A/N: Ok you guys. I've been a reviewer on ff.net for like two years now. I
think I've reviewed every single Alias, Buffy, Angel, Dark Angel, Roswell,
X-Men, Witchblade and Birds Of Prey fic that I've ever read. So I want you
guys to show me the same courtesy. Please. This is my first fic EVER, and I
need all the encouragement I can get. Now we can do this the nice way, or
we can do this the hard way.
A/N2: I'm writing an Alias fic because I just can't stand the way that Alias has been lately. Vaughn and Sydney should be together, FOREVER! And Lauren should be dropped off a nice cliff somewhere and never heard from again. J.J Abrams won't even let us hate her. The least he could have done was made her a bitch. But no. He says that that would be "childish and immature and not in the show's best interest," etc. What would be in the show's best interest would be to put Vaughn and Sydney back together, hello! I think I actually heard the collective gasp at approximately 9:54 PM on the night of the second season finale, and I was too busy screaming, so it was pretty loud.
A/N3: OK last author's note and then I'll get to the story. This particular fic is just to blow off some steam because I'm a very busy college freshman and I just NEED to write something besides a class paper. I'm currently writing two other Alias fics that will be much better than this one, and I will post them whenever my professors decide to give us poor students a break, which isn't likely any time soon. But I'm making time for this one, b/c, like I said, I just need to write this. Also, I posted this fic a while ago on ff.net, but I'm reposting it b/c I thought of a few improvements. And b/c I'm hoping for a few more reviews than I got the first time.
Disclaimer: If it walks like a J.J. Abrams, and it talks like a J.J. Abrams, then it's probably J.J. Abrams, the guy who does own Alias. I don't own Alias and I never did. So I am therefore not making any money off this fic. Please don't sue. Suing me would be a waste of your time as well as mine b/c I'm a poor college freshman. And furthermore, if I did own Alias, then believe me, there would be a whole bunch of very happy Syd/Vaughn fans out there. On with the story. Enjoy!
The Dangers of Boredom
Jack Bristow walks into the CIA building on Monday morning.
Jack (muttering to himself): Another boring day at the office. Another day full of endless meetings with those stupid pricks I work with. I never should've become a spy. I should've listened to my father when he told me to play professional baseball. Maybe then I would get the admiration and respect I deserve from the public. I save the world on a daily basis, but do I even get a 'Thank you, Jack?" or a "Nice job, Jack." Nope. Instead they just say, Piss off, Jack, and don't bother me anymore!" Well, see if I help them the next time something goes wrong on a mission and they're in mortal peril.
As he passes the desks of all the agents, he gives them the usual morning glares. If there's one thing Jack Bristow's good at, it's intimidating other people. Noticing that several of the recipients of his glare are wetting their pants, he smiles to himself.
Jack (muttering again): Maybe today won't be so bad after all.
He walks into the meeting room, where Sydney, Vaughn, Weiss, Lauren, Marshall and Dixon are already seated.
Dixon: Good morning, Jack. Please, have a seat.
Sydney: Morning Dad.
Jack: Good morning, Dixon. Good morning sweetheart. The rest of you can piss off.
Sydney: Now Dad, that wasn't very nice.
Jack: Since when have I ever concerned myself with being nice to anyone I didn't like?
Sydney: Well I was just saying.
Jack (to Dixon): So what do we have on the agenda today? A Rambaldi artifact to find? A Russian satellite to disable? An evil terrorist to torture? What?
Dixon: Actually things are going pretty slow lately. There isn't a goddamn thing to do today.
Everyone is pretty shocked. No one can remember the last time they didn't have a world-in-crisis situation to avert.
Sydney: So what you're saying is that we don't have anything to do today? All right! Maybe now I can sit back, relax, and drink all the margaritas I want! I've been meaning to do that ever since I woke up in that alley in Hong Kong. This day rocks!
Lauren: Don't you think that we should probably look over our files to make sure that there's nothing wrong? America's enemies could be lying in wait to catch us off our guard. I think that we should all stay here today and-
Dixon (interrupting Lauren): Shut up, Agent Reed! No one here, or anywhere that I can think of really, likes you. You are a smelly disgusting person and I think you should be boiling in a vat of hot oil somewhere. In fact, Agent Weiss! I want you to toss her over your shoulder and follow me to the basement where the CIA does all of it's tort- uh, I mean fonduing. Yes, that's it. We can probably find a melting pot somewhere big enough, and maybe even a stick to skew her-uh I mean, give to her so that she can have fondue along with us. You like melting cheese, don't you Lauren?
Lauren: Now wait a goddamn minute! Don't you know who I am? I am Lauren Reed, daughter of Senator Reed, and wife of Michael Vaughn. And neither my father nor my husband will stand for your insolence, not to mention your threatening behavior towards me! Isn't that right, Michael?
Vaughn (caught making googly eyes at Sydney): I'm sorry what did you say?
Lauren (who's currently in the process of being tossed over Weiss's shoulder): Are you just going to let them walk off with me to do God knows what with? Michael, they're going to torture me!
Vaughn: Don't be silly. They just want to include you in their fun.
Lauren: Then why am I being carried off?
Vaughn: Eric and Dixon are just being considerate of your weak ankles.
Eric (to Dixon): Man, do I have to carry her all the way there? She smells like a skunk fart and she weighs about as much as my Uncle Morty after a holiday meal.
Lauren (being carried out of the room and down the hall): Michael! Michael! Michael why the hell aren't you-
Dixon (heard outside the room): Oh shut the hell up! Here Weiss, turn around so that I can shove one of my smelly socks in her mouth. That should quiet her down. I worked through the night and didn't have time to change, so I haven't changed them in two days or so. And even better, I'm pretty sure I stepped in something this morning.
Back in the room, everyone else, especially Vaughn and Sydney are looking pretty relieved.
Jack: I'm very grateful that Dixon did that. Now my daughter will be happy and I don't have to listen to that whining tabozia bagra anymore. Her scratchy voice was wreaking havoc on my delicate eardrums.
Vaughn: So Sydney, you mentioned lots and lots of margaritas earlier. Mind if I join you? I think you and I should take the 11:00 flight down to Tahiti and start getting drunk before that thing gets back.
Sydney: Sounds good to me. I'm just glad that I have the day off from dressing up like a whore and making international terrorists think that I want to sleep with them. Oh, don't forget to pack that box of extra large con-uh, uhm, condiments, because you never know when you might need some ketchup or mustard or something.Yeah.
Vaughn: I'll get right on that. Why don't I meet you at LAX in about an hour and a half? I'll just go book the tickets and pack and stuff. See you there!
Vaughn leaves the room. Sydney gets up and starts to follow but Jack stops her.
Jack: Have a nice time sweetheart. And don't worry. I'll make sure that Lauren has so much fun 'fonduing' that she'll be kept busy for a few weeks. In fact, don't be surprised if Vaughn gets a call that she's MIA.
Sydney: Thanks dad! Oh, if we aren't back in a few weeks, then we're in Vegas. I'll call if I need you to walk me down the aisle.
Jack: I'll be sure to have my tux dry cleaned just in case. Bye!
Sydney: Bye Dad! (She walks out of the room and you can hear her talking to herself down the hall) Let's see. I should probably make a pit stop at Victoria's secret on the way home. Oh, and those handcuffs I kept from the mission the other day might come in handy.
Right about this time Marshall is noticing that he and Jack are the only ones left in the room. This thought doesn't set too well with him b/c he's always been somewhat terrified of the older agent. But then again who hasn't?
Marshall: Well I guess I'll just go off and bug Carrie to tell me the gender of the baby we're having. Or maybe I'll find someone else to talk to and explain the workings of yet another of my nothing-short-of-miraculous techno gadgets, using scientific terms that no one understands and running on and on and on and on. (A/N I really love Marshall. He's so sweet, and I don't think I portrayed him in a good way, but it's the only way it works in my head. Sorry, Marshall fans!)
Marshall leaves the room and Jack is left alone to collect his thoughts. He reclines back in his chair and closes his eyes to rest for a little while. The last thing he can remember before he nods off is that he probably should've told Sydney to pack some sunscreen. But then again, they probably won't be doing anything outdoors anyway.
He wakes up a while later when he notices that Dixon and Weiss are reentering the room. They are laughing and praising each other. Both of them look pretty pleased with themselves.
Jack: So how did things go downstairs? Is Lauren a blob of goo by now? Or even better, nonexistent?
Weiss (putting on an innocent, I'm-an-angel face) Why Jack! What could you possibly be talking about? (Dropping the act) Man! You should've heard her screaming, it was music to my ears. And Dixon here did an excellent job of running her through with the stick. I have to say though that Sydney did the best job. I have never seen skin boil like that!
Jack: I thought that Sydney left a while ago.
Dixon: She did but Weiss caught her on her way out. I had sent him to get some paper towels. Fonduing a person is a realy messy business. I'll have to remember that for next time.
Jack: Next time? I don't think I want to know.
Jack starts to leave and then turns back to Dixon.
Dixon: Did you need something?
Jack: Just an explanation. If there was nothing to do today then why call us all in?
Dixon: Oh that. I just wanted to see if maybe anyone would be interested in going salsa dancing with me. I love salsa dancing but it's no fun if I'm there all by myself. It's a great chick magnet.
Weiss: Chick magnet? Count me in!
Jack: Why not? Just let me stop at home and change. Oh, Agent Weiss? Isn't there something you should be doing?
Somewhere over the open ocean, on a plane bound for Tahiti, a cell phone rings.
Vaughn (disengaging himself from Sydney, whom he had been making out with): Hello?
Weiss: Vaughn. Hey, it's Eric. Listen, Lauren's not going to be here when you get back.
Vaughn (not sounding like he cares): Who? Oh her. Why not?
Weiss: Oh, she had a little accident. Sorry man. You know I tried to save her, but that speeding El Camino just came out of nowhere.
Vaughn: I'm sure you did your best. Thanks for calling.
Weiss: Sure man. Have fun!
Vaughn puts his cell back in his pocket and reaches for his complimentary peanuts.
Sydney: What was that all about?
Vaughn: That was Weiss. Lauren's gone.
Sydney: Bummer.
Vaughn: Oh well. Whatcha gonna do? Peanut?
So how did everyone like it? That wasn't a rhetorical question. Hit the purple button and make the over worked college kid a happy person.
One last thing. I'm not saying that this is my best work. Nowhere near it in fact. But I just sat down and started writing this afternoon and this is what I did. And I kinda like how it turned out. So when you review, AND YOU WILL REVIEW, no flames. As a personal favor to me. Thanks!
One more thing and then I'll let you review. In case any of you were wondering what "tabozia bagra" meant, it's Arabic for "fat cow." I know that Lauren isn't really fat, but it's what I felt like calling her. For future reference, although I am American to the bone, I tend to cuss in French and Arabic. Multilingual cussing is just so damn fun. But I will always include a translation.
A/N2: I'm writing an Alias fic because I just can't stand the way that Alias has been lately. Vaughn and Sydney should be together, FOREVER! And Lauren should be dropped off a nice cliff somewhere and never heard from again. J.J Abrams won't even let us hate her. The least he could have done was made her a bitch. But no. He says that that would be "childish and immature and not in the show's best interest," etc. What would be in the show's best interest would be to put Vaughn and Sydney back together, hello! I think I actually heard the collective gasp at approximately 9:54 PM on the night of the second season finale, and I was too busy screaming, so it was pretty loud.
A/N3: OK last author's note and then I'll get to the story. This particular fic is just to blow off some steam because I'm a very busy college freshman and I just NEED to write something besides a class paper. I'm currently writing two other Alias fics that will be much better than this one, and I will post them whenever my professors decide to give us poor students a break, which isn't likely any time soon. But I'm making time for this one, b/c, like I said, I just need to write this. Also, I posted this fic a while ago on ff.net, but I'm reposting it b/c I thought of a few improvements. And b/c I'm hoping for a few more reviews than I got the first time.
Disclaimer: If it walks like a J.J. Abrams, and it talks like a J.J. Abrams, then it's probably J.J. Abrams, the guy who does own Alias. I don't own Alias and I never did. So I am therefore not making any money off this fic. Please don't sue. Suing me would be a waste of your time as well as mine b/c I'm a poor college freshman. And furthermore, if I did own Alias, then believe me, there would be a whole bunch of very happy Syd/Vaughn fans out there. On with the story. Enjoy!
The Dangers of Boredom
Jack Bristow walks into the CIA building on Monday morning.
Jack (muttering to himself): Another boring day at the office. Another day full of endless meetings with those stupid pricks I work with. I never should've become a spy. I should've listened to my father when he told me to play professional baseball. Maybe then I would get the admiration and respect I deserve from the public. I save the world on a daily basis, but do I even get a 'Thank you, Jack?" or a "Nice job, Jack." Nope. Instead they just say, Piss off, Jack, and don't bother me anymore!" Well, see if I help them the next time something goes wrong on a mission and they're in mortal peril.
As he passes the desks of all the agents, he gives them the usual morning glares. If there's one thing Jack Bristow's good at, it's intimidating other people. Noticing that several of the recipients of his glare are wetting their pants, he smiles to himself.
Jack (muttering again): Maybe today won't be so bad after all.
He walks into the meeting room, where Sydney, Vaughn, Weiss, Lauren, Marshall and Dixon are already seated.
Dixon: Good morning, Jack. Please, have a seat.
Sydney: Morning Dad.
Jack: Good morning, Dixon. Good morning sweetheart. The rest of you can piss off.
Sydney: Now Dad, that wasn't very nice.
Jack: Since when have I ever concerned myself with being nice to anyone I didn't like?
Sydney: Well I was just saying.
Jack (to Dixon): So what do we have on the agenda today? A Rambaldi artifact to find? A Russian satellite to disable? An evil terrorist to torture? What?
Dixon: Actually things are going pretty slow lately. There isn't a goddamn thing to do today.
Everyone is pretty shocked. No one can remember the last time they didn't have a world-in-crisis situation to avert.
Sydney: So what you're saying is that we don't have anything to do today? All right! Maybe now I can sit back, relax, and drink all the margaritas I want! I've been meaning to do that ever since I woke up in that alley in Hong Kong. This day rocks!
Lauren: Don't you think that we should probably look over our files to make sure that there's nothing wrong? America's enemies could be lying in wait to catch us off our guard. I think that we should all stay here today and-
Dixon (interrupting Lauren): Shut up, Agent Reed! No one here, or anywhere that I can think of really, likes you. You are a smelly disgusting person and I think you should be boiling in a vat of hot oil somewhere. In fact, Agent Weiss! I want you to toss her over your shoulder and follow me to the basement where the CIA does all of it's tort- uh, I mean fonduing. Yes, that's it. We can probably find a melting pot somewhere big enough, and maybe even a stick to skew her-uh I mean, give to her so that she can have fondue along with us. You like melting cheese, don't you Lauren?
Lauren: Now wait a goddamn minute! Don't you know who I am? I am Lauren Reed, daughter of Senator Reed, and wife of Michael Vaughn. And neither my father nor my husband will stand for your insolence, not to mention your threatening behavior towards me! Isn't that right, Michael?
Vaughn (caught making googly eyes at Sydney): I'm sorry what did you say?
Lauren (who's currently in the process of being tossed over Weiss's shoulder): Are you just going to let them walk off with me to do God knows what with? Michael, they're going to torture me!
Vaughn: Don't be silly. They just want to include you in their fun.
Lauren: Then why am I being carried off?
Vaughn: Eric and Dixon are just being considerate of your weak ankles.
Eric (to Dixon): Man, do I have to carry her all the way there? She smells like a skunk fart and she weighs about as much as my Uncle Morty after a holiday meal.
Lauren (being carried out of the room and down the hall): Michael! Michael! Michael why the hell aren't you-
Dixon (heard outside the room): Oh shut the hell up! Here Weiss, turn around so that I can shove one of my smelly socks in her mouth. That should quiet her down. I worked through the night and didn't have time to change, so I haven't changed them in two days or so. And even better, I'm pretty sure I stepped in something this morning.
Back in the room, everyone else, especially Vaughn and Sydney are looking pretty relieved.
Jack: I'm very grateful that Dixon did that. Now my daughter will be happy and I don't have to listen to that whining tabozia bagra anymore. Her scratchy voice was wreaking havoc on my delicate eardrums.
Vaughn: So Sydney, you mentioned lots and lots of margaritas earlier. Mind if I join you? I think you and I should take the 11:00 flight down to Tahiti and start getting drunk before that thing gets back.
Sydney: Sounds good to me. I'm just glad that I have the day off from dressing up like a whore and making international terrorists think that I want to sleep with them. Oh, don't forget to pack that box of extra large con-uh, uhm, condiments, because you never know when you might need some ketchup or mustard or something.Yeah.
Vaughn: I'll get right on that. Why don't I meet you at LAX in about an hour and a half? I'll just go book the tickets and pack and stuff. See you there!
Vaughn leaves the room. Sydney gets up and starts to follow but Jack stops her.
Jack: Have a nice time sweetheart. And don't worry. I'll make sure that Lauren has so much fun 'fonduing' that she'll be kept busy for a few weeks. In fact, don't be surprised if Vaughn gets a call that she's MIA.
Sydney: Thanks dad! Oh, if we aren't back in a few weeks, then we're in Vegas. I'll call if I need you to walk me down the aisle.
Jack: I'll be sure to have my tux dry cleaned just in case. Bye!
Sydney: Bye Dad! (She walks out of the room and you can hear her talking to herself down the hall) Let's see. I should probably make a pit stop at Victoria's secret on the way home. Oh, and those handcuffs I kept from the mission the other day might come in handy.
Right about this time Marshall is noticing that he and Jack are the only ones left in the room. This thought doesn't set too well with him b/c he's always been somewhat terrified of the older agent. But then again who hasn't?
Marshall: Well I guess I'll just go off and bug Carrie to tell me the gender of the baby we're having. Or maybe I'll find someone else to talk to and explain the workings of yet another of my nothing-short-of-miraculous techno gadgets, using scientific terms that no one understands and running on and on and on and on. (A/N I really love Marshall. He's so sweet, and I don't think I portrayed him in a good way, but it's the only way it works in my head. Sorry, Marshall fans!)
Marshall leaves the room and Jack is left alone to collect his thoughts. He reclines back in his chair and closes his eyes to rest for a little while. The last thing he can remember before he nods off is that he probably should've told Sydney to pack some sunscreen. But then again, they probably won't be doing anything outdoors anyway.
He wakes up a while later when he notices that Dixon and Weiss are reentering the room. They are laughing and praising each other. Both of them look pretty pleased with themselves.
Jack: So how did things go downstairs? Is Lauren a blob of goo by now? Or even better, nonexistent?
Weiss (putting on an innocent, I'm-an-angel face) Why Jack! What could you possibly be talking about? (Dropping the act) Man! You should've heard her screaming, it was music to my ears. And Dixon here did an excellent job of running her through with the stick. I have to say though that Sydney did the best job. I have never seen skin boil like that!
Jack: I thought that Sydney left a while ago.
Dixon: She did but Weiss caught her on her way out. I had sent him to get some paper towels. Fonduing a person is a realy messy business. I'll have to remember that for next time.
Jack: Next time? I don't think I want to know.
Jack starts to leave and then turns back to Dixon.
Dixon: Did you need something?
Jack: Just an explanation. If there was nothing to do today then why call us all in?
Dixon: Oh that. I just wanted to see if maybe anyone would be interested in going salsa dancing with me. I love salsa dancing but it's no fun if I'm there all by myself. It's a great chick magnet.
Weiss: Chick magnet? Count me in!
Jack: Why not? Just let me stop at home and change. Oh, Agent Weiss? Isn't there something you should be doing?
Somewhere over the open ocean, on a plane bound for Tahiti, a cell phone rings.
Vaughn (disengaging himself from Sydney, whom he had been making out with): Hello?
Weiss: Vaughn. Hey, it's Eric. Listen, Lauren's not going to be here when you get back.
Vaughn (not sounding like he cares): Who? Oh her. Why not?
Weiss: Oh, she had a little accident. Sorry man. You know I tried to save her, but that speeding El Camino just came out of nowhere.
Vaughn: I'm sure you did your best. Thanks for calling.
Weiss: Sure man. Have fun!
Vaughn puts his cell back in his pocket and reaches for his complimentary peanuts.
Sydney: What was that all about?
Vaughn: That was Weiss. Lauren's gone.
Sydney: Bummer.
Vaughn: Oh well. Whatcha gonna do? Peanut?
So how did everyone like it? That wasn't a rhetorical question. Hit the purple button and make the over worked college kid a happy person.
One last thing. I'm not saying that this is my best work. Nowhere near it in fact. But I just sat down and started writing this afternoon and this is what I did. And I kinda like how it turned out. So when you review, AND YOU WILL REVIEW, no flames. As a personal favor to me. Thanks!
One more thing and then I'll let you review. In case any of you were wondering what "tabozia bagra" meant, it's Arabic for "fat cow." I know that Lauren isn't really fat, but it's what I felt like calling her. For future reference, although I am American to the bone, I tend to cuss in French and Arabic. Multilingual cussing is just so damn fun. But I will always include a translation.