A/N: I realized I forgot my disclaimer in the first chapter. So, if you
thought I owned Alias, then I'm sorry to disappoint you. Unfortunately, I
don't own The Princess Bride, either. No more rhymes now, I mean it!
Anybody want a peanut?
A/N 2: Wow! I was overwhelmed by everyone's great reviews! They were great for inspiration for me to write more, although not so good for my attention in my folk music class, since I was so busy writing...truly, your reviews are what make me want to write. Keep it up! Oh, and Vaughn should make an appearance in the next chapter.
Eric Weis was normally a very placid guy. He didn't let things ruffle his feathers, so to speak. He found simple pleasure in the joys of getting drunk and of playing with a yo-yo. He tried not to let himself get too stressed about work, because he knew once you started down that path you were lost to the terrible world of sleepless nights and unending worry.
He was afraid that he had started down that path.
It was nine o'clock at night and he was still at work. Everyone else had left except the night-shift guards, but somehow he found himself still sitting at his desk and trying to grapple with this new situation. He had been shocked, to say the least, to learn that Jack Bristow had a daughter. Somehow he couldn't picture a woman ever marrying the man, let alone having a child with him. He had always taken comfort in the fact that no matter how riled up he and Mike---Michael Vaughn---got about a situation at SD-6, Jack Bristow would always take care of the situation with his cool collection and biting, sarcastic remarks.
But now things were different.
Jack had a daughter, for one thing. For another, she was a butt-kicking terrorist with a love of The Princess Bride. For another, he told himself, wishing he had a beer, her mother---Jack's wife (Jack had been horrified to realize he was still officially married to the woman)---was The Man. Irina Derevko. The murderer of Mike's father. For another, he sighed to himself, wishing he had a yo-yo, Sydney Bristow was here because she felt some strange obligation to help Mike because her mother killed his father. Weis didn't think Mike would appreciate her help; in fact, he was afraid that Mike would try to kill her once he learned the connection she had to his father's death. Although, to be honest, he knew that Sydney would be able to kick his agent's butt without breaking a sweat.
Of course, that would probably put them off on the wrong foot, since she had decided to be Mike's partner, and somehow she had convinced Devlin to approve her as a CIA agent within SD-6.
He growled to himself. Mike was the first agent he had ever handled; before Mike came along a year or so ago, he had just been a paper-pusher. He had tried to do as he had been told, had tried not to get involved with his agent, but he couldn't help it. Mike was so broken when they met; fresh back from a meeting with an amateur dentist who had never heard of anesthetics, he had just learned that SD-6 was in fact not part of the CIA. The entire life he had thought he was living had been a lie, and his ignorance had led to the death of his fiancé, Alice. Weis hadn't been able to keep himself from pitying his agent. It hadn't taken him long to learn that Michael Vaughn did not appreciate pity. It also didn't take long for Weis' pity to morph into awe and respect at his agent's dedication and skill. Despite his best attempts to avoid emotional ties, he had found himself becoming a good friend to Mike; the only person Mike could really talk to (other than Jack Bristow, and nobody could talk to Jack Bristow).
He was worried about the effect the appearance of Jack's daughter would have on his friend's equilibrium. He rubbed his eyes. At least they had several days to figure out what to do. Mike was on a vacation in Santa Barbara; after his last mission, in which his partner, Dixon, had died, and he had been captured and had barely escaped with his life, even Arvin Sloane acknowledged that he deserved some time off. He was due back at the end of the week.
He turned off his computer. What were Sydney's intentions? She was a terrorist who had worked against the CIA for at least a year, who even acknowledged that she had no loyalty to the CIA, but for some reason people had decided to trust her. Weis had never thought he would think this, but maybe Jack was letting his emotions get in the way of his work. She was probably out to betray them all!
He began to walk out of the office when he stopped. She was in the building with him, after all. Why shouldn't he have a conversation with her, to try to find out her real intentions? *Even though she probably thinks I'm a complete fool* he thought glumly. When he had attempted to punch her from behind on the training mat earlier that day, he hadn't dreamt that he would soon find himself lying flat on his back, all the breath knocked out of him and a roaring headache beginning to form. Then, of course, there was that fiasco earlier that day with the Russian accent.. .
*STOP* he commanded himself. He couldn't let her intimidate him; after all, she was the one locked up in a cage. He took a deep breath and went to see the prisoner.
* * * * *
She had been moved from the interrogation room to a high-security holding cell. Weis had to walk through several barred gates before he found himself standing in front of her cell. There was a thin but extremely strong layer of glass which separated them. He got an eery feeling that he was Clarice meeting Hannibal in the Silence of the Lambs. He found himself inanely wondering whether she was able to smell his fear.
She was seated on the floor with her back facing him, and she was breathing deeply. After a moment, she stood and turned to face him. "A meditation my mother taught me," she said in her sweet voice. "All the benefits of sleep in a fraction of the time."
He began to nod, but he caught himself and stopped. *Don't let her distract you!* "I want to know what your intentions are toward Mike."
Her eyebrow rose. "Mike? I assume you mean Michael Vaughn? You are, after all, his handler, are you not, Agent Weis?" She seemed perfectly calm in the face of his suspicion.
"How did you know that?" he demanded. The fact that Mike even had a handler was a huge secret; if she was able to learn the identity of his handler, then she---and by extension, The Man, and whoever else found out--- held the power to reveal Mike's double agent status.
She laughed slightly, a pleasant sound. "Please, Weis," she said. "Have enough respect for me to know that I did my research before I came here. As to my intentions towards your---friend?" She seemed to want his confirmation that he thought of Mike as a friend. He nodded reluctantly. "I merely want to help him. I'm sure you've read the transcript of my conversation with my father. I told no lies. My sole purpose here is to help him get the life he wants, and deserves." Her words and tone held the ring of truth.
He stared at her uncertainly. "What happened to you?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You're---different than you were earlier today. Your entire attitude has changed."
She considered his question briefly, wondering how much to tell him. She decided on the complete truth; for some reason, she found herself wanting this man to like her. Not just because he was Vaughn's friend, but because he seemed like a nice man in his own right. "I'm a spy, Agent Weis. In the past year I've assumed so many aliases, it's hard to keep them straight. However, I do keep a store of them, of sorts, which I can draw upon if I ever find myself in a situation for which one of them is more suited than Sydney Bristow."
He looked confused. "So... who am I talking to right now?"
"Kate Jones."
"Why do you feel the need to hide behind your aliases? I would rather talk to Sydney Bristow than any non-existent alias."
Her face shifted in an instant, her cool composure losing to an expression of shame, disgust, and unhappiness. "Because, Agent Weis," she spat, and he knew he was talking to Sydney now, "after all my aliases, sometimes it's hard to know exactly who I am. And, with the things I've learned in the past few weeks, the things I feel about what I've learned, I don't know that I want to be Sydney Bristow." He was shocked to see tears falling slowly down her face.
In moments, she had converted his feelings toward her from fear and anger to---sympathy?
"But I'll promise you right now, Weis, as Sydney Bristow, that I would never, never hurt Vaughn. I'm here to make up for the fact that he was hurt. Sometimes it's hard to tell where my true loyalty lies, Agent Weis, especially now that I'm becoming a double agent. But those that I am loyal to, I would never betray. I've committed myself to helping Agent Vaughn bring down SD-6. I would die to see that goal fulfilled."
He gazed into her passionate eyes and believed every word. He wondered sadly how someone so young could be so old.
Finally he nodded. "Thank you for that. Mike is... a very good agent, but sometimes I worry that his obsession with bringing down SD-6 will kill him. It's good to know there'll be someone else there to help him."
She nodded. "I'll take care of him," she promised.
He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I guess I'll let you go now."
He turned to leave, but stopped when she called, "Wait!" He turned. "Stay with me for a while, please? I'm not used to being so alone."
"Um... OK," he said hesitantly. He wondered if he was going to get in trouble for conversing with the prisoner. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" she suggested.
His eyes widened, and he had another flash to his Clarice-Hannibal picture of this situation. "How about we make a deal? Whatever you ask me, you have to answer, too."
She smiled at him, and it was the first genuine smile he had seen on her face. "You're cleverer than you look, Agent Weis," she said, and he wasn't sure whether he had just been complimented. "Very well. What's your favorite movie?"
He thought about lying and saying a very manly movie, but he suspected she would know if he was lying. "The Thomas Crown Affair," he admitted. He was glad to see that she nodded approvingly. "You?"
She rolled her eyes at him. "The Princess Bride. Oh, and I was wanting to commend you for being able to quote that at me. Very impressive for a twenty-something CIA agent."
"Thanks... I think."
"Favorite childhood memory?"
"My first kiss. I was five, and she was four. She left me for a boy with a skateboard, a day later, though."
She laughed. "Mine is of my sixth birthday. Every birthday, we would go to the zoo and I would play with the animals. My sixth was the first year I was able to ride the ponies, with my parents on both sides of me waiting to catch me if I fell. And I knew that they would always be there for me." She was suddenly sobered. "Of course, my next birthday was spent running for my life as someone found my mother and me hiding in Russia."
He felt a resurgence of pity for her. He couldn't imagine living a life on the run; in fact, the fact that he was a handler and not a field agent meant that he didn't even need to conceal his identity from the people he loved. He knew how Mike hated living a double---or, in his case, triple--- life, and he could imagine that Sydney hated it as much. "OK," he said cheerfully. "My turn to ask a question." Over her protestations that that wasn't the deal, he shook his head. "No, no, I get to have a turn. Let's see...I know Mike is always dying his hair for his missions. How many hair colors have you had, and what was your favorite?"
She grinned. "You just had to ask vain old me about my hair color, didn't you? I try to be relatively conservative with my hair colors. You know, I like to stick to good old bright pink, or blue. I've probably had dyes and wigs of five colors or so. My favorite is my natural brown. How about you? How many wacky hair colors have you tried, Mr. Secret Agent Man?"
He smirked. "Well, when I was about fifteen, I had my hair dyed green. After my mother's dressing-down when she saw me, I've stuck to my natural color, too. Although, I must say, choosing between my natural beauty with either green or brown hair would be difficult." He fluttered his eyelashes at her in what he clearly thought was an alluring way. She laughed.
They were still sitting there an hour later, when Weis looked at his watch and realized that it was probably time to go home. He had enjoyed her company immensely, and he liked to think that she had appreciated his, as well. He had expected her to be clever, sarcastic like her father, and probably a curmudgeon. He hadn't expected her to be funny or to be able to provide more Monty Python quotes than even he could manage.
He reluctantly stood to leave. "Well, good night," he said.
"Good night," she replied softly. "And, Agent Weis, thank you."
"For what?"
"I know you didn't have to come speak with me. In fact, you would probably get in trouble if your supervisors learned that you had spent the past hour down here. But, it's good to know there's a nice, funny, smart guy Vaughn can depend on, and who, I think, I've become friends with. Thank you for taking the time to get to know me, and to let me get to know you." She blushed slightly, looking embarrassed, and retreated to a corner of her cell, lying on her bed, listening to his footsteps as he walked away.
* * * * * *
*I'm a nice, funny, smart guy? Vaughn, look out. You're gonna love this gal, and I don't know if even you can withstand the emotional rollercoaster that would involve!*
A/N 2: Wow! I was overwhelmed by everyone's great reviews! They were great for inspiration for me to write more, although not so good for my attention in my folk music class, since I was so busy writing...truly, your reviews are what make me want to write. Keep it up! Oh, and Vaughn should make an appearance in the next chapter.
Eric Weis was normally a very placid guy. He didn't let things ruffle his feathers, so to speak. He found simple pleasure in the joys of getting drunk and of playing with a yo-yo. He tried not to let himself get too stressed about work, because he knew once you started down that path you were lost to the terrible world of sleepless nights and unending worry.
He was afraid that he had started down that path.
It was nine o'clock at night and he was still at work. Everyone else had left except the night-shift guards, but somehow he found himself still sitting at his desk and trying to grapple with this new situation. He had been shocked, to say the least, to learn that Jack Bristow had a daughter. Somehow he couldn't picture a woman ever marrying the man, let alone having a child with him. He had always taken comfort in the fact that no matter how riled up he and Mike---Michael Vaughn---got about a situation at SD-6, Jack Bristow would always take care of the situation with his cool collection and biting, sarcastic remarks.
But now things were different.
Jack had a daughter, for one thing. For another, she was a butt-kicking terrorist with a love of The Princess Bride. For another, he told himself, wishing he had a beer, her mother---Jack's wife (Jack had been horrified to realize he was still officially married to the woman)---was The Man. Irina Derevko. The murderer of Mike's father. For another, he sighed to himself, wishing he had a yo-yo, Sydney Bristow was here because she felt some strange obligation to help Mike because her mother killed his father. Weis didn't think Mike would appreciate her help; in fact, he was afraid that Mike would try to kill her once he learned the connection she had to his father's death. Although, to be honest, he knew that Sydney would be able to kick his agent's butt without breaking a sweat.
Of course, that would probably put them off on the wrong foot, since she had decided to be Mike's partner, and somehow she had convinced Devlin to approve her as a CIA agent within SD-6.
He growled to himself. Mike was the first agent he had ever handled; before Mike came along a year or so ago, he had just been a paper-pusher. He had tried to do as he had been told, had tried not to get involved with his agent, but he couldn't help it. Mike was so broken when they met; fresh back from a meeting with an amateur dentist who had never heard of anesthetics, he had just learned that SD-6 was in fact not part of the CIA. The entire life he had thought he was living had been a lie, and his ignorance had led to the death of his fiancé, Alice. Weis hadn't been able to keep himself from pitying his agent. It hadn't taken him long to learn that Michael Vaughn did not appreciate pity. It also didn't take long for Weis' pity to morph into awe and respect at his agent's dedication and skill. Despite his best attempts to avoid emotional ties, he had found himself becoming a good friend to Mike; the only person Mike could really talk to (other than Jack Bristow, and nobody could talk to Jack Bristow).
He was worried about the effect the appearance of Jack's daughter would have on his friend's equilibrium. He rubbed his eyes. At least they had several days to figure out what to do. Mike was on a vacation in Santa Barbara; after his last mission, in which his partner, Dixon, had died, and he had been captured and had barely escaped with his life, even Arvin Sloane acknowledged that he deserved some time off. He was due back at the end of the week.
He turned off his computer. What were Sydney's intentions? She was a terrorist who had worked against the CIA for at least a year, who even acknowledged that she had no loyalty to the CIA, but for some reason people had decided to trust her. Weis had never thought he would think this, but maybe Jack was letting his emotions get in the way of his work. She was probably out to betray them all!
He began to walk out of the office when he stopped. She was in the building with him, after all. Why shouldn't he have a conversation with her, to try to find out her real intentions? *Even though she probably thinks I'm a complete fool* he thought glumly. When he had attempted to punch her from behind on the training mat earlier that day, he hadn't dreamt that he would soon find himself lying flat on his back, all the breath knocked out of him and a roaring headache beginning to form. Then, of course, there was that fiasco earlier that day with the Russian accent.. .
*STOP* he commanded himself. He couldn't let her intimidate him; after all, she was the one locked up in a cage. He took a deep breath and went to see the prisoner.
* * * * *
She had been moved from the interrogation room to a high-security holding cell. Weis had to walk through several barred gates before he found himself standing in front of her cell. There was a thin but extremely strong layer of glass which separated them. He got an eery feeling that he was Clarice meeting Hannibal in the Silence of the Lambs. He found himself inanely wondering whether she was able to smell his fear.
She was seated on the floor with her back facing him, and she was breathing deeply. After a moment, she stood and turned to face him. "A meditation my mother taught me," she said in her sweet voice. "All the benefits of sleep in a fraction of the time."
He began to nod, but he caught himself and stopped. *Don't let her distract you!* "I want to know what your intentions are toward Mike."
Her eyebrow rose. "Mike? I assume you mean Michael Vaughn? You are, after all, his handler, are you not, Agent Weis?" She seemed perfectly calm in the face of his suspicion.
"How did you know that?" he demanded. The fact that Mike even had a handler was a huge secret; if she was able to learn the identity of his handler, then she---and by extension, The Man, and whoever else found out--- held the power to reveal Mike's double agent status.
She laughed slightly, a pleasant sound. "Please, Weis," she said. "Have enough respect for me to know that I did my research before I came here. As to my intentions towards your---friend?" She seemed to want his confirmation that he thought of Mike as a friend. He nodded reluctantly. "I merely want to help him. I'm sure you've read the transcript of my conversation with my father. I told no lies. My sole purpose here is to help him get the life he wants, and deserves." Her words and tone held the ring of truth.
He stared at her uncertainly. "What happened to you?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You're---different than you were earlier today. Your entire attitude has changed."
She considered his question briefly, wondering how much to tell him. She decided on the complete truth; for some reason, she found herself wanting this man to like her. Not just because he was Vaughn's friend, but because he seemed like a nice man in his own right. "I'm a spy, Agent Weis. In the past year I've assumed so many aliases, it's hard to keep them straight. However, I do keep a store of them, of sorts, which I can draw upon if I ever find myself in a situation for which one of them is more suited than Sydney Bristow."
He looked confused. "So... who am I talking to right now?"
"Kate Jones."
"Why do you feel the need to hide behind your aliases? I would rather talk to Sydney Bristow than any non-existent alias."
Her face shifted in an instant, her cool composure losing to an expression of shame, disgust, and unhappiness. "Because, Agent Weis," she spat, and he knew he was talking to Sydney now, "after all my aliases, sometimes it's hard to know exactly who I am. And, with the things I've learned in the past few weeks, the things I feel about what I've learned, I don't know that I want to be Sydney Bristow." He was shocked to see tears falling slowly down her face.
In moments, she had converted his feelings toward her from fear and anger to---sympathy?
"But I'll promise you right now, Weis, as Sydney Bristow, that I would never, never hurt Vaughn. I'm here to make up for the fact that he was hurt. Sometimes it's hard to tell where my true loyalty lies, Agent Weis, especially now that I'm becoming a double agent. But those that I am loyal to, I would never betray. I've committed myself to helping Agent Vaughn bring down SD-6. I would die to see that goal fulfilled."
He gazed into her passionate eyes and believed every word. He wondered sadly how someone so young could be so old.
Finally he nodded. "Thank you for that. Mike is... a very good agent, but sometimes I worry that his obsession with bringing down SD-6 will kill him. It's good to know there'll be someone else there to help him."
She nodded. "I'll take care of him," she promised.
He shifted uncomfortably. "Well, I guess I'll let you go now."
He turned to leave, but stopped when she called, "Wait!" He turned. "Stay with me for a while, please? I'm not used to being so alone."
"Um... OK," he said hesitantly. He wondered if he was going to get in trouble for conversing with the prisoner. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" she suggested.
His eyes widened, and he had another flash to his Clarice-Hannibal picture of this situation. "How about we make a deal? Whatever you ask me, you have to answer, too."
She smiled at him, and it was the first genuine smile he had seen on her face. "You're cleverer than you look, Agent Weis," she said, and he wasn't sure whether he had just been complimented. "Very well. What's your favorite movie?"
He thought about lying and saying a very manly movie, but he suspected she would know if he was lying. "The Thomas Crown Affair," he admitted. He was glad to see that she nodded approvingly. "You?"
She rolled her eyes at him. "The Princess Bride. Oh, and I was wanting to commend you for being able to quote that at me. Very impressive for a twenty-something CIA agent."
"Thanks... I think."
"Favorite childhood memory?"
"My first kiss. I was five, and she was four. She left me for a boy with a skateboard, a day later, though."
She laughed. "Mine is of my sixth birthday. Every birthday, we would go to the zoo and I would play with the animals. My sixth was the first year I was able to ride the ponies, with my parents on both sides of me waiting to catch me if I fell. And I knew that they would always be there for me." She was suddenly sobered. "Of course, my next birthday was spent running for my life as someone found my mother and me hiding in Russia."
He felt a resurgence of pity for her. He couldn't imagine living a life on the run; in fact, the fact that he was a handler and not a field agent meant that he didn't even need to conceal his identity from the people he loved. He knew how Mike hated living a double---or, in his case, triple--- life, and he could imagine that Sydney hated it as much. "OK," he said cheerfully. "My turn to ask a question." Over her protestations that that wasn't the deal, he shook his head. "No, no, I get to have a turn. Let's see...I know Mike is always dying his hair for his missions. How many hair colors have you had, and what was your favorite?"
She grinned. "You just had to ask vain old me about my hair color, didn't you? I try to be relatively conservative with my hair colors. You know, I like to stick to good old bright pink, or blue. I've probably had dyes and wigs of five colors or so. My favorite is my natural brown. How about you? How many wacky hair colors have you tried, Mr. Secret Agent Man?"
He smirked. "Well, when I was about fifteen, I had my hair dyed green. After my mother's dressing-down when she saw me, I've stuck to my natural color, too. Although, I must say, choosing between my natural beauty with either green or brown hair would be difficult." He fluttered his eyelashes at her in what he clearly thought was an alluring way. She laughed.
They were still sitting there an hour later, when Weis looked at his watch and realized that it was probably time to go home. He had enjoyed her company immensely, and he liked to think that she had appreciated his, as well. He had expected her to be clever, sarcastic like her father, and probably a curmudgeon. He hadn't expected her to be funny or to be able to provide more Monty Python quotes than even he could manage.
He reluctantly stood to leave. "Well, good night," he said.
"Good night," she replied softly. "And, Agent Weis, thank you."
"For what?"
"I know you didn't have to come speak with me. In fact, you would probably get in trouble if your supervisors learned that you had spent the past hour down here. But, it's good to know there's a nice, funny, smart guy Vaughn can depend on, and who, I think, I've become friends with. Thank you for taking the time to get to know me, and to let me get to know you." She blushed slightly, looking embarrassed, and retreated to a corner of her cell, lying on her bed, listening to his footsteps as he walked away.
* * * * * *
*I'm a nice, funny, smart guy? Vaughn, look out. You're gonna love this gal, and I don't know if even you can withstand the emotional rollercoaster that would involve!*
