Chapter 4 - Chilled

"Sydney?" His voice was calm, although she suspected he was not.

"Yeah?" She whispered. She was sitting with her back to the wall on one side of the small vault, trying to reason her way out of full panic.

"You're gonna be okay." Everything about the situation told her she was not going to be okay, but she didn't voice those thoughts. "I want you to talk to me. Just keep talking."

Keep talking so you don't fall asleep and die, she realized. She rubbed her arms, trying to bring some warmth to them and longing for the heat she had been cursing for days. The thin layer of sweat on her body had long since dissipated, and her muscles ached from the quick loss of warmth. "Talk about what?"

"Anything," he responded. "You said you had a paper due. What's the topic?"

"War themes in All Quiet on the Western Front."

"So what 'war themes' are you writing about?"

"I don't know," she responded. "I haven't even read the book yet."

He gave her a tense chuckle and paused for a second. "Weiss had to read it in college. He said you should just write 'this book sucks' in really big font."

She laughed softly and then fell silent.

Vaughn pushed on. "So how are Will and Francie?" With that question, the horrific absurdity of the situation struck Vaughn. These were questions he would like to be able to ask her in normal, everyday conversation. Instead, he was asking them over a radio link, trying to keep her from freezing to death in some vault in Brazil.

"Will's good," she said. "He had this huge front-page exposé on the mayor's office last week, so we've been hearing about it non-stop since." Vaughn was familiar with the article. He usually scanned the newspaper for Will Tippin's byline, the remote connection to Sydney enough to generate interest in the work of her friend.

She paused, frightened that the chill felt like it was moving deeper into her core. The cold was raw on her skin, making it ache in the places that weren't already turning numb. Involuntarily, she began to quiver. "And then Francie's great. She met this guy, Jim, and he seems really nice. I hope this works out for her — after everything she's b-been th-through, she d-deserves it."

Vaughn drew in a sharp breath at the sound of her stuttering, knowing that shaking had set in. He flicked his microphone off long enough to tell Weiss, "We need to try and reach Jack Bristow." In case she doesn't make it out of there, he didn't add.

"Vaughn, they don't exactly have me dressed in a whole lot of clothing." The shaking was worsening, but this admission to him warmed her slightly with a blush, and she welcomed it.

"What are you wearing?"

For one brief, glorious  moment, his question pushed heat throughout her entire body. She wasn't sure if it was the result of a logical line of questioning or personal curiosity, but either way Sydney decided it might make her feel warmer if she told him. "Another t-top from the SD-6 circus c-collection, leather skirt, leather boots — th-thankfully not s-stilettos. I hate th-those d-damn th-things," she said. "Goofy blond and p-purple wig. I think that's helping to k-keep my head w-w-warm."

Vaughn looked up at Dr. Jenkins, who had just walked in and taken a seat next to Weiss. She motioned to him to turn off his microphone.

"She needs to keep her extremities warm," she said, "Especially if she wants to keep her fingers."

Vaughn fought the queasiness in his stomach as he switched his microphone back on. "Syd, you need to keep your hands warm."

"S-sure, Vaughn, just l-let me p-pull my nice l-little gloves out h-here."

He decided her ability to still render sarcasm was a good thing. Vaughn looked up at the doctor as she motioned to him, indicating what Sydney should do.

"Keep them under your armpits." He launched into a new question. "What's your favorite movie?"

"C-C-Casasblanca." The response was immediate. But when she tried to remember plot points, moments, concepts — reasons why she loved the movie — Sydney found they were gone from her mind. "...the end...wh-where..."

Normally, the conversation would have been fascinating to him — a rare personal nugget from Sydney's life. But now Vaughn stared in horror at Dr. Jenkins, the look on her face telling him everything he needed to know as Sydney continued to stumble through her critique of the movie. The closest CIA agent was still 10 minutes away when she trailed to a halt.

"V-Vaughn?" her voice was weak and soft.

"Yes?"

"I don't w-want to t-talk anymore. I can't th-think s-straight and it's too c-c-cold in here." He could hear her teeth chattering.

"Hey!" he spoke sharply, trying to jar her. "Sydney, you have to keep talking. You have to stay awake just a little bit longer. If you don't want to talk about anything, just...." He looked at Dr. Jenkins as she mouthed a message to him. "...just recite the alphabet."

There was a long pause before her disoriented whisper began. It was barely audible, but there. "A...B-B...C..."

Vaughn could think of few things more agonizing than listening to her crawl through the letters, mixing them up more often than she got them right. "V...R...S...Q...T...M...N...O..." 

Occasionally, she would pause, and with a sigh or a moan, ask his permission to stop. He would sharply coax her on, asking her for one more letter, and then another.

Vaughn had long since stopped counting the number of convoluted passes Sydney made through the alphabet when she stopped again.

"My f-fingertips are t-turning b-blue." What frightened Vaughn most was the absence of fear in her voice. "Who'd have th-thought..."

"Who'd have thought what?"

"I always th-thought if I d-died from b-being a s-s-spy, I w-would get sh-shot, or SD-s-six would g-give me the l-lethal inj...inj...sh-shot," she said. "I n-never th-thought I'd f-f-freeze to d-death."

Weiss motioned to him. "One of our guys is on site."

Vaughn screamed into his microphone. "Listen to me! Hang on. You've got to hang on. Syd, just a little longer. Stay with me."

"Mmmmm," she moaned. He heard a soft thud, which her presumed was her slumping against the floor. "S-sorry, V-vaughn. C-c-can't."

"Hey! Sydney! No! Damn it, hang on!" Vaughn glanced in desperation at Dr. Jenkins, but she just shook her head.