Blood Binds – But Betrayal Blinds
FIVE – Renaissance of Deception
Rating: PG-13 (Sexual Situation)
Setting: LA, Unknown Location in Eastern Europe, Air Space over the Atlantic
Characters: Lauren Reed, Michael Vaughn, Dr. Barnett, Steph Mariani (Eliza Dushku), Aiden Ivanov (Hugh Dancy), Sark, Abs Michaelis (Jessica Alba), Allison Doren, Jack Bristow, Eric Weiss, Marcus Dixon, Sydney Bristow, McKenas Cole, Simon Walker mentionedWill Tippin, Elle Williams (Maggie Gyllenhaal)
Length: 3,712 Words
Four inch black Gucci heels click on the solid cement floor with every step. Lauren Reed walks like a bitch with a purpose past all the gray tones - like an incomplete paint by number. Her face is in an angry scowl as she passes the empty jail cells, every noise she makes echoing like a bass drum in her ears. A tall, slim guard accompanies her with a perfectly even professional hair cut, who walks a few steps in front of her. Her blonde hair rests on her black pin-stripe suit clad shoulders with curls at the ends, and every step she takes has a bit of a bounce to it. She is pissed off, and she doesn't care who knows it.
She stops when she reaches his cell, pressing her red lips together. The guard unlocks the door, and she enters before he locks it once more. So this is what it's like to be in the custody of the US Government. The guard then stands just outside the cell. Lauren turns to him, anger in her eyes. "You can leave." She states. He shakes his head, preparing to tell her why he has to stay. Instantly her eyes glare at the man - furious with the lack of privacy. "No, you will leave - this is my husband. Go." She slowly says with bold words. The guard takes a deep breath before walking away, and Lauren turns to face Vaughn who sits on the small bed. His suit jacket is folded nicely, draped across the other end, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, his sleeves rolled up.
"Lauren," Vaughn sighs, shaking his head. She stands before him, her weight resting on one hip. Her lips are still pressed together, and she waits to hear the excuses that are guaranteed to come from him. "I am... so sorry. I wasn't thinking." He says. She takes a deep breath, letting it out heavily. Her arms are folded across her chest, and Vaughn just sits in shame, words coming slowly. "I lost my temper - I don't know what happened... Dixon threw me in here." He groans, and suddenly stops speaking the second he sees Lauren's hand up in the air. She stares at him, then shakes her head, like a disappointed parent in response to a pathetic report card. Vaughn has been sentenced to the biggest detention of his life, and he deserves to be punished for acting like such a child. He threw a chair across the room and pushed everything off of Dixon's desk. He's damn right he wasn't thinking.
"Michael..." She trails. She watches as he looks up at her. And he's taking the role of the child - the first time detention attendee. The first 'D' ever seen on his report card in his life. Lauren sighs. "Come here." He quickly stands and walks to his wife, taking a deep breath. He's never feared her - save for right now. The shame he feels is immeasurable. She reaches forward and picks at his shirt. "You look like a complete mess." She scolds. He looks into her brown eyes, and a sly grin spreads across her face. "Seeing you like this..." She licks her lips, giving them a fine layer of moisture. His green eyes darken in passion, watching his wife make a pass at him in his jail cell. The moment is surreal and he really can't help what he feels, reaching forward, grabbing the sides of her face. Instantly her lips are on his, kissing him hungrily. And he kisses back, not knowing what has come over him. "Oh God, Michael." She pants, pushing him backward toward the bed.
Vaughn lays down with Lauren straddling him in the small bunk. His hands touch her like he used to - before Sydney was back, and when he still burned for her. He lets his them slowly run down her back to her thighs, slightly bringing her skirt up with them, so he can feel her legs. She kisses his neck, as she, at the same time unbuttons his shirt, revealing his hard abs. "Lauren," Vaughn finds the name escaping his mouth as the woman kisses his bare chest, rubbing and exploring his muscular body. He reaches up and pushes her suit jacket off hastily. It lands on the floor, and his hands are quick, finding the buttons on her white blouse. "Lauren, I've missed you." He mumbles, and she continues to kiss his body, while the man struggles to reach the buttons on her blouse. She pulls away and looks at him, smiling down at his face while he works the buttons.
She then leans in and let's her lips graze his ear. "You've been bad." She whispers at him with her voice taking on tones and portraying things he misses from her, as he finishes unbuttoning her blouse, revealing her black lacy bra. Vaughn's mouth is quickly on the woman's neck, kissing and sucking on her collarbone. He has been bad. He just never knew that doing something like this would ignite such a passion within his wife. And he truly didn't do anything that bad - just lose his temper with Dixon. She's panting as she kisses all over his face, letting her pelvis tease him. Instantly both freeze, like teens caught on the basement couch, as they hear someone coughing. Both Vaughn and Lauren slowly turn to see the owner of the cough, embarrassment painted in shades of red on both faces.
Dr. Barnett stands just outside Vaughn's cell with the guard from before, holding a pad of paper and a pen. Lauren stands, and quickly begins buttoning her shirt, as does Vaughn. "I see I'm interrupting something..." Barnett trails, watching the way Vaughn picks Lauren's jacket up off the floor, taking a deep breath. He dusts it off, before handing it to his wife. She smiles at him, accepting the piece of clothing, and finishes the rest of Vaughn's buttons on his shirt for him. She feels guilty, but she also generally feels for Vaughn - feelings she hasn't felt for her husband in almost a year.
"No." Lauren takes a deep breath. "I was just leaving." She leans in and kisses Vaughn getting lovely sensations in the pit of her stomach has her lips press to his. She feels like it's magic, pulling away just before it turns passionate. She lets her hands rest on his biceps, before she finally lets him go. "When do you suppose you'll be... sprung?" She asks, hesitating on the final word. Vaughn smiles, letting a tiny laugh escape his mouth. And he's smiling at her the way she's seen him smile at Sydney so many times. The guard unlocks the cell, waiting for Lauren to leave.
Vaughn kisses his wife on the upper cheek right by her ear, then on the forehead. "Dixon said I'd be in here for a few hours - until I could cool off." Lauren nods, smiling back at him - the way she's seen Sydney smile at him so many times. And he then watches as she leaves, Barnett taking her place in the cell. Immediately he misses her.
"Agent Vaughn, I'm here to talk with you about your anger." Dr. Barnett states. Vaughn stares at the woman, sitting down on his bunk. Why now? he thinks, watching Lauren walk away, her four inch black Gucci heels clicking on the solid cement floor.
Steph watches the way Aiden crosses the room, dimming the lights. She sits on the bed, legs curled around to the side, and all of her long curly hair resting on one shoulder. Her head is slightly tilted, as she watches him cross the room in the other direction. He sits down in a dark brown leather chair, picking a book up off the nightstand. The Aeneid is all the binding says, in gold leaf lettering. The book its self is hard back, covered in deep blue cloth - old and antique. She licks her lips, staring at him. Why must he read? "Ya know..." Her voice trails, causing him to look up at her. She smiles. "It's really bad for your eyes to read in this kind of lighting." She states. Aiden smiles, nodding. He reaches over and turns the lamp that rests on the table next to him, on.
This frustrates Steph to no end. Why can't he just get a clue? Does she have to take all of her clothes off, lay on the bed and say 'do me now'? She should certainly hope not. She'd like to think, at least, that she has a little more class than that. She rubs her eyes, looking up at the man who seems to have completely submerged himself into a world of Latin words. He's reading of a time of Gods and Goddesses, completely ignoring his closest thing to Mt. Olympus that sits across the room, desperately waiting for him. Steph knows she should probably leave the room, find something else to do, because once Aiden begins to read or begins to do something in 'his time' he doesn't like to be interrupted. Introvert could never begin to describe the alone time this boy needs on a daily basis. He has to be able to sit in solitude, meditate and reflect on the day. And that usually is coupled with a good book of some kind, furthering his knowledge of culture and knowledge of self.
But this time, something is making her push. She stands, leaving the bed and walking in his direction. Maybe this will get his attention, because bottom line she burns for him. Aiden looks up at her as she walks in his direction, and he moves the book away, letting her slide into his lap. Her lower back rests on the arm of the chair, and she places her right arm around his neck, running her fingers through his curly hair. Her body fits perfectly with his. He's tall and muscular, while she is somewhat petite, yet powerful. "'ania, have you ever read The Aeneid?" He questions. She looks down. She always feels so very uncultured around him. Because for her - if it's not going to help her further her skills in torture and interrogation, truly any of her areas of expertise, she doesn't read it. Steph doesn't read for pleasure, she reads for profit.
Aiden smiles, knowing her answer, and quickly opens the book back to the page he was reading. She looks down at it, seeing Latin projected back into her eyes. He loves to read books in their original languages. "Well it's about this guy named Aeneas. He's sort of the Odysseus to this Odyssey. It was written by a guy named Virgil. And... so Aeneas and his fellow Trojans sail from Troy, which as been destroyed by the Greeks, for Italy. He's destined to found Rome. Aeneas tells of the sack of Troy that ended the Trojan War after ten years of Greek siege. As I'm sure you know, in the final campaign, the Trojans were tricked when they accepted into their city walls a wooden horse that, unbeknownst to them, harbored several Greek soldiers in its hollow belly." Aiden continues to speak, and Steph looks up at his face, just enjoying his words.
Aiden's eyes seem to kind of gloss over as he tells her the story. Steph feels enchanted when he does stuff like this - let her in to who he really is. He doesn't like to take his guard down, and doesn't do it often. "The arrival of the Trojans in Italy begins quite peacefully." His Russian accent seems to disappear at times like these. "See, King Latinus - he's the Italian ruler - extends his hospitality." Aiden reaches over and runs his finger along the line of her face, grazing her lips. "He is hoping that Aeneas will prove to be the foreigner whom, according to a prophecy, his-"
"His daughter Lavinia is supposed to marry." They look up to see Sark standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame, watching them. "Gee Aiden, can I sit on your lap for story-time too?" He sarcastically questions. And Aiden sighs heavily. "Look, I will leave in a second - I'm only hear to tell you that Simon's mission was a success and they're due to arrive in two hours." Sark smiles. He then shakes his head, leaving the room. He walks down the hall in search of Abs and Allison. The two women left him, and he doesn't know where they went. He can hear Aiden's words start up, not sure exactly what he and Steph are doing. And so he continues on his search, looking in each door. He grins to himself as he hears the noise that always means Allison is close by; An AR-15 assault rifle being taken apart and put back together.
He turns into the sparsely decorated room, finding Allison sitting at a table, doing just as he pictured. Abs lays on the couch on her back, with much room to spare. "So, my lovelies, how are things?" He questions. Neither say a word. He didn't expect them to. Sark sighs, sitting down in one of the chairs. Abs continues to lay with her eyes shut, and a part of him wants to walk over and ambush her body with his. He knows that would only insight an angry physical brawl between the two of them, resulting in passionate lovemaking. She can be very sweet and kind with him, especially in bed. An angry fire burns from with in her and she exhibits it in many ways - but when she's in bed with Sark, she's kind. And so is he. They manage to leave everything else out, and make their time together, in bed, about just that.
"Well we have two hours until Simon and Cole arrive with Agent Bristow." Sark states. Allison looks up at him nodding. Abs continues to not move or speak. He wonders if she's even breathing. He notices as she moves, stretching her arms above her head, allowing her stomach to show slightly. And the wait begins. The wait for the captured to arrive, the wait for their plan to begin to really take action and shape.
Jack looks up as Weiss walks past him in the direction of the back of the private jet. On a regular trip, through civilian airlines, the trip would take well over 15 hours. However, it is only going to take he and Weiss, through cutting out all stop over time and using a faster plane, about 7 and a half hours. Actually cutting the travel time in half. He slowly pulls the cell phone from his pocket, preparing to make a phone call to Dixon. He doesn't want to make this phone call, but the fact is that his daughter is missing and they have to begin to discuss options for her safe return. Jack dials the number, waiting for the man he respects as much as he does, to answer. He takes a deep breath the second he hears that the line has been connected, listening to Dixon's hello. "It's Jack." He states.
"Jack, hi." Dixon's voice is kind of soft and compassionate. Jack doesn't like it. "How are you holding up?" He questions, like he probably would question Sydney had Jack been the one kidnapped. And Jack wishes it had been that way.
He sifts through the papers on the table before him - all of the CIA's private jets are equip with such features. "Listen, Marcus," Jack is using the man's first name to make sure he get his meaning across the way he wants. "We can skip the part where we discuss my feelings on this matter, because I'm sure you know my feelings on it - considering how you felt when the Covenant kidnapped your children." Jack references a very recent event, which still holds a sting in Dixon's heart. "We need to discuss the solution to this situation." Jack states.
"I agree." Dixon responds, remembering the pain and anger cocktail he felt when he received the call, informing him of his children's capture. "We have an analyst here, who has actually researched the men Walker requested be released." Dixon explains. And Jack sits for a moment, thinking.
"Who is this analyst?" He asks. Dixon hesitates for a moment, confused as to why the man wants to know that bit of information.
"Well," Dixon states, taking a few seconds to think and prepare his words. "She is kind of young - and has worked here for about a year. Her name leaves me at the moment." Dixon responds. "She works with Will Tippin."
Jack then stops sorting through the papers, sighing. The events of the day are finally starting to get to him and he's beginning to feel somewhat exhausted. "Alright well, what do you suppose we do?" He questions.
"I'm planning a meeting with you and Weiss, via your cell phones sometime this evening to begin getting things started before you two arrive here." The two then exchange their good-byes, hanging the phones up. Jack rubs his eyes, taking a deep breath, before resting into the back of the seat. He closes his eyes, preparing to allow himself to rest.
Sydney's arms ache. She's been sitting with her hands bound behind her back for almost an hour now, and the pain is far worse than she thought it would be. Not to mention, the gaping wound on her left arm that has been causing her to shake. She closes her eyes, trying to stay conscious. But the pain she's feeling in her shoulders is more than she can bare. She noticed the screwdriver in her pocket about forty-five minutes ago. And since then she's been desperately trying to find a way to allow herself to be unbound. Her eyes stay closed for longer than any of the other times, now. She doesn't want to fall asleep, succumb to the darkness, but she can't fight it, especially considering the pain she's feeling. She stopped hearing the voices about fifteen minutes ago, as her brain began to focus solely on the pain.
Suddenly, her eyes shoot open as the SUV rolls to a halt. She tries to look out the window, but can't seem to tell where they are. She watches as Simon slips out of the door, and she gets a glimpse of the location as the door shuts. Basically they're somewhere in the German country side, and she puts two and two together, figuring that the man has to relieve himself. She sighs, watching the way Cole turns in his seat and looks at her. "Hey," She doesn't know where she found her voice. She sighs. "Come here." Mckenas takes a long drag on his cigarette, before throwing it out the window. He then slips from the front seat, to the back where she's been sitting.
"Yes, pig tails?" He questions. And Sydney doesn't know why she's doing it, but she leans in and kisses the man, letting her lips linger on his for just long enough. He looks down at her, shocked. She grins, biting her lower lip, letting her dimples define themselves to her. "So, that was unexpected. Entirely for your own advantage, I'm sure." Mckenas Cole is not a stupid man. In fact he's probably one of the smartest men she's ever met in her life. He continues to watch her, waiting for her to speak.
She sighs. "Yes. It is for my advantage." She reluctantly states. Cole raises his eyebrows at her, waiting for more information to leave her mouth. "Listen, my arms hurt, so bad..." She trails. He watches the way she continues to pout at him. And her eyes meet with his, trying to plea with whatever bit of conscience he might still have. But she's always thought he didn't have one. Mckenas Cole is a sociopath. "Please?" She questions.
Cole sighs, before reluctantly moving the woman so she's facing her door - which has been equip with a child lock so she can't get out. "Only because you kissed me." He states, as he begins to untie the binding on her hands. Her plan is to retrieve the screwdriver from her father's tux pocket and stab Cole, hoping like hell that the driver doesn't have a gun and exit through Walker's door. Before her arms are untied, Simon Walker's door opens.
"What the hell are you doing?" He questions Cole, who finishes freeing Sydney's arms. Maybe she can kick Cole, stab Walker and make a run for it. However, once she's free, she's still in the middle of the fucking snow covered countryside. Sydney turns, looking at Simon. She hates that a part of her still burns for him.
Cole then quickly slips back into the front, telling Simon that he's letting Sydney's arms free because they were hurting her. Simon rolls his eyes, slipping into the seat next to Sydney now. Her mind races as the car starts again, clearly having missed her opportunity. Using the screwdriver to stab anyone now would clearly be out of vengeance - which she wouldn't mind doing. But who to stab? The only logical answer would be to stab the neck of the driver, whom has yet to speak, and try her chances with what Cole and Walker do in return.
Sydney sits with her hands folded on her lap, for a few minutes as the SUV speeds down the road. She begins to get the feeling back in her arms, even though the pain in her left one is constant. She reaches into the left side inner pocket of the black tux jacket with her right hand excruciatingly slow. And it takes about five minutes, but she gets the screwdriver completely slipped up into her right sleeve, before she returns her arm to her side. The handle of the tool is closest to her hand, while the sharp metal point resides somewhere around the inside of her elbow. Sydney slowly slips her arm up in the sleeve as well, gripping the handle of the seven-inch Phillips screwdriver tightly.