Chapter 6 - Return to Warmth

Vaughn sat silently in the middle of the warehouse, waiting in the stifling heat. He was sweaty and uncomfortable, but couldn't bring himself to curse high temperatures anymore.

The last few days had been fraught with sleepless nights and a rolling tension in his stomach that wouldn't stop. His memories of the mission kept replaying in his mind, a broken record he feared wouldn't stop until he saw Sydney again. At least, he told himself, you will get to see her again. Her, and not her casket.

It had taken more than two hours of tense waiting for the confirmation to come from one of the agents at the hospital. "Doctors say she's out of the woods. Full recovery expected."

The agents had registered her as a Jane Doe and she had been transported to a CIA facility in Florida as soon as she was stable. Jack had run interference at SD-6 to cover for her absence, supplying them with a fake set of vials, which had at least temporarily satisfied Sloane.

Vaughn turned his eyes upward at the clunk of a slamming metal door. His first glimpse of her was both wonderful and painful. Her face was pale, almost ghostly, and one side was bright red, where it had rested on the frozen floor. The blue wool sweater she was wearing certainly didn't mesh with the heat. 

Blue, Vaughn realized, was no longer his favorite color. In fact, he would have been happy to eliminate it from the spectrum entirely.

"Hey," she said hoarsely. She caught his scrutiny of her attire, and looked down. "I just can't seem to feel warm anymore." As if to prove her point, a tremor wracked her body.

Vaughn felt his chest tighten painfully in response. He wanted her to feel warm. Wanted her to feel safe. Wanted to erase the memories from his mind. Wanted to stop hearing her say the words, over and over in his mind: "My f-fingertips are t-turning b-blue."

And so he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her, drawing her in tight and absorbing her next shiver with his body. She was startled by his forwardness, but relaxed quickly, sliding her arms across his back, realizing that she needed this just as much as he did.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered. A simple phrase, but it said a lot, especially to the part of her that had flushed with the words, "What are you wearing?" 

Sydney couldn't see if there were tears in his eyes, but she could hear them in his voice.

"Thank you," she said softly. "For making sure you didn't. For pulling me through it."

He started to scoff at her words, but she silenced him with a "shhh," pulling closer. She placed her head on his shoulder with a soft sigh as he traced his hands lightly across the small of her back, basking in her existence there, sweater slightly scratchy under his hands.

If only I could just stay here for the rest of my life and tell Arvin Sloane to go to hell

, Sydney thought. She wasn't sure if it was due to the warmth from his body or the care in his touch, but something now kept her thoughts from continuously snapping back to that frigid vault in Brazil. They spent the duration of their meeting that way, quietly reassuring each other with the embrace. 

Eventually, she reluctantly pulled away. "I have to get to class, which means first I have to throw a bunch of makeup on this." She pointed to the red mark on her face.

His smile was faint, and overshadowed by his furrowed brow, but she felt better seeing it — seeing his eyes lighten enough to make her feel like she could leave and neither of them would implode. "I'll see you."

"Okay." A simple word, but she could hear the peace in it, and turned to leave.

Sydney glanced down at her sweater as she walked out. Smiling, she pulled it off, opened the door to her Land Rover, and threw it in her back seat.

Suddenly, she didn't feel like she needed it.