Title: We Are Such Stuff...
Author: Mai
Email: Maisfeeka@AOL.com
Feedback: Always nice
Distribution: CD certainly. Others, just let me know, please.
Disclaimer: Alias and its characters do not belong to me. No
copyright infringement is intended here. Ree is mine.
Summary: A Jack Romance: What happens when someone
gets under Jack's skin?
Rating: R to NC-17.
Classification: AU, Romance, Angst, Drama, OC
A/N: Overwhelming thanks to Karen T. for being a fabulous
beta and friend. Also, thanks to the Tuesday night Irish musicians
at The Barley House in Concord, NH where I wrote most of this.
Special thanks to Sue who oohed and aahed and cried over the
work as I wrote it and to Alys who made me hurry up and finish it.
I intended to write this as a blatant romance at a time when I
was feeling very down. Being me, I ended up with lots of angst
and drama. :) Hope you all enjoy.
Karen T. says this is really best read at all one sitting (and I
agree), but I don't want to flood anyone's inboxes. However,
if you want the whole thing and can read word documents
drop me an email and I'd be glad to send it all off to you! :)
********************
We Are Such Stuff.
It wasn't usual for them to come to her house. Most of the time she went to them - meeting at their headquarters or going to a victim's home. But for some reason - national security or some such, she supposed - they'd asked if they could meet here.
And of course she was running behind. The place was clean enough, but she'd had another of those comforting/disturbing dreams, which had left her with a need to sketch him yet again. She didn't know why she'd dreamed of her imaginary man last night, but she guessed that after 12 years and hundreds of sketches she should be used to his recurring presence in her dream life.
But the sketching had left her late and scrambling to collect all the things she'd need. She poured herself a cup of tea and then made herself pause, take a deep breath, center herself. She'd found a soothing presence helped people relax and made them better able to remember those little details about a face that could make her drawings really useful.
There was a knock on the door and she moved smoothly to answer it. The two agents there were ones she'd worked with before, but they were alone. She quirked one brow inquiringly as they entered.
"Jack will be joining us soon," Agent Hanlon said in response to her silent query. "We thought it prudent for him to arrive separately and after us for security reasons."
She knew better than to ask many questions. When you were on retainer with the CIA the less said the better.
Agent Thompson smiled at her acknowledging nod. "As always we appreciate your flexibility - and your discretion, Ma'am."
And my ridiculously high security clearance, she thought with quiet amusement, but merely smiled in response.
Agent Hanlon had wandered over to her table where the results of her last mad sketch fest still resided. "Shit," he said in amazement, staring at a picture of the man, "I didn't realize you knew -"
She saw what he was looking at and moved quickly to the table, aware of the hot blush flooding her cheeks, "I'm sorry," she interrupted him, beginning to gather up the loose papers. "I was sketching before you arrived and."
He picked up the sketch she'd been reaching for and offered it to Agent Thompson, who glanced at it without much interest, but then did a double take. "What the hell?"
"Look," she said, embarrassed beyond belief, "I didn't mean to leave these out. It's just, well, I've been having these odd dreams for years and this guy's always in them." She stretched out her hand for the drawing, fighting the urge to rip it away from them and hide it. "And I've found," she said, still waiting for it to be returned to her," I've found that if I draw him, kind of get him out of my mind." She stopped babbling, realizing that neither of them were listening to her.
They were both just staring at the picture. Staring and grinning like a couple of fools, she thought a bit angrily. "If you're quite finished," she said sharply and snatched the picture back. "I'm glad you find the idea of me drawing pictures of an imaginary man quite amusing, but if we could move on?"
She'd started back toward the table, rescued picture in hand, when there was a knock on the door. "Would one of you please?" she threw over her shoulder and proceeded to collect up the rest of her stray pictures to stow them safely away. She heard another person enter the room and the murmur of low voices, but took an extra moment to settle herself anyway.
With one last deep breath, she turned to greet the newcomer - and froze. The carefully collected drawings in their folder slipped out of her hands, spilling across the floor, but all she could do was stare.
Into the cold eyes of the man who had haunted her dreams for so many years.
He met her gaze emotionlessly. "Is there a problem, Ms.?"
"Uh, no!" she said, coming back to herself with a start. "I'm sorry. I just, uh. I should just pick these up."
She dropped down to her knees, trying desperately to collect all the wayward papers. He bent down to help her and stopped short at the sight of his own face, finely detailed, on the paper he held. He glanced at her sharply, "Do I know you from somewhere?"
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak under his piercing gaze.
"Then what the hell is this?" he demanded.
"It's. well. It's a long story," she began, feeling herself start to shake.
"I'll make the time," he said icily.
"Whoa, let's back up a little here," Agent Hanlon interrupted. "Before we start with the interrogations, maybe we could do some introductions?"
"Jack Bristow," the man said curtly, not letting his stare waver in the slightest.
"Rhiannon," she managed, "Rhiannon Ash."
"Well, Ms. Ash, perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell me what you're doing with multiple sketches of me in your possession?"
"It's not. He's not. They're pictures of someone I dream about. You're not, I mean he's not real!" She knew she sounded like a fool, but how the hell was she supposed to explain this? She was still in shock herself at seeing this man come walking in through her front door.
"I assure you, I am quite real, Ms. Ash," Jack said without easing up on his intense glare, "Quite real, and not inclined to accept fairy tales in lieu of explanations."
"Look," Agent Hanlon interrupted again, "as fascinating as this conversation is, maybe we could come back to it at a later time? We've got work to do here and the sooner we get started the better. Jack, if it relieves your concerns any, I can assure you that Ms. Ash has been thoroughly vetted. Her security clearance is even higher than mine."
Jack continued to stare for another moment, then abruptly nodded. "All right. But we'll return to this conversation later, Ms. Ash."
"Ree," she managed with a throat that felt as dry as dust, not sure why she even cared at this point. "Please, call me Ree."
He raised one eyebrow at her and gave another abrupt nod. "As you wish. Ree." He rose, extending a hand to assist her to her feet.
She pulled away as quickly as she could politely manage and, with shaking hands, slipped the folder full of damning pictures in with the other folders on the desk. She turned back to the three of them with the best professional smile she could muster. "So, Mr. Bristow, I assume you are the person the CIA wants me to work with?"
Agent Thompson stepped in. "Yes," he said quickly, hoping to reduce some of the tension by getting down to business, "Jack has recently had the opportunity to meet a man that the CIA would very much like to get their hands on. Unfortunately, he guards against being photographed very carefully, through a combination of an EM burst which disables most electronics and by staying in an unusually prismed room. Jack is the first of our people to get access to him and since he was unable to get a clear photograph, we're hoping that, with your help, we'll at least be able to get a clear high-quality sketch of the man."
Ree nodded, trying to look as competent as possible. She glanced over at Jack who was still watching her quite intently. "Shouldn't be a problem," she said with a pretense of calm. "Mr. Bristow, if you please?" She gestured toward the comfortable chair by her drawing desk.
"I'd rather stand," he said bluntly.
Now he was starting to annoy her. "Fine," she said shortly, "I will sit, if you don't mind. It would be a little difficult for me to draw effectively while standing."
An hour later everyone was thoroughly frustrated. Ree put her pencil down with exaggerated calm. "This is not going to work."
Agent Hanlon was on his feet immediately. "Ree, Ms. Ash. I don't think you understand how vital this could be to national security!"
Ree shot him a look. "At this rate you'd have as much luck just passing around a picture of Big Bird as you would from this disaster. Mr. Bristow clearly has issues with me, which are making it impossible for us to make any progress." Her glare in Jack's direction was met with equal intensity.
"You two can leave." Jack didn't take his eyes off Ree. "Ms. Ash and I will work this out on our own."
"But Jack, that is completely against protocol -"
"I don't give a damn about protocol. I want the two of you out of here. Now." The sharpness of his tone left no room for debate - not for anyone who valued their life.
"Uh. all right then. Jack, I assume you weren't followed?"
Jack shot a glare at Agent Thompson who visibly quailed.
"Right," the agent said a bit shakily, "Well, then. when you've, uh. gotten this all worked out, you'll contact us?"
"Are you still here?"
The two agents looked nervously at each other and then headed toward the door, glancing surreptitiously back at the two adversaries.
"Do you think.?" Agent Hanlon spoke quietly.
"Nah," Agent Thompson said. "They're both too controlled."
"But if they did? Who do you think.?"
"I wouldn't even know how to go about laying odds."
The agents left the house hurriedly, relieved to be out of the firing zone.
"Well?" Ree challenged once the agents had left. "Nothing's stopping you now. Go ahead."
Author: Mai
Email: Maisfeeka@AOL.com
Feedback: Always nice
Distribution: CD certainly. Others, just let me know, please.
Disclaimer: Alias and its characters do not belong to me. No
copyright infringement is intended here. Ree is mine.
Summary: A Jack Romance: What happens when someone
gets under Jack's skin?
Rating: R to NC-17.
Classification: AU, Romance, Angst, Drama, OC
A/N: Overwhelming thanks to Karen T. for being a fabulous
beta and friend. Also, thanks to the Tuesday night Irish musicians
at The Barley House in Concord, NH where I wrote most of this.
Special thanks to Sue who oohed and aahed and cried over the
work as I wrote it and to Alys who made me hurry up and finish it.
I intended to write this as a blatant romance at a time when I
was feeling very down. Being me, I ended up with lots of angst
and drama. :) Hope you all enjoy.
Karen T. says this is really best read at all one sitting (and I
agree), but I don't want to flood anyone's inboxes. However,
if you want the whole thing and can read word documents
drop me an email and I'd be glad to send it all off to you! :)
********************
We Are Such Stuff.
It wasn't usual for them to come to her house. Most of the time she went to them - meeting at their headquarters or going to a victim's home. But for some reason - national security or some such, she supposed - they'd asked if they could meet here.
And of course she was running behind. The place was clean enough, but she'd had another of those comforting/disturbing dreams, which had left her with a need to sketch him yet again. She didn't know why she'd dreamed of her imaginary man last night, but she guessed that after 12 years and hundreds of sketches she should be used to his recurring presence in her dream life.
But the sketching had left her late and scrambling to collect all the things she'd need. She poured herself a cup of tea and then made herself pause, take a deep breath, center herself. She'd found a soothing presence helped people relax and made them better able to remember those little details about a face that could make her drawings really useful.
There was a knock on the door and she moved smoothly to answer it. The two agents there were ones she'd worked with before, but they were alone. She quirked one brow inquiringly as they entered.
"Jack will be joining us soon," Agent Hanlon said in response to her silent query. "We thought it prudent for him to arrive separately and after us for security reasons."
She knew better than to ask many questions. When you were on retainer with the CIA the less said the better.
Agent Thompson smiled at her acknowledging nod. "As always we appreciate your flexibility - and your discretion, Ma'am."
And my ridiculously high security clearance, she thought with quiet amusement, but merely smiled in response.
Agent Hanlon had wandered over to her table where the results of her last mad sketch fest still resided. "Shit," he said in amazement, staring at a picture of the man, "I didn't realize you knew -"
She saw what he was looking at and moved quickly to the table, aware of the hot blush flooding her cheeks, "I'm sorry," she interrupted him, beginning to gather up the loose papers. "I was sketching before you arrived and."
He picked up the sketch she'd been reaching for and offered it to Agent Thompson, who glanced at it without much interest, but then did a double take. "What the hell?"
"Look," she said, embarrassed beyond belief, "I didn't mean to leave these out. It's just, well, I've been having these odd dreams for years and this guy's always in them." She stretched out her hand for the drawing, fighting the urge to rip it away from them and hide it. "And I've found," she said, still waiting for it to be returned to her," I've found that if I draw him, kind of get him out of my mind." She stopped babbling, realizing that neither of them were listening to her.
They were both just staring at the picture. Staring and grinning like a couple of fools, she thought a bit angrily. "If you're quite finished," she said sharply and snatched the picture back. "I'm glad you find the idea of me drawing pictures of an imaginary man quite amusing, but if we could move on?"
She'd started back toward the table, rescued picture in hand, when there was a knock on the door. "Would one of you please?" she threw over her shoulder and proceeded to collect up the rest of her stray pictures to stow them safely away. She heard another person enter the room and the murmur of low voices, but took an extra moment to settle herself anyway.
With one last deep breath, she turned to greet the newcomer - and froze. The carefully collected drawings in their folder slipped out of her hands, spilling across the floor, but all she could do was stare.
Into the cold eyes of the man who had haunted her dreams for so many years.
He met her gaze emotionlessly. "Is there a problem, Ms.?"
"Uh, no!" she said, coming back to herself with a start. "I'm sorry. I just, uh. I should just pick these up."
She dropped down to her knees, trying desperately to collect all the wayward papers. He bent down to help her and stopped short at the sight of his own face, finely detailed, on the paper he held. He glanced at her sharply, "Do I know you from somewhere?"
She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak under his piercing gaze.
"Then what the hell is this?" he demanded.
"It's. well. It's a long story," she began, feeling herself start to shake.
"I'll make the time," he said icily.
"Whoa, let's back up a little here," Agent Hanlon interrupted. "Before we start with the interrogations, maybe we could do some introductions?"
"Jack Bristow," the man said curtly, not letting his stare waver in the slightest.
"Rhiannon," she managed, "Rhiannon Ash."
"Well, Ms. Ash, perhaps you'd be kind enough to tell me what you're doing with multiple sketches of me in your possession?"
"It's not. He's not. They're pictures of someone I dream about. You're not, I mean he's not real!" She knew she sounded like a fool, but how the hell was she supposed to explain this? She was still in shock herself at seeing this man come walking in through her front door.
"I assure you, I am quite real, Ms. Ash," Jack said without easing up on his intense glare, "Quite real, and not inclined to accept fairy tales in lieu of explanations."
"Look," Agent Hanlon interrupted again, "as fascinating as this conversation is, maybe we could come back to it at a later time? We've got work to do here and the sooner we get started the better. Jack, if it relieves your concerns any, I can assure you that Ms. Ash has been thoroughly vetted. Her security clearance is even higher than mine."
Jack continued to stare for another moment, then abruptly nodded. "All right. But we'll return to this conversation later, Ms. Ash."
"Ree," she managed with a throat that felt as dry as dust, not sure why she even cared at this point. "Please, call me Ree."
He raised one eyebrow at her and gave another abrupt nod. "As you wish. Ree." He rose, extending a hand to assist her to her feet.
She pulled away as quickly as she could politely manage and, with shaking hands, slipped the folder full of damning pictures in with the other folders on the desk. She turned back to the three of them with the best professional smile she could muster. "So, Mr. Bristow, I assume you are the person the CIA wants me to work with?"
Agent Thompson stepped in. "Yes," he said quickly, hoping to reduce some of the tension by getting down to business, "Jack has recently had the opportunity to meet a man that the CIA would very much like to get their hands on. Unfortunately, he guards against being photographed very carefully, through a combination of an EM burst which disables most electronics and by staying in an unusually prismed room. Jack is the first of our people to get access to him and since he was unable to get a clear photograph, we're hoping that, with your help, we'll at least be able to get a clear high-quality sketch of the man."
Ree nodded, trying to look as competent as possible. She glanced over at Jack who was still watching her quite intently. "Shouldn't be a problem," she said with a pretense of calm. "Mr. Bristow, if you please?" She gestured toward the comfortable chair by her drawing desk.
"I'd rather stand," he said bluntly.
Now he was starting to annoy her. "Fine," she said shortly, "I will sit, if you don't mind. It would be a little difficult for me to draw effectively while standing."
An hour later everyone was thoroughly frustrated. Ree put her pencil down with exaggerated calm. "This is not going to work."
Agent Hanlon was on his feet immediately. "Ree, Ms. Ash. I don't think you understand how vital this could be to national security!"
Ree shot him a look. "At this rate you'd have as much luck just passing around a picture of Big Bird as you would from this disaster. Mr. Bristow clearly has issues with me, which are making it impossible for us to make any progress." Her glare in Jack's direction was met with equal intensity.
"You two can leave." Jack didn't take his eyes off Ree. "Ms. Ash and I will work this out on our own."
"But Jack, that is completely against protocol -"
"I don't give a damn about protocol. I want the two of you out of here. Now." The sharpness of his tone left no room for debate - not for anyone who valued their life.
"Uh. all right then. Jack, I assume you weren't followed?"
Jack shot a glare at Agent Thompson who visibly quailed.
"Right," the agent said a bit shakily, "Well, then. when you've, uh. gotten this all worked out, you'll contact us?"
"Are you still here?"
The two agents looked nervously at each other and then headed toward the door, glancing surreptitiously back at the two adversaries.
"Do you think.?" Agent Hanlon spoke quietly.
"Nah," Agent Thompson said. "They're both too controlled."
"But if they did? Who do you think.?"
"I wouldn't even know how to go about laying odds."
The agents left the house hurriedly, relieved to be out of the firing zone.
"Well?" Ree challenged once the agents had left. "Nothing's stopping you now. Go ahead."