Title: Onyx
Author: Angelus
E-mail: (Please put "Onyx" on the subject line.)
Subject: Alias
Category: G
Rating: G
Summary: You never meant to end up like this.
Spoilers: General second season spoilers.
Archive: Anywhere, just ask me first.
Disclaimer: Lauren, Vaughn, Lauren, and any other characters mentioned here are the property of ABC, J.J. Abrams, etc. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's notes: I haven't been able to really get into Alias lately, but I have to admit that when I watch it, I watch it purely for Sark. The man is liquid sex, I swear to God. And I will say right now that I totally called him and Lauren two episodes before it happened.
Dedication: Oh, at this point I don't even care. How about Reggie the Redbird?
Smooth as glass, hard as stone.
That's how you heard Irina Derevko described once. But the scary thing is that nowadays, it only describes you.
How else would you describe a woman who considered, for even a moment, killing her own father? The very man that brought her into the world and did everything he could to protect her from its cruelties? It's sickening. And not only that, but the fact that when you couldn't go through with it, it was your mother who did the deed for you. The world was created, if you believe that, to be a wonderful, beautiful place. But it's not. Not completely, anyway. There are parts of the world that are dirty and dark and twisted and you invited those right into your life with open arms.
The embodiment of all that is bad and wrong in this world would probably be, without much argument, Julian Sark. Julian Sark with the brilliant blue eyes and the pouty mouth and the cocky grin and the aura that just oozes sex appeal. The man could steal a girl's virginity just by looking at her. And he would, too. With pleasure.
He gets pleasure out of everything he does. If it's not getting him excited, he's not doing it. In a way, that's an enviable quiality. He lives life with such a passion, and is able to make himself happy at every turn. But on the other hand, you think about what it is he does: killing, maiming, blackmailing, ruining lives. That's what gets him excited, gets him off. That's what his life is devoted to. You try to remind yourself of that fact constantly, but sometimes, it just fades away into the background. Like anytime he touches you.
Being with him is playing with fire, on so many different levels. But you don't care. When it's just you and him in a bed, or a car, or an airplane bathroom, it's your own little pieve of heaven. And you learned not too long ago that being in this business means that heaven doesn't come that easily to people like you. So you take what you can get. You thought that, getting assigned to Michael Vaughn, you had lucked out. You could look past alot of the little things - like his obsession with Sydney, or the fact that you've been lying to him since day one - and find that you actually had some semblance of a normal relationship. And really, you couldn't ask for a better guy than Michael. When you get bitchy and jealous about his spending time with Sydney, it's not even acting anymore.
Once upon a time, when you still thought Daddy was a banker and Mommy was a regular housewife like all of your friends Mommies, and you still had a pink bedroom with a Barbie house in the corner that you played with every day, you dressed Barbie in a pretty, poofy white dress and marched her down the hallway arm-in-arm with Ken in his tux, softly humming the Wedding March to yourself. That was your favorite. Lisa, who lived across the street, used to throw temper tantrums because you never wanted to take Barbie and Ken shopping, or to the beach, or out to dinner like all the other girls in the neighborhood - you just wanted to have them get married, over and over and over. Your favorite movie was Cinderella, and you'd dance around the kitchen in Mommy's pearls and heels, singing "A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes" at the top of your lungs. And at night, Daddy would tuck you into bed, kissing you on the forehead with promises that when you got much older, you'd find your own Prince Charming and get married and he and Mommy would sit in the front row and cry.
You had a few boyfriends before Michael. Jay, who you met sophomore year in college, you thought was 'the one'. But the Mom laughed and informed you that you didn't have time for silly flings - the mission was what mattered. So you ended it. Then you were assigned to Michael. You got the big wedding, the walk down the aisle, the cake, the tears. But Mom and Dad weren't there. As far as everyone else knew, they were away on business. But you know the real reason. They told you, right to your face - the wedding was a farce anyway, why was it so important for them to come?
Marriage doesn't even cross your mind with Julian. You've pretty much given up on that dream. You've given up on alot. You look at yourself in the mirror now, your eyes weighed down with eyeliner, dark circles underneath them. You barely recognize yourself. And you realize that this is what Michael sees. What Julian sees. And Michael is the one spending all his time with some other woman, while Julian paws at you every chance he gets.
You keep looking at yourself as you ponder what exactly that means.
Author: Angelus
E-mail: (Please put "Onyx" on the subject line.)
Subject: Alias
Category: G
Rating: G
Summary: You never meant to end up like this.
Spoilers: General second season spoilers.
Archive: Anywhere, just ask me first.
Disclaimer: Lauren, Vaughn, Lauren, and any other characters mentioned here are the property of ABC, J.J. Abrams, etc. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's notes: I haven't been able to really get into Alias lately, but I have to admit that when I watch it, I watch it purely for Sark. The man is liquid sex, I swear to God. And I will say right now that I totally called him and Lauren two episodes before it happened.
Dedication: Oh, at this point I don't even care. How about Reggie the Redbird?
Smooth as glass, hard as stone.
That's how you heard Irina Derevko described once. But the scary thing is that nowadays, it only describes you.
How else would you describe a woman who considered, for even a moment, killing her own father? The very man that brought her into the world and did everything he could to protect her from its cruelties? It's sickening. And not only that, but the fact that when you couldn't go through with it, it was your mother who did the deed for you. The world was created, if you believe that, to be a wonderful, beautiful place. But it's not. Not completely, anyway. There are parts of the world that are dirty and dark and twisted and you invited those right into your life with open arms.
The embodiment of all that is bad and wrong in this world would probably be, without much argument, Julian Sark. Julian Sark with the brilliant blue eyes and the pouty mouth and the cocky grin and the aura that just oozes sex appeal. The man could steal a girl's virginity just by looking at her. And he would, too. With pleasure.
He gets pleasure out of everything he does. If it's not getting him excited, he's not doing it. In a way, that's an enviable quiality. He lives life with such a passion, and is able to make himself happy at every turn. But on the other hand, you think about what it is he does: killing, maiming, blackmailing, ruining lives. That's what gets him excited, gets him off. That's what his life is devoted to. You try to remind yourself of that fact constantly, but sometimes, it just fades away into the background. Like anytime he touches you.
Being with him is playing with fire, on so many different levels. But you don't care. When it's just you and him in a bed, or a car, or an airplane bathroom, it's your own little pieve of heaven. And you learned not too long ago that being in this business means that heaven doesn't come that easily to people like you. So you take what you can get. You thought that, getting assigned to Michael Vaughn, you had lucked out. You could look past alot of the little things - like his obsession with Sydney, or the fact that you've been lying to him since day one - and find that you actually had some semblance of a normal relationship. And really, you couldn't ask for a better guy than Michael. When you get bitchy and jealous about his spending time with Sydney, it's not even acting anymore.
Once upon a time, when you still thought Daddy was a banker and Mommy was a regular housewife like all of your friends Mommies, and you still had a pink bedroom with a Barbie house in the corner that you played with every day, you dressed Barbie in a pretty, poofy white dress and marched her down the hallway arm-in-arm with Ken in his tux, softly humming the Wedding March to yourself. That was your favorite. Lisa, who lived across the street, used to throw temper tantrums because you never wanted to take Barbie and Ken shopping, or to the beach, or out to dinner like all the other girls in the neighborhood - you just wanted to have them get married, over and over and over. Your favorite movie was Cinderella, and you'd dance around the kitchen in Mommy's pearls and heels, singing "A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes" at the top of your lungs. And at night, Daddy would tuck you into bed, kissing you on the forehead with promises that when you got much older, you'd find your own Prince Charming and get married and he and Mommy would sit in the front row and cry.
You had a few boyfriends before Michael. Jay, who you met sophomore year in college, you thought was 'the one'. But the Mom laughed and informed you that you didn't have time for silly flings - the mission was what mattered. So you ended it. Then you were assigned to Michael. You got the big wedding, the walk down the aisle, the cake, the tears. But Mom and Dad weren't there. As far as everyone else knew, they were away on business. But you know the real reason. They told you, right to your face - the wedding was a farce anyway, why was it so important for them to come?
Marriage doesn't even cross your mind with Julian. You've pretty much given up on that dream. You've given up on alot. You look at yourself in the mirror now, your eyes weighed down with eyeliner, dark circles underneath them. You barely recognize yourself. And you realize that this is what Michael sees. What Julian sees. And Michael is the one spending all his time with some other woman, while Julian paws at you every chance he gets.
You keep looking at yourself as you ponder what exactly that means.