Title: Yellow
Author: Jade
Summary: What went on in Vaughn's life during Sydney's disappearance.
Spoilers: Just general knowledge of Season 3
Rating: PG-13ish
Distribution: Anywhere! (Let me know where, so I can visit, though)
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No matter how much I delude myself. Author's Notes: The idea from this story didn't come solely from my mind. It's a product of speculation from people who are much smarter than me over at TWoP's Vaughn Board. Plus, I know others are writing similar fics, but I honestly haven't been keeping up with the Alias fics out there. So any similarities are unintentional. Really
***
Truth is in a tall beer. Staring into the amber liquid, I saw myself and the truth I reflected.
The truth was, I looked horrible. The truth was, I missed Sydney. The truth was, I am going to die in this pub, a lonely, disheveled man without a name.
My body ached with the thought of Syd and burned with the desire to die.
I was hiding in London, of all places, in a pub where I drank myself into oblivion every night for the past six months. I had been numb for six months. My only human contact had been the strange woman who had sat next to me one night a few months ago. We went to my "place", a one-room rat pit. She left early in the evening, disturbed that when I climaxed, tears streamed down my face and I yelled Sydney's name.
I decided human contact was not for me.
I fit in in London, reverting back to French and dressing like a European. I had almost forgotten my English, it had been so long. I pretended I didn't know the language.
I swirled my alcohol around and thought of how well I had blended in. It wasn't hard for a spy to pretend to be something he's not. I barely gave the man next to me a second thought as he suddenly sat down. I was shocked to hear his familiar American accent.
"Hey, man, maybe that should be your last one," he said, turning towards me.
I glanced up and froze. "What're you doing here?" I fired out angrily.
Weiss flinched. "Whoa, buddy, English. Don't know French. That well."
"How did you find me?" I growled. And here I had just been, admiring my chameleon-like ability.
"Dude, *English*!"
Suddenly, an internal switch flicked and all the events of the last six months stored themselves in the French section of my mind. It was easier to compartmentalize with languages.
"How the hell did you find me, Weiss?" I asked, my American accent coming out strong. "I thought I disappeared."
"Yeah, you did a damn fine job of it, too! The whole goddamn CIA is looking for you."
I shot him a look. He shrugged.
"Well, me and Jack, anyway. Kendall's curious, but I think he understands. Everyone else just thinks you're batshit insane."
I smiled a little to myself, the act at first seeming unnatural. "I *am* batshit insane."
Eric gave a small laugh. "Well, look, mental state aside, this is no pleasure trip I'm on. I'm here to deliver a message."
I sighed and took a drink. "Of course. This cloak and dagger shit will never end. Disappear for months and friends still only show up to give half-shit answers."
"Mike, dude," Eric said forcefully, "I've been worrying about you. I know I just said it's not a personal visit, but I'd have come if there wasn't a message anyway. I've been looking for you."
I smiled humorlessly and drove my finger into a dent on the bar. "You found me."
"It's Jack. He wants to see you."
My heart skipped a beat. Shit. I considered Jack a friend, but he was still one scary sonofabitch.
"Where?" I asked. Eric threw a folded piece of paper at me.
"Some warehouse in Paris. That's the address."
I opened the paper and memorized the numbers, ripping it up when I was done.
"As soon as you can," Eric said. "For now, I gotta go. Don't want any tails to know I was here," he smirked. With that, he disappeared and I sat, alone, finishing my beer.
Author: Jade
Summary: What went on in Vaughn's life during Sydney's disappearance.
Spoilers: Just general knowledge of Season 3
Rating: PG-13ish
Distribution: Anywhere! (Let me know where, so I can visit, though)
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No matter how much I delude myself. Author's Notes: The idea from this story didn't come solely from my mind. It's a product of speculation from people who are much smarter than me over at TWoP's Vaughn Board. Plus, I know others are writing similar fics, but I honestly haven't been keeping up with the Alias fics out there. So any similarities are unintentional. Really
***
Truth is in a tall beer. Staring into the amber liquid, I saw myself and the truth I reflected.
The truth was, I looked horrible. The truth was, I missed Sydney. The truth was, I am going to die in this pub, a lonely, disheveled man without a name.
My body ached with the thought of Syd and burned with the desire to die.
I was hiding in London, of all places, in a pub where I drank myself into oblivion every night for the past six months. I had been numb for six months. My only human contact had been the strange woman who had sat next to me one night a few months ago. We went to my "place", a one-room rat pit. She left early in the evening, disturbed that when I climaxed, tears streamed down my face and I yelled Sydney's name.
I decided human contact was not for me.
I fit in in London, reverting back to French and dressing like a European. I had almost forgotten my English, it had been so long. I pretended I didn't know the language.
I swirled my alcohol around and thought of how well I had blended in. It wasn't hard for a spy to pretend to be something he's not. I barely gave the man next to me a second thought as he suddenly sat down. I was shocked to hear his familiar American accent.
"Hey, man, maybe that should be your last one," he said, turning towards me.
I glanced up and froze. "What're you doing here?" I fired out angrily.
Weiss flinched. "Whoa, buddy, English. Don't know French. That well."
"How did you find me?" I growled. And here I had just been, admiring my chameleon-like ability.
"Dude, *English*!"
Suddenly, an internal switch flicked and all the events of the last six months stored themselves in the French section of my mind. It was easier to compartmentalize with languages.
"How the hell did you find me, Weiss?" I asked, my American accent coming out strong. "I thought I disappeared."
"Yeah, you did a damn fine job of it, too! The whole goddamn CIA is looking for you."
I shot him a look. He shrugged.
"Well, me and Jack, anyway. Kendall's curious, but I think he understands. Everyone else just thinks you're batshit insane."
I smiled a little to myself, the act at first seeming unnatural. "I *am* batshit insane."
Eric gave a small laugh. "Well, look, mental state aside, this is no pleasure trip I'm on. I'm here to deliver a message."
I sighed and took a drink. "Of course. This cloak and dagger shit will never end. Disappear for months and friends still only show up to give half-shit answers."
"Mike, dude," Eric said forcefully, "I've been worrying about you. I know I just said it's not a personal visit, but I'd have come if there wasn't a message anyway. I've been looking for you."
I smiled humorlessly and drove my finger into a dent on the bar. "You found me."
"It's Jack. He wants to see you."
My heart skipped a beat. Shit. I considered Jack a friend, but he was still one scary sonofabitch.
"Where?" I asked. Eric threw a folded piece of paper at me.
"Some warehouse in Paris. That's the address."
I opened the paper and memorized the numbers, ripping it up when I was done.
"As soon as you can," Eric said. "For now, I gotta go. Don't want any tails to know I was here," he smirked. With that, he disappeared and I sat, alone, finishing my beer.