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 Four
"There's no answer," I reported, slightly relieved that Trish wasn't home.
"Big deal. Where does she live?" Weiss inquired, his dark eyes challenging me…..reminding me of another pair of chocolate drop eyes and filling me with guilt for my part in this.
"Georgetown." I forgot to mention that we're in DC, that they hauled Syd off on some government jet with the CIA contingent in hot pursuit. Haladki flew with his DSR buddies and Jack Bristow commandeered a transport for me, Weiss, and himself. I don't know if we are the Three Musketeers or the Three Stooges, but I know I don't feel very brave right now.
"She can afford to live there?" Trish could afford to live anywhere she wanted. I swear to God, she must have channeled King Midas, because she was floating in far more dough than any one person could use in a lifetime.
I nodded as he followed me down the corridor and out to the parking lot behind FBI headquarters. Ironic, isn't it, that the spooks are detaining her in the heart of Mulder and Scully country. OK, I find it ironic, because nobody else around here has a sense of humor. If any of them cracked a smile, their faces would probably disintegrate into a zillion puzzle pieces. Mismatched jigsaws, the whole lot of them, with their ill- fitting Armani and spit-shined shoes and overly gelled hair. The exception was Carson Evans. Don't even get me started on her because I'll probably kill someone or knock a hole in the wall with my fist. How dare she invade my turf and take away Sydney because of some fucking poem that someone had encoded on parchment? I didn't buy it and neither did Weiss. Complete garbage if you ask me, but nobody was asking my opinion. That's why I needed Trish to validate what I already knew was true. Despite her reputation and maybe because of it, people tended to underestimate her. I mean, I know what I used to think about ESP and those who espoused its cause. Then Trish gave me a clue and my whole life changed.
As I drove through the streets and listened to Eric warble along with the radio, my mind flew back to my graduation weekend and my last visit with Trish. She had this way about her….fey, almost elven, where she looked at you slyly and made some offhand comment, tossed out idly with one of her famous half smiles and a lift of her eyebrow.
Trish had touched my hand slightly and as her fingers made contact with the ring that my girlfriend Sharon had given me, she stopped dead, flash-frozen in her tracks with a terrified expression on her face. She clawed at her throat and gasped for air, her face turning red and then blue.
"Trish, what is it?" I had said desperately, thinking she was choking on something.
Her mouth opened and her features shifted like someone had painted a portrait before smearing the colors into an unrecognizable mess. With wide pupils, she teetered on four-inch heels and almost clobbered me with her outstretched hand. As I ducked, I heard this keening work its way out from deep within her before transforming itself into a piteous mewling. "Help me, help me please….."
I stilled my restless movements at the sound of those words. Not Trish's voice. Sharon's voice pleading, begging for mercy…. Sharon's face imprinted on Trish's…..it was more than I could stand. Blocking my ears, I remember running down the hall and barely reaching the toilet before I lost the contents of my stomach. Even that didn't help banish Trish's mantra and I had folded myself up into a ball on the cold, tile floor. Before today, my mind had been filled with my lack of job prospects and the possibility of living off my winnings as a pool shark. Now those selfish thoughts were replaced by the horrifying thought of losing my girlfriend. Tears would not come to me, not that day or all through the rest of the weekend that Sharon disappeared from my life. My aunt remembered nothing, and I wouldn't dare tell her what I'd witnessed. Time and time again, she tried to connect with me and I did nothing but shrug her away coldly, just like I had always done in our previous encounters. She passed from my life, silent and chilled by my indifference.
Six months of agony passed with no word and no jobs. I entered law school and was halfway through my first semester when they found Sharon's remains beneath a mound of leaves in Sequoia National Park. Death by asphyxiation. A senseless murder with no evidence and no motive. A coda to my thoughtless young life. Truly, I had thought she was my soul mate and I was destined to spend the rest of my life with her. After that, it was never the same for me. I could never give myself fully to any relationship and one after the other, the women all dropped from my life. Of course, the fact that I worked as an intelligence operative had nothing to do with that, right? Alice got closer than the others, but she saw the end several months before I did. And then a certain Bozo appeared on the horizon and I found that my life was meaningless without her. Our fates are intertwined and inextricably bound for all eternity. The moment I saw her, I was hopelessly lost in those eyes and her soul touched mine. What I had with Sharon barely touched the surface of what I felt for Syd. So I would do anything…..yes, anything to get her out of this mess. Follow her to the gates of hell or brave the likes of Aunt Trish. Whatever it would take to restore balance.
Weiss jerked me out of my reverie. "Is this it?" he asked in disbelief, pointing at an ancient black and white truck that was in stark contrast to the sea of expensive imports that dotted this wealthy neighborhood of Federal townhouses. It blocked the end of her driveway and coughed out clouds of black smoke as its owner slid from under its carapace, covered in soot and smudged with oil. Even at this distance, I could see her green eyes widen in recognition as she spotted me huddled behind the wheel.
With a sigh, I pulled in behind the badly rusted bumper of her truck and nodded my head in greeting. My aunt, ghost hunter and master mechanic. This truck was older than me and was strung together with bubble gum and bailing wire. She tossed down her tools and came running with a huge smile splitting her face.
Weiss grinned. "My, this ought to be interesting."
********
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 Four
"There's no answer," I reported, slightly relieved that Trish wasn't home.
"Big deal. Where does she live?" Weiss inquired, his dark eyes challenging me…..reminding me of another pair of chocolate drop eyes and filling me with guilt for my part in this.
"Georgetown." I forgot to mention that we're in DC, that they hauled Syd off on some government jet with the CIA contingent in hot pursuit. Haladki flew with his DSR buddies and Jack Bristow commandeered a transport for me, Weiss, and himself. I don't know if we are the Three Musketeers or the Three Stooges, but I know I don't feel very brave right now.
"She can afford to live there?" Trish could afford to live anywhere she wanted. I swear to God, she must have channeled King Midas, because she was floating in far more dough than any one person could use in a lifetime.
I nodded as he followed me down the corridor and out to the parking lot behind FBI headquarters. Ironic, isn't it, that the spooks are detaining her in the heart of Mulder and Scully country. OK, I find it ironic, because nobody else around here has a sense of humor. If any of them cracked a smile, their faces would probably disintegrate into a zillion puzzle pieces. Mismatched jigsaws, the whole lot of them, with their ill- fitting Armani and spit-shined shoes and overly gelled hair. The exception was Carson Evans. Don't even get me started on her because I'll probably kill someone or knock a hole in the wall with my fist. How dare she invade my turf and take away Sydney because of some fucking poem that someone had encoded on parchment? I didn't buy it and neither did Weiss. Complete garbage if you ask me, but nobody was asking my opinion. That's why I needed Trish to validate what I already knew was true. Despite her reputation and maybe because of it, people tended to underestimate her. I mean, I know what I used to think about ESP and those who espoused its cause. Then Trish gave me a clue and my whole life changed.
As I drove through the streets and listened to Eric warble along with the radio, my mind flew back to my graduation weekend and my last visit with Trish. She had this way about her….fey, almost elven, where she looked at you slyly and made some offhand comment, tossed out idly with one of her famous half smiles and a lift of her eyebrow.
Trish had touched my hand slightly and as her fingers made contact with the ring that my girlfriend Sharon had given me, she stopped dead, flash-frozen in her tracks with a terrified expression on her face. She clawed at her throat and gasped for air, her face turning red and then blue.
"Trish, what is it?" I had said desperately, thinking she was choking on something.
Her mouth opened and her features shifted like someone had painted a portrait before smearing the colors into an unrecognizable mess. With wide pupils, she teetered on four-inch heels and almost clobbered me with her outstretched hand. As I ducked, I heard this keening work its way out from deep within her before transforming itself into a piteous mewling. "Help me, help me please….."
I stilled my restless movements at the sound of those words. Not Trish's voice. Sharon's voice pleading, begging for mercy…. Sharon's face imprinted on Trish's…..it was more than I could stand. Blocking my ears, I remember running down the hall and barely reaching the toilet before I lost the contents of my stomach. Even that didn't help banish Trish's mantra and I had folded myself up into a ball on the cold, tile floor. Before today, my mind had been filled with my lack of job prospects and the possibility of living off my winnings as a pool shark. Now those selfish thoughts were replaced by the horrifying thought of losing my girlfriend. Tears would not come to me, not that day or all through the rest of the weekend that Sharon disappeared from my life. My aunt remembered nothing, and I wouldn't dare tell her what I'd witnessed. Time and time again, she tried to connect with me and I did nothing but shrug her away coldly, just like I had always done in our previous encounters. She passed from my life, silent and chilled by my indifference.
Six months of agony passed with no word and no jobs. I entered law school and was halfway through my first semester when they found Sharon's remains beneath a mound of leaves in Sequoia National Park. Death by asphyxiation. A senseless murder with no evidence and no motive. A coda to my thoughtless young life. Truly, I had thought she was my soul mate and I was destined to spend the rest of my life with her. After that, it was never the same for me. I could never give myself fully to any relationship and one after the other, the women all dropped from my life. Of course, the fact that I worked as an intelligence operative had nothing to do with that, right? Alice got closer than the others, but she saw the end several months before I did. And then a certain Bozo appeared on the horizon and I found that my life was meaningless without her. Our fates are intertwined and inextricably bound for all eternity. The moment I saw her, I was hopelessly lost in those eyes and her soul touched mine. What I had with Sharon barely touched the surface of what I felt for Syd. So I would do anything…..yes, anything to get her out of this mess. Follow her to the gates of hell or brave the likes of Aunt Trish. Whatever it would take to restore balance.
Weiss jerked me out of my reverie. "Is this it?" he asked in disbelief, pointing at an ancient black and white truck that was in stark contrast to the sea of expensive imports that dotted this wealthy neighborhood of Federal townhouses. It blocked the end of her driveway and coughed out clouds of black smoke as its owner slid from under its carapace, covered in soot and smudged with oil. Even at this distance, I could see her green eyes widen in recognition as she spotted me huddled behind the wheel.
With a sigh, I pulled in behind the badly rusted bumper of her truck and nodded my head in greeting. My aunt, ghost hunter and master mechanic. This truck was older than me and was strung together with bubble gum and bailing wire. She tossed down her tools and came running with a huge smile splitting her face.
Weiss grinned. "My, this ought to be interesting."
********