Phantasmagoria
Chapter 1
A/n: Yes, new fic! I'm very excited about it. But I should warn you: you'll probably be confused. It will all make sense eventually, though, so don't let the uncertainty stop you from reading or reviewing.
Summary: This is hard to summarize without giving it away. Well, it's two stories crammed in to one told by the present, memories, and dreams. It's also an alternative "Phase One."
Disclaimer: JJ Abrams own Alias, which includes Vaughn, but once I find out how to clone him… Mwahaha.
A fear settled over Scarlett Avery as she awoke upon a chilling cement floor. She squinted into the darkness of the room, the fear causing the walls to close in on her like a claustrophobic nightmare. Her head throbbed; she groaned as she lifted it off the hard wall, rotating her neck to stretch the sore muscles. Slowly her consciousness fluttered back, and she restored enough cognizance to ask herself: where am I?
Her eyes adapted to the sinister obscurity of the room and absorbed her surroundings: pink stone walls, dripping with condensation, and obviously dimly lit. It seemed only a single bulb of low wattage swung above her head. Scarlett spied perhaps a chair on the far side of the chamber. The darkness made it difficult to know for certain. Or maybe it was another person.
"Hello?" she scratched out, evoking a coughing fit. "Is someone there?" Her voice sounded strong this time. Though no answer.
She attempted to readjust her tender body against the wall, promptly recognizing chains binding her wrists to the damp, pink barrier. Swinging them idly, she felt a stinging discomfort as the cuffs lacerated her flesh. They fell limply beside her ears, and her eyes focused on her skinny legs; her dirty, aching legs. The extremities appeared particularly small against the large bulge of her stomach.
Suddenly her wrists battled the chains as she yearned to rub her stomach, to tell her baby everything was all right. Her motherly instinct died down, and her struggle soon ended. She fell back against the wall in exasperation, tears welling in her eyes.
Studying her stomach further, memories unfurled in her mind. But where was she, and how did she get there? The last thing she remembered… Putting away the laundry. And her husband, he had been away. Scarlett wracked her brain for the memories. She remembered walking downstairs in eerie silence and seeing her worst nightmare standing in her living room.
Her fists clenched beside her face, the pain a mere distraction now. He was responsible for this, she knew without a doubt. She had ruined him, reduced him to nothing, desolated his corrupt reign as master of the underworld. And he wanted revenge.
As the baby kicked her an extreme sense of relief washed over her, but also, she never felt more scared. He would do anything to obtain his satisfaction. Anything. Her baby still retained life, two months, and she would become a mother; her husband a father. And this man would thwart that, at all costs.
She heard a loud crash as an unnoticed door swung open. A blinding light from the hallway captivated her sight, and she squinted into its brightness. Soon a single figure blocked the light's path. Leaving the door open, he stepped forward into the room. He appeared patient, perhaps cautious to the untrained eye, but truly, he was simply prepared.
Scarlett's fists clenched again as the light cast upon his face. Her wrists struggled against the chains and she stared at him with malice.
"Sydney Bristow." The name resounded in her head like a faded memory; how long had she been called Scarlett Avery? "I've been waiting for this for far too long."
"What are you going to do, torture me?" She had seen worse. She could survive whatever he threw at her, the bastard. She was Sydney Bristow, after all.
Sloane laughed in response. "You desecrated me. You left me as prey for the lions. But even the impoverished survive…" His lips twisted into a corrupted smile. "Do I want to torture you, Sydney Bristow? No. I want worse. I want you to suffer the most excruciating anguish of your life, I want to see you at the bottom of the food chain. I want your soul annihilated."
She breathed heavily for a moment, watching his malevolent self pace in and out of the stream of light. She watched his eyes focus on something: her stomach. "No!" she protested immediately. "No! Leave my child alone! Don't you dare hurt my baby!"
"If you insist…" He receded into the darkness, the evil glare in his eyes highly detectable despite the lack of luminosity. She peered back into the brightness of the doorway as two guards dragged a man between them.
She recognized him instantly, and screamed, "Michael!"
The lights in the room flashed on, forcing her to close her eyes yet again. She pried them open anyway, the stinging in her pupils causing tears to fall. When finally focused, she observed the unknown object in the room was indeed a chair. The guards shoved him into it, and he sank pitifully. She noticed cuts and bruises covering his face and she bit her tongue, wanting desperately to scream. She made herself look away, only to discover wires, cords, devices of torment along with the chair. She screamed anyway.
And Sloane's plan became utterly clear to her. He never had any intentions of killing the baby, he knows that won't destroy her. But watching her husband die before her eyes would be worse than death.
"No, no," was all she could whisper as she jerked against the chains, blood trickling down her arms.
She heard the electricity building up; she stared directly into her husband's eyes, the only undamaged feature on his face. She watched as he stared hard at her stomach, his baby, before he met her gaze. He knew he would die. "I love you, Miss Scarlett," he told her, tears streaming down her face.
Someone could still save them, someone must. "No, Michael…" she cried, not wanting to believe this was the end.
Meanwhile Sloane's fingers gripped the rubber handle of a lever, his eyes twinkling with sadistic delight. He had waited three years for this, three long, tortuous years. In a swift movement she pulled down on the level, and electricity seared through the man's body.
She watched the first shock in horror; his eyes closed in agony, he screamed. His jaw quivered as Sloane laughed on, and she knew there was no one to rescue them. "I love you, Vaughn."
"I… I love you… Syd–"
She screamed as they delivered the final blow, writhing on the floor as he jolted in the chair. And suddenly, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he slumped over.
"No!" she screamed, fighting harder against the chains. "No!" She gaped through tears at his twitching foot. Twice… Three times… Once… No more. She leaned over and vomited, glaring back at Sloane with hatred as bile dripped down her chin. "You son of a bitch," she hissed at him. Vaughn's looming corpse was too much for her. She closed her eyes and screamed, "You son of a bitch!"
She opens her eyes and she is panting in her bed. Alone. Her right hand immediately finds her stomach, and she glances at his side of the bed: empty. Just her, and the baby, who squirms restlessly inside her mother's womb.
Sydney can't catch her breath, nor can she calm down. Something in the air is not right. She remains seated in her bed with her hand protectively resting on her stomach, too scared to move. But somehow the silence around her is discomforting.
The sudden creak of a floorboard startles her and her eyes dart to its origin. She stares curiously at the bathroom door, which is partially closed. She hears, "Sydney, are you all right?" and watches him lean against the frame, pushing the door open all the way.
Dumbstruck, she gapes at him in his boxers and white t-shirt. "It's not safe to call me that," she whispers sharply. She notices she is no longer panting. "What are you doing?" Her fear returns. He knows the danger, why is he risking it?
"No, it's safe now. Sloane can't bother you anymore, remember?" He steps towards her, and she yearns for his touch. She waits impatiently for him to edge onto the bed and stroke her face, followed by a gentle kiss. She finds his hand joining hers atop her rounded belly. He smiles. "Don't forget, Jack's coming today to help you move back to Los Angeles."
She nods. Los Angeles, well, it has been a long time since she has been there. In fact, she recalls her last day there clearly.
Never had Sydney experienced such a high. Little could possibly compare to her feelings that day. Not one person from her past, not one drug, not even an Olympic gold medal came close to giving her this euphoria. A smile crept onto her face just thinking about the events of last night.
Aside from her euphoria, she felt truly free: free from lies, free from SD-6, free from Sloane, free from protocol… An image of Vaughn popped into her mind and her smile grew rapidly. If people had glanced over to her as she drove, they would have seen and prominent glow about her.
Last night, the CIA received intel that allowed them to take down the Alliance. Every cell was eliminated, every agent in captivity in facilities worldwide waiting to be questioned. They hadn't managed to locate Sloane, but his entire life's work was sabotaged. Sydney felt that was good enough.
She remembered standing in the rubble, inspecting the damage, taking it all in. SD-6 was truly gone, and she could hardly believe it. The floor in which she had worked for so many years was barely recognizable. Her desk, broken in wooden chunks, lay scrambled amongst bits of what she assumed had once been her computer. Wires hung from the ceiling, showering cascades of sparks down to the floor.
Then she spotted something that caught her breath. Michael Vaughn's eyes had locked with hers across the room. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, she could only stare. Her legs took steps forward, yet she felt a floating sensation. Her body tingled as he walked toward her; as he held her body to his; as he kissed her passionately amid a disaster zone. Weiss tried to interrupt once, but they ignored him. She had a matter of much greater importance on her hands at the moment. She rubbed her hands through his hair as he planted more soft kisses on her lips. She quickly caught her breath and grew hungry for more.
She had no idea how long they stood there kissing, but it was the main reason for her current state of euphoria. She was meeting him later that night. They could go on a real date, and not worry about pesky spies attacking them during a romantic meal.
She pulled into a gas station next to a pump and proceeded to fill her near empty tank. As she waited outside a cool, yet refreshing breeze whisked across her skin and she smiled again into the sun. A dark sedan with tinted windows pulled in behind her, but she was too preoccupied by the thought of Vaughn to think anything of it.
After the tank had filled, she walked towards the building to pay. Glancing into the glass door, she saw the reflection of the black sedan. She saw a door opening and foot step out before she opened and the door and entered. A teenager worked behind the counter at this time. He was slow, forcing Sydney to wait impatiently behind two people for longer than she had intended.
Sydney focused on a Pepsi display to her left, watching the reflection carefully as the man crossed the threshold. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a thick chest, and looked incredibly out of place in a gas station, especially when compared to the other customers. He wore a suit and dark sunglasses; particularly formal.
Her eyes widened slightly as the reflection showed him reaching into his pocket, and she dove into the next aisle just as he pulled out a gun. She luckily dodged the bullet, which instead exploded into the Pepsi display. Soda fizzed down broken shards of glass as Sydney crawled to the end of the aisle, stopping next to a rack of potato chips. She hurried to retrieve the small hand gun from her purse.
Looking above, she noticed a convex mirror resting in the corner. The man's feet crunched over broken glass and crept forth down the aisle she had darted into. She saw the young cashier trembling behind the register, the customers standing in fear with their hands raised up.
Sydney rolled on the hard floor to the next aisle where she began to think. Who was this man, and why was he after her? She needed an escape plan. Somehow she would have to get to her car, but first she needed to leave the building somehow. She could deal with this guy, he would be the least of her worries. Once she got outside, there would be others in the dark sedan; the man had exited from the rear passenger seat. There was at least one other, his driver. Possibly more.
The man then noticed the mirror, and he locked eyes with Sydney. A small smile curled on his lips as he thought he had her trapped in. She was on the floor. Either direction he went, forward or back, he could be quicker. Suddenly Sydney raised her gun towards the mirror, and his smile faded in confusion. She began to shoot, watching the bullets and glass ricochet off the mirror in every which direction, causing the man to plummet to the ground and take cover. Sydney used her feet to scoot backwards on her butt, continuing to shoot towards the mirror. Finally she had a clear run towards the door and she pushed up as hard as she could, racing to the door.
The wind took her by surprise, yet she kept her cool and shot the tires of the dark sedan. Still on the run and shooting, she made it to her car and turned her key in the ignition as quickly as he could, praying it wouldn't stall. Much to her delight it did not, and she whipped it into drive and slammed on the gas. She sped through the streets, nervously checking her mirrors. There were other cars following her now. She could see them increasing their speed behind her; she could see their eyes narrowing at her from affront.
Damn it, she thought this was all over.
"Sydney?"
"Hmm?" Sydney. It feels good to hear him speak her name again.
"I have to stay behind a few days, to take care of the house and some things at the bookshop."
"Days?" she asks. That seems long. The longest she has been away from him is hours. Can she survive days? She pulls his hand into the crook of her neck in thought. "Do you have to?"
"Yes," he answers sadly, finding his way to embrace her. "And I have to leave soon. You'll have left with Jack by the time I get home."
She leans her head against his shoulder, a slight stretch over her protruding stomach. "Days?" she asks again, not wanting it to be true. She feels his nod and sighs.
Her fingers tangle in his hair and he pulls away slightly. "You should take a shower and eat something, I'll be there when you need me." He gives her a smile, and she cannot help but lean in and kiss him. She pulls away abruptly when she feels a kick from within, and her hand falls to the precise spot on her stomach. Vaughn reaches for the spot, feeling the tap, tap, tap in awe.
After a moment together in silence, Vaughn helps her out of bed and guides her to the shower. He turns on the hot water as she undresses. Before she slips into the warm wetness, she tilts her head up for a last kiss. "But who's going to help me put my socks on?" she asks with a smirk, beaming when he responds with a laugh.
Then he sighs. "I need to leave." He kisses her temple and waits until she is securely in the shower, where she is drowned by an energizing warmth. She can still feel his fingers lingering over her skin as she watches his shadow disappear from the bathroom. And once again, she is alone.
A/n: I hope you understand the format of how this is written. If it's at all confusing, it should become clearer as the chapters progress. So, are you still interested? Please review!