This is the sequel to When Dreams Become Nightmares. You don't have to read WDBN to understand it, although I wish you would read it anyway cause I spent a lot of hours on it : )

Summary of WDBN (But you really should read the real thing!): Syd is working for SD-6, but she thinks it's the CIA. After uncovering the Rambaldi prophecy with Sydney's (or a woman who looks exactly like her) picture, the CIA orders that she be taken into cusody and subjected to a number of tests to determine whether she really is the Chosen One. Vaughn, a CIA agent, is assigned the task of bringing her in, but after meeting her one time, he develops feelings for her, and convinces his boss Kendall to let him get to know Syd and gradually start asking her questions that would reveal whether she really is the woman in the prophecy. When the FBI hears of the prophecy, however, they freak out and order Sydney's immediate assassination. They catch up with her and open fire while she's on a "date" with Vaughn. Syd escapes, but soon thereafter passes out due to loss of blood from a bullet wound. When she wakes up, she discovers that her father and Vaughn found her and are trying to get her to safety. They tell her that the CIA, FBI, and Alliance are all after her. Jack draws up an elaborate extraction plan that allows Syd and Vaughn to go into hiding. He mentions a group called the Covenant that is also looking for Sydney. Syd is reluctant to spend her life looking over her shoulder, but she realizes this is her only option. Fast forward six months. Syd is living with Vaughn in some remote location. They are very happy together - she's forgiven him for his deceit. He proposes and she accepts. Then he goes out for a walk. While he's gone, Sydney is abducted. The end.

This story, the sequel, picks up 4 years after WDBN left off. Enjoy! Review please!

Disclaimer: I don't own Alias or anything related to it. Bla bla bla. The lyrics in this chapter and the title of the story are taken from the Beatles song "Julia" from the White Album.

Chapter 1

A young man dressed in a tuxedo sat, slouching slightly, on a leather couch. He was sipping a glass of wine. His eyes were sad, green. The only sounds in the house were the buzz of a hair drier from the bathroom and a quiet hum coming from the stereo across the room.

Half of what I say is meaningless
But I say it just to reach you, Julia

Julia, Julia, oceanchild, calls me
So I sing a song of love, Julia
Julia, seashell eyes, windy smile, calls me
So I sing a song of love, Julia

Her hair of floating sky is shimmering, glimmering,
In the sun

Julia, Julia, morning moon, touch me
So I sing a song of love, Julia

When I cannot sing my heart
I can only speak my mind, Julia

Julia, sleeping sand, silent cloud, touch me
So I sing a song of love, Julia
Hum hum hum...calls me
So I sing a song of love for Julia, Julia, Julia

The hair drier turned off. Stiletto heels clicked across the tile floor. The man sat up straight and took a deep breath. He turned his head and saw her. It was always the same. The same half-whispered hope rising to the surface every time he heard her coming. Then buried again. Each time, he swore, gone forever.

She was all shimmers and jewels. Julia. Dressed in a strappy evening gown. Silver. Like the band around her slender ring finger. Her hair was blond. Long, flowy, soft. Eyes, chocolate brown. Empty.

"I hate this song," she remarked. Voice emotionless. She walked across the room and flicked the stereo off. "Are you ready?"

The man nodded. He stood up and followed her out of the house.

"Is something the matter, Michael?" she asked when they were inside the car. He could tell from her voice that her concern was just a formality.

"You know I hate it when you turn my music off," he replied, equally detached.

"Stop listening to sappy crap and I won't have to," she said with a dimply smirk.

No, that was Sydney.

Julia tossed her hair back and shrugged. They drove the rest of the way in silence. Julia allowed him to open the door for her when they arrived at the hotel. She put her arm inside of his when they entered the ballroom. Not a moment sooner.

Her touch was warm.

Two Years Earlier

A woman's body washed up on the shores of a Los Angeles bay. A passerby saw her limp, eerily attractive form and called the police. In the meantime he began frantically performing CPR on her. After about thirty seconds, she coughed, spit up some water, and regained consciousness.

She leapt up and tackled the man. She pinned him to the ground and held a knife to his throat. She would have killed him, the man had no doubt, he could see it in her eyes, the cold resolve. But the police pulled up at that moment and pried her off of him.

Several hours later she was identified as Sydney Bristow and taken into CIA custody.

"Please state your name and age for the record."

"Julia Thorne. Twenty-four."

"Does the name Sydney Bristow mean anything to you?"

"No. Should it?"

Her inquisitor shifted in his seat. "What have you been doing for the past two years?"

"Working as an agent for the Covenant."

The man dropped his pen. "Ms. Bri…excuse me, Ms. Thorne, are you aware of the implications of that confession?"

Julia bowed her head. She looked up at the man from the corners of her eyes. She smiled. It was a hollow smile, devoid of any joy. "Do I look like someone who cares?"

Her inquisitor looked her over. Though she had been given a clean, dry set of clothes since her bath in the bay the day before, she was still in pretty bad shape. There was a deep gash across her forehead, one of her eyes was black, and then there was that fresh, almost surgical-looking cut across her stomach…

"Very well," he said at last. "What was the nature of your employment with the Covenant? Tell me every assignment you were given. I want specifics."

Michael Vaughn was pacing furiously back and forth across Jack Bristow's office.

"I don't understand why you won't give me clearance to see her," he spat.

Jack rocked back in his chair and sighed. For the first time Vaughn could remember, he looked old. He looked tired, worn out, jaded. It frightened Vaughn.

"Is it that bad?" he asked quietly.

Jack raised his head and looked at Vaughn. Vaughn could tell from the look in his eyes that it was worse than "that bad."

"Do you think she's telling the truth?" he asked. "She really believes she's this Thorne person?"

"As far as our lie detectors can tell, Agent Vaughn, she's telling the truth. And now that she confessed to working with the Covenant, now that she confessed everything…" his voice trailed off.

"They're going to try for the death penalty, aren't they," Vaughn said. His voice was flat.

"Yes, and they'll get it. The list of murders she committed…it rivals that of her mother." He shook his head.

"We can't let this happen! Even if the worst is true, even if she's been fully brainwashed…"

"That wouldn't be the worst," Jack cut in.

Vaughn knew what he was thinking. Maybe Sydney's transformation into Julia wasn't the result of conditioning. Maybe it was her choice. The thought made him both hopeful and terrified. If she wasn't brainwashed, there was a chance of bringing Sydney back. But the fact that she had voluntarily turned herself into this monster…

"I don't care!" said Vaughn heatedly, slamming his fist down on Jack's desk. "I don't care what the truth is. I love that woman. I'm going to break her out of here, with or without your help."

Jack looked up, and Vaughn saw that he'd finally gotten through to him.

"Good," Jack said. "I was hoping you'd feel that way. I have a plan laid out for her extraction."

Vaughn nodded. He had hoped for, even expected, something like this. "I want to go with her," he said simply. "Wherever you plan to hide her, I'm going there with her."

"Michael," said Jack…it was the first time he'd ever called him anything but Agent Vaughn. "Sydney's physical condition indicates that she was most likely not released willingly from the Covenant. The CIA wants to sentence her to death. Are you aware of the risks involved with accompanying her…with abetting her?"

All I know is that the woman who died two years ago is my entire life. Even if this woman, this Julia Thorne, is only a shadow of Sydney Bristow, or some contorted version of her, I will risk everything to be with her. Without her I am nothing.

Jack seemed to read his thoughts. "Meet me at the usual spot tonight and we'll discuss the logistics. There is one catch though," he said.

"What's that?"

"In order for the plan to work, you'll have to be married."

The two years of married life had past slowly, but without incident. Vaughn never for a moment regretted his choice, even though Julia never showed any hint of recognition for him, any spark of love, of desire…

That's not true, said the ever-present voice in his head. He tried to subdue that voice…it brought him hope, and hope was too painful.

But there had been times…he could count them on one hand…twice during their lovemaking, which was extremely rare, he had felt her tremble under his touch. And once at a friend's baby shower, when their eyes had met...

"You could at least act like you're happy to be here," Julia said to him as they walked into the ballroom. Her words were sharp, but her tone benign.

As had been happening lately in these instances, a sarcastic retort rose to the tips of Vaughn's lips. But he held it back. Julia had his arm inside of his…even through the jacket of his tuxedo, he could feel the warmth of her skin. He concentrated on that feeling, and soon he forgot his momentary bitterness.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked. It was a bold move. It had been ages since he'd even tried anything romantic with her. He wasn't sure what made him do it tonight…maybe it was the fact that she still had her arm tucked under his even though everyone at the party had already seen them walk in. Maybe it was the glass of wine he'd drank at home while waiting for her.

Julia raised her eyebrows and reached her hand up, as if to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. But she didn't complete the motion…That was a Sydney move.

"I should go mingle. People will expect it."

People will expect wives to dance with their husbands, Vaughn almost said. Instead he took a step closer to her and clasped her hands. They were cold.

"You look beautiful tonight," he whispered into her ear.

Julia looked away from him, her eyes scanning the room in recon. It was an old habit of theirs, unshakeable even after two years.

"Dance with me, Julia," he said quietly.

He was pleading with her. He had to hold onto her; the feeling of her hands wrapped securely in his sent fire running through his veins. Julia looked up at him and for one flash of a second, he thought he saw something in her eyes…it was her own form of pleading, a rare display of vulnerability. But it was gone just as soon, replaced by the usual confident emptiness.

"Maybe later, Michael."

She withdrew her hands and was gone.

Later that night as they lay at opposite ends of their king size bed, Vaughn saw that she was crying into her pillow. She did so silently...Vaughn knew she would have hated it if she knew he was a witness to her emotional display. He wouldn't have noticed at all, except for the almost imperceptible shaking of her thin frame. Crying at night wasn't an uncommon event for Julia, but it always broke his heart. He longed to put his arms around her, to cradle her, comfort her, but he knew better than that.

He had tried it once before and she nearly strangled him.

Suddenly the crying stopped.

"Michael," she whispered. There was fear in her voice.

"What is it?"

"Did you lock the door?"

He sighed. "Of course."

A/N: Well, what do you think? See, I told you I'd have the sequel up in a jiffy, and here it is, same day as the last chapter of WDBN was posted. I am amazing. Slashhhh I have no life. Ahem. Anyway, leave me lots of reviews please. Be brutally honest!