Counterpoint-PG-Vaughn
Peregrine (E. Klisiewicz)
The weirdest things come to mind when you're dying.
Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone and is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.
counterpoint-any element that is juxtaposed and contrasted with another.
****Frost the pie.
Her words come spilling out in a toddler's rush.
Mommypleaseletmedoit.
Whining. Pleading. Confused. Needy.
ButyousaidIcould.
Your hands clench at the pain in her voice, and you want to wring Irina's neck. For all those bullets and lost lives, and for ruining an innocent child's life.
Vaughn.
You freeze at the sound of your name on her lips. The way she says it…seeming to taste its texture while she slumbers.
Michael.
There is a note you've never heard before. It resonates within you and stirs up deeply repressed emotions. Feelings you've sworn to bury…for the sake of the job. And the Agency's damned protocol. Trying to step back from the line you crossed so long ago.
When she wakes, she stares at you in wonder. Like she's ready to pinch herself at the sight of you. Looking far too much like the child who lost her innocence at such a young age. And you want to protect her, but there's nothing you can do.
Because the disease has you in its clutches. You hear the doctor's words, but you don't believe them. There are no symptoms, but the signs have been there all along.
The giddy way your heart skips whenever you see her. That stomach rumble when she smiles in a certain way. Your throat closing when you catch her scent. And the way you've been smiling for weeks.
Everyone notices. Friends, family, even the security guard on the third floor. And Dr. Barnett? She has less to say than the others, but her pen is unusually busy, and she throws these looks at you when she thinks you don't see her.
You know what they're saying, and you don't give a damn. And on that morning when you see the blood, it only proves what you've always known.
So they take you away and sequester you in a tent. Veins tied to a jumble of beeping monitors. Faces gape at you, bloated and stretched by the plastic, freakish phantasms that chase you down the corridors of your worst nightmares. And you remember the lab. The sounds of cutting and sawing into bone. Anguished screams in the distance that you suddenly realize are coming from you. The jab of a needle and a strong hand pulling you along.
When you open your eyes, Syd's there at your side. Doe's eyes flickering with tears as she murmurs something about an antidote. Shrugging off the danger that surrounds her life. And then you take her hand, thinking it might be the last time you ever see her. Wishing you could tell her…then it all goes black.
****Your eyes fly open, wide with panic. Knowing she's in trouble. Accepting that your life isn't worth the risks she takes every day. And when you turn your head, you see Alice. Huddled in the bedside chair, hands curved protectively around her purse, dark eyes staring out the window. Blonde hair framing her delicate face like a nimbus.
Angel of light. The one normal thing in your otherwise chaotic life. Loved by your mother and most of her sisters. Despised by Aunt Trish, who calls her a tragic mistake. And when she notices that you've rejoined the land of the living, she smiles tightly, her cheeks wet with tears. Maintaining her careful distance.
"Thank God," she says, praying to a faceless idol in a church she never visits. And you smile back, thoughts roiling inside your tired brain, haunted by the warnings of your psychic aunt.
"She's a good person."
Trish snorts, reaching for her lighter and stopping when she spots the no smoking sign. "Defense de fumer," she utters in disgust. Followed by, "What is the world coming to?"
"We're trying to work things out." You sound like you're trying to convince yourself.
"So you say." She shakes out her red mane of hair and crosses her slim legs. "And the other woman?"
You try looking away but you know Trish has you in her sights. With a sigh, you scrub your bandaged fingers through your hair and look at the ceiling tiles. Then your gaze flicks to the far wall, avoiding the leafy green gaze of the person that knows you better than anyone else. Avoiding the truth that glares at you from every direction. "She's…we work together. There are rules."
Another snort and a tap of her elegant fingers. "Bend them."
"I can't…not that simple." With a shudder, you feel the virus taking hold and you close your eyes. Waiting for the tap of heels that announces her departure.
Sighing again when you see Alice, heart in her eyes, hands clenched whitely together as she leans forward and says all the right things.
Someone who will never let you down. A person that will be there, no matter what. Never questioning those midnight conversations or sudden trips to Sri Lanka. Your faithful companion. Warming your bed, if not your heart.
"She sounds like a dog."
Trish, calling you on the phone that the nurse brings to you. Startling you out of your drugged reverie. "What do you want?"
"The other one. Has she returned?" The click of her Bic in the background as she lights up.
"Not yet." The hours drag by and you fear the worst.
"It is not your time." Swift and resolute. "She will come through."
The hum of an open line as the receiver drops from your nerveless fingers. Vision blurring as the drugs take hold and shove you back into blessed unconsciousness.
*****Voices droning in the background. The whiff of unfamiliar cologne tickling your nostrils. Thick tongue tasting the metallic backwash of medicine and plaque. Eyes fluttering open as if for the first time.
Dark eyes staring down at you like hard obsidian marbles. Revealing more by what he doesn't say than the facts he cares to share with you.
"She had Sloane killed."
Not the slightest bit of accusation, but then there doesn't have to be. He knows how you work. And you both realize that it was inevitable. That this day would come. If not for you, then for some other cause.
The end of her innocence. Because of you.
*****You can barely look her in the eye, this woman that sees right through you. And yet, you owe your life to her. One more reason to hate her presence, hovering there in the window frame, tiny smirk hovering on her lips as she watches you. Waiting for your end of the bargain.
Truth is what she wants. Doublespeak is what she gets. The standard party line, capped by King Protocol. Lies, damned lies. And what she tells you is guaranteed to pierce your armor and burrow its way to your heart.
You walk through those doors, determined to thank Syd and move on with your life. But her smile stuns you into submission, and you smile back, knowing that she'll save you again before all is said and done.
She makes the first move and you try not to think how good she feels against you, silky hair tumbling over your fingers, shaking with emotion as she embraces you. Your lips form the right words, but you know you have to let her go, that opening the door to such dangerous feelings can only end badly.
And then there's Alice, clouding the air between you. So you try to explain, but find yourself choking on the words, knowing how hurt she is by the way she avoids your gaze. So you let her go, sad and proud as she squares her shoulders and tries to be brave. But you know that her lips are quivering and unshed tears are shimmering behind her lowered lashes. Because of you.
Your angel of darkness, forever protecting you from the foul elements that pollute your life. Thrusting her hands through the protective barrier. Killing to save your sorry hide. Having the courage to cross the invisible line that separated you. Saving you from yourself.
The line solidifies in your mind, and you remember Derevko's words.
"And between a man and a woman?"
A gauntlet thrown in your path, daring you to act on your feelings, forgetting about your damned protocol.
Your fingers start twitching and your left foot starts to move, but Kendall cuts you off at the pass. Spouting the usual stuff about breaking protocol, his face composed into something approaching pleasant. And you start to think about the way he's thrown you together with Syd, fully aware of your history and damn the torpedoes.
The line fades away and you excuse yourself, starting after her with more than the usual spring in your step. A man renewed by passion and the zest to live his life to the fullest. Your pace picks up and you see her at the far end of the hall. And just when you think you have a chance, she drops out of sight.
And you turn away, sad smile forming on your lips. Back to business as usual, feelings drawn and quartered for a day that may never come again.
Fin
