Title:The window
Author: Abby (sugaraygal@hotmail.com)
Rating: G
Comments: Sydney/Vaughn. My first Alias fan fic. Set during and after the season finale of first season.
Discalimer: All Alias characters belong to ABC, but I don't care...
The seconds seemed like hours.
Her hand flew up to the glass, her terror obviously playing across her features. He wasn't supposed to be there, this was all a mistake. And now he was going to die. She could not understand why he was so calm. He was trapped, he knew it and she knew it. He raised his hand up to rest against the place where her hand was on the other side. He could feel the warmth coming from hers, and looked up to see her face. She was panicking, but he knew it would not help either of them if he flailed about screaming for help. Instead, in one last moment, he looked upon her with all the love and adoration he had never been able to show before. Behind him he could feel the cool mist of the wall of water coming upon him.
Before she could respond, his face pressed up against the plexiglass, the tons of pitch black water pinning him against the door. Sydney looked on in shock as his body was swallowed up by the massive flood.
The water finally grew calm enough that he could push himself off the door. He opened his eyes. He knew it would only be a matter of minutes left before he ran out of air. There was no use trying to hold his breath just to prolong his life by a couple minutes. He put his head to the window, to look at Sydney one more time before he let his life go.
He was giving up. She pounded against the glass with her fist in frustration. She frantically searched around her with tearing eyes, looking for something that would help her. She would not let him die. She would not. She spotted a fire extinguisher and ran towards it, grabbed it, and with one mighty thrust she heaved it at the window. It didn't budge so she hit it again, and again. She hit it repeatedly, feeling that her hands could not go as fast as she wanted them to. She saw him shaking his head, knocking at the window, telling her not to try. The pressure against the glass was too great, he knew it could not be broken. He had a feeling that she knew too.
She knew, but she didn't care. She continued to bash at the door with the metal cylinder, at the point of breakdown. She felt a hand grab at her back. A couple of guards had finally been sent down to apprehend her. They spun her around as she tried to fight them off, but obviously was caught off guard. Her attempts at defense failed, causing her and the guards to tumble to the ground. She escaped their grasp long enough to sit up at turn back to the window, looking through it to only find contorted bubbles flowing through the black liquid, no Vaughn in sight. She gave a cry of despair as the guards came up behind her and grabbed her hands. She didn't think to fight back. She was sick of fighting, sick of her double agent life, sick of losing people she loved dearly.
And now she lost Vaughn, she thought bitterly as she felt the gun of the security guards come up and strike her against her head, feeling herself give in to the pitch black. Black as the water behind the window.
***
She was released. Why didn't that surprise her? After three days of interrogation, torture, not to mention her reunion with her mother, they had let her go. Why hadn't they killed her? She leaned heavily against the brick wall, her limbs burning with pain. She sank down to the cool pavement and looked out onto the streets of Taipei. People were bustling down the streets, too busy with their own lives to pay attention to the blue-haired white woman who was obviously injured. Her fingers were bleeding, nails cracked where the needles of pain were shoved in, trying to force her to talk. She did not talk, of course, even with the truth serum pumping through her veins. She had been trained to handle it.
What she hadn't been trained for was the emotions that poured through her. She had met her mother, after years of wondering who she was and why she had done this to her and her father. Yes, she hurt because of that, the way her mother stared her down coldly as if she was another agent to get information out of. But what hurt most was the loss of Vaughn.
She had felt their relationship grow over the last few months. She had become aware of his feelings back at Christmas when she had recieved a present from him. It was against policy to give gifts showing favoritism. So she was immediately alerted to his affections when he gave her a bracelet. His feelings were confirmed when he requested to go on this mission with her, going against the CIA and risking his life to save her dear friend, Will. She had shared his affections, but they both knew that agents could not become involved. It was frowned upon, and also agents' lives were being threatened everyday, and that if one of them would become injured or killed on the job, it would be unbearable for the surviving partner.
She wiped away a tear. It was too late for that now, she thought. He's already gone and I'm already hurt. Now she'll never know how far they could have gone together, if she had ever confessed to him. It was too late.
She realized she had been staring aimlessly for a long period of time and looked around, suddenly remembering that she had to get help, to get off the streets. She tried to push herself to her feet but quickly came to find that her legs were useless to her. They lay out in front of her, dull shooting pains traveling up her side. She reached up and grabbed the pant leg of a citizen that was passing by.
"Excuse me, do you speak English?"
The asian woman looked down at the strange girl and shrugged. "No Ee-glish" She seemed genuinely sorry not to be able to help this injured american.
Sydney switched over to another language. "Parlez-vous français?"
The woman understood this time and nodded. "Oui, je."
Syndey nodded, relieved. "Avez-vous un téléphone cellulaire?"
"Oui, je."
"Peux je l'emploie svp, il est une urgence."
The woman nodded furiously and pulled out a cell phone from her pocket. "Oui, naturellement."
Sydney reached up to grab the phone, but hesitated and let her hand down. "Pouvez-vous composer le numéro pour moi? Mes doigts sont... ont blessé. "
The lady nodded in sympathy. "Oui"
"Cadran 92-763-743-4532. Merci."
She dialed the number and handed the phone to Sydney. She tucked the phone between her shoulder and cheek. She only needed to wait for one ring before the other lne was picked up. "Hello?" said a voice eagerly.
"Dad? It's me."
"Sydney! Where are you? We have been keeping Khasinau's club under close supervision and we didn't see them take you out."
A voice shouted from the background. "Sydney? Are you alright?" Will seemed worried.
"I'm fine, I think. First of all, it's not Khasinau's club. And second of all, I don't want to talk about it. Can you come and get me? I am a few blocks from there at..." She looked around for a landmark. "...um, Lien- hueng street?"
"Can you walk?"
The pain in her legs told her no. "I don't think so."
"Ok. I'll send somebody to get you. Stay where you are."
"Thanks Dad." She handed the phone back to the woman. "Merci beaucoup. Je suis fait maintenant."
The lady took the phone back, turned it off, nodded her head and walked off.
***
It was only a matter of minutes before she heard a van pull up the on the back road behind her. She didn't turn her head, it hurt so much. It had grown stiff from leaning against the cold brick wall. Firm footsteps walked in her direction, and they stopped short behind her.
"Dad?"
There was no answer. Sydney instantly became suspicous, going through the possibilities. Did her mother have any more questions? Was it SD-6? Did Dixon report her? She was afraid. Her legs wouldn't work and her fingers were throbbing intensely. She couldn't defend herself even if she tried. She sat there and waited with aprehension as the figure squatted down next to her, and laid a warm hand on her shoulder.
There was silence for a bit, then after a second or two a jagged breath was taken. "Oh Sydney, I'm so sorry."
That voice sounded familiar, but it couldn't be. She had to see his face. She strained her neck and forced it to move in the direction of the voice. Oh please don't be another trick, she thought, as she tried to see him through the bright light. The face came into focus slowly. Recognition spread over her face as tears started to flow freely. She smiled. A look of relief, utter joy and love. He stroked her battered cheek and leaned in to kiss her softly. It was him. The face in the window.
THE END
Author: Abby (sugaraygal@hotmail.com)
Rating: G
Comments: Sydney/Vaughn. My first Alias fan fic. Set during and after the season finale of first season.
Discalimer: All Alias characters belong to ABC, but I don't care...
The seconds seemed like hours.
Her hand flew up to the glass, her terror obviously playing across her features. He wasn't supposed to be there, this was all a mistake. And now he was going to die. She could not understand why he was so calm. He was trapped, he knew it and she knew it. He raised his hand up to rest against the place where her hand was on the other side. He could feel the warmth coming from hers, and looked up to see her face. She was panicking, but he knew it would not help either of them if he flailed about screaming for help. Instead, in one last moment, he looked upon her with all the love and adoration he had never been able to show before. Behind him he could feel the cool mist of the wall of water coming upon him.
Before she could respond, his face pressed up against the plexiglass, the tons of pitch black water pinning him against the door. Sydney looked on in shock as his body was swallowed up by the massive flood.
The water finally grew calm enough that he could push himself off the door. He opened his eyes. He knew it would only be a matter of minutes left before he ran out of air. There was no use trying to hold his breath just to prolong his life by a couple minutes. He put his head to the window, to look at Sydney one more time before he let his life go.
He was giving up. She pounded against the glass with her fist in frustration. She frantically searched around her with tearing eyes, looking for something that would help her. She would not let him die. She would not. She spotted a fire extinguisher and ran towards it, grabbed it, and with one mighty thrust she heaved it at the window. It didn't budge so she hit it again, and again. She hit it repeatedly, feeling that her hands could not go as fast as she wanted them to. She saw him shaking his head, knocking at the window, telling her not to try. The pressure against the glass was too great, he knew it could not be broken. He had a feeling that she knew too.
She knew, but she didn't care. She continued to bash at the door with the metal cylinder, at the point of breakdown. She felt a hand grab at her back. A couple of guards had finally been sent down to apprehend her. They spun her around as she tried to fight them off, but obviously was caught off guard. Her attempts at defense failed, causing her and the guards to tumble to the ground. She escaped their grasp long enough to sit up at turn back to the window, looking through it to only find contorted bubbles flowing through the black liquid, no Vaughn in sight. She gave a cry of despair as the guards came up behind her and grabbed her hands. She didn't think to fight back. She was sick of fighting, sick of her double agent life, sick of losing people she loved dearly.
And now she lost Vaughn, she thought bitterly as she felt the gun of the security guards come up and strike her against her head, feeling herself give in to the pitch black. Black as the water behind the window.
***
She was released. Why didn't that surprise her? After three days of interrogation, torture, not to mention her reunion with her mother, they had let her go. Why hadn't they killed her? She leaned heavily against the brick wall, her limbs burning with pain. She sank down to the cool pavement and looked out onto the streets of Taipei. People were bustling down the streets, too busy with their own lives to pay attention to the blue-haired white woman who was obviously injured. Her fingers were bleeding, nails cracked where the needles of pain were shoved in, trying to force her to talk. She did not talk, of course, even with the truth serum pumping through her veins. She had been trained to handle it.
What she hadn't been trained for was the emotions that poured through her. She had met her mother, after years of wondering who she was and why she had done this to her and her father. Yes, she hurt because of that, the way her mother stared her down coldly as if she was another agent to get information out of. But what hurt most was the loss of Vaughn.
She had felt their relationship grow over the last few months. She had become aware of his feelings back at Christmas when she had recieved a present from him. It was against policy to give gifts showing favoritism. So she was immediately alerted to his affections when he gave her a bracelet. His feelings were confirmed when he requested to go on this mission with her, going against the CIA and risking his life to save her dear friend, Will. She had shared his affections, but they both knew that agents could not become involved. It was frowned upon, and also agents' lives were being threatened everyday, and that if one of them would become injured or killed on the job, it would be unbearable for the surviving partner.
She wiped away a tear. It was too late for that now, she thought. He's already gone and I'm already hurt. Now she'll never know how far they could have gone together, if she had ever confessed to him. It was too late.
She realized she had been staring aimlessly for a long period of time and looked around, suddenly remembering that she had to get help, to get off the streets. She tried to push herself to her feet but quickly came to find that her legs were useless to her. They lay out in front of her, dull shooting pains traveling up her side. She reached up and grabbed the pant leg of a citizen that was passing by.
"Excuse me, do you speak English?"
The asian woman looked down at the strange girl and shrugged. "No Ee-glish" She seemed genuinely sorry not to be able to help this injured american.
Sydney switched over to another language. "Parlez-vous français?"
The woman understood this time and nodded. "Oui, je."
Syndey nodded, relieved. "Avez-vous un téléphone cellulaire?"
"Oui, je."
"Peux je l'emploie svp, il est une urgence."
The woman nodded furiously and pulled out a cell phone from her pocket. "Oui, naturellement."
Sydney reached up to grab the phone, but hesitated and let her hand down. "Pouvez-vous composer le numéro pour moi? Mes doigts sont... ont blessé. "
The lady nodded in sympathy. "Oui"
"Cadran 92-763-743-4532. Merci."
She dialed the number and handed the phone to Sydney. She tucked the phone between her shoulder and cheek. She only needed to wait for one ring before the other lne was picked up. "Hello?" said a voice eagerly.
"Dad? It's me."
"Sydney! Where are you? We have been keeping Khasinau's club under close supervision and we didn't see them take you out."
A voice shouted from the background. "Sydney? Are you alright?" Will seemed worried.
"I'm fine, I think. First of all, it's not Khasinau's club. And second of all, I don't want to talk about it. Can you come and get me? I am a few blocks from there at..." She looked around for a landmark. "...um, Lien- hueng street?"
"Can you walk?"
The pain in her legs told her no. "I don't think so."
"Ok. I'll send somebody to get you. Stay where you are."
"Thanks Dad." She handed the phone back to the woman. "Merci beaucoup. Je suis fait maintenant."
The lady took the phone back, turned it off, nodded her head and walked off.
***
It was only a matter of minutes before she heard a van pull up the on the back road behind her. She didn't turn her head, it hurt so much. It had grown stiff from leaning against the cold brick wall. Firm footsteps walked in her direction, and they stopped short behind her.
"Dad?"
There was no answer. Sydney instantly became suspicous, going through the possibilities. Did her mother have any more questions? Was it SD-6? Did Dixon report her? She was afraid. Her legs wouldn't work and her fingers were throbbing intensely. She couldn't defend herself even if she tried. She sat there and waited with aprehension as the figure squatted down next to her, and laid a warm hand on her shoulder.
There was silence for a bit, then after a second or two a jagged breath was taken. "Oh Sydney, I'm so sorry."
That voice sounded familiar, but it couldn't be. She had to see his face. She strained her neck and forced it to move in the direction of the voice. Oh please don't be another trick, she thought, as she tried to see him through the bright light. The face came into focus slowly. Recognition spread over her face as tears started to flow freely. She smiled. A look of relief, utter joy and love. He stroked her battered cheek and leaned in to kiss her softly. It was him. The face in the window.
THE END