Title: Only in Dreams

Written by: Glaurificus

Rating: PG

Category: General, angst

Disclaimer: I don't own The Tea Party or Alias, so you can't just call those lawyers off now, thank you very much.

Author's Note: Just a little peak inside the subconscious of everybody's favourite spies.

Some will be angsty; some will funny, but hopefully, all will be enjoyable! As always, read and review.

Archivage: Just gimme a shout. Gimme gimme gimme!

"With nothing to do you'd waste away,

Obscured in exile

They've witnessed the times you've gone astray.

Who's fault? Now you're thinking."

Heaven Coming Down - The Tea Party

The sun was bright and blissful as it shone down on a group of happy players. Sydney, Irina, Jack, and Vaughn were all enjoying a leisurely game of tennis on a large court. Will and Francie were off to the side, making lemonade. Everyone and everything was perfectly content.

            "You really shouldn't be afraid, dear", Irina said, turning briefly to her daughter. "Aggression is a natural tendency, and nothing to be ashamed of."

            "I know." replied Sydney. Her keen eyes surveyed the ball as it connected with her father's racket and came soundlessly towards hers. "I just don't have the time to deal with it." With a slight ping, the ball went back to the men's side of the court.

            "The big hand is on the four, and the little hand is on the seven" Will called out suddenly. "What time is that?"

            "Time to get cracking on that lemonade." Vaughn snapped as he returned Sydney's shot. "We're all working hard and we need a treat, so make yourself useful, desk agent." Slightly hurt, but knowing better than to talk back, Will went back to helping Francie with the lemonade.

            "Now, now boys" Jack chided gently. "I don't want to hear any fighting. This is all for Sydney's benefit, and we mustn't ruin it for her." The ball scaled to net to meet Irina.

            "What is?" Sydney asked as she watched her mother's graceful form arch into a commanding backhand. However, while she was questioning the way of things, she missed Vaughn's volley.

            "Never you mind sweetheart," Irina said gently as she kissed her daughter on the forehead. "Just get the ball back and we can keep going with this. We'll all be okay."

            Sydney turned to where the ball had stopped in a thick tangle of bushes. She could see its vague outline but the bushes were thorny and she knew that is she went in she would most certainly get hurt. "No, I can't." Sydney said, looking pleadingly to her mother. In the background, Vaughn and Will were fist fighting about who was going to get the first glass. Vaughn had already taken the first sip, but Will still thought he had a claim because he had made the drink.

            Looking back to her mother, Sydney saw Jack coming up behind Irina, and put his arm around her waist. "Do what your mother tells you, Sydney," he said, "Or the boys will splash our drinks all over the place with their silly fighting."

            Sydney smiled "Alright, I'll be quick." With a glance back, she saw Irina step between the boys and hand the pitcher of lemonade to a triumphant Vaughn while Jack took Will aside and gave him a lecture on the value of knowing when to make your move.

            Sydney moved closer to the woods. All her instincts told her not to go, but if her parents said it would be all right, then why wouldn't it be? Her steps were cautious at first, but they grew bolder as she approached the bramble. It seemed to clear, revealing the lobby of the Ops Centre.

            Where people would normally work and mill about, there was no one and silence dominated the scene. "I'll never find it here." Sydney said softly to herself.

"I heard this place has everything." came a voice from behind her. Dixon walked slowly up to her, his expression calm and serene. "Why wouldn't this place have your ball?"

            Sydney was puzzled. She had expected him to be mad at her but here he was, talking to her like old times. But he was missing his ball, and guilt raged about in her head. "I'm sorry they don't have yours. I know Diane would've liked it back." She hung her head and, felt tears stream down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to use you!" she sobbed.

He took her face in his hands. "It's okay, partner," he said soothingly. "I guess I'll have to find another ball." Sydney smiled at him. "Are you sure you're okay?" she asked gently. "Oh, I'm fine, Bluebird." he answered. "I'm more worried about you. Things have changed right under you, and you can't even see it."

Confused, Sydney looked down at her feet. They were the same, clad (as always) in smart, sensible black pumps. She looked back up to Dixon. "I don't understand," she said, eyes questioning.

He held out his hand and tenderly stroked the side of her face. "It's okay, Syd. You just have to know what to see." And with that, Dixon faded away.

Sydney turned away from where Dixon had been standing, and started down the hallway to her mother's cell. She wasn't surprised to find the guard station empty, so she decided to try to fit in between the gates. Walking over to the bars, Sydney was surprised that she fit through them quite easily. "Someone should fix that." she though to herself. "I know my mother would never try to escape, but if Kendall finds out, he's going to be mad."

She continued down the hall to its end and her mother's glass cage. However, Irina was not the one in it.

Much to her delighted surprise, Sloane was seated on her mother's metal cot. He seemed to be staring at something on the wall very intently, and Sydney took a more than a hint of pleasure at breaking his concentration.

"You look good behind glass," she said mockingly. However, Sloane just stared straight ahead at his wall. Frustrated, Sydney tried again. "Does Emily know what you've done?" she said, hoping for him to even blink. Nothing. Finally, Sydney beat her fists on the glass. "Can you even see me, old man?" she shouted, wondering briefly if the cell had been soundproofed since her mother's departure. After a long pause and a deeply drawn breath, Sloane turned his head towards her and sneered. "Do you really think you can keep me in here?" he asked mockingly. "I know you, Agent Sydney Bristow. You'll have to let me out at some point; you need me."

"For what?" Sydney blasted. "To send me on missions, to put me in danger, to repulse me?" she continued. "For seven years, I lived in your vile stench of a presence, pretended to look lovingly at you, even made you think I loved you, but it was all a plot, you sick sonofabitch! Do you hear me? I'm the one with the power here! You are nothing but an impotent, doddering old man!" she screamed. Taking several quick, shallow breaths, she calmed herself. "You are nothing to me." she finished coldly and began to walk away.

However, Sloane wasn't done. "You still don't know, do you?" he questioned. Sydney turned back, ready to contradict anything he said. His mouth turned up at the corners in a parody of a smile. "Of course not. I'm not the blind one here, Agent Bristow." he sneered. "You're the one who can't even tell when the wind changes direction, and everyone changes sides. Poor girl. You're the only one who can't see what's so plainly in front of her face."  He turned back to staring at his wall, leaving Sydney alone with her confusion. "What are you talking about?" she asked impatiently, but Sloane refused to look her way. He replied only: "You have to know what to see." Then Sloane and the cellblock faded.

Sydney awoke with a start, feeling more than a little unsettled.