Three Bricks Shy-Alias, PG-13 (A touch of the occult and some humor)
Peregrine
Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone and is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions
Vaughn visits his crazy aunt Trish.
*****
Chapter Two
First there was the problem of getting her into the building. She might have clearance, but these goons wouldn't allow just anyone to waltz into their lair. So I had to run this past Devlin, and I could guess what his reaction would be. With slightly shaking hands, I dialed my cell phone and listened to the series of clicks that connected me to his personal line.
"Devlin." He sounded tired and short of breath, like maybe he'd just jogged the length of the corridor to take this call.
OK, Vaughn, make it direct and right to the point. My words ran together as I blurted, "Sir, I'd like to bring in a consultant to help Bristow."
Silence, then the rasp of his asthmatic breathing in my ear. He hadn't shot me down, he was considering it, wasn't he? That counted for something. "What kind of consultant do you have in mind?"
His impatience crackled in my ear and my restless leg started doing a tap dance. Let's face it, the man intimidates me, and I'm not exactly in his good graces. The coin took up residence in my hand as I fidgeted out an answer. "The psychic kind."
"Run that by me again?" Devlin asked in disbelief.
"My aunt is renowned for her….abilities. Her name is Patrice Moreau and she's done a lot of work for the police and the FBI and…."
"I've heard the name." Now that was unexpected. Was Trish really so famous? What rock had I been living under all these years?
"Really? Well then, you understand why I'm making this request."
He snorted. "She's high risk, Vaughn. A certified loony….I mean, can we really depend on the word of someone who looks at tea leaves and gazes at crystal balls?"
"Sir….yes, I think we can," I asserted, my voice managing not to shake for once. "Bristow is too important….we can't risk blowing her cover and we're running out of options."
"Too important to us or too important to you?" Devlin shot back, leaving me feeling like all the oxygen had gone out of the room.
I caught my breath and half a dozen bits of snappy repartee came to mind. Biting my tongue hard, I replied, "Please, sir, can we at least try?"
Devlin sighed heavily and I could almost see him resting his head in his hand. "Very well, but I warn you, she is your responsibility, and if anything happens…..so help me, this is on your head."
"I understand, sir. Thank you. I won't disappoint you."
"You'll have the necessary papers signed and faxed within the hour." He hung up and I felt only slight relief, because the hardest part was yet to come. Convincing Trish would be about as easy as fox-trotting with a pit bull.
******
Thanks to everyone for the feedback. It means a lot. After tonight's show, I'll be diverging from canon, but hey, that's what fanfic is all about.
Peregrine
Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone and is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions
Vaughn visits his crazy aunt Trish.
*****
Chapter Two
First there was the problem of getting her into the building. She might have clearance, but these goons wouldn't allow just anyone to waltz into their lair. So I had to run this past Devlin, and I could guess what his reaction would be. With slightly shaking hands, I dialed my cell phone and listened to the series of clicks that connected me to his personal line.
"Devlin." He sounded tired and short of breath, like maybe he'd just jogged the length of the corridor to take this call.
OK, Vaughn, make it direct and right to the point. My words ran together as I blurted, "Sir, I'd like to bring in a consultant to help Bristow."
Silence, then the rasp of his asthmatic breathing in my ear. He hadn't shot me down, he was considering it, wasn't he? That counted for something. "What kind of consultant do you have in mind?"
His impatience crackled in my ear and my restless leg started doing a tap dance. Let's face it, the man intimidates me, and I'm not exactly in his good graces. The coin took up residence in my hand as I fidgeted out an answer. "The psychic kind."
"Run that by me again?" Devlin asked in disbelief.
"My aunt is renowned for her….abilities. Her name is Patrice Moreau and she's done a lot of work for the police and the FBI and…."
"I've heard the name." Now that was unexpected. Was Trish really so famous? What rock had I been living under all these years?
"Really? Well then, you understand why I'm making this request."
He snorted. "She's high risk, Vaughn. A certified loony….I mean, can we really depend on the word of someone who looks at tea leaves and gazes at crystal balls?"
"Sir….yes, I think we can," I asserted, my voice managing not to shake for once. "Bristow is too important….we can't risk blowing her cover and we're running out of options."
"Too important to us or too important to you?" Devlin shot back, leaving me feeling like all the oxygen had gone out of the room.
I caught my breath and half a dozen bits of snappy repartee came to mind. Biting my tongue hard, I replied, "Please, sir, can we at least try?"
Devlin sighed heavily and I could almost see him resting his head in his hand. "Very well, but I warn you, she is your responsibility, and if anything happens…..so help me, this is on your head."
"I understand, sir. Thank you. I won't disappoint you."
"You'll have the necessary papers signed and faxed within the hour." He hung up and I felt only slight relief, because the hardest part was yet to come. Convincing Trish would be about as easy as fox-trotting with a pit bull.
******
Thanks to everyone for the feedback. It means a lot. After tonight's show, I'll be diverging from canon, but hey, that's what fanfic is all about.