Hey UKHuneyB: Not only am I an ALIAS addict but now I'm completely hooked
on MI-5!! Claire is actually based on Helen, that girl that got killed in
the second or third episode. Also, I was stuck for a girl's name, so
that's how Maisie got her name! Bravo for picking that up! Keep that in
mind as I might use references from THAT show in this!!
Okay, I split this chapter in half, so bear with me!
This had to be the worst day in the world. There was no way that this could get any worse than this. The wake had been absolutely beautiful or as beautiful as a wake can be. And the funeral was even more beautiful. There were beautiful flowers everywhere. There were stargazer lilies, Felicity Vaughn's favorite. People came from all over to pay their respects to the beloved lady from the top of the hill. More salty tears were spread over as Vaughn's mother was laid to rest. It was the most peaceful burial the world had ever witnessed. The service was done in both English and French and those who attended returned to the Vaughn estate for a quiet meal. Vaughn and Sydney were joined at the hip, constantly in contact with each other, by either their hands or eye contact. Weiss and Maisie were practically inseparable. The little girl had taken a liking to the man that she referred to as Uncle Eric. And at their heels, Isabelle stood a proud 'mother.' There was something that happened though. Something between Isabelle and Weiss that went not unnoticed by Vaughn and Sydney. They seemed to always be near each other and conversing in low tones. Sydney suspected a budding romance but Vaughn adamantly denied that his best friend and older sister may be becoming more than friends. Claire had stayed to the back of the crowd, not making a big fuss. The child that loved to make noise and love life seemed to have the life drained from her. No one talked about the night before that she awoke the inhabitants of the house by her screaming into the darkness about waking up alone and still loving 'him.'
Vaughn had rushed down the stairs, pulling on a t-shirt as he ran. His mind could only think of horrible images that could await him downstairs. Sydney was right behind him, her body tense and ready for anything. But it was Vaughn that made it down the stairs first. His light feet rushed him over the hard wood floors and into the foyer. The emerald globes searched for any disturbances. None. There was absolute silence for anther moment and then a heart wrenching sob broke through the darkness. Vaughn reached around into the living room to throw on the light. His heart nearly broke in two at the sound of the sob. He had heard it only a few times but recognized it clear enough. His hand groped for the light switch that quickly illuminated the room. There was his beautiful sister, curled up on the couch with a drink in one hand and tears streaming down her face. "Claire?"
She turned her focus away from the picture wall in front of her. The sobs stopped at the sound of her name and instead of a fragile voice, a harsh tone reached out. "He's dead, Michael. He worked for the same people you worked for and they killed him." The light bulb was dimming so the room was filled in an antique lighting. Years were added onto her face but lean muscle lines were also added.
Vaughn slowly made his way into the room. "Who's dead?" His voice cracked with concern. Without making a sound, he crept into the room, his brow wrinkled in concern for his dear baby sister.
"And now," She continued as if she didn't hear him, "they won't even tell me how he died." She licked her lips as she swallowed another gulp. The liquor tasted cruel over her mouth. "I know everything else but how he died."
Caution embraced him as he slowly made his way towards her. For a split moment, he glanced back to the doorway and saw Sydney standing there. He quickly motioned for her to go back, which she did reluctantly. This wasn't another family drama that the world needed to see. He reached the couch and sat down at the opposite end, pulling his feet on the couch and starring in absolute confusion. "Who died, Claire?" His voice begged again.
Her blue eyes were cold now. There was no life or emotion left in them anymore. She turned her body to face Vaughn, their feet almost touch. "Samuel Jenkins. Ranking field agent for MI-5. Killed in the line of duty some six and a half weeks ago." She took another drink of her poison and licked her lips. "Do you want some?" She now focused on the glass in her hand. "It tastes bloody awful but it does do the trick, I assume."
Vaughn shook his head no, "Why were you involved with an agent?" He didn't know whether to be hurt, angry, upset, or feel any emotion at all. He forbade dating an agent for both of his sisters. He knew nothing good could come of this.
She rolled her eyes, "Oh brother, dearest. I forgot to tell you. I was screwing an agent. Tsk. Tsk. I went back on yours and Maman's precious rule. But wait, aren't you an agent and aren't you sleeping with her?" Her words burned like poison and she refused to raise her eyes to meet her brother's. This wasn't her talking. This was the liquor.
"I'm a hypocrite." He answered bluntly. "But sometimes, it's worth the risk. In my case, my love for Sydney was worth the risk."
"Hell and damnation." She whispered. "Love is never worth the risk. Hell and damnation to me."
Vaughn was taken back by this. He had never heard such harsh words out of baby sister's mouth. He knew she was aching inside but knew not what she was aching of. He reached forward to touch her leg in a comforting sort of way when she hissed. "Don't touch me. Don't even come near me." Her voice was low and raspy.
He instantly retracted his hand and looked hurt. "How did you meet Samuel?"
Her entire tone changed. "It doesn't matter."
His brow was still furrowed in worry and his eyes were downcast and examining the wrinkles of the sofa. He absolutely had no clue what to think. "Then let's talk about something that *does* matter." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Do you know his stats?"
Statistics. They were run over and over again in his head. They were the last thing she thought about before she went to bed and the first thing every morning. It was safe to say her life revolved around his former. "Born January 24, 1966 in London, England. Recruited in March of 1985 by a Mr. Jonathan Paine. Case number is-was HDD-IE-4830482." She paused after each fact, as though she was going through the facts of an index card. "He was trained in martial arts, surveillance, high risk retrieval, firearms, driving techniques, pursuit and evasion, and linguistics. He spoke Spanish, French, Japanese, Russian, and German. Killed in September of 2002."
He was impressed. Grant it, he knew the same facts about Sydney but he would never admit that. Her case number was USS-CI-2300844. She knew more languages than he cared to count. Her training included martial arts, surveillance, high risk retrieval, firearms, driving techniques, pursuit and evasion, linguistics, pilates, and theatrical arts. And to top it all off, she had an R01 molar extraction. As his mind drifted through this, he came to the sudden and brash realization. "How do you know his stats?" That was confidential information and only security cleared agents could access such files. His brain stopped. No, there was no way that she could be. She wouldn't do that to him or the family. She would never. "When were you recruited?"
"I'm not." She answered simply.
"Bull. There's no way you'd be privy to all of that information, unless he told you, which I highly doubt. So, I'll ask you one more time Claire, when were you recruited?"
"I. Was. Not. I. Am. Not. A. Freaking. Spy." She emphasized each word. She was officially jaded now from both heartache and good alcohol. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm putting my mother into the ground tomorrow and would like to be sober for it. Good night." She rose and stumbled slightly. Vaughn instantly jumped up and tried to steady her. But being the stubborn child that she was, she instantly brushed him off. "I'm fine. I told you not to touch me." Steadying herself, she walked out of the room in her nightgown, flowing in all its white glory behind her.
"Claire, wait." He cried as she started to walk up the stairs. There were so many unresolved questions. "We're not done here."
"The hell we are." She spat back at him, not bothering to turn around to face him. "I'm going up to bed."
"We need to finish this, Claire!" He shouted again. This time he followed her up the stairs. She moved quickly and practically bolted down the hallway and firmly slammed the door behind her.
Vaughn followed her, not being able to move as fast as he used to, and just as she was in arms' reach, he found a door being slammed in his face. He reached his hand up and firmly knocked. "Claire! Open the door! Claire!" It was a paternal tone that took over. He banged hard again. "G-ddamn it, Claire! Open the door! Open the door!" He shouted into the heavy cedar door.
There was no answer from the other side. She kept her silence as she sat on her bed, annoyed that her nightly ritual was disturbed. She heard her brother's voice being blasted through her door and ittook all the strength she had not to snap back at him.
Finally, after what seemed like an absolute eternity, Vaughn dropped his head and his hand and decided to retire back to his bedroom. He opened the door slowly and saw Sydney sitting up in bed with the lamp on. "She's definitely the stubborn one of the group." He answered her questioning looks.
"You're pretty stubborn yourself, honey." She smiled slightly, "Come back to bed."
Vaughn took one more fleeting look back towards his sister's room and sighed heavily. "I don't understand what's wrong."
"Well, what happened?" She asked, moving the sheets aside for him to climb in. The two of them had been curled up tightly in the small twin bed.
He reached the bed and laid down gingerly, letting his head hit the pillow and addressed the ceiling. "My sister was involved with an MI-5 agent and now, I think she was recruited." He admitted and felt uncertainty rise within him.
Sydney laid back down and rested her head on his shoulder. "Why do you think that?"
She quickly dialed the number into the little black cell phone that she held so close in her hands.
A man working half a world away answered his dearly beloved cell phone, the Caller ID blank. "Yes?"
"Secure line?" She hazarded to ask.
The man laughed a reply. "G-d Claire, you really are new at this. Of course it's secure line." The jolliness was drained out of his voice a moment later, "What's going on?"
"My brother's onto me." She whispered quickly. "When do I leave?"
"Day after tomorrow, darling. Don't worry, you'll be fine. You brother can suspect all he wants but he has no proof. As long as he had no proof, you're fine. You're gonna be fine, Claire." The familiar British accent filled the line, "We need to end this phone conversation, darling. I don't want him to suspect anything more." And a certain blonde haired gentleman hung up the phone.
Okay, I split this chapter in half, so bear with me!
This had to be the worst day in the world. There was no way that this could get any worse than this. The wake had been absolutely beautiful or as beautiful as a wake can be. And the funeral was even more beautiful. There were beautiful flowers everywhere. There were stargazer lilies, Felicity Vaughn's favorite. People came from all over to pay their respects to the beloved lady from the top of the hill. More salty tears were spread over as Vaughn's mother was laid to rest. It was the most peaceful burial the world had ever witnessed. The service was done in both English and French and those who attended returned to the Vaughn estate for a quiet meal. Vaughn and Sydney were joined at the hip, constantly in contact with each other, by either their hands or eye contact. Weiss and Maisie were practically inseparable. The little girl had taken a liking to the man that she referred to as Uncle Eric. And at their heels, Isabelle stood a proud 'mother.' There was something that happened though. Something between Isabelle and Weiss that went not unnoticed by Vaughn and Sydney. They seemed to always be near each other and conversing in low tones. Sydney suspected a budding romance but Vaughn adamantly denied that his best friend and older sister may be becoming more than friends. Claire had stayed to the back of the crowd, not making a big fuss. The child that loved to make noise and love life seemed to have the life drained from her. No one talked about the night before that she awoke the inhabitants of the house by her screaming into the darkness about waking up alone and still loving 'him.'
Vaughn had rushed down the stairs, pulling on a t-shirt as he ran. His mind could only think of horrible images that could await him downstairs. Sydney was right behind him, her body tense and ready for anything. But it was Vaughn that made it down the stairs first. His light feet rushed him over the hard wood floors and into the foyer. The emerald globes searched for any disturbances. None. There was absolute silence for anther moment and then a heart wrenching sob broke through the darkness. Vaughn reached around into the living room to throw on the light. His heart nearly broke in two at the sound of the sob. He had heard it only a few times but recognized it clear enough. His hand groped for the light switch that quickly illuminated the room. There was his beautiful sister, curled up on the couch with a drink in one hand and tears streaming down her face. "Claire?"
She turned her focus away from the picture wall in front of her. The sobs stopped at the sound of her name and instead of a fragile voice, a harsh tone reached out. "He's dead, Michael. He worked for the same people you worked for and they killed him." The light bulb was dimming so the room was filled in an antique lighting. Years were added onto her face but lean muscle lines were also added.
Vaughn slowly made his way into the room. "Who's dead?" His voice cracked with concern. Without making a sound, he crept into the room, his brow wrinkled in concern for his dear baby sister.
"And now," She continued as if she didn't hear him, "they won't even tell me how he died." She licked her lips as she swallowed another gulp. The liquor tasted cruel over her mouth. "I know everything else but how he died."
Caution embraced him as he slowly made his way towards her. For a split moment, he glanced back to the doorway and saw Sydney standing there. He quickly motioned for her to go back, which she did reluctantly. This wasn't another family drama that the world needed to see. He reached the couch and sat down at the opposite end, pulling his feet on the couch and starring in absolute confusion. "Who died, Claire?" His voice begged again.
Her blue eyes were cold now. There was no life or emotion left in them anymore. She turned her body to face Vaughn, their feet almost touch. "Samuel Jenkins. Ranking field agent for MI-5. Killed in the line of duty some six and a half weeks ago." She took another drink of her poison and licked her lips. "Do you want some?" She now focused on the glass in her hand. "It tastes bloody awful but it does do the trick, I assume."
Vaughn shook his head no, "Why were you involved with an agent?" He didn't know whether to be hurt, angry, upset, or feel any emotion at all. He forbade dating an agent for both of his sisters. He knew nothing good could come of this.
She rolled her eyes, "Oh brother, dearest. I forgot to tell you. I was screwing an agent. Tsk. Tsk. I went back on yours and Maman's precious rule. But wait, aren't you an agent and aren't you sleeping with her?" Her words burned like poison and she refused to raise her eyes to meet her brother's. This wasn't her talking. This was the liquor.
"I'm a hypocrite." He answered bluntly. "But sometimes, it's worth the risk. In my case, my love for Sydney was worth the risk."
"Hell and damnation." She whispered. "Love is never worth the risk. Hell and damnation to me."
Vaughn was taken back by this. He had never heard such harsh words out of baby sister's mouth. He knew she was aching inside but knew not what she was aching of. He reached forward to touch her leg in a comforting sort of way when she hissed. "Don't touch me. Don't even come near me." Her voice was low and raspy.
He instantly retracted his hand and looked hurt. "How did you meet Samuel?"
Her entire tone changed. "It doesn't matter."
His brow was still furrowed in worry and his eyes were downcast and examining the wrinkles of the sofa. He absolutely had no clue what to think. "Then let's talk about something that *does* matter." He paused for a moment before continuing, "Do you know his stats?"
Statistics. They were run over and over again in his head. They were the last thing she thought about before she went to bed and the first thing every morning. It was safe to say her life revolved around his former. "Born January 24, 1966 in London, England. Recruited in March of 1985 by a Mr. Jonathan Paine. Case number is-was HDD-IE-4830482." She paused after each fact, as though she was going through the facts of an index card. "He was trained in martial arts, surveillance, high risk retrieval, firearms, driving techniques, pursuit and evasion, and linguistics. He spoke Spanish, French, Japanese, Russian, and German. Killed in September of 2002."
He was impressed. Grant it, he knew the same facts about Sydney but he would never admit that. Her case number was USS-CI-2300844. She knew more languages than he cared to count. Her training included martial arts, surveillance, high risk retrieval, firearms, driving techniques, pursuit and evasion, linguistics, pilates, and theatrical arts. And to top it all off, she had an R01 molar extraction. As his mind drifted through this, he came to the sudden and brash realization. "How do you know his stats?" That was confidential information and only security cleared agents could access such files. His brain stopped. No, there was no way that she could be. She wouldn't do that to him or the family. She would never. "When were you recruited?"
"I'm not." She answered simply.
"Bull. There's no way you'd be privy to all of that information, unless he told you, which I highly doubt. So, I'll ask you one more time Claire, when were you recruited?"
"I. Was. Not. I. Am. Not. A. Freaking. Spy." She emphasized each word. She was officially jaded now from both heartache and good alcohol. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm putting my mother into the ground tomorrow and would like to be sober for it. Good night." She rose and stumbled slightly. Vaughn instantly jumped up and tried to steady her. But being the stubborn child that she was, she instantly brushed him off. "I'm fine. I told you not to touch me." Steadying herself, she walked out of the room in her nightgown, flowing in all its white glory behind her.
"Claire, wait." He cried as she started to walk up the stairs. There were so many unresolved questions. "We're not done here."
"The hell we are." She spat back at him, not bothering to turn around to face him. "I'm going up to bed."
"We need to finish this, Claire!" He shouted again. This time he followed her up the stairs. She moved quickly and practically bolted down the hallway and firmly slammed the door behind her.
Vaughn followed her, not being able to move as fast as he used to, and just as she was in arms' reach, he found a door being slammed in his face. He reached his hand up and firmly knocked. "Claire! Open the door! Claire!" It was a paternal tone that took over. He banged hard again. "G-ddamn it, Claire! Open the door! Open the door!" He shouted into the heavy cedar door.
There was no answer from the other side. She kept her silence as she sat on her bed, annoyed that her nightly ritual was disturbed. She heard her brother's voice being blasted through her door and ittook all the strength she had not to snap back at him.
Finally, after what seemed like an absolute eternity, Vaughn dropped his head and his hand and decided to retire back to his bedroom. He opened the door slowly and saw Sydney sitting up in bed with the lamp on. "She's definitely the stubborn one of the group." He answered her questioning looks.
"You're pretty stubborn yourself, honey." She smiled slightly, "Come back to bed."
Vaughn took one more fleeting look back towards his sister's room and sighed heavily. "I don't understand what's wrong."
"Well, what happened?" She asked, moving the sheets aside for him to climb in. The two of them had been curled up tightly in the small twin bed.
He reached the bed and laid down gingerly, letting his head hit the pillow and addressed the ceiling. "My sister was involved with an MI-5 agent and now, I think she was recruited." He admitted and felt uncertainty rise within him.
Sydney laid back down and rested her head on his shoulder. "Why do you think that?"
She quickly dialed the number into the little black cell phone that she held so close in her hands.
A man working half a world away answered his dearly beloved cell phone, the Caller ID blank. "Yes?"
"Secure line?" She hazarded to ask.
The man laughed a reply. "G-d Claire, you really are new at this. Of course it's secure line." The jolliness was drained out of his voice a moment later, "What's going on?"
"My brother's onto me." She whispered quickly. "When do I leave?"
"Day after tomorrow, darling. Don't worry, you'll be fine. You brother can suspect all he wants but he has no proof. As long as he had no proof, you're fine. You're gonna be fine, Claire." The familiar British accent filled the line, "We need to end this phone conversation, darling. I don't want him to suspect anything more." And a certain blonde haired gentleman hung up the phone.