Illusions

She was already there when he came strolling in, nonchalance masking his irritation at already relinquishing any advantage that might have been had. She was studying something, their latest intel no doubt, and from the look on her face, he didn't have to ask whom it was regarding.

"So nice to see you too," he greeted, earning only the flick of her eyes in his direction before returning to the page in front of her. "What's the matter?" he continued, moving across the room to peek over her shoulder. "Cat got your tongue?"

He glanced at the picture she was staring at so intently and chuckled, "Or rather, cat got your husband's tongue, love?"

She glared at him and all but threw the stack of photos into his chest. "You're late."

He shrugged, calmly organizing and flipping through the file now in his possession. "I do apologize, I was a bit tied up."

She noted the light of the warehouse shining dully off dried blood circling the wrist now handling the photos, but said nothing about that. Instead she stalked to the other side of the room, crossed her arms and turned back to him. "Well, while you were out playing cowboy again, I've been looking through that file. It turns out that there were a number of important details missing from the official report made to the NSC, including the recovery of a map obtained on their most recent mission. The map is-"

"I don't think that was the only detail left out of the report," he interrupted, arching an eyebrow as he found a photo that must have so enraptured his partner. "Why Ms. Reed, I do believe that Sydney Bristow is fraternizing with your husband. And here I had always assumed that the CIA discouraged relationships between agents, especially when one of them is married."

Her eyes narrowed, "Sydney Bristow's relationship Michael Vaughn is not the concern of the Covenant at this point in time, and therefore it is not mine."

He tilted his head, "Perhaps. But you know as well as I do that the closer she gets to your husband, the further from him your access becomes. The Covenant gave you this assignment for a reason, and if those means are not being achieved, changes will be made." He paused, glancing again to the man she had coerced into wedlock. "Doesn't it concern you that one of possible courses of action would be to eliminate the man you claim to be in love with?"

She smiled coldly, "Is that a hint of jealously I detect, love? Does it matter to you if my husband is eliminated?"

But he ignored the bait, "Of course it does. If he is eliminated, we will have significantly more obstacles in our way than at the present, the least of which would be a grief-stricken and thoroughly reckless Sydney Bristow. It would be in all our best interests, though most specifically yours I might add, if you were to reclaim your husband from the wicked witch of the CIA's clutches."

He saw the change in her eyes before she could mask it, and he leaned down against one of the long-abandoned crates. "How intriguing. It bothers you, doesn't it, that he still loves her?"

"Don't be stupid," she snapped. "He was my assignment, nothing more. If it weren't for his use to the Covenant, I never would have looked twice at him. You know he's not my type." She stared pointedly at him, as if pointing her out type. He knew he appealed to women, but not always for the reasons he liked. They used him as much as he used them, and Lauren Reed was the exception if only because she took more as well.

"And yet, you have spent two years of your life looking twice at him. Even in all the lies, you must have grown attached, simply out of necessity. You could not have convinced him of your affections if you were completely cold to him." She opened her mouth to respond, but he tossed the files on the crate, the photos scattering beside him as he got to his feet and walked over to him. "Don't deny it. This isn't about the Covenant now, this is about you and me. I am not accusing you of failing, or even falling in love with him. We both know you wouldn't be foolish enough to do that."

But in her silence, perhaps he had his answer. He tilted his head, stepping closer and forcing her to look up at him. "Or would you?"

She glared at him, holding her ground. "No, of course not. I am not, nor have I ever been in love with Michael Vaughn. I might have grown attached, as a scientist does to one of his lab rats, but that does not stop the scientist, and it will not stop me."

But then she faltered slightly, dropping his eyes. Almost hesitantly, almost tenderly-though he knew he was incapable of behaving hesitantly or tenderly-he touched her cheek and pulled her eyes back to his, dropping his hand as soon as he had what he wanted; he continued only after he had her undivided attention.

"Then what? Darling, you may have the world fooled, but I've seen the way you look at those pictures. They affect you. If it's not because you're jealous, then what is it?"

She turned away from him, and he noted that she fought to keep her arms at her sides instead of wrapping them around herself the way she wanted to. But they both knew weakness could not be allowed, not even in this place, so he let her battle her demons alone.

"I don't doubt what we do," she began after a moment, "And I don't doubt the methods we use to get what we want and what we need. Michael Vaughn was a necessary if involuntary asset, and I am not ashamed of the method by which we acquired him. Love again and again has proven to reduce men to useless and pathetic shells of their former selves; I was simply using it to my advantage in order to gain something to offset that inevitable loss."

He arched an eyebrow, "Are you talking about love or sex?"

She laughed, the sound cool and unnatural. "You mean it's not all the same thing to men?" She shook her head, "No, I actually mean love. The great Senator Reed, the untouchable Jack Bristow and even the devoted Michael Vaughn. All felled because they loved without abandon or common sense women who were specifically sent to destroy them. Even Arvin Sloan faltered because of his wife, and she wasn't even sent to interfere, she was simply coincidence."

He considered her examples, "Your father was felled by love, but it wasn't love for his wife. Yes, she manipulated him for the whole of their marriage, but he died still wanting to protect you, Lauren. And for that you cannot fault him. Especially when, if I recall correctly, you could not carry out your task of disposing of him yourself."

She shook her head as much to erase memories as to counter his point. "But the fact remains that he was manipulated by my mother, used and then tossed aside when she was finished with him. He loved her more than life itself, and it killed him. What kind of fools can still believe in love?"

He was beginning to see where this might be going, but the idea seemed too incredulous, he had to find out more before he could be certain.

"As for Jack Bristow-"

"As for Jack Bristow," he interrupted, curiosity pushing his theory to fruition. "Yes, Irina Derevko was sent to seduce him and extract information. She completed her mission, and that knowledge destroyed him. But he destroyed her as well. He managed to do the one thing that no one would ever had thought possible-he made Irina Derevko fall in love."

Lauren scoffed but he would not be deterred. "I did not know her before she was Laura Bristow, but I have seen her react as more than simply Derevko when it comes to Agent Bristow and their daughter. True, she needs Sydney if she is to complete Rambaldi's endgame, but she does not need Jack. Time and again, he has hindered her efforts, and not only has she refrained from killing him, she has also acted to protect him. He has done the same for her. Even when to the absolute detriment of both their goals, they acted to protect each other and their daughter. Though I do not claim to understand it, this is something I have some to expect in my dealings with the two of them."

He began walking towards her, his steps sure as he saw unreadable emotions flashing across her face. "And Michael Vaughn loved Sydney Bristow so much that even you, you who studied him to please him and be his ideal companion, even you could only manipulate him into marriage as a salve for his grief. I mean no disrespects to your work, and indeed a lesser woman would have failed to achieve so much. But his love for her never died, never faltered, even when he was confronted with irrefutable evidence that she was gone. He was forced to move on, and he thought that marriage to you would be the way to do that, but he never stopped loving her."

"Are you quite finished?" Her words were sharp but missing their usual venom.

"Is that what bothers you so?" he asked, his voice almost gentle beneath the usual steel tone. "Not that he loves her instead of you, but that she is worthy of such love, such utter devotion, that even as so he nobly honors the vows he made to a woman he cannot love, he is drawn back to her. And you wonder if you are worthy of that same devotion, if any man would or even could have those same feelings for you."

"Of all the ridiculous-"

He grabbed her arms as she tried to brush by him, "Don't run from me. We both know you have nowhere to go. You and I, we are the same in our isolation. Our allegiances are ever changing and our enemies ever growing. Don't throw this away."

She ceased her struggle, her eyes still angry as she looked at him, "Throw what away? Us? There is no "us," love, only a partnership orchestrated by the Covenant. And when that partnership ceases to be convenient, it will be over. Don't pretend that it is anything more than that. Any illusions of that put us and our work in danger."

He searched her face for a moment, finally releasing her arms and stepping away. "My apologies, Ms. Reed. I thought for a moment, I could be more than simply a business partner to you. I was obviously mistaken."

She walked past him, picking up her coat from where it had been placed next to the long-forgotten file. He watched as she put on the coat, rebuilding the facade as she straightened her appearance. "Nothing to be concerned about, love. We all make mistakes."

"Yes, we do," he responded softly, noting how she stiffened at his voice. "Though sometimes, they can be avoided if we are careful."

Lauren Reed, also known as Mrs. Michael Vaughn, glanced at the file as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked towards the exit.

"Don't forget to dispose of that properly. I have enough to worry about without leaving such evidence just lying around. I'll contact you when I have anything more to discuss."

"Lauren-"

"Don't. Just . . . don't." The shadows from poor lightening prevented him from reading her expression as she stepped out of the room. "Good night, Mr. Sark."

He watched her go, and stared at the closed door for a moment before remembering himself. Slowly he moved towards the strewn file, gathered the photos up and stuffed them back into the pocket without looking at any of them.

He had seen enough tonight.

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