Dead Drop-G
Alias-S/V/other
Peregrine (Elizabeth Klisiewicz)
This is about the randomness of life forming a pattern. And someone noticing Syd and Vaughn at the business of their dead drops.
Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone and is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.
*****
Do you ever wonder about the masses of humanity that surround you? The endless parade of traffic on the highway. The prattling and whining of people shoving past you on the sidewalk. All of them anonymous. Ignorant in their bliss. Cocooned by the security of their four walls and their oversized SUVs. Day in and day out, they repeat their boring little routines.
Imagine yourself walking in your favorite park, shaded from the summer sun by the canopy of elm leaves. Scuffling your feet and enjoying the tiny breeze that fans your neck. And at the moment when you stop to rest, you see her at a nearby picnic table. Scribbling on a paper towel like her life is about to end. Digging in with her pen. Emphasizing certain words. Lovely face tight with tension as she concentrates. Startled by the sudden arrival of her friend. Quickly recovering and laughing over some joke. Wadding up the paper as she gets to her feet. Moseying toward the same trash can that she always uses. Looking over her shoulder a few times, never noticing you standing in the shadows. Waiting for the next act.
*****
You never noticed them the first few times. It was always someone different, loitering in a park where vagrants spent the night, fancy shoes under their overalls, giving them away every time. So called masters of disguise. Transparent in their machinations. The fat, rumpled guy with the Columbo coat. His heavyset friend with the yo-yo and impatient frown. And the movie-star-handsome dude with the perpetual frown lines, wearing his heart on his sleeve.
He draws the attention of every homeless person under 60. How can he not? Ordinary mortals don't look like that or have eyes like new spring leaves. You see someone like that and you don't forget them easily. And then you see them a second time and a pattern starts to form in your mind. One girl and one guy. A connection where none should exist.
*****
You shouldn't be here watching them. You have better things to do. Like searching for a job. Or doing the volunteer work you always mean to do. But here you stand. Stalker material. Drawn closer to the seemingly random lives of these two people. Drawn into their intrigue by a strip of paper towel. And that's when you take it one step further.
Ten steps to the trash. Five more tiny steps. Watching the drunks and crack-heads to see if they're about to get a clue. Reassured by the snores and zoned out smiles, you thrust your hands through a cloud of wasps and root through a smelly pile of garbage. And that's when you see him. Moving at angles and stopping every few feet. When he's ten yards away, you straighten and smile brightly.
And he smiles back. The friendly way that strangers do when you pass in the street. Uncertain, even hesitant. Wondering what you are doing at his barrel. The one where she makes her dead drops.
Your fingers uncurl and he stares in alarm at the sticky mass of paper in your fist. The one you toss at his chest.
"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."
Secret spies. Secret lovers.
Dead drops.
*****
The End
AN: I was in a really weird mood and felt compelled to write this. Not at all my usual style and written in under an hour.