All disclaimers, summaries, and other assorted goodies in Chapter 1
A/N: Firstly thank you to everyone for their reviews. I know I go on about how reviews don't change my mind -and they don't- but I must thank everyone for their encouragement and generally for the 'nice things' they had to say.
Secondly, I promise you that Sydney will be appearing in this story in a non-non-corporeal way (to all those who posed that question).
And thirdly just exactly how much older than Sydney is Vaughn? I've read a range from the same age to 8 years older. I thought it was 7/8 years myself, but I'm willing to take a poll from all those who suggest various ages.
Lastly, the chapter is named after a poem by TS Eliot, and I purloined the second sentence from him.
Oh and also, despite the time between chapters, I do think about this story quite regularly and strangely enough I actually know where I'm going with it. I hope you all like the trip I'm taking you on, and whilst this chapter is rather unremittingly angsty, I promise you not all will be quite so dark.
Here endeth the lesson:)
PS This Vaughn is not the Vaughn of the TV show. Remember that. He's looking through a glass darkly.
**************************************
Chapter 1
The Hollow Man
So this is how it ended. Not with a bang but with a whimper. Years of blood sweat and tears had been poured into this moment, and all Vaughn could feel was numb. It wasn't surprising really. But he had thought this day -the day she had worked so long and hard to see-, the day they had pinned all their hopes on, would have actually made him feel ... something ... anything. But as he walked through the debris strewing the floor of the SD-6 main office, the numbness, which had encased him for so many years, only seemed to seep further into his bones.
In another life he would have felt sympathy for all the remaining agents of SD-6, finding out they were unwitting traitors to the country they thought they were protecting. He might have mourned the loss of lives both sides had suffered -Sloane had trained his agents well, and most had thought it was a repeat of the McKenna incident-, but Vaughn just wandered sightlessly through the mess.
" Agent Vaughn, Agent Vaughn...Michael." Hearing Jack call him by given name, snapped him out of the daze he was falling deeper into.
"What?" the deadened quality to his voice worried Jack, but it wasn't the time to query whether he was all right or not. Jack knew the answer, because he'd been standing in Vaughn's shoes about thirty years ago. Michael Vaughn was never going to be 'all right' ever again. He had debated the wisdom, of sharing this latest piece of news with Vaughn, but after all the years working together, after all they had been through, Jack respected Vaughn too much to try and shield him from anything. Besides he could deal with an angry Vaughn, he was used to it. He didn't think he could deal with the near catatonic man in front of him. There'd been only one other time he'd seen Vaughn like this, and that wasn't a time he ever wanted to revisit.
"Agent Vaughn, we have Sloane."
************************************************
It was amazing how those five words had galvanized the man striding the down the hall ahead of him. Not only had he managed to crack through the catatonia, he seemed to have cracked the veneer of control Vaughn had managed for the last two years. Agents scuttled out of the way as he headed towards Sloane's cell, and even Jack found himself wondering if he'd be able to hold Vaughn back if he needed to. He had a very strong feeling he would need to.
Sloane's cell was guarded heavily -as were all the Alliance leaders cells- but by some error neither the names Vaughn or Bristow were on the list of people allowed to see him.
At least Jack hoped it was an error. Heads would definitely wish they were rolling if it was some departmental ploy to discipline them, or to try and show who was in charge.
"Open the door." Vaughn requested tersely to the agents guarding the door.
"Name and ID please."
"Bristow and Vaughn." Jack answered, since Vaughn seemed cut off to anything except the door in front of him and what lay beyond it.
"I'm sorry sir, but those names don't appear to be on the list."
"Just open the fucking door" Vaughn ground out, never taking his eyes off the door.
"Unless you're authorised personnel, I'm afraid I can't let you through." The note of fear in the agent's voice was palpable, even to his partner who decided to take control of the situation by physically restraining Vaughn -who was using a modified code descrambler Marshall had made him, to get the access code.
"Sir you can't use that here. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to..."
Before the man had even moved into position, Vaughn was on him -his arm wedged deeply against the terrified agent's larynx.
"Don't. Even. Think. About. It." He never raised his voice. He knew he didn't have to. "Now you or your partner are going to get on that phone, ring extension 1013 -which should take you straight to Director Devlin- and tell them that Agent Vaughn and Agent Bristow want unrestricted access to cell DD1121. And then ask, just who the fuck wrote up these lists. Ok?"
Feeling the agent's attempt at a nod, Vaughn let him go unconcernedly and returned his full focus to the door.
He blocked out Jack's disapproving gaze, he blocked out the harsh gagging and coughing of the agent he had just terrorized, he blocked out the muted, hurried whispers of the other agent...all he wanted to hear were the tumblers of the locks moving.
"You can go right through sir." The other agent -the one he hadn't made temporarily mute- nervously told him, careful to stay well out of reach.
"Thank you."
Vaughn's politeness worried Jack more than his violence did. The violence was expected; God knows he himself had been about to physically persuade those men to let them in, but the sharp swings from violence to seeming normality that Vaughn was displaying...that worried Jack.
The last time Vaughn had been like that, it had taken close to a year to get him back, and even then it was tacitly understood that he was only playing by the rules -albeit their version of the rules- because of what he had to do.
Before he could enter, Jack pulled him back.
"Agent Bristow?" The studied formality let Jack know just how close Vaughn was to the edge.
"I need you to know something." An infinitesimal nod of the head was all Jack got to let him know Vaughn was listening "I need to know if you'll be able to stay in control in there"
"I promise I won't let him scar." Vaughn bit out, before turning his back on Jack and walking into cell DD1121.
************************************
Arvin Sloane had shriveled through years of looking over his shoulder, but to Vaughn he was the embodiment of most of his nightmares, both waking and sleeping. It seemed strange that such a physically unimposing person had ruled his existence -in one way or another- for close to five years. The urge to hurt him was strong, surpassed only by the urge to see him pay for everything he'd done. It was that urge which kept Vaughn sane ... barely.
For the first time in two years though, Vaughn found himself in the position of observer rather than interrogator. Both he and Jack knew that if he alone were to ask the questions, Arvin Sloane would not survive the first session. As it was they needed him to survive, since he had vital information about Rambaldi that the CIA needed.
"Ahhh Jack... I should have known that betrayal was in the genes. I have to congratulate you though; you're definitely a better actor than your daughter. Although I know I don't need to labor that point." The smooth ironic tones of Sloane quickly reminded Vaughn of the dangers of letting his mind wander.
"A pleasure Arvin. Truly." He kept control, but Sloane saw the muscle twitching in his jaw and smiled as all sated predators do. Done with Jack for the time being he turned his attention to the stoic young man next to his ex-associate.
"And you...you I also know...you were in the pictures they showed me...ah, a name to a face...you could only be the famous Agent Vaughn...I've heard a lot about you ...you have to excuse me though, I'm a little hazy on some things ...deciphering delirious ramblings is really a very tricky process. "
The crack of bone against flesh whipped through the room and Jack knew he had broken Sloane's jaw. In actual fact he had probably just done a favour, Vaughn wouldn't have stopped there.
"Please do me the courtesy of paying attention Arvin. God knows I had to sit through enough of your long-winded, pompous, directives. Now I want to know about Rambaldi. I want to know, what you know about The Final Design."
"No you don't" The answer was calm if muffled by the blood pooling in Sloane's mouth " The CIA wants to know about Rambaldi. Neither you, nor Mr Vaughn give a damn about what exactly Rambaldi's final invention was. You want to know about Sydney. You want to know how she died. You want to know who killed her. You want to know if she was in pain. Isn't that right Jack? And what about you Mr Vaughn? Don't you want to know? I know you do. You want to know about the screaming, the pain-soaked rambling, all the indignities she had to suffer, the ..."
He got no further. The tenuous grip Vaughn had hung onto slipped, and before Jack could do anything Vaughn was on Sloane, beating him with a fury so focused, it took Jack and the two other agents -who had been hovering outside- a full minute to get him away off Sloane.
"She called for you continuously you know." Sloane hissed -through broken teeth- at the man being restrained in front of him "She was so certain you would save her. One sentence over and over again through the delirium .... 'He's my guardian angel'. She thought you would save her Mr Vaughn. Even with her last breath she believed that."
The second blow Jack dealt Sloane knocked him out. Paying no more attention to the bloody heap, Jack turned his attention back to Vaughn who stood limply between two terrified agents.
"You two," he ordered the silent partners "take Sloane and get him some medical treatment. If anyone questions what happened, direct them to me. Do you understand?"
With quick nods, and quicker movements, the agents left the room, with their unconscious cargo in tow.
"I can't be here Jack." The sharp staccato of Vaughn's words broke the heavy silence of the room "I can't do it. I'll kill him if I stay and right now, I can't see the downside to that. What happens now Jack? Two and a half years ago you gave me a reason to get up every morning. I did it. It's done. Now what? I thought getting Sloane would be enough, but all I feel is ...nothing. And really should we stop with Sloane? True he made her life hell, but so did the CIA for that matter...so did I "
With a shuddering sigh Vaughn looked up, and Jack saw just how old his soul had grown in the last few years. Vaughn was so much older. Older than him by years. Not bothering to wait for a reply, Vaughn left.
**************************************
He wasn't really surprised by Jack's impromptu visit; it had turned a habit of his in fact. At least once a week Jack found a way to wind up at his apartment, always with work of course, but always making sure that the house was suicide-free.
The time he had tried, he really hadn't expected Jack of all people to stop him, or find him for that matter. He had thought Eric probably, he had hoped not his mother and as the Finlandia slid down his throat whilst he detachedly watched the blood pool around him, he thought that most likely it would be his landlord. Rent was due the day after, after all.
Frankly he still wasn't sure if it could really be classified as a suicide attempt or not. It was more a case of self-mutilation gone wrong, or maybe just a little too right. He hadn't thought that anyone had noticed his new penchant for pain, but he had underestimated the acumen of Jack Bristow.
He had appreciated Jack's intervention then, but this time he definitely didn't. The sweet sharp sting of the blade had calmed him to the point where he no longer heard Sloane's words ringing in his ears, but Jack's continuous pounding wouldn't let him stay there.
Knowing there was no point to ignoring him -Jack had broken the door down before- Vaughn swiftly saw to the blood and then opened the door to a strangely disheveled and visibly excited Jack Bristow.
"I have your reason for you Vaughn. It may just be a reason for both of us."
End Part 1
*****************************************************
A/N: Firstly thank you to everyone for their reviews. I know I go on about how reviews don't change my mind -and they don't- but I must thank everyone for their encouragement and generally for the 'nice things' they had to say.
Secondly, I promise you that Sydney will be appearing in this story in a non-non-corporeal way (to all those who posed that question).
And thirdly just exactly how much older than Sydney is Vaughn? I've read a range from the same age to 8 years older. I thought it was 7/8 years myself, but I'm willing to take a poll from all those who suggest various ages.
Lastly, the chapter is named after a poem by TS Eliot, and I purloined the second sentence from him.
Oh and also, despite the time between chapters, I do think about this story quite regularly and strangely enough I actually know where I'm going with it. I hope you all like the trip I'm taking you on, and whilst this chapter is rather unremittingly angsty, I promise you not all will be quite so dark.
Here endeth the lesson:)
PS This Vaughn is not the Vaughn of the TV show. Remember that. He's looking through a glass darkly.
**************************************
Chapter 1
The Hollow Man
So this is how it ended. Not with a bang but with a whimper. Years of blood sweat and tears had been poured into this moment, and all Vaughn could feel was numb. It wasn't surprising really. But he had thought this day -the day she had worked so long and hard to see-, the day they had pinned all their hopes on, would have actually made him feel ... something ... anything. But as he walked through the debris strewing the floor of the SD-6 main office, the numbness, which had encased him for so many years, only seemed to seep further into his bones.
In another life he would have felt sympathy for all the remaining agents of SD-6, finding out they were unwitting traitors to the country they thought they were protecting. He might have mourned the loss of lives both sides had suffered -Sloane had trained his agents well, and most had thought it was a repeat of the McKenna incident-, but Vaughn just wandered sightlessly through the mess.
" Agent Vaughn, Agent Vaughn...Michael." Hearing Jack call him by given name, snapped him out of the daze he was falling deeper into.
"What?" the deadened quality to his voice worried Jack, but it wasn't the time to query whether he was all right or not. Jack knew the answer, because he'd been standing in Vaughn's shoes about thirty years ago. Michael Vaughn was never going to be 'all right' ever again. He had debated the wisdom, of sharing this latest piece of news with Vaughn, but after all the years working together, after all they had been through, Jack respected Vaughn too much to try and shield him from anything. Besides he could deal with an angry Vaughn, he was used to it. He didn't think he could deal with the near catatonic man in front of him. There'd been only one other time he'd seen Vaughn like this, and that wasn't a time he ever wanted to revisit.
"Agent Vaughn, we have Sloane."
************************************************
It was amazing how those five words had galvanized the man striding the down the hall ahead of him. Not only had he managed to crack through the catatonia, he seemed to have cracked the veneer of control Vaughn had managed for the last two years. Agents scuttled out of the way as he headed towards Sloane's cell, and even Jack found himself wondering if he'd be able to hold Vaughn back if he needed to. He had a very strong feeling he would need to.
Sloane's cell was guarded heavily -as were all the Alliance leaders cells- but by some error neither the names Vaughn or Bristow were on the list of people allowed to see him.
At least Jack hoped it was an error. Heads would definitely wish they were rolling if it was some departmental ploy to discipline them, or to try and show who was in charge.
"Open the door." Vaughn requested tersely to the agents guarding the door.
"Name and ID please."
"Bristow and Vaughn." Jack answered, since Vaughn seemed cut off to anything except the door in front of him and what lay beyond it.
"I'm sorry sir, but those names don't appear to be on the list."
"Just open the fucking door" Vaughn ground out, never taking his eyes off the door.
"Unless you're authorised personnel, I'm afraid I can't let you through." The note of fear in the agent's voice was palpable, even to his partner who decided to take control of the situation by physically restraining Vaughn -who was using a modified code descrambler Marshall had made him, to get the access code.
"Sir you can't use that here. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to..."
Before the man had even moved into position, Vaughn was on him -his arm wedged deeply against the terrified agent's larynx.
"Don't. Even. Think. About. It." He never raised his voice. He knew he didn't have to. "Now you or your partner are going to get on that phone, ring extension 1013 -which should take you straight to Director Devlin- and tell them that Agent Vaughn and Agent Bristow want unrestricted access to cell DD1121. And then ask, just who the fuck wrote up these lists. Ok?"
Feeling the agent's attempt at a nod, Vaughn let him go unconcernedly and returned his full focus to the door.
He blocked out Jack's disapproving gaze, he blocked out the harsh gagging and coughing of the agent he had just terrorized, he blocked out the muted, hurried whispers of the other agent...all he wanted to hear were the tumblers of the locks moving.
"You can go right through sir." The other agent -the one he hadn't made temporarily mute- nervously told him, careful to stay well out of reach.
"Thank you."
Vaughn's politeness worried Jack more than his violence did. The violence was expected; God knows he himself had been about to physically persuade those men to let them in, but the sharp swings from violence to seeming normality that Vaughn was displaying...that worried Jack.
The last time Vaughn had been like that, it had taken close to a year to get him back, and even then it was tacitly understood that he was only playing by the rules -albeit their version of the rules- because of what he had to do.
Before he could enter, Jack pulled him back.
"Agent Bristow?" The studied formality let Jack know just how close Vaughn was to the edge.
"I need you to know something." An infinitesimal nod of the head was all Jack got to let him know Vaughn was listening "I need to know if you'll be able to stay in control in there"
"I promise I won't let him scar." Vaughn bit out, before turning his back on Jack and walking into cell DD1121.
************************************
Arvin Sloane had shriveled through years of looking over his shoulder, but to Vaughn he was the embodiment of most of his nightmares, both waking and sleeping. It seemed strange that such a physically unimposing person had ruled his existence -in one way or another- for close to five years. The urge to hurt him was strong, surpassed only by the urge to see him pay for everything he'd done. It was that urge which kept Vaughn sane ... barely.
For the first time in two years though, Vaughn found himself in the position of observer rather than interrogator. Both he and Jack knew that if he alone were to ask the questions, Arvin Sloane would not survive the first session. As it was they needed him to survive, since he had vital information about Rambaldi that the CIA needed.
"Ahhh Jack... I should have known that betrayal was in the genes. I have to congratulate you though; you're definitely a better actor than your daughter. Although I know I don't need to labor that point." The smooth ironic tones of Sloane quickly reminded Vaughn of the dangers of letting his mind wander.
"A pleasure Arvin. Truly." He kept control, but Sloane saw the muscle twitching in his jaw and smiled as all sated predators do. Done with Jack for the time being he turned his attention to the stoic young man next to his ex-associate.
"And you...you I also know...you were in the pictures they showed me...ah, a name to a face...you could only be the famous Agent Vaughn...I've heard a lot about you ...you have to excuse me though, I'm a little hazy on some things ...deciphering delirious ramblings is really a very tricky process. "
The crack of bone against flesh whipped through the room and Jack knew he had broken Sloane's jaw. In actual fact he had probably just done a favour, Vaughn wouldn't have stopped there.
"Please do me the courtesy of paying attention Arvin. God knows I had to sit through enough of your long-winded, pompous, directives. Now I want to know about Rambaldi. I want to know, what you know about The Final Design."
"No you don't" The answer was calm if muffled by the blood pooling in Sloane's mouth " The CIA wants to know about Rambaldi. Neither you, nor Mr Vaughn give a damn about what exactly Rambaldi's final invention was. You want to know about Sydney. You want to know how she died. You want to know who killed her. You want to know if she was in pain. Isn't that right Jack? And what about you Mr Vaughn? Don't you want to know? I know you do. You want to know about the screaming, the pain-soaked rambling, all the indignities she had to suffer, the ..."
He got no further. The tenuous grip Vaughn had hung onto slipped, and before Jack could do anything Vaughn was on Sloane, beating him with a fury so focused, it took Jack and the two other agents -who had been hovering outside- a full minute to get him away off Sloane.
"She called for you continuously you know." Sloane hissed -through broken teeth- at the man being restrained in front of him "She was so certain you would save her. One sentence over and over again through the delirium .... 'He's my guardian angel'. She thought you would save her Mr Vaughn. Even with her last breath she believed that."
The second blow Jack dealt Sloane knocked him out. Paying no more attention to the bloody heap, Jack turned his attention back to Vaughn who stood limply between two terrified agents.
"You two," he ordered the silent partners "take Sloane and get him some medical treatment. If anyone questions what happened, direct them to me. Do you understand?"
With quick nods, and quicker movements, the agents left the room, with their unconscious cargo in tow.
"I can't be here Jack." The sharp staccato of Vaughn's words broke the heavy silence of the room "I can't do it. I'll kill him if I stay and right now, I can't see the downside to that. What happens now Jack? Two and a half years ago you gave me a reason to get up every morning. I did it. It's done. Now what? I thought getting Sloane would be enough, but all I feel is ...nothing. And really should we stop with Sloane? True he made her life hell, but so did the CIA for that matter...so did I "
With a shuddering sigh Vaughn looked up, and Jack saw just how old his soul had grown in the last few years. Vaughn was so much older. Older than him by years. Not bothering to wait for a reply, Vaughn left.
**************************************
He wasn't really surprised by Jack's impromptu visit; it had turned a habit of his in fact. At least once a week Jack found a way to wind up at his apartment, always with work of course, but always making sure that the house was suicide-free.
The time he had tried, he really hadn't expected Jack of all people to stop him, or find him for that matter. He had thought Eric probably, he had hoped not his mother and as the Finlandia slid down his throat whilst he detachedly watched the blood pool around him, he thought that most likely it would be his landlord. Rent was due the day after, after all.
Frankly he still wasn't sure if it could really be classified as a suicide attempt or not. It was more a case of self-mutilation gone wrong, or maybe just a little too right. He hadn't thought that anyone had noticed his new penchant for pain, but he had underestimated the acumen of Jack Bristow.
He had appreciated Jack's intervention then, but this time he definitely didn't. The sweet sharp sting of the blade had calmed him to the point where he no longer heard Sloane's words ringing in his ears, but Jack's continuous pounding wouldn't let him stay there.
Knowing there was no point to ignoring him -Jack had broken the door down before- Vaughn swiftly saw to the blood and then opened the door to a strangely disheveled and visibly excited Jack Bristow.
"I have your reason for you Vaughn. It may just be a reason for both of us."
End Part 1
*****************************************************