding behind her back and made contact with Vaughn’s skull. He slumped to the floor; a crumpled heap now at Annette’s feet.

Acting quickly, Annette returned to the van she’d rented and pulled a wheelchair from the back of the vehicle. Once she was inside the apartment, she loaded Vaughn into the chair and wheeled him away, into the darkness of the night. She knew it would be only a matter of time before Sydney Bristow discovered where she would be hiding. What Annette wanted now, was the ultimate revenge. She wanted Vaughn to suffer just as her sister did on her last day on earth. She also wanted to make Sydney Bristow pay for taking Vaughn away from Alice.
____________________________________________________________________

Racing along the winding roads, Sydney’s mind continued to race, much like the car she was driving. She couldn’t believe the voice she heard on the other end of the phone; the number her father had given her; Sark? Sydney shook her head in disbelief, wondering what deal her father had made for this devil; as well as the price he would exact from her.

One hour earlier . . .

“Sark . . .” Sydney began, still in disbelief as to who she was speaking with on the phone.

“Agent Bristow; well isn’t this interesting. I thought I would be speaking with your father; not that you aren’t a pleasant alternative. Is there something I can do for you?” The smoothness of his voice made Sydney ill at the thought of what she was about to ask.

“I need your help.” She stated; hiding the pleading tone that was in her mind.

“How may I be of assistance?” he asked.

Sydney went on to explain that she needed information from Sark on Alice. She informed him that she was a former employee of SD-2; Sydney was particularly interested in Alice’s family, specifically a sister with the first initial of A.

“I’ll do my best. Meet me at the following coordinates. I’ll text message them to you. Are you ready?”

“Ready,” she responded.

“Okay, in one hour then,” Sark reminded her.

The phone call then ended as mysteriously as it began.

Present . . .

Sydney found the location to which Sark had instructed her to go. It was a simple turnout on a highway, so that both could hide in plain view. When she arrived, she found that he was no where to be found. “Damn!” she cursed aloud. Sydney was certain that Sark had set her up and now she wasted time; precious time that Vaughn did not have to spare. Just then, she heard the noise; it was the noise of a car engine approaching.

Turning her head to the left, Sydney saw him; the devil with which she would have to deal; Sark. He drove of all things a black Ford Thunderbird convertible. Leave to him to pick something so . . . dark. Holding her anger, she leaned against her car as Sark parked his vehicle near hers.

“Agent Bristow,” he said as he exited his car. “So good to see you again,” he offered, extending his hand in a gesture of friendship.

“Get the point,” Sydney hissed as she kept her hands in her pockets. She had no patience.

“Very well, here is the information you requested,” he handed her an envelope with an address inside.

“Apparently, your Miss Alice had a sister by the name of Annette. This is the address of Alice’s home.”

“She had a home,” Sydney interrupted.

“This is her family home, not the one she used as a cover,” Sark informed her. He went on to explain that Alice and Annette were quite close, as close as sisters could ever be. When Alice committed suicide, Annette seemed to take it quite hard.

“My contacts lost track of her for quite some time . . . until . . . “

“Until what?” Sydney pressed.

“Until she contacted me,” he responded.

“YOU spoke with her?” Sydney did her best to contain her mixture of rage and surprise.

“Yes, Annette and I used to . . . “Sark paused for a moment; apparently he was at a loss for words.

“What?” Sydney pressed further.

“. . . Be lovers,” he answered with a sense of finality in his voice.

“So why are you helping me then?” she responded.

Sark did not speak for a moment; a broodiness began to seep from his otherwise stone-cold exterior. Then, he spoke. “Agent Bristow, given the fact that you have little time for your mission as I understand it, I suggest you take that pretty little body of yours and get the hell out of here. Oh and one more thing,” he shot back and he turned to leave.

“What?” Sydney asked.

“Tell the OTHER Agent Bristow, the debt has been repaid,” and before Sydney could say anything else, Sark drove off just as quickly as he came.

The directions to the house that Sark had given her took another forty-five minutes off of the precious time that Vaughn had left to live. Upon arriving at the house, Sydney made a quick check of the layout of the grounds surrounding the abode. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. Proceeding around to the back of the house, Sydney noticed a sliding door with the curtains drawn open.

As she approached, she caught sight of a vision that both sickened and horrified her; Vaughn was seated in a chair, his head slumped forward. She couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. Sydney quickly opened the sliding door and stepped inside.

“Vaughn,” she called softly; no answer came from his lips.

It wasn’t until she was behind Vaughn that Sydney noticed two small pools of blood beneath the chair. She stepped to the right side of the chair, crouched down until she was at eye level with him, and gently lifted Vaughn’s head. At that moment, Sydney realized the cause of the blood beneath Vaughn’s chair; his wrists had been slit. They were still bleeding. Placing her hand to her mouth, Sydney did her best to maintain her composure. Annette must have wanted Vaughn to suffer much the way Alice did when she had committed suicide. This woman was seriously disturbed. Sydney did not have time to search for Annette. All that she did know was that she had to get Vaughn out of here as quickly as possible.

However, before she could do anything, Sydney felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed again the back of her neck.

“Welcome Agent Bristow,” Annette taunted as she struck Sydney with the butt of her gun; sending her to the floor unconscious.

Annette walked around Sydney’s crumpled heap and over to Vaughn. She pulled his head up by his hair. “Time to get ready for the final curtain call . . . gotta hurry, cause time’s up!”
 
“Sydney?”

“Vaughn?”

Slowly, Sydney’s eyes fluttered until they were fully opened. As she looked around her surroundings, confusion filled her mind. The last thing she remembered was seeing Vaughn slumped over in a chair. Now, things were different. She was back in her apartment. Everything was as it should be . . . or was it?

“Hey sleepy head, sleep well?” Vaughn asked.

“Um . . . yeah . . .” she answered; still not exactly sure of what was happening.

“Well, what do you want to do tonight?” he asked in a cheery voice; almost too cheery.

“I . . . uh . . . don’t know . . . maybe a movie?” she replied as she gradually began to sit up from the sofa.

“Ok, sounds good,” he answered. Sydney looked up at Vaughn, confusion still evident in her eyes. He saw the look she gave him and leaned down until he was at her eye level.

“Are you okay?” he asked; concern evident in his voice.

“This isn’t . . .” Sydney began, but before she could finish, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” he told her as he stood up.

Sydney looked around her apartment, still trying to figure out what the hell was going on at the moment. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of gunfire. Sydney immediately shot up and ran to the door. As she reached the entrance, she saw Vaughn; he was lying on the ground.

“VAUGHN!” she cried out. He lied in a crumpled heap in the entrance way to the apartment. Standing over him was none other than Alice! She smiled, dropped the gun, turned and ran. Sydney was in shock. Leaning down, she cradled Vaughn in her arms, doing her best to hold back the tears.

“Vaughn,” she whispered as she saw blood oozed from his wound.

“Sydney,” he coughed.

“I love you,” she confessed.

“I . . .” he never finished his sentence; he closed his eyes. Sydney could feel no pulse.

“No . . . no . . . this can’t be . . . I was going to save . . .” she cried softly to herself. “Vaughn . . . Vaughn . . . VAUGHN!”


“Sydney?” Vaughn called out.

“Vaughn?” she answered, the confusion thoroughly muddling her thoughts. She tried to stand up but instead found both her legs chained to wall. It was all or dream or rather a nightmare. Collecting her thoughts, Sydney did an initial assessment of her surroundings despite the cold darkness that seemed to envelope almost every corner of her location. As could figure out, she was in some sort of cellar. Although darkness managed to cover most areas of the cellar, Sydney still managed to catch a hint of light. However there seemed to be something blocking the remainder of the light. Sydney then realized it was Vaughn.

“Vaughn?” she called out.

“Sydney? Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m okay, how are you feeling?” she replied.

“Okay . . . a little weak,” he answered, the weakness evident in his voice. “How’s your head?”

“My head?” Sydney replied; and then it all came back to her; Alice, Annette, the house and then . . . the blow she received. Gently raising her left hand, Sydney probed her head until she found the spot where Annette had struck her, wincing in response.

“Damn!” she groaned.

Vaughn heard her moan, “Sydney?”

“I’m okay. Look, we’ve got to find a way to get you out of here,” Sydney began but not before she was interrupted by a voice from above.

“Well, isn’t this a pretty sight? The two people responsible for my sister’s death are finally going to meet their TOGETHER! Isn’t that romantic?” Annette gloated as she stood at the top of the stairs of the cellar. The sarcasm dripped from her voice like blood on a dagger.

Sydney knew she had to buy time. It was the only way she would have a chance to save Vaughn. “Annette, Michael and I didn’t kill your sister. She worked for the enemy.”

“You’re lying! She worked for the CIA!” Annette screamed in response/

“No, I used to believe exactly what you did,” Sydney replied. “But, I learned that SD-6 and SD-2 were all a part of the Alliance. They were a part of the very organization that your sister thought she was bringing down.”

“She was simple analyst. She worked at a desk. The day she lost her job; it came not long after dad died. Then you,” Annette accused as she pointed her finger at Vaughn, “You went and dumped her! You dumped her for this woman, this b****?” Annette began to descend the stair, her eyes focused on Sydney.

“No.” Vaughn chose this moment to speak up.

“No?” Annette turned so that she was now facing Vaughn.

“Your sister was not as innocent as you thought Annette.” Vaughn needed to buy time. He glanced over to Sydney, hoping she would see what he was trying to do.

She did see him and slowly moved to pick the locks on the chains that bound her to the floor. Sydney knew that she needed to work quickly as time was running out for Vaughn. She watched as Vaughn began to engage Annette, taking her attention away from Sydney.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“She was a field agent for SD-2,” Vaughn told her.

“You’re lying!” she screamed.

“I was assigned to get close to her, to find out what she knew. We knew each other growing up. I hated to do it, but Alice knew exactly what she was doing. She knew that SD-2 was part of the Alliance,” Vaughn was about to continue further when he saw that Annette was beginning to break.

She placed her hands over her ears, like a child not wanting to hear news that she knew was true. “YOU’RE LYING! SHE WAS MY SISTER! SHE WAS MY BIG SISTER! I LOVED HER! SHE LOVED YOU!”

Vaughn knew that what he was doing . . . was working. Despite an overwhelming desire to succumb to the blackness that beckoned him, he continued on, “Annette, I’m sorry. When I became Sydney’s handler, she provided Intel that was far better than what I could have ever hoped to discover from you sister. I didn’t know that when I broke things off she would be that hurt.”

“You’re lying! You used her Michael! And when you were done, you tossed her away like a dirty rag. You deserve to die! Don’t you know that the money you left her couldn’t buy happiness? You destroyed her soul. Do you hear me? YOU SHOULD DIE YOU BASTARD!”

Vaughn could see that Sydney still had not freed herself. He needed to buy time, but maybe, he needed to save Sydney’s life. Allowing his head to fall down, he spoke, “Then kill me, but leave Sydney alone. She doesn’t deserve to die. Please Annette, do it . . . for Alice’s sake? I’m the one who hurt Alice, not Sydney.

Please?” he asked, a pleading look seen in his eyes.

“I . . . uh . . .” Annette stammered, distracted for a moment. That was all that the time Sydney needed. She had finally freed herself and now lunged forward, in an effort to subdue Annette. Sydney delivered a blow to Annette’s stomach, knocking her off balance and sending her to the ground.

“Where’s the antidote?” Sydney snarled; she was tired of playing games.

However, before she got the answer she wanted, Annette found a piece of scrap wood that was nearby and delivered a blow to Sydney’s head; dazing her but only for a moment. Annette scrambled to make her escape. She began running up the stairs, knowing the Sydney would be right behind her. Sydney did try to follow but was stopped dead in her tracks when Annette turned around. Sydney was now staring down at the barrel of a gun. In one hand, Annette held the gun, and in the other hand she held a small vial.

“Stop! Or I’ll drop it! This is the antidote to the poison. Here in my hands is Agent Michael Vaughn’s life. And well, what do you know, only twenty minutes left.”

Sydney turned back for a minute and saw that Vaughn had now begun to go into convulsions. His time was almost up. It was now or never. Without warning and as if possessed by some unseen force, Sydney made one final leap for the antidote. Annette was clearly shocked, dropping the vial in the process. Sydney watched as it fell to the ground, breaking into several pieces and without all hope.

The shattering of the vial was the final straw for Sydney. Like a crazed animal, she made one final charge at Annette. However, Annette had recovered from her momentary shock and was ready. She fired the gun, hitting Sydney in the stomach and sending her crashing back down the stairs. Annette descended the stairs once more, preparing to finish the job.

“Goodbye,” Annette said as she raised the gun at Sydney’s head.

Sydney closed her eyes, preparing for the end, “Vaughn, I’ll find you . . .” she cried out one last time.

There was a single shot.

Yet, Sydney was still alive.

Annette was not.

Someone shot her.

Looking up, confusion returning to her mind, Sydney did her best to see where the shot came from; she could only make out a shadow, which stood at the top of the stairs. Although she could not see the figure, she heard the voice. It was distinctly . . . British.

“Jack?” the voice spoke. Apparently, he was speaking to someone he had called on a cell phone.

“You’d better come soon. Sydney’s shot and the other item has almost expired. “Do you have the coordinates I gave you?” he asked.

There was a slight pause, the other person responding, Sydney assumed.

“Good! Then I am no longer in your debt. However, should you ever need my services again, please do not hesitate to call me. I’m sure we can always work out some arrangement.”

With those words, the figure turned and left. Sydney was alone with Vaughn. Slowly, she inched her way over to him, crawling across the debris and through the pain that now ripped through her body. As she got closer to Vaughn, Sydney saw something that brought a smile to her face; she found a small piece of the broken vial. It still had some of what Sydney assumed would be the antidote.

“Michael?” she called out, realizing she’d actually called him by his first name. “I think we have a chance.” She continued make her way over to Vaughn, where she found that he was still strapped to his chair. The chair had toppled over as a result of Vaughn’s last convulsion. Sydney cut the ropes that bound him; allowing him to collapse into Sydney’s arms. She was about to say more, of how she loved him; of what he meant to her; how he was her light in this time of darkness.

Unfortunately, she never got the chance to say all that she wanted. The darkness that had battled with Sydney for so long, had finally won.

____________________________________________________________________

I'll get the finale up sometime tonight or tomorrow.

LaFemme
 
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