Chapter 3 - A Final Sunrise

Sydney took the stairs up to the top floor of the library, which was almost guaranteed to be unoccupied. She briefly wondered if she was the only person who went to the library anymore, and decided that this didn't even count because she wasn't really here to study.

Over the years, she had met with Vaughn at innumerable random places, often wondering how in the world he thought of them. Of course, her favorite place to meet was the warehouse, where they could actually look at each other and talk at full volume. She smiled, thinking of its metal fence cage, and the way Vaughn always opened the gate for her, in some form of messed-up spy-world chivalry.

But today she walked between the bookshelves until she spotted him, perusing the titles. She took position at the shelf across the aisle from him and quietly said, "What's up?"

Sydney could barely see him in her peripheral vision, but she could sense the joy in his demeanor, feel rather than see the broad smile on his face.

"Op-tech broke the encryption two hours ago," he said. "We've been coordinating an international strike against all of the alliance organizations since then."

Suddenly, Sydney felt so loose she thought she might puddle on the floor. "Are you serious?"

"Syd, you know I would never joke about something like this." He gave her a moment to steady herself, sneaking a quick glance. She was standing, barely, by holding onto the bookshelf for support.

"Obviously, with something that requires this much coordination, we'd like to take awhile to plan it. But we also don't want to risk the possibility of a leak," he said. Then, with finality, "We go tomorrow."

Sydney almost trusted herself to talk. "Tomorrow?" she squeaked.

"Yes. I can't give you a time, because we haven't set one yet. Your father will be coordinating the SD-6 attack from the inside. He'll stop Sloane from activating the failsafe and keep building security under control. Just do whatever he says. I'd like to have you wear a wire, but they'll catch it when they scan you."

She took a deep breath and softly said, "Okay," before she turned to leave.

"There's one more thing," he said. "This will be a massive attack at the centers of all of the alliance groups, but it will take months, maybe even more years, to root out the periphery. So we don't want to draw attention to you or your father. We'll arrest you like everyone else, and I'm sorry it has to be that way, but we don't want it broadly known who the SD-6 moles were."

"That's okay," she said, still not trusting herself with larger words.

"The cover story will be a Justice Department raid on Credit Dauphine. Embezzlement, tax evasion, whatnot."

A short silence told her he was done. She pulled a few books from the shelf before she walked off, wondering if Vaughn had purposely chosen a section filled with literature analysis, or if the Dewey Decimal gods had smiled on her.

Vaughn raised his eyes just enough to watch her walk away. He was impressed that she could even walk after that news. He had a few hours on her and he was still reeling.

One thing was for sure, Vaughn thought, he owed op-tech big time. Calder had announced success by emitting what could only be described as a war whoop and flinging a pile of disks across the room.

"This is it, man," he said as Vaughn and the other agents crowded around his computer screen. "You got financial information, operational data, mission summaries, names, cell locations. A veritable cornucopia of bad-guy data."

"Print it off, or back it up, or whatever," Vaughn had said, as the agents launched into a discussion of just what exactly Calder had done to crack the files. Vaughn had grabbed the nearest phone to call Devlin, and by the time he had called Sydney, rough plans were in place for a strike the next day. Vaughn smiled at the recollection of that phone call and realized that he was really looking forward to finally meeting Francie. She must have been in a good mood today, because he only got a "Joey's freaking pizza," instead of last week's stream of expletives.

She was still in a good mood when Sydney got home, stating dramatically, "Do my eyes deceive me, or is Sydney Bristow home before 9:00?"

"I thought they locked her in the vault at night," Will — who apparently had not waited for her arrival to begin drinking — bellowed from the couch. "Credit Dauphine vampires."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. Really funny, guys," Sydney said. She kept her voice playful, but her mind was still whirling. This could be the last time she heard ragging from her friends about the bank. No more missed movie nights and canceled shopping trips. When she went on a trip, it would be a vacation, and when she went for a run, it would be to run, not meet with her handler-best friend-guardian angel — the man her friends knew nothing about.

She thought of Vaughn, there in her house, sitting on the couch and drinking beer with them. Being normal. Doing normal things, together. Will shooting him jealous glares because, well, because the man was phenomenally attractive. She let that thought slip out from behind her wall of lies.

Why not, she mused. I have less than 24 hours left as a spy.

They settled into a comfortable silence after Francie popped the movie in. By the time it was over, Will was far too drunk to drive home — or move, for that matter.

"Take the couch," Francie said. "You are going to have such a hangover tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, whatever," Will slurred. He waited until Sydney and Francie stood up to curl up on the couch and promptly pass out.

"I think we need to rethink movie night," Francie said. "It's detrimental to Will's health."

Sydney laughed. Not until after I get a chance to bring a guest, she thought. She headed to her bedroom, although she wasn't so sure — despite the alcohol in her system — that sleep was going to happen on this night.

After an hour of tossing and turning, Sydney gave up. Pulling on a robe, she went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Will was still sacked out on the couch, she noticed as she walked by. After pouring a glass, she turned to look out the window, wondering if perhaps there was some sort of time conspiracy making the current minutes of her life move so agonizingly slow.

Her gaze settled on the books she had checked out from the library, still sitting on the kitchen counter. Maybe I should start that paper, she thought, and at least do something productive.

A few hours later, she had surprised herself with five pages. Maybe I should eschew traditional research in favor of the random-book-grabbing method, Sydney thought with a grin. She tensed as she heard footsteps — heavy, belonging to a man, and from the sounds of the trudging, a man somewhere between drunk and hung over — and waited for Will to try to surprise her.

"Hey," he said, walking into the study.

She did the obligatory little jump, "Will, you scared me."

"What are you doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep," she said. "I figured I'd get some work done. I thought it would be refreshing to turn a paper in on time."

He gave her a half-drunk, half-awake laugh, then grew serious. "I know we rag on you a lot, Syd, but it's because we want you to be happy. You're at work like 24-7, and when you're not there, you're trying to cram in school. Are you really happy?"

Sydney glanced at her watch. It was so close, she felt herself teetering on the edge of telling him. Here, Will, in addition to your hangover, why don't you deal with the fact that your buddy Sydney is a spy, and not just any spy — a double agent.

"Maybe not now," she said. "But I think I will be. There's just been a lot going on at work —"

He cut her off sharply. "Syd, there's been a lot going on at work for like three years."

"I know, Will," she said. "But sometimes it isn't about being happy. It's about being the only one who can do your job as well as you do, and your duty to that."

This was normally the point where he started on the fact that it was just a bank. But something in the firmness of her tone made him stop. They sat in silence for a few moments until he glanced out the window.

"Sun's coming up," he commented.

"Another sunrise, another paper," she said. "Sydney's guide to graduate school."

Will stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, which was standing straight up, save for a few sections sticking out at odd angles. "Time for me to find some aspirin."

"Bathroom. Medicine cabinet," Sydney said, and he walked off. She looked out the window at the vivid colors that were beginning to grace the sky, colors she was very familiar with. She was tired, but still extremely tense. A matter of hours now, she thought, as her stomach clutched with a particular nervous pang. Only hours until she could take Will's advice.