-I know, it took me forever to update again . . .but I think that you will
like this chapter. It is relatively short however and I apologize, but
again I believe you will like it : )
-Big shout outs to Jen, Crystal-Rose, Twin-Muse, and whomever else is reading this (not looking at the right comp right now . . .) The reviews are great, keep them coming!
-
-
Spies came out of the water
And your feeling so bad cause you know
That spies hide out in every corner
You can't touch them, no
Cause there all spies
-Coldplay, Spies
-
Michael Vaughn exited the elevator and began quickly walking towards his car, though he had no idea why. Weiss had sounded desperate on the phone, so he knew something must be wrong, but what could have happened that needed him to get home so quickly? His voice wouldn't have sounded so frantic if it was Emily, so it had to be . . .
No. He shook his head in response to the thought he almost had and unlocked the car door. Just as he pulled out of the parking garage his cell began ringing. Picking it up, the I.D. read 'unknown'.
"Vaughn."
"Hello Michael."
He froze as he heard the voice at the other end. The voice was unmistakable, a voice that try as he might he would never forget.
"Irina. I heard you were in town."
"Don't try and trace this because you can't."
"What do you want."
"I know that I am the last person you want to talk to right now, but I am not exactly pleased with you either. You have caused my daughter great pain in the past few months."
"Well maybe if you had TOLD somebody what you knew then . . ."
"Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn, but I don't believe you know what it's like to be caged up in that prison block like a rat. It's most certainly not how I wish to spend the rest of my life."
"You could have found a way to contact me, you could have done *something *!"
"What's done is done, Michael, and I did not call in hopes of dwelling on the past."
"I'm not in the mood for your cryptic bullshit Irina."
"Your wife, Emily I think it is, she looks a lot like Sydney, no?"
"I've never really thought about it."
"Like hell you haven't. Same long brown hair, deep chocolate eyes, face structure, height . . ."
"What are you getting at?"
He can hear her laugh on the other end, although he does not find anything about the conversation funny."
"I don't know who you remind me more of, William or Jack. Never willing to look at what is right in front of you. Keep in mind, Michael, that there is no such thing as coincidences."
And then the line went dead.
"Damnit!"
Throwing the phone into the seat next to him, he pushed the push the speed limit. He had no idea what was waiting for him at home, but he wasn't taking any chances.
**
"Vaughn?"
Sydney stood in front of his door and knocked again, praying to anyone listening that a brunette would not greet her at the door.
"Vaughn?"
Hearing no movement inside the house, she gave the hallway one last glance and began to pick the lock. She had to laugh when she realized that if she weren't so stubborn this wouldn't be necessary, she would have had a key.
Finally she heard a click and turned the knob, taking one last breath before she stepped in side. They had been together for almost three months, yet she had never made it inside his apartment. Shutting the door as quietly as she could, her eyes scanned the room in front of her. What she found surprised her.
The walls were starch white and the furniture was black leather. The oversized TV was set on a tasteful black metal stand, which was stuffed with CD's and old tapes. There wasn't a plant in the room, or picture frames for that matter. It wasn't that the room didn't remind her of Vaughn, it did. What surprised her was that there was no evidence that this man had a wife. Everything was dark, there was no color aside from his blue and red hockey stick sitting in the corner.
Then she reminded her self that a wife didn't live here, an agent did. She had no idea how she was going to tell this to Vaughn if she found no evidence; she just had to hope he would believe her.
Taking another deep breath, she took a determined step forward and headed towards the bedroom. If entering his apartment had been hard, entering his room had been near impossible. Correction, *their * room. Doing what she could to shake the thoughts running through her mind, she walked towards the open closet door.
Immediately she was greeted with his smell, and things became that much harder. Standing on her toes, she reached to the top shelf and moved her hands around until she found a file folder. Opening it, she shifted through finding nothing but old receipts. Placing back on the shelf among the sweaters, she retreated from the closet.
Next she went to the nightstand. Nothing. And then the trunk by the window. Again, nothing. Frustrated she eyed the bed and kneeled down next to it. After letting her hands roam blindly underneath mattress, she finally hit something. She pulled out the object and found herself looking at an old shoebox, one that had obviously seen its share of use. Taking another deep breath she grabbed the lid, and what she found inside broke her heart.
Lying on top was a picture frame that she recognized all to well, with a photo of her and Vaughn inside. She had never noticed the frame had gone missing, and the fact he had kept it nearly brought tears to her eyes. The picture was one they had taken after playing hockey for the first time, and she had never seen a bigger smile on either of their faces.
Lifting the picture frame, she came upon more reminders of their relationship. A stub from a movie they had seen, the tickets from their first Kings game, a receipt from their first real dinner date. Underneath all that she found items from before the fall of the alliance. His flight ticket from their trip to the Vatican, the map she had given him from the SD-6 break-in, a screwdriver. Wiping viscously at the tears that had begun to fall, she picked up the watch, his fathers watch. After looking at it a moment, she set it down and picked up a sheet of paper lying next to it. A choked sob escaped her mouth when she realized it was the confirmation for their trip to Santa Barbara. But it was what she found next that made her want to scream.
Beneath where the confirmation had been, was a small square velvet box.
Before she had the chance to open, she heard the all too familiar click of a gun no more than two feet from behind her.
"Well if it isn't the legendary Sydney Bristow. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Whipping her head around, she found Emily, or whoever the woman was, standing before her with a gun aimed directly at her.
"I believe we've met before."
"No, you met Emily, the perfect little house wife I have had to be for the past two years."
"You didn't have to take this assignment."
"That's where your wrong, Miss Bristow. When Arvin Sloane offers you a job you don't refuse. He trained you, and you turned out to be quite the spy."
"He ruined my life."
"No, you ruined your own life. You were to soft, fell into all of this patriotic crap. It's always been a mystery as to why someone with your potential would give it all up for their country."
"Its called loyalty, something I'm sure you don't know anything about."
"So they were right, you are a quick one. You know, everyone here adores you. Sydney this, Sydney that. I've heard more about you in the past few years than I bargained for. It really is quite a shame, they all see you as a saint when all you ever did was ruin their lives. I'm right, aren't I? I mean first Danny, then Will, and poor innocent Francie. And we mustn't forget Michael."
"Don't."
"Don't what, Syd? It must kill knowing the man you love left you behind. He says your name in his sleep, do you know that? I haven't told him, of course, Emily would never be the one to start something."
"You disgust me."
"Likewise."
Emily nods towards the box and lets out a small laugh.
"I find it funny that he was probably going to pop the question in Santa Barbara, don't you? How about that irony. Gets you every time doesn't it. Too bad he'll never get the chance to give it to you."
"Sloane wouldn't want me dead."
"Well, it's to bad that you stabbed him then isn't it? I'm good at what I do, too. Your not the only one who knows how to double cross Sloane. I witnessed the whole thing, I was sitting behind a sniper just in case anything went wrong, but I wanted the man dead as much as you did."
"Why not kill me then?"
"Your pal Weiss was too close, I had to wait until he wasn't looking to leave. It's just an added plus that you got the see the ring. And as much as I would love to sit around and chat, I really have to do this before my husband gets home. Goodbye, Sydney."
Sydney watches as a smile appears on Emily's face and her finger begins to tug on the trigger.
And then she hears the shot.
-
-
-
-Cliffhangers are great, don't you think? For those of you who just cannot wait for the next chapter, which may be a while due to exams, go and read the first chapter of my fic Sorry for a hint. Frankly, I think what happens is a bit predictable, but then again I did write it. Review like crazy people, and I might get this done tonight.
-Big shout outs to Jen, Crystal-Rose, Twin-Muse, and whomever else is reading this (not looking at the right comp right now . . .) The reviews are great, keep them coming!
-
-
Spies came out of the water
And your feeling so bad cause you know
That spies hide out in every corner
You can't touch them, no
Cause there all spies
-Coldplay, Spies
-
Michael Vaughn exited the elevator and began quickly walking towards his car, though he had no idea why. Weiss had sounded desperate on the phone, so he knew something must be wrong, but what could have happened that needed him to get home so quickly? His voice wouldn't have sounded so frantic if it was Emily, so it had to be . . .
No. He shook his head in response to the thought he almost had and unlocked the car door. Just as he pulled out of the parking garage his cell began ringing. Picking it up, the I.D. read 'unknown'.
"Vaughn."
"Hello Michael."
He froze as he heard the voice at the other end. The voice was unmistakable, a voice that try as he might he would never forget.
"Irina. I heard you were in town."
"Don't try and trace this because you can't."
"What do you want."
"I know that I am the last person you want to talk to right now, but I am not exactly pleased with you either. You have caused my daughter great pain in the past few months."
"Well maybe if you had TOLD somebody what you knew then . . ."
"Excuse me, Mr. Vaughn, but I don't believe you know what it's like to be caged up in that prison block like a rat. It's most certainly not how I wish to spend the rest of my life."
"You could have found a way to contact me, you could have done *something *!"
"What's done is done, Michael, and I did not call in hopes of dwelling on the past."
"I'm not in the mood for your cryptic bullshit Irina."
"Your wife, Emily I think it is, she looks a lot like Sydney, no?"
"I've never really thought about it."
"Like hell you haven't. Same long brown hair, deep chocolate eyes, face structure, height . . ."
"What are you getting at?"
He can hear her laugh on the other end, although he does not find anything about the conversation funny."
"I don't know who you remind me more of, William or Jack. Never willing to look at what is right in front of you. Keep in mind, Michael, that there is no such thing as coincidences."
And then the line went dead.
"Damnit!"
Throwing the phone into the seat next to him, he pushed the push the speed limit. He had no idea what was waiting for him at home, but he wasn't taking any chances.
**
"Vaughn?"
Sydney stood in front of his door and knocked again, praying to anyone listening that a brunette would not greet her at the door.
"Vaughn?"
Hearing no movement inside the house, she gave the hallway one last glance and began to pick the lock. She had to laugh when she realized that if she weren't so stubborn this wouldn't be necessary, she would have had a key.
Finally she heard a click and turned the knob, taking one last breath before she stepped in side. They had been together for almost three months, yet she had never made it inside his apartment. Shutting the door as quietly as she could, her eyes scanned the room in front of her. What she found surprised her.
The walls were starch white and the furniture was black leather. The oversized TV was set on a tasteful black metal stand, which was stuffed with CD's and old tapes. There wasn't a plant in the room, or picture frames for that matter. It wasn't that the room didn't remind her of Vaughn, it did. What surprised her was that there was no evidence that this man had a wife. Everything was dark, there was no color aside from his blue and red hockey stick sitting in the corner.
Then she reminded her self that a wife didn't live here, an agent did. She had no idea how she was going to tell this to Vaughn if she found no evidence; she just had to hope he would believe her.
Taking another deep breath, she took a determined step forward and headed towards the bedroom. If entering his apartment had been hard, entering his room had been near impossible. Correction, *their * room. Doing what she could to shake the thoughts running through her mind, she walked towards the open closet door.
Immediately she was greeted with his smell, and things became that much harder. Standing on her toes, she reached to the top shelf and moved her hands around until she found a file folder. Opening it, she shifted through finding nothing but old receipts. Placing back on the shelf among the sweaters, she retreated from the closet.
Next she went to the nightstand. Nothing. And then the trunk by the window. Again, nothing. Frustrated she eyed the bed and kneeled down next to it. After letting her hands roam blindly underneath mattress, she finally hit something. She pulled out the object and found herself looking at an old shoebox, one that had obviously seen its share of use. Taking another deep breath she grabbed the lid, and what she found inside broke her heart.
Lying on top was a picture frame that she recognized all to well, with a photo of her and Vaughn inside. She had never noticed the frame had gone missing, and the fact he had kept it nearly brought tears to her eyes. The picture was one they had taken after playing hockey for the first time, and she had never seen a bigger smile on either of their faces.
Lifting the picture frame, she came upon more reminders of their relationship. A stub from a movie they had seen, the tickets from their first Kings game, a receipt from their first real dinner date. Underneath all that she found items from before the fall of the alliance. His flight ticket from their trip to the Vatican, the map she had given him from the SD-6 break-in, a screwdriver. Wiping viscously at the tears that had begun to fall, she picked up the watch, his fathers watch. After looking at it a moment, she set it down and picked up a sheet of paper lying next to it. A choked sob escaped her mouth when she realized it was the confirmation for their trip to Santa Barbara. But it was what she found next that made her want to scream.
Beneath where the confirmation had been, was a small square velvet box.
Before she had the chance to open, she heard the all too familiar click of a gun no more than two feet from behind her.
"Well if it isn't the legendary Sydney Bristow. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Whipping her head around, she found Emily, or whoever the woman was, standing before her with a gun aimed directly at her.
"I believe we've met before."
"No, you met Emily, the perfect little house wife I have had to be for the past two years."
"You didn't have to take this assignment."
"That's where your wrong, Miss Bristow. When Arvin Sloane offers you a job you don't refuse. He trained you, and you turned out to be quite the spy."
"He ruined my life."
"No, you ruined your own life. You were to soft, fell into all of this patriotic crap. It's always been a mystery as to why someone with your potential would give it all up for their country."
"Its called loyalty, something I'm sure you don't know anything about."
"So they were right, you are a quick one. You know, everyone here adores you. Sydney this, Sydney that. I've heard more about you in the past few years than I bargained for. It really is quite a shame, they all see you as a saint when all you ever did was ruin their lives. I'm right, aren't I? I mean first Danny, then Will, and poor innocent Francie. And we mustn't forget Michael."
"Don't."
"Don't what, Syd? It must kill knowing the man you love left you behind. He says your name in his sleep, do you know that? I haven't told him, of course, Emily would never be the one to start something."
"You disgust me."
"Likewise."
Emily nods towards the box and lets out a small laugh.
"I find it funny that he was probably going to pop the question in Santa Barbara, don't you? How about that irony. Gets you every time doesn't it. Too bad he'll never get the chance to give it to you."
"Sloane wouldn't want me dead."
"Well, it's to bad that you stabbed him then isn't it? I'm good at what I do, too. Your not the only one who knows how to double cross Sloane. I witnessed the whole thing, I was sitting behind a sniper just in case anything went wrong, but I wanted the man dead as much as you did."
"Why not kill me then?"
"Your pal Weiss was too close, I had to wait until he wasn't looking to leave. It's just an added plus that you got the see the ring. And as much as I would love to sit around and chat, I really have to do this before my husband gets home. Goodbye, Sydney."
Sydney watches as a smile appears on Emily's face and her finger begins to tug on the trigger.
And then she hears the shot.
-
-
-
-Cliffhangers are great, don't you think? For those of you who just cannot wait for the next chapter, which may be a while due to exams, go and read the first chapter of my fic Sorry for a hint. Frankly, I think what happens is a bit predictable, but then again I did write it. Review like crazy people, and I might get this done tonight.
