Chapter Six

The sound was coming from a room at the end of a long hall before him. He could hear a voice, but he couldn't decipher the words that were being said.

Watch me, Daddy…

White, everything was white. He was even dressed in white. How did he get here? He moved toward the sound of the voice, down the hall that seemed to never end.

"Hello?" he called out, hoping to hear the voice again. Every door looked the same, and unless he heard where the voice was coming from he wouldn't know which one to open.

Dad?

It was a child's voice, a familiar child's voice. He called out again, louder this time, "Hello!"

Daddy?

He stopped moving for a moment, his heart caught in his throat. "Isabelle?" Panic gripped him and he gave into it for a split second before running full-speed toward the end of the white hall. "Is! Where are you, sweetie?"

Daddy, I really, really need you!

"I'm coming, Is! Daddy's coming!" His pulse quickened, his breath came in frightened puffs. He had to find her. He had to find Isabelle. She was in trouble.

"Hello, Michael." A male voice came from behind him. He glanced, still running, over his shoulder. He gasped sharply at the tanned figure dressed all in black, wearing mirrored, rectangular shaped sunglasses and smiling…a devilish grin.

It was Arvin Sloane.

"Sloane." It was all he could muster. He looked down at his feet which were still moving over the white surface below him. The floor had become like a white treadmill. He was moving, but going nowhere.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Sloane asked. A little girl suddenly stood in front of him, her chestnut brown hair braided into pigtails, her intense blue eyes gazing up at him pleasantly, her hands clasped in front of her politely. She, like Vaughn, was dressed all in white.

"Isabelle." He couldn't help but smile with relief when he realized she hadn't been harmed. He stopped running and reached out to touch his little girl.

Sloane's hand touched her before Vaughn's could. Sloane patted her shoulder and smiled down at her like a proud grandfather would do. Vaughn's eyes widened in fear as Sloane draped a black cape over Isabelle's shoulders. "Tell Daddy you're going to help Uncle Arvin," Sloane persuaded gently.

"No…"

Daddy I'm…

"No…"

…to help Uncle Arvin, okay?

"No, Isabelle…"

Don't worry, Daddy.

"She'll be fine, Michael." Sloane turned Isabelle around and nudged her away from her father. Her white sandals still peeked out from beneath the black cape that now enshrouded her tiny figure.

"No, come back…come back…ISABELLE!"

He sat straight up in bed, his breathing fast and panicked, his face, neck and chest covered in sweat. The room around him was dark except for a digital clock's blue numbers next to him. 2:47 a.m.

2:47 a.m. What time was it on the east coast? It didn't matter. He had to call Sydney.

"Hi," his wife's sweet voice answered. She was smiling, he could tell by her tone. He imagined her dimples as she grinned through the phone.

"Hi." It brought him a small amount of comfort just to hear her voice. "Are you up?"

"Yeah. I'm actually about to head into work. I have so much to tell you, Vaughn, you're not gonna believe it."

"How's Isabelle?" his question was abrupt, he knew, but he needed confirmation that everything was all right.

"Isabelle's fine. She's in utter disbelief that her mother was a secret government agent, but she's dealing. I haven't told her about her dad yet, by the way." A pause. "Isabelle's fine, why?"

"Syd, I had this dream, I had this…horrible dream."

"What kind of dream?" Sydney's smiling tone had faded.

"Isabelle was with Sloane."

"What?"

"Sloane, Arvin Sloane, he…he took her away from me. I just…didn't get to her in time. I tried, Syd, I did. But I couldn't…" Vaughn rubbed his eyes warily.

"Oh, my God," Sydney's voice sounded shaky.

"What's wrong?" No sound came from the other end. "Sydney?"

"Has Isabelle talked to you?" she asked.

"No." Had he missed something somewhere?

"Dixon? Mitchell Flinkman? Has anybody called you?"

"No." He was beginning to get scared. "Sydney, what the hell's going on?"

"We have reason to believe that Sloane might still be alive."

Her statement hit him as if he'd been punched in the chest. His next word came in a hoarse whisper: "What?"

"We aren't certain, but there's been activity around the ruins where we had our final run-in with him and Rambaldi." She sniffed quietly. "Where my dad died."

"Syd…"

"Dixon says there's a slim chance he could still be out there. I don't know, Vaughn, your dream really might mean something."

"Is that the mission that Dixon wanted Isabelle for?" Vaughn asked, his voice suddenly demanding. "The mission to the ruins?"

Sydney hesitated for a moment. "Yes."

"No chance in hell." Vaughn flipped on the bedroom light and pulled a black duffle bag out of the nearby closet. He rummaged through his drawers, piling clothes into the bag until it was completely full. He wasn't even sure what he'd packed.

"What are you doing?" Sydney questioned him nervously from her side of the phone.

"Packing."

"Vaughn, everything's fine. I'm here. I'm looking out for Isabelle…"

"I don't care, Syd. It doesn't matter who's looking out for her. Isabelle is not going on that mission. She's not."

"Well, at least let me talk to Dixon. Maybe we can work something out…"

"I'm going to drop Jack off at Sean's house, and I'm coming." Vaughn slipped a pair of slacks over his boxer shorts and grabbed his wallet from the dresser top.

"Vaughn, it's three o'clock in the morning in California! You can't just…"

"I'm coming, Sydney. That's all there is to it."

"Vaughn!"

"I'm coming."