Title: Fault and Blame
Author: toria55
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence.
Spoilers: This takes place after The Telling.
Disclaimer: Alias and all it's characters are owned by JJ Abrams and ABC. This story is not intended to infringe on the copyrights of the original creators. It is written for entertainment purposes only and is not intended for profit in any way.
"Hi, Jack. It's been awhile. How you doing?" Mike asked as he wiped off the countertop in front of him.
Jack didn't answer. Mike didn't mind, he was use to his moods. "The usual?" he asked. He knew what he wanted. The only thing that ever changed was the size of the glass.
"A tall one, dry."
"Coming up. You want anything to eat?"
The silence was his answer. Thirty seconds later Mike placed the scotch in front of him. He walked away wondering what was wrong. He'd seen his quiet moods in the past, but never like this.
Twenty minutes later Mike walked over to check on him. The first thing he noticed was that the glass was still full. "You trying to go on the wagon?" he asked.
"None of your fucking business," Jack thought to himself.
"You didn't answer the man's question," a voice said from behind him. He wasn't surprised by her presence. He knew she would make an appearance sooner or later.
Mike recognized woman trouble when he saw it. "What can I get you?" he asked the exotically beautiful woman who was taking a seat next to Jack.
"I'll have a whiskey. Any kind," she said with a seductive smile.
Jack never took his eyes off his glass.
"You weren't at the memorial service today," she said as she looked at the untouched drink in his hands.
"I didn't know anyone that was being buried today."
"Do you mean that figuratively or literally?"
He looked at her and told her, "Literally."
"So you don't believe she's dead?"
"She's not dead," he said as he turned back to his untouched drink.
"The CIA ran tests. Intellectually you know that DNA does not lie."
"Intellectually I know that the CIA has been known to fuck up."
Mike delivered the whiskey. He was still concerned about his customer. "Can I get you some coffee, Jack? I just made a fresh pot."
"No."
Mike made eye contact with Jack's companion. She gave him a look that said she would take care of him.
"Why aren't you drinking?" she asked.
"Because it would dull the pain."
"Isn't that what you want"
"No. I have no right to dull my pain when she's suffering."
"Are you in pain Jack?"
"Do you care?"
"That you're in pain? Yes, I care," she said as she reached up and gently ran her fingers along the hairline behind his ear. While doing this she leaned over and whispered into his ear, "I hope it's killing you inside. I hope it haunts you every minute of your day. I hope it's tearing your guts up."
"It is," he assured her.
She removed her hand from behind his ear. She took a drink of her whiskey and hissed at him, "Good. You deserve it. Look what you did to my baby. I trusted you to keep her safe. To love her. But you didn't, did you? Not from he first day I left her with you."
As he raised his glass to finally take a drink she taunted him, "Go head, drink it, you coward." Then she delivered a message to him, "I'm going to find her on my own and when I do you're never going to see her again."
He placed the glass back on the counter. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. He placed it on the countertop. Without ever looking at her, he turned and left the bar.
She stayed just a few seconds longer, to finish her drink. She had no problem with finding a way to dull the pain.
His strides were so long that he was almost a block away by the time she caught up to him. He was passing an alley at the time.
"Bastard, don't walk away from me. Tell me what you know about what happened to her," she yelled as she raised her fist and pounded him on the back.
When she struck him he turned around and grab her by the wrists. He pulled her into the alley. He secured her to the side of the building by pinning one arm behind her back and placing his other hand securely around her throat.
"I told you I would kill you if she ever fell victim to your endgame. I'm going to keep that promise right now," he said as he used his thumb to apply pressure to her juggler vein. He knew just how much pressure he needed in order to make the process slow and painful.
She wrapped her free hand around his arm and tried desperately to break his death grip. The more she struggled, the tighter he held her. The tighter he held her, the less she struggled. It wasn't long before he noticed her eyes start to roll back in her head. That's what got to him. Those eyes. Those beautiful laughing eyes. Sydney's eyes.
When he let her go she slowly slid down the side of the building. He sat on the bottom step of a fire escape and watched as she struggled to inflate her air passages.
In between coughs she asked him, "Why did you stop? Why didn't you finish what you started?"
"Because you're right, it is my fault. I was the one who was suppose to keep her safe. I'm the one who failed her again."
Once she was able to stand she walked over to where he was sitting. She sat next to him and told him, "It's just as much my fault as it is yours," Laying her hand on his arm, she said, "But we can fix it, Jack. We can find her if we work together."
"I don't know where to start." he said, sounding completely defeated.
"Nepal," she told him. "We'll start in Nepal."
He looked over at her and for the first time in days he had hope that he would see his daughter again. Then he made an oath with her, "And when we find our baby, we'll bring her kidnappers to justice!"
She knew by the tone of his voice, what he meant by justice. "Yes, to Bristow justice!" she said as she offered him her hand. "Is it a deal?"
He took her hand and assured her, "I'd make a deal with the devil himself if it meant getting her back."
She grinned at him and said, "Some people would say you just did."
1/1
Author: toria55
Rating: PG-13 for language and violence.
Spoilers: This takes place after The Telling.
Disclaimer: Alias and all it's characters are owned by JJ Abrams and ABC. This story is not intended to infringe on the copyrights of the original creators. It is written for entertainment purposes only and is not intended for profit in any way.
"Hi, Jack. It's been awhile. How you doing?" Mike asked as he wiped off the countertop in front of him.
Jack didn't answer. Mike didn't mind, he was use to his moods. "The usual?" he asked. He knew what he wanted. The only thing that ever changed was the size of the glass.
"A tall one, dry."
"Coming up. You want anything to eat?"
The silence was his answer. Thirty seconds later Mike placed the scotch in front of him. He walked away wondering what was wrong. He'd seen his quiet moods in the past, but never like this.
Twenty minutes later Mike walked over to check on him. The first thing he noticed was that the glass was still full. "You trying to go on the wagon?" he asked.
"None of your fucking business," Jack thought to himself.
"You didn't answer the man's question," a voice said from behind him. He wasn't surprised by her presence. He knew she would make an appearance sooner or later.
Mike recognized woman trouble when he saw it. "What can I get you?" he asked the exotically beautiful woman who was taking a seat next to Jack.
"I'll have a whiskey. Any kind," she said with a seductive smile.
Jack never took his eyes off his glass.
"You weren't at the memorial service today," she said as she looked at the untouched drink in his hands.
"I didn't know anyone that was being buried today."
"Do you mean that figuratively or literally?"
He looked at her and told her, "Literally."
"So you don't believe she's dead?"
"She's not dead," he said as he turned back to his untouched drink.
"The CIA ran tests. Intellectually you know that DNA does not lie."
"Intellectually I know that the CIA has been known to fuck up."
Mike delivered the whiskey. He was still concerned about his customer. "Can I get you some coffee, Jack? I just made a fresh pot."
"No."
Mike made eye contact with Jack's companion. She gave him a look that said she would take care of him.
"Why aren't you drinking?" she asked.
"Because it would dull the pain."
"Isn't that what you want"
"No. I have no right to dull my pain when she's suffering."
"Are you in pain Jack?"
"Do you care?"
"That you're in pain? Yes, I care," she said as she reached up and gently ran her fingers along the hairline behind his ear. While doing this she leaned over and whispered into his ear, "I hope it's killing you inside. I hope it haunts you every minute of your day. I hope it's tearing your guts up."
"It is," he assured her.
She removed her hand from behind his ear. She took a drink of her whiskey and hissed at him, "Good. You deserve it. Look what you did to my baby. I trusted you to keep her safe. To love her. But you didn't, did you? Not from he first day I left her with you."
As he raised his glass to finally take a drink she taunted him, "Go head, drink it, you coward." Then she delivered a message to him, "I'm going to find her on my own and when I do you're never going to see her again."
He placed the glass back on the counter. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. He placed it on the countertop. Without ever looking at her, he turned and left the bar.
She stayed just a few seconds longer, to finish her drink. She had no problem with finding a way to dull the pain.
His strides were so long that he was almost a block away by the time she caught up to him. He was passing an alley at the time.
"Bastard, don't walk away from me. Tell me what you know about what happened to her," she yelled as she raised her fist and pounded him on the back.
When she struck him he turned around and grab her by the wrists. He pulled her into the alley. He secured her to the side of the building by pinning one arm behind her back and placing his other hand securely around her throat.
"I told you I would kill you if she ever fell victim to your endgame. I'm going to keep that promise right now," he said as he used his thumb to apply pressure to her juggler vein. He knew just how much pressure he needed in order to make the process slow and painful.
She wrapped her free hand around his arm and tried desperately to break his death grip. The more she struggled, the tighter he held her. The tighter he held her, the less she struggled. It wasn't long before he noticed her eyes start to roll back in her head. That's what got to him. Those eyes. Those beautiful laughing eyes. Sydney's eyes.
When he let her go she slowly slid down the side of the building. He sat on the bottom step of a fire escape and watched as she struggled to inflate her air passages.
In between coughs she asked him, "Why did you stop? Why didn't you finish what you started?"
"Because you're right, it is my fault. I was the one who was suppose to keep her safe. I'm the one who failed her again."
Once she was able to stand she walked over to where he was sitting. She sat next to him and told him, "It's just as much my fault as it is yours," Laying her hand on his arm, she said, "But we can fix it, Jack. We can find her if we work together."
"I don't know where to start." he said, sounding completely defeated.
"Nepal," she told him. "We'll start in Nepal."
He looked over at her and for the first time in days he had hope that he would see his daughter again. Then he made an oath with her, "And when we find our baby, we'll bring her kidnappers to justice!"
She knew by the tone of his voice, what he meant by justice. "Yes, to Bristow justice!" she said as she offered him her hand. "Is it a deal?"
He took her hand and assured her, "I'd make a deal with the devil himself if it meant getting her back."
She grinned at him and said, "Some people would say you just did."
1/1