How Can They Not See What I See?

by Aenigmatis

An impartial third party is assigned to tail two people believed to be hiding something.

Title: How Can They Not See What I See?

Author: Aenigmatis

E-mail: fallmark18@aol.com

Feedback: Please, good or bad, I really don't care.

Distribution: Sure, just e-mail me the URL of your site.

Disclaimer: Alias and everything you recognize is owned by ABC and Touchtone and is the creation of J.J. Abrams and Bad Robot Productions. Ehlana and all mistakes are mine alone.

Classification: Angst, Romance

Rating: PG

Summary: An impartial third party is assigned to tail two people believed to be hiding something.

"Love does not begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."

-James Baldwin-

            To understand my intricate tale of intrigue, shadows, and forbidden love, you must first understand me. No story is complete without a history, and although my aforementioned tale is not generally about me, it is colored by my past.

            In all actuality, I don't exist. Before you get the wrong idea, I am flesh and blood just like the rest of the world, although they probably could have created something that wasn't. But officially, I do not exist.

            I never knew my parents. I grew up in a cold environment. The people who raised me were deadpan and refused to tell me their names. The general consensus was that no emotional attachments, mine to other people, were good.

            There are no documents about me outside of the Organization. No birth certificate. No medical records. No drivers license. I am a ghost that floats through using assumed identities like most people use ink pens. I don't even have a real last name. I am simply Ehlana.

            I had the best tutors for my education. I studied history from the dawn of time to the present. Calculus, trigonometry, and astro-physics came easy to me. I became fluent in numerous languages. I excelled in various martial arts, even though I'm still partial to my first, Tae Kwon Do. I usually revert to it in dire situations.

            All in all, the Organization had done an excellent job of creating an emotionless, stealthy killing-machine, but they had made one crucial mistake. They had given me free reign of their extensive library. They had given me access to exactly the things that they had tried to keep away from me. Thousands of authors, from Dickinson to Shakespeare, taught me things like compassion, trust, and love. Things that my keepers had conveniently overlooked. My supposed placidness, natural covertness, and objectiveness were probably the reasons I was given these assignments.

            My presence and no-nonsense approach to assignments had only reached a few outlets as of recently. Two of these being the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States of America and a rouge group called SD-6. My involvement with both is actually very ironic and humorous when I look back on it.

            I was contacted by the Organization one Tuesday morning. My instructions were to travel to Los Angeles, California using one of my fake passports. I was supposed to take at least two different cabs to Credit Dauphine, the front for SD-6 headquarters, and meet with its head, Arvin Sloane.

            When I walked into his office it reminded me of a greenhouse where all of the plants had died and been carried away. The furnishings were stainless steel and the walls were beveled glass. He was slightly reclined in the desk chair with his hands clashed in front of him. He radiated evil as if it were seeping through all of his pores. But when he spoke, his soft, kind voice almost took me off guard.

            "Ehlana. I've been told by my colleagues that you are the foremost active mercenary on the planet. While that is good to know, I am more interested in your abilities as a tail. I have an operative that I believe is hiding something from me, and I don't like being left in the dark." He gave me the kind of look that because of my books I envisioned a father using when reprimanding his beloved only child. I simply nodded as he slid me a photo.

            "Her name is Sydney Bristow. She should be coming in about the time you're leaving. On your way out an agent will provide you with a copy of Sydney's file. Whatever she's hiding, I want to know," he calmly stated like he investigated his own agents rather frequently.

            "I've already done a little digging. If she's as good as I think she is this may take awhile," I told him. It going to be a welcome break from my usually tragic missions.

            Our meeting was concluded with simple, "Good," from Mr. Sloane.

            I walked out of the SD-6 headquarters into the garage below and saw my target, Sydney Bristow. She looked nothing like the spy I knew her to be, but then again I never looked like one either. Her business suit was neat and pressed with her black handbag over her shoulder. Straight brown hair cascaded to her shoulders. She still had a smile on her face and a bounce in her step from her apparently good day. If I hadn't been trained to see it I would have missed the emptiness and dread in her eyes when she looked at me.

            The file in my hand would keep me occupied tonight and if I got bored I could always watch television so I proceeded to my arranged hotel room. I remember that I wanted to have time for TV since the Organization only allowed me to watch it during down time on surveillance recon jobs. They thought its influence might corrupt me, as if they hadn't done a good enough job.

            I spent the next week following Ms. Bristow around. She went to her college classes where I became a new student. I just happened to always be grocery shopping at the same time she did. I was just passing by when she reported to SD-6 everyday. So far the only strange habit seemed to be a handsome, young man she met out at places, but pretended not to be talking to.

            After that first week I was assigned a second surveillance job. Normally I wouldn't have been given two tails, but they were both conveniently located in Los Angeles. How one city can hold so much corruption and so many hidden liaisons is beyond me. But it wouldn't be for very long. Soon I would learn that love and only love could keep your head above water in this business.

            I had no trouble getting into the CIA's L.A office. The security was comparable, but a tad too lax for somewhere of this importance.

            Devlin's office wasn't nearly as sterile as Sloane's had been, but it lacked the finesse that the stainless steel had possessed. He sat rigidly in his plush chair like he was wired on coffee or desperately needed some. His face was hollow. Disappointment, failure, and a hint of anger showed through his eyes; emotions he probably didn't even knew he was letting through. I knew before he even opened his mouth what he wanted

"I need information and I need it as soon as possible. You are to tail one of my agents, a Mr. Michael Vaughn. I believe that he is breaking operative/handler protocol. His relationship with his double may be somewhat too close." Some how I thought as much.

"Alright. I'll need to know the name of this double. Rest assured. The information will pass no one, not even my employers. I like to think I still have some ethics."

"Her name is Sydney Bristow. She is deep within SD-6."

I was able to keep the shock from registering on my face, but now I knew what she was keeping from Sloane. My only problem now was that I had to think of a credible story to feed to SD-6 without getting Ms. Bristow and Mr. Vaughn killed.

I nodded my acceptance and quickly left after he gave me a copy of my target's personnel file.

I now knew something that no one was supposed to know. I decided that I would have to go ahead and surveillance both people to satisfy my clients with a sufficient amount of thoroughness. This would allow me ample time to create a cover story to give to both groups. I had uncovered what Ms. Bristow was hiding, and judging by her picture, I already had a good idea what Mr. Vaughn's secret vice was.

Just in daily life when I am outside the Organization for any time I am amazed by the amount of sorrow and unrequited love there always is in the air. Of course you can't go down the street without seeing a couple in love, but far more common are the pain filled faces of people in love, but that aren't with the person they love. Vaughn and Bristow were classic examples. Their plight reminded me of Petruchio and Katharina from Taming of the Shrew.

I watched them meet at the hotdog stand in the park. They thought no one noticed them talking but I did. I always knew. I wouldn't have had to have figured out the secret to see the glint of love and the flashes of longing in their eyes.

They would accidentally brush against one another while looking through an outdoor flower booth. I saw the shudder of passion that neither of them thought that the other one saw.

At the quiet café he gave the inside of his paper a worried look full of concern as he sent her off on a dangerous mission. All the while she sipped and stared at the bottom of her tea as if it held the key that would let her out of the prison that kept her from him. Both wanted to proclaim their love to the world and to each other, but knowing they couldn't without risking their lives.

I only witnessed one warehouse meeting. Not because I couldn't get in, but because it hurt too much to watch. Here they could at least look at each other, but they rarely made eye contact. When they did, the impulse to hold one another was increased ten fold. It was as unbearable to watch as for them to feel. I could only handle the unresolved tension once.

I compiled a cover story and a folder to go with each for the two agencies. The CIA was getting a report that said that the relationship between Vaughn and Bristow was close to the line, but would not probably progress any farther. Their physical and emotional signs indicated that the closeness was an asset instead of a hindrance. SD-6 was getting falsified, but detailed information on a visiting businessman from Boston that Bristow didn't want them to know about. There was even a picture of Bristow with him included. I had created a face using a police composite program and superimposed it onto Vaughn's body in a shot of him Bristow. Now I'd just have to meet with Bristow to prep her in case Sloane called her on it.

I considered locations for my meeting with Bristow and resolved to have Vaughn meet her at the warehouse as usual. Of course, I would be orchestrating the whole thing. I waited for him to return home one night and approached him. He was coming up the sidewalk to the building when I stepped from my shadowed corner and pulled him into the nearby alley.

"Who do you work for?" Vaughn wasted no time in cutting to the chase. An admirable quality, but the kind that might get you seriously hurt if you said that to the wrong people.

"I am not here to harm you Mr. Vaughn. I work for an independent organization, but I am currently being employed by both SD-6 and the CIA. I need you to contact Ms. Bristow and arrange a meeting at the warehouse."

"You know about Sydney." The worry for her in his voice was not lost on me.

"Yes I do. I have information that is essential to both of you staying alive. Don't ask any more questions. Just make the call. I'll be waiting for both of you there." With that I sauntered out of the alley and disappeared out of view down the street.

Vaughn arrived at the warehouse first as usual, but of course I was already there. After a short wait Bristow came clipping along in her high heel boots. She was wearing the smile that reached to her ears, the idea of Vaughn always put it there, but it was quickly replaced by an expression filled with concern and bewilderment upon seeing me there.

"Vaughn. Who is she?" Bristow was scrutinizing me from head to toe. It took a few minutes for her to decide that she didn't know me, but slightly recognized me. The distrust and disdain on her face was priceless. I do so love to be an enigma.

"I don't know, but she says she has information regarding your safety. If this doesn't pan out we can always kill her." Neither gave any indication that they were bluffing and wouldn't try. I couldn't hold back the laughter.

"Oh I doubt that. I know more about you two than you do. If you tried to kill me I can guarantee that only I would walk out of here alive. Contrary to both of your beliefs I am here to help you." I then proceeded to tell them both the events that had led to that moment starting with my meeting with Sloane and ending at the present. They both sat stone faced the whole time. I finished my explanation and an idea hit me while they were thanking me for my discrete efforts.

"One last thing. I cannot leave this place with a clear conscience if I don't say this. You two are miserable and everyone around you can see it. I know better than most people why you shouldn't, but that doesn't matter. You love each other. That is all that matters. If you don't face it now, the pain and longing you fell every time you see each other will consume you and kill you. It doesn't have to. Love is that feeling at the point where pain and pleasure overlap. Embrace it and one another. Love like that doesn't come along everyday. If you let it slip away then they win no what else you do." I turned and walked out of the warehouse, leaving them to contemplate my words.

SD-6 and the CIA would get their reports and I had no doubt the Bristow and Vaughn would get each other. It feels good to make the world a better place. Even if for just two people.