It's been a while since I've read a story that I really liked, so I decided to write my own. I actually turned it in to my english class as a short story because it was the only thing I had written by the time it was due. I got an A. This is my first Alias fiction. I hope everyone likes it.

Vaughn woke up to the ring of his CIA-issued cell phone. Looking at the clock, he saw that it was 3:47 a.m. Huh, I can't even escape from Rambaldi in my own home. Of course, that thought led to the inevitable "Sydney" thought process. Oh my God, that must be her! The last traces of sleep disappeared.

He grabbed the phone just as it started to ring a second time.
"Hello?"
"Joey's Pizza?" Vaughn was becoming an expert at picking up her emotions from her voice. He heard hesitancy, desperation, and anguish. She also sounded fully awake. Thank God she called me.
"Wrong number," He automatically replied. He jumped out of bed, grabbing a pair of jeans, dislodging Donovan from his bed of dirty laundry. He threw them on, along with a plain white t-shirt. He put on his shoes on the run, grabbed his keys and ran out the door.

He arrived at the warehouse in record time, braking quite a few laws on the way. Her car was already there. He also knew for a fact that it took her almost 50 longer to get there. He knew, he'd tried it. This led to the conclusion that she must have been there when she called him. That worried him. She must really have a crisis. He walked in, careful to walk normally; he didn't want to startle her. If her nerves were as frayed as he thought they were, her battle instincts would take over at the sound of unfamiliar footsteps and he would either find himself in a very uncomfortable position or dead. As he approached the cage, he saw her on the plastic chair, elbows on knees, head down, her hands in her hair. She was gripping it so fiercely, he wondered how much she had already pulled out.

So he was right about the footstep theory. If she had heard anything that shouldn't have been there, she would have been up and in a fighting stance. Unless her nerves were so far gone that she was using every ounce of her strength to keep from breaking down. It certainly looked that way.

She looked up at the sound of the cage door sliding open. When she saw him, she stood up and, giving up the fight against hysteria, flung herself into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder. If the Line hasn't been crossed yet, it certainly has been now, he thought.

"Syd, baby, what's wrong?" He figured that if the Line had already been crossed, it didn't matter how far past it you traveled. He didn't know whether or not she caught it, though. Probably, even at her worst, Sydney doesn't miss anything.

Sobs racked through her body as she took deep, shuddering breaths, attempting to calm herself down. He walked her over to the chair and reluctantly relinquished her to the arms of the chair. He put his hands on her knees though. If she feels the way that i think she feels about me, then maybe the physical contact will help. He knew that it was only an escuse to touch her, but it was also true.

Evidently it did help (or so he told himself) because she stopped sobbing and looked at him.

"I'm scared," It was barely a whisper.

"Of what?" He coaxed. A thousand different possibilities sprang to mind, but what she said was not one of them.

"Of turning into my mother." He coldly shoved all of his emotions out the door when he heard that word. He didn't even allow himself the anger that always came when She was mentioned. Sydney needed him right now; that was the most important thing. He should have known that it would bother her though. He could probably even name all of her reasons that she would use to support her "theory."

"Why are you afraid of that?" He decided to let her explain instead of instantly denying that any such thing was possible. He's known her long enough to know that she wouldn't believe him until he countered all of her arguments.

"I've killed people."

"Self defense," He'd had the answer ready before she spoke.

"I've stolen things."

"To keep them out of dangerous hands." She started to interrupt, but he knew her argument and had his counter ready. "And when you were stealing for SD-6, you didn't know that you were working for the bad guys. Nor," he continued before she could interrupt again, "would you have knowingly worked for them in the first place if you knew who they were." He was ready for the next one: Manipulation.

"I manipulate people. I lie to them, I use them." If this wasn't such a serious situation, he would have found it almost funny that he knew her so well. As it was, he was just happy that he had arguments ready right away. If he had sounded hesitant at all, she would have used it to further her own argument.

"You do what you have to serve your country. Here's one you can't argue with: The fact that you are even worried about this should be proof enough to show that you aren't and never will be your mother! A man who worries that he's insane is sane. The man who thinks he's getting saner is insane. It's just the way our messed up minds work."

She exhaled deeply, relieved that all of her arguments had been countered. Her quick recovery boded well for her well-being. It meant that she hadn't fully convinced herself that she WAS becoming her mother; she was just worried that she MIGHT be becoming her mother. Once again, Vaughn thanked all the deities he knew of for her calling him before it got too late. She started crying again, but Vaughn sensed that they were happy tears. She started laughing, and if it was slightly hysterical laughter, well, he couldn't blame her. He was still consciously aware that his hands were on her knees. He didn't want to be obvious about removing them. He was beginning to wonder if he had left them on too long. She hadn't acknowledged anything yet. Just as that thought finished, she stopped laughing. She put her hands on top of his and looked deeply into his eyes.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," he replied. "Thank you for calling me. I don't want to think about what might have happened if you hadn't." As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he'd made a mistake. Sydney hated it if anyone doubted her ability to take care of herself. But she must have been beside herself with fear because she replied,

"Neither do I."

He didn't remember when it happened but he realized that their faces were quite close together. He silently yelled at himself as his hand moved independently up to her cheek. He rubbed his thumb along her cheek. She closed her eyes, reveling in he sensation. He silently said good bye to the Line as it disappeared from his vision, never to be seen again.

Wow! That was a lot shorter than I thought it was. I guess yougain the ability to write longer stories as you gain experience.
I was going to add more, but I couldn't think of anything else after that point. Maybe it's a good ending by itself. I don't know. I'm new at writing fiction.

Please give me some feedback!