Title: For Love of Country
Author: DOKChairman
Time: No particular time frame. Assume everything that has happened up to Counteragent is fair game.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately for my bank account, J.J. Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, and ABC own Alias. I own nothing so don't sue me.
Dedication: To Jada and Angela, you are the wind beneath my wings.
"I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country." - Nathan Hale
One of the first things they teach you at the Farm is that everybody breaks. No one, absolutely no one, can last forever. The human body can only endure a finite amount of pain and damage. Eventually, they say, the body gives up and the will to continue fighting goes with it. Eventually, all you care about is making the pain stop. You will do anything, say anything, to make them stop the pain.
Vaughn had always been struck by this knowledge. After all, who wouldn't be? It wasn't every day that a twenty-something, testosterone addled, all-knowing, cocky young man was told that he wasn't invincible. Because that was what they were telling you. They were telling you that even though you thought you were Superman, you were still susceptible to kryptonite and the enemy knew that.
They were telling you that despite your claims to the contrary, you were not that one agent who would never break. Oh sure, they would tell you that a determined man, a dedicated man, could hold out for days, maybe even weeks, but they always made sure that they would end that statement with the same line. "No man lasts forever," they would say.
And that was the key. The cornerstone of their entire indoctrination process. Dedication. To the Agency, to your country, to yourself. If you were dedicated enough, if you put the needs of the mission above your own, then you could hold out. For a time.
Vaughn had embraced that idea, and for a time, it had worked for him. Until he met Sydney Bristow. That was when his life was turned upside down. That was when dedication to ones country was no longer enough.
Sydney was special, and Vaughn had recognized that fact the second he met her. There were certain qualities in Sydney that most people just didn't possess. Certain qualitites that Vaughn knew he didn't possess. They were qualities that needed to be protected; and she needed to be protected above all else.
That was when Vaughn's dedication had changed. Instead of dedication to his country, he became dedicated to Sydney Bristow. That wasn't to say that he was no longer loyal to his country, he was, it just wasn't enough for him anymore. It wasn't enough to endure the pain of wanting something you can't have, to endure the lies and danger, and above all to endure the pain of loss. She was.
Sydney gave his life a purpose, and he relished in her presence. She was his proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. His reward for staying the course and taking down SD-6 and the Alliance. She was his life.
It was only fitting that the woman he lived for would also be the woman he died for. Symmetry was as fickle and as temperamental as Fate.
He hadn't even seen them coming. He was on his normal morning run, nearing the end of his circuit, when three men dressed all in black had grabbed him and thrown him in a black van. They had stuck a needle in his neck and had injected him with something. The next thing he knew, he woke up naked and strapped to a chair.
He had had fantasies similar to this in the past, but they had all involved Sydney and he hadn't been afraid for his life. This was no fantasy.
Vaughn had always wanted to meet Arvin Sloane. To meet the man who had made Sydney's life a living hell. He had often fantasied about that too. To walk up to the man and put a bullet in his head. Just so that Sydney could be free. Just so that he could be free.
Free to tell Sydney that he was in love with her. Free to walk into her house. Free to meet her friends. Just free to be free.
Instead of that fantasy playing out, a nightmare occurred. The nightmare that he was living.
They had started easy enough. They had injected him with Sodium Pentothal. When that didn't work, they had moved to Sodium Amytal and Vaughn had found himself in a hypnotic state. They had asked him questions about his past, about what he did at the Agency, about who he worked with, but Vaughn only ended up reliving events from his childhood. That had been a form of torture in and of itself. It was like he was reliving his life before he lost his father. It had been Hell because he knew what would eventually happen in the end.
Time passed for Vaughn on a different level during those sessions. He had no idea how long he had been under the influence of the inordinate number of drugs they had forced upon him. The chemicals kept his mind loose, confused, and easily amenable but somehow he had managed to keep the most important secret to himself. He clung to it like a life preserver in a sea of endless darkness. He knew that if he gave them the one piece of information that they desperately wanted, then Sydney's life would be forfeit and Vaughn would not allow that.
If Sydney's life was forfeit, then so was his. Vaughn had no delusions of a Shakespearean ending. He had always known in the back of his mind that Sydney could eventually die. Vaughn knew that if that were to happen, he would be devastated and he would never get over it, but he would continue on living. However, if he was the cause of her death, he didn't know if he could take that kind of guilt and pain. He would not give up Sydney because her safety was his sanity.
Eventually they had given up on the chemicals. That was when the real interrogation begun. Vaughn once again had found himself face to face with the man he hated. Sloane had given him one last chance to talk, Vaughn had told him to go to Hell, and Sloane had sighed disappointedly. That was when Vaughn had seen them.
They had been tall men, with wide shoulders, and forearms almost as big as Vaughn's thighs. They never talked, never issued a sound, and that drove Vaughn almost as crazy as the pyschotropic drugs they had saturated his body with.
They had hooked him up to an IV to flush his body of chemicals, they didn't want anything to dull the pain and provide relief, and then they had started to work. They began at his abdomen and worked their way upward. They never asked a question during their sessions. They just beat him. At the end of the day someone else would come in and ask him if he would like to confess. Every time, he answered the same. No.
They never fed him, and only provided him with enough water to keep his body hydrated. He was constantly light headed and thirsty. His throat was raw, his breaths shallow, and he had trouble focusing on anything. Vaughn was almost positive that he had a concussion, and he knew for a fact that several ribs were broken. But he never talked. He never gave up hope that maybe, just maybe, he would be rescued. Deep down he knew that he was going to die, but he desperately clung to anything that would keep his will to continue on.
He was afraid because he knew he was starting to give up. The pain was becoming too much. He could barely stay conscious for more than a few hours and it hurt just to breathe. The only thing that kept him going was the knowledge that Sydney would die if he talked. However, he knew that eventually, even that deterrent would not be strong enough to hold his tongue.
And then the tall man with the wire frame glasses had entered Vaughn's room with his machine, and Vaughn entered a whole new dimension of pain. This time the pain wasn't localized to just one specific area, it spread to his whole body. His body became a mass of twitching limbs, his skin burned and lost all color, and he was turned into a drooling blob. He had lost all control over his bodily functions after that. None of his limbs could move. The only part of him that he had any control over had been his mind and he had taken to humming simple songs to keep that small part of him alive.
Vaughn had always found the idea of singing to oneself embarrassing and ludicrous. That was until he joined the CIA. When the counter-intelligence instructors at the Farm had taught them methods of countering interrogation, one of their methods had been the mnemonic device. The trainees were told to create a mnemonic device or a mantra, anything simple that they could focus on and channel their thoughts into. As long as they were focusing on remembering that simple phrase, song, or word group, they would be less inclined to talk.
That was what Vaughn had been reduced down to. Singing nearly inaudible songs to maintain his sanity. But even that was quickly becoming inadequate. After the third day of enduring the Machine, Vaughn no longer had the will to fight. He was approaching the brink of no return. He knew that if he had to endure one more day of the Machine he would break.
Thankfully, for the first time since waking up in the cold, dark room in the bowels of SD-6, Vaughn felt relief. For the first time, Vaughn had hope. That hope came in the form of Jack Bristow.
"I can't go on Jack. I-I want you to...kill me. Please Jack, just kill me."
Jack froze in indecision. His ear still hovered over Vaughn's mouth, and his body was rigid, but for some reason he couldn't move. The desperation that he heard in Vaughn's voice almost broke his heart. He had never heard such need before. The once strong man that he had grown to gradually respect, and truth be told, gradually like, had been reduced to nothing more than a pathetic man begging for death.
It was at that moment in time that for the first time in his life Jack Bristow felt pure, unadulterated hate. Hate more strong than when he had found out who his wife really was, hate more strong than when Sloane had had Danny killed, hate more strong than when he had almost killed his own daughter in Madagascar. He did not feel this hate towards Arvin Sloane because of what had been done to Michael Vaughn. No, he hated Sloane because in that instant he knew he would do what the man laying limply below him had begged him to do. He would end Vaughn's life. He would. This was something he knew his daughter would never forgive him for. And that was why he hated.
Jack finally moved away from Vaughn and straightened. After a brief bout of hesitation and contemplation, Jack walked to his suit jacket and pulled out a pen. He twisted the knob and all the surveillance in the room went dark. For a few minutes, Jack would be free to talk with Vaughn. This would undoubtedly get him in a lot of trouble, but he owed Vaughn a few minutes of blessed solitude.
Jack walked back to Vaughn's side and said stiffly, "I have disabled the bugs; we are free to talk."
Vaughn heavy lidded eyes focused on Jack with renewed vigor. "Please Jack, you have to kill me. I can't last another day." He broke into a coughing fit and flecks of blood shot out of his mouth. Jack winced at the sight. Vaughn continued on in a pleading tone, "I tried Jack. I really did. I didn't tell them about Sydney. You have to believe me!"
Jack's face softened and he grasped Vaughn's shoulder, making sure he didn't squeeze too hard, and gently pushed the surging Vaughn back down. "I believe you Vaughn. I know you didn't give up Sydney. For that you will have my eternal gratitude."
Jack's words seemed to calm Vaughn and he collapsed limply against his chair. He closed his eyes and his breathing became shallow and even. A look of contented peace settled over his mottled features and he mumbled, "I would never hurt Sydney. Never hurt her." He repeated the same thing over and over again.
Jack sighed and he actually brushed his hand against Vaughn's forehead. Vaughn opened his eyes in surprise and Jack quickly removed his hand. Vaughn looked up at Jack and asked, "Does she know?"
Jack's face contorted painfully. "No."
Vaughn sighed and his eyes closed briefly in resignation. "Good. She would have tried something stupid and likely gotten herself killed." He coughed again. "W-what...are you going...to tell her?"
"The truth. I've lied to her long enough."
Vaughn nodded. He didn't necessarily agree but it was Jack's decision. He just hoped that Sydney would understand that her father did what he had to do. Not only was Jack protecting himself, but he was protecting the Agency and her as well.
The two grew quiet and Vaughn again closed his eyes. It was becoming increasingly harder to stay awake. He was fairly certain he was dying, he just didn't know how long it would take. That was the problem. He might live longer than he could hold out.
Jack's strong voice pierced Vaughn's haze. "Do you love her?"
The question surprised Vaughn. He didn't know if he wanted to answer. In the end, the need to just say it once, to somebody other than himself, won over his hesitance. "At first I tried not to. I really did. I tried to be the good handler that didn't become emotionally attached, but I just couldn't do it." Vaughn paused and looked Jack straight in the eyes. "As I'm sure you're well aware of, your daughter is an incredible woman. She is truly special Jack, and I was a goner the second I laid eyes on her. I didn't want to love her, but I did, and despite everything that has happened I can honestly say that she is the best thing to ever happen to me."
"So you're doing this because you love her?" Jack needed to clarify.
As hard as it was to do, Vaughn nodded his head. "Yes. As much as I don't want to admit it, if she had been any other agent, I would have broken days ago. That's why I need you to kill me Jack. I don't want her to die because of me. I could not handle that."
Jack patted Vaughn's shoulder and said softly, "I know Vaughn. I know. And Vaughn, I'm so sorry."
Jack knew that he was probably past his time limit. If he was going to do this, he had to do it now. Jack stepped back away from Vaughn and rested his hand on his gun. Vaughn's eyes followed him as he moved. "Thank you Jack."
"Thank you Vaughn. I know I never told you this but Sydney could not have been placed in better hands than yours."
Jack released his gun from his holster and moved the slide back to move a round into the chamber. He cocked the hammer and lifted the gun. He took a deep breath.
Vaughn managed to croak out one last thing, "Can you do me a favor Jack?" Jack nodded his head. "Tell..my mother...that I'm sorry." Vaughn's voice was choked up as he knew that this was the end.
Jack closed his eyes. "I will Michael. I will." And then right as the door to the room bursted open, Jack pulled the trigger.
P.S. Chapter 4 will be the conclusion. Tell me what you think of this chapter. Did you like it? Hate it? Do I do good angst or should I just stick to comedy? Inquiring minds want to know.