Disclaimer: I have no affiliation with or any claim to Alias or its characters – just the creative liberties I have taken with this piece.
A/N: This is meant to take place during those infamous lost months between the third and fourth season. This story is from Marshall, Weiss and Vaughn's perspective. This is the first of two stories that take place during this time. The next one, will be three different characters, I'd like for it to be all female characters but I think I may fall short because despite the main character, it's kind of a male dominated show – if you wanna offer up any suggestions, let me know. I may wait until later in the season to start that one though because from what I've heard… well I guess you'll have to just watch the show Please read and respond!
Marshall Flinkman sat tinkering with his soddering iron, working on his new project for Sydney: a chip disguised as an earring that can locate a person in a crowd by their voice. As he tried to adjust the chip to attach another piece, the iron slipped into his finger.
"Nice job, Marshall. Way to be." He scolded himself as he examined the newly forming blister on his finger. He pulled the first aid kit out of his desk drawer and dressed his burn. For the first time in hours, he glanced out his window into the now nearly empty office. Glancing at the clock, he muttered a curse under his breath. Carrie was going to eat him alive. That meant lots of yelling and then lots of silence. This was the third time he'd missed dinner in the past week. As if she had read his mind, his office phone rang.
He hesitated. Swallowing hard, he picked the receiver up slowly. "Hi, honey."
"Marshall? Have you looked at the clock? Or is it 'broken' again? Where the hell are you?" He could just see her, standing in their kitchen; hand on her hip with the look of death he'd seen so many times. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing at the image.
"I know what time it is. I'm sorry, Carrie. I was, um…" he couldn't bare to hear her "you're never home anymore" guilt trip, he needed an excuse. He spotted Weiss sitting at his desk across the office, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Weiss and I had to work on a project that just couldn't wait until tomorrow. I'm leaving soon, I promise. See you in a bit." He hung up the phone before she could protest. He already knew he was in for it when he got home. Hopefully, Mitchell would still be up. He resolved to leave when Weiss did hoping it would make himself feel less guilty about lying.
"Marshall? What are you still doing here, man?" Weiss said, popping his head around the door.
"Um… yeah, about that…" Weiss rolled his eyes at him.
"Again? Dude, get yourself an alarm. Carrie will have my head for helping you lie to her. You're not the one who has to work with her."
"No, but I'm the one who has to live with her." Weiss laughed at him. "I owe you, all right. I'm working on the whole leaving on time thing."
"Point and match. Just know that if she comes for my head, you're next."
As Weiss walked away, Marshall muttered, "You have no idea" started packing his briefcase.
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Eric Weiss sat back at his desk and blinked at his computer screen. Before he got up for coffee, he'd read the same page three times. Since Lauren's death, the agency had been eerily subdued. Of course there are always terrorists on the brink of attack or some volatile mastermind selling weapons to destroy something or other; but it was different some how. The intensity had changed. Nothing seemed as personal as it once did. With Lauren gone and Sark in custody, that left only Sloane to be found: except no one was really looking. It was like everyone knew some secret he didn't and no one was speaking any more. They went out, completed their missions, did their debriefs and reports and went home, silently without very much small talk in between. This of course meant that at that moment, Weiss was one of half a dozen people still in the office after normal hours, and as per usual, having had nothing better to do because of his friends' lack of social interest, he was doing busy work that really had nothing to do with anything.
His computer screen froze as he tried to scroll back up to the top. Rather than getting frustrated and hitting it like he normally did, he just pushed the power button and left it off. It's a sign. The Cheetos are sending me messages from their nest in the couch, he thought, shoving the papers he'd been referencing into his top drawer. He said a hasty good bye to the few agents left in the audience, including Marshall, who was rushing around his office putting away his tools, and headed out into the deserted parking garage toward his car.
It was just after midnight when he pulled into his parking space at his apartment building. He stood for a few moments outside of his door, fumbling loudly through his pockets for the keys he had just used to enter the building a few minutes before. Before he could find them, the door opened to reveal a sleepy looking Vaughn in boxers and a t-shirt.
"You know, I don't think the neighbors are awake yet, maybe you could make more noise." He chided, stepping aside so Weiss could come in.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Weiss retorted, setting his briefcase on the table with a defiant thud, "I wasn't aware that an overly broody, half naked CIA agent with an apartment of his own was going to be sleeping on my couch. I'll try to be more considerate next time."
Vaughn smirked at him and sat back down on the couch. Weiss grabbed the carton of orange juice out of the fridge and plopped down into the easy chair across from Vaughn.
"Dude, you look like hell. Not that I mind, but why are you back here?" he asked, following his question with a satisfying chug of juice.
"That is really disgusting. Remind not to drink anything but water while I'm here. I got back this afternoon. I drove up state for a few days to clear my head. I tried to go back to my apartment, but… I just couldn't bring myself to walk through the door. Syd's not returning my calls and rather than stay with Marshall and look at zillions of nauseatingly adorable pictures of Mitchell, I elected to put to use the spare key you gave to your place in case of emergency." Vaughn smiled sadly, staring down at the couch for a moment before looking back up.
"Well, all right then. But under no circumstances are you to mess with the nests of Cheetos I have formed in that couch. I'm saving them for later." Weiss said, putting the carton back in the refrigerator and heading toward his bedroom.
"Goodnight, Eric." Weiss gave him a salute in reply and closed the door.
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Vaughn lay awake for several hours after Weiss went to sleep. He knew he'd be sorry in the morning. In just a few short hours he had to be at the agency for what would be the start of many debriefings, interrogations and psych evaluations. Despite this, he felt sort of indifferent about it. He couldn't say that he really felt much about anything these days, except for maybe Sydney, but he wasn't sure he was ready to see her yet. Of course, she would be there tomorrow, going through the same amount of questioning he would. He just wasn't sure he wanted to feel anything yet. It would be so much easier to just be numb for awhile; it wouldn't solve anything, but it would feel better than dealing with the hundreds of different emotions that were breaking against the dam he'd built in his head.
In the weeks following Lauren's death, his memories of her would not leave his mind. Awake or sleeping, eyes opened or closed, images of her ran through his mind on a never-ending loop. Every night a different image, every night a different memory. Tonight's mental epic was of their wedding ceremony. Staring at Weiss's horribly textured ceiling, he could see that day moment for moment projected in front of him. Eye's open or closed; it didn't seem to matter anymore. He could see himself grinning stupidly as she walked toward him, Weiss standing next to him smirking. Bitterly, he thought about how beautiful she looked. He remembered how hard it was for him to wait until "I Do" to kiss her. It was so easy. He realized now that it was the first and only day that Sydney had not entered his thoughts.
He let it replay for another hour, getting more and more riled with each "I do". It was amazing how much so could tear him apart even in death. He couldn't take it anymore. He had already given her two years too many. She had broken him to an immeasurable degree. He could never put the pieces back together living like this. As he stared at white in front of him, something occurred to him that had not before. He suddenly knew what he needed to do. This was the answer. This was what he needed. Tomorrow he could start over. He could learn to live as himself again. At this thought he sat up, a smile forming at the edge of his lips. Tonight was the night.
