Tangled Lies

by Tayce Skye

* * *

Rating: PG-13 for language and... uh, "violence".

Spoilers: All of Season 1 and maybe the first episode or two of Season 2 (based on info from spoiler sites).

Summary: Post ATY. Will be AU after Season 2 starts. My version of what might happen in (and after) Taipei. Last time on "Tangled Lies"... Vaughn meets and keeps his cousin, Katrina. Will sees Francie in a heated conversation with a strange, white-haired man. 'The Cat' turns out to be... Irina?

Pairings: Tyler/Katrina kinda. Sark/Katrina kinda. Sydney/Vaughn kinda.

Distribution: Sure, but don't forget to email me first at teague1350@hotmail.com. I'd also appreciate a link.

Disclaimer: I own this story along with Katrina Hunt. Alias is not mine. It belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot, ABC, etc. Catcher in the Rye isn't mine either. No copyright infringement was intended.

* * * * *

"What did you say?" Dixon asked. Unknown to him, his partner was in a state of shock, but quickly recovered.

"Oh, nothing." She tried to sound nonchalant as Irina Derevko walked slowly towards the Rambaldi display.

Sydney took off the earpiece and turned the purse/video camera away from her mother. Using two fingers, she discreetly gestured to Vaughn and the others. They swarmed in, suddenly and silently.

In an instant, it was all over. Irina was finally in CIA custody and the Rambaldi sketch was safe.

* * *

As Michael handcuffed Sydney's mother, he felt a wave of nausea. Yet the moment was oddly anticlimactic, as if arresting your dad's murderer was an everyday occurrence.

The team stealthily made their way to a black van hidden in the alleyway. One of his colleagues, Agent Wilcox, congratulated Michael with a friendly pat on the back.

He should have been surprised or angry or joyful at the capture of 'The Man'. Instead, his mind was numb. No feelings or thoughts at all. What the hell was wrong with him?

* * *

Katrina slouched on the sofa, staring blankly at the television screen. A corny soap opera was on. Her left hand stroked Donovan's short fur while the right one was half buried in a bowl of popcorn.

She had already planted the bugs, snooped through the drawers, and recorded Michael's schedule. Now, there was nothing to do except sit back and relax. Of course, Katrina wasn't exactly sure what "normal" people did in their free time.

Daytime TV was obviously rotting her brain. She really needed to get out. Maybe Donovan wanted to go for a walk. The bulldog looked lazily back at her. Nah.

The teen hadn't changed yet, still sporting an oversized white shirt with plaid pajama bottoms. Grabbing another donut, eighth one today, she threw on some clothes and emerged from her bedroom with low cut jeans and a gray tank top. Time to spend some money.

After losing the agents tailing her, Katrina hot-wired a car (belonging to Old Lady Worthington of B-14, Queen of Felines) and drove to a quaint little used-book store. She had cash to squander. Forty million dollars (in offshore accounts), to be exact. No one, not even Irina, knew about her funds so she had to be very careful with her spending.

* * *

Tyler Blumberg read through Catcher in the Rye for the fourth time this year. A really pissed-off girl interrupted him. An extremely attractive, really pissed-off girl.

"Excuse me, I've been waiting for about half a decade already. Would you like to assist me anytime soon? Or are you just going to sit there and gawk?" she asked. Tyler mentally thanked his Uncle Eric for teaching him the art of once-overs as he took in all five-foot-three of her.

She had dark, almost black hair. It was pulled into a loose, spiky bun at the nape of her neck. A few wispy strands looped around her ears, threatening to escape.

The girl was thin, but had curves in all the right places. Her skin was golden, though not from laying out in the sun. She had large, almond-shaped eyes that were a dazzling green. Or was it silvery gray? Wait...

"Will you snap out of it? All I want is a simple little book."

His brain suddenly clicked on. "Hi. I'm Tyler. How can I help you?" Real smooth, dumb-ass.

"Were you not listening to the rest of my rant? Book. Me. Want."

"Oh, sorry about that. Guess I'm kinda out of it today. Listen, I'm free in about ten minutes. Could I buy you a sundae?" Her face softened at the mention of free deserts.

"Definitely!"

* * *

Sloane waited for her explanation.

"I'm really sorry. She came from nowhere, yanked out my earpiece, and broke the video camera." Sydney held up the demolished purse with wires sticking out haphazardly. In reality, a pair of black pumps caused the destruction.

"Whoever it was knocked me out and, by the time I came to, got away with the sketch. Again, I'm really sorry," she lied.

The head of SD-6 sighed. "Did you see any distinguishing physical features?"

"No. It all happened so fast." Sydney gingerly touched an angry-looking bruise on her forehead. It wasn't real, of course. Just makeup. Sloane seemed convinced and dismissed her and Dixon, who looked guilt-wracked.

"Syd, I'm sorry. I should have been there," he said. An uncomfortable feeling began building up in her stomach.

"Don' t worry about it. There was nothing anyone could have done. Even I was surprised." At least the last part wasn't a lie.

* * *

A black SUV was parked across the street from an ice cream shop. David Sark adjusted the mirror. He had come to Los Angeles to tell Katrina that her mission was over. That their employer was MIA and they could finally do what they've always wanted.

Instead he was watching her as she talked excitedly with another man.

The man leaned over and caught Katrina's lips in a kiss. David looked away immediately, feeling ill. He drove off without another glance back, just missing the scene his lover was making.

* * *

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled as Tyler lay sprawled on the ground. He was holding his bloody nose, dumfounded.

"You punched me!"

"Nice deduction skills, Sherlock. Now would you like to explain what your tongue was doing in my mouth?" Katrina's nostrils flared as she looked down at him with repulsion.

"Christ! I'm sorry! I didn't know you were going to sock me in the nose!" He got up. "I swear, I thought you wanted me to. Weren't you, ya know, flirting with me?"

"In your dreams, Book Boy." Tyler winced. "Oh jeez, that was a bit too harsh, huh? Look, maybe I overreacted. It's just, I'm involved with someone else. Now would you stop acting like a six-year-old girl and suck it up? It's not bleeding that badly!"

* * *

Tyler:

I am not a sex-crazed pig. Really. Sure, you could say all male college students are Neanderthals and, yeah, majority of the time it's true. But I'm a genuinely nice guy. It's just this crazy girl who's making my head spin.

My type is not... her. It's the opposite of... her. The last eight girlfriends I've had were:

1) Tall

2) Blonde

3) Sweet

Katrina is none of those things. She is short and sarcastic. Her hair is a dark, dark brown and looks like it has reddish streaks in the sun. Not my type at all. Hell, she's a nightmare! Blunt, unavailable, and suffers from a bad case of permanent PMS.

So why am I falling for her? And since when do I pay that much attention to someone's hair color?

* * *

Vaughn shifted on his crate. "Devlin doesn't even want us to talk to Irina. The problem is, the CIA has questions and she won't answer."

"I don't want to see her. You know why," Sydney said hoarsely.

"Yeah, I know exactly why. But the Agency is having some difficulty understanding. I can't force you to do this, but Devlin can. Syd, I really sorry."

"How do you feel about this, Vaughn? About her? I mean, the things Irina's done..." She shook her head in disgust.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure what to feel. We've got her and that's about as much as I can ask for without, uh, assault and battery charges."

"I feel like pounding her myself." Her face darkened at an abrupt realization. "Oh, god. What if they make Dad talk to her? He hasn't seen her since... the day she left us." Sydney contemplated the situation as her handler watched with concern.

"Okay. Tell Devlin I'll do it. But I'm not going to exchange pleasantries. This is for my dad and no one else."

"I--you are... an incredible person, you know that? This is far beyond your call of duty. I could come... if you need me. For emotional support." Sydney's vision began to blur as he presented his offer. One tear made its way down a pale cheek.

"Thank--thank you so much, Vaughn. Thank you for everything. I couldn't make you face her, though. It wouldn't be right. I'll be okay by myself. Don't worry." She hoped those words wouldn't be her last.

* * * * *

Author's Note: Next chapter, sweet dreams... or are they?

Questions, comments, suggestions, speculation, constructive criticism... I'll take what I can get. I really appreciate all the feedback! Sweetie--I get my info from the Vartan Hos.

I am forever indebted to my fantastic beta reader, Shelly. Thank you for all your advice.

Also, a shout-out to Jannah. We finally managed to exchange emails before I posted a chapter!