Title: Into the Deep
Author: Jennifer Campbell
Fandom: Alias
Spoilers: General season 2
Pairings: Sydney/Danny, Sydney/Vaughn
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: The show Alias and its characters belong to people with a lot more money than I have. Please don't sue.

Notes: Sorry again for the big delay between posting chapters. I have an excuse this time. I got married, which, as anyone who has planned a wedding knows, takes up a ton of time. But it's all done with now, and I don't even have any new Alias episodes to watch until fall, so I'm back to writing. I need something to keep me going until next season and the explanation for that whopper for a cliff-hanger.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Even if you don't, please let me know what you think. I always love to hear your thoughts.

##

Sydney and her father said little on the short trip to the house, only enough to communicate Sydney's needs in packing her luggage. They moved quickly, with Jack repeatedly checking rooms before he would let her enter, and he rushed her out the door after only 10 minutes. Sydney didn't dare to object after seeing his urgency. She only hoped she had gathered everything she would need -- it was difficult to pack for a trip when she didn't know her destination.

As they drove to the airport, Los Angeles passing by outside the windows, Sydney almost feared to break the silence, as though doing so would bring her father's enemies down upon them. Jack for his part kept checking his mirrors. He made a few wrong turns and doubled back to throw off any possible pursuit.

To pass the time, she thought about what her mother and Vaughn had said about the Alliance, and about her father. It was hard to believe that Jack Bristow, whom she had always thought a simple salesman, was a double-agent. He lived the life of some fictitious character, yet he was real. Her father. She couldn't quite reconcile the conflict. Glancing sidelong at him, she considered several times bringing up the subject but decided against it. Talk of such things could wait for a later time, after they resolved the current crisis.

When they had almost reached the airport turnoff, Jack finally spoke, the quiet calm of his voice a contrast to the tension they both felt.

"Sydney, I'd like to talk for a moment."

She gave him a wary look. She knew that tone. He didn't use it often, but when he did, it usually meant he was about to broach a difficult subject.

"Talk about what?" she asked.

"I realize that you're not an agent, but what you're about to embark on is essentially a covert operation. As such, I feel I should warn you about certain dangers, beyond the obvious."

He glanced over at her, possibly waiting for a response, but Sydney kept quiet and schooled her expression into a blank slate that she hoped hid her fear and uncertainty. After what seemed several minutes -- but was closer to seconds -- Jack continued.

"When you are on an assignment, you tend to feel more free... less constrained by the rules of society and by your life at home. I have quite a lot of experience with this, and I can tell you that it's a liberating feeling, but also a dangerous one. Things have a way of ... happening."

"What sort of things? Dad, what are you talking about?"

"I'm telling you to always be on your guard, and to remember your life in Los Angeles and not to do anything that might jeopardize it."

"My life here? You mean with Danny? I --"

Sydney broke off, suddenly understanding the issue her father so skillfully danced around. She stared at him in disbelief.

"You're talking about Vaughn aren't you? You think I'll forget Danny and do something --"

"I never said that."

"I love Danny. He is never far from my thoughts, and I will never be disloyal to him."

"Sydney, you can interpret what I said any way you want. Just don't forget it."

They fell silent again, which was fine with Sydney because she didn't want to talk anymore, anyway. Her father had come close to questioning her devotion to Danny, which insulted her deeply. Were things different -- were she free -- she might allow something with Vaughn. But the point was moot. She had a husband, and that was it. Besides, after all that had happened, romance was the farthest thing from her mind.

She turned her face away from her father, looked out the passenger-side window as they circled around to the terminal. In these tense days, cars could pause long enough outside the terminals to drop off passengers and give quick good-byes, so Jack didn't bother to even unbuckle his seat belt. He popped the trunk, and Sydney opened her door.

"Vaughn is waiting inside."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Sydney ..."

She started to get out, but stopped.

"I apologize if I offended you. I'm only ..."

He stopped, as though not sure what to say, but Sydney already knew. He was gruff, and at times undiplomatic, but he was only looking out for her the best way he knew how.

She leaned in through the car door and kissed his cheek.

"Be careful, Dad."

"You, too, sweetheart. I'll see you soon."

She retrieved her carry-on, and as soon as she closed the trunk, her father pulled away. She waved, but she didn't know whether he saw.

Vaughn indeed was waiting inside, although it took Sydney a couple of minutes to find him among the crowd of harried travelers. He was sitting on a bench by a series of phone booths, and when he spotted her as well, he started toward her, rolling his luggage behind him and carrying something thin and brown in his hand. His eyes locked on her so that he didn't see an older lady crossing his path. Sydney stifled a laugh as he apologized for colliding with the lady -- who yelled at him to watch where he was going -- then continued on his way.

"That was graceful," she quipped as he reached her. "Very covert."

"Yeah, well, no one said I was good at this." He held out his hand, which she now saw held a large brown envelope. "This is for you."

She reached out to take it but caught a glint of something on Vaughn's finger. She took hold of his hand instead and twisted it gently to better see the plain band of gold. Without a word, she held up her own left hand to his to confirm what she already knew -- the rings matched perfectly.

"It's our cover," he said softly. "We're traveling as husband and wife. It attracts less attention."

She didn't say anything, and couldn't seem to look away from the ring.

"I know it's a little weird," he said.

"You have no idea," Sydney murmured. "It looks exactly like Danny's."

"It even has the date etched on the inside."

Sydney furrowed her brows. "But how ..."

"Your father gave the CIA some information on you before he and Devlin came to find us. They came up with what we needed. Which brings us back to the envelope, which is what you will need."

At his prompting, she dropped his hand and took the envelope. She started to tear through the flap, but Vaughn shook his head.

"Not here. Go someplace private. The ladies room might work."

"Sorry. I'm kinda new at this."

"That's why I'm here. Listen, why don't you go review your stuff, and I'll buy our tickets. Do you have a preference on where we go? We've been given clearance to travel just about anywhere."

She smiled shyly. "I've always wanted to see Paris."

"Paris it is, then," he said with a grin. "I've always been partial to France."

She nodded, and they stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. Her eyes strayed to his left hand, then back to his face, and she studied him. She grudgingly admitted to herself -- now that they stood face to face -- that maybe her feelings for Vaughn went beyond friendship, and she could tell from his tender, concerned look that he certainly felt something for her. With the realization, a wave of giddiness swept over her, along with heavy guilt, and she looked away.

Not that it mattered. She wouldn't do or say anything, out of respect and love for Danny, and Vaughn was too much of a gentleman to make advances toward a married woman.

"Do you know where the restroom is?" she asked.

"Um, yeah. There's one just down that way, along the far wall."

"I'll be back soon."

Once in the restroom, she locked herself in a stall, finished ripping open the envelope and dumped the contents into her lap. She started with the index card on top, printed in a no-nonsense font and which read like a dossier.

"Alias: Katherine Annabel Jones," it stated at the top, then went on:

Birth date: August 5, 1973
Place of birth: Buffalo, New York
Current residence: Los Angeles
Husband: John Matthew Jones
Married: June 3, 2002
Children: None

It also included a fictitious address, phone number, place of employment and other bits of information that make up the face a person presents to society. This, of course, was the identity she would go by while in hiding. She hadn't known she would have an alias, but she wasn't surprised now that she held the information in her hands.

She set aside the card and looked through the other contents of the envelope -- a social security card, driver's license, birth certificate, passport and other pieces of identification, all in the name of Katherine Jones and with her own smiling face pictured on many of them.

"Incredible," she murmured to herself.

In such a short amount of time, the CIA had created a completely new and -- at least on paper -- legitimate person. She examined her driver's license photo to find it was the same one on her real license, and the same with her passport. The agency must have access to all her information, which proved convenient in this case, but it also made her a little nervous that the government had the power to manipulate identity in this way.

At the bottom of the pile were a couple of credit cards and traveler's checks, all in the name of her alter-ego, and a brown leather wallet. No wonder her father had told her to leave her IDs at home; she certainly didn't need them. Sydney Hecht was staying in Los Angeles, and Kate Jones was taking off for Paris.

She went back to the index card and quickly committed to memory all the important information, then ripped it into tiny pieces and dumped them in the toilet. If that card were found on her in these suspicious times, she would probably be arrested or at least detained for questioning. She organized all the other IDs in the wallet, put it in her purse and remembered to flush before heading back out to the terminal.

"So is everything fine?" Vaughn asked after they had reconvened.

"Yeah. No problems."

"Good. I didn't think there would be. I got our tickets," he said, giving one to her. "The flight leaves in about an hour."

"First class?" she said, examining it.

"I figured it's a long trip, we might as well travel in comfort."

"I've never been in first class," she said, and he just smiled. "Should we go to our gate, then? It'll take awhile to get through security."

They first flew to New York City with a layover there of a couple of hours before heading out across the Atlantic. The airport hummed with the energy of humanity as passengers jostled with each other to move faster down the concourses, and a cheerful voice kept announcing over the intercom to not trust strangers with your bags. Sydney stayed close to Vaughn's side and kept one hand firmly on her purse.

It wasn't as though she had never traveled before, but she felt as though this was her first time. She watched each passerby with suspicion, as though this would be the one to see through their cover and trumpet it to the world. They would see the false marriage, the false names -- that the Joneses were not what they seemed. They would report to her father's enemies, and what happened next Sydney didn't want to even speculate.

"Hey, you need to relax," Vaughn whispered to her as they sat at their gate. He kneaded her shoulders with strong, sure hands. "You look like you're about to pop."

"That's because I am about to pop. I keep thinking that someone will recognize us, or see that we're not who we say we are."

"No one is who they say they are. Besides, everyone here is too wrapped up in their own problems to think much about anyone else. As far as anyone cares, we're just another couple on our way to vacation, or to visit family."

"I know, I know. But I just can't shake this feeling that something horrible is going to happen."

"Just take a few deep breaths ... that's good. I do this sort of thing all the time, remember? Very rarely does anything go wrong." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Are you all right?"

She attempted a smile and nodded.

"Good. Now I have to run a short errand. Will you be OK if I leave you here for a few minutes?"

"I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can."

Vaughn was gone for quite awhile, and the clock resolutely ticked toward their boarding time. Sydney checked her watch often and scanned down the concourse for Vaughn's familiar form. An attendant at their gate allowed the first passengers to board, then called for first class, and still Sydney sat and waited, her purse clenched in both hands. What would she do if he didn't return?

A few minutes later, as coach passengers were boarding, her fears subsided as Vaughn reappeared.

"I'm sorry it took so long, he said. "I had a few calls to make, and I wanted to get you these. Took awhile to find in all those gift shops, but I thought it might be useful."

He held out a small, neatly packaged box that read "French for beginners" and a portable CD player. The box indicated that inside were a book and CD.

"Thank you," she said, grateful for his thoughtfulness. "I took Spanish in school, so the extent of my French knowledge is bonjour and adieu."

"Actually, the French don't like to say 'goodbye,'" he said as he steered them toward the gate. "It's too final. They like to say 'see you tomorrow' or 'until later.'"

"OK, then. How do you say that?"

"A tout a l'heure is 'see you later.'"

"Just how do you know so much about French?"

"My mother is French," he said with a grin, "so I got to know the language pretty well. And I always loved Paris."

No matter Sydney's fears, their documentation was good enough to get them onto the plane. He gave her the window seat, and they buckled in for the long flight to Paris. Now that they were here, ready to take off, Sydney started to calm down and even felt a hint of excitement.

She reached over to take Vaughn's hand.

"Vaughn, I --"

"Uh-uh," he whispered. "I'm not Vaughn, you're not Syd. Remember our covers."

"Sorry. This isn't easy for me."

"I know."

"I just wanted to say thank you, for doing all this. I would be lost without you."

He lifted her hand and kissed it. "It's my pleasure," he said.

She looked out the window to hide her reddening cheeks. Of course his gesture was simply part of their cover -- what husband wouldn't show affection for his wife? -- but her hand tingled from where his lips had touched. Her father's words came back in a rush.

Things have a way of happening.

She thought of Danny, and couldn't bring herself to look at Vaughn for a long time.

#

"Hello?"

"It's Sark."

"Are we on schedule?"

"The ruse worked, of course. I'm constantly amazed at how well you play people, Irina. The CIA immediately sent Sydney away, believing she would be safer outside Los Angeles."

"And the homing device?"

"The one you slipped into her purse, you mean? No one has found it, and it's working perfectly. They're in New York, but that's probably not their final destination."

"They? So the CIA sent someone with her."

"Yes. An agent named Vaughn. That's all I know about him."

"I recognize the name. My daughter has mentioned him."

"Would you like me to follow?"

"Yes. But make sure you take them both alive. I want to keep our options open."

"Of course."

"And contact me when you have them. They are the leverage we need to make Jack an offer he can't refuse."

##

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