Title: "Recoil"
Author: Waterdancer aka AquarianLady
Email: jch114@hotmail.com
Website: none at this time.
Feedback: YES YES YES
Distribution: CD ALL DAY. Anyone else please ask.
Disclaimer: Anything Alias related (Vaughn, Devlin, SD-4,SD-6, Weiss, Donovan the dog) are all the property of ABC and Touchstone Pictures. It is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions. Diana Rochelle is mine. Marie and Brendan Devlin are mine.
Summary: A woman from Vaughn's past comes back.
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Classification: Action/Adventure, Drama, and a dash of Romance.
A/N: Special thanks to the AIM gang, Robin for the fantastic beta, and Thorne for telling me that you like what I write, that means a lot.
***
Diana averted her eyes from Vaughn. "I don't know what you're talking about."
He walked over and touched her arm. "Devlin and Haladki may not have picked up on it, but I did. Your voice changed when he mentioned Patrick."
Looking up into his eyes, she saw the pain that her actions caused all those years ago, and the unspoken question about a relationship she and Patrick never had. "Patrick and I were never together like that. He was my friend and mentor. That's all." She felt his body relax as he let a slow breath leave his body.
"Then tell me what's going on? It's not like you not to give a full report, and while I enjoyed you ripping into Haladki, he did ask some worthwhile questions. What happened in Barcelona?"
"It's hard for me to explain." She sighed, wishing she could find the words to explain the gut feeling she was having. "When I was in training, I was taught to pay attention to everything, to notice the slightest difference in anything—that's where the answer laid. When I arrived there, the door was already open." Struggling to breathe, she reminded herself that she was a professional, and there was only the hint of catch in her voice when she said, "And I found them dead. Hands tied behind them, gunshots to the head. Eight highly trained agents. I don't understand it." She shook her head. "The whole area seemed surreal. Then, Patrick came in, the only one had been beaten. Daniel, Marisa, all the others' deaths had been quick. Patrick was the only one who suffered," she said, turning to face him.
"He was the team leader. Maybe SD-4 thought he had the disk," he offered.
"No." She shook her head. "That's not it. There was something off about that whole thing, and I can't figure it out. I didn't tell Haladki because, frankly, I don't understand it myself, and he's a dick. That's the truth."
A small smirk played on his lips, "That Haladki's a dick? Or that you don't understand what happened?"
She chuckled. "Both. I just wish I could figure out what struck me as odd about the whole thing. I feel like it's looking me right in my face. Only I can't see it." She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She could feel him leaning closer. He didn't have to say a word; his presence was enough. "Michael," she murmured.
"Yes?"
She opened her eyes and found herself looking into his green eyes. She wanted to tell him how many times she had regretted leaving, but instead she just smiled weakly at him. "What am I going to do about this? The CIA is going to want answers, and I have none to offer them."
"Don't worry about that right now. You've been through hell these last few days. You need to rest, get your head back on straight." He rubbed her cheek. "It's good to see you. I mean that."
She resisted the urge to tilt her head to fit the palm of his hand. She had always responded that way before, which had always led to a kiss, which she knew couldn't, shouldn't, happen now.
"It's good to see you, too," she said quietly. Hug him, the small voice in her head whispered.
She cleared her throat and moved away from him. "There should be some agents here soon to take me back to the safe house. I'll contact Devlin when I figure out what's going on." She walked over to the table and grabbed her jacket.
"Diana, wait a minute," Vaughn said. "Stay with me."
She looked at him. "That's not exactly a good idea."
"What would be a better place? You concentrate better without distraction. At my house there's just Donovan, and there isn't someone constantly watching you through a two-way mirror. It's private, and you'll be safe there."
"I wouldn't be safe with the Agency?" she asked in a teasing voice.
Diana watched Vaughn as he tried to tell her why he wanted her to stay at his house. He looked down at his hands nervously, and a hint of a blush marked his cheeks. "That's not what I'm saying. It's just that—"
The door opened behind him, and Weiss poked in his head. "Vaughn, we just received a message from Sydney. She wants to discuss what happened in Chile."
Vaughn looked at Diana and said, "I have to go and take care of this."
Diana nodded. "You're her handler; she told me."
Vaughn looked startled, but he didn't say anything else about Sydney. He only asked, "Will you think about it at least?"
"Yes, I'll think about it."
Vaughn studied her again. "Good. I'll see you later."
****
"Here's the disk that SD-6 was after," Sydney said, handing it to Vaughn.
He placed it inside his jacket pocket. "Thank you, Sydney. I know that helping Diana wasn't easy; it put the both of you in danger. It meant a lot to me that you were able to do it."
"You're welcome, Vaughn," she said as she leaned against the fence.
"Where there any problems in Chile? Getting her the extraction information?" Vaughn hated to admit how out of the loop he was. Devlin had kept Diana's report away from him, and Sydney had not yet been debriefed. Jack had told them that Sloane had sent Sydney and Dixon on a wild goose chase looking for Diana.
Sydney bit her lip. "She didn't trust me initially, which is to be expected, and there was also an informant within the estate's employees."
"An informant?" Vaughn asked, leaning forward. "What happened?"
"Someone on the estate had heard we were looking for her, and he was willing to give her up for a price. After I passed her the information, I told Dixon that we couldn't find her, but then he told me that someone had already located her and was waiting on us to come to pick her up."
He sat back and motioned for Sydney to continue. "By the time we arrived at her room, she was gone. The informant had been injured: his arm had been cut badly, and he was unconscious. When he came to, he said that she had message for SD-6: she'd be waiting." Vaughn sighed. That sounded like Diana. Taunt the enemy. "Sloane was furious that she had gotten away. He seemed to be more upset about her than about the missing intel. He said that she needs to be dealt with and that he had sent Security Section out to look for her. If you talk to her, Vaughn, tell her to be careful."
"I've already talked to her," he replied, straightening out his tie. "And I'll be sure to relay what you've just told me the next time I see her."
Her eyebrow raised. "You'll be seeing her again? The CIA hasn't set her up with a new identity, yet?"
Vaughn felt himself becoming flustered. He wondered why. "The CIA has some questions for her about what happened in Barcelona. Besides Diana is a lot like you; she wants to take care of herself. She's also stated that there was something wrong with how she found the team, and she's trying to figure it out."
"Oh," Sydney said as she stood up to leave the cage.
"What?" he asked walking over to open the gate for her.
"Nothing. It just seems odd having to share your focus with someone else," she teased. He thought he heard a note of jealousy in her voice. Then, he asked himself if he wanted to hear jealousy.
"She's just someone who needs help, and I'm trying to be there for her," he said defensively.
"I'm not questioning your methods, Vaughn," she replied, averting her eyes. "I just want you to be careful."
"Careful about what? She's not up to anything," he said as she walked out the cage in front of him.
Sydney turned to face him and said, "Remember that SD-6 is still after her. Be careful, Vaughn." She turned on her heels and left.
*****
"So, how have you been?" Diana asked Weiss as they walked down to the garage.
"I've been doing good. Found the love of my life."
"Again? Eric, the last time we saw each other you had found the love of your life. What was her name? Bunny? Wasn't she an exotic dancer?" Diana asked, smiling.
"Her name was Barbara and she was a showgirl in Vegas. She was doing that to get through grad school!" he exclaimed smiling broadly as they walked through the garage.
"Right," she said. "Grad school. So, what's the new love of your life's name? Trixie?"
He chuckled softly, "No, her name is Angie, and she's a paralegal downtown. She's amazing. She had been trying to fix Michael up with one of her friends before you contacted him"
"He should still let her fix him up," Diana said waving at the two agents waiting by the SUV to take her to the safe house.
"No, I don't think he'd go for that right now," Weiss replied, stopping a few feet before the SUV.
"What are you talking about, Eric?" Diana asked, turning to face him.
"He's happy that you're here, Diana," he said without the trademark wit that she had become used to hearing when talking with him.
Her heart stopped. She had picked up on the way Vaughn had looked at her, but she had hoped it was her imagination. "I'm not exactly here on great terms. I'm on the run."
Weiss shook his head. "It doesn't matter; you're here. You could have come in with the entire Alliance on your ass, and he'd still be happy to see you."
"I should be the last person he'd want to see, Eric, and you know that. How I left—," she sighed, "I wouldn't want to see me."
He took her hands in his and said, "He wanted to see you, trust me. I've been his friend for years. When he told me that you had been in contact with him--he was barely containing himself. He's never been subtle, you know that."
"Yes, I do remember," she said. It was one of the many things that she had loved about him. How he wore his heart on his sleeve, even when he knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do. "He asked me to stay with him while I figure this whole thing out."
Weiss looked at her with surprise. " Are you going to?"
"I don't think it's a good idea, Eric. It might be easier for SD-6 to find me there. Not to mention Devlin wouldn't approve," she said. She looked at Weiss, who was smiling at her. "What's so amusing?"
"You're making excuses because you, Diana Rochelle, are afraid. Just go." He motioned for one of the agents to come over. "Could you take Agent Rochelle to Vaughn's house and stay there until he arrives?" He handed the man a set of keys on a key ring, telling him which key to use for which lock.
"Eric!" Diana protested. "You're crazy! There is no way that I'm going over there."
"There really isn't much you could do, Agent Rochelle. You're going to Vaughn's house." He gently pushed her towards the SUV. "And for the record, Diana, you aren't subtle either."
***
"Are you sure that you'll be okay here?" the agent asked as he walked through the backdoor of Vaughn's house
"I'm sure I'll be fine," she replied, following him in and placing her bag on the floor. She took in the surroundings as she looked around. His hockey equipment was sitting by the door. Good to know he still plays. There was also a dog dish by the table in the kitchen nook. She smiled as she thought of the dog that she and Michael had bought together.
"If you need anything, we'll be outside," the dark haired man said, walking back outside. She picked up her bag and went into the living room. Lining the walls were pictures from his past. Him and his mother in front of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, and a picture of Weiss and Vaughn at Lake Tahoe.
She placed her bag on the floor next to the couch and continued her self-tour of his house. The living room that had once been filled with souvenirs from their trips together--the pictures of the Aztec temple, the conch shells from the Caribbean were gone. It was now devoid of the warmth that once had welcomed her after a hard day after work. There were files that covered the mosaic tile on the coffee table. There was a time that he would never bring work home. The answering machine used to always beep, full of messages. Now a red zero stared at her.
The indention in the wall was still there, left there when she and Vaughn had tried to move the refrigerator that had decided to break down on the hottest day in July. She stopped and ran her hand over the arch in the hallway. They had been leaning against it, kissing, the first time he told her that he loved her. All the memories of their time together started to crash down on her.
"Shit," she said to no one in particular. "You've really messed this up, Rochelle." She stopped at his partially closed bedroom door. Part of her wanted to go in, to explore the intimate part of Vaughn's life but the other part of her was afraid to go in—scared of what other memories would come back to her.
Taking in a deep breath, she reached over and pushed the door open. "Donnie!" she exclaimed as she walked into Vaughn's room. The dog that she and Vaughn had picked out five years earlier stood up from his corner of the room and started to wag his tail. She couldn't help the instant smile that came to her face as she looked down at the dog. "How are you, honey?"
She looked around the bedroom. The tan on the walls that they had picked out five years before had been replaced by a richer navy blue color. The hard wood floor was now polished and everything she had had a hand in picking out was now gone. The old metal bed frame--found at a garage sale--had been replaced by a sturdier mahogany frame.
Walking over to the closet, she opened it. She looked over his dark suits and oxford shirts. He always looked great in a blue oxford. She glanced at the shelves and a box caught her eye. She reached up and pulled it down. "Diana" was written across the top in bold letters.
She sat on the floor, near the bed, and Donovan walked over to sit next to her. "Should we see what's in this box, Donnie?" she asked the dog, who responded by yawning, as if to say "I don't care; you're going to open it anyway."
Opening the box, her eyes widened in surprise. On top was a picture of her and Vaughn in Colorado attempting to ski. She laughed quietly as she remembered the ski "expert" trying to show her how to stop. He's better on hockey skates. She dug deeper in the box, until her hand hit the bottom. She felt around and touched a small box. Confused, she pulled it out. Opening it, she found inside an antique ring. Tears stung her eyes as the memory of that ring came back to her.
"You should ask before you start searching through things," Vaughn said from the doorway.