Author : Amelie (user Iselia)
Email: amelia_aurora(AT)hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Anything Alias is not mine, never will be.
Distribution: Want it? Take it! Just let me know! (
Rating: PG13
A thick brown envelope dropped with a thwack onto Agent Bristow's lunch table. Agent Eric Weiss stood to one side, a faintly smug expression on his face.
"What's this?"
"The bastard spoke," he said with a grin. Weiss was usually an irritation for Jack Bristow. Today, he was a godsend.
Jack opened the file and skimmed over the test transcripts. There were pages and pages of them, covered in little marks and codes. At the rear, there were sheets of interview transcript. "Is this it?"
Weiss snorted and shook his head and pointed to the printers whirring across the hall. "Opened like floodgates about ten minutes ago. Probably thinks the more he tells, the nicer we'll be,"
"Sloane assured SD-6 agents that if they told him everything, he would be more lenient towards them. Perhaps he believes its true,"
Weiss grunted and fiddled with the coffee machine against one wall. Makeshift offices and break rooms had been set up to handle the processing of the SD-6 intel. Jack didn't move. "You want something?"
He frowned slightly. "Have them question him any moles he suspected. Ask about Sydney."
Weiss raised an eyebrow and took a cinnamon donut from the tray. Coffee in one hand and food in the other, he glanced over at where the agents were assembling files and acting as couriers. An unfamiliar agent made his way over with another ten pages of transcript. "It may not be needed just yet," he said. "The typists are sending those through as fast as they can type 'em up," Jack opened the file. "The interrogation team are planning on mentioning you and Sydney when he starts to dry up. We want to get things out of him, Jack, but we don't want put you in danger,"
Jack slapped the file closed. "We're already in danger, Agent Weiss. We have been for years. I'd suggest you get as much intel on Arvin Sloane as fast as possible. Sydney and I can take care of ourselves."
Weiss watched him go. The interrogation team would be reluctant at first, resist Bristow's demands. And he would be demanding; Weiss knew he was heading for Sloane's cell even as he stood there, highly sensitive intel in his hands. But, like most people, they would eventually cave. And who were they to ignore him, anyway? He knew a lot more about this than most of them did. He took a sip of his coffee. It tasted like soap. He took a second sip and winced. At least it would keep him awake.
"I'm not interested," Sydney said wearily. Her first night post-SD-6 and she was plagued by telemarketing. She threw the phone carelessly onto her bed and groaned. It was 8pm. She'd spent nearly ten hours reading over SD-6 personnel statements. Each of them was almost always the same, what they knew, what they thought they knew, what they thought of Sloane. Her eyes hurt, her body was tired and she still hadn't processed what had happened. She felt so very weary; as though she was wearing leaden clothing and being forced to stay awake forever. She'd never considered the aftermath. Never thought beyond a smiling face and warm congratulations when everything was said and done. All she'd thought about was a new life and a new job where the dental benefits didn't involve having teeth extracted as torture.
The phone rang. For a split second, she intended to hurl it at the wall to watch it break. Commonsense won out.
"Hello?"
There was a silence.
"Damnit," she muttered under her breath. "Hello?"
She heard Vaughn laugh. "I'd ask for Joey's Pizza, but you'd probably kill me,"
Sydney smiled softly and lay back on the pillows. If Joey's Pizza called, she would break the phone. "Hey,"
"Thought I'd ring and see how you're doing,"
She sighed. "I think exhausted falls short of how I'm feeling, but lets just go with it anyway,"
The front door opened and she heard Will and Francie enter the house. They were noisy. Jubilant. Two heads poked around her bedroom door.
"Congrats, Syd," Will said loudly. Francie glanced at him in confusion and shook her head.
"He's been like this all day, stupidly cheery for no reason," she rolled her eyes, "If I hadn't been with him all day, I'd think he was drunk," Sydney grinned, unable to stop herself rejoicing at the beginning of the end. No more lies, no more half truths, no more 'bank trips', no more false clumsiness to excuse bruises.
"You're busy,"
"Yeah," she murmured. "I should talk to Will and Francie. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah, of course. 'Night Syd,"
"Goodnight Vaughn."
As she walked through to her friends, she wondered whether this was how people smiled on their wedding day. It had been a long time since she'd fantasised about a wedding. The last time, the faces of Danny and Vaughn had merged into one. It had horrified her; would she never be able to love anyone except Danny? Would she be able to love Vaughn? Some days, though, forgetting Danny seemed like the most easy thing to do; forget, don't think about it, don't feel the guilt. Would she always think of him, always have him peeking over her shoulder, whispering in her mind? Soon after that daydream, all dreams and nightmares had ceased. Cold, exhausted sleep left no room for imagination.
Will stopped listening to Francie when she stepped into the doorway. He gave a confused, hopeful expression and raised his eyebrows. Smothering her smile became impossible and she scrambled over their legs, falling between the two of them.
They shifted sideways, their bodies facing her, open and ready to listen. She grinned widely at both of them, happiness in her eyes. "I quit," she whispered like a mischievous kid. Francie shoved her shoulder.
"Get out!"
She laughed and glanced over at Will. He sat there, shell-shocked. He'd heard about days like these; when everything that you were hoping for came true. He'd never imagined that on this day, the day he got everything back (his life, his job, his friends), that he'd still feel like he was missing something. Or maybe it wasn't absent, but simply misplaced, or not what he'd been expecting.
"Have you finished? Completely?"
Sydney shook her head. Finished completely? Maybe she'd never been truly done with SD6, but they were gone. "I still have a few weeks of work left, but then I'm taking a lot of time off. Finish my degree; maybe take a real holiday,"
Time was so difficult. There were Right and Wrong times with capital letters. Now, for instance was The Wrong Time to tell Francie that her best friend had lied for years on end.
She watched as Francie clambered off the lounge. "Wow, a real holiday?" she turned on lamps as she made her way to the kitchen. "Are Will and I invited?" But it was the Right time to start moving on.
Everything felt normal; food in the kitchen, friends, warm lighting, a good bottle of wine and a few movies on TV. But there was something missing. For so long she'd missed the touch of someone who really loved her. Missed being able to sit down and just touch and be touched. She finally smiled softly. "Yeah, of course. If you want," she tucked her hair behind her left ear, her hand trailing down her neck. "I don't know when I'm going. I think I'm going to go to bed early, though. I have so much work to finish in the next few weeks,"
Francie's face fell. "Already? But Syd," she raised a bottle of wine, "It's celebration time!"
"Sorry. Why don't we celebrate when I don't have to work the next day?" she blew her a kiss. "Night Fran," Her eyes met Will's. She nodded to her room and he followed.
She sat in the centre of her bed and drew her pillow into her lap. He leant against the doorjamb, his head resting against it. They looked at one another. Forlorn, she thought; he looked forlorn. Was he missing things too?
"When?"
"This morning. I pressed a gun to his throat," Will didn't smile. She had expected him to- Vaughn had- but then, he knew nothing of Sloane. Didn't know the disgust she felt at even associating with him. He had an idea, but knew nothing compared to what she really felt. She sighed and closed her eyes. "My father and I have spent all day reading the statements of all the SD-6 staff. I had to ring Diane and tell her a lie about why Dixon wouldn't be home for awhile. Marshall's probably in shock,"
"You're probably in shock,"
Shock. Shock. She hadn't considered that. She didn't feel enough to feel shock. She was numbed, still in disbelief. There had been no debriefing - no time - and she didn't really know where they were at in the whole scheme of things.
"I'm lost, Will," she whispered. He sat beside her. When had he bypassed the potential love and settled into the role of comfortable old friend? Did it matter? At the end of the day, she was there for him, whether she was sleeping beside him or not. "What if I can't live a normal life ever again? What if I can't get used to it, or what if I can't even have a normal life? What if-"
"What if you can?"
She looked up at him, big brown eyes peeping out from under thick lashes. He fought to stop himself kissing her. It was getting easier and easier. He knew where her heart lay. Hell, her father and the entire CIA knew where her heart lay. And, as far as he knew, the poor guy hadn't even had the chance to lay one on her yet.
"Syd, let it go, okay? You've just, like, annihilated some international big bad thing, and you're worrying already? Enjoy it!" he nudged her shoulder playfully. "You're a legend, okay?"
She smiled and tugged back the covers. "Will?" he turned. "Thanks. For everything,"
He smiled back and shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're welcome."
TBC.
Reviews would be lovely. (
A thick brown envelope dropped with a thwack onto Agent Bristow's lunch table. Agent Eric Weiss stood to one side, a faintly smug expression on his face.
"What's this?"
"The bastard spoke," he said with a grin. Weiss was usually an irritation for Jack Bristow. Today, he was a godsend.
Jack opened the file and skimmed over the test transcripts. There were pages and pages of them, covered in little marks and codes. At the rear, there were sheets of interview transcript. "Is this it?"
Weiss snorted and shook his head and pointed to the printers whirring across the hall. "Opened like floodgates about ten minutes ago. Probably thinks the more he tells, the nicer we'll be,"
"Sloane assured SD-6 agents that if they told him everything, he would be more lenient towards them. Perhaps he believes its true,"
Weiss grunted and fiddled with the coffee machine against one wall. Makeshift offices and break rooms had been set up to handle the processing of the SD-6 intel. Jack didn't move. "You want something?"
He frowned slightly. "Have them question him any moles he suspected. Ask about Sydney."
Weiss raised an eyebrow and took a cinnamon donut from the tray. Coffee in one hand and food in the other, he glanced over at where the agents were assembling files and acting as couriers. An unfamiliar agent made his way over with another ten pages of transcript. "It may not be needed just yet," he said. "The typists are sending those through as fast as they can type 'em up," Jack opened the file. "The interrogation team are planning on mentioning you and Sydney when he starts to dry up. We want to get things out of him, Jack, but we don't want put you in danger,"
Jack slapped the file closed. "We're already in danger, Agent Weiss. We have been for years. I'd suggest you get as much intel on Arvin Sloane as fast as possible. Sydney and I can take care of ourselves."
Weiss watched him go. The interrogation team would be reluctant at first, resist Bristow's demands. And he would be demanding; Weiss knew he was heading for Sloane's cell even as he stood there, highly sensitive intel in his hands. But, like most people, they would eventually cave. And who were they to ignore him, anyway? He knew a lot more about this than most of them did. He took a sip of his coffee. It tasted like soap. He took a second sip and winced. At least it would keep him awake.
"I'm not interested," Sydney said wearily. Her first night post-SD-6 and she was plagued by telemarketing. She threw the phone carelessly onto her bed and groaned. It was 8pm. She'd spent nearly ten hours reading over SD-6 personnel statements. Each of them was almost always the same, what they knew, what they thought they knew, what they thought of Sloane. Her eyes hurt, her body was tired and she still hadn't processed what had happened. She felt so very weary; as though she was wearing leaden clothing and being forced to stay awake forever. She'd never considered the aftermath. Never thought beyond a smiling face and warm congratulations when everything was said and done. All she'd thought about was a new life and a new job where the dental benefits didn't involve having teeth extracted as torture.
The phone rang. For a split second, she intended to hurl it at the wall to watch it break. Commonsense won out.
"Hello?"
There was a silence.
"Damnit," she muttered under her breath. "Hello?"
She heard Vaughn laugh. "I'd ask for Joey's Pizza, but you'd probably kill me,"
Sydney smiled softly and lay back on the pillows. If Joey's Pizza called, she would break the phone. "Hey,"
"Thought I'd ring and see how you're doing,"
She sighed. "I think exhausted falls short of how I'm feeling, but lets just go with it anyway,"
The front door opened and she heard Will and Francie enter the house. They were noisy. Jubilant. Two heads poked around her bedroom door.
"Congrats, Syd," Will said loudly. Francie glanced at him in confusion and shook her head.
"He's been like this all day, stupidly cheery for no reason," she rolled her eyes, "If I hadn't been with him all day, I'd think he was drunk," Sydney grinned, unable to stop herself rejoicing at the beginning of the end. No more lies, no more half truths, no more 'bank trips', no more false clumsiness to excuse bruises.
"You're busy,"
"Yeah," she murmured. "I should talk to Will and Francie. I'll see you tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah, of course. 'Night Syd,"
"Goodnight Vaughn."
As she walked through to her friends, she wondered whether this was how people smiled on their wedding day. It had been a long time since she'd fantasised about a wedding. The last time, the faces of Danny and Vaughn had merged into one. It had horrified her; would she never be able to love anyone except Danny? Would she be able to love Vaughn? Some days, though, forgetting Danny seemed like the most easy thing to do; forget, don't think about it, don't feel the guilt. Would she always think of him, always have him peeking over her shoulder, whispering in her mind? Soon after that daydream, all dreams and nightmares had ceased. Cold, exhausted sleep left no room for imagination.
Will stopped listening to Francie when she stepped into the doorway. He gave a confused, hopeful expression and raised his eyebrows. Smothering her smile became impossible and she scrambled over their legs, falling between the two of them.
They shifted sideways, their bodies facing her, open and ready to listen. She grinned widely at both of them, happiness in her eyes. "I quit," she whispered like a mischievous kid. Francie shoved her shoulder.
"Get out!"
She laughed and glanced over at Will. He sat there, shell-shocked. He'd heard about days like these; when everything that you were hoping for came true. He'd never imagined that on this day, the day he got everything back (his life, his job, his friends), that he'd still feel like he was missing something. Or maybe it wasn't absent, but simply misplaced, or not what he'd been expecting.
"Have you finished? Completely?"
Sydney shook her head. Finished completely? Maybe she'd never been truly done with SD6, but they were gone. "I still have a few weeks of work left, but then I'm taking a lot of time off. Finish my degree; maybe take a real holiday,"
Time was so difficult. There were Right and Wrong times with capital letters. Now, for instance was The Wrong Time to tell Francie that her best friend had lied for years on end.
She watched as Francie clambered off the lounge. "Wow, a real holiday?" she turned on lamps as she made her way to the kitchen. "Are Will and I invited?" But it was the Right time to start moving on.
Everything felt normal; food in the kitchen, friends, warm lighting, a good bottle of wine and a few movies on TV. But there was something missing. For so long she'd missed the touch of someone who really loved her. Missed being able to sit down and just touch and be touched. She finally smiled softly. "Yeah, of course. If you want," she tucked her hair behind her left ear, her hand trailing down her neck. "I don't know when I'm going. I think I'm going to go to bed early, though. I have so much work to finish in the next few weeks,"
Francie's face fell. "Already? But Syd," she raised a bottle of wine, "It's celebration time!"
"Sorry. Why don't we celebrate when I don't have to work the next day?" she blew her a kiss. "Night Fran," Her eyes met Will's. She nodded to her room and he followed.
She sat in the centre of her bed and drew her pillow into her lap. He leant against the doorjamb, his head resting against it. They looked at one another. Forlorn, she thought; he looked forlorn. Was he missing things too?
"When?"
"This morning. I pressed a gun to his throat," Will didn't smile. She had expected him to- Vaughn had- but then, he knew nothing of Sloane. Didn't know the disgust she felt at even associating with him. He had an idea, but knew nothing compared to what she really felt. She sighed and closed her eyes. "My father and I have spent all day reading the statements of all the SD-6 staff. I had to ring Diane and tell her a lie about why Dixon wouldn't be home for awhile. Marshall's probably in shock,"
"You're probably in shock,"
Shock. Shock. She hadn't considered that. She didn't feel enough to feel shock. She was numbed, still in disbelief. There had been no debriefing - no time - and she didn't really know where they were at in the whole scheme of things.
"I'm lost, Will," she whispered. He sat beside her. When had he bypassed the potential love and settled into the role of comfortable old friend? Did it matter? At the end of the day, she was there for him, whether she was sleeping beside him or not. "What if I can't live a normal life ever again? What if I can't get used to it, or what if I can't even have a normal life? What if-"
"What if you can?"
She looked up at him, big brown eyes peeping out from under thick lashes. He fought to stop himself kissing her. It was getting easier and easier. He knew where her heart lay. Hell, her father and the entire CIA knew where her heart lay. And, as far as he knew, the poor guy hadn't even had the chance to lay one on her yet.
"Syd, let it go, okay? You've just, like, annihilated some international big bad thing, and you're worrying already? Enjoy it!" he nudged her shoulder playfully. "You're a legend, okay?"
She smiled and tugged back the covers. "Will?" he turned. "Thanks. For everything,"
He smiled back and shoved his hands into his pockets. "You're welcome."
TBC.
Reviews would be lovely. (