LOS ANGELES
Sydney couldn’t help it.
She tried to stay focused on Dixon’s briefing, but could only keep half her mind attentive to the subject. The rest of her was too overwhelmed with emotion, emotion she could not easily compartmentalize despite all her psychological training. Concern. Elation. Anxiety. Hope. Hurt. Love.
All directed towards the man sitting directly across from her.
Sydney watched Vaughn out of the corner of her eye, his face stoic as he too absorbed the briefing only halfheartedly. There was a twist of consternation she suspected only she (and possibly Weiss) could detect, evident in the creases in his cheekbones as he clenched his jaw.
He was holding up remarkably well in the wake of the news. He must have been devastated when it came out that his wife was a double agent working for the Covenant. But if so, he had not let on yet. For the past three weeks he had simply done his job, silently…. Distantly.
“We know Sark is attempting to consolidate his power within the Covenant, and we know he’s seeking this latest Rambaldi artifact to that end,” Dixon was saying. “What we’re unsure of is just what significance the artifact holds. None of our existing intelligence on Rambaldi mentions anything resembling this particular item.”
The LCD display at the front of the conference room flashed images of the latest refuge of Milo Rambaldi’s scattered collection It was a small orb, no more than six inches in diameter, its shiny nickel-plated surface flawlessly smooth from every angle.
“What we do know,” Jack Bristow chimed in,” Is that Rambaldi has made a number of devices which have applications as weapons. And if Sark is after this one, there’s a very good chance that whatever it is is dangerous.”
Sydney watched Vaughn scribbling notes. Feigning concentration. She knew his mind wasn’t on Milo Rambaldi or a top-security precious metals brokerage house in Athens. It was on Lauren.
And why shouldn’t it be? The bitch had married him under false pretenses, pretended to love him to gain access to CIA intel. Syd could empathize, somewhat, considering how Irina Derevko had used her father the same way.
Momentarily, Sydney wondered if Jack had attempted to reach out to Vaughn, or vice versa. The two men shared a unique sort of betrayal; it might do them both good to relate.
She doubted it though, knowing both of them.
She doubted something else as well: that Lauren had only been pretending to care for Vaughn.
It would be easier that way, if Lauren were a cold, heartless manipulator who never felt anything resembling genuine affection. It would be easier to hate her, and somehow make her less despicable to think she hadn’t done what she’d done to someone she’d ever loved, even a little.
Not much less, but less.
But she doubted that, just as she was sure Vaughn was doubting it too, trying to separate what had been real from what had been an illusion. That, Sydney could relate to all too well.
“Agent Bristow, Agent Weiss,” Dixon said. “You’ll infiltrate the facility as jewel dealers and intercept the artifact before Sark can get his hands on it.”
Vaughn’s expression finally changed – he looked momentarily stunned.
“Agent Vaughn will run backup,” Dixon continued. “Marshall will provide you with a full schematic outlay of the complex and bypass the security at the appropriate time.”
“It’s actually pretty basic,” Marshall blurted, launching into an array of hand gestures and nervous ticks. “I mean, it’s a top of the line system, yeah, but there’s top line and then there’s – y’know – TOP top line. This is more bottom-top line. Which is to say, still pretty damn good, y’know, much better than, say, top-middle line, or middle-middle line or definitely bottom-middle line, but uh, well, anyways, it’s far from state-of-the-art. So it’s really pretty simple to get around if you know what you’re doing, and luckily, I do, so –“
“Sir,” Vaughn finally spoke up, mercifully cutting Marshall off. “With all due respect, I’d like to go in on this one.”
“Are you sure that’s a wise idea, Agent Vaughn,” Dixon inquired.
“Everyone knew what he was getting at. They might encounter Sark there, and Sark wasn’t working alone these days.
“I understand your reservations,” Vaughn said flatly. “They’re unfounded. If Lauren is there, I’d be better able to anticipate her actions than anyone. It could be a valuable edge.”
It must have been killing him to say such things about a women he’d been sharing a bed with less than a month ago. But Vaughn didn’t flinch.
Dixon regarded his agent for a moment, gauging not how much Vaughn meant his words but how much he believed them.
“All right. Vaughn will go in with Sydney. Weiss will lead backup. Marshall will fill you in on the op-tech.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You leave in two hours.”
ATHENS
“Some of the rarest metallurgical specimens in the world are housed within these walls,” the director was saying as he lead Agents Bristow and Vaughn, posing as a wealthy French couple, through the facility. “Our most valuable items are stored inside of one of the most sophisticated vaults in Europe.”
“Pfft, yeah in his dreams,” Sydney heard Marshall snicker in her earpiece.
They had just exited a room filled with dozens of brilliantly displayed cut diamonds, and were now heading right past the corridor leading to the vault where the Rambaldi artifact was kept, according to the schematics they’d reviewed. Sydney, gliding down the hall in a blonde wig and a long fur coat that disguised her game-time outfit, took the opportunity to break from the tour.
“Oooh, Claude, I simply must see those wonderful diamonds again!” she fawned in an impeccable French accent.
“Marie, please,” Vaughn replied. “We mustn’t waste the gentleman’s time, not to mention our own.”
“It’s quite all right,” the director said. “If the lady would like she can peruse our diamond collection while we discuss the financial specifics in my office. One of our security guards will be happy to escort her.”
“If you’re sure it’s no bother….” said “Claude.”
Sydney hopped and clapped her hands excitedly. “I shall meet you by the diamonds when you are finished,” she said, giving her mock-husband a peck on the cheek before dashing back down the hall.
Once out of sight, she hurried down the corridor to the vault, discarding the fur coat, wig and rose-colored sunglasses. Clad now in more stealthy and more comfortable apparel – black tank-top, pants and boots – Syd made her way towards the vault as Marshall fed her directions.
“I’ve disabled the cameras and I’m feeding them looped images, so they’ll never see you were here,” he said. “The door locks are all controlled by the computer mainframe, which I’ve already hacked into. I’ve sent a bug to the system that I can activate with a few keystrokes. Once I do, I’ll be able to Open Sesame. You’ll have a four minute window to get in and out before anyone knows what’s going on.”
“Four minutes,” Sydney replied. “I almost have time for a cup of coffee.”
She turned another corner and arrived at the vault door. “I’m here,” she told Marshall.
“Okay, Syd. Bug activating…..now.”
Seconds later, the door slid open with a deep “fwoosh!” Sydney darted in, down a fortified corridor filled with inactive laser sensors, through two more security doors that slid open as soon as she approached them.
There in the center of the inner vault, held aloft on a five foot high pedestal, was the Rambaldi artifact. And there next to it, standing over a dead guard, was –
“Sark!”
“Agent Bristow,” Julian Sark hissed. “Late again I see.”
Sark made a move for his gun, but Sydney knocked it out of his hand with a swift running kick. He responded with a blow to her head, knocking her off balance.
She recovered just in time to avoid another blow, and floored Sark with a leg sweep. Sark rolled away, leapt to his feet. They exchanged a flurry of lightning-quick punching and even quicker dodging.
As they skirmished, Marshall warned, “Two and a half minutes!”
* * *
Meanwhile, Vaughn was racing down the hallway after hastily excusing himself from the director’s office with a not-entirely-convincing line about needing the washroom. He had heard Sydney speak Sark’s name into her mouthpiece, and he knew time was short to boot.
Two guards tried to halt him as he came upon the vault, but he dispatched them with a couple of well-placed karate chops. “Thirty seconds!” Marshall alerted.
* * *
Sydney heard it too, as she and Sark continued to grapple. She finally managed to get the upper hand, pinning him to the ground hard. But she didn’t have the advantage for long, as she felt a sharp blow connect with the base of her skull, knocking her to the ground.
Dizzied, she rolled limply onto her back, found herself staring up at Sark as he rose to his feet and trained his gun on her.
“I do wish Mr. Flinkman hadn’t disabled the cameras,” he said. “I would have treasured having a souvenir of this moment.”
“SARK! DROP IT!” Vaughn yelled from the corridor, firing a couple of shots. Sark didn’t flinch. The door was sliding closed, and it sealed shut half a second before Vaughn got there.
“Marshall!” he yelled, pounding the reinforced metal in frustration. “Open the goddamn doors!”
“I’m trying!” Marshall sayd, frantically flying over his keyboard 5,000 miles away.
Sark, meanwhile, focused his attention, his reptilian grin, and his gun on Sydney. But before he had a chance to shoot, Lauren beat him to the punch.
Sydney had see her standing alongside Sark – she’d been the one who had clobbered her. But still groggy, she only faintly saw Lauren draw her gun and squeeze the trigger before everything went black.
Sark regarded Lauren curiously, eyeing the dart she’d put in Sydney’s shoulder. “A tranquilizer?”
“We don’t want her dead yet,” Lauren said. “At least, I don’t. I have some very special plans for Agent Bristow.”
* * *
They were too late. By the time Marshall had reopened the security doors and Vaughn gained access to the vault, there was no trace of Syd or Sark, save for the corpse left in the terrorist’s wake. They had escaped out the rear access corridor, opened with the late guard’s credentials no doubt.
Vaughn raced down the corridor as fast as his legs would carry him for roughly half a mile before finding himself outside behind the facility. No sign.
“Weiss,” he spoke into his mike. “Get the chopper here, now!”
“Already on our way, should be picking you up shortly,” Weiss said.
Vaughn collapsed to his knees, catching his breath, and in the solitude of the moment before the copter arrived, his panting turned to silent weeps.
* * *
Sydney awoke, as she had done too many times, in a dark and unfamiliar place, chained down, head throbbing. Immediately she assessed her surroundings: cold and cavernous, rusted machinery in the distance – some sort of abandoned factory. Was she still in Greece? Who knew? No way to know how long she’d been out; she could have been practically anywhere.
She was strapped to a cold metal slab – a torture rack, obviously. Her legs were spread apart, each one strapped to one of the legs of the Y-shaped rack. Her arms were stretched tightly over her head, with her wrists shackled behind the nape of her neck, her elbows point straight up. Her back was arched slightly, baring her midsection to the chill that swept through.
She’d been drugged, brought here – for what? Interrogation? Sark had seemed pretty content to kill her before Lauren stepped in. What would she have to gain by keeping her alive?
The only answer she could come up with wasn’t very comforting.
Revenge.
CONTINUED IN THIS THREAD
Sydney couldn’t help it.
She tried to stay focused on Dixon’s briefing, but could only keep half her mind attentive to the subject. The rest of her was too overwhelmed with emotion, emotion she could not easily compartmentalize despite all her psychological training. Concern. Elation. Anxiety. Hope. Hurt. Love.
All directed towards the man sitting directly across from her.
Sydney watched Vaughn out of the corner of her eye, his face stoic as he too absorbed the briefing only halfheartedly. There was a twist of consternation she suspected only she (and possibly Weiss) could detect, evident in the creases in his cheekbones as he clenched his jaw.
He was holding up remarkably well in the wake of the news. He must have been devastated when it came out that his wife was a double agent working for the Covenant. But if so, he had not let on yet. For the past three weeks he had simply done his job, silently…. Distantly.
“We know Sark is attempting to consolidate his power within the Covenant, and we know he’s seeking this latest Rambaldi artifact to that end,” Dixon was saying. “What we’re unsure of is just what significance the artifact holds. None of our existing intelligence on Rambaldi mentions anything resembling this particular item.”
The LCD display at the front of the conference room flashed images of the latest refuge of Milo Rambaldi’s scattered collection It was a small orb, no more than six inches in diameter, its shiny nickel-plated surface flawlessly smooth from every angle.
“What we do know,” Jack Bristow chimed in,” Is that Rambaldi has made a number of devices which have applications as weapons. And if Sark is after this one, there’s a very good chance that whatever it is is dangerous.”
Sydney watched Vaughn scribbling notes. Feigning concentration. She knew his mind wasn’t on Milo Rambaldi or a top-security precious metals brokerage house in Athens. It was on Lauren.
And why shouldn’t it be? The bitch had married him under false pretenses, pretended to love him to gain access to CIA intel. Syd could empathize, somewhat, considering how Irina Derevko had used her father the same way.
Momentarily, Sydney wondered if Jack had attempted to reach out to Vaughn, or vice versa. The two men shared a unique sort of betrayal; it might do them both good to relate.
She doubted it though, knowing both of them.
She doubted something else as well: that Lauren had only been pretending to care for Vaughn.
It would be easier that way, if Lauren were a cold, heartless manipulator who never felt anything resembling genuine affection. It would be easier to hate her, and somehow make her less despicable to think she hadn’t done what she’d done to someone she’d ever loved, even a little.
Not much less, but less.
But she doubted that, just as she was sure Vaughn was doubting it too, trying to separate what had been real from what had been an illusion. That, Sydney could relate to all too well.
“Agent Bristow, Agent Weiss,” Dixon said. “You’ll infiltrate the facility as jewel dealers and intercept the artifact before Sark can get his hands on it.”
Vaughn’s expression finally changed – he looked momentarily stunned.
“Agent Vaughn will run backup,” Dixon continued. “Marshall will provide you with a full schematic outlay of the complex and bypass the security at the appropriate time.”
“It’s actually pretty basic,” Marshall blurted, launching into an array of hand gestures and nervous ticks. “I mean, it’s a top of the line system, yeah, but there’s top line and then there’s – y’know – TOP top line. This is more bottom-top line. Which is to say, still pretty damn good, y’know, much better than, say, top-middle line, or middle-middle line or definitely bottom-middle line, but uh, well, anyways, it’s far from state-of-the-art. So it’s really pretty simple to get around if you know what you’re doing, and luckily, I do, so –“
“Sir,” Vaughn finally spoke up, mercifully cutting Marshall off. “With all due respect, I’d like to go in on this one.”
“Are you sure that’s a wise idea, Agent Vaughn,” Dixon inquired.
“Everyone knew what he was getting at. They might encounter Sark there, and Sark wasn’t working alone these days.
“I understand your reservations,” Vaughn said flatly. “They’re unfounded. If Lauren is there, I’d be better able to anticipate her actions than anyone. It could be a valuable edge.”
It must have been killing him to say such things about a women he’d been sharing a bed with less than a month ago. But Vaughn didn’t flinch.
Dixon regarded his agent for a moment, gauging not how much Vaughn meant his words but how much he believed them.
“All right. Vaughn will go in with Sydney. Weiss will lead backup. Marshall will fill you in on the op-tech.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You leave in two hours.”
ATHENS
“Some of the rarest metallurgical specimens in the world are housed within these walls,” the director was saying as he lead Agents Bristow and Vaughn, posing as a wealthy French couple, through the facility. “Our most valuable items are stored inside of one of the most sophisticated vaults in Europe.”
“Pfft, yeah in his dreams,” Sydney heard Marshall snicker in her earpiece.
They had just exited a room filled with dozens of brilliantly displayed cut diamonds, and were now heading right past the corridor leading to the vault where the Rambaldi artifact was kept, according to the schematics they’d reviewed. Sydney, gliding down the hall in a blonde wig and a long fur coat that disguised her game-time outfit, took the opportunity to break from the tour.
“Oooh, Claude, I simply must see those wonderful diamonds again!” she fawned in an impeccable French accent.
“Marie, please,” Vaughn replied. “We mustn’t waste the gentleman’s time, not to mention our own.”
“It’s quite all right,” the director said. “If the lady would like she can peruse our diamond collection while we discuss the financial specifics in my office. One of our security guards will be happy to escort her.”
“If you’re sure it’s no bother….” said “Claude.”
Sydney hopped and clapped her hands excitedly. “I shall meet you by the diamonds when you are finished,” she said, giving her mock-husband a peck on the cheek before dashing back down the hall.
Once out of sight, she hurried down the corridor to the vault, discarding the fur coat, wig and rose-colored sunglasses. Clad now in more stealthy and more comfortable apparel – black tank-top, pants and boots – Syd made her way towards the vault as Marshall fed her directions.
“I’ve disabled the cameras and I’m feeding them looped images, so they’ll never see you were here,” he said. “The door locks are all controlled by the computer mainframe, which I’ve already hacked into. I’ve sent a bug to the system that I can activate with a few keystrokes. Once I do, I’ll be able to Open Sesame. You’ll have a four minute window to get in and out before anyone knows what’s going on.”
“Four minutes,” Sydney replied. “I almost have time for a cup of coffee.”
She turned another corner and arrived at the vault door. “I’m here,” she told Marshall.
“Okay, Syd. Bug activating…..now.”
Seconds later, the door slid open with a deep “fwoosh!” Sydney darted in, down a fortified corridor filled with inactive laser sensors, through two more security doors that slid open as soon as she approached them.
There in the center of the inner vault, held aloft on a five foot high pedestal, was the Rambaldi artifact. And there next to it, standing over a dead guard, was –
“Sark!”
“Agent Bristow,” Julian Sark hissed. “Late again I see.”
Sark made a move for his gun, but Sydney knocked it out of his hand with a swift running kick. He responded with a blow to her head, knocking her off balance.
She recovered just in time to avoid another blow, and floored Sark with a leg sweep. Sark rolled away, leapt to his feet. They exchanged a flurry of lightning-quick punching and even quicker dodging.
As they skirmished, Marshall warned, “Two and a half minutes!”
* * *
Meanwhile, Vaughn was racing down the hallway after hastily excusing himself from the director’s office with a not-entirely-convincing line about needing the washroom. He had heard Sydney speak Sark’s name into her mouthpiece, and he knew time was short to boot.
Two guards tried to halt him as he came upon the vault, but he dispatched them with a couple of well-placed karate chops. “Thirty seconds!” Marshall alerted.
* * *
Sydney heard it too, as she and Sark continued to grapple. She finally managed to get the upper hand, pinning him to the ground hard. But she didn’t have the advantage for long, as she felt a sharp blow connect with the base of her skull, knocking her to the ground.
Dizzied, she rolled limply onto her back, found herself staring up at Sark as he rose to his feet and trained his gun on her.
“I do wish Mr. Flinkman hadn’t disabled the cameras,” he said. “I would have treasured having a souvenir of this moment.”
“SARK! DROP IT!” Vaughn yelled from the corridor, firing a couple of shots. Sark didn’t flinch. The door was sliding closed, and it sealed shut half a second before Vaughn got there.
“Marshall!” he yelled, pounding the reinforced metal in frustration. “Open the goddamn doors!”
“I’m trying!” Marshall sayd, frantically flying over his keyboard 5,000 miles away.
Sark, meanwhile, focused his attention, his reptilian grin, and his gun on Sydney. But before he had a chance to shoot, Lauren beat him to the punch.
Sydney had see her standing alongside Sark – she’d been the one who had clobbered her. But still groggy, she only faintly saw Lauren draw her gun and squeeze the trigger before everything went black.
Sark regarded Lauren curiously, eyeing the dart she’d put in Sydney’s shoulder. “A tranquilizer?”
“We don’t want her dead yet,” Lauren said. “At least, I don’t. I have some very special plans for Agent Bristow.”
* * *
They were too late. By the time Marshall had reopened the security doors and Vaughn gained access to the vault, there was no trace of Syd or Sark, save for the corpse left in the terrorist’s wake. They had escaped out the rear access corridor, opened with the late guard’s credentials no doubt.
Vaughn raced down the corridor as fast as his legs would carry him for roughly half a mile before finding himself outside behind the facility. No sign.
“Weiss,” he spoke into his mike. “Get the chopper here, now!”
“Already on our way, should be picking you up shortly,” Weiss said.
Vaughn collapsed to his knees, catching his breath, and in the solitude of the moment before the copter arrived, his panting turned to silent weeps.
* * *
Sydney awoke, as she had done too many times, in a dark and unfamiliar place, chained down, head throbbing. Immediately she assessed her surroundings: cold and cavernous, rusted machinery in the distance – some sort of abandoned factory. Was she still in Greece? Who knew? No way to know how long she’d been out; she could have been practically anywhere.
She was strapped to a cold metal slab – a torture rack, obviously. Her legs were spread apart, each one strapped to one of the legs of the Y-shaped rack. Her arms were stretched tightly over her head, with her wrists shackled behind the nape of her neck, her elbows point straight up. Her back was arched slightly, baring her midsection to the chill that swept through.
She’d been drugged, brought here – for what? Interrogation? Sark had seemed pretty content to kill her before Lauren stepped in. What would she have to gain by keeping her alive?
The only answer she could come up with wasn’t very comforting.
Revenge.
CONTINUED IN THIS THREAD
WOW!!!Great fan fiction. I absolutely loved the tickling of Jennifer Garner as her Alias character. I also loved how your story (unlike the show) was uncut and not edited for television.LOL. Screw the F.C.C. Very VERY good story, my man!!! Thumbs way up!!!
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