By Clara 

Summary: When it came to Sydney Bristow, he’d never had a clue.
Disclaimer: They’re not mine
Category: Sydney/Sark, Sydney/Vaughn
Timeline: AU set after Dead Drop
Rating: PG
Author’s Notes: For the Cover Me July, 04 challenge. This hasn't been beta'ed so I apologise for any mistakes!
“I have an instinct.” Vaughn had once said.

Now he realised how off he’d been.  

There’d been no warning, no signs of what she was planning. One day she’d waved goodbye to Francie and just hadn’t shown up at SD-6 or the CIA.  

When it came to Sydney Bristow, he’d never had a clue.  

He lifted the glass of scotch to his lips and let it burn a path down his throat as he stared down at the surveillance pictures in front of him.  

In the photo two figures were huddled together at a table outside a small cafe in Berlin. Sark’s arm was casually thrown around Sydney’s shoulder as they laughed at whatever was on the piece of paper in front of them. 

For weeks they’d assumed that she’d been kidnapped, until the photos had been sent to them by an anonymous source. Now they had no doubts that she’d chosen to leave the CIA, her father…and him, behind for a life with Sark. 

He wondered how long ago her loyalties had been split. They hadn’t found any evidence that she had handed over any intelligence but that certainly didn’t mean she hadn’t, he thought bitterly.  

They’d questioned her mother but Irina hadn’t had a clue what was going on or had at least pretended not to, it certainly wasn’t the first time that he’d doubted Irina Derevko’s story.   

He’d told Will where she was and the look on his face had just made her betrayal of them all, seem all the more real. He’d left it to Will and Jack to decide what to tell Francie, he hadn’t been able to face it. 

Now there was nothing left for any of them to do but keep an eye out for her and hope that she would return and tell them what had gone wrong.

He gulped down the last of his drink and tossed the photos into the fireplace. Silently he watched her laughing face burn as the realisation dawned on him that this would be the last he’d see of Sydney Bristow.