Title: "Recoil"
Author: Waterdancer aka AquarianLady
Email: jch114@hotmail.com
Website: none at this time.
Feedback: YES YES YES
Distribution: CD ALL DAY. Anyone else please ask.
Disclaimer: Anything Alias related (Vaughn, Devlin, SD-4,SD-6, Weiss, Donovan the dog) are all the property of ABC and Touchstone Pictures. It is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions. Diana Rochelle is mine.
Summary: A woman from Vaughn's past comes back.
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Classification: Action/Adventure, Drama, and a dash of Romance.
A/N: A big thank you to Robin and Thorne. You guys have been a well of encouragement, and you don't know how much I apperciate it. It helped out tremendously. Thank you to Robin for the great beta. This is my VERY first attempt at a Vaughn fic. Hope you guys like it.
"Recoil"
The tropical sun beat down on Diana as she ran through the alleys of Rio.
Pop! Pop!
A part of the brick wall exploded in small pink clouds as she rounded the corner. How many men were there? She looked over her shoulder and saw two men in white chasing her. She wiped the sweat from her brow as she ran down the alley. There was music coming from the street, and she could see that there was some sort of festival going on. There was a large crowd gathering and people were walking from booth to booth looking at the various goods that were being sold.
If I can just make it there, I can get away.
Pop! Pop!
She was starting to sprint towards the crowd when a flash of hot pain shot through her. Reaching down, she touched her leg. She'd been shot. Son of a bitch! Ignoring the pain, she continued running.
She slowed into a jog as she reached the crowd. Looking behind her, she saw that the men seemed to have disappeared.
"Pretty Silk? Pretty silk for a pretty lady?" A merchant pulled her towards his booth.
"Pretty silk?" he said holding up jade scarf. Diana looked around nervously and glanced back at the green scarf. It was long enough to cover her long dark hair. It may be just what I need.
As she was tying the scarf on, she heard a woman scream and some glass shatter. She turned her head slightly, and she could see two men coming closer to the booth where she standing.
She slipped the merchant the equivalent of one hundred American dollars "Do you see those two men right there?" she motioned to her pursuers coming through the crowd. He looked at her and nodded. "Can you stall them, please?" Diana pleaded with him.
The merchant looked back at her with cautious eyes. "Please," she whispered.
"Go," the merchant said quietly. She mouthed, "Thank You," and ran down the street.
"Damn them!" Diana cursed. Calling the CIA through the official channels had been a mistake, but there had been was no one else to contact. "We can't afford the risk it would take to get you out, Agent Rochelle. You knew that when you volunteered for the mission," said the cold, monotone voice on the other end of the phone.
There was only one person I can call. She thought as she ran into another dark alley. I just hope that I'm not making another mistake by calling him.
She ran further down the alley and hid behind some boxes. She pulled out her SAT phone and dialed the one man she could trust to try to get her out—Michael Vaughn.
***
Michael Vaughn sat on his couch watching the NHL Playoffs. His favorite team, the LA Kings, were in the process of winning the series. It was his first day off in weeks, and he planned to enjoy every minute of it. There were no counter-missions, no pining over Sydney, and no SD-6. It was just him and Donovan sitting back and watching the game. This is how it should be more often.
He chuckled to himself as he looked down at his clothes. Jogging pants and LA Kings T-shirt was the attire for the day. He hadn't bothered to put on some real clothes on today or to shave. He had gotten up at noon, fed Donovan, went to get some coffee, came back home and turned on the game. A perfect, quiet day.
For the first time in years he wasn't sure if he wanted the Kings to win, and he knew who to blame. Weiss had made a bet with him. 'If the Kings actually win the series, you have to let me fix you up with one of Angie's girlfriends.' Initially, he had resisted—he didn't want to be fixed up. Seeing his reluctance, Weiss looked at him as if he had lost his mind, "Do yourself a favor, Michael. Go out with someone. Get out the house. Stop pining for someone that you can't have."
As the goalie made a pivotal save, the phone rang. I bet it's Eric.
"Look, if you calling to tell me what time to pick up—"
"Michael?" a familiar voice whispered.
"Who--Who is this?" he asked.
"I need your help," the voice whispered again, this time more urgently.
"I'll ask again, who is this?" he demanded.
"Dammit, Michael, has it been that long?" said the voice with a distinct Southern accent.
There is no way this is her. It's been too long.
"Diana?" he questioned. It had been five years since he'd talked to her, but he recognized the frustration in her voice. He had heard it often when they worked together. There had been some of that frustration—with sadness—in her voice the last time they had talked.
"Yes, it's me, Michael. How are you?" Diana whispered with more confidence than before.
"What's going on? Are you okay?" His heart skipped a beat. What is she doing calling me? She wasn't supposed to make contact with anyone.
Diana laughed nervously on the other end. "What do you think? Hey, how's Donnie?"
He smiled in spite of the surprise call from her. She was the only one who called Donovan, "Donnie". Other people had tried to call him that, but Vaughn had always corrected them.
"He's fine. Are you going to tell me what's going on?" he asked, changing the subject.
"I've screwed up. Fucked everything up," she said with a voice that crackled with bitterness.
"What are you talking about?" he asked frowning.
"The operation into SD-4. I've fucked everything up, Michael."
Operation into SD-4? I wasn't told anything about this. "SD-4? What the hell were you doing in SD-4?" he demanded as he started to pace the floor.
"It was supposed to be a simple operation. A smash and grab, but the team--we were ambushed." He tensed up at her words.
"Ambushed? Diana, what are you talking about?" He asked confused, running his hand through his hair. "The operations were supposed to be classified." I should know; I checked.
"I'm not sure how it happened, but it did. There were eight of us, and I'm the only one who got away. The only one," she whispered.
Michael had never heard her like this. It had been five years, but Diana had never been one to back down from a fight—that wasn't her. He could tell by her tone that she was scared. "What do you need?"
"Extraction. I need to be extracted," she said with finality. There was something in her voice frightened him. It was almost as if she wanted to rest, to stop fighting. His instincts were screaming at the defeat in her voice. This isn't you, Diana.
"Have you tried the official channels?" He continued to pace his living room, trying to control his quickening heart. Diana was calling him, and he knew what that meant. There had been no one else left to call.
"I tried that, but the CIA is disavowing the team's existence. Michael, please. I need you."
How could they not go in and help her? We help assassins, terrorists, and other criminals all the time. He paced back and forth. If I get involved in this, this could cost me everything. He shrugged off the thought. Diana needed him, and that's all that mattered. "Where are you?"
"I'm in Rio right now, and I'm heading for Chile as soon as I can. It's going to be difficult, but I'm going to try to get some help from the locals here. I have a cover in Chile waiting for me; I'll be working as a bodyguard for the Countess Cassia."
He wrote scribbled this information down on a napkin from his coffee cup. He needed to talk with Devlin. "I'll have you out of there within the week, Diana," he vowed, folding the napkin in half, and putting it in his pocket.
He could hear the relief in her voice. "Thank you, Michael. I—"
A loud pop rang out over the line.
He called her name several times but silence was his only answer. Dropping the phone, he grabbed his keys. He'd call Devlin on the way to the office. He already knew whom he wanted to send in to save Diana. There was only one person that he would trust with that job.