Tomorrow's Promise
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.
Rating: PG for mild language.
Archive: Please ask first.
Feedback: Welcomed, especially if you like the story enough for me to keep writing it.
Author's Note: I have not done any research, so everything thing in here is fiction. I chose to spend my time writing instead of doing research. Now, if the Mr. Abrams comes knocking on my door, asking me to join his staff, I'll happily start researching.
Chapter Eight - Missing Pieces
Will was having trouble adjusting to his new popularity. He had not been alone since the plane landed. Weiss and at least three other agents were with him while he was treated at the hospital. And now his new staff was getting him acquainted with his new safe house.
"Two safe houses in two weeks," Will said as he looked around the living room. "I don't suppose I broke a record or anything?" he looked at Weiss.
"Not even close," Weiss said matter-of-factly and headed for the kitchen where the other two agents were.
Will flopped down on a couch that reminded him of one of his college apartments. "The amount of money I pay in taxes and this is the best the CIA can do?" Will mumbled to himself.
"What was that?" Weiss asked defensively as he walked back into the living room.
"Nothing. Nothing," Will replied. As Weiss walked by Will, he handed him a bottle of beer. "Thanks, man," Will said gratefully.
Weiss sat down in a chair directly across from Will, opened up a bottle of water and took a drink. Will took note of the water; "They don't seriously keep you from drinking on duty, do they?"
"There is no official company policy on it if that's what you mean," Weiss said.
"That's good. I mean considering the kind of work you guys do, you should be able to have a drink any time you want," Will said. Weiss smiled slightly. "But, don't get me wrong. I really appreciate you staying sober on this particular assignment. Here's to you!" Will raised his beer to Weiss in a toast and then took a long drink. Weiss' smile grew larger.
After a few quiet moments, Will asked, "So, is this safe house safer than the last one?"
"We have more security here than we did at the other one. Believe me, you're quite safe."
Will chuckled sarcastically, "I haven't been safe since Danny's death." Will took another drink and then looked Weiss in the eyes. "How long will I be here?"
"I'm not the case officer on this, so I can't say for sure. But I imagine that you will be here until you make a decision."
"Decision? What decision?" Will asked.
"The one about whether you want to go into the witness protection program or not," Weiss said.
"Oh yeah, that decision," Will said and finished off his beer.
*****
Around 9:30 that morning, at a cabin about an hour north of LA, Irina walked out onto the porch with a copy of the LA Times and a cup of coffee. She had not slept since they had arrived at the cabin. Being back in the United States had made her oddly sentimental. She was caught up in thoughts of her life when she lived in LA.
It wasn't long before Khasinea joined her on the porch, bringing her a plate of eggs and toast. "Thank you, Alex" Irina said as she set down the paper.
They ate in silence until Sark joined them. "I do love the United States," Sark said. "I hope that I get to spend more time here than I did last time."
"There's no doubt about that, dear boy," Irina said.
Sark sat down on the porch facing Irina and Khasinea. "If you don't mind, can I ask just exactly what it is we're doing here?" Sark asked casually.
Irina had finished her breakfast and set the plate on a small table between her and Khasinea. "You mean why did I let Sydney go? That's what you really want to know, isn't it?"
Khasinea and Sark looked at each other. Sark looked at Irina, "Yes, that is at the heart of the matter, I'd say."
"There are several reasons. First of all, it was too messy. I had no desire to get three more people involved in this."
Again Sark and Khasinea looked at each other. Knowing that Khasinea would not say anything, Sark said, "They were already involved. We've been trying to expose Bristow for several years now. Tippin's usefulness has been exhausted. And Vaughn is insignificant. No one would miss him."
"They would be unnecessary complications - unpredictable elements."
"Irina, are you trying to convince us or yourself?" Khasinea asked. "You've never hesitated to eliminate such complications in the past." Irina glared at Khasinea, but he continued, "I'm afraid you are too close to this to see . . ."
Irina stood up abruptly and Khasinea stopped talking. She walked to the edge of the porch, standing over Sark with her back to Khasinea. "I can tell that you have been giving this some thought, Alex. And exactly who do you think I'm too close to? Jack or Sydney?" Irina spun around to face Khasinea.
Khasinea considered her question. "I'm certain you are too close to Jack Bristow, otherwise you would have killed him 25 years ago when I gave you the order. And your daughter? I think that no matter what you say -- to yourself or to us --you would do most anything to protect her."
Anger flickered in her eyes, but Irina maintained her outward calm, "Mmmm, that is a very interesting analysis, but there are two flaws in it. First, while most women would feel the things that you describe, I am not most women. And secondly, you do not have the big picture of Rambaldi's vision.
"When we traded Tippin for the page, we thought the page held the missing piece. When putting the page in relation to all of his work, it became obvious that we are farther away from the solution than we thought."
Irina paused to give both men a reproachful glare. "There must be at least three other pieces within his works that we do not have. But I'm certain that Sydney can lead us to one of them."
"That takes us back to my initial question: why did we let her leave Taipei?" Sark asked.
"As you recall, that first day after we got possession of the page, we were pretty busy caring for Sydney," Irina said.
"Ah, yes," Sark said as if he were fondly recalling a memory. "One of my favorite assignments."
Irina smiled at Sark and patted him on the head. "The page had a sketch of a necklace. An unusual necklace that could be separated and made into two necklaces." Irina paused and pulled a chain from under her blouse. "I have one part of that necklace. Sydney has the other."
Khasinea stood up to get a better look. He had never seen Irina wear it before. It was definitely an antique. A thick, rope like chain held a gold medallion approximately two and a half inches in diameter. The center of the medallion had been cut out making it look like a miniature donut. Seven stones, all different colors, were set around the perimeter of the piece. On the back a series of numbers were engraved around the edge. The numbers were so small that they appeared to be an abstract design.
"Where did you get this?" Khasinea asked.
"I bought it many years ago at a flea market. When I bought it, it looked like nothing but costume jewelry, but after a good cleaning . . ." she looked down at the necklace. "I gave Sydney the companion piece."
Sark stood up. "So, by the time you realized this, Sydney's memory was too far gone."
"Yes," Irina said. "I sent our LA team to her house, and to Jack's house but they were unable to find it."
"But it is unlikely that she would remember it now," Khasinea observed.
"It is quite possible that with hypnosis she will remember the necklace and we can recover it." Khasinea looked at her skeptically. "She is the best chance we have at getting the necklace, and completing his work."
Disclaimer: Everything Alias is the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, and Touchstone. Please consider this a humble tribute to the genius of the Alias characters and plotlines. No harm intended.
Rating: PG for mild language.
Archive: Please ask first.
Feedback: Welcomed, especially if you like the story enough for me to keep writing it.
Author's Note: I have not done any research, so everything thing in here is fiction. I chose to spend my time writing instead of doing research. Now, if the Mr. Abrams comes knocking on my door, asking me to join his staff, I'll happily start researching.
Chapter Eight - Missing Pieces
Will was having trouble adjusting to his new popularity. He had not been alone since the plane landed. Weiss and at least three other agents were with him while he was treated at the hospital. And now his new staff was getting him acquainted with his new safe house.
"Two safe houses in two weeks," Will said as he looked around the living room. "I don't suppose I broke a record or anything?" he looked at Weiss.
"Not even close," Weiss said matter-of-factly and headed for the kitchen where the other two agents were.
Will flopped down on a couch that reminded him of one of his college apartments. "The amount of money I pay in taxes and this is the best the CIA can do?" Will mumbled to himself.
"What was that?" Weiss asked defensively as he walked back into the living room.
"Nothing. Nothing," Will replied. As Weiss walked by Will, he handed him a bottle of beer. "Thanks, man," Will said gratefully.
Weiss sat down in a chair directly across from Will, opened up a bottle of water and took a drink. Will took note of the water; "They don't seriously keep you from drinking on duty, do they?"
"There is no official company policy on it if that's what you mean," Weiss said.
"That's good. I mean considering the kind of work you guys do, you should be able to have a drink any time you want," Will said. Weiss smiled slightly. "But, don't get me wrong. I really appreciate you staying sober on this particular assignment. Here's to you!" Will raised his beer to Weiss in a toast and then took a long drink. Weiss' smile grew larger.
After a few quiet moments, Will asked, "So, is this safe house safer than the last one?"
"We have more security here than we did at the other one. Believe me, you're quite safe."
Will chuckled sarcastically, "I haven't been safe since Danny's death." Will took another drink and then looked Weiss in the eyes. "How long will I be here?"
"I'm not the case officer on this, so I can't say for sure. But I imagine that you will be here until you make a decision."
"Decision? What decision?" Will asked.
"The one about whether you want to go into the witness protection program or not," Weiss said.
"Oh yeah, that decision," Will said and finished off his beer.
*****
Around 9:30 that morning, at a cabin about an hour north of LA, Irina walked out onto the porch with a copy of the LA Times and a cup of coffee. She had not slept since they had arrived at the cabin. Being back in the United States had made her oddly sentimental. She was caught up in thoughts of her life when she lived in LA.
It wasn't long before Khasinea joined her on the porch, bringing her a plate of eggs and toast. "Thank you, Alex" Irina said as she set down the paper.
They ate in silence until Sark joined them. "I do love the United States," Sark said. "I hope that I get to spend more time here than I did last time."
"There's no doubt about that, dear boy," Irina said.
Sark sat down on the porch facing Irina and Khasinea. "If you don't mind, can I ask just exactly what it is we're doing here?" Sark asked casually.
Irina had finished her breakfast and set the plate on a small table between her and Khasinea. "You mean why did I let Sydney go? That's what you really want to know, isn't it?"
Khasinea and Sark looked at each other. Sark looked at Irina, "Yes, that is at the heart of the matter, I'd say."
"There are several reasons. First of all, it was too messy. I had no desire to get three more people involved in this."
Again Sark and Khasinea looked at each other. Knowing that Khasinea would not say anything, Sark said, "They were already involved. We've been trying to expose Bristow for several years now. Tippin's usefulness has been exhausted. And Vaughn is insignificant. No one would miss him."
"They would be unnecessary complications - unpredictable elements."
"Irina, are you trying to convince us or yourself?" Khasinea asked. "You've never hesitated to eliminate such complications in the past." Irina glared at Khasinea, but he continued, "I'm afraid you are too close to this to see . . ."
Irina stood up abruptly and Khasinea stopped talking. She walked to the edge of the porch, standing over Sark with her back to Khasinea. "I can tell that you have been giving this some thought, Alex. And exactly who do you think I'm too close to? Jack or Sydney?" Irina spun around to face Khasinea.
Khasinea considered her question. "I'm certain you are too close to Jack Bristow, otherwise you would have killed him 25 years ago when I gave you the order. And your daughter? I think that no matter what you say -- to yourself or to us --you would do most anything to protect her."
Anger flickered in her eyes, but Irina maintained her outward calm, "Mmmm, that is a very interesting analysis, but there are two flaws in it. First, while most women would feel the things that you describe, I am not most women. And secondly, you do not have the big picture of Rambaldi's vision.
"When we traded Tippin for the page, we thought the page held the missing piece. When putting the page in relation to all of his work, it became obvious that we are farther away from the solution than we thought."
Irina paused to give both men a reproachful glare. "There must be at least three other pieces within his works that we do not have. But I'm certain that Sydney can lead us to one of them."
"That takes us back to my initial question: why did we let her leave Taipei?" Sark asked.
"As you recall, that first day after we got possession of the page, we were pretty busy caring for Sydney," Irina said.
"Ah, yes," Sark said as if he were fondly recalling a memory. "One of my favorite assignments."
Irina smiled at Sark and patted him on the head. "The page had a sketch of a necklace. An unusual necklace that could be separated and made into two necklaces." Irina paused and pulled a chain from under her blouse. "I have one part of that necklace. Sydney has the other."
Khasinea stood up to get a better look. He had never seen Irina wear it before. It was definitely an antique. A thick, rope like chain held a gold medallion approximately two and a half inches in diameter. The center of the medallion had been cut out making it look like a miniature donut. Seven stones, all different colors, were set around the perimeter of the piece. On the back a series of numbers were engraved around the edge. The numbers were so small that they appeared to be an abstract design.
"Where did you get this?" Khasinea asked.
"I bought it many years ago at a flea market. When I bought it, it looked like nothing but costume jewelry, but after a good cleaning . . ." she looked down at the necklace. "I gave Sydney the companion piece."
Sark stood up. "So, by the time you realized this, Sydney's memory was too far gone."
"Yes," Irina said. "I sent our LA team to her house, and to Jack's house but they were unable to find it."
"But it is unlikely that she would remember it now," Khasinea observed.
"It is quite possible that with hypnosis she will remember the necklace and we can recover it." Khasinea looked at her skeptically. "She is the best chance we have at getting the necklace, and completing his work."