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
The level of attention being paid to her mystery contact surprised Sydney. The destruction of SD-6 was at a critical stage, and yet at least ten agents had been pulled from the case to track down the mystery man.
Weiss slapped a paper-clipped bunch of black and white stills onto the desk. "We pulled these from the security tapes," he said. "We tried to get as many angles as possible, but still don't have a front on facial shot. The techs are working on that, though,"
Vaughn snatched the up and flipped through them. "I'll get someone to run this through the SD-6 database we've started," he paused and handed them to Sydney. "Does he look at all familiar, Syd?"
She stared at the image for as long as she could. Finally, she just shook her head. It felt futile. So much for being free of SD-6, free of over-the- shoulder glances and constantly checking for observers.
He sighed and handed the file back to Weiss. "I'll have to write up a report about this," he ran a hand through his hair. "You're meant to be on leave, Syd,"
Sydney nodded silently. She spent so much time working when she was meant to be on leave that it didn't really make a difference to her anymore. She knew that at least half her leave would be spent answering concerns about SD-6, talking things over with Dixon or Marshall or even just listening to Vaughn and her father talk shop.
"I think I'll just stick around here for awhile. Knowing my luck, I'd get home only to be called back for something,"
Vaughn sighed. It wasn't meant to be like this. He watched as she smiled slightly, moving to take his hand. "I'm going to get a coffee and maybe wander around a little. I won't be far, so-"
"I'll call if anything comes up," he promised. She bit her lip and nodded. There was no way she would voice how terrified she was that this tiny slip of happiness would be cruelly snatched away from her.
It was three hours before Weiss returned to his desk. He handed him a print- out and leant against the desk. Vaughn lifted it gently and began to read.
"Marcus Olfield-"
Weiss couldn't be bothered waiting for him to read. "Olfield was involved in SD-6 until roughly two years ago. He and Sydney were stationed in different areas, and he was involved more behind the scenes. Apparently, he was in analysis, which meant he knew everything. Or, according to the sketchy intel we have, he found out the truth. Sloane didn't like this; Olfield was a patriot to heart and he knew enough to effectively destroy SD- 6 thus getting Sloane a one-way ticket to prison.
"According to Jack, who only knew of Olfield by name, Sloane ordered a hit on him. Instead, Olfield has somehow managed to all but disappear. Sloane believed he'd run to Bolivia, which was far enough away to be a fairly low threat to SD-6. But he's back, as we know,"
Vaughn was reeling. "So, how do we get a hold of him? What does he want?"
Weiss handed him another file. "It seems Olfield has been somehow keeping tabs on SD-6. We don't know how; he trained Marshall, however, and we think that maybe he had bugs planted. We can't be sure. It seems that he was warning Sydney not to push any further, to keep out of things,"
"So you're saying the CIA is writing this off as a caution from an ex- agent?"
"Effectively, yes," Weiss said frankly. "But the CIA remains interested in tracking Olfield down. If knows what he seems to know, then he could be an important asset in the legal side of things," he smirked suddenly. "And it'd really piss Sloane off,"
Vaughn found himself grinning. It was short lived. "They're talking about sending Syd to bring him in when they pin him down,"
A million things flashed through his mind. "Eric, she's on leave, they can't -"
Weiss shook his head. "They can and they will. Think about it, Vaughn; he wanted to warn her. To help keep her alive. He knew that by making contact he ran a serious risk of being found. He wants to be found, Mike. And we need to find him,"
Jack Bristow watched as his daughter stalked up the stairs of the faded apartment block. It was well past midnight, and the light in apartment 46B was still burning. Jack, and the other mission supervisors, wondered whether Olfield knew they were coming. He wouldn't put it past him- the word in SD-6 had been that the man was a genius. Any man who Sloane feared was extremely intelligent and extremely dangerous.
Then again, so was his daughter.
"I'm there. The door's not shut," Sydney's voice cut through the air in the vans. The highly suspect looking black vans, parked three in a row in a quiet suburban street. They listened as she entered.
"Hello? Mr Olfield, my name is Agent Bristow from the CIA. I'm here to learn what you know,"
A man, pale from lack of sunlight stepped from the kitchen. "Hello, Agent Bristow," She watched as he flicked the safety off the gun. He was a scrawny looking man in his late fifties. She knew she could easily defeat him if threatened. And, it seemed, so did he, hence the gun. "What do you want to know?"
Weiss leant forward and pressed the tiny comm button on the panel. "Don't let him speak; we've only got forty minutes of record time. Get him out of there and out here. We want him at the ops centre, Syd,"
She inched towards the man. "I want to thank you for what you said to me,"
"Everyone is entitled to trying to enact their dreams, Agent Bristow," he said with an air of detachment. "But some dreams are not possible. Trying to fly will always end in disaster. Love is equally as dangerous to ones health, especially in cases such as ours," he pointed to the sagging couches. "Take a seat, Ms Bristow. I'll tell you what you want to know,"
She hesitated, listening to Weiss and the other officers speaking over each other in the van. "Not here," she said quickly. "Come with me. We- the CIA- want to speak to you. We want to give you a life back,"
Sydney was unsettled by the life this man appeared to lead. They were eerily similar, each living a ghost of the life they had before Arvin Sloane ambushed them. She watched as his eyes flitted across the room. Suddenly, the cold detachment vanished, replaced in his eyes by a heartbreaking sadness. Against her better judgement, she extended her hand to this broken man. From the vans, the CIA operatives watched in silence.
"Please," she whispered. "You helped me. I want to do the same,"
He did not touch her hand, but stared at it, as though he was confused by this gesture of humanity. Finally, he nodded his head. "Give me a moment,"
Sydney leant against the wall. He moved around the flat, opening a can of cat food and spooning it into a pink plastic bowl. He popped open the latches on a battered briefcase. With wrinkled hands, he shuffled papers around; he pulled things out of envelopes, glanced them over and replaced them where they lay. Finally, he snapped it shut, lifted it and walked to the door. "Where am I going?"
She shut the door behind her. "There are cars waiting on the street. They'll take you to the CIA,"
"And you, Sydney? Where are you going?"
She pushed open the glass doors that led outside from the lobby. "I think I'm going home,"
"I don't intend on meeting with you again, Agent Bristow. You should heed my warning; detach yourself from all involvement with SD-6. It may be gone, but it is not forgotten."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the CIA interrogation team were upon them, leading him to an unmarked vehicle. Weiss, Vaughn and Jack walked over to her.
"You should go home, Sydney. I believe we should listen to what Olfield told you,"
Sydney stared at him. "And you, Dad? You're involved in this too,"
'I know. But there are many reasons for you to live, Sydney. There is only one reason for me,"
They watched one another. "Isn't that enough?" she whispered finally, desperately. Vaughn took her hand in his. "Isn't that enough, Dad?"
Jack brushed his fingertips across her cheek. "It should be. It will be," he turned back to Weiss and Vaughn. "Agents, you are dismissed. Take her home, Agent Vaughn and ensure she is not present at work tomorrow. Involve Mr Tippin, if need be,"
He turned and walked to his car. Sydney watched. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"Seven,"
"Eight?" Sydney laughed. "Why eight?"
"Why twenty-nine?" he countered. Sydney smirked. "Eight is a perfectly good number. It's proven to be a lucky number on plenty of occasions,"
It was the sort of conversation that occurred naturally after a few drinks at three a.m. Somehow along the way, favourite movies and music had turned into favourite numbers, favourite letters and favourite drinks.
Vaughn lay back against the pillows and pulled Sydney on top of him. "Favourite.place,"
"Hm," she mumbled, her speech slurring slightly with sleep. "Maybe here,"
They smiled at each other, ridiculously giddy for two CIA agents who have just discovered a major asset in their destruction of SD-6. "Is that so?" he pushed her off gently and rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him. "And here?"
She lifted her lips to his, grinning. "Yeah, here's good too."
Meanwhile, in his cell, Arvin Sloane was sweating. He wasn't meant to be stuck in a tiny cell, covered only by a synthetic blend blanket. There wasn't meant to be armed guards watching his every move. He was meant to have power. Real power. Now, all he had was the power given to him by his legal right.
Or maybe he had a little more. Maybe he could still make people cry. Maybe.
TBC..
I'm aware that chapter was possibly the worst ever written, but meh. Candy is dandy, but reviews are sweeter..hint. (
The level of attention being paid to her mystery contact surprised Sydney. The destruction of SD-6 was at a critical stage, and yet at least ten agents had been pulled from the case to track down the mystery man.
Weiss slapped a paper-clipped bunch of black and white stills onto the desk. "We pulled these from the security tapes," he said. "We tried to get as many angles as possible, but still don't have a front on facial shot. The techs are working on that, though,"
Vaughn snatched the up and flipped through them. "I'll get someone to run this through the SD-6 database we've started," he paused and handed them to Sydney. "Does he look at all familiar, Syd?"
She stared at the image for as long as she could. Finally, she just shook her head. It felt futile. So much for being free of SD-6, free of over-the- shoulder glances and constantly checking for observers.
He sighed and handed the file back to Weiss. "I'll have to write up a report about this," he ran a hand through his hair. "You're meant to be on leave, Syd,"
Sydney nodded silently. She spent so much time working when she was meant to be on leave that it didn't really make a difference to her anymore. She knew that at least half her leave would be spent answering concerns about SD-6, talking things over with Dixon or Marshall or even just listening to Vaughn and her father talk shop.
"I think I'll just stick around here for awhile. Knowing my luck, I'd get home only to be called back for something,"
Vaughn sighed. It wasn't meant to be like this. He watched as she smiled slightly, moving to take his hand. "I'm going to get a coffee and maybe wander around a little. I won't be far, so-"
"I'll call if anything comes up," he promised. She bit her lip and nodded. There was no way she would voice how terrified she was that this tiny slip of happiness would be cruelly snatched away from her.
It was three hours before Weiss returned to his desk. He handed him a print- out and leant against the desk. Vaughn lifted it gently and began to read.
"Marcus Olfield-"
Weiss couldn't be bothered waiting for him to read. "Olfield was involved in SD-6 until roughly two years ago. He and Sydney were stationed in different areas, and he was involved more behind the scenes. Apparently, he was in analysis, which meant he knew everything. Or, according to the sketchy intel we have, he found out the truth. Sloane didn't like this; Olfield was a patriot to heart and he knew enough to effectively destroy SD- 6 thus getting Sloane a one-way ticket to prison.
"According to Jack, who only knew of Olfield by name, Sloane ordered a hit on him. Instead, Olfield has somehow managed to all but disappear. Sloane believed he'd run to Bolivia, which was far enough away to be a fairly low threat to SD-6. But he's back, as we know,"
Vaughn was reeling. "So, how do we get a hold of him? What does he want?"
Weiss handed him another file. "It seems Olfield has been somehow keeping tabs on SD-6. We don't know how; he trained Marshall, however, and we think that maybe he had bugs planted. We can't be sure. It seems that he was warning Sydney not to push any further, to keep out of things,"
"So you're saying the CIA is writing this off as a caution from an ex- agent?"
"Effectively, yes," Weiss said frankly. "But the CIA remains interested in tracking Olfield down. If knows what he seems to know, then he could be an important asset in the legal side of things," he smirked suddenly. "And it'd really piss Sloane off,"
Vaughn found himself grinning. It was short lived. "They're talking about sending Syd to bring him in when they pin him down,"
A million things flashed through his mind. "Eric, she's on leave, they can't -"
Weiss shook his head. "They can and they will. Think about it, Vaughn; he wanted to warn her. To help keep her alive. He knew that by making contact he ran a serious risk of being found. He wants to be found, Mike. And we need to find him,"
Jack Bristow watched as his daughter stalked up the stairs of the faded apartment block. It was well past midnight, and the light in apartment 46B was still burning. Jack, and the other mission supervisors, wondered whether Olfield knew they were coming. He wouldn't put it past him- the word in SD-6 had been that the man was a genius. Any man who Sloane feared was extremely intelligent and extremely dangerous.
Then again, so was his daughter.
"I'm there. The door's not shut," Sydney's voice cut through the air in the vans. The highly suspect looking black vans, parked three in a row in a quiet suburban street. They listened as she entered.
"Hello? Mr Olfield, my name is Agent Bristow from the CIA. I'm here to learn what you know,"
A man, pale from lack of sunlight stepped from the kitchen. "Hello, Agent Bristow," She watched as he flicked the safety off the gun. He was a scrawny looking man in his late fifties. She knew she could easily defeat him if threatened. And, it seemed, so did he, hence the gun. "What do you want to know?"
Weiss leant forward and pressed the tiny comm button on the panel. "Don't let him speak; we've only got forty minutes of record time. Get him out of there and out here. We want him at the ops centre, Syd,"
She inched towards the man. "I want to thank you for what you said to me,"
"Everyone is entitled to trying to enact their dreams, Agent Bristow," he said with an air of detachment. "But some dreams are not possible. Trying to fly will always end in disaster. Love is equally as dangerous to ones health, especially in cases such as ours," he pointed to the sagging couches. "Take a seat, Ms Bristow. I'll tell you what you want to know,"
She hesitated, listening to Weiss and the other officers speaking over each other in the van. "Not here," she said quickly. "Come with me. We- the CIA- want to speak to you. We want to give you a life back,"
Sydney was unsettled by the life this man appeared to lead. They were eerily similar, each living a ghost of the life they had before Arvin Sloane ambushed them. She watched as his eyes flitted across the room. Suddenly, the cold detachment vanished, replaced in his eyes by a heartbreaking sadness. Against her better judgement, she extended her hand to this broken man. From the vans, the CIA operatives watched in silence.
"Please," she whispered. "You helped me. I want to do the same,"
He did not touch her hand, but stared at it, as though he was confused by this gesture of humanity. Finally, he nodded his head. "Give me a moment,"
Sydney leant against the wall. He moved around the flat, opening a can of cat food and spooning it into a pink plastic bowl. He popped open the latches on a battered briefcase. With wrinkled hands, he shuffled papers around; he pulled things out of envelopes, glanced them over and replaced them where they lay. Finally, he snapped it shut, lifted it and walked to the door. "Where am I going?"
She shut the door behind her. "There are cars waiting on the street. They'll take you to the CIA,"
"And you, Sydney? Where are you going?"
She pushed open the glass doors that led outside from the lobby. "I think I'm going home,"
"I don't intend on meeting with you again, Agent Bristow. You should heed my warning; detach yourself from all involvement with SD-6. It may be gone, but it is not forgotten."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the CIA interrogation team were upon them, leading him to an unmarked vehicle. Weiss, Vaughn and Jack walked over to her.
"You should go home, Sydney. I believe we should listen to what Olfield told you,"
Sydney stared at him. "And you, Dad? You're involved in this too,"
'I know. But there are many reasons for you to live, Sydney. There is only one reason for me,"
They watched one another. "Isn't that enough?" she whispered finally, desperately. Vaughn took her hand in his. "Isn't that enough, Dad?"
Jack brushed his fingertips across her cheek. "It should be. It will be," he turned back to Weiss and Vaughn. "Agents, you are dismissed. Take her home, Agent Vaughn and ensure she is not present at work tomorrow. Involve Mr Tippin, if need be,"
He turned and walked to his car. Sydney watched. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"Seven,"
"Eight?" Sydney laughed. "Why eight?"
"Why twenty-nine?" he countered. Sydney smirked. "Eight is a perfectly good number. It's proven to be a lucky number on plenty of occasions,"
It was the sort of conversation that occurred naturally after a few drinks at three a.m. Somehow along the way, favourite movies and music had turned into favourite numbers, favourite letters and favourite drinks.
Vaughn lay back against the pillows and pulled Sydney on top of him. "Favourite.place,"
"Hm," she mumbled, her speech slurring slightly with sleep. "Maybe here,"
They smiled at each other, ridiculously giddy for two CIA agents who have just discovered a major asset in their destruction of SD-6. "Is that so?" he pushed her off gently and rolled on top of her, pinning her beneath him. "And here?"
She lifted her lips to his, grinning. "Yeah, here's good too."
Meanwhile, in his cell, Arvin Sloane was sweating. He wasn't meant to be stuck in a tiny cell, covered only by a synthetic blend blanket. There wasn't meant to be armed guards watching his every move. He was meant to have power. Real power. Now, all he had was the power given to him by his legal right.
Or maybe he had a little more. Maybe he could still make people cry. Maybe.
TBC..
I'm aware that chapter was possibly the worst ever written, but meh. Candy is dandy, but reviews are sweeter..hint. (