Coach Class
Disclaimer:
I do not own Alias; ABC, Bad Robot Productions and JJ Abrams do, and I give
full acknowledgement of that (good work guys). I do not own and am not affiliated
in any way, with the brands mentioned in this piece (such as Ford, BWM or Colt),
more than likely I've used them because they're known, or because they're very
nice bits of kit that I hope to have one day. Finally, I'm a student, don't
sue me, I've got nothing worth taking.
Authors note:
Originally, this was going to be part of a much larger chapter, but after writing it, the passage seemed huge compared to the rest of what I'd done, so I decided to cut it in half - I'll post the rest tomorrow if I get the chance.
Time frame:
None - Just generally set after Sydney becomes a double agent.
Unlike her last few trips to England, going direct from LAX to London Stanstead, Jack had told Sydney to fly to New York, and from there, fly to Glasgow, where she could then drive to a safe house he knew of in York.
At the time, she'd argued that it was a bit of an indirect route, but Vaughn had agreed with her father, saying that the most obscure and indirect routes are usually the safest, so she did as asked, and had been flown from LA to New York, where she would have a day to spend there, before her flight to Scotland two days afterwards.
Jack had said that it was the only flight he could get her on given the timeframe, despite the fact that a flight to Heathrow was leaving three hours after she landed. Vaughn however, had said that she deserved a day off to have a look around the big apple, and she appreciated that, as she'd wandered around the shops getting a gift or two for Francie, and a few things for herself, before returning to her hotel room for the evening.
Even though she knew that no-one knew what was waiting for her when she would arrive in the UK, as she boarded the plane, Sydney Bristow was rather calm, not worrying whether the little jamming device in the pen, she carried in her pocket would deceive the Metal Detector, so she'd be able to carry a gun on board the plane, or that for the first time in a very long time, she was flying coach, not business class.
And so, the plane took off, on its 10 hour trip to Glasgow International Airport, as she sat in the cramped, crowded, coach section, dutifully flicking through the in-flight magazine and going over the safety pamphlet that had been tucked away in the pocket in front of her, knowing that if the plane hit the water at 400mph, being in a crash position would probably not help that much.
Time ticked away and however
slowly, hours passed, and the pilot announced that they were within 1 hour of
Glasgow Airport, stirring a dozing Ms Bristow from her sleep.
Rubbing the
sleep from her eyes, Sydney opened the window blind, and looked out on to the
lights that were the Scottish coast, glad that in 60 minutes, she'd be off the
plane and able to stretch her legs without kicking anything, and without the shrill
shrieks of a crying baby in the background.
As she began to stretch, an air hostess pushed a trolley by, asking if anyone wanted a drink, and for a second, Sydney wondered how they did it, how they always seemed happy and chirpy when everyone else felt like hell both physically and mentally.
"Miss? Are you
alright?" the hostess asked, snatching Sydney from her moment of envy.
"Err... yes, sorry, do you have any ice water?" Sydney said, stuttering an apology, as she handed over a dollar bill for the drink, not receiving any change, but a small plastic cup, and a bottle of mineral water of similar size.
As the hostess trotted to the next aisle, Sydney looked at her purchase, and felt robbed, but decided not to dwell on it. She still had a job to do, and would need to be completely focused on the job if she was to succeed.
With the communications blackout in effect, it meant that she may not be able to contact anyone for help, neither SD-6 nor the CIA. No Guardian Angel to save me this time, she thought to herself, both laughing and caring deeply at the statement at the same time, so she sat down, eyes shut, not really thinking of anything but the mess of information in her head, picking out specific bits of information she might need.
After forty minutes of hard concentration, the captains' voice came on, saying that they'd just begun their decent into Glasgow airport, and that all passengers can stow away any luggage, return to their seats and fastened their seatbelts as she heard the mechanical whirring of the flaps repositioning themselves.
With her seat back upright, and her tray table locked in its normal position, Sydney watched through her window, as the lights of Glasgow shone in the darkness that was the early winter morning, as the landing gear lowered, and after a few minutes of circling, finally touched down to the cheers of everyone onboard, including herself.
10 hours sitting in the same place, with little to no room was not a nice feeling, especially when you got your body moving again.
As the plane rolled off the runway towards the terminal building, Sydney unfastened her seatbelt like everyone else, and retrieved her backpack, complete with travelling tags, like a true tourist. She smiled for a second, almost thinking at how well forged it all looked, and then realising that it wasn't forged at all - it was in a sense, almost surreal that after many hundreds of flights to more countries than most people could name, she was for however short a time, a normal person, just like the person sitting in front of her, and the one sitting behind her.
Usually, a thought like this would keep her going all day, but for some reason, it failed to draw anything but a sigh.
When the time came to disembark, Sydney joined the crushing exodus that was, and slowly managed to get to the baggage handling depot, where, surprisingly, her bag was one of the first off.
Taking it as a sign of things to come, she grabbed the bag, and walked down to the car rental agency, where she picked up the keys to a metallic blue BMW 3-series, only to find that the lot it was parked in was about as far away as possible.
And so, after a 5 minute drive on the shuttle bus, she finally got to the car, dumping her bags in the boot, before getting in the drivers seat and taking off for York.
Since she had a few hours driving time ahead of her, she'd already decided to get some proper food, pulling into a Little Chef restaurant, in a nearby service station, greedily eyeing the Travel Inn motel next door, and for a few seconds, her knees went weak, and she just wanted to crash for a few hours.
Ignoring the need for sleep, she ate heartily, and drank at least 3 cups of strong, black coffee before resuming her travels to the safe house at York.
By the time she was nearing the English border, Sydney noticed that dawn was upon her, and had already begun to realise that she had a fair way to go yet. Sighing, she floored the accelerator, and the car picked up the pace immediately.
As she travelled, dawn became morning, and morning became midday as she finally pulled onto the drive of the safe house, realising that she'd driven for nearly 4 hours straight, in a foreign country on the wrong side of the road, yet she couldn't remember a second of it.
She ignored it, as she stepped out the car, wearing only a short sleeved top, and a pair of jeans, greeted by a sudden blast of cold air.
Grabbing her backpack, she ran to the front door, as fast as she could, remembering where her father had told her the key was, fumbling to get it in the lock, and stumbling in the door, to be met by warmth, and the unexpected sounds and smell of something cooking.
Shutting the heavy door as quietly as she could, Sydney dropped her pack on the floor, and crept forwards down the hall, towards what she thought was the kitchen, but her silent approach failed her, stepping on a creaky floorboard.
"We're in here" a voice shouted out.
Bemused, she just walked in just in time to get the shock of her life. "Vaughn, Weiss, what…?".