Author: Midnight
Title: Flinkman. . .Marshall Flinkman
Summary: Marshall's never considered himself to be the 'secret agent' type, even if he did work for SD-6. Things change however as a sudden trip to London shows everyone, including himself that he has more promise than even the deadliest of agents. Will he give up his life as an 'Op Tech guy' to become a field agent? Or will he remain as he always was? Double-agents, assassinations, elegant parties, beautiful women, The Truth, and more, are all that await him.
Rating: PG. . .for now.
Author's Note: I noticed that there are just way too little fanfics dedicated to our lovable Op-Tech guy from Alias. So this is dedicated to him, and everyone out there who thinks that Marshall deserves his own show. Flames will be used to keep my fireplace burning. Reviews and suggestions are always welcome, and so is constructive criticism. Enjoy.
E-mail me at: varzideh@yahoo.com
~~~~~~
Marshall Flinkman, 'go-to' guy for any possible invention or tech device that existed, was now back at work full time at SD-6.
It had taken several weeks for all his injuries to heal (which thankfully only really consisted of a swollen eye) after being abducted on the way home from Los Angeles International Airport, and yet, here he was. . .back at work.
Spending two weeks on 'sick-leave' was more than he could bear, as he spent nearly all that time either watching the Discovery Channel, or thinking about what had forced him to be sitting at home instead of being at work.
He still kept replaying the events that happened during his time with Sydney, all leading up to the when they jumped out of the 47th floor window of a building in Mexico City. There was no chance in hell that he'd be able to wear a dashing tuxedo and walk down a hall full of elegant adornments with Sydney on his arm, or even parachute out a 47th floor window again.
Sydney. . .he still didn't feel at ease around her. Sure, all his buddies on the tech staff knew that he had a crush on her (since they most likely did themselves), but none of them really knew how sweet and charming she was. . .or the fact that she had voluntarily kissed him. Of course, she had had no other choice really; getting shot with a tranquilizer dart left little options open for them at the time. But still, he'd never forget it.
"Flinkman, Sloane's called a meeting. You're needed in the conference room in five minutes. . ." a passing security head said to the 'go-to' guy himself as he sat there tinkering with what looked to be an expensive black pen.
Marshall, startled by the sudden appearance of someone in his small 'office', dropped the pen he was holding.
"Alrighty" he said as he bent down to pick up the pen.
Unfortunately, it didn't go as smoothly as planned. As he leaned on his chair, it banged right into the table behind him, knocking what seemed to be a dozen bright blue coat buttons onto the floor. They appeared to explode as soon as they hit the ground, releasing white fumes and quickly encompassing the small office quarters.
Hacking profusely, Marshall stumbled out the door and into the main hall, the white fumes visible behind him, but quickly dying down.
Everyone who has been accustomed to Marshall's 'accidents' didn't even look up from their desks as he apologized loudly and tried explaining what had happened.
Now fully embarrassed, he made it to the conference room without further incident.
Sloane was already seated at the far end of the table, elbows on it, and fingers intertwined. It seemed as if that was always how Marshall saw him sitting. To Marshall's disappointment however, Sydney was nowhere to be seen, yet there was someone else in the room that appeared to have been having an intense conversation with Sloane as he entered.
A man, dressed sharply in a dark gray suit, had the same neutral, yet cold expression that Sloane himself often had. They both looked up as he walked in.
"Sorry I'm late. . .buttons. . .tear ga—" he tried to say quickly, only to be cut off as usual before he continued to babble on.
"Marshall, this is David McNeilly. He's head of one of our international branches situated in London. Apparently news of your work here at SD-6 has spread" the head of SD-6 himself said in a neutral tone, as if not really understanding why someone would be impressed to such a degree by a clumsy 'tech guy'. Of course, as long as Marshall was alive, he was in fact, very invaluable to SD-6's espionage capabilities.
Sloane himself was cut off as Mr. McNeilly himself started to speak. "I've seen your work Mr. Flinkman, and since I have not seen anyone with the amount of op tech skills that you possess, I was left with little choice but to meet with you personally."
Marshall opened his mouth and closed it several times, not knowing what to say first. He was just complimented of course, but what were the reasons for the sudden interest in him? There were hundreds of op tech guys in the CIA, or so he thought, and he doubted that there wasn't anyone better than him. It took him several seconds to realize that the man was once again talking.
". . .so due to my office's present state of disarray, I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to come work in our London office for the next few months. You're expertise is greatly needed."
'Greatly needed? Wow. . .' Marshall thought to himself, not able to really grasp the fact that he was as important as he was. But that meant just getting up and leaving L.A, which meant leaving SD-6, his weekly Star Wars fan club meetings. . .and Sydney. For some strange reason, the last point seemed of the most importance.
"Am I supposed to go to London?" he started saying unsurely, looking nervously at Sloane. " I mean, I don't kno--"
It didn't seem as if he'd be able to get a word in edge-wise, considering the fact that Mr. McNeilly seemed to have guessed the question before it was asked. . .despite the fact that Marshall wasn't really sure if he was about to ask a question or not.
"You will be given incentives of course" he said with a motion of his hand. "A large office situated in our Op Tech department, a salary plus seasonal bonuses, a company car, and accommodations. . ."
Marshall shifted uneasily in his chair, a dumbfounded expression on his face. "You guys must really want me to go to London if you're offering me all that. And when you say 'accommodations', do you mean like in a hotel room? or more like one of those British flats, because I read somewhere that almost 90% of them contain asbestos. . ."
He didn't see Sloane trying not to roll his eyes, or McNeilly looking at him with one eyebrow arched, and therefore spent the next few minutes explaining how he'd come across the information.
"I am sure you'll find your accommodations to exceed your expectations Mr Flinkman, should you choose to accept." he said assuredly, despite the obvious wearing down of his patience.
"Of course I don't expect you to decide this instant. I am flying back to London tonight, but I'll expect you to tell Arvin here, of your decision within the next 48 hours. We are really in need of your expertise, and I cannot stress enough how much your help would be appreciated."
It seemed as if he'd said the right words as Marshall grinned sheepishly. Obviously he wasn't used to being praised to such a degree, at least not by people he barely knew.
"Sure thing. . .I'll just be off now. . .if you'll excuse me" he said not knowing really what to say.
Feeling bad about turning his back and walking out, Marshall decided to just put up his hand and say good bye while backing up towards the door. With a loud rattle he banged into one of the rotating glass frames which sealed the room, forcing him to turn around and quickly find the nearest exit.
Letting out a long breath he'd been holding in, he went towards the elevator. Pushing the button marked '4', he tried not to think about everything he'd have to think about very shortly. Instead, he hoped that the cafeteria wouldn't be out of frozen yoghurt by the time he got there.
In the meantime, the two gentleman remained seated in the conference room.
"I hold your opinions in high esteem Arvin" he said doubtfully "although I'm not sure why exactly why you want your op tech specialist sent to SD-4."
Finally standing up, Sloane walked slowly around the table, if for no other reason that to do something other than sit.
"Marshall is one of the smartest individuals I have ever come across, despite his unusual personality. After the incident in Mexico City, I figured it'd be wise that in case of another incident, there would be someone at least in the same range of the Marshall's area of skill. Sending him to at least show SD-4's Op Tech team some of his rather useful inventions would be helpful for both our sakes, considering the fact that if Marshall is indisposed of, it would not be such a loss to SD-6."
McNeilly did something one wouldn't really see a man like him do. . .he laughed.
"Arvin, you know that's one of the poorest explanations I've ever heard you come up with. Surely age isn't catching up with you. Considering the fact that SD-1 is sending their head Op Tech specialist here to Los Angeles, it would be rather inconvenient if Marshall saw and found what was going on to be...somehow inappropriate for the 'CIA' to be doing. Am I correct in my assumption?"
All he got in return was a wry smirk. Sitting back down at his desk, Slone watched on his main computer as Marshall boarded the elevator and headed for the cafeteria.
"I'll be in contact with you David during Marshall's stay in London. If I find Marshall's replacement to be just as useful...then there will be no need for you to keep him around. I'm sure if it came to that, you'd be more than capable of disposing of him."
Taking this as a sign that their conversation was ending, McNeilly stood up and headed for the door.
"You can be assured Arvin that SD-4 is just as capable of disposing of inconveniences as SD-6 is. But in any case, I'll be in touch. I'll go ahead and make arrangements for Mr. Flinkman's stay in London, as I doubt he has a choice as to whether or not he'll go, whether he knows it or not."
To Be Continued…