 New Haven * Sydney stared out the car window at the bleakness of the dark highway. They were nearing New Haven, and had hardly exchanged more than a few words since she got in the car. The silence was heavy, tense, and yet familiar in a way Sydney didn’t hate. Vaughn was more guarded. She’d managed to get that much from his demeanor. He stared straight ahead, driving fast enough to get them to where he thought they needed to be, but not so fast as to raise suspicions, and he looked more tired (drained), yawning once in awhile. The Navigator was comfortable – that much Sydney had to admit. She had thrown her bag on the backseat and laid back, doing nothing but thinking for the past three and a half hours. She’d gone over her whole situation time and time again, thinking through all the little things, all the insinuations, all the details. She didn’t know why this had all decided to happen now – she’d expected at least a little more time, to be a little more safe (I’m losing my touch) - but she was almost too tired to argue through the thoughts any more. It was almost eleven thirty, which surprised Sydney. She thought it was earlier… but then again, time had escaped her recently. (She’d stare at the clock, wondering why the hands were moving so fast, so perfectly. She lost hours just staring at that clock, willing it to stop, to slow down.) She sighed, annoyed, and looked over at Vaughn, his eyes still on the long road stretching before them. “Say something, Vaughn.” She glanced at her hands, thin and feminine, before raising her head to look back at him. “Please?” He sighed, and for a second she saw him, in his suit, in the warehouse, giving her instructions for one of her counter missions. The vision quickly disappeared. “What do you want me to say?” he asked, almost bitterly. He glanced at a road sign as they passed it. (New Haven – 19 miles.) “We’ll stop in New Haven… get you something.” His eyes flicked over to her, sadder than anything else, and then returned to the road. Sydney was disappointed. (After everything, he can’t even look at me?) That realisation was the worst of all. She’d loved him so much, with every single cell of her bruised body, with every look she sent his way, with every word she uttered in his presence. (Even after all this time…) She knew he’d loved her as well – somewhere in his mind, his heart, his body, that small part of him that had damned protocol to Hell. (Almost two years…) If her heart still beat faster (still ached) just at the sight of him, why couldn’t he at least give her a glance to show he remembered? Sydney sighed, still staring at the passing scenery. Her thoughts were all over the place. She couldn’t decide whether to agonize about the things that mattered, or just about the random, fleeting thoughts that entered her mind. She still had very little idea about where Vaughn was taking her – and why everything had happened so fast. She was still practically reeling from the first sight of the Lincolns early that evening, and she still didn’t quite believe where she was: Running from the enemy. In a car on a highway to nowhere. With Vaughn. Thinking about her situation prompted a hundred images to fill her mind, most of them of the not-so-good kind, and she didn’t really want to deal with any of it. What she wanted was to be home – in a bubble bath – getting ready to go out with Seth while Melissa danced to techno music in her room down the hall. She wanted to worry about her ears and whether they stood out too much, and whether she should wear a skirt or pants. She wanted to watch old movies in her flannelette pajamas while drinking hot tea. She wanted things to be simple. (I want to be Elizabeth.) Sydney wondered if she’d ever see Melissa or Seth or Gwen ever again. She wondered where they were. Maybe they were on the same highway. Maybe they were heading for San Francisco, imagining they were on a college-style road trip. Maybe they hadn’t left Portland, thinking ‘Elizabeth’ was just overreacting. Maybe they were dead. Sydney was sick of this never-ending thought circle. Past. Death. Friends. Death. Future. Death. (Death.) She refused to allow herself to imagine all the worst case scenarios… and yet they entered her mind anyway; visions of Melissa riddled with bullets, Gwen strangled by her own scarf, and Seth drowned in his bathtub. (Death and bathtubs.) Sydney bit her lip. This was making her crazy. She looked over at Vaughn again, who ignored her glare, and then reached over to turn on the radio, flicking it to an oldie station. As Dean Martin’s voice filled the car, Sydney slowly tried to relax – to let herself calm down for the first time in the last twelve hours. It really didn’t work. Thankfully, New Haven was no longer on the horizon – it was all around them. They drove down the now-quiet street, looking for a 7-11. Vaughn spotted one, and he pulled into the parking lot. There were two other cars in the lot – an old orange Volvo and a silver Mercedes – and no people in sight. Vaughn opened his door. “You have ten minutes.” Sydney rolled her eyes as she got out of the car, taking her backpack with her. She followed Vaughn through the automated doors of the 7-11, tearing her eyes from his retreating back to look around her for the toiletries section. Spotting it to her left, she quickly walked towards it and started pulling things off the shelves. Shampoo. Toothpaste. Floss. She glanced at the range of hair dyes, quickly figured that she already had enough, and strolled to the counter, her arms full. Vaughn was just leaving the store, cell phone in hand, looking stressed, and Sydney wondered what had wound him up now. Whatever. Not like he’ll tell me anyway. She shook her head, put the bottles and various containers down, and leaned towards the middle-aged man behind the counter. “Is there an ATM around here anywhere?” “Out the door, to the left.” The man replied in a monotone, sounding tired, bored, impersonal. He started swiping the products through, not once looking at Sydney. I miss Mr. Benucci. Paying for her small amount of groceries, Sydney stuffed the plastic bag in her backpack, smiled slightly at the man, who grunted in response, and left the store. Looking around for Vaughn, she spotted him, sitting on the hood of the Mercedes in his jeans and sweater, which she was still not quite used to. (Suits.) She furrowed her brow and considered asking him a question, but then thought the better of it and simply walked over to the lit-up ATM, withdrawing all the money from her accounts. (Goodbye, Elizabeth.) The crisp, new notes spewed forth, and Sydney grabbed the wads, shoving them in her wallet, her bag, her jeans pockets. She turned and strode towards the Mercedes, throwing all her cards in a trashcan on the sidewalk. Vaughn watched her unblinkingly, maybe without feeling, but she was sure she could see awkwardness in his eyes, some kind of insecurity. (That makes two of us.) Sydney stopped right in front of him, between his knees, tired. Annoyed. Sick of the nothing. (“I never want to let you go.”) She stared into his green eyes, now emerald and reflecting the neon lights of the store behind her, and asked him one question. “Why can’t you look at me?” Vaughn blinked, and then his entire facial expression changed. His eyes went from stern and unfeeling to sad and distant, and Sydney’s stomach ached at the pain she saw in them. He wasn’t masking it – he was hurt. Horribly, terribly hurt. He then looked at her, really looked, (please) and Sydney’s breath caught. “I can’t look at you… because if I do, I won’t be able to take my eyes off you.” Vaughn spoke softly, quietly, genuinely. The pure honesty in his eyes (jade pools of light) was all Sydney could grasp, and she finally sucked in a small, shuddering breath, closing her eyes. When she felt Vaughn’s hand cupping her face, she opened them. He was half-smiling at her, his face more open than before (but still marred). She smiled back sadly, feeling his touch, his warmth, his everything in every fibre of her body. (Light and dizzy…) “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go.” Sydney nodded and stepped back, the feeling of Vaughn’s fingers on her cheek burned into her skin even after his hand left her face and opened the door of the Mercedes, closed it after himself, turned the key in the ignition. Sydney climbed in right after him, almost confused. “You have keys?” she asked, curious and surprised. “How do you have keys?” Vaughn chuckled, and Sydney grinned. (This is Vaughn) “Weiss drove it here an hour ago.” He turned right onto College Street, glancing quickly in the rear view mirror. “I had one set of keys in the first place.” Sydney nodded approvingly. “Nice.” She glanced at the grey upholstery, then at the backseat, and didn’t bother to hide her surprise. “Prepared much?” Vaughn smiled again as Sydney shook her head in bewilderment. The backseat had two boxes sitting on it, along with about seven blankets, two duffel bags full of what seemed to be clothes, and an amazing array of government-issue gadgets. She smiled sadly, realising that she’d missed the excitement that came with being an agent. But the thought didn’t fit right with her current situation, so she passed over it quickly. As Vaughn made a left, Sydney reached over and pulled up a flap on one of the boxes. Food. She turned back around, finally feeling lighter. Not much, but slightly. She smiled to herself, then looked over at Vaughn. “So,” she started, “where are we headed?” “Safe house,” Vaughn replied. Sydney immediately felt a spark of hope ignite in her, making her feel like there was a chance. “Lawrenceville, New Jersey. We get there, we contact the CIA, and they get us out.” Sydney nodded. “That’s it?” she asked as an afterthought. Vaughn squinted slightly, thinking. “Plan B is we keep running.” He shrugged, then glanced over at her, the orange light of the streetlamps passing over his features. “Hopefully, that won’t be something we won’t have to worry about.” “Hopefully.” Sydney stared out the window as Vaughn’s eyes returned to the road. “Another thing I…” she trailed off. “Yeah…?” Vaughn prompted. “Exactly… what have I missed?” She looked over at him, almost instantly regretting the question. Vaughn sighed and visibly tensed up, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. A moment or two passed in silence while he shifted gears and changed lanes. Then he launched into the story. “When SD-6 was destroyed, the whole area around the bank blew up. Of course, everything was almost completely indistinguishable. It took a long while for bodies to be identified, and for anything to be salvaged at all. A lot of people were killed that day for no reason, both at Credit Dauphine and SD-6 itself. You obviously know all that, though.” Vaughn glanced over at her, and she nodded silently. He sighed again and continued. “Well, Sloane wasn’t there. Neither was your father. But you knew that as well. And a lot of the original members and agents of SD-6 escaped before the blast, basically ready to form again. With whatever a small group they had at the time, they killed anyone who might’ve been a threat to them… like you.” He switched lanes again. “They at some point realised you as the mole, and decided that you might be a hazard to them. But you got out before they managed to find you. They regrouped, re-formed…” Sydney’s eyes widened. “SD-6 started over with a lot of help from the rest of the Alliance. They set up base again, this time in San Francisco.” Vaughn’s green eyes flicked over to Sydney, and she was surprised by the concern and sincerity in them. “They’ve been looking for you for eighteen months now, hell bent on getting rid of you and anyone around you that you might have confided in.” He paused. “Like Jay.” Sydney looked out the window, her fist clenching, her throat constricting at the thought of Jay. Of Gwen. Vaughn cleared his throat uncomfortably and went on. “Basically, what’s happened now is that SD-6 had a contact in the CIA who pulled your file. A team was sent out this morning to kill you and those around you. They followed you all day, blew up your house. They wanted to drive you insane…” he trailed off. “The contact was killed this afternoon, by one of SD-6’s snipers, as far as we know. They probably wanted to get rid of anyone who had anything on them. We’ve been able to establish that they’re much, much more careful now.” He glanced over at her again, then took the next exit off I-95, shaking his head slightly. “We weren’t sure what was happening.” He looked at her intently. “When we found out what happened, I was taken off my current case and told to come get you. If I’d known earlier, I would’ve gotten you out before anything happened.” He smiled at her faintly, and Sydney nodded back, taking in the information while noticing how his voice hadn’t changed. He still had the same informative, authoritative and yet unsure tone. (I missed you.) “What case were you taken off?” Sydney asked him, curious. “I was in the Ukraine.” Sydney raised her eyebrows. “Looking for an assassin who had supposed information on the Alliance. Some kind of “important” information.” He smirked. “I didn’t find him, but maybe the agents who stayed over there will have some luck. Who knows?” “You’re out in the field a lot now?” Sydney smiled at the thought. “Yeah,” Vaughn nodded. “Amazingly, they decided that I’d be good at it. So they sent me out… and liked what I did.” He shrugged. “I’m out of the country a fair bit now. Jet lag’s a permanent friend.” He chuckled. “No spandex or tight leather for me, though.” Sydney grinned at him. “Congratulations. I’m sure you do a great job.” “Yeah, well,” Vaughn smirked again. “Right now, this is probably one of the hardest things I’ve done in the last year.” Sydney nodded. “There are so many people after you, Sydney.” He looked over at her, his face cheerless and troubled. He seemed to pause, thinking. Driving onto a bridge, he spoke quietly. “It’s really good to see you again, Syd.” Sydney looked at him, at the light shining on him as they drove, and felt her heart squeeze in her chest. She felt as though she were breaking into tiny pieces of glass, and this man was the only thing keeping her together. He was here, again, saving her from death, from life. From herself. “It’s good to see you again, too.” * > Lawrenceville < It Begins |