A Moment With Michael, Part 4
Author: Agent Pigtails
Distribution/Archive: Sure, just let me know where.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All of Alias belongs to J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot, ABC, etc. Although if anyone's offering Vaughn, I wouldn't mind...
A/N: Thank you to everyone for their feedback, it means so much to me! Anyway, here's the final part, enjoy. :-)
PART 4******
Sydney's POV
Thank goodness dad is here. While I desperately want to go rushing off after Michael, he has a level enough head to make sure that we have all our information correct before we take action. By viewing old satellite photos, and from what Weiss could remember about the compound, we narrowed the sight down to a few square miles. From there, we used inferred cameras that read body heat to locate the site. There are about four hundred people there, and Dad and Weiss are guessing that at least half of them are political prisoners. "So we don't really need to send in that big of a team," Dad explained. "With all the CIA agents that must still be there, once we start releasing them, we give them weapons and we have more people fighting on our side." It makes sense to me, but now that I know Michael is still alive, I don't want to take any chances with his safety. "I know, Dad, but the more people we have, the better. If it's really one guard for every single CIA agent there-" "Sydney, I know, but this is a very remote location. We can't just smuggle in a huge team of agents, Sark will know something is up. God knows who else may be there, we don't even really know who he is working with. If we just take in a small team, Sark won't know what hit him until it's too late." I unhappily nod my assent to the arrangements, and three days later, a 10 person team of agents depart from LAX.
Jack's POV
I can see Sydney's fear; she's never been good at hiding her feelings from me. As uncertain as this mission is, I have my own doubts, but after today, things will be settled, one way or another. Francie calls prior to our departure, and that cheers us up, especially after being assured that Ashleigh is doing fine. Ashleigh even makes her first attempt at using the phone, although after a minute of strange noises, Francie takes the phone back and laughingly tells us that Ashleigh attempted to eat the phone, and after finding its taste not to her liking, was angrily pounding it on the floor. "She has your spirit," I tell Sydney, who smiles and relaxes for a little while. Still, no one gets much sleep on the flight over, and I can see Sydney visibly tense as the plane touches down again, hours later. "Sydney, do you want to talk about it?" I hesitantly ask her. She shakes her head and sighs. "In a situation like this, what do you say, Dad? I just found out that my husband, who I thought was dead, in fact is not, and is prisoner of Sark, of all people, and now here we are, on a desperate mission to save him. I just feel like no matter how hard or far I run, I can't get away from SD-6. I can't shelter my family like I want to, and I worry to death with Ashleigh. I've been out of that life for so long, its like I just don't know how to deal with it anymore."
Sydney's POV
I never used to say so much to my father. Even as our relationship got better, after the SD-6 takedown, Michael was always my confidante, the one I turned to with my problems. But months apart have taken their toll, and I'm grateful just to speak my feelings out loud. My father gives me a look of quiet reassurance before speaking. "Sydney, I know I made my share of mistakes in raising you, but you still turned out incredible. You are one of the strongest people I know, and you're dealing with this fine. And all this is is a single mission, you're not becoming a spy again. You've been doing an wonderful job raising Ashleigh, and now you'll have Mike to help you." He smiles encouragingly at me. "Because I have no doubt that we are going home with your husband. If anyone can pull this mission off, you can, Sydney." "And having me along doesn't hurt, either," he adds, drawing out a laugh. Now I do feel better.
****************9 Hours Later******************
Michael's POV
Something is going on; I can see it in the eyes of the guards. They moved me rather unexpectedly a few hours ago, and as I stare out the windows of my new room, I see them pacing back and forth nervously. Sark strode past half and hour ago, angrily shouting orders, and looking unlike the composed, albeit evil, person he usually is. I jump as Sark suddenly strides up to my room and orders the guard to unlock the door. "Shackle him and prepare him for transport. After him, all the rest of the prisoners. I want them loaded on vans, and out of here tonight." "What is going on?" an infuriated voice demands, and Robert Granger, former head of SD-6, enters my room. "Sir, I received a report from an operative that several CIA agents were spotted exiting a private airport in a city less than 10 miles from here. No flight plans were filed, and the operative could find no further information on why the flight came in or what their purpose was. Aside from us, there is no activity in this area that would alert the CIA. Unless you think they're just vacationing here," he snorts derisively. Granger fixes him with an angry look. "I am your superior, and you will treat me with the respect I am due. And you better hope you're right about the CIA, because if this is a mistake, I am holding you personally responsible." Sark briefly nods before leaving the room, and Granger follows him. My head is spinning, and for the first time in over a year I feel a spark of hope.
Sydney's POV
After darkness falls our team cautiously creeps over the snow drifts toward the compound. My heart is pounding faster than it was on my first mission, and I nearly jump out of my skin when my father taps me on my shoulder and points. My earpiece crackles. "I think I see a caravan of trucks." The entire team squints toward the area, but it is too dark to make out more than vague outlines. My father digs ann inferred sensor out of his bag and turns it on. He frowns at the readout and motions for me to look at it. Nearly 300 people are on those transports. "Dad, it's them! They're moving the prisoners out." "Sydney, we have no idea who is in there. Our mission is to break into the compound." "Dad, why would 300 agents suddenly leave? I doubt they're running in fear from our little ten man team." "They could be going on one of their own missions," he mildly suggests. "At eleven thirty at night? Besides, that's way too many people to be a mission team." My father sighs, saying, "You do realize that if we take control of these trucks, and Mike isn't there, we'll have tipped them off too soon. We probably won't be able to get in the compound at all. And if it's agents, and not prisoners loaded on those vans, it'll be way too many for us to handle. That's suicide." "And if it is prisoners, we may have lost Mike for good." My father nods grimly. "Then let's do it."
Michael's POV
As we draw farther away from the compound, my hope fades. I'm crammed in the back of the bus with nearly 60 other prisoners, uncomfortable. Our driver appears to have a rudimentary knowledge of stick shifts, and the bus lurches ahead tentatively, followed by a grinding of gears, then a whining stop. The driver curses, manages to get the bus started again, but has only gotten up to full speed when the bus comes to a jarring halt. Shouting and groans fill the room as everyone is thrown off their seats into windows, the floor,veach other. I hear gun fire in the distance and am straining to make out something from my window when I hear a voice by the back door. "Van 4, are you clear as well? Good, I'm just verifying my cargo, we'll be proceeding to the rendezvous point immediately following." With that, the door creaks open and I see a face I have dreamed of so many times. The face that kept me going for the last year and a half. Sydney.
Sydney's POV
I wanted to take him into my arms, promise him everything was okay, and just stay in his arms forever. But since his hands were shackled together, and we were within 5 minutes of the compound, I had to settle for a quick kiss before loading him in up front with me and driving off. As I drive, I can see him out of the corner of my eye, just staring. After so much time apart, so many words unsaid, I don't know where to start. Once we get to the safe house and get the shackles off everyone, Michael gently pulls me outside. Its a moonlit night, the sky twinkling with diamonds. In Michael's arms I feel safe and loved, but guilt prods me. If only I had known sooner, before all the torture Michael went through. "Michael, I'm so sorry-I just, I should have looked closer, I should have known you were out there somewhere. I - and then they tortured you -I'm so sorry-" I start, tears blurring my vision, but he gently stops me. "Sydney, you have nothing to be sorry for. You had no way of knowing, so please don't feel guilty for it. And yes, they tortured me for a few months. But this moment, standing here with you in my arms, my wife, the mother of my child... I could stand a lifetime of torture knowing I would see you again, knowing I will always have this moment. You're worth it." What did I do to deserve a man like this?
Six Months Later
Going home was an incredible experience. The old things fell back into place, old routines. The changes were even better. Introducing Ashleigh to the father she never knew, and just making up for a year and a half of lost time. Michael finally got his promotion, so I can relax knowing he's not in the field anymore. Ashleigh immediately fell in love with her daddy, and Michael dotes on her so much. His wallet is already full to bursting with pictures. After all those months of torture, I would have expected Michael to be plagued by nightmares, but he still sleeps as peacefully as ever. One night I asked him about it, and he smiled before replying. "Sydney, the true torture was not the electroshock or the thumbscrews or the needles. Torture was thinking I would never see my daughter, never hold you in my arms, smell your sweet scent. So how could I ever have a nightmare, knowing you are next to me, that when I wake up I can hold you in my arms?" Holding him, I knew he was right in so many ways. I would go through all the grief and pain and sorrow again if I knew I would end up here, in his arms. For just a moment with Michael.
THE END
Author: Agent Pigtails
Distribution/Archive: Sure, just let me know where.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: All of Alias belongs to J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot, ABC, etc. Although if anyone's offering Vaughn, I wouldn't mind...
A/N: Thank you to everyone for their feedback, it means so much to me! Anyway, here's the final part, enjoy. :-)
PART 4******
Sydney's POV
Thank goodness dad is here. While I desperately want to go rushing off after Michael, he has a level enough head to make sure that we have all our information correct before we take action. By viewing old satellite photos, and from what Weiss could remember about the compound, we narrowed the sight down to a few square miles. From there, we used inferred cameras that read body heat to locate the site. There are about four hundred people there, and Dad and Weiss are guessing that at least half of them are political prisoners. "So we don't really need to send in that big of a team," Dad explained. "With all the CIA agents that must still be there, once we start releasing them, we give them weapons and we have more people fighting on our side." It makes sense to me, but now that I know Michael is still alive, I don't want to take any chances with his safety. "I know, Dad, but the more people we have, the better. If it's really one guard for every single CIA agent there-" "Sydney, I know, but this is a very remote location. We can't just smuggle in a huge team of agents, Sark will know something is up. God knows who else may be there, we don't even really know who he is working with. If we just take in a small team, Sark won't know what hit him until it's too late." I unhappily nod my assent to the arrangements, and three days later, a 10 person team of agents depart from LAX.
Jack's POV
I can see Sydney's fear; she's never been good at hiding her feelings from me. As uncertain as this mission is, I have my own doubts, but after today, things will be settled, one way or another. Francie calls prior to our departure, and that cheers us up, especially after being assured that Ashleigh is doing fine. Ashleigh even makes her first attempt at using the phone, although after a minute of strange noises, Francie takes the phone back and laughingly tells us that Ashleigh attempted to eat the phone, and after finding its taste not to her liking, was angrily pounding it on the floor. "She has your spirit," I tell Sydney, who smiles and relaxes for a little while. Still, no one gets much sleep on the flight over, and I can see Sydney visibly tense as the plane touches down again, hours later. "Sydney, do you want to talk about it?" I hesitantly ask her. She shakes her head and sighs. "In a situation like this, what do you say, Dad? I just found out that my husband, who I thought was dead, in fact is not, and is prisoner of Sark, of all people, and now here we are, on a desperate mission to save him. I just feel like no matter how hard or far I run, I can't get away from SD-6. I can't shelter my family like I want to, and I worry to death with Ashleigh. I've been out of that life for so long, its like I just don't know how to deal with it anymore."
Sydney's POV
I never used to say so much to my father. Even as our relationship got better, after the SD-6 takedown, Michael was always my confidante, the one I turned to with my problems. But months apart have taken their toll, and I'm grateful just to speak my feelings out loud. My father gives me a look of quiet reassurance before speaking. "Sydney, I know I made my share of mistakes in raising you, but you still turned out incredible. You are one of the strongest people I know, and you're dealing with this fine. And all this is is a single mission, you're not becoming a spy again. You've been doing an wonderful job raising Ashleigh, and now you'll have Mike to help you." He smiles encouragingly at me. "Because I have no doubt that we are going home with your husband. If anyone can pull this mission off, you can, Sydney." "And having me along doesn't hurt, either," he adds, drawing out a laugh. Now I do feel better.
****************9 Hours Later******************
Michael's POV
Something is going on; I can see it in the eyes of the guards. They moved me rather unexpectedly a few hours ago, and as I stare out the windows of my new room, I see them pacing back and forth nervously. Sark strode past half and hour ago, angrily shouting orders, and looking unlike the composed, albeit evil, person he usually is. I jump as Sark suddenly strides up to my room and orders the guard to unlock the door. "Shackle him and prepare him for transport. After him, all the rest of the prisoners. I want them loaded on vans, and out of here tonight." "What is going on?" an infuriated voice demands, and Robert Granger, former head of SD-6, enters my room. "Sir, I received a report from an operative that several CIA agents were spotted exiting a private airport in a city less than 10 miles from here. No flight plans were filed, and the operative could find no further information on why the flight came in or what their purpose was. Aside from us, there is no activity in this area that would alert the CIA. Unless you think they're just vacationing here," he snorts derisively. Granger fixes him with an angry look. "I am your superior, and you will treat me with the respect I am due. And you better hope you're right about the CIA, because if this is a mistake, I am holding you personally responsible." Sark briefly nods before leaving the room, and Granger follows him. My head is spinning, and for the first time in over a year I feel a spark of hope.
Sydney's POV
After darkness falls our team cautiously creeps over the snow drifts toward the compound. My heart is pounding faster than it was on my first mission, and I nearly jump out of my skin when my father taps me on my shoulder and points. My earpiece crackles. "I think I see a caravan of trucks." The entire team squints toward the area, but it is too dark to make out more than vague outlines. My father digs ann inferred sensor out of his bag and turns it on. He frowns at the readout and motions for me to look at it. Nearly 300 people are on those transports. "Dad, it's them! They're moving the prisoners out." "Sydney, we have no idea who is in there. Our mission is to break into the compound." "Dad, why would 300 agents suddenly leave? I doubt they're running in fear from our little ten man team." "They could be going on one of their own missions," he mildly suggests. "At eleven thirty at night? Besides, that's way too many people to be a mission team." My father sighs, saying, "You do realize that if we take control of these trucks, and Mike isn't there, we'll have tipped them off too soon. We probably won't be able to get in the compound at all. And if it's agents, and not prisoners loaded on those vans, it'll be way too many for us to handle. That's suicide." "And if it is prisoners, we may have lost Mike for good." My father nods grimly. "Then let's do it."
Michael's POV
As we draw farther away from the compound, my hope fades. I'm crammed in the back of the bus with nearly 60 other prisoners, uncomfortable. Our driver appears to have a rudimentary knowledge of stick shifts, and the bus lurches ahead tentatively, followed by a grinding of gears, then a whining stop. The driver curses, manages to get the bus started again, but has only gotten up to full speed when the bus comes to a jarring halt. Shouting and groans fill the room as everyone is thrown off their seats into windows, the floor,veach other. I hear gun fire in the distance and am straining to make out something from my window when I hear a voice by the back door. "Van 4, are you clear as well? Good, I'm just verifying my cargo, we'll be proceeding to the rendezvous point immediately following." With that, the door creaks open and I see a face I have dreamed of so many times. The face that kept me going for the last year and a half. Sydney.
Sydney's POV
I wanted to take him into my arms, promise him everything was okay, and just stay in his arms forever. But since his hands were shackled together, and we were within 5 minutes of the compound, I had to settle for a quick kiss before loading him in up front with me and driving off. As I drive, I can see him out of the corner of my eye, just staring. After so much time apart, so many words unsaid, I don't know where to start. Once we get to the safe house and get the shackles off everyone, Michael gently pulls me outside. Its a moonlit night, the sky twinkling with diamonds. In Michael's arms I feel safe and loved, but guilt prods me. If only I had known sooner, before all the torture Michael went through. "Michael, I'm so sorry-I just, I should have looked closer, I should have known you were out there somewhere. I - and then they tortured you -I'm so sorry-" I start, tears blurring my vision, but he gently stops me. "Sydney, you have nothing to be sorry for. You had no way of knowing, so please don't feel guilty for it. And yes, they tortured me for a few months. But this moment, standing here with you in my arms, my wife, the mother of my child... I could stand a lifetime of torture knowing I would see you again, knowing I will always have this moment. You're worth it." What did I do to deserve a man like this?
Six Months Later
Going home was an incredible experience. The old things fell back into place, old routines. The changes were even better. Introducing Ashleigh to the father she never knew, and just making up for a year and a half of lost time. Michael finally got his promotion, so I can relax knowing he's not in the field anymore. Ashleigh immediately fell in love with her daddy, and Michael dotes on her so much. His wallet is already full to bursting with pictures. After all those months of torture, I would have expected Michael to be plagued by nightmares, but he still sleeps as peacefully as ever. One night I asked him about it, and he smiled before replying. "Sydney, the true torture was not the electroshock or the thumbscrews or the needles. Torture was thinking I would never see my daughter, never hold you in my arms, smell your sweet scent. So how could I ever have a nightmare, knowing you are next to me, that when I wake up I can hold you in my arms?" Holding him, I knew he was right in so many ways. I would go through all the grief and pain and sorrow again if I knew I would end up here, in his arms. For just a moment with Michael.
THE END