Author: Waterdancer aka AquarianLady
Email: jch114@hotmail.com
Website: None at this time
Feedback: Yes.
Distribution: Cover Me, and alias fanfiction list. Anyone else, please ask me.
Disclaimer: Um. If I owned any part of Alias, you'd know it. All Alias related material are the property of JJ Abrams, Bad Robot, ABC, Touchstone TV, and anyone else who has a claim. Diana Rochelle, Nikolai Ludin are mine.
Summary: A woman from Vaughn's past comes back.
Rating: PG-13
Classification: Action/Adventure, General, dash of romance.
A/N are at the end.
*****
Diana walked quietly next to Agent Lareby through the hospital parking garage. She fought back bitter tears as the distrust on Michael's face came to mind. As much as she hated to admit it, it did hurt that he didn't trust her. I need to get out of here. Sort this out.
"Agent Lareby," she said as she got into the back seat of the dark-blue SUV, "have you ever lost trust in someone you cared about?"
"What do you mean, Agent Rochelle?" he asked, getting into the front seat.
"Please call me 'Diana'," she answered. "'Agent Rochelle' just seems too formal right now."
"Okay, Diana," he replied, smiling slightly. "What do you mean?"
"Well, have you ever lost trust in someone? Wife? Girlfriend?"
"No, but I've had people lose their trust in me," he offered, starting the truck up.
Diana knew that by the amused look he gave her that she must've had an expression of shock on her face. "You don't strike me as the untrustworthy type, Agent Lareby."
"I was a bit of a wild child in college," he said, chuckling.
She looked at the closely cut blonde hair and the dark suit. "Funny, but you don't strike me as such."
"You'd be surprised at what all that I've done," he said before carefully pulling out of the garage.
"I doubt it," she said, looking out of the tinted window. "How did you fix it?"
"It took a lot of time. When someone loses their trust in you, it isn't easily fixed," he answered causally.
"Even if it's a misunderstanding?" The logical side of her knew that Michael had every right not to trust her based on those pictures. But being caught by surprise had made her revert to her standard defense: "It's classified." She had no idea that those pictures existed.
"Is it, Diana?"
"Yes," she replied, thinking about the reality that those pictures didn't show. "It's a misunderstanding."
"Then Agent Vaughn shouldn't have a hard time realizing that. He can't be that stubborn."
Diana looked up and met Agent Lareby's gaze in the rearview mirror. "What makes you think I'm talking about Agent Vaughn?"
"I-I'm sorry if it was inappropriate, Diana. I just had noticed that you two were arguing, and I know that you guys were partners a while back," he answered, glancing at her nervously, as if he expected her to lash out.
"Don't worry about it," she said, holding her hand up. "It's okay. What's your name, by the way? You seem to know so much about me, but I don't even know your first name." Diana smirked slightly as she watched him let out a slow breath.
"Greg Lareby."
"Nice to meet you, Greg," she said, putting on her "trust me" smile. He returned it.
Diana sat back in the seat and watched the Los Angeles scenery pass her as they drove back to the safe house. When they stopped at a red light, she frowned as she realized that they were at the farmer's market where she and Vaughn had almost been killed. It had been more than a few years since she'd been in L.A., but Lareby seemed to be taking the longest route back to the safe house. Maybe he was avoiding traffic. "I wonder if Jacques is still at his stand," she thought to herself as she looked at Agent Lareby, and then glanced at the red light. She hoped there was enough time to implement her plan.
"Agent Lareby, would you consider yourself a forgiving person?" she asked as she moved from behind him to the seat beside him.
"Yeah, I guess I am. I feel like everyone deserves a second chance, given the right circumstances," he said as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.
"I hope you can give me a second chance," she said quietly as she readied herself.
He turned around to face her. "I'm sure that I—"
Catching him off guard, Diana hit him with an elbow strike, knocking him unconscious. She grabbed his head to keep him from hitting the steering wheel. Reaching inside his jacket, she took his gun and cell phone. "No need for you to call Vaughn right now," she murmured as she looked at the red light. She knew that she only had moments before it turned green. She unhooked her seatbelt and slid out of the seat.
"This man needs help!" she shouted, hoping that someone would come. Slowly people got out of their cars and came towards the dark SUV. Someone shouted, "I'm a doctor!" and the crowd split to let the woman through. Diana pushed through the crowd and rushed into the market area.
***
She watched from the alley as Jacques helped someone pick out some vegetables. "He's not going to like this," she mumbled, watching the customer walk away. Sheathing the gun in her waist, she adjusted the jacket she'd been wearing and darted across the walkway.
"Jacques!" she hissed as the older man started to close up his booth.
His eyes widened when he saw her. "What are you doing here, Diana? Where's Michael?"
"I need your help," she whispered, ignoring his questions. "I need a new passport."
"Does Michael know about this?" Jacques asked, his eyes narrowing. Diana could tell by his body language that she was in for a fight, but Jacques was the only one who could help her get out of Los Angeles. "Are you running again, Diana?" he queried, looking over her shoulder at the passing crowd.
"Jacques, please, I need your help. Michael thinks I'm working with the enemy and—"
"Are you?" he asked, cutting her off, and pulling down the final shutter on his booth. He put his jacket on and started to walk towards the parking lot.
Diana recoiled in shock and walked quickly to catch up with him. "I can't believe you'd think that of me."
"I don't, but that's what Michael is going to think when he finds out that you're leaving again. You can't keep running, Diana. It's going to catch up with you soon enough."
She grabbed his arm and stopped him. "Today, he could have been killed, and it would have been my fault, Jacques. I can't deal with that. Please," she said as he glared at her. "I need your help."
She started breathing again when his features softened. "Diana, I thought you weren't going to leave again."
"I don't want to leave, but if I don't now, someone could end up dead. Please," she pleaded with him, letting his arm go.
Jacques walked over to his car and opened the backdoor. "Come on and get in," he said, shaking his head.
"Thank you, Jacques," she said as she strolled towards him. She stood up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "I owe you." She got into the back seat and slid down.
*****
"Take your coat off and go get cleaned up," Jacques said, pointing towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. "I'll get things set up."
"Thanks again," she said, and started down the hallway.
He stopped and nodded slightly. "You're welcome, Diana."
As Diana walked down the hallway, she looked at the pictures on the wall. Finding a familiar photo, she smiled as she thought of the stories that he had told her about the time he and her father had spent in Vietnam. Tracing the outline of her father's face, she wondered what he would have told her to do in her current situation.
Sighing, she placed the gun on the hallway table, emptied the contents of her pocket, and walked down to the bathroom.
****
"Are you ready?" Jacques said from behind the digital camera.
Diana adjusted her position in her seat and smiled brightly. "Ready."
She kept her eyes steady as the bright flash went off. She blinked several times and stood up. "How did it come out?"
"It's fine," Jacques said as he removed the disk from the camera and sat down at his computer.
"What?" she asked as she shrugged on her jacket. "What's wrong?"
Jacques looked at her from behind the computer and sighed. "You need a new ID, and I'm helping you."
Crossing her arms, she walked over and sat down next to him. Glancing at the various hairstyles on the monitor, she pointed to the dark blonde version of her. "I want that one."
Looking at him from the corner of her eye, she asked, "Jacques, look--"
"This isn't a good idea, Diana. You leaving like this," he murmured as he clicked on the blonde picture of her.
"I thought you agreed to help me," she protested, pressing her mouth into a firm line.
"I did, but that doesn't mean I like it. What about Vaughn?"
Her heart cracked as Michael--her Michael--came to mind. Deciding that it wouldn't bother her, she turned back to the screen. "Michael can take care of himself, Jacques, you know that. He did fine before."
"Yes, Vaughn is a capable agent, and yes, he can take care of himself. But who's going to take care of you?" Jacques asked matter-of-factly.
"Jacques, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm fine. Green eyes, please," she said, pointing the eyes staring back at her.
"Diana, when you showed up at my booth, you were so happy about being with Michael. You need that normalcy in your life. You can't keep running." He clicked on the set of green eyes.
She sat back in the chair. "I have to if I want to keep the people I care about alive. I came back to help the CIA with that disk, and if today's events are any indication, I'm doing more harm than good. With me gone, at least they can go back to finding out who killed my team, and Michael will live to see retirement."
Jacques rubbed his eyes, and studied her. "It's not always about you, Diana. You need to stop and think about how your actions are affecting the people that care about you."
She stood up and glared at him. "I am thinking about the people in my life. If something happened to you or Michael because of the things that happened in--" she stopped herself and sighed. She would never tell anyone what she'd done in Russia. "If something happened to you or Michael because of me, I would never forgive myself."
Jacques clicked on the picture of her and walked over to the printer. "I'm capable of taking care of myself, Diana. Remember, I trained you before you were in the CIA."
"Yes, I remember," she said, her memories going back to the first time she met Jacques in New Orleans, years after her parents death.
He opened a small cabinet underneath the printer and pulled out a small amber bottle. "This is the hair color you'll need. You can find the contacts on the side of the medicine cabinet."
She silently took the bottle from his hand and turned towards the bathroom.
"Diana?" Jacques called out.
She stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Yeah?"
"I can't promise that Michael won't know that you were here."
She looked down at her feet and grinned. She'd thought he might tell Michael, and maybe she wanted to be found. Eventually. When everyone was safe. "Just give me a day head start, okay?"
She smiled as he nodded.
***
As Diana looked at herself in the mirror, she grinned. She was always amazed at how a simple hair color could change someone's appearance. She cleared her throat and tried her new 'accent'.
"Hello, I'm Elizabeth Alderman. I work for an advertising agency in London."
"Tone it down a bit, Diana," Jacques said from behind the closed bathroom door. "It sounds forced."
She cleared her throat and tried again.
"That's better," he said. "Are you almost ready?"
She ran a clear lip-gloss across her lips and straightened her top. She gingerly touched her face, and hoped that people wouldn't ask too many questions. "Yeah, I'll be out in a second," she answered.
Opening the door, she stepped out into the hallway. "Jacques?"
"Back here," he answered. "I'm putting the finishing touches on your passport. I had to airbrush your injuries out of the picture."
Walking into the room where she'd taken her new ID picture, she stood behind Jacques. "You are getting better and better at illegal activities," she said in a teasing voice.
"I learned from the best," Jacques said, getting in his own dig. He used his hand to flatten the laminated picture of her. He flipped through it, making sure the appropriate stamps where were they were supposed to be. "You're all set," he said as he handed the passport to her.
"Thank you," she said gratefully. She placed it in her jeans pocket. "Is there anything else?"
"You'll need to leave your gun here for obvious reasons. The less attention the better. I'm sure you have your own contacts so I won't direct you to talk to the people I know. Tell people that you were in a car accident if anyone asks about your injuries. I've doctored a report on you at the county hospital in case anyone checks. And there was one more thing--" Jacques started.
Diana stopped as she started to zip her jacket. "What is it?"
Jacques slid four pills towards her. "Mind telling me why you have Diazepam?"
Diana's heart stopped as she watched Jacques frown. She felt like a thirteen-year-old child who had been caught smoking. "It's--it's for--"
"Diana, don't try to lie to me. I know you better than you know yourself."
She sat down in the chair and laid her hands in front of her. She knew that he wouldn't let her out of his apartment until she'd told him everything. "I was once assigned—deep cover—to work in Russia, I did things that I'm not proud of, but they were necessary."
Jacques pulled a stool out from underneath a counter and sat in front of her. "What types of things?"
"My cover in Russia was to infiltrate K-Directorate and appear to be willing to do certain jobs for them. Assassinations and car bombings were the usual. They had to show that they were powerful in the Russian underground."
Diana shuddered as she thought about her actions in the past. Patrick had assured her it had to be done, and that the people she'd killed were criminals--nothing more. "They are still people!" she had shouted at him over and over again.
"Part of my training with K-Directorate was with a man named Nikolai Ludin. He was their enforcer. He taught me every thing I know now about car bombs and assassinations. He showed me how to use Diazepam. If you are standing still for a very long time, an average person will start to twitch. Hands will start to shake, and you will start to shift your weight some. It's a natural reaction. Diazepam slows that reaction. It allowed us to be able to stand still for a long period of time and take a clean shot."
"So, why do you need it here? You're planning on acting like a sniper?"
"I just have some unfinished business," she said as she stood up from the chair. She started over to the table where the pills were laying, but Jacques beat her to them. He took them from the table and tossed them in the trash.
"No," he said looking back at her. "You're going to get yourself killed. If you need to go away for awhile to decompress, do that, but I won't let you do something that you'll most assuredly regret."
"You know I'll find another way, Jacques. I always do."
"That's what I'm afraid of," he said as he turned to face her. "Diana, give me your word about something?"
She nodded for him to continue.
"Promise me that you will take a break. I don't want to read about Elizabeth Aldermen dying in a foreign country."
"Jacques, you know I can't do that. I just can't forget what happened."
He took her hand in his. "I'm not asking you to forget. I'm asking you to walk away this time. I'll figure something out, and we can go from there."
Diana looked at him and sighed. "Jacques, if you promise to keep me informed-"
"I promise," he said as squeezed her hand. "I swear, you are becoming more like your parents every day. You got your mother's looks, and Maurice's stubborn attitude."
She blushed at the compliment, and hugged him. "I'm going to miss you, Jacques," she whispered, fighting the tears that pricked at her eyes.
"I will see you again, Diana," he said returning her hug. He looked at his watch. "You have about four hours before your flight leaves. You should get out of here."
She stepped back and smiled sadly at him. Without saying a word, she turned and left.
****
"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said to the cab driver. "You'll be here?" she asked, as she got of the vehicle, careful to keep her accent in place.
"For more money I will be," he said, looking her over.
She reached in her back pocket, and pulled out some of the money Jacques had given her. "I'll be back in a few minutes. This should cover the meter." She handed the bills to the cab driver.
"You know that this is closed to the public," the driver said pointing a sign on a gate.
She looked at her watch. "It's after six. I don't think anyone will be here." She handed him more money. "Besides, I won't tell if you won't."
The cab driver pocketed the money and looked at his meter. "Fine, whatever you want, lady."
"Thanks," she said over her shoulder and she walked towards the observatory. She wanted one last look at the city that had brought her so many happy memories.
***
She smiled as she leaned against the railing that overlooked the Los Angeles skyline. The sun had started to set and the memories of her first year had come back. She had initially resisted coming to work for the CIA in Los Angeles after her training. While New Orleans was a big city, she had preferred the slower pace of the Big Easy. She'd been in L.A. for six months and hating it until she met Michael at one of the many seminars that the Agency made new agents attend.
She had been sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, pouring over her explosives manual, when she'd heard someone approach her. She'd tensed and waited.
"Excuse me, are you Diana Rochelle?" the voice behind her had asked cautiously as if he were afraid of her response. She had gotten the reputation very quickly of being difficult to deal with.
"Yes, I am," she said quietly as she continued to look at the manual. She spoke slowly to hide her telling southern accent. People who didn't know her took her as being slow-witted because of it.
He placed an employee pass down next to her. "I found this in the hallway. I figured you would need it."
She reached into her pocket, and realized that she had lost it. Turning around to face him, she caught her breath, as she looked him over. Tall, dark hair, and a blue Oxford. She'd always loved a man in a blue Oxford. A warm blush came to her face as she saw him return her gaze. "Thanks," she mumbled, and looked down at her feet.
"You're from New Orleans, right?"
"Yeah, I am. Why?"
"Well, there's a new restaurant in town that I've been wanting to try, and they supposedly serve authentic New Orleans dishes."
She couldn't stop the chuckle that came out. "Authentic New Orleans food? In Los Angeles? Sorry to tell you this, but food from there can't be duplicated."
He sat down next to her and smiled. "Maybe you should prove their claim wrong. Let's go try it out tonight."
"Moving a little fast, aren't you? I don't even know your name," she said. She had noticed him during her first month in L.A. when she had seen him talking to another dark haired man, an Agent Weiss, she remembered from her orientation.
He held out his hand. "I'm Michael Vaughn. And for the record, I'm not moving too fast, you've been here six months and you haven't even seen the city yet."
Diana smiled in response. "Have you been spying on me, Agent Vaughn?"
"Call me Michael, and I wouldn't call it spying. I would call it observing."
"Okay, Michael," she said, laughing. "We can call it 'observing'. Whatever lets you sleep well at night." Still feeling the wide smile on her face, she blushed again and looked down at her feet.
"So, is after work okay?" he asked quietly.
"Okay for what?"
"Dinner. At that restaurant."
"Oh," she said. "Yes, I suppose that it's okay."
"Great. I'll wait for you in the lobby after work, Agent Rochelle."
"Call me Diana," she said quickly and sounding more eager than she intended.
"Okay, Diana. I'll see you after work." He stood up and walked away. Diana watched as he made his way through the crowd, and smiled to herself. "Maybe L.A. won't be so bad after all."
Diana pulled the necklace she'd been wearing from underneath her shirt. She rubbed her finger across the small gem on the engagement ring that Michael had given her. A wry smile spread on her face as she realized that her old friend had been right: "Leaving again without fixing this would be a bad idea."
As she took one last look at the city, she froze as she heard someone moving towards her. She moved towards a hammer that one of the construction people had left on the ground.
She leaned down to pick it up and stopped when she heard a gun cock back.
"I know you aren't armed, Diana, so please let's not have any trouble," the man said behind her.
"How did you find me?"
"During our late night conversations, you'd mentioned that you'd always come here to clear your mind." He paused and then mocked, "During those horrible years when you parents had forced you to attend UCLA. It was one of the things that I remember about you so vividly. Put the hammer down, Diana."
She cursed herself for being so open with him, especially after they had to spend ten hours in the stagnant Brazilian heat, going after the latest leak in K-Directorate, a Viktor Chekov. Her grip on the hammer grew tighter.
"Diana. Please. Your Agent Vaughn isn't here to save you this time. Put it down."
Letting it drop to the ground, she turned to face the person holding the gun.
"I thought you would've gone back to St. Petersburg by now, Nikolai. You really should go back, and I'll forget that you attacked me this afternoon." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Trust me when I say that you'd rather I did forget."
He kept the gun trained at her head and smiled. "Always with the threats. Your intimidation methods never worked on me. Where's the disk and money, Diana?"
"For the love of God, Nikolai, I don't know what you're talking about. What money and what disk?" she asked. She wondered if he was after the same disk that had gotten her friends killed.
"The disk from the operation in Barcelona. Patrick and I made a deal. Now, my money is missing, along with that disk."
Diana blinked twice, and stepped back. "You and Patrick? A deal? What-what are you talking about?" She shut her eyes and shook her head. Patrick wasn't a double. Not Patrick.
Nikolai put his gun in his holster. "Right after you had me arrested, Patrick came to visit me. We discussed my crimes, and the prison time I was facing. I then asked about you. Even though you were CIA, I still thought you were a good agent. You fooled me for two years."
"I'm flattered," she said, anger coursing through her veins.
He ignored her. "You see even then, Diana, Patrick had what you Americans call 'a thing' for you. He had mentioned in passing how amazing you were. He'd always get this look about him when you came up in conversation, and it was so easy to get him to turn."
"You're lying," she said, stepping towards him. "Patrick would never become a double agent. It wasn't in his character."
"Am I, Diana? After St. Petersburg, how often did you find yourselves not succeeding, as you should have? How many times did you find yourself getting to the intel a moment too late?"
Diana felt sick to her stomach. She thought back to the operations before Barcelona. At the time, she'd considered the few shootouts that the team had as par for course. No one was ever seriously hurt, and they'd continue on as planned.
"And the team?"
"According to Patrick, they were expendable. His ultimate goal was to have you, and mine was to gain the upper hand against the Alliance. I gave him the idea of setting you up, Diana, and he carried it out. I'm sure that by now, you've seen the pictures of you and me in Budapest. All it took was a little prodding from me, an offer of a new identity, and he was working for K-Directorate. He's made you appear to be the double, when it had been him the whole time," he said as he straightened out his jacket.
She ran her hand over her hair, trying to piece together the events of the past years. Patrick had always been a little too pushy for her, trying to mix business with pleasure, but he got the job done. There had been a few times that she'd even told him to back off, and while he appeared angry about it, he never brought it up again.
"And you think I have this disk and money?" she asked, her voice sounding defeated.
"Who else could have it? You two were close, Diana. Maybe you found out about his duplicity and killed him for it, and now you are the one with the upper hand," he said, taking his gun out of his holster. "You understand that this is nothing personal; it's the nature of the business that we're in. I'll give you until five to tell me what I need to know."
"I've already told you, Nicky, I don't know what you're talking about. Regardless of our affiliations, you know I'm a person of honor, and I would never lie to you."
"You did that for two years, Diana, and now, because you have a gun in your face, you want to talk about honor?"
"Nikolai, please," she said, pleading with her eyes. "I swear to you, I don't know what you're talking about."
He cocked the gun. "You have until three."
She began to answer when she heard a high-pitched noise. She dropped to the ground, and rolled over. Waiting a minute, she called out to Nikolai. "Vy projadke?"
"Nikolai?" she hissed, scooting over to him. "Are you okay?"
A gasp caught in her throat as she turned him over. "Oh, God," she whispered. She ripped off her jacket arm and pressed the cloth into a gapping wound in Nikolai's shoulder. As she looked him over, she noticed a gash over his left eye. "You hold on, and I'll get us out of here."
Keeping her body low to the ground, she started to move towards the entrance of the observatory, looking for any sign of another person in the area. As she reached the edge of the gate, she saw her cab waiting.
"Hey," she hissed, hoping not to give her position away. "Hey!" she said again, her voice louder. The driver didn't respond. "Son of a bitch," she muttered, as she stood up straighter from her position. She looked around her twice, and rushed towards the waiting vehicle. "Look," she said, quickly catching her breath. "I need your cell phone. There's someone hurt back there and—" She looked at the man, whose head was turned away from her.
She bent down and looked closer at the driver. "Did you hear me? I said I need your cell phone."
Growing impatient, she reached into the open window and grabbed his shirt collar. "Look, I don't know what your problem is, but—"
A wave of nausea washed over her as the driver's head lolled in her direction. She looked at his neck and saw a thin red line across it, blood seeping from the wound to soak his collar. His tongue was swollen and hanging out of his mouth.
She opened the door and reached into the vehicle, trying to find a cell phone. She grabbed the radio, and threw it down in disgust as she realized that it had been smashed. She reached across the cold body and cringed at the unnatural coolness of the driver's hand. As her eyes raked over the crowded confines of the taxi, her eyes settled on the man's face. His lips were tinged a pale blue and his vacant eyes appeared to focus on her as they pleaded with her, damned her.
She staggered away from the doorway and stood up to look for a pay phone. Seeing one at the end of the parking lot, she sprinted towards it. But as her fingers brushed against the handle of the phone, another high-pitched sound rang out, and she fell to the ground.
Pain pulsated through her body and blurred her sight as she tried to sit up. Reaching behind her, Diana's fingers closed around the slender body of a dart sticking out of her shoulder blade.
Gasping for breath, she winced as she pulled it out. When she tried to stand up, another sound rang out and pain coursed through her calf muscle, knocking her onto her back. She blinked her eyes and tried to move.
"Don't try to get up again," a distorted voice said from behind her. "I don't want to hurt you."
Her eyes rolled around, and she felt herself losing consciousness. "Who are you?" she asked her voice sounding groggy.
Taking deep breaths, she attempted to will herself to keep her eyes open. "Who are you?" she called out again, her eyes searching the night.
"Diana, I've missed you so much," the voice said, standing above her. He took his mask off and bent down next to her. "How have you been?"
Blinking a few times, she tried to get her eyes to focus. A sense of dread filled her as the face became clear. "P-Patrick?"
He brushed the hair out of her face and smiled, as he looked her over. "Did you miss me?"
****
A/N: Per usual, thanks to Robin for the constant encouragement, and the beta for this story. It's been a wild ride, and I can't tell you how much I do appreciate you sticking with me and this story from its inception. Thanks also to all of you who are still reading this story. I apologize for the sporadic updates. The final parts will be up in the next week. Thanks to all of you in the Alias fandom who have been supportive of everyone in one form or another. Thanks.