Title: The Double Cross

Author: Samantha Greene

Summary: S/S. "Sequel to Shades of Gray."

A/N: As this is the sequel to Shades of Gray, you probably need to read that one or this story won't make sense. "Shades of Gray" was sort of an alternate future that takes place before Counteragent, but this does contain bits of future shows, so to be safe, spoilers for everything past Counteragent.

And a big thank you to everyone who supported "Shades of Gray." Hope you enjoy the sequel!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of Alias. All property of the brilliant JJ Abrams, ABC, Bad Robot, etc.

Chapter 4

Jack's POV

I'd forgotten how fast Irina could drive when she needed to get somewhere in a hurry. Once, when Sydney was still a toddler unsteady on her feet, she'd stumbled and careened headfirst into the corner of our coffee table. The cut to her head had been superficial, but it was bleeding heavily, so Irina and I had rushed to the hospital. For once, Irina didn't bother to cover her espionage-enhanced skills, and we made it to the hospital far more quickly than legal driving allowed. As we now drive toward the ditch where the empty van was found, I see the same fear and desperation etched on her face.

"Sydney will be okay," I tell her, frustrated with my inability to adequately comfort either one of us. "She can take care of herself."

"So can Sark," Irina replies, strain making her voice raw. "But the point is that neither one of them should have to. They didn't make the decisions that led them into this life. We did."

She's right, and I know it. A grim silence hovers in the air as we complete the rest of the ride to the scene. As we approach, I can see the van has already been pulled from the ditch and is back on the embankment. Although the windows are spider webbed with cracks, none of the glass has actually broken out. Irina notices the same thing.

"They used the doors to get out," she says.

I nod in agreement. "Unless they were taken out by someone else."

"Either way, they're still alive. We have to find them."

Irina bends down to squint at a glint of gold. When she picks it up, I recognize it as the gold starburst necklace Sydney occasionally wears.

Just then, one of the nearby police car radios crackles with a staticy broadcast. I breathe a deep sigh of relief as I hear the news - Sydney and Sark have turned up a quarter of a mile west along the irrigation canal, wet but otherwise fine. Apparently they escaped from the van but felt it was too dangerous to surface so close to where Sloane and his agents were. After getting directions to the sight, Irina and I jump back in the car but this time proceeding in a more legal manner. I'm still not certain of the details of how Sloane managed to escape or why Sydney and Sark showed up so far away, but none of that matters right now. My daughter is safe.

Sydney's POV

As I come awake somewhat groggily, the first sound to filter into my consciousness that of soft snoring next to me. I gingerly roll over on the cold cement floor and open my eyes to see Sark asleep and snoring. Despite whatever desperate circumstances we're in, I can't help a soft laugh at the sight of Sark snoring soundly under such conditions. This sound wakes Sark, and he reflexively thrusts his hands under his head as if searching for something. Disappointed, he opens his eyes to find me watching him with amusement.

"There isn't a gun under your pillow," I grin. "In fact, there isn't even a pillow under your head."

"A man can dream," he mutters sleepily.

"He can snore, too," I tease.

Sark throws me a mock-angry look. "You would snore, too, if your lungs were full of disgusting agricultural irrigation water. That water isn't fit for humans to drink."

I smile to myself at the thought of Sark exchanging his San Pellegrino for irrigation water. Then another thought hits my somewhat murky brain.

"You were awake after the crash? What happened?"

"I don't know much," Sark admits. "You must have hit your head, you were unconscious. I got both our seat belts undone, and was about to open the door when it was opened from the outside. Water came rushing in at once and I only got one long look before I got tranqued, but I could recognize those faces in an instant. Sydney, it was us!"

"So we rescued ourselves from a watery van and then tranqued ourselves? Probably we locked ourselves in this room, too. I don't think I'm the only one who hit my head in that accident."

Sark frowned in irritation.

"I'm telling you, Sydney, whoever pulled us from that van looked exactly like us! They were even dressed the same. Look, I know Sloane's been trying to get something called Project Helix working for a long time. It takes a human being and can genetically turn them into another human. It's sort of like cloning except you start with someone who's already an adult. Maybe Sloane has finally succeeded."

"That doesn't make sense," I insist. "If Sloane was going to make copies of us, I'm pretty sure he couldn't just use a blood sample. He'd need our entire body present. And I don't recall being kidnapped recently to be cloned. And if we were cloned, why would Sloane bother to keep the originals? And why would he clone us, anyway? My father has much higher clearance than we do. In fact, there are a lot of people that do. Why hasn't Sloane just cloned Devlin, if it were that easy?"

"It makes perfect sense," Sark argued. "Clones don't get the person's brain, just their physical likeness. All Sloane needs for that is a blood sample, which we all give for our yearly physicals. And since the clones don't know what the person they're being cloned from knows, they can't use anyone with too high of clearance. How would Devlin or your father be able to explain it if they suddenly couldn't remember any of their security codes or passwords? We, on the other hand..."

I grimace as I realize the point Sark is making.

"You don't have any CIA codes, because they haven't given you access to anything yet. And I gave up all my clearance when I 'quit' a year ago, so I wouldn't have any codes to forget either."

Sark raises his eyebrows in agreement.

"For the sake of argument, let's say they did clone us. If we got replaced with clones of us, we can rule out the idea of a rescue. They won't be looking for us because they don't think we're missing."

All the implications of what this means sink in.

"So we're stuck here until someone we know notices our clones are acting strangely out of character. And in the meantime Sloane has two highly placed moles giving him direct information on plans to catch him and take down the Alliance. He'll be permanently a step ahead of the CIA!"

Meanwhile, I notice Sark eyeing me warily.

"What?" I ask, then realize what he's thinking. "I'm still me, Sark. If there really is a clone, she's out there pretending to be me. Why would Sloane waste time having a clone hang out with you in a cell?"

"Maybe he's trying to find out what I know. Maybe there was more than one clone. How do I know you're Sydney?" he demands.

I sigh before launching into an explanation.

"Your name is Andrew. You have the total inability to get started in the morning without at least two cups of very strong coffee. When you work late, you always turn your TV on for background noise, and all I've ever heard is BBC world news or cooking shows. I've seen you pay off three different highway patrolmen so you could speed whenever you wanted. I know you speak at least German, Italian, Russian, Japanese, Cantonese, French, Spanish, and Farsi. Oh, and after I brought my new Pagliacci cd to the office, you kept replaying it for three days straight. I'm beginning to regret buying that cd."

Sark smiles, slightly embarrassed at my description of him.

"I suppose you are Sydney, after all."

"I know I'm Sydney, but you still haven't proven you're Sark."

"If I were a clone, why would I have told you about Project Helix at all?" he grins.

"To confuse me," I insist, almost laughing. I'm sure this is Sark, but forcing him to prove it appeals to my sense of humor. Sark just shakes his head indulgently.

"You're as addicted to caffeine as I am. In fact, you generally have a stash of chocolate covered espresso beans in your purse. Every time I make a purchase order, you're buying more wigs and more clothes for more disguises, none of which you ever use twice. You and your mother both have the habit of tucking a strand of hair behind your ear when you're lost in thought. You're always stashing snacks around the office that you think I don't notice, like the pint of Chunky Monkey in the back of the freezer and the Red Vines hidden behind the box of protein bars. And as far as replaying cds, I'm not the one who played only Norah Jones for an entire week."

By now I am laughing at his description.

"Okay, okay, enough. We're us."

Sark is smiling one of his trademark smug smiles that I see only when he wins an argument. After a moment though, his look darkens.

"So the real question is, what are our clones doing right now?"

To be continued...