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: Thank you for the positive feedback. I really appreciate it. :)
##
The world spun. Sydney groaned and squeezed her eyes shut until the feeling subsided. Still, her stomach churned, and the pounding pressure in her head made it feel like it was about to implode. Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton, with a bitter metallic taste, and she tried to coax some saliva but to no avail.
What was happening to her? Her head hurt too much for her to remember, but she tried anyway and slowly the details returned. Vaughn had woken her up with his hand over her mouth, and then someone had broken into their hotel room with a gun. No, not a gun. A tranquilizer. He had shot them both.
Panic gripped at her center and she firmly pushed it aside, trying to figure this out analytically. Who was the shooter? She could only assume this had something to do with her father, but how had the man known where to find them? And where was he now?
It was too much to process in her current condition, so she didn't make the effort. She rolled onto her side, and as she did, something cold and hard tugged at her legs, accompanied by an odd clinking noise. Curious, she dared to open her eyes and saw shackles around both ankles, attached to thick chains embedded in the wall behind her. Sydney tugged on them but they didn't budge, and she didn't expect them to.
Now that her eyes were open anyway, and the world had stabilized a bit, she took the opportunity to examine her surroundings. She was lying on a bare cot with a pillow and blanket folded neatly at the bottom. At the base of her bed was a deep pan she guessed was for relieving herself. The room itself had a single light bulb swinging high overhead, which gave barely enough light for her to make out the four walls. She could see no windows, and only one door.
A low groan from the far wall drew her attention, and she strained to see another cot. On it was a long, lean figure.
"Vaughn!" she called out, producing only a hoarse whisper around the dryness in her mouth. She tried again, with more success. "Vaughn! Vaughn, wake up!"
He didn't stir, and Sydney tugged at her chains in desperation. She had to get to him, to make sure he was all right. They had to get out of here.
"Vaughn! Please wake up. I need you to wake up. Please..."
Her voice echoed off the walls, but still she got no response. Sydney fell back on her cot, which creaked in protest. She had no idea what to do. Vaughn was the agent, not her. He might know how to get them out of here, but he was out cold. All Sydney could do for now was wait, and try not to panic.
#
Jack retrieved Sydney's spare key from where she had it hidden beneath a planter by the front door. Danny had not yet returned from his conference in Atlanta, so the house, as expected, was empty of people. Newspapers and magazines littered the living room coffee table, and the carpet needed vacuuming. Obviously housework was far from Sydney's thoughts nowadays.
He had come here directly from the CIA office. They had been helpful to a point in locating Sydney and Vaughn, who had arrived in Paris only hours ago. But where the two had gone from the airport, no one knew. Jack quickly scheduled a flight to France, but it wouldn't leave for another hour, so he had come here first -- hoping that perhaps Sydney had left some clue as to her whereabouts.
He smiled a little at the Christmas tree in the living room -- assuming they all lived through this, he looked forward to spending the holiday with his daughter -- and hurried into the kitchen. The sink practically overflowed with dishes. A long parade of ants marched from a dirty plate by the sink to a hairline crack near the floor.
The answering machine on the counter display blinked in a bright red "3." With any luck, his daughter had defied the rules of no contact and had left a message for Danny.
He hit the play button.
"Hi, Syd. I've arrived in Atlanta. I'm at the airport now. Just wanted to let you know I made it and to tell you I love you. I'll call later tonight from the hotel."
Jack skipped to the next message.
"Hi, sweetheart. It's me again. Are you there? ... No, huh? Um, OK. I'm at the hotel. Room 347, if you want to call back. I also have my cell phone but I'm supposed to turn it off during conference sessions. Just leave a message and I'll get back to you. Love you. Bye."
He pressed skip again, going to the last new message.
"Syd, where are you? I've been trying to call for hours and no one is answering. Do you have the ringer turned off? I'm getting worried. Please, call me when you get this message. I'll have my cell phone turned on. Don't worry about interrupting one of my sessions. Just call. OK?"
The machine beeped twice, signaling the end of its recordings.
"Damn," Jack muttered.
"Not what you were hoping for, was it?"
Jack whirled around. He started to reach for his gun but backed his hands slowly away when he saw Irina Derevko walking toward him, her own gun pointed at his head.
"I suppose this shouldn't surprise me," he said. "I knew you'd turn up sooner or later."
"I assume you were hoping for a message from Sydney. Right?" She smiled grimly. "Yet all you get is my son-in- law. Danny is not whom I would have picked for her. I prefer the other one. Agent Vaughn. He seems more of a match for our daughter, don't you think?"
"Where is Sydney?"
"She's safe. I'm having Mr. Sark keep her and Agent Vaughn company. You could try to find them, but by the time you did, it would be too late."
"You won't hurt them." He sounded more certain of that than he felt.
Her eyes narrowed. "What makes you think that?"
"Because you're here. You want something, and they are your bargaining chip."
"You think so?"
Jack's jaw tightened. "Don't play games with me, Irina. What will it take to make you release them?"
"Oh, Jack, why even ask when you already know?"
The answer suddenly came to him, so obvious and simple. "You want the other box."
"Bring it to me. Here, four hours from now. And come alone. If you comply, Sydney will live. If not..." She shrugged.
"You wouldn't kill your own daughter."
"I do what I must, as will you, Jack," she said as she started backing toward the front door, her gun still trained on him. "Bring me the box."
"Even if I do bring it, and you let Sydney go, you've ruined any chance of repairing your relationship with her. She will never trust you again."
"We'll see about that." She smiled coldly and vanished out the door.
Jack drew his gun and ran after her, but by the time he reached the porch, she was gone.
#
Sydney lost all sense of time. With no windows in this small, dark room, she couldn't guess the hour, or whether it was day or night. At least several hours had passed judging by her hunger and thirst, but she had no idea of how long she had been unconscious before that. For all she knew, days had passed since she had Vaughn had arrived in Paris.
She had used the bed pan only once, and then with some embarrassment, her eyes scanning the walls for a security camera she knew was somewhere. After that, she had wrapped herself in the blanket on her cot -- the room had no heating, and a shivering cold had seeped into her -- and she waited.
As for Vaughn, he still lay unmoving on his cot. She had long since given up on calling out to him. She had rattled her chains and thrown her pillow at him, all to no avail. She worried that he might have a head injury that kept him from waking, or perhaps he had gotten a stronger dose of whatever drug had initially knocked them out. Still she watched and hoped that he would soon revive.
She also watched the room's solitary door, even though it had yet to be opened since she had come to. Someone would eventually have to check on them. They needed food and water, and Vaughn needed medical attention. Sydney toyed with the idea of faking a medical emergency, just to get a person in here. Whoever their captors were, they had gone to a great amount of trouble to bring Sydney and Vaughn here, and they wouldn't let them die so quickly.
Or would they? For all her speculation, Sydney didn't fully know what was going on. Perhaps their captors didn't care whether they lived or died.
For the first time since waking up, she felt a genuine wave of fear that she couldn't suppress. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. It would only make matters worse if she had a panic attack.
After what seemed many more hours, a soft click drew her attention, and the door opened. Sydney squinted against the bright lights outside. A man entered, carrying something in both hands. Sydney watched in silence as he set a plate of food and glass of water on the floor by her bed.
As her vision adjusted, she saw him better. He was tall --well, taller than her, at least -- with blond hair and intense eyes. He gestured to the food.
"You should eat," he said, and she recognized his voice. He had been the one to shoot her and Vaughn.
She spit at him. It fell short, and he smirked.
"Suit yourself," he said and gestured behind him.
Two more men entered and crossed to Vaughn's bed. She couldn't see clearly what they were doing, but she heard Vaughn's chains rattle, then clank to the floor. The men grabbed Vaughn under his armpits and dragged him out the door.
"No!" Sydney yelled. Forgetting she was shackled, she tried to jump off the cot at them and ended up face-first on the floor, the wind knocked out of her.
The blond man hauled her up and back onto her cot as she gasped for air.
"Now that wasn't overly bright."
"Where are you taking him?" Sydney growled.
"That doesn't concern you, Ms. Hecht. You should be more worried about your own survival."
He turned to leave.
"Hey," Sydney yelled, and he looked back at her. "Who are you?"
"Someone you will have to try harder to please, if you want your friend to live. Now eat."
The door shut, and Sydney was alone. With the threat to Vaughn's safety thick in the air, she picked up the food and drink. He had left her an apple, an orange and dried meat. She started with drinking half the water, then peeled the orange. She would need her strength if she were going to escape, find Vaughn and get out of here.
Problem was, she didn't have the slightest clue how to start.
#
Jack removed the box from the CIA warehouse with so little hassle that it surprised him. His badge allowed him entrance to the facility, and no guard bothered to check his belongings on the way out. It worried him that taking evidence was so simple. He would have to speak with Devlin about improving security there, after the end of the current crisis.
He arrived back at Sydney's house four hours and 15 minutes after his last meeting with Irina. The sun had dipped below the tree line, bathing the world in dim golden light. All down the street, houses were glowing with Christmas lights, except for the Hecht residence. From the outside, the house appeared empty: no cars in the driveway, no lights through the windows. Yet Jack knew she was waiting inside, and possibly not alone. He suspected that he was about to walk into a trap but he had no choice. If he didn't show, Sydney would die.
So he lifted the box from the passenger side floor and examined it, to really see what all this fuss was about. It was on the smallish side, fitting snuggly in his cupped hands. Carved into the wooden lid and sides were symbols, meaningless to Jack but so important to Irina that she would kill for them. Kill her own daughter.
Jack had no clue as to what the box did, or what it said, and he only hoped that he wasn't handing the key to world domination over to Irina Derevko. Even so, for Sydney, he would hand over a hundred like it. Nothing in this world meant so much to Jack Bristow as his only daughter.
He tucked the box into an inside coat pocket and stepped out of the car with gun drawn. With cautious steps, he made his way around the house to the back door. It was cracked open. The door creaked as he pushed it open wider, announcing his presence to all within. With the element of surprise gone, he sighed and entered.
The house was dark, and Jack's eyes need time to adjust. For all he knew, he was surrounded.
"You have the box?"
Irina's voice came from the shadows, somewhere to his left.
"Yes, I have it," he said.
"Set it on the floor and step away."
"First tell me where Sydney is."
"We play by my rules, Jack. Do as I say if you value Sydney's life."
With no other options, he complied. Her heels clicked against the tile floor as she came forward, into the last light of day cast through the window. She held no weapon, a pointed reminder of her hold over Jack. She knew he would not harm her so long as Sydney was hers.
She bent over and scooped up the box in one graceful motion. Her lips curled in a satisfied smile. She pulled a small device from her coat pocket and scanned the box for homing devices, coming up clean.
His patience run out, Jack said, "All right, you have what you wanted. Now tell me where you're holding my daughter and Agent Vaughn."
"Do you take me for a fool, Jack? The moment you have that information, you're free to kill me or hand me over to the CIA."
His eyes narrowed. "We have a deal."
"Indeed we do. You give me the box, and I let Sydney live. I'm living up to my side of that bargain. Whether Sydney contacts you is her choice, not mine."
He was across the room so fast that Irina had no time to react. Jack slammed her against the refrigerator, magnets and the snapshots they held falling to the floor. He pressed his gun hard against her neck, and she flinched. But her voice betrayed no fear.
"Kill me, and you'll never get her back," she rasped.
"Make the call," Jack growled. "Contact Sark. Tell him to release Sydney and Agent Vaughn."
"I can't," she said firmly.
Jack pressed the gun harder. "Can't? Or won't."
"Can't. This exchange must go down in a specific way. I must be to a designated place within the hour, alone. The place is well-guarded, so forget about getting in. I call Sark from a landline that will register on his caller ID so he knows my location. If there is any deviation in this plan -- anything at all -- he will kill them."
Jack said nothing. He merely looked into her eyes, searching for the truth.
"You have to let me go, Jack."
"You're bluffing."
"Are you willing to stake Sydney's life on it?"
He paused. "I will need some assurance that she is safe."
"Once I've made the call, I'll contact you with her location."
He held the gun there for a moment longer, then pushed Irina away in frustration. She landed hard against a counter and rubbed at her neck.
"You made the right choice," she said.
Jack turned his back, fists clenched at his side, as Irina made her exit. She had put him in a bad position, without any guarantees that she would follow through on her end of the bargain. He wanted so badly to pull the trigger, but he had no choice. He couldn't take the chance that Irina was telling the truth.
Now, all he could do was wait.
##