"Vaughn, tell me about your childhood." Sydney held the wine glass just below her lips. Her hair was twisted into a bun and her crème colored dress slipped snugly around her body. She grinned slightly, her eyes burning through the misty candlelight. Sydney had waited forever for this night. It was her night to be with the man she loved- alone. No cameras, no earpieces- just the two. She rubbed the rim of the glass across her lip and took a small sip.

"There's not much to tell." Vaughn held his hand firmly on the table top. He didn't look into her eyes, but instead off through the window and into the night. He closed his eyes momentarily and turned back to Sydney. He spoke nonchalantly, as if childhood was something you could take casually. "I didn't have much of a childhood; nothing worth remembering anyways."

"You know everything about me Vaughn. You have files on each member of my family. You might know more about me than even I do." Sydney was serious now. Her smile had faded and she looked at his- curious. She began to fiddle with the end of the white tablecloth. Her attention was focused in on Vaughn's childhood. For some reason, the fact that he didn't want to share made her even more interested. "Tell me something about your childhood. Anything."

"Ok. I grew up in France. My house was about a block away from the public school- Hinsdale Elementary School. My house was painted red with large shutters. I was a somewhat odd child. I had a twitch- a mild form of Tourette's that went a way with age. I had spiky blonde hair for most of my childhood and big ears. The stuck out so much that my doctor thought that I might need to have them pinned back." Vaughn chuckled at his own story. Sydney had a feeling that he would act this way- that he would be livelier once he got it off his chest. Sydney sat back and listened as he continued his story. "My life was ok I guess, well, when I was younger. Then it started getting bad. My mother started drinking and my father was killed. I knew I had to leave France. Get away from all the bad things that were happening."

"Is your mom still alive?" Sydney asked, dodging the comment about his dead father. She didn't want to bring anything into the conversation that could make this night turn out bad. She leaned back in, letting the candle light flood her face.

"Sydney. Don't pry into my childhood- please- there's nothing there I want to revisit." Vaughn took the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. The alcohol would take over his system soon. Sydney was shocked by the comment he had made. She wasn't expecting him to lash back so quickly. Be so defensive of his childhood. At least not to her.

"Vaughn. Remember that boy you told me about? Vaughn, who took care of you when you would fall off your bike? Who cooked you dinner and did your laundry?" Sydney couldn't help but continue. There didn't seem like there was anything that could make Vaughn act like this. These memories were hurting him, and Sydney could tell.

"I remember one day. I had just got the light-up shoes. You know the ones with the red lights in the back? Well, the day I got them I raced to the park to show all my friends. About halfway there I hit a curb and ripped up my knee. I didn't know what to do so I did what every other 5 year old would. I started to sob. I think I was more upset about scuffing up my new shoes." Vaughn looked disappointed, like the shoes were his treasure. The fact that the lights never worked again was like putting a damper on his life. Vaughn's eyes were beginning to water. Sydney knew it was from the memories- no alcohol had that much power. She leaned in closer to hear the rest of the story. She had never seen Vaughn act like this- not at meetings, not in the garage cage, no where. "I decided to run home. It wasn't worth showing my friends- not anymore at least. When I got home my face was smeared with dirt, probably from my tears. The first thing I heard when I got home was my mom. She was yelling into the phone. It was probably my dad- she started to drink a lot during my younger years. She thought my dad was having affairs because he was always on business trips. I knew she couldn't help me, so I went into the bathroom and learned to clean up my own cuts. In that moment I decided I wanted to join the CIA- to protect others in a way I never was."

Sydney looked at him; a mixture of admiration and sympathy. Vaughn saw these feelings and quickly tried to change the subject. He picked up the wine bottle, but with his shuddering hands the bottle fell out. Pieces of glass scattered across the floor, floating in the sea of red wine. Vaughn reached down to clean up the mess he had caused. Sydney bent down and began soaking the substance up with her napkin. She looked into Vaughn's petrified eyes. She reached her hand out and touched his trembling fingers. His hand was cold- like ice was running through his veins instead of blood. Vaughn's whole childhood has been ruined- taken away from him- because of one bloody knee.