Title: Duplicity
Summary: An Alias crossover with Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, plenty of angst!
DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to I don't own any of these glorious songs or characters!
This is a little fan fic I've been writing over the past while. I'm sure some of you have read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice? Well it's my fave story of all-time and I thought it would make an excellent crossover story with Alias. I think Lizzy and Darcy have to go through as much and learn an awful a lot about each other before they can be a couple – the same with Syd and Vaughn. Although my story is much more true to the plot of Alias than of P&P, more inspired by its characters. It's amazing how well some of Austen's characters fit in with the Alias gang. I'm not sure where the plot is going to go but I have started in a very similar vein to the first Alias episode. Enjoy!
Love needs its martyrs
Needs its sacrifices
They live for your beauty
And pay for their vices
Love will be the death of
My lonely soul brothers
But their spirit shall live on in
The hearts of all lovers
Your holding court
With your lips and your smile
Your body's a halo
Their minds are on trial
Sure as adam is eve
Sure as jonah turned whaler
They're crooked love thieves
And you are their jailor
The Love Thieves – Depeche Mode, 1997
Somewhere in the Caribbean – September 2004
It was scorching summer night – one where the slight, purring breeze that came from the depths of the ocean only rustled the trees slightly from their heat-induced slumber. The kind of evening where to think was to sweat, and perspire was what this occupant of a secluded villa did, tucked away from prying eyes, only disturbed by the sweet lull of the ocean.
A wisp of air gently removed the soft form of curls that was matted to the front of her face, allowing Elizabeth Bristow a moment of physical comfort, although her mind was far from being at ease. A trickle of perspiration minded its way down from the mass of curls at the back of her head, making a path down a pair of toned shoulders, along the spine, and pooling at the hollow of her lower back. Its journey was not unlike the one endured by its resident – it had reached its destination, but would never quite disappear from body or mind.
'Three years…' she murmured to no one in particular – maybe finding solace in the spirit of the wind.
Elizabeth Bristow had been free for some time now. Over seven months, in fact. Free to go where she pleased; free from all the lies; free to be a part of the lives of those who mattered to her.
Except one person.
The one person who carried her through two-and-a-half years of torture, fabrication, deception, horror and most disgustingly, duplicity.
For most of her young existence, Elizabeth Bristow led a double life. Both college coed and international spy. For the first time this evening she cracked a smile, amazed at the absurdity of it all. But it really wasn't highly amusing to Elizabeth – no, quite the contrary.
Months later she still paused whenever she crossed the street, aware of a peculiar vehicles or men hovering in a local shop. The shrill of the telephone would rouse the adrenaline anticipation in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't remember the last time she had physical contact with anyone – whether it be for comfort, confusion or control. Sleeping for more than a few hours at a time was abnormal. And pizza – no, she could not eat pizza again when it brought tears to her eyes and her heart to her throat.
The last time she saw him was at the end of her final mission. She saw relief, in addition to uncertainty pooled in the depth of his dark orbs. He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
'They're taking you to a safe house with your father. Lie low.'
She stared directly into his eyes, wanting to say, to do, so much more. But the moment was gone. As she walked to the sedan that would lead her to being her new life, she looked over her shoulder one last time to see him standing at the door.
'I will come to you!'
An unspoken but resounding promise that for Elizabeth, opened the flood gates of years of pent-up emotions no agent could reveal. As she sobbed into his arms, her father provided the comfort that only a paternal man could give to his only child. If she could have seen through the blurriness of her own tears, she may have noticed the lone tear that travelled down the cheek of her handler, resting on his chin, as two hearts simultaneously shattered into a thousand pieces.
Summary: An Alias crossover with Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, plenty of angst!
DISCLAIMER: As much as I would like to I don't own any of these glorious songs or characters!
This is a little fan fic I've been writing over the past while. I'm sure some of you have read Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice? Well it's my fave story of all-time and I thought it would make an excellent crossover story with Alias. I think Lizzy and Darcy have to go through as much and learn an awful a lot about each other before they can be a couple – the same with Syd and Vaughn. Although my story is much more true to the plot of Alias than of P&P, more inspired by its characters. It's amazing how well some of Austen's characters fit in with the Alias gang. I'm not sure where the plot is going to go but I have started in a very similar vein to the first Alias episode. Enjoy!
Love needs its martyrs
Needs its sacrifices
They live for your beauty
And pay for their vices
Love will be the death of
My lonely soul brothers
But their spirit shall live on in
The hearts of all lovers
Your holding court
With your lips and your smile
Your body's a halo
Their minds are on trial
Sure as adam is eve
Sure as jonah turned whaler
They're crooked love thieves
And you are their jailor
The Love Thieves – Depeche Mode, 1997
Somewhere in the Caribbean – September 2004
It was scorching summer night – one where the slight, purring breeze that came from the depths of the ocean only rustled the trees slightly from their heat-induced slumber. The kind of evening where to think was to sweat, and perspire was what this occupant of a secluded villa did, tucked away from prying eyes, only disturbed by the sweet lull of the ocean.
A wisp of air gently removed the soft form of curls that was matted to the front of her face, allowing Elizabeth Bristow a moment of physical comfort, although her mind was far from being at ease. A trickle of perspiration minded its way down from the mass of curls at the back of her head, making a path down a pair of toned shoulders, along the spine, and pooling at the hollow of her lower back. Its journey was not unlike the one endured by its resident – it had reached its destination, but would never quite disappear from body or mind.
'Three years…' she murmured to no one in particular – maybe finding solace in the spirit of the wind.
Elizabeth Bristow had been free for some time now. Over seven months, in fact. Free to go where she pleased; free from all the lies; free to be a part of the lives of those who mattered to her.
Except one person.
The one person who carried her through two-and-a-half years of torture, fabrication, deception, horror and most disgustingly, duplicity.
For most of her young existence, Elizabeth Bristow led a double life. Both college coed and international spy. For the first time this evening she cracked a smile, amazed at the absurdity of it all. But it really wasn't highly amusing to Elizabeth – no, quite the contrary.
Months later she still paused whenever she crossed the street, aware of a peculiar vehicles or men hovering in a local shop. The shrill of the telephone would rouse the adrenaline anticipation in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't remember the last time she had physical contact with anyone – whether it be for comfort, confusion or control. Sleeping for more than a few hours at a time was abnormal. And pizza – no, she could not eat pizza again when it brought tears to her eyes and her heart to her throat.
The last time she saw him was at the end of her final mission. She saw relief, in addition to uncertainty pooled in the depth of his dark orbs. He took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.
'They're taking you to a safe house with your father. Lie low.'
She stared directly into his eyes, wanting to say, to do, so much more. But the moment was gone. As she walked to the sedan that would lead her to being her new life, she looked over her shoulder one last time to see him standing at the door.
'I will come to you!'
An unspoken but resounding promise that for Elizabeth, opened the flood gates of years of pent-up emotions no agent could reveal. As she sobbed into his arms, her father provided the comfort that only a paternal man could give to his only child. If she could have seen through the blurriness of her own tears, she may have noticed the lone tear that travelled down the cheek of her handler, resting on his chin, as two hearts simultaneously shattered into a thousand pieces.