Small World

A/N: Yeah about the birthday reference in this- check abc.com profiles. Sydney and Weiss do, in fact, have the same birthday. Lol. Just wanted to point that out so you don’t think I’m totally random. ;-)



Chapter Six ~ Skye’s POV
By Dani

“Ugh!” I almost have it, but my hairclip keeps slipping out of the keyhole. Finally, I hear it click.

Looking on either side of me to make sure no one is coming, I quietly turn the knob and enter the empty apartment. I shut the door softly behind me.

I feel so criminal. I feel violating. And yet, somehow, something about sneaking around, having an objective in mind and knowing I have to accomplish it, is giving me a rush. It’s giving me this feeling that I’ve never had. It’s... invigorating.

I step carefully around the neat, organized, spotless rooms looking for a hint or a clue. A picture in a bronze frame sits on the top of Michael’s T.V. It shows him with an extremely beautiful woman who I’ve never seen before. This has to be her. This has to be Sydney.

Shiny, straight brown hair falls to her shoulders. Her eyes are a bright hazel, and a wide smile seems to light up her whole face.

In the photo, Mike’s arm is wrapped tightly around her shoulders. A birthday cake sits on the table in front of them. In the background, a sign on the wall reads “April 17th- Happy Birthday Eric and Sydney!”

Mike and Sydney look so... happy, so content with each other. They really must be in love.

So now I know that Sydney’s birthday was two weeks ago, the same day as Michael’s friend Eric. I’ve only met him once but I remember laughing at his jokes.

I look away from the picture in search of something else. I don’t want to intrude any more than I already have, so I decide to stay clear of the bedroom. I’m about to shuffle through some more of the photographs decorating the room when the phone rings.

Now, I may be dense enough to sneak into my neighbor’s apartment, my neighbor who’s a freaking CIA agent, but I’m not so stupid that I’d answer his phone. I let it ring. The machine picks up.

“Hi, you’ve reached Michael Vaughn. I’m not in right now so leave a message at the beep or call my cell phone at 323-555-7236. Thanks.” BEEP.

“Hello, Agent Vaughn, this is Director Kendall. I’m calling to remind you about the report you have to turn in tomorrow- don’t forget. I expect Miss Bristow and yourself to be there on time tomorrow. You and Sydney seem to have problems with that.” Click.

Sydney... Agent Bristow. It’s not hard to put two and two together. Well, now that I have a full name, I think I can leave. I can find a lot with a full name. Mission accomplished.

As I head out the door, I accidentally knock a small wooden table. A manila folder that had been resting on it slides off and lands opened on the navy blue carpet. “s***,” I mutter, and bend to pick it up.

That’s when I notice the tab. “Bristow, Sydney.” I try not to pay attention as I straightened the contents of the folder out and place them back in. The picture on top catches my eye, though, and I can’t help but take a second glance.

At the top, “Agent Wardrobe- Taipei” is written. A colored sketch lies below that. It’s a bright blue, chin length wig, a black vinyl brassier under a long sleeved black fishnet top, and shiny black pants. I can’t imagine what the outfit was for.

In any case, I know I have to get out of here. I put the folder back neatly on the table and quietly exit the apartment. In the safety of the hall, I pull out my cell phone and dial information.

“Information, what is your question?” a mechanical voice asks.

“Can I get the listing for Sydney Bristow?”

I wait for a second, then the automated voice says “Spelling, please.”

I walk down to the other end of the hallway while speaking. “S-Y-D-N-E-Y...B-R-I-S-T-O-W.”

Another pause. “Philadelphia, Los Angeles, or Columbus?”

“Los Angeles.”

“Sydney Bristow: 361 Nashua Avenue, Los Angeles. 323-555-8473. Will that be all?”

I’ll never figure out how these recordings know what you’re saying. “Yes.”

“Thank you for calling informational services. You will be charged $1.50 for your call. Have a nice day!”

I recite the information to myself as I click off the phone and enter my apartment again. For some reason, my cell phone suddenly rings before I have the chance to put it down. “Hello?”

“...she... Hawke...”

What? That’s my last name! It’s hard to hear the voices through the static, but I can make out some words.

“...Vaughn.... Skye...”

Static.

Then nothing.

***

A/N: Yet another mysterious phone call ending. I’m sensing a pattern here. Lol. Well don’t worry, the really good stuff starts coming very soon. And don’t worry about us dropping this fic. We’re on chap. 20 already. Lol. I’m just too lazy to type them all. ;-)

PLEEEEEEEEAAAAASE review!!!!
 
Oh my word this is so good. Sorry I haven't read in a while, but I hope you update soon!! And I NEVER ask, but I would hate to forget about this awesome story again, so could you send me a PM pretty please?

AWESOME JOB!! :D
 
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