"Five Aliases that Could've Been"
Author: Waterdancer
Rating: PG-13 for language
Email: jch0578@yahoo.com
Feedback: Sure
Archive: Cover Me, Snarkgasm, Alias fic mailing list, fanfiction.net. Anyone else, ask.
Summary: Five alternate universe vignettes that could've happened. Inspired by Celli's "Five Aliases that Never Were"
Disclaimer: Any Alias related material is the property of JJ Abrams, ABC, and the big mouse. I make no money from this. 1.2 is a partial episode transcript from secret agent fan.
A/N: Thanks to Robin for the beta.
***
1.1-The more things change
"Who is she?" she asked, looking at the glossy 8 X 10 photographs.
"Her name is Allison Doren, or Alli, as she's known to her friends, Will Tippin and Sydney Bristow. She's 28, single, no known relatives in the immediate area, and she's just opened her own restaurant. You'll be taking her place."
"And what happens to her?" Francie asked as she continued to look at the pictures of Allison shopping.
"I'll leave that to your discretion, Francine. You've been at this long enough to know what needs to done. Isn't that correct?"
She stood up and placed the photographs back into the manila envelope. "As always, Mr. Sloane. Sark will contact you when I've been—transformed." She hated that her voice betrayed her hesitation about her new assignment; if it hadn't been for Sark's presence keeping her steady, she would've run out of there screaming.
Sloane, obviously sensing her doubts, stood up and walked towards her. "Francine, I know that you're concerned about your safety, and—"
"I'm not worried, Mr. Sloane," she said quickly.
"Please, let me finish. I just wanted to reassure you that Dr. Markovic will take good care of you, and if he doesn't, he'll be dealt with accordingly. "
She blinked several times and nodded slowly. "Thank you, Mr. Sloane."
"Please call me Arvin, Francine, and thank you for your sacrifice. I'll be in touch."
***
1.2 Kiss me like you mean it.
"Look at this," Francie said as she pulled out a jug of ice cream from the freezer and sat it on the counter next to will.
"Oooh."
Her eyes widened as she dug into the kitchen drawer for a big spoon. "I don't know what it is about tequila. It's like a trigger. The moment I have tequila, ice cream becomes a necessity. Like, if I don't have it, I'll die."
Will chuckled and continued to look at her. "Like oxygen?"
She smiled as she took a bite from her spoon. "You can say that. When I was a freshman in college, I went to a lot of parties but I never drank anything. I knew what went into the punch. There was one time, on the hottest day in September, I went to a frat party. I was going to have my usual—a glass of water. Unfortunately, the fraternities water quality left a lot to be desired. I was thirsty and I had left my money in my dorm room on the other side of the campus. So, I decided that this one time I would try the punch."
She shook her head. "It was more liquor than punch and I was totally drunk."
Will let out a loud chuckle and she laughed with him.
"It was a sad, sad day. I went to this twenty-four market, and bought three pints of chocolate chocolate chip ice cream."
"Is this story ever going to end, Fran?" he asked with a wink.
"Oh, hush," she replied, shooting a mock frown in his direction.
Handing him the bottle of chocolate sauce, she leaned against the counter while he squirted it on his ice cream sundae.
"Wow," he mumbled after taking a bite. "This is amazing."
"Is it?" Francie asked while she took another bite from her bowl.
"It is. You've gotta try it. It's a combination of chocolate and chips and it's genius."
"Okay," she said placing her mug next to her on the counter.
She held her breath while Will fed her the ice cream. "Wow," she whispered as the smooth cream slid down her throat. "That was amazing. Try mine."
As she took the spoon from her glass, she cursed under her breath as some of it dropped onto his shirt.
"Oh, God," she said quickly, her face turning red. She grabbed a paper towel. "I'm so sorry, Will."
He slid off of the counter with the ever present smile on his face. "Fran, don't worry about it. My shirt didn't have enough ice cream on it anyway. "
"Are you sure?" She raised her hand to blot at his shirt.
"I'm sure," he replied, taking her hand. "I'm fine."
"Good, because I was concerned. I didn't want to ruin your shirt and—"
Before she could finish her sentence, Will took her face into his hands and kissed her. Part of her felt like she was betraying Charlie's memory, but another part—the part that she tried to ignore when she was alone with Will--told her to just go with the flow.
As he broke the kiss, he looked down at her, his blue eyes searching her brown ones.
"Will," she started her voice barely audible.
"Shit," he mumbled. "I'm sorry, Fran. I shouldn't've---"
"Don't be sorry," she said, cutting him off, and placing her lips on his.
****
1.3-If the tables were turned.
"Sydney is like that girl in high school who was hot and didn't hesitate to let everyone know it," Sark said to his brother, who was looking up at him with an amused expression. "She won't take 'no' for an answer."
"So, of course, you told her 'no'," Vaughn said as he leaned back in his chair. "After all, she is a spy for SD-6, and you work for the US government undercover in SD-6."
"And that's precisely why I told her that we should meet for dinner at her place to discuss strategies regarding the next mission. Sloane trusts me implicitly while Sydney does not. She thinks that I'm untrustworthy," Sark said with a slight nod.
His brother guffawed and stood up. "You untrustworthy? Imagine that. Face it, Andrew- outside of Arvin Sloane and your operations prior to Sydney Bristow, mom is the only one who bought that innocent look. So, while you are talking 'strategies' be sure to watch your back. Sydney Bristow is not to be taken lightly."
"I realize that, Michael, you act as if I'm still a junior agent."
Vaughn stopped placing the latest documents from Sark's mission into a manila folder and looked at him.
"I'm sorry but you're still my kid brother. Mom's always hated the fact that I'm in the CIA, and then you followed behind me. You know how she feels about it," he said quietly as Sark felt an invisible hand clasp over his heart.
"Yes, I do," Sark replied, thinking about the father that he never knew. William Vaughn had been CIA agent killed in the line of duty while his wife had been pregnant with his youngest son. Michael had only been eight when it happened, and every day it seemed to bother him more than he let on.
"So, please, listen to me when I say watch your back. Okay?"
"You've got it."
"Good, now what are you taking over for wine? I hear Petreuse '82 was a good year."
***
1.4-What if it was me instead of you?
Diane leaned against the doorway and watched as her husband played a board game with their daughter. She could feel her earlier anger at being betrayed by everything she trusted come back like gangbusters. Arvin Sloane and what he made SD-6 out to be. Sydney Bristow and her lies about being an agent for SD-6. Diane frowned as she thought about her. The person who had started out as a partner and had become a close friend.
"Hey, you're home," her husband said as he looked up from the game. "Must've been a long meeting."
Diane felt a small smile spread on her face as she took in the tall form of her husband, Marcus. "Yeah, it was pretty long," she said softly. He looked up at her again and frowned. She knew that he could hear the difference in her voice. Normally, she always came home from a day with SD-6 on an adrenaline rush, because she thought she was helping her country. How wrong could I have been?
"Angela, go help your brother clean up the dishes," he said as he stood up. "We'll finish the game later."
Her daughter looked up at her and frowned. "Are you okay?"
Diane felt the hot tears that she'd been fighting since she found out that her entire world was a lie form in her eyes. "I'm fine, baby. Go help your brother."
The young girl shrugged and ran into the kitchen. Another sad smile formed on her face as she heard the water come on suddenly and her two children laugh loudly.
"Di, what's wrong?" Marcus asked suddenly. "Did something happen at the bank?"
The tears were starting to fall as she leaned her head back on the arch of the doorway. "You have no idea, Marcus."
"Why don't you try me?" he asked as he stood up from the table and walked towards her. "What's going on?"
Diane caught her breath as he stood in front of her with concern etched onto his smooth face. Fear hit her hard as she imagined his reaction when she told him the truth. SD-6 is not the CIA, and I've been lying to you for most of our marriage.
Even as she thought the words, she felt her body begin to shake. Regardless of what lies Arvin Sloane and Sydney Bristow had told her, she was the one who lied to her husband. That scared her more than any veiled threat that the CIA could toss at her.
"Diane, what's wrong?" he asked again, this time with more urgency. "You didn't lose your job did you?"
She felt a bitter chuckle bubble in her chest. "If it were only that simple, Marcus."
"Then what is it? Tell me what's going on?"
She blinked again and looked at him. "I've been lying to you. About my job. About what I do for a living."
"What are you talking about?" he said with a chuckle. "Are you not an account manager?"
She let out a loud sigh and steeled herself. "No, I'm not. I've never worked in a bank in my entire life."
"Then what do you do?"
"I work or rather I worked for an organization named SD-6, who led me to believe that they were a special division for the CIA."
"You worked for the CIA?" he asked incredulously. "Since when?"
This is where it gets bad. "SD-6 is not the CIA, Marcus. It never has been the CIA. The very people I thought I was fighting against were the people I was working for."
"What the hell are you talking about, Diane?"
"SD-6 is not the CIA; I've been working for criminals."
****
1.5-Just in time
She dropped the gun as the woman wearing her face fell to the kitchen floor blood flowing freely from her neck.
"Oh my God," she whispered. She felt bile from at the back of her throat. "Oh, my God."
"Francie!"
She looked up and saw Will running into the kitchen looking harried and concerned.
"Will? What—what are you doing here?"
He came to a stop as he saw the woman lying at her feet. "Are you okay, Francie?"
"I'm fine, but—Will, what are you doing here?"
He walked over to her and gripped her shoulders. "Do you remember what were talking about earlier during dinner?"
"Yeah. Yeah, we were talking about the kiss from the night before, and you said that some guy was watching me—Will, what the hell is going on?"
"Good, it is you. A month ago, you went to get your blood drawn, right?"
"Yeah, I told you about that and how that guy passed out in front of me."
"Do you remember what he looked like?"
"Blonde, blue-eyed. He looked a bit on the young side, but seemed older."
Will nodded his head in agreement. "Sounds like him."
Francie twisted her shoulders away from him. "Sounds like who, Will? What the hell is going on? Who was that woman?"
"That woman was your genetic double. Her name was Allison Doren."
"Genetic double? Like a clone?"
"In the barest sense, yeah. I didn't want to believe it until I saw a photo of her an hour ago."
"Why would someone want to clone me? I'm just Francie."
"Yeah, but you're also friends with Sydney."
"What does Sydney have to do with this?"
As if she could hear her, Sydney appeared in the open door of the kitchen. "Will, is everything—"
He held up his hand and looked over his shoulder at Sydney. "Everything's fine, Syd. This is definitely Francie."
Francie looked around Will's shoulders and her mouth hung open as she saw her best friend in camouflage and holding a large weapon.
"Good. We've got him in custody, and Kendall thinks that we should move Francie as quickly as possible."
"I'll take care of it," he said as he looked back at his girlfriend.
"Will—"she started again. "What is going on?"
He took a deep breath, and touched her cheek. "Francie, I work for the CIA."