When Fear Lives by Lou

Rated "R for gore, blood and swearing!"

When Fear Lives

Chapter One

He hurried through the building's numerous dark corridors, heading for a very important meeting. He was already over ten minutes late but didn't care. His worst fears had materialized. Sydney had been captured during a mission.

Her contact had just phoned him, telling him that she hadn't reached her final destination of Moscow, where she was supposed to pick up a valuable piece of new equipment that could help them to take down SD-6. Her contact, a man called Peter Fenwick, was supposed to take her to the building where it was hidden. He'd waited for two hours, and she hadn't shown up. He phoned Vaughn as soon as it was safe to do so.

He knew that she made it into the country, but after that, he had no idea what had happened to her. He reached the de-briefing room, and after knocking quietly on the dark wooden door, he strode boldly into the room.

"Sorry I'm late, sir." He said, taking his seat.

"Where is she?" came the gruff reply from his superior officer, a serious man called White. "She was supposed to be back here six hours ago."

"I don't know, sir." He replied honestly, trying desperately to keep his feelings from showing on his face. The helplessness he was feeling was great.

"What do you mean 'I don't know'?" he asked impatiently.

"We believe she may have been captured, possibly by agents of the Russian government."

To say those words had cost him a great deal. The people he worked with would never know it, indeed, they could never know that he was in love with Sydney. His words where greeted by a dead silence. For a moment nobody spoke as they tried to absorb the enormity of what he'd just said. His superior officer was the first to find his voice

"Do you mean K-directorate?"

"We've. we don't know, sir. We just don't know."

"Does SD-6 know she's been captured?"

"By now, they will know, sir. She was due back there last night." Just then, the black phone in the middle of the table rang, startling them all. Vaughn glanced at White, then picked it up. He listened to the slightly staticy voice, then took the phone away from his ear and held it out for White to take.

"It's Peter Fenwick, sir. He wants to speak to you."

"They've found her." His superior officer's three short words sent a beam of fragile hope rushing through Vaughn's body. "She's still in Moscow. They've requested we bring a medical team with us."

"He said that the building she's in is very heavily guarded, so you'll all carry weapons. We'll get you security clearance for the airports. He's going to meet you at Moscow airport."

"Does SD-6 know where she is?" Vaughn asked, praying to every god he could think of that they didn't.

"No and that's how we're going to keep it." White said. "We did not locate Miss Bristow, but found another young woman instead. Her name is Chloe Hewlett. Is that clear?"

He was greeted by a wave of nods. "Okay, then. You all know the drill. Pack up and move out!"

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Chapter Two

Sydney was very cold and stiff. Her head hurt, and when she reached up to touch it, she discovered that her wrists where bound together with thick metal chains. The floor she was sleeping on was damp. Through a minute gap in her blindfold, she could see her breath misting the air as she breathed out of her nose. There was tape over her mouth. She could also see that she was in some kind of building, though she didn't know where. Her last memory was of slipping the tiny dummy sensor into her bag, ready to swap for the real one.

She jumped slightly as heavy footsteps approached her, watching warily as they walked past her vastly reduced field of vision. She heard the man- she knew it was a man from the footsteps - pick something up and turn round. The next thing she knew, she had been roughly pulled to her feet. She barely managed to stop herself form crying out in pain as he yanked roughly on her stiff muscles.

Her right ankle gave way under her, and she would have fallen had it not been for her captor's rough grip on her arm, which was wrenched painfully as she fell. She was dragged into another, larger room. She knew it was larger, because the sound of their footsteps echoed.

After exactly 12 steps, she was pushed roughly to the floor. The tape covering her mouth was roughly ripped off. She gently touched her sore lips with her tongue. The blindfold was left on, but she could see a tiny amount of the room. Enough to realize that she was in deep trouble.

"Who are you? What the hell do you want with me?" she asked hoarsely. She would have gladly traded all the secrets in the world for a glass of iced water.

Her captor's only answer was to backhand her hard across the face. She tasted blood and knew he'd split her lip as he'd hit her. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and smiled grimly. Her hands weren't free, but there was enough slack in the chain to give her some freedom of movement.

"Go to hell! Until you answer my questions I'm not telling you anything!" she spat.

His booted foot lashed out, hitting her squarely in the chest. For a few awful seconds, she couldn't breath because of the pain. It felt like he'd broken everyone of her ribs. The moment passed, and she took a deep breath, feeling her ribs protest. God, that was bad, she thought shakily. If she died in this god-forsaken place, it would be on her feet, not on her knees. She vowed to herself that she would not break down in front of him.

Her clothes where torn and dirty, covered in dried blood and dust. She was wearing a pair of thin black pants and a light blue silk shirt- perfect for blending in at a semi-formal dinner. They offered her little protection from the bitter cold and damp seeping from the floor. The discomfort of sitting in one position on that floor was almost unbearable.

When he finally spoke, his voice was slow and halting, almost like English wasn't his first language. He had a heavy Belgian accent that, combined with his difficulty with English, made understanding him almost impossible.

"Tell me where the sensor is." He demanded.

Whoa, what, they don't have it by now? She thought in surprise, but she decided to play it safe.

"It's in my bag."

"No. You are lying. It is not." He shifted his position, and asked her again

"Tell me now!"

She didn't answer, didn't know how to. Whatever she said, he was going to think she was lying. She heard him move. Seconds later, she felt the cold sting of a blade along her side. Gasping with pain, she tried to move away from it. Just as she thought that she wasn't going to be able to bare it any longer, he took the blade away from her side.

"Now you tell me?"

Sydney just shook her head, not knowing where the sensor was. It must have fallen out of her bag at some point after she'd been knocked out.

He picked up her hand, examining her well cared for fingernails carefully and she knew what was coming. She tried to pull her hand away from him and failed. She was already weak from lack of sleep, dehydration and blood-loss from the cut he'd inflicted upon her. That combined with the heavy metal chains around her wrists made it almost impossible for her to resist. There wasn't enough slack to get the leverage she needed to pull her hand free.

He started with her left thumbnail, gripping it firmly with the pliers and pulled. She screamed as the nail was painfully pulled clear of her thumb. His booted foot connected with the bloody wound on her side and the scream abruptly stopped as the remaining air left her body in a rush. Stars danced around the edge of her vision.

He waited a moment until she'd started to recover and then pulled out another nail. This time she managed not to scream. She was very close to passing out. He pulled out another nail, and still she told him nothing. Instead, she let the darkness take her away from the pain.

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Chapter Three

Vaughn was frantic. Although they'd left for the airport as quickly as they could, bad weather was delaying all the planes. The flight to Moscow had been delayed by almost an hour. Nothing could take off until the storm front cleared. He was seriously thinking about using the private jet, but it's use hadn't been approved for this mission. They where flying out on a public airliner, and back on a military plane.

All around the small lounge area, his men stood in little groups, talking o each other. There where 12 men in total, not including himself. He brought the total up to lucky thirteen. If he had gone around all of the groups, he'd have found they where all talking about the same thing. The same person. Sydney. Everyone who knew her liked her. She was extremely good at her job, nice to talk to and very well respected.

From the first day, when she'd marched into his office and written a million page statement, she'd commanded respect. He had immediately liked her. He didn't know what to call the emotion he felt, but it was something quite close to love. He was desperately worried about her. He also felt a deep sense of guilt. He was the one who'd come up with the counter mission. He could remember his words clearly

"All you need to do is get the sensor from the building and swap it. We get the real one. SD-6 get the dummy. It's a piece of cake."

Her own words back had been just as well remembered, stored in his memory, where they would haunt him for ever if they where to late. If she where..

"Is that it? Sounds too good to be true. But what the hell, I could really use an easy mission." She'd laughed as she said them.

He sighed and glared at the electronic board displaying the flight times, as if he could change it. Their flight was still delayed. He swore softly and sipped the cup of Luke-warm coffee in his hand. There was a selection of pastries on a table across the room from him. He spotted his favourite, apple wraps. He also saw Sydney's favourite, croissants. He didn't want anything to eat, but couldn't take his eyes of the croissants. The last time he'd seen Sydney, she'd been eating one.

The board behind him beeped as the information on it changed. He turned and his first smile of the day passed across his face. The Moscow flight was boarding. They'd finally got a go. Around him, the agents he was working with scrambled around to gather their stuff. He picked up his heavy black bag and slung it across his shoulder. He grabbed his briefcase in the other hand and walked out of the lounge. He had a plane to catch.

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Chapter Four

She woke up alone. She was hurt quite badly, she knew. She struggled to sit up, then wrapped her wounded fingers with her already bloody shirt. Another man, one she didn't know came and dragged her to her feet. Her chains and blindfold had been removed while she was unconscious. It was a bad sign. If the where letting her see their faces, the meant to kill her. They wouldn't let her go if she could identify them. He was supporting most of her weight. He didn't speak to her, but silently dragged her through a maze of corridors.

"You should tell him what he wants to know." He said, not too unkindly, as they stopped outside a metal door.

"Can.Can't tell him what I don't know." She said painfully.

He didn't answer her, just dragged her along in silence. The building they where in had been abandoned for years, she could tell from the dust and dirt everywhere she looked. She was shaking with the strain of walking. Finally, they came to a door. He opened it and pushed her through.

She landed heavily on the floor with a groan of pain. The heavy metal door slammed she was left alone in the cold, dark room. She stayed like that for quite a while, until the pain in her ribs subsided to a more manageable level. From what she could see of the door, she thought that the room had once been a large freezer. She could hear her own heart beating in the silence. Her breathing was loud.

She sat with her back to the farthest wall from the door, huddled back into the corner. The wall was metal, and cold on her back, but she was glad it was there. It made her feel just a little bit safer. She had never been so scared in her life. Eventually, she fell asleep, curled up around her injured side. She guessed that she'd been asleep for about four hours, from the way the small amount of light coming into the small room had changed.

She thought, This could be it. I could die today, and know one would know that I was dead. For the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to be vulnerable and hated it. The feeling crashed over her so suddenly it left her shaking. She wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to keep warm. Cold tears ran down her face, but she made move to wipe them away.

Time passed and she didn't notice. The door was opened and a glass of water was put down inside the room. She didn't notice. In her mind, she could only see images of Vaughn. The flashed through her mind like a mental photo album. In some he was smiling, in others grim. The most prominent one was of him dead. She knew he would find her. He'd never let her down yet. She focused on the image of his face in her mind and a new feeling surfaced.

Determination. Determination not to let them win. She wanted to live. She wanted to see Vaughn and her friends again. Most of all, she wanted to take SD-6 down. They had taken Danny away from her. She wasn't going to give them her life as well.

Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could make out what looked like a large axe on the wall next to the door. She stood up carefully and with one hand resting lightly on the wall, walked over too it. It was an axe. Satisfied that she had a way out once she gathered some information, she walked slowly back to her corner and sat down on the cold floor. She was exhausted from the short walk.

She'd seen the glass of water, but knew better than to drink it. It could have been laced with anything. She wanted so desperately to pretend that she was too valuable to kill, the push the thought that the water may be poisoned and drink it. But she didn't. Her through training prevented her from drinking so much as a drop of the water.

She blinked at the dark a few times, trying to collect her thoughts. Her ribs and hand throbbed horribly in the cold. She needed to plan what she was going to do. From the little of the building she'd seen, she didn't know where the exit was. She was just going to have to wait for help.

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Chapter Five

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Chapter Six

In the middle of the busy airport terminal, Vaughn's cell phone rang. He cursed as her tried to hold two bags and pull his cell phone out of his jacket pocket without dropping his bags. He managed to get it out and yanked the aerial out with his teeth as he walked through a set of glass doors.

"Vaughn here." He said.

"It's not K-directorate. One of their agents was found murdered this morning. His ID and passport had been taken. They think that one of the group is using that to travel with." White said. "The body is in our morgue. We're examining it for any trace evidence that would tell us who you're dealing with."

"Then who is it? Do we know who we're dealing with?" Vaughn asked in equal parts frustration and relief.

"We believe that it may be an off shoot of the.." A crackle of static interrupted whatever White was saying. Vaughn glanced behind him and saw a metal girder. He walked away from it and was glad to hear the static disappear.

"You instructions are the same. You may use as much force as necessary. If you can get him alive, we would like to interview the leader of this group. Fenwick won't be meeting you at the airport. He missing. We don't know if he was taken after he phoned us. "

"If he's there, do you want him brining back?"

"Yes. We're sending you a map with the location where she's being held."

"Damn!" The building had interfered with the signal again, this time cutting him off completely. He'd been about to ask where they where getting picked up.

He put the phone back into his pocket and hurried to catch up with his team, whom where all waiting a polite distance away, chatting about the mission.

They all quietened down and looked at him as he approached. When he had their total attention, he started to speak.

"It's not k-directorate." He said. "Our instruction are the same. We get in, rescue Sydney and get out. They want the leader of the group. We have been authorised to kill if we need to. Come on, or we'll miss our ride." He said and started walking to the exit of the large airport.

Once they where outside, they quickly found their ride. It was a large, black van, the only vehicle that they'd been able to find that could seat all thirteen of them. They all piled in, and with Vaughn driving, headed for the outskirts of Moscow.

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Chapter Seven

When I heard that Syd had been captured, I almost jeopardised the mission I was on in my haste to get back into the USA, where I could at least feel useful. I was so worried that my team-mates thought that I'd lost my mind. All it took was three little words -Sydney's been captured- to splinter my world.

Instead of being able to look for her, I was stuck in some God-forsaken corner of Borneo, waiting for a shipment of black market small arms to reach our contact. He, of course was late to the drop off point with the only weapon in the shipment we where interested in.

By the way, the weapon was a small laser gun capable of cutting through a solid steel door in less than ten seconds. In the right hands, it would prove to be a hugely useful in taking down SD-6. In the wrong hands it would be deadly.

But I digress. My thoughts have suddenly developed a worrying tendency to wander. After that agent, who's name I can't remember, told me that my daughter was missing, all I wanted to do was abandon the mission and find her. I wanted to take her into my arms and tell her the truth about everything. To tell her that I loved her. To know that she was safe.

The words 'please, God let her be alive' keep running through my head like a manta. Oh, I know only too well that she's strong, that she's tough. She's had to be, with all that her jobs have put her through. Even after SD- 6 killed Danny, she tried to put on a brave face. Tried to keep the world from knowing exactly how much loosing him had hurt. I think a part of her died that day, when she found him. It's something I hoped she'd never have to go through.

I know that she's been captured before, but this time something felt wrong. No, wrong isn't the right word. Everything felt, well, the only word that remotely covers it is ominous. There's something big going on, and I don't know if I'm going to see my daughter alive again.

Instead of looking for her, I'm sitting on a plane, bound for Cairo. God help the men that took her. Because if I don't kill them, Vaughn will. He loves her, I know. And I know she loves him. But they can't act on that love yet, wont be able to until SD-6 is destroyed. For good. I intend to be there for that day.

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Chapter Eight

Question after question bombarded her. She didn't know how to answer most of them. After each question that she failed to answer, he would hit her. She's given up trying to defend herself, because he would just wait until her guard dropped and then hit her. She hurt all over from his blows.

A few stray tears slid down her face, mixing with the blood there from her broken nose. They'd been in the room for nearly an hour, and she hadn't told him anything useful. She watched him as he walked out of the room, slamming the door after himself. She sighed, glad to be alone for a few minutes.

She raised her arm slightly, wondering where the water that was running down it had come from. It took her a few seconds to work out that it was her blood. She was so tired that she didn't really care. It had been over 20 hours since she'd last had something to eat, and almost 12 since she drank anything. Only the discomfort of the hard, cold floor and the chains was keeping her awake.

"Are you a complete asshole, or is it just a part time thing?" she asked conversationally as he came back into the room. His only answer was to hit her in the face.

"Full-time. Thought so." She said, wiping blood for the corner of her mouth with her wrist. The sarcasm wasn't borne of defiance, but fear. She was using it as a defence mechanism.

When Artis, as she'd learned he was called, had come back into the room, he'd brought a small silver key with him. He used it to unlock the chains around her wrists.

"Now we will fight." He said as he motioned for her to get to her feet. "if you do not fight, you die." He added, looking meaningfully at a guard standing next to the door. The gun was plainly visible in his hands.

"Okay. I'll fight." She said.

She stood up, finding that her legs weren't quite as shaky as she'd expected, and faced him. He bowed, and as bowed back uncertainly. After all, it could be a cleverly planned trap.

He made the first move, aiming a punch at her head. She ducked past him, and managed to get in a quick jab as she span past. She jump kicked him in the face, then span as soon as she landed and kicked him in the middle of the back. She hit him with her elbow bent so that the inside of her arm snapped out with stinging force across his face. He lost his balance and had to take a step backward to re-balance himself.

After that one tiny victory, things rapidly changed. He kicked her in the collarbone. The impact knocked her into the wall. It was like being hit by a car. She lay on the floor, too stunned and in too much pain to move. He kicked her in the ribs. A sharp pain started in her ribs where his foot had connected and she knew that he'd broken a few more of her ribs.

Artis kicked her in the stomach. She gasped and curled up from the pain. The pain was still there, but she blocked it out as she got to her feet, willing herself to concentrate only on him. If she didn't, she was as good as dead. He kicked her again, sending her to the floor. She was in no condition to fight, especially against as skilled as opponent as he was.

Artis smiled lazily as he approached her. She watched him warily as she tried to gather the energy to get up, knowing that he was going to do something to her. Knowing that it was going to be bad. He smiled again as she struggled to get to her feet. His foot slammed into her shoulder, sending pain racing through it.

She rolled away from him before his next kick could find it's target, and got painfully to her feet. She had just launched a flying kick when all hell broke loose.

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Chapter Nine

Peter Fenwick knew that he was going to be in deep, deep trouble when he got back home. He'd betrayed his country, a good friend and an innocent girl, all to make money from a black market deal. He'd sold the sensor to a bidder from Iraq to get money for his family. Artis didn't know where the sensor was. He thought that Sydney had managed to hide it somewhere.

Peter was still waiting in Artis's office. On the desk before him, there was a large silver gun, with ammo next to it. He didn't know who it belonged to, but was willing to bet that it was Artis's.

Even from the office, which was quite a distance away from the main room, he could hear sounds of a fight. He shivered with disgust. He'd never liked fighting and had only joined the CIA to get revenge against the terrorist group that had caused his parents death while they where on vacation in Iceland.

Unfortunately, he had a natural aptitude for fighting that the CIA had recognised. They'd sent him out into the field from almost day one. That had been almost ten years ago. He was sick of fighting a war he didn't believe in anymore, but he could only see one way out.

He'd been pressured and blackmailed into helping with Sydney's kidnapping, but at heart, he hadn't wanted to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt anyone. All he'd wanted was payback for his family. Instead, he'd been forced to kill by the people who where supposed to save lives.

He couldn't do it any more, couldn't hurt anymore innocent people like he'd hurt Sydney. He was slowly going mad with the pressures that he faced every day. The gun on the table spoke to him. It offered him an easy way out. He was reaching for it when the door to the office flew open. He yanked his hand back like he'd been burned.

A guard who Peter recognised strode into the room. They had strongly disliked each other from their very first meeting, where Peter had pointed out a flaw in the guard's plan to steal the sensor.

"YOU." He shouted, pointing at Peter. "OUT, NOW!"

Peter got up and left the room so fast that he was tripping over his own feet. He could here a commotion outside the doors and opened them a crack to look through. What he saw shocked him deeply. He closed the door silently as walked quickly away.

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Chapter Ten

Sydney had no time to react as Artis pulled out his gun and fired. The sound seemed to echo endlessly round the room. There was no pain at the bullet entered her body, just terror and the need to get away from him. The pain, she knew would come later. Black dots swam around the edge of her vision. Her legs gave way and she slumped to the floor. Her last thoughts before she passed out where of Vaughn.

When she came round a few minutes later, she knew that she was lying on her back, because she could feel the hard floor under her shoulders. She could also feel something cold and sticky. Oh, god, she thought, that's my blood. She remembered the gunshot, the lancing pain in her stomach.

I'm shot, she thought, shocked. With that thought, the pain began. She knew that she needed help. Her movements where slow and shaky. Her stomach felt like it was on fire. She could feel a sticky wetness there and knew it was her own blood. She was terrified, not of dying, but of leaving Vaughn behind.

Around her, she could hear the sounds of a gunfight. She could also hear Vaughn's voice. Within seconds, the sounds of the gunfight stopped, leaving her to wonder if she'd imagined them.

"Vaughn?" she asked quietly. Vaughn's worried face appeared in her line of sight and she knew that she was safe. He was sure that he'd made no noise, but she still knew that he was there.

Her eyes met his and a silent plea passed from her to him. He nodded and she closed her eyes, trusting him to keep her safe. She was shivering, despite the blanket that had been draped over her lower body. Her face was white and drawn. Vaughn knew that she must be in terrible pain.

A pool of dark looking blood had formed beneath her. He had seen the gun- shot wound below her ribs before he'd been pushed away be another agent, who'd layered as much clean gauze as he could find in their merger first aid packs on the wound.

Vaughn reached into his small bag and pulled out a syringe and a vial of morphine, which had been given to him by the med team. He knew that he shouldn't give her any painkillers until the med team had checked the extent of her injuries, but this was his fault.

He'd got her into the trouble in the first place. If he hadn't sent her on this mission, she would be fine right now. Plus the fact that the medical team where still waiting in the van for the all clear to let them know it was safe for them to enter the building.

He couldn't let her suffer. He gave her the injection. Where her torn and dirty shirt had ridden up, he could see dark bruising on her ribs. There was a deep cut on her left arm that had closed. The skin around it was red and tender, suggesting an infection. That wasn't the worst of her more minor injuries. Her right wrist was broken, even he could tell that. The gunshot wound wasn't immediately fatal, but she could still die of blood loss.

A trail of dried blood ran down her face from her nose. Both of her wrists where raw and bleeding. He'd seen more cuts and bruises everywhere he looked. She shifted slightly on the hard floor and he took hold of her trembling hand, which had been lying on her stomach. With his other hand, he brushed her wildly tangled hair off her face.

"Hey," he said gently as her eyes locked onto his.

"Hey." Was all she could manage to say in response, before she gave in to the morphine.

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Chapter Eleven

Peter Fenwick ran through the dusty corridors of the were-house. He'd seen Artis taken down by a quick blow to the head, delivered with much violence by Vaughn, who's eyes had been blazing with fury. He'd also seen Sydney get shot by Artis, thought that she was dead, killed by his actions. In that moment, he blamed himself for everything that had happened.

Guilt was the only thing he felt as he ran, pushing himself to get as much distance between himself and that room as possible. His throat burned as he gasped, trying to pull air into his straining lungs. The guilt pushed out every other emotion he should have been feeling. In his mind, all he could see was image after image of people he knew dead and dying. It was safe to say that he'd lost his mind.

As he ran, he remembered the shiny silver gun. He remembered the promise it had made to him. The promise of an easy way out if he needed one. He made his way to the office where he'd seen the gun and found it to be empty, much to his relief. He walked in and shut the door behind him with a little bang. He also flicked off the lights as he walked past, dropping the room into semi darkness.

The gun was still on the desk, along with the ammo. He picked both up and sat down in the torn and dusty chair behind the desk. Moving slowly, he loaded the gun and put it to his head, against his temple. That gun was cold and heavy in his hand. He closed his eyes as he pressed the cold metal against his head.

As his finger tightened on the trigger, tears began to flow down his face, leaving clean streaks in their wake. He was absolutely terrified by what he was going to do. His finger tightened even more on the trigger, and with a single bullet, he bid goodbye to the world. The gun fell un-noticed to the floor, where it landed with a clatter of metal on stone. The sound hung heavily in the silence.

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Chapter Twelve

"Sydney, wake up, please." Vaughn begged. He'd been repeating the same words over and over again for the last hour, since she'd come out of surgery. He got up, and walked round the room. The movement helped to ease his cramped muscles a little.

As he passed the end of her bed, he picked up her chart and started reading it. He sucked in a deep breath as he saw the full extent of her injuries. She had a broken wrist, broken ribs, a punctured lung and cuts and bruises all over her body. The doctor who'd written the chart had also noted that her fingernails had been pulled out.

He put the chart back and walked back to the chair where he'd been sitting. After he'd got his own minor cuts and bruises looked at, he'd come directly to her room. He took her hand and watched her face for any movement.

She had an oxygen mask on her face. Beneath the mask, her face was covered in small cuts and bruises. A nurse walked soundlessly into the room through another door and adjusted the IV line, injecting what he suspected where pain killing drugs. He sat down in the hard plastic chair next to her bed.

He'd been sitting there for a few hours when her voice startled him. "What happened?" she asked groggily. Her voice came out weak and shaky. He reached over and gently took the oxygen mask off her face, letting her talk more easily. Her side felt like it was on fire. She knew that if she dared to look, the whole of her body would be covered in cuts and bruises. She hurt all over.

"Artis shot you." Vaughn said simply.

She muttered something under her breath. It sounded a lot like 'bastard'. He smiled at that. That's my girl, he thought.

"The bullet punctured your lung and you lost a lot of blood, but you're gonna be okay."

"Oh," she said, "Damn." He didn't tell her how close the bullet had come to hitting her heart. She smiled at him, then closed her eyes, suddenly tired. He liked the fact at she was smiling.

"Thank you." She said simply.

"What for?" he asked, mystified to what he'd done.

"For getting me out of there." She tried to sit up and gasped when pain ripped through her body. Vaughn adjusted the pillows under her until she was propped up.

"Where are we?" she asked, feeling a little more awake. Vaughn reached over, gently picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, being careful not to disturb the IV needle and line in her wrist. With his other hand, he reached up and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.

"In a CIA run hospital a little south of Moscow." He said, "How do you feel?"

She considered his words of a while "Umm, sore." Was all she finally came up with. "How long have I been here?"

"Almost five days. You where unconscious for most of that time. You also had a fever and spent a day babbling about how we had to change the light bulbs in the room." He paused and cleared his throat "you just got back form surgery about an hour ago. The gunshot wound had reopened."

She frowned a little at that, then asked "What about him? Is he still alive?"

"Yes. He's in custody." Vaughn said quietly. She took the news much better than he expected, saying

"I hope the bastard rots in some hell hole for the rest of his life!"

"Yeah, well, he's got a lot of agents after him. Your dad and I included." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. "Hey, Syd, you have a meeting tomorrow with a shrink. He's called.." His words trailed off as he realised she was asleep. He leaned carefully over and kissed her gently on the mouth before he got up and left the room. He was walking down the long white hall when he say Sydney's doctor.

"Doctor? Can I talk to you?" Vaughn asked. There was something important that he needed to know.

"Sure." The doctor said, and walked a short distance down the hall, where there was a cluster of bright orange plastic chairs. The both sat down.

"Was she ra." Vaughn started to ask.

"No, there was no sign of a sexual assault." The doctor said.

"Thank God." He said and sighed. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the beginning of the mother of all headaches starting.

"Thank you doctor. That was all I wanted to know." Vaughn said and stood up to leave.

"Get some rest. You'll be no use to her in a hospital bed." The doctor said and turned to leave. Vaughn walked the rest of the way to the stairs, and started down them. He was going to interrogate Artis.

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Chapter Thirteen

Vaughn played absently with the bow on the small stuffed toy he'd bought Sydney from the hospital gift shop. It was a tiny brown and white giraffe, who he'd promptly christened George. He was walking down towards Sydney's private room. In his other hand was a stack of magazines that his sister's friend had donated, for a 'good cause'. She didn't know what the good cause was. He knew that she was going to be bored while she was stuck at the hospital.

He was waiting outside her room while she talked to the psychiatrist, who'd just gone into the room.

--Inside Sydney's room--

"Hi, Sydney. I'm doctor Lowe." He spoke carefully and quietly, as if she would break if he raised his voice.

She looked at him as if he had two heads. "Why are you talking like that?" she asked in disbelief. "I'm not crazy just because some asshole locked me up and hurt me!"

"I'm a psychiatrist." He said, as if that explained everything. "We are worried about you. You need to talk about what happened to you."

"Look, doctor, with all due respect, I'm not the one who needs a psychiatrist. I didn't do this to myself, you know."

"I know that." He agreed quietly, looking at his hands. She was the first patient who'd spoken to him like that.

"Then why the hell do you wanna talk to me?" she snapped. The psychiatrist raised his hands in surrender and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

"Can I talk to her?" Vaughn asked him as he passed.

"Yep. I'm not getting anywhere." He said and walked away. Vaughn fought down an urge to smack him round the back of his blond head as he passed.

Vaughn found the psychiatrist's attitude extremely annoying. He was pressuring Sydney into talking when she obviously wasn't ready. He walked quietly into the room, like the psychiatrist had just moments before. Sydney was sitting on the hard bed with her back to him.

She flinched involuntarily as he touched her arm. He pulled his hand away, hurt even though he knew she hadn't done it on purpose. He knew that the time she spent with Artis must have been harrowing for her. He'd seen the physical damage that Artis had inflicted upon her, knew of some of the mental torture he'd put her through.

He still didn't know it all, wouldn't unless one of them talked, but they where locked in an un-easy pact. She wouldn't talk about it because the memories where still too painful, too raw for her to deal with. He wouldn't talk about it because he knew what he'd done would get him locked up for life- or worse.

"Hey, Syd." He said.

"Hi." She replied flatly

"How are you feeling today?" Vaughn asked, desperately trying to make conversation. She lifted one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug.

"Maybe you should lie back down?" Vaughn said. He was surprised as she obediently swung her legs onto the bed and lay back down.

"Oh, I brought you some things." He picked the magazines and stuffed giraffe up of the chair, where he'd put them when he first came into the room. He put the magazines down on the bedside table and passed her George. She smiled slightly and started to cry.

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Chapter Fourteen

Vaughn looked at her blankly for a second, wondering why she was crying, then sat on the bed and took her into his arms. Her tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt and through to his skin.

He murmured words of comfort until her sobs had died down a little.

"Syd? What's wrong, sweetie?" he asked, deeply concerned. "Did I do something wrong?"

She shook her head against his wet shoulder. He smoothed her hair, and asked "Then what is it?"

"I.I don't know." She said through her tears. "When you gave my that toy, I wished. I wanted."

"You wanted what?" he gently prompted her.

"I wanted a normal life. I wanted to be with you." She said quickly, but quietly, "I think that I love you." She said.

He was so shocked by her words that any chance of him being able to form a coherent sentence was slim. His mouth worked for a moment, but no words came out. Sydney took his reaction wrong, assuming that he was upset by her words. More tears flowed down her face.

"I'm sorry. I should never have told you that. I'm really sorry." She said and pushed away from him and looked at the polished floor, embarrassed by her admission. She was moving carefully, aware that every movement pulled the stitches holding her still healing wound together.

"No, it's okay. I'm not upset or angry, Syd. I want to be with you too. I wanted to be with you since the first time we met." He spoke sincerely, keeping eye contact with her. She held his gaze and he saw her eyes widen slightly with surprise.

"What? That's great!" She said, a huge smile beginning to spread across her face. It slowly faded as she thought of something

"But we can't be together because of SD-6." She said sadly.

A wicked smile crossed Vaughn's face. "They think you're dead." He said.

She paled suddenly and he grabbed her arm, supporting her weight. As he gently lowered her back onto the bed, she moaned softly.

"Syd?"

She didn't answer him. His anxious finger danced over the transparent skin at her wrist, feeling for a pulse. He couldn't find one.