Alternate Infatuation
Sequel to Alternate Existence. We all know that certain people are simply destined to be together. When Syd finally gets out of the life of espionage she was drawn into at sixteen, how will she find her own destiny?
Chapter 2: Unexpected Contact
Disclaimer: Author does not own most of these characters. Said author does not wish to be sued. However, Jeffrey is all mine!
A/N: We're rollin' now! Prepare to be amazed!
A/N: No, Lothair Technologies is not another SD-6 thing! But I promise SD-6 is coming up in a big way!
Arvin Sloane paced pointedly back and forth, a palm-sized clicker in his hand. Marcus Dixon and five other agents circled the table, waiting for Sloane to begin.
"As you all know, we have recently acquired a Rambaldi document known as the Prophecy." He pressed a button, and a grainy ink sketch appeared on the screen. "The analysis department has finished decoding the text of the document, and they believe this woman, Sydney Bristow, is the only woman that possesses somewhere in her mental recesses a program code that will unlock an artifact we've yet to even discover."
Sloane slid six identical manila files across the table.
"Your mission is to apprehend Sydney Bristow and bring her in. I'll question her then."
Dixon flipped open his file to see a more recently taken picture of Bristow.
"Doesn't look like she'd pack much of a punch," he commented.
"She's a computer programmer at Lothair Technologies," Sloane said. Our surveillance team found nothing to indicate that she might be a problem. She should be a vacation for you, Agent Dixon."
Dixon nodded slowly, studying his file.
"We'll bring her in, sir."
Sydney slipped comfortably into her apartment, content with what would soon become just another day. The red light on her answering machine was blinking, and as she dropped her bag and keys on the counter she pressed PLAY. Jeffrey's voice filled the room. It had been too long since she'd seen Jeffrey; it hadn't been since he'd gotten his executive position at that stock company in Chicago.
"Hey baby! I got your number from information, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised that your not home. Never were one to sit still, were you? Well, I hope you're settled in all right. I can't get away during the week, but I want to come see you soon. Call me, okay?"
Sydney smiled at the message. Even with all the high-class tendencies Jeffrey had picked up, he still somehow managed to sound earnest. Jeffrey hated when she told him that. Just like he hated when anyone but her called him Jeffrey. Among his friends, he was Jeff Lexington, successful serious businessman.
But he was still her Jeffrey. Her one constant that had survived from the time she was ten until the present.
Her thoughts wondered to her new job. She loved it; it was so peaceful and calm and normal.
She loved most of all the new openness available to her in her relationships, especially with Jeffrey. Hell, he was it. She had missed for years the openness they'd shared when they were together, but long distance any real exchange of information was too risky.
She loved her new job.
"Nothing will take this away from me," she said aloud.
It was early on a crisp, cool LA morning. Dixon could almost smell the upcoming height of autumn above the musty, closed in smell of the surveillance van his team was crammed into until such a time as Bristow made a move. Then they could move out into the damp, gloomy parking garage next to Bristow's apartment complex.
Dixon saw the woman on the screen even before the tech guy alerted him.
"Target moving the range," the techie said quietly.
"Move!" Dixon said, the first to climb silently from the back of the van.
He and the others moved stealthily between cars until they nearly surrounded Bristow's car. As she moved between her car and the dark blue sedan next to it a couple of agents moved in to complete the circle.
Dixon slipped up behind her, a cloth doused in chloroform in his hand. Before he could hook his arm around Bristow, she threw an elbow back and caught him in the stomach. He grunted at the unexpected contact, and the cloth slipped from his grasp.
Sydney spun to see her attacker, throwing a punch as she did. Dixon anticipated her this time, and he threw up his arm to deflect the shot. Sydney was thrown off balance with the force of her own momentum, and Dixon landed a blow to the back of her neck. Seeing double--or may be triple--now, Sydney swung wildly, but Dixon deflected anything that came within range and finally got in a shot to the side of her head that caused her to droop against the blue sedan.
Her formerly neat hair had come loose in the struggle and Dixon failed to notice the black hair clip fall to the cement floor as he supported her limp weight.
"Get the car," he said needlessly to an agent who'd already picked up Bristow's key ring.
By noon that day, Robert Morris gave in and put in a call to the police. Sydney Bristow had not struck him as a neglectful woman, and he was an accurate judge of character. The police wouldn't do anything this soon, but he wanted to at least call their attention to her absence.
"LAPD," a female voice answered after two rings.
"I'd like to report a possible missing person," Morris said.
"Possible missing person, sir?"
"A missing person, then," he said, keeping his voice calm. Why couldn't the cops at least employ intelligent human beings?
"Your name, sir?"
"Robert Morris."
"The missing person's name?"
"Sydney Bristow."
"Relation to the missing person?"
"I'm her boss."
"Length of time missing?"
Hell, it sounded like this chick was reading verbatim from a questionnaire!
"She didn't report for work this morning."
"Sir, you can't file a missing persons report until the person in question has gone unaccounted for at least 48 hours."
"I know that…"
"Call back when the person…"
"Hold on a minute!" Morris growled. "Can't I file a suspected fowl play report, or some other incident report? This is not like Miss Bristow."
"Sir, when your miss Bristow has been missing for 48 hours, you can call us then," the woman said haughtily. A definite click came through the line.
Furious, Morris slammed the phone down so hard it bounced out of the cradle and he had to hang it up again.
He'd just been hung up on by the friggin' police.
Hehe…we all know the best Alias fics have Sydney kicking ass! It's just not good if she doesn't!
Review please, I update faster when I think people are actually reading my work!