Disclaimer: I don't own Alias or the line I took from the movie "Galaxy Quest" that's in here. Can you spot it?
Ch. 7 "Jack Gets Inebriated"
Although parents claim to be perfect, no one ever believes them. And that night Jack wasn't helping prove that claim. It had been another particularly long day and Sloane, "the incompetent, idiotic imbecile" as Jack liked to refer to him when he was drunk and also when he was sober, had again intervened in his private life. Sloane felt that Jack had spent too much time away and that he should be home with Sydney. But just because he would be home didn't mean the work would lessen. It only meant that instead of busting heads, defusing bombs, and trying not to come home in a wooden box, he would be doing paper work, over seeing employees at the office, and the ever fun interrogations. Compared to that, getting shot sounded like fun.
The bar owner knew "Bottomless Bristow" all too well. Mickey's had been the bar he had frequented after his wife died and pretty much ever since then. The owner also knew that Jack was the one drunk you did not throw out of your bar or should I say couldn't throw out. He had tried once and let's just say black does not go well with his wardrobe. Jack had of course apologized the next day and nothing like that had happened since. One of the reasons was because after awhile the drinks became more water and less scotch. Once it came to the point where Jack sat and drank a glass of water and never knew the difference. If that doesn't tell you how gone someone is I don't know what does. Every time he came in the owner was sure he would have to end up calling the hospital because of alcohol poisoning. But what good CIA agent can't take over the legal limit?
Sydney was petrified. No more like petrified wood. Things didn't scare her easily. Well, aside from her father and the fear of water, she was totally calm. Until now. This had been her first mission without Dixon. He had broken his arm during a basketball game and was out of commission for awhile. So she had went to England alone. No problem. Marshall had given her the down low on the gadgets and she had read the specifications on the mission, her cover, the place, the people, so she had been fully prepared for anything, or so she had thought.
The trip had started of well enough. They had been within 20 or so minutes of their destination when things first started going wrong. She had been doing her homework when little bleeping noises from the front of the plane had distracted her. Being an agent and naturally curious, she had gone up to the pilot's control room. She found the two pilot's in hysterics. On one of the screens there was a red thingy moving toward the green thingy and she was pretty sure they were the green thingy. She was even more sure that the red thingy wasn't a good thingy.
After that everything happened so fast. The plane was hit by the red thingy which turned out to be a baby missile. One of the pilots was taken out by the hit and the other one seriously injured and trying desperately to gain control of the plain. Syd rushed back and was trying to collect her wits when she heard more beeping. She rushed back to the control room and saw a familiar red light headed towards them. The co-pilot, still trying in vain to get the plane under control, yelled at her to jump. At first she thought he was crazy. Then she realized what he meant. She found the parachute and waited for him to follow. When he yelled at her to go ahead she hesitated for a moment. But he was her superior and she had to follow his orders. She opened the door, took a deep breath and hoped her Algebra homework made it.
As Sydney descended downward she grew more and more frightened at what she was descending towards. As a child, up to the age of six that is, she had loved water. Then her mom had died and she hadn't gone near it voluntarily since. When Francie had celebrated her seventh birthday at a water park Syd had just stared at the water for awhile until faking a stomach ache and going home. When her dad had picked her up she had given him the same excuse, but she felt that he knew her true reasons. It was kind of obvious considering she had dropped out of swimming lessons the same year of the accident and had avoided all possible contact with water, short of showering and drinking it. When she had gone into the CIA she had been required to take tests and she had gotten them over with as quickly as possible. Now that she was out in the water though, all training vanished and she started to do the only thing she could think of....scream. Her screaming was silenced by an explosion above her. The plane had detonated. Sydney wanted to turn away from the awful sight, but was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame, by some weird and horrible fascination. She had seen buildings blow up, even at her low status she had seen a few people die, but she had never been that close to death before. Capture, maybe but not death. She thought of the two men who must have certainly died and how if she hadn't jumped, that she would have shared their awful fate.
Speaking of awful things, don't drunk people really look disgusting. I mean they're all smelly and grody and their eyes are blood shot. Well, this was the image that greeted Irina as she stood over the form of her intoxicated husband. This was the first real glimpse she had seen of him in eight years, excluding the fleeting one of him stomping past her to Sloane's office and seeing him at the party, and let me tell ya folks, it wasn't pretty.
She had been careful. She had been exceedingly careful. She had avoided all possible areas where she might run into him, but sooner or later it was bound to happen. Of course him lying passed out on the floor was more favorable than him shoving a gun in her face, but it still wasn't the meeting she had imagined. But it was a whole hell of a lot safer.
She had been walking down the street trying to find a decent pub to drowned her sorrows in. And from the looks of it, apparently so had Jack. The only difference is that he had already found it and from the smell of it, drank it dry.
Irina looked around. The place was deserted, except for the bartender, and in her experiences she didn't trust that kind one bit. She couldn't leave him there, but she couldn't exactly take him home with her. She thought about calling the CIA, but that would provoke questions and inquires and all that awful legal stuff. The CIA didn't take too kindly to their operatives being inebriated. Not to mention they'd probably wonder who called it in and more importantly how that person knew how to call. So she was stuck between a rock and a hard place, the hard place being a smelly, smashed spouse. So she searched for his keys and lugged the body to the car. "This isn't the first time I've done this," Irina mused to herself. "But usually I put the body in the trunk."
"Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"Irina grumbled.
Even unconscious Jack was being difficult. Irina had managed to get him in the house, but was having trouble hauling him up the stairs. She was a bit out of shape, even though she carried and washed like 200 lbs of dishes a day.
After a lot of pushing and shoving and swearing and wishing that Jack and she had purchased the one story house instead, she finally made it. She dropped Jack down on the bed and sat down herself in order to breathe. After she had enough oxygen, curiosity began to get the better of her and she started to look around. It wasn't like there was any danger. It was highly unlikely that Jack was in any state to stop her and from what she had figured out at school, Sydney was on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean.
After she took the phone of the hook to insure that there would be no rude awakenings for the slumbering drunk, she started rummaged through her old things, surprised that Jack hadn't burned them all. All pictures containing her had been removed from their old homes atop the dressers, tables, and mantel, but were carefully stored in her top drawer. Even most her clothes were still hanging in the closet, which was even more remarkable considering she had shared the closet with Jack. That meant that every time he would open the closet he would see her stuff hanging by his. If it were her it would be a little unnerving, but it wasn't and for all she knew he could have just kept it there for Sydney or been too lazy to clean it out. But that didn't seem to likely.
She passed the bathroom and went into Syd's room. She smiled as she looked at the walls. They still donned the same cloud wallpaper Syd and she had picked out for Syd's fifth birthday. The same furniture was there, with an exception of a desk, a chair, and a lamp. On her bed a familiar face greeted Irina. It was the bear she had given Sydney the day before the "accident". She picked up the fluffy creature and hugged it while she explored further. Irina's old jewelry box was on the dresser, filled with lots of anniversary and birthday presents from her family. She was about to leave the room when she noticed a small book poking out from under the mattress. Although she respected her daughter's privacy, a look in her daughter's diary would be as close a chance to know her as anything. She couldn't resist the urge and opened it up. She found herself lost in the events of her daughter's life that she had missed and that apparently, so had Jack.
Irina didn't realize how long she had been there until she heard a groan. It was around four in the morning and no doubt the effect of the alcohol was wearing off. She quickly finished reading the last page and scrambled to put everything back as it had been. She tiptoed in to the bedroom where the sleeping, but not for long, individual was. She pulled the covers over him and looked once more into his haggard face before making her exit. But not before searching through his drawer to find the something she had been reminded of, during her reading. She finally found what she had been looking for. She found Jack's heart, or rather a small, quarter-sized, silver, half shaped heart. She tugged at the necklace she always wore. The other half of the piece was hanging on the chain. Jack had given it to her on their wedding. She had put hers on a chain, while Jack had preferred to keep it with his pocket change, so every time he went to pay for something he'd be reminded of how much he loved her. Of course, anyone who knew him now would think she must have married some other Jack Bristow because there was no way that the gruff, strict, man who yells a lot, could have ever been that sickeningly lovey dovey. Irina wondered why he had left the heart in his drawer and not melted it down into a bullet. She was still puzzling over this when she heard another moan from the bed. She quickly put the heart away and closed the door before making a mad dash to the front door. She took one final look and ran out the door.
She got about half way before she realized she still had his keys. Realizing that wouldn't look good, she raced back in the house and stopped. She didn't know where he put his keys. She finally decided to stick them by his bed. She crept upstairs and was about to lay the keys by his bedside when he opened his eyes.....
This is Alias, so I figured I had to have atleast one cliff hanger. Inebriated has to be one of my favorite words. There are just so many fun words for being drunk, smashed is another good one. I want to thank all my loyal reviewers for reviewing again. It's like Christmas everyday!!
To the Surfy, black ops, and BB: Always like to hear things like that.
To Drama Queens Rule: Your wish is my command, you will be getting to see Sark quite soon.
To Scary-Girly: I'm starting to think that all anybody cares about anymore is Vaughn!! Course, I can't blame them....
To morrisseylover: Spyfamily moments coming up in a few chapters, although maybe not the exact members you're thinking about.
To thehoodedsweatshirt and Rach5: Yep, I was referring to Titanic.
