 Deliver Me * “All of my life, I’ve been in hiding Wishing there was someone just like you Now that you’re here, now that I’ve found you I know that you’re the one to pull me through…” * :: Bali : 2002 :: “You in?” “Just a second…” Sydney waited for the descrambler to give her the security code. The electric panel on the wall beeped, lighted up green, and opened the door to her left. Taking the descrambler, she walked into the lab, glancing around. “Vaughn, I’m in.” “Okay.” She heard him breathe out, and smiled, wondering if it was as hot in L.A. as it was in Indonesia. Wondered if Vaughn felt warmer when he heard her voice (like what happens to me when I hear his). “To your left, there should be a metal filing cabinet.” Sydney turned. “Got it.” She walked over to it. “Drawer?” “Second from the top.” Sydney opened it and glanced inside. She paused. “Uh… Vaughn?” “Yeah?” “It’s empty.” She looked around her, worried. “Is it meant to be empty?” “No…” Vaughn paused. “We know it’s in the second drawer. Reach in. There could be a fake bottom.” Sydney knocked on the bottom of the drawer. It sounded hollow, and she nodded before realizing that Vaughn couldn’t see her. Duh. “Yep,” she acknowledged. “Fake bottom.” “Good,” Vaughn declared. “Okay. It’s in there that you should find the key to the drawer on the far side of the lab. There, you’ll find the files and the VT-44.” Sydney grabbed the key after pulling out the false bottom and raced to the other end of the room. Opening the only drawer with a lock on it, she grabbed the file folder marked ‘Virus VT-44’ and the vial with the same label. “Got them.” Sydney pulled out her small camera and photographed the files, swapped the vial with the dummy copy, and locked the drawer, running back to the filing cabinet to replace the key. Too easy. “All set,” she said through the earpiece. “I’m out of here.” “Good on ya, Syd.” She could almost hear Vaughn smile, and she allowed herself a grin at the thought of him in the dark CIA Field Ops room, green and blue computer lights flickering around him. She was already looking forward to seeing him again, even though she’d only left L.A. the day before. She sighed as she walked quickly out the door, pressing a button on the security panel to close it again and give the appearance that nothing had happened. She was jogging quietly down the hallway when she heard voices. She froze, pressing herself against the wall, and listened to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. Men. At least three of them, around the corner from her. And judging by their angry tones, they weren’t assembling for a simple security check. Sydney started to creep backwards down the hall, sticking to the wall, trying to remain as silent as possible. The descrambler fell to the floor. Sydney’s eyes widened, and she stooped to pick it up. How the hell did that happen?! She looked at her jacket. Open pocket. Right. Great going, Sydney. She fumed silently, and prepared herself for what was obviously going to come next. The voices stopped (that’s not a good sign) so she chose a direction (forwards) and began to move quickly. The three men came quickly around the corner, and one of them yelled, pointing at her. “Situ!” He shouted what Sydney expected meant ‘there’. Her Indonesian may have been rusty, but her flight reflex was anything but that. She turned and sprinted down the hall, her pounding footsteps echoing along with the men’s behind her as she turned right into another corridor. “Syd?” Vaughn’s voice asked in her ear. “What’s going on?” (I love his voice) “They’re chasing me,” Sydney panted out. “But there’s a window; I’m going for it.” She sprinted faster towards the end of the hallway, praying she didn’t break too many bones on her way out. “Syd, don’t. You’re three floors up –” “No other way.” Sydney stopped at the window, trying to open it. Locked. She stood back and kicked her booted foot through the glass, realizing that the footsteps behind her were much closer, and the men were still yelling at her. “Perhentian!” Stop. She knew that one. Glancing out the window, she was thankful to see a ledge. She climbed out, keeping to the cold, stone wall, and sidestepped her way to the corner of the building. The men were arguing behind her, most likely about who was going to follow her, and she shook her head in disgust as she jumped from the ledge to the roof below. She started moving again after she'd allowed her feet a few seconds to react to the shock of the drop. Leaping again, she landed on top of an empty bus, and then she jumped down to the dirt road, pain shooting up through her legs as she got up hurriedly and ran off. “Okay. I’m free.” Sydney smiled a few minutes later as she raced down the road, her hair whipping back from her face in the hot air. “You’re amazing.” Words she’d heard from Vaughn before, but for some reason, meaning more to her now. Meaning so much more to her now. She smiled wider, feeling better than she had in weeks. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He laughed, and she closed her eyes for a second, imagining how he looked at that moment. How he always looked when he laughed. (And I love his smile) “Thank you, Vaughn,” she said, running around a corner and slowing down slightly. She was silent for a moment as she thought of her next words. “You pull me through.” There was a pause. “It’s my pleasure, Sydney.” She bit her lip. She wanted to see him, to be near him, to hold him. All this time, and she still wanted nothing more than to feel the heat of his body next to hers. (Anywhere) She took a short breath. “I’ll see you when I get back.” She switched off the transmitter and continued running, looking up at the starry sky as she passed the small buildings at the side of the road. She smiled. :: * “All of my life, I was in hiding Wishing there was someone just like you Now that you’re here, now that I’ve found you I know that you’re the one to pull me through…” * Sydney couldn’t breathe. Vaughn fell to the ground, his mouth open in shock, and she ran back around the car to pick him up, to get him back, hoping he was overreacting, that it was nothing but a scrape, that he hadn’t been shot anywhere fatal. Everything passed through her mind – everyone who’d died because of her. Danny, Will, Francie, Jay… she couldn’t lose Vaughn. (Please, God. Just once. Please. Give me Vaughn.) He was on the ground, his eyes closed in pain, clutching his calf. (Yes) Sydney almost smiled through her gasps of breath as she reached down and touched Vaughn’s face, the slight stubble scratching her fingertips. “Come on, Vaughn,” she choked out. “Quick. Please.” Vaughn looked up at her, his eyes shining, and nodded. Sydney pulled him up by his arm and practically shoved him into the car, slamming the door and racing back around to the driver’s side. Bullets hit the car, and she hoped the CIA had had the intelligence to at least bulletproof the windows. She slid into the car and thrust the key in the ignition, thanking God when she was able o start the car and speed off down the road (to nowhere). She turned a few corners, not quite sure where she was going, driving fast and carefully so as not to jostle Vaughn. Isn’t he hurt enough already? Sydney looked over at him. He was gritting his teeth, both his hands covering his leg, the blood seeping through his faded jeans and slowly dripping onto his shoe. Sydney took a deep shuddering breath. Vaughn’s voice surprised her. “We have to ditch the car.” Vaughn turned to her, his eyes pained but determined. (He’s so unbreakable. Why did he change so much?) He continued. “They might have put a transmitter on it… who knows?” “First, we have to find you a hospital.” Sydney stated, her eyes on the road. “There is no way in hell that I’m letting you stay like this.” Vaughn tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. “I’m fine,” he insisted. Sydney smirked, shaking her head. (I’m scared.) "You still suck at lying." (And please make that still last. Get old. Stay with me. Please.) She glanced in the rear-view before looking quickly at the backseat. “Did Weiss, by any chance, put a first aid kit back there?” “Yeah,” Vaughn replied. Sydney bit her lip. “Can you reach?” Vaughn nodded and turned, reaching under Sydney’s seat with his blood-covered hand for the plastic box. She held her breath as he moved past her, his soft scent curling around her like a blanket, and almost froze when his sweater brushed past her arm as she changed gears. Sydney tried to shake off the spark, driving speedily down the highway as Vaughn pulled up his jeans, wincing, and bandaged his calf as well as a man in the preliminary stages of shock could. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. The bullet seemed to have gone straight through, whilst his shoulder had only been grazed, and Sydney was worried. He’d been shot – twice – and even though she’d taken worse (much worse) he was still just him. (Vaughn.) She didn’t know whether he could take it, and she didn’t know when they’d get to a hospital. The image of them standing close in the kitchen of the almost-safe house fleeted through her mind, but she dismissed it, focusing on what was happening around her. (Focus, Sydney. Focus on now.) Vaughn placed the box back under the seat after cleaning up his shoulder and turned back to the front, his face slightly paler than it had been, small beads of sweat gathering at his temples. Worry seemed really only applicable to old ladies and chartered accountants in Sydney's fast paced world, but as she looked over at him, and was unable to help herself; she worried. Vaughn saw the look on her face and tried to smile again. And again, it was more like a grimace. “I’m fine,” he assured her again. His eyes belied more pain than reassurance, but he continued. “I’ve had worse than this.” (Where? When? Will you ever tell me? I want to know, Vaughn. I really want to know.) Sydney simply nodded, her heart constricting at the thought of Vaughn in more pain than he was now. She didn’t speak, unsure of whether her voice would work, unsure about whether she’d say the right things. Vaughn looked at her intently, his eyes hurt but resolute. “Really, I’ve had worse. I’m fine.” And then, more softly, “Trust me.” So she did. * AN: Song is “Deliver Me” by Sarah Brightman. > Charleston in Pink < Lawrenceville |