Disclaimer: I would like to declare that I do not own anything to do with Alias, except the videos that I taped the episodes onto. Actually, I'm not even sure if I own those either, they might be my parents'.
SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN
A plane flew across the jet-black sky; it's lights the only signs of its presence. That, and the fire streaming out of one of the engines. The plane began a graceful dive into the ocean. It seemed to take an eternity to fall, sending up an explosion of water as it broke the surface.
It's a good thing that Sydney wasn't on that plane.
About 50 miles north of the crash site, another plane drifted across the sky in a way that looked completely impossible. The fact that planes actually stay in the air (with the exception of the one that just crashed) has always confused me. I've been told the theory behind it many a time, but I still can't grasp how a glorified tin can stays aloft. Best not to think about it. Anyway…
Sydney leaned back into the comfortable headrest of her business class seat and sighed. Several businessmen seriously lacking in social lives had already attempted conversation with her. Sydney might have been interested if they hadn't been talking about tax fraud and company politics. These were the kinds of people who had the current figures from the stock market constantly displaying in the top corner of the laptop they would have surgically grafted to their hands if it were possible. Sad is not a strong enough word. She had forced a smile and pointedly shoved a set of headphones into her ears.
She mentally replayed her meeting with Vaughn, the one where he explained her counter-mission. If this was a TV show, there would a convenient fading out, coupled with a flashback scene.
That can be arranged.
*
It was another dark and stormy night. Okay, maybe it was just dark. Close enough. Anyway, instead of going out and having fun, like any normal person would, Sydney Bristow and Michael Vaughn were once again leaning against the crates in an abandoned warehouse. Maybe that would count as "having fun" to a really pathetic person, but it'd be close. Vaughn reached into his jacket pocket and handed Sydney a small box. Sydney took it, studied it for a minute, then pulled it open.
Inside was a glittering diamond ring. Sydney's lower lip trembled. "Michael, I…" she started. Vaughn's eyes widened, and he snatched the box back off her.
"Sorry," he said, snapping it closed and shoving it back in his pocket. He pulled out an identical box from a different pocket. "Wrong pocket," he offered as explanation, handing the second box over. Sydney took it absently, still looking at Vaughn.
"Why are you carrying around a diamond ring?" she asked suspiciously. Vaughn shifted his feet and looked uncomfortable. Well, more so than usual.
"I don't really know," he said sheepishly, looking at his feet. "I must have taken the wrong jacket… you know everyone's suit looks the same!" Sydney's eyes narrowed, but she kept quiet. She turned the new box over in her hands.
"What is it?" she asked. Vaughn shrugged.
"A doohickey," he said, looking bored. "You attach it to stuff. Or, in this case, stick stuff in it." Sydney nodded.
"I can do that," she said, pocketing the box. She turned on her heel and stalked off towards her car. Vaughn sent some longing (and possibly Meaningful) Looks at her retreating back.
*
The flight attendant walked down the aisle next to Sydney's chair, pushing a drinks cart in front of her. The cart crashed painfully into Sydney's arm. Sydney glared.
"I'm sorry," said the flight attendant in a bland voice that clearly showed that she wasn't. She flounced off down the aisle, muttering audibly using words like "arrogant" and "conceited". Sydney glared at her retreating back, and grinned in vicious pleasure when the flight attendant tripped. Karma makes the world go round…
The plane landed without a hitch, and Sydney gathered her bag. She walked confidently out of the airport and to the waiting car. Next stop- the Contrivance building.
*
I never understand how this works. One would think that when you're undercover, you should be inconspicuous. So I'll never understand why Sydney chose to wear a dress that had a split practically up to her neck and a neckline that would have reached her navel. Subtle. Top it all off with a bright red wig, and she'll blend right in. Sydney flounced dramatically into the party and walked right out the back door. No one noticed a thing. Perhaps the bright pink elephant tap dancing on the roof next door had something to do with that. Anyway…
Sydney walked up to the video camera and carefully fitted the filter on it. It continued to pan around the room merrily, completely oblivious. At least, Sydney hoped it was completely oblivious. Things could be bad if it wasn't.
Very bad.
Best not to think about that either. Where were we….? Oh yes. Sydney was stalking down the corridor. She paused in front of a doorway, pulling a lock pick from her necklace of detachable thingummyjigs and inserted it carefully into the lock. She tweaked the pick a little, smiling slightly at the click.
By the way, it was a click of the lock unlocking, not of a gun cocking or anything like that. I doubt that Sydney would smile at that.
The door swung open, revealing a room of extremely poor taste. As if you would mix 18th century classique with shabby chic! It just goes against all interior-decorating laws! Imbeciles. Anyway, in the middle of the room, clashing uncomfortably with the antique furniture (complete with those little curvy legs), was a large spinning wheel.
Large, like the Statue of Liberty is large.
An annoying fact about Rambaldi is that he failed to include accurate scales in the diagrams of his creations, so when the artisan came to construct it (for Rambaldi's were artist's hands, not for idle labour), the poor bugger didn't know whether to make it three inches tall or three feet tall. So he decided to err on the side of caution, and build everything huge. But I digress…
So the spinning wheel was obviously too big to fit in Sydney's classy yet affordable, decorative yet practical Gucci handbag. Time for plan two- taking a sample of the thread. Only one problem- how does one use a spinning wheel?
I don't know how to. Let's face it, it's not exactly a common skill, nor is it a useful beer trick. "Oh, I can tie a cherry stem into a knot in my mouth. What can you do?" "I can use a spinning wheel." Doesn't really work. So it's completely understandable that Sydney wouldn't know how to use one either.
Luckily for her, there was a plot device box of samples waiting, unlocked, on the table. Sydney snapped on a pair of latex gloves and carefully extracted a single sample. She laid it gently into the CIA box and snapped the box closed. Then she grabbed another thread, dunked it repeatedly into the glass of wine someone had left on the table, threw it on the floor and ground her stiletto heel onto it for good measure. Then she snatched it off the ground, threw it haphazardly into the SD-6 box, snapped shut the lid, and dropped both boxes back into her handbag. She gave her earring a slight twist.
"Dixon? I'm done," she said to an apparently empty room. Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. Before we can question Sydney's sanity however, a tinny voice came back, emanating from the diamante earring in Sydney's left earlobe.
"Good work Bluebird. I'll be waiting at the extraction point."
Sydney walked back out through the door, making care to lock it again behind her. She strode past the security cameras, plucked the filter from the lens and kept on walking. The little red LED on the camera blinked on, revealing to the casual observer that the surveillance system had never actually been turned on. We wont tell Sydney that though.
A few hours later Sydney was back on the plane, flying over the ocean, still completely unaware of the catastrophic accident a couple miles south.
Author's Note:
I don't know whether this chapter was as funny as the first one, but hey, you get that. Variety is the spice of life, and all that crap. I should probably mention here that I am in the midst of my final exams, and the fact that I've actually had the time to write anything is a notable event.
Thanks for all the reviews- I'm so stoked that everyone likes this! I actually have a plotline in here- a serious one too- and some of the major points have been revealed already. So there you go. Hopefully that piqued your interest.
