******** Memento Mori: A Serial Alias Fanfiction ********
********CHAPTER ONE ********
Fists jammed into his pockets, Vaughn waits around a corner, shadows filling his vision and nervousness wrenching his gut. He's breaking protocol being here, putting himself in an incredibly vunerable position, but hell, he's worried. Worrying was something he'd started to get used to in the past two and a half months, and he knew it wasn't good for his health or for his career.
He leans against cool masonry and half-closes his eyes a moment, wondering what to do next. Surveillance caught Sydney walking into Credit Dauphine over three hours ago, and when she hadn't called from Europe at check in the leaden feeling in his stomach that something was wrong, really truly wrong, began to make itself known, and he was afraid that somehow she had gotten herself in a shit load of trouble again.
Vaughn runs a hand through his hair and blinks. He's been waiting for a noise, an indication that she would be coming soon, and having some wild story to tell and he could admonish himself for second guessing her. Just because she's a woman and looks soft he knows she isn't-- Sydney can hold her own, and he is fully aware of it. Fingers clench and he remembers her crying, looking up with those sad, lost eyes. Eyes he sometimes got lost in, if even only a moment, and it only led to a further complicated feeling closely related to failure.
The night, filled with sounds of the city and distant commotion of people, is pierced by the ringing of his cell phone. He answers mid first ring, finding his fingers moist with perspiration- Jesus, nerves- with a curt Vaughn."
" Got her exiting."
" Good." He presses end without asking stupid questions about her apparent safety. Did SD-6 find out that she was a double agent? Could a surveillance team even tell by watching her come out the front doors? Would it be written in the way she walked; would there be a finger missing or some gruesome, telltale sign that SHE HAD BEEN CAUGHT and made some sick example of?
Breathing heavily, he waits. Sounds nonexistent until the ebbing sound of what might be heels on pavement-- Sydney's heels, God, please let her be okay. He doesn't care about the clock and the pictures and what she found in Europe. He cares to see her face and know there is nothing hiding there, there is no fear beneath the surface, he wants to ask for himself " are you okay" before knowing why she never called to check in with him.
He notices movement out the corner of his eye and yes, now, he's sure it's her. And an irrational nervousness expounds and runs rampant through his veins, like she's some high school goddess and he's a second rate sophomore, reaching for the unattainable-- and wait, his anxiety, he knows, is completely irrelevant, unprofessional, and it has to stop right now.Breathe in and out Vaughn, his inner voice says. In and out and in a moment she will round the corner and--
She does. He steps from the darkness and grabs her arm. She turns, ready for attack, he's sure, and as soon as his face comes into view he smiles -- a smile he hopes conveys that professional concern he is going for here. He has only surprise when her face only amplifies shock and a fist comes towards his face.
" Hey, " She says, " let go of me."
Avoiding the fist and removing his hand proves to be difficult, and he nearly loses his balance in the process. He scans her face, looking for a reason for her overt surprise and near violent attempt on his face.
" Sydney?" He says, and can hear the concern in his voice; it's a nagging, definitely unprofessional, desperate kind of tone.
" How do you know my name? Who are you? What do you want?" Eyes reduce to slivers: she is suspicious. Vaughn swallows, unprepared for this, not sure what it means. Deduction tells him she's trying to protect them, trying to feign a lack of recognition, in case they are being watched by someone at SD-6.
" I'm sorry I had to grab you like that, Sydney, but when you didn't call I got nervous." He drops his voice to a whisper, looking around himself in a covert fashion.
Sydney is shaking her head, brown hair falling over shoulders, breathing through her nose and her nostrils are beginning to flare. With some surprise he realizes that she is scared; that she is on the offensive, and if he didn't watch it she would be coming at him with another punch worthy of a prize winning fighter.
" Explain yourself to me, and tell me in a sentence why I might know you. I don't recognize you, I certainly don't remember having to call you or ever speaking with you before. I'm serious. I want to know who you are and why you are looking at me like you know me." She's keeping her voice banker- steady, it's professional, not clouded by emotion: tough as nails Sydney at her best.
And with a moment of deduction, Vaughns mind moving in crazy, frightened circles he knows she isn't in the midst of an act or trying to pretend she didn't know him because he was breaking protocol. He breathes in, and out, slow, steadying breaths as he realizes with increasing certainty that Sydney Bristow has no idea who he is.
And the thought of that is terrifying.
******** end of chapter one ********
********CHAPTER ONE ********
Fists jammed into his pockets, Vaughn waits around a corner, shadows filling his vision and nervousness wrenching his gut. He's breaking protocol being here, putting himself in an incredibly vunerable position, but hell, he's worried. Worrying was something he'd started to get used to in the past two and a half months, and he knew it wasn't good for his health or for his career.
He leans against cool masonry and half-closes his eyes a moment, wondering what to do next. Surveillance caught Sydney walking into Credit Dauphine over three hours ago, and when she hadn't called from Europe at check in the leaden feeling in his stomach that something was wrong, really truly wrong, began to make itself known, and he was afraid that somehow she had gotten herself in a shit load of trouble again.
Vaughn runs a hand through his hair and blinks. He's been waiting for a noise, an indication that she would be coming soon, and having some wild story to tell and he could admonish himself for second guessing her. Just because she's a woman and looks soft he knows she isn't-- Sydney can hold her own, and he is fully aware of it. Fingers clench and he remembers her crying, looking up with those sad, lost eyes. Eyes he sometimes got lost in, if even only a moment, and it only led to a further complicated feeling closely related to failure.
The night, filled with sounds of the city and distant commotion of people, is pierced by the ringing of his cell phone. He answers mid first ring, finding his fingers moist with perspiration- Jesus, nerves- with a curt Vaughn."
" Got her exiting."
" Good." He presses end without asking stupid questions about her apparent safety. Did SD-6 find out that she was a double agent? Could a surveillance team even tell by watching her come out the front doors? Would it be written in the way she walked; would there be a finger missing or some gruesome, telltale sign that SHE HAD BEEN CAUGHT and made some sick example of?
Breathing heavily, he waits. Sounds nonexistent until the ebbing sound of what might be heels on pavement-- Sydney's heels, God, please let her be okay. He doesn't care about the clock and the pictures and what she found in Europe. He cares to see her face and know there is nothing hiding there, there is no fear beneath the surface, he wants to ask for himself " are you okay" before knowing why she never called to check in with him.
He notices movement out the corner of his eye and yes, now, he's sure it's her. And an irrational nervousness expounds and runs rampant through his veins, like she's some high school goddess and he's a second rate sophomore, reaching for the unattainable-- and wait, his anxiety, he knows, is completely irrelevant, unprofessional, and it has to stop right now.Breathe in and out Vaughn, his inner voice says. In and out and in a moment she will round the corner and--
She does. He steps from the darkness and grabs her arm. She turns, ready for attack, he's sure, and as soon as his face comes into view he smiles -- a smile he hopes conveys that professional concern he is going for here. He has only surprise when her face only amplifies shock and a fist comes towards his face.
" Hey, " She says, " let go of me."
Avoiding the fist and removing his hand proves to be difficult, and he nearly loses his balance in the process. He scans her face, looking for a reason for her overt surprise and near violent attempt on his face.
" Sydney?" He says, and can hear the concern in his voice; it's a nagging, definitely unprofessional, desperate kind of tone.
" How do you know my name? Who are you? What do you want?" Eyes reduce to slivers: she is suspicious. Vaughn swallows, unprepared for this, not sure what it means. Deduction tells him she's trying to protect them, trying to feign a lack of recognition, in case they are being watched by someone at SD-6.
" I'm sorry I had to grab you like that, Sydney, but when you didn't call I got nervous." He drops his voice to a whisper, looking around himself in a covert fashion.
Sydney is shaking her head, brown hair falling over shoulders, breathing through her nose and her nostrils are beginning to flare. With some surprise he realizes that she is scared; that she is on the offensive, and if he didn't watch it she would be coming at him with another punch worthy of a prize winning fighter.
" Explain yourself to me, and tell me in a sentence why I might know you. I don't recognize you, I certainly don't remember having to call you or ever speaking with you before. I'm serious. I want to know who you are and why you are looking at me like you know me." She's keeping her voice banker- steady, it's professional, not clouded by emotion: tough as nails Sydney at her best.
And with a moment of deduction, Vaughns mind moving in crazy, frightened circles he knows she isn't in the midst of an act or trying to pretend she didn't know him because he was breaking protocol. He breathes in, and out, slow, steadying breaths as he realizes with increasing certainty that Sydney Bristow has no idea who he is.
And the thought of that is terrifying.
******** end of chapter one ********