Authors' Notes:

Lara: Thank you, Thorne, for putting up with my nuttiness, among a million other things. This was an absolute blast to work on. And of course, thanks as well to Hill and CD.

Thorne: Thank you to Lara, first of all, because this was so much fun. Well, for more than that, but I’m not getting sappy here. Thanks to JJ Abrams and all the actors for giving us such great stuff to write about. And thanks to Hill for the challenge – it was a good one.

He jerked back into consciousness in the back seat of a dark, plush Towncar. After a long trip, filled with his questions and no answers, two men had carried him from the car into this building. One of them had shot him — killed him, he had thought at the time. Obviously not, because he was here — very much alive and in pain. The coolness of the floor felt good against the bruise on his cheek.

"What now?" the slight blonde man asked, from somewhere overhead.

"You shot me!" he cried.

"Silence, Mr. Tippin," the blonde’s voice was filled with soft menace, and he looked toward a vaguely familiar woman, who witnessed all of this without a visible reaction.

"That is not your concern, Mr. Sark." she said, accent clearly Russian. A nod told him Sark was dismissed, and Will was left staring up at her.

* * *

LOS ANGELES

Vaughn waited for her at the warehouse, shoulders tense. Something was wrong, something was very wrong; she wondered how he ever made it through CIA training when he telegraphed every emotion so clearly.

Sydney squared her shoulders. "What happened?"

He broke the news to her softly, gently — the charred rag in his hands the harshest part of the delivery. Yesterday Will had been wearing this gray sweatshirt. It still smelled of him, faint under the burnt scent.

"The safehouse was compromised. Someone broke in, and burned the place down." A pause and he avoided her eyes as he continued. "He’s dead. Sydney, I'm so sorry."

"No. No no no, how did this happen? What – no, this can’t be happening!" Sydney’s words tumbled out. "He was supposed to be safe, I told him – Vaughn, I told him he would be safe there! I promised him!"

"I know, but, Sydney, listen to me. Listen! You cannot blame yourself. There was nothing you could do. No one expected ...no one expected this to happen. We all thought he was safe," Vaughn said, his voice low and urgent. He inched forward when the sobs began, and then the only thing she felt was the warmth of his arms. His voice was soft in her ear, telling her again and again that it wasn't her fault, that he was sorry. That they would find whoever did this and make them pay.