-Everyone seems to be adding a 'therapy session' into their post-finale
stories so I thought I would follow suit. Of course it is unbelievable
because they probably would never have a joint session, but say it with
'ignore it for the sake of the story'. You watch Alias, so you must be used
to ignoring the obvious.
-The reviews are absolutely wonderful, keep them coming! A big shout out to any NSA members keeping up with this : ) (haha)
-
-
-
Once upon a time, they called me the bleeder
Swimming up this river, its sentimental fever
But this ain't my first try it ain't my last try, just got to keep moving on
If they catch me ever, they'll throw me back forever
-The Bleeder, The Wallflowers
-
"Agent Bristow, nice to see you again."
Sydney did her best to offer a warm smile to Dr. Barnett as she shook her hand and took a seat on the couch.
"Agent Vaughn, it's been a while."
"Yes, it has."
Vaughn gave her a smug nod and followed Sydney onto the couch. Dr. Barnett took note of the fact that Sydney had purposely sat so she was nearly falling off the seat, yet Vaughn ignored the gesture and sat in the middle.
"I know that the two of you are probably wondering why you're here. As you know, this meeting was not ordered by Kendall, but I requested it on my own inquiry."
"May I ask why?"
"Agent Bristow, I know that you have refused my offer to attend sessions outside of the regression-therapy and are not fond of this practice. But the two of you have been through quite a lot during the past two months, or should I say years. Agent Vaughn was a regular in my office for a little more than a year after your . . .disappearance and I felt obligated to follow up on the situation."
Sydney shot a glance at Vaughn, who held a steady gaze at the corner of Barnetts desk. She sighed aloud, finding the meeting tedious and unnecessary.
"I do not intend to be rude, Dr. Barnett, but there is no need to follow up. There is nothing that needs to be said that hasn't already. Agent Vaughn and I have come to terms with the . . .situation, and this meeting will essentially end up to be pointless."
Dr. Barnett smiled at Sydney and turned to Vaughn whose eyes had not removed from the corner of the desk. She began again in a tone that conveyed her knowledge that neither had 'come to terms' with the 'situation'.
"With all due respect, Agent Bristow, I find that hard to believe. The two of you have been raising eyebrows at the agency because of your unprecedented relationship for quite some time.
"I was made aware of Agent Vaughns emotional attachment when I met with him concerning the Christmas gift he had given you. And after you spoke so adamantly of the search efforts to find him rather than your mothers reappearance I realized that the feelings were mutual. Following the fall of the alliance, the two of you began a romantic relationship, is the correct?"
Sydney looked at the ground, doing whatever she could to hide the emotions playing on her face due to the rehash of their relationship. She knew he was watching her, that he knew what she was feeling. Thankfully, he took the liberty of answering this question.
"Yes. Yes we did."
"And how long did this relationship last?"
Again, he answered, this time with a voice that sounded recorded, as if he had memorized the answer and repeated it over and over.
"Three months."
"I see. Am I to assume that the two of you were . . ."
"Happy? Ridiculously. But that question is redundant, we have been over this more than once, Dr. Barnett"
She looked at him, shocked at his open manner. She too felt the same way about their relationship, but had not expected him to be so blatant.
"Of course. You disappeared without a trace and now you're back only to find that Agent Vaughn has married."
The words cut like glass, and she shook her head, silently willing herself to keep it together.
"There was no breakup, no closure for you Agent Bristow. You come back and the man you . . . loved?"
She knew what Barnett was asking, and had been fully prepared to answer. Quickly she replied, her voice firm and more than convincing.
"Love."
"The man you love had moved on. There was no closure, no . . ."
Both women looked up in shock as Vaughn leapt from his seat and began to pace the room, abruptly stopping to look Barnett straight in the eye.
"What is it you want me to say? I think that it is painfully obvious that I still love Sydney, that every time I look at my wife I am reminded that I did something I swore I would never do, I gave up on her. And that hurts . . .it hurts like *hell *. Would you like to rub it in some more?"
Dr. Barnett stared at the young man, whom she thought she had begun to know but was apparently wrong. After gaining composure she tried to answer the accusation.
"Agent Vaughn, I was merely . . ."
"No . . .I don't have to be here, I don't have to listen to this. I have things to do. I'm sorry Sydney."
All she could manage was a nod. He stared at Barnett for a moment longer and then briskly existed leaving Sydney on her own.
"That was so . . .unlike him."
"Your disappearance was a difficult time on Agent Vaughn."
Stifling a laugh, she matched the stare Vaughn had given the woman. Vaughn was not the victim, she was. Her life had been turned upside down unwillingly, he on the other hand had chosen his fate. He had known that, so why wouldn't Dr. Barnett give in as well? She too was tired of listening to the woman.
"Are we done?"
The doctor shook her head, made a note or two before she looked back up at Sydney and nodded. Slowly she stood, walked over to the desk and ripped the paper out of the yellow pad, smiled and exited the room.
*
It was nine o'clock in the morning and Sydney sat on her couch staring at a slip of paper.
*You have to do this, you cannot whimp out now. *
Sighing, she finally ended the battle in her head as she stood up to leave. Grabbing her purse, she headed towards the door, and reached to open it only to find it opening in her face.
"Weiss?"
"Hey Syd. I need to borrow your laptop."
Nonchalantly he walked into her home and took a seat on the barstool. Eventually he noticed she was dressed to leave.
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
"Fine don't tell me."
"Why do you need my laptop?"
"I, well, I kind of spilt sprite on it. You know, that new remix stuff. Well, it isn't really new to me, but to you, and let me tell you, it is just beyond great. So anyway the keyboards all sticky."
She laughed at him and nodded towards the couch.
"Go ahead. But don't even consider keeping a beverage anywhere near it."
"Wouldn't think of it."
"I've got to go."
"Alright, see you later."
*
She turned off the car stereo as she began driving down familiar roads. It had been so long since she returned to where she had grown up, and once pleasant memories were now painful. That's the home where my dad taught me to be a spy when I was six. That's the ice cream shop my murdering mother took me when dad was out of town. Everything had changed, and that was something that she couldn't forgive her mother for.
Finally she reached her destination and sat in her car for a moment and just watched. Teenage kids were exiting and entering the school, carrying various books and backpacks, laughing with their friends. Part of her began to wish she was one of those kids, that her worst problems were the boy who said he liked her but kissed her best friend at some party.
She walked the few feet to the front of the school and swung the door open. It had obviously been renovated since she was a high schooler, the paint was fairly new and the floors were surprisingly clean tile.
Approaching the desk she plastered on her best smile and greeted the young lady who looked reasonably bored clicking aimlessly on the computer in front of her.
"Can I help you?"
"I sure hope so. My friend is turning thirty next week and I am trying to put together a bit of a scrap book for her. She won't let me near any of her Highschool photos so I was wondering if you had a yearbook archive of some sort."
"Aww, that's sweet. Let me get Matt, I'm sure he can help you."
The woman got up and headed toward the back room and returned with a man about her own age with her, who proceeded to look her up and down, quite blatantly at that.
"I hear you need a yearbook."
"And I hear you can help me."
"Right this way ma'am."
He grinned at her and she followed him out of the room and down a long set of stairs. At the end of a long hallway he opened a door revealing a small room with shelves stacked with tall hardback books.
"You'll find everything you need in here. I am going to have to ask you to sign this though, we keep a record of everyone who accesses the yearbooks. Not a long list."
"I can see that."
Sydney reached for the pen and signed the sheet, resuming a familiar alias.
"Well Miss . . .Kate Jones, if you tell me what year your looking for maybe I can help you."
"1988."
"I know it well. I graduated from here that year."
"Loved it to much to leave?"
"I guess you could say that. Here it is."
He handed her the book and she began to look through it. Finally she came upon the senior class and flipped to the B's. Her finger stopped and her heart sank as she found the name she was looking for. Same Brown eyes, same brown hair . . .
Emily Theresa Brown.
Matt notice her halt in the search and looked over her shoulder at the name.
"I knew Emily. It really is a shame what happened to her."
"What do you mean?"
Sydney watched as he looked at his feet and shook his head.
"She and her parents were driving up to Stanford, she was supposed go there, when some drunk hit them. All three were killed on impact. It was tragic really. Nice girl."
She stared in shock at the picture for a moment, if this wasn't really Emily, then . . .
"Do you remember the name of the last person to access these records?"
The man looked at the list and found the name.
"Yeah, Sam Stevens."
"Do you think you could describe him for me?"
"Well, he was a little shorter than you, maybe 5'9", had dark brown hair and eyes. He spoke in some sort of a Russian accent. Terribly pale. I believe that was nearly two years ago."
Sark.
Looking closely, she noticed that Emily's picture was not the same as the rest, the background was solid unlike the fabric of the others.
*You see, you were right. They got to him. *
If anyone had been watching closely, they would have seen her jaw tighten and her eyes grow dark. He had not willingly given up on her, he had been a target from the beginning. She never thought Sloane could do anything to hurt her more than he already had, but this only served to increase her anger towards him.
She slammed the book shut, set it on the desk and began to briskly walk out of the room.
"Wait! Kate, did you find your friend?"
She responded without turning around.
"Not pictured."
Finally making it back to her car she slammed her palms on the steering wheel and let out a scream. One man was responsible for all of the pain in her life. He had stolen Danny. He had stolen Francie. He had stolen two years of her life. And now he had stolen Vaughn.
She was going to find him. And when she did, she would not hesitate to take back everything he had stolen.
-
-
-
-How's that for thickening the plot. I am really loving this story line, I have so many ideas running through my head right now it's ridiculous. I'm not a huge fan of the therapy thing, but I needed some way to stress the point further. You can never have enough angst. So let me know what you think . . .review like mad people. I will update ASAP.
-The reviews are absolutely wonderful, keep them coming! A big shout out to any NSA members keeping up with this : ) (haha)
-
-
-
Once upon a time, they called me the bleeder
Swimming up this river, its sentimental fever
But this ain't my first try it ain't my last try, just got to keep moving on
If they catch me ever, they'll throw me back forever
-The Bleeder, The Wallflowers
-
"Agent Bristow, nice to see you again."
Sydney did her best to offer a warm smile to Dr. Barnett as she shook her hand and took a seat on the couch.
"Agent Vaughn, it's been a while."
"Yes, it has."
Vaughn gave her a smug nod and followed Sydney onto the couch. Dr. Barnett took note of the fact that Sydney had purposely sat so she was nearly falling off the seat, yet Vaughn ignored the gesture and sat in the middle.
"I know that the two of you are probably wondering why you're here. As you know, this meeting was not ordered by Kendall, but I requested it on my own inquiry."
"May I ask why?"
"Agent Bristow, I know that you have refused my offer to attend sessions outside of the regression-therapy and are not fond of this practice. But the two of you have been through quite a lot during the past two months, or should I say years. Agent Vaughn was a regular in my office for a little more than a year after your . . .disappearance and I felt obligated to follow up on the situation."
Sydney shot a glance at Vaughn, who held a steady gaze at the corner of Barnetts desk. She sighed aloud, finding the meeting tedious and unnecessary.
"I do not intend to be rude, Dr. Barnett, but there is no need to follow up. There is nothing that needs to be said that hasn't already. Agent Vaughn and I have come to terms with the . . .situation, and this meeting will essentially end up to be pointless."
Dr. Barnett smiled at Sydney and turned to Vaughn whose eyes had not removed from the corner of the desk. She began again in a tone that conveyed her knowledge that neither had 'come to terms' with the 'situation'.
"With all due respect, Agent Bristow, I find that hard to believe. The two of you have been raising eyebrows at the agency because of your unprecedented relationship for quite some time.
"I was made aware of Agent Vaughns emotional attachment when I met with him concerning the Christmas gift he had given you. And after you spoke so adamantly of the search efforts to find him rather than your mothers reappearance I realized that the feelings were mutual. Following the fall of the alliance, the two of you began a romantic relationship, is the correct?"
Sydney looked at the ground, doing whatever she could to hide the emotions playing on her face due to the rehash of their relationship. She knew he was watching her, that he knew what she was feeling. Thankfully, he took the liberty of answering this question.
"Yes. Yes we did."
"And how long did this relationship last?"
Again, he answered, this time with a voice that sounded recorded, as if he had memorized the answer and repeated it over and over.
"Three months."
"I see. Am I to assume that the two of you were . . ."
"Happy? Ridiculously. But that question is redundant, we have been over this more than once, Dr. Barnett"
She looked at him, shocked at his open manner. She too felt the same way about their relationship, but had not expected him to be so blatant.
"Of course. You disappeared without a trace and now you're back only to find that Agent Vaughn has married."
The words cut like glass, and she shook her head, silently willing herself to keep it together.
"There was no breakup, no closure for you Agent Bristow. You come back and the man you . . . loved?"
She knew what Barnett was asking, and had been fully prepared to answer. Quickly she replied, her voice firm and more than convincing.
"Love."
"The man you love had moved on. There was no closure, no . . ."
Both women looked up in shock as Vaughn leapt from his seat and began to pace the room, abruptly stopping to look Barnett straight in the eye.
"What is it you want me to say? I think that it is painfully obvious that I still love Sydney, that every time I look at my wife I am reminded that I did something I swore I would never do, I gave up on her. And that hurts . . .it hurts like *hell *. Would you like to rub it in some more?"
Dr. Barnett stared at the young man, whom she thought she had begun to know but was apparently wrong. After gaining composure she tried to answer the accusation.
"Agent Vaughn, I was merely . . ."
"No . . .I don't have to be here, I don't have to listen to this. I have things to do. I'm sorry Sydney."
All she could manage was a nod. He stared at Barnett for a moment longer and then briskly existed leaving Sydney on her own.
"That was so . . .unlike him."
"Your disappearance was a difficult time on Agent Vaughn."
Stifling a laugh, she matched the stare Vaughn had given the woman. Vaughn was not the victim, she was. Her life had been turned upside down unwillingly, he on the other hand had chosen his fate. He had known that, so why wouldn't Dr. Barnett give in as well? She too was tired of listening to the woman.
"Are we done?"
The doctor shook her head, made a note or two before she looked back up at Sydney and nodded. Slowly she stood, walked over to the desk and ripped the paper out of the yellow pad, smiled and exited the room.
*
It was nine o'clock in the morning and Sydney sat on her couch staring at a slip of paper.
*You have to do this, you cannot whimp out now. *
Sighing, she finally ended the battle in her head as she stood up to leave. Grabbing her purse, she headed towards the door, and reached to open it only to find it opening in her face.
"Weiss?"
"Hey Syd. I need to borrow your laptop."
Nonchalantly he walked into her home and took a seat on the barstool. Eventually he noticed she was dressed to leave.
"Where are you going?"
"Out."
"Fine don't tell me."
"Why do you need my laptop?"
"I, well, I kind of spilt sprite on it. You know, that new remix stuff. Well, it isn't really new to me, but to you, and let me tell you, it is just beyond great. So anyway the keyboards all sticky."
She laughed at him and nodded towards the couch.
"Go ahead. But don't even consider keeping a beverage anywhere near it."
"Wouldn't think of it."
"I've got to go."
"Alright, see you later."
*
She turned off the car stereo as she began driving down familiar roads. It had been so long since she returned to where she had grown up, and once pleasant memories were now painful. That's the home where my dad taught me to be a spy when I was six. That's the ice cream shop my murdering mother took me when dad was out of town. Everything had changed, and that was something that she couldn't forgive her mother for.
Finally she reached her destination and sat in her car for a moment and just watched. Teenage kids were exiting and entering the school, carrying various books and backpacks, laughing with their friends. Part of her began to wish she was one of those kids, that her worst problems were the boy who said he liked her but kissed her best friend at some party.
She walked the few feet to the front of the school and swung the door open. It had obviously been renovated since she was a high schooler, the paint was fairly new and the floors were surprisingly clean tile.
Approaching the desk she plastered on her best smile and greeted the young lady who looked reasonably bored clicking aimlessly on the computer in front of her.
"Can I help you?"
"I sure hope so. My friend is turning thirty next week and I am trying to put together a bit of a scrap book for her. She won't let me near any of her Highschool photos so I was wondering if you had a yearbook archive of some sort."
"Aww, that's sweet. Let me get Matt, I'm sure he can help you."
The woman got up and headed toward the back room and returned with a man about her own age with her, who proceeded to look her up and down, quite blatantly at that.
"I hear you need a yearbook."
"And I hear you can help me."
"Right this way ma'am."
He grinned at her and she followed him out of the room and down a long set of stairs. At the end of a long hallway he opened a door revealing a small room with shelves stacked with tall hardback books.
"You'll find everything you need in here. I am going to have to ask you to sign this though, we keep a record of everyone who accesses the yearbooks. Not a long list."
"I can see that."
Sydney reached for the pen and signed the sheet, resuming a familiar alias.
"Well Miss . . .Kate Jones, if you tell me what year your looking for maybe I can help you."
"1988."
"I know it well. I graduated from here that year."
"Loved it to much to leave?"
"I guess you could say that. Here it is."
He handed her the book and she began to look through it. Finally she came upon the senior class and flipped to the B's. Her finger stopped and her heart sank as she found the name she was looking for. Same Brown eyes, same brown hair . . .
Emily Theresa Brown.
Matt notice her halt in the search and looked over her shoulder at the name.
"I knew Emily. It really is a shame what happened to her."
"What do you mean?"
Sydney watched as he looked at his feet and shook his head.
"She and her parents were driving up to Stanford, she was supposed go there, when some drunk hit them. All three were killed on impact. It was tragic really. Nice girl."
She stared in shock at the picture for a moment, if this wasn't really Emily, then . . .
"Do you remember the name of the last person to access these records?"
The man looked at the list and found the name.
"Yeah, Sam Stevens."
"Do you think you could describe him for me?"
"Well, he was a little shorter than you, maybe 5'9", had dark brown hair and eyes. He spoke in some sort of a Russian accent. Terribly pale. I believe that was nearly two years ago."
Sark.
Looking closely, she noticed that Emily's picture was not the same as the rest, the background was solid unlike the fabric of the others.
*You see, you were right. They got to him. *
If anyone had been watching closely, they would have seen her jaw tighten and her eyes grow dark. He had not willingly given up on her, he had been a target from the beginning. She never thought Sloane could do anything to hurt her more than he already had, but this only served to increase her anger towards him.
She slammed the book shut, set it on the desk and began to briskly walk out of the room.
"Wait! Kate, did you find your friend?"
She responded without turning around.
"Not pictured."
Finally making it back to her car she slammed her palms on the steering wheel and let out a scream. One man was responsible for all of the pain in her life. He had stolen Danny. He had stolen Francie. He had stolen two years of her life. And now he had stolen Vaughn.
She was going to find him. And when she did, she would not hesitate to take back everything he had stolen.
-
-
-
-How's that for thickening the plot. I am really loving this story line, I have so many ideas running through my head right now it's ridiculous. I'm not a huge fan of the therapy thing, but I needed some way to stress the point further. You can never have enough angst. So let me know what you think . . .review like mad people. I will update ASAP.
