A/N: The reviews for the last chapter were very few in numbers!  I hope I still have some interested readers who will be so kind as to click that little button at the bottom and my holidays even jollier. Happy Holidays!

Chapter 7

            Vaughn walked over to the fallen timber, knowing that its presence could be crushing her airway. It was heavy and the pain in his shoulder made the extra weight unbearable but with some additional effort he removed the piece of wood and then proceeded to her side. She was even more beautiful than he remembered during their first encounter. He shook his head to remind himself that this woman was the enemy. He gently reached down to her neck and checked to make sure she had a pulse. Reluctantly he pulled a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket and placed them on her wrists behind her back. She didn't move during this process. Vaughn then stood up and pulled his emergency contact radio out of his pocket, hoping that the antenna would be able to reach threw the fallen dirt and rocks.

            "Base-Ops, this is Boy Scout. Over," Vaughn spoke and waited. There was no answer. "Base-Ops, this is Boy Scout, the mission has been impaired. I need assistance. Over." Again there was no answer. Vaughn settled in next to Sydney with his back against the wall as he waited for a response from one of two people.

* *  *

            "Agent Vaughn isn't responding," Weiss said walking into Director Kendall's office.

            Kendall stood up and followed Weiss to the computer that was monitoring Agent Vaughn's mission. "Last transmission?"

            Weiss pushed a button the computer and Agent Vaughn's voice filled the room. "No sign of the marker—" Gunfire pierced the occupant's ears. "We're under attack. It's…Bristow!" Static followed.

            "That's it?" Kendall asked sounding frustrated.

            "Sir!" The two men turned to find one of their data managers before them. "We're receiving a weak satellite transmission from somewhere in Tijuana. Weiss and Kendall looked up expectantly.

            "Play it," Kendall ordered. The man hopped into the chair and began typing frantically on the computer. Finally he pushed one button and once again Vaughn's voice filled the room.

            "Base-Ops…Boy Scout," Vaughn's voice said disjointedly. "Base-Ops…Boy Scout…mission…impaired…assistance…"

            "Get a team assembled," Kendall barked to Weiss.

            Weiss smiled. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

            Sark watched as the C-4 exploded and he waited. He waited for Sydney to run up to the car so that they could return home. He must have waited there twenty minutes, but she didn't show. Sark hung his head as he slowly headed down the mountain.

            "Ground Floor, this is Commander."

            "Proceed Commander."

            "Marker has been successfully retrieved. Lieutenant down."

            "Come home Commander," came the desolate reply.

            "Copy that. En route. Airport ETA forty-five minutes."

            "Good job, Commander." Sark didn't have the heart to reply.

* *  *

            Vaughn watched as Sydney began to stir, but he didn't move towards her. She moaned and struggled to move her hands, but when she couldn't, her eyes shot wide open and she turned her head to try and figure out where she was. She instantly spied Vaughn and glared at him.

            "How are you feeling?" Vaughn asked, trying to keep the sympathy out of his voice. After all, she had intended to kill him. She didn't answer him. Instead she took the mission of sitting up, which took a lot more work than one might have needed had their hands not been tied together. It was slow progress, but she succeeded. Then she worked on getting her handcuffed hands in front of her. When she had completed both her intended missions she relaxed by closing her eyes and leaning her head against the wall.

            "Don't close your eyes, Agent Bristow. That's an order. You could have a concussion," Vaughn shouted.

            Sydney's eyes shot open. "Why does my well-being matter to you?"

            "As much as you are disinclined to believe my words, my intentions are not to hurt you. What I told you before, Agent Bristow, is true. I work for the CIA and you work for the Alliance. The CIA wants to recruit you as a double agent. That's all I'm here for."

            "Why should I believe you?" she asked tiredly.

            "For all practical purposes you shouldn't," Vaughn sighed. "But you should know, that the CIA has just recruited your father as a double agent."

            "Good for him," Sydney murmured as she attempted to close her eyes again. Vaughn came to her side and shook her awake,

            "You may have concussion. You can't fall asleep," Vaughn stressed.

            "Why were you at my house?" Sydney asked suddenly.

            "My friend was under orders to tap your house. We were hoping to get the inside scoop of what was going on in the Alliance by tapping your phone," Vaughn confessed.

            "Your plan failed," Sydney said with a weak smile.

            "Tell me about Sloane," Vaughn said as he struggled to keep her awake.

            "He's a good man," Sydney murmured. "He's head of the CIA. He's a good man. Good father…"

            "Sydney! Sydney!" Vaughn said slapping her face urgently. Suddenly her handcuffed hands found a way on either side of his neck as she pulled the connecting chain across his airway.

            "Now what?" Vaughn asked as a strangled gasp. "Where will killing me get you? You're trapped in here, I hope you know."

            "Yeah, well if we're both going to die in here, I'll have the pleasure of killing you first," Sydney whispered harshly into his ear as she pulled the chain harder across his throat.

            "We're not going to die," Vaughn strangled out. "I called for help." He pulled hard at the chain; trying to get the pressure of the metal off his throat when suddenly the line went slack.

            Vaughn freed himself rubbing his neck as he did so. Sydney had fallen into unconsciousness once again, except this time when he tried to awake her, she was unresponsive. He checked her pulse and found that there was one, but it was weak.

            Vaughn reached over to his radio and just as he was going to attempt another desperate call for help, a voice crackled brokenly over threw the receiver.

            "Boy Scout…do…copy?"

            "Yes, this is Boy Scout."

            "What…situation?"

            "I'm trapped in the mine along with Agent Sydney Bristow. The team is lost. I have experience a minor gunshot wound and Agent Bristow has a possible concussion."

            "Copy…Team en route…ETA three hours…Over."

            "Over and out." Vaughn went back to Sydney's side and checked her pulse once again. It had not changed. Vaughn laid his head against the wall watching her sleep and hoping that the extraction team would get there in time.

* * *

            Sark walked back into the office. It was about four in the morning and the office was deserted. No one was typing at their desks or chattering around the coffee room. The office was completely dead. Sark shuddered at his choice of words. Despite their constant battering, Sark admired Sydney for her perseverance and her abilities as an agent. The office wasn't going to be the same without her.

            When Sark described the empty office room, he forgot to mention the one large glass office whose lights were on and shining brightly across the dark floor. Upon his entry, the man in the office rose from his seat and exited his office, heading for Sark. Sark numbly handed him the marker. Sloane ignored the device. Rambaldi was his life's work, and yet he ignored this piece of the puzzle and faced Sark.

            "The mission was a success, you have your device," Sark said solemnly.

            Sloane nodded. "And Sydney?"

            "She's dead. You best tell Jack," Sark said with finality. "Goodnight." Sark turned and headed towards the door, while Sloane held the device in his hand, wondering if it was worth it. He headed back to his office and picked up the phone.

            "Hi, Emily it's me…Yes, I know how late it is, I'm sorry. I'm on my way home now, but I have to stop at Jack's house…I'll tell you when I get home…Goodnight." Sloane hung up the phone and stuffed the marker into a locked desk drawer before turning out the light and making his way across the room to the exit, but he couldn't help stopping to let himself linger at her desk. It was neatly organized with a digital clock that glowed red, a charging laptop, and a picture of Sydney, a young man with blond hair, and a beautiful black woman. They were all smiling and from the background, seemed to be enjoying a day in the park. Sloane sighed. He regretted now ever having recruited her into this agency. He knew she was a strong fighter, but the job requirements made the lives of even the most qualified agents difficult.

            Sloane couldn't stand looking at this happy Sydney any longer. He turned away and made his way to the garage and into his car. He was not looking forward to breaking the news to Jack. He knew that Sydney had never been close to her father, and now he truly felt sorry for the man for he never got to really know his magnificent daughter as well as he could have. If Sloane would have had the choice of knowing Sydney well or not knowing her at all and then had to face losing her, he would automatically choose knowing her. His pain, he knew, would be nothing compared to what Jack was about to face, but no matter what, he and Jack were both united in their equally strong feelings towards Sydney as a daughter.

            Sloane pulled into Jack's driveway. His car headlights reflected on the yard briefly before focusing in tiny circles on the garage. The grass was tall in some places, but the areas that saw mostly shade were short and brown. As an agent, Sloane himself rarely found time to tend to his yard, but to Jack Bristow, the lawn apparently wasn't on any of his to-do lists. Sloane turned off the lights and headed slowly to the front door. Not surprisingly, Jack greeted him at the door. It wasn't very frequently that he had guests during this time of night or morning.

            "Arvin," Jack said, sounding slightly surprised. Jack had been friends with Arvin for more years than he could remember, but ever since he had found out that he was a traitor, he hadn't been able to think of the man in the same way since. In fact, he was a little disgusted at having his old friend in his house.

            "Sorry to call on you so early, Jack, but you know I wouldn't be here if it wasn't urgent."

            "Come inside," Jack requested, sounding slightly perplexed. "Take a seat."

            "I'm not going to stay long. I just wanted to be the one to tell you," Sloane began. Jack felt his heart thump twice as hard. He had a slight nervousness that he was aware he wasn't showing, but that was still there. He was worried that he had found out that he was a double agent. It would be the most likely scenario, but as soon as Sloane revealed the news, Jack berated himself for his petty thoughts. "It's about Sydney."

            "Sydney?"

            "Sydney and Sark successfully retrieved the marker in Tijuana, but only Sark came back. I'm sorry Jack." Jack wanted to shout out. It couldn't be true. He wouldn't believe it. Not from this man. He allowed his face to show the pain he was feeling to satisfy Sloane, but he was not going to believe any of it till he had confirmation.

            "What happened?" Jack asked keeping his voice slightly strained.

            "There was a cave-in. Sydney wasn't able to get out before the C-4's blew. I'm sorry Jack," Sloane said watching the man with concern. "She was like a daughter to me. I was thinking on the way home that it was selfish of me to bring her into this life. The job claims more honest lives than it should. I put the blame on myself."

            As you should, Jack thought to himself. It was Sloane's fault that Sydney got involved in this dangerous life. She should have been like every one else. She should be able to walk down the street without wondering if she is being followed, or hang out with friends without wondering when her beeper would go off to make her have to risk her life and save the world for the philosophies of a dead man. "It's not your fault," Jack heard himself say. "My connections guaranteed her involvement into the agency anyway. I appreciate you coming over and telling me, but I'm sure Emily is wondering where you are."

            "I haven't told her yet," Sloane said distantly. "She's going to be devastated. Sydney was like her daughter."

            Jack nodded. "Give my regards to your wife," he urged. He wanted Sloane out of the house. He wanted to contact the CIA and figure out what the hell was going on. He was not ready to take Sloane's word after all the lies the man had told him.

            "Of course," Sloane said finally making moves towards the door.  "And don't bother coming to work tomorrow. I completely understand."

            "I appreciate it, Arvin. Goodnight."

            "Goodnight, Jack." Jack waited until Sloane got into his car and backed out of his driveway before racing to his phone.

            "CIA headquarters, to whom may I direct your call?" Came an automatic receptionist.

            "Director Kendall."

* * *

            The CIA extraction team was not tardy. They arrived by helicopter and assorted vehicles in slightly less than three hours and were already working on digging the two of them out. Sydney had yet to regain consciousness, but her heart rate remained at its slow constant rate. It took at least another hour and a half after they arrived to dig them out, but when the moment came, light was shining threw the slowly enlarging hole in the side of the cave wall. It was morning.

            When the hole was finally large enough for a person to fit through, Weiss was the first one to enter. "Hey man," Weiss said with a smile. "How's it going?"

            "Good, just hanging out waiting for my insanely slow rescuers," Vaughn said returning the grin.

            "You okay?" Weiss asked seriously.

            "Bullet wound to the shoulder, but nothing too serious. Agent Bristow will need medical attention immediately," Vaughn said looking down at her.

            "Next time you want to capture an agent for the CIA, don't go to such extremities," Weiss said as he called for a medic. A tall man with a mustache entered shortly thereafter.

            "Look after her," Vaughn ordered when the medic started addressing his wounds.

            "We're going to have to remove the handcuffs," the medic said after he had listened to her heart rate and checked her eye for response to light.

            "Not on your life," Vaughn said animatedly. "At least wait until you get her on the stretcher." Vaughn rubbed his neck in a harsh memory of her attack.

            "If you feel okay to move sir, the two of you will have to vacate the room so we can fit a stretcher in here," the medic requested.

            "Of course," Vaughn agreed. Weiss helped his friend leave the cave, and Vaughn was met with applause by his fellow rescuers. Vaughn waved them off while giving them a thankful smile. Weiss escorted Vaughn to a nearby medic, who cleaned and bandaged his bullet wound and analyzed the faint bruising that was appearing around his neck from Sydney's attempted strangulation. 

            "What happened in there?" Weiss asked when the medic had finished.

            "We were ambushed. Agent Bristow got to the marker before we did. She wasn't alone either. She had another man that we're going to have to run through the database. Anyway, she gave the marker to him. He escaped, but she stayed behind to kill me. There was explosion, and then the mine collapsed."

            "What was the explosion from?" Weiss asked.

            "My guess is they rigged some sort of explosive somewhere in the cave. I guess they had the intention of getting out before it went off."

            "No doubt," Weiss said, but Vaughn was no longer paying attention. He got off the hood of the car he had been sitting on during his examination and went over to where two men were slowly pushing Sydney out of the cave. Her head was now bandaged and she was lying in a stretcher covered in a white blanket. One of the medics waved him over.

            "How is she?" Vaughn asked.

            "She's got a concussion, but she should recover. A few days in the hospital will do her good. We need you to unlock the handcuffs now."

            Vaughn rustled through his pockets until he found the two keys and unlocked the handcuffs. "I want her strapped to the stretcher. She still believes we're the enemy."

            "Of course, sir." They loaded Sydney into the awaiting helicopter.

            "Come on man," Weiss said hitting Vaughn gently on the back. "It's time to go home."

            "Thank God."