helgavonnutwimple
Cadet
Title: Blood Will Tell
Author: Helga Von Nutwimple
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Property of J.J. Abrams and other people.
Setting: Just after 4x14.
Summary: "It seems like my father likes having all his eggs where he can watch them hatch."
--------------------------------------------------
"Syd. Hey."
"Marshall." Sydney ran her hand through her hair, looked at the clock. "What are you doing here?"
"Yeah, sorry... kinda late, huh? I should totally be getting home, but... Allison Doren."
Every molecule in Sydney's body froze. "What about Allison Doren?"
"Oh, oh, Syd, don't freak, don't freak. She's still dead and stuff. I mean, as far as we know. It's just, the thing is, I was wondering, um, if you had any information about the technology that made her look like Francie? Something more than we have in the computers, 'cause of course I have all that stuff."
"Why?"
"Well, I mean, that -- y'know, the stuff they did to her. It rebuilt her into Francie, right? Rewrote her genetic code?"
"Yes."
"Well, I was thinking, 'cause I do that, y'know, when I'm driving, right? And I was driving home. And thinking. Y'know. What if you took that technology, and you used it on the same person? Like say I injected you or whatever the delivery method is, 'cause hi, our records on that totally blow, but say I injected you with Sydney. So your cells got all -- Sydneyfied."
Sydney sighed. "What would that accomplish?"
"Well, it would cure cancer, for one thing," Marshall chuckled. "Nothing important."
"It would -- what?"
"It'd cure everything, wouldn't it? I mean, basically it'd go through your body rewriting your genetic code with a fresh copy of your own genetic code. Heart disease, gone. Cancer, gone. I mean, if you had something genetic, well, that wouldn't help much, but... do you see what I mean? How huge this is? And I mean, how much like the bad guys is it to have this kind of technology and use it to steal stuff?"
"Why do you have a sudden interest in curing cancer?"
Marshall's eyes widened; he forced out a laugh. "Do I need a reason to want to cure cancer?"
"Marshall, there's something you're not telling me. Are you... sick?"
"Me? Noooo. No. Healthy as a horse. Just... y'know. Driving, and thinking. Like you do."
"I gave all my information on Allison Doren to the CIA. If I know it, you already know it."
Marshall deflated. "Oh. Okay. I was just, y'know. Checking."
"At two a.m."
"Yeah. Sorry, I had a lot of coffee, and I, well, you know me, caffeine -- whoo! So I'm gonna go. But thanks."
Sydney grinned. "Goodnight, Marshall."
"Goodnight, Syd."
--------------------------------------------------
"Marshall was behaving rather oddly this morning," Sloane remarked casually, staring at Jack. "He came babbling into my office wanting to know what I knew about the technology used on Alison Doren."
"Do you think this correlates to Vaughn's activities? Have he and Marshall been in contact?"
"I don't think so. Marshall seemed to believe that the technology used on Alison could be used to cure cancer. He intimated that the process could be modified to rejuvenate a human -- rewrite them with a fresh copy of their genetic code, eliminating all damage done to the bodily systems."
Not a single muscle on Jack's face moved. "That's an interesting hypothesis."
"He must, of course, be prevented from acquiring any more information."
"Yes, a cure for cancer," Jack drawled. "What a horrible catastrophe that would be."
"Jack, you know as well as I do that Marshall uses himself as a guinea pig when he is researching. I don't have to spell out the possible consequences of Marshall examining his own genetic code... or attempting to use such a device on himself."
"I see no reason why Marshall couldn't be provided with 'guinea pigs' when he reaches the human testing stage. The world is full of cancer patients willing to try any cure available."
"How humanitarian of you, Jack. Interesting."
"I see no reason to deny the world a great discovery when our secrecy is so easily maintained."
"Marshall is far from stupid, Jack."
Jack smiled. "You imply that Vaughn and I are not."
"And that known precedent is exactly why we must be more careful than ever."
"He suspects nothing."
"See that it stays that way. These are our families on the line. Nothing... nothing... is more important."
--------------------------------------------------
"So..." Nadia smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "Cured cancer yet?"
"Everybody knows about that, huh?" Marshall rolled down the table, picking up his soldering iron. "Yeah, it got kinda back-burnered. I'm up to my neck in tech requests. I think Sloane wants me to get divorced."
"Carrie isn't too happy about your late nights?"
"She's a sweetheart about it. But, y'know. Mitch can be a little handful -- she could really use my help. Especially since she thinks I work in I.T., y'know? Not quite as convincing an excuse as 'Honey, I'll be late, gotta save the world'."
"Any new pictures?"
"Oh, are you kidding? Always." Marshall thrust a digital camera at Nadia. "Haven't had time to transfer these over yet."
She advanced through the photos. "He's adorable. Is Carrie blonde?"
"Nope, nope. That's right, you never met her. She's awesome. Black hair, though. I wondered about that too, when he arrived, y'know -- Who else have you been having sushi with, honey? -- but turns out, the blonde's all me. Mom says I was blonde at his age. He'll grow out of it."
"How did you meet Carrie?"
"Uh, right after I joined the CIA. The real CIA, I mean, not SD-6. That was a crazy story, did you ever hear that story? It's cool."
Nadia sat down. "No, never. Am I interrupting you?"
"Interrupting? Heck no, I'm multitask man. Anyway, I was back at SD-6, and Syd and I had to go on a mission together. It was my first mission, y'know, but I was very cool. Anyway, after the mission, Syd and I are in separate cars 'cause I'm supposed to be extracted by the CIA, right? Only the CIA doesn't get me, these total creeps do. Tortured me, y'know? So I tell them I'll rewrite their evil software for them, right, only I'm totally stalling them and writing a copy of Pong. It was awesome. I was all 'Ha-ha!' and stuff." He nodded excitedly. "So then Syd had to wait, on the extraction thing. But later, y'know. Okay, that wasn't when I came to the CIA, I just wanted to tell that story 'cause it's badass."
Nadia grinned. "So when did you come to the CIA?"
"Later. It wasn't as cool. I mean, Syd was cool. I didn't really have coolness opportunities at that time. But I came to the CIA, and Carrie got assigned here. She liked Joni Mitchell."
"Love at first sight, huh?"
"Well, uh, kinda. I mean, she asked me out. We had sushi. But I had, y'know, sweating issues. So it really didn't go anywhere. And then, about a year later, she asked me out again. Said she couldn't stop thinking about me." He smirked. "Totally hot for the Flinkman."
"Back when Sydney was gone."
"Yeah, that sucked. I wrote a poem about it. Do you want to hear it? It's called, 'I've Lost My Keys'. Sydney's the keys. It's a metaphor."
"You really missed her."
"Well, yeah! She's Syd. It's like in the poem, y'know, with the keys. You never realize how important keys are until you lose them, y'know? And then, like a million times a day, you're all -- felgercarb, my keys, everything sucks now!"
Nadia bit back a smile. "Sounds like a good metaphor."
"Yeah, it was way better than the first one I wrote, about RAM? I mean, just as essential, but the whole computer doesn't work then so it really didn't go. Also, nothing rhymed."
"Marshall... would you mind if I printed out this one? It's so cute."
Marshall beamed. "Sure, no problem! Just stick the camera in the cradle on that printer over there, do you see it? Yeah, and push the green button. You need a frame? I have extra."
"That's okay. I have one in mind for it." Nadia picked up the printout, grinned. "It'll be nice to have something on my desk a little cuter than security briefings."
"Well, I've got more, if you want 'em. There's this really cute one of him in the bathtub, with his hair in these little shampoo devil-horns? I mean, you could just die."
"Hey, Nadia. You ready for lunch?" Weiss asked, sticking his head through the doorway.
"Definitely." Nadia shot an apologetic look at Marshall. "We'll talk later?"
"Sure, yeah! And I'll read you that poem!"
"Looking forward to it," Nadia grinned.
--------------------------------------------------
Weiss lay on his back on the blanket, staring up at the clouds. "So what's up with the spontaneous picnic? You just feel the need to see the sky, or just couldn't take another day of cafeteria slop?"
"I wanted to show you something," Nadia said, reaching into her handbag. She passed him a photograph.
"Hey, Mitchell Flinkman. Cute kid. Why do you have this?"
"Because I also have this." She passed him another photo.
"Whoa, Irina Derevko. Oh my God, is that a little Nadia? 'Cause I can totally see your nipples."
"I don't know who the child in the picture is. It could be me, or Sydney, or... someone else entirely."
"Your family gets weirder by the day. So why am I looking at cute babies? You tryin' to tell me something? I don't think we have enough time left on our lunch break, but if you're not busy later..."
"Look at the babies," Nadia interrupted. "Really look at them."
"Sorry, Nadia. Dude here. All babies look alike to me."
"Not this much alike."
Weiss sighed. "Okay. Arvin Sloane's your dad, and that would make me paranoid as hell too. But all babies look like Winston Churchill. What are you trying to tell me here... that Carrie's really Elena Derevko?"
"No, no... I thought about it, but she's too young."
"Oh, my God, you're actually being serious about this. Sweetie, I've met Carrie. She's this... she used to cry at her terminal for no reason, okay? She calls Marshall 'pookie bear', for crying out loud."
"Oh? And what did Lauren Reed call Vaughn?"
"Nadia. Seriously. Pa-ra-noid. I'm telling you right now, you could hold Mystery Baby up against any other baby, and you'd see the massive Churchill resemblance. Obviously this picture's bothering you, Marshall happens to spam the office with pictures of his kid..."
"I have seen other babies before, Eric."
"Geez, Nadia, what are you going to do? Offer to babysit the kid and take DNA samples?"
Weiss froze at Nadia's face. "Oh, felgercarb, I was kidding! Kidding!"
--------------------------------------------------
"Carrie... come on!"
"No, Marshall. I'm sorry, but that's final." Carrie reached across the bathtub for the baby wash. "I'm not letting Arvin Sloane's freaky daughter babysit our child. How did you get in contact with Nadia, anyway?"
"I ran into her at the Burger King, we started talking. I've missed the old crew, Carrie. Syd, Vaughn, Dixon, Weiss. Y'know."
"So call them, invite them over for dinner. Do I really have to remind you that you ate eggs with Sark? This is no different."
"It's totally different. Nadia's sweet, Sark's a psychopath. I'd say that's a large difference."
"No, Marshall. Why are you so gung-ho about a babysitter all of a sudden, anyway?"
"Well, I just... I thought... I mean, y'know, I thought we could use a break. Have some..." Marshall dropped his voice. "Y'know... alone time."
Carrie whipped around from the bathtub, furious. "Is that what this is about?"
"Carrie, Carrie... no ightingfay in front of the itchellmay..."
"I'm tired, Marshall. You go off to work and play with servers all day. My job never stops. I'm chasing him around the house, I do all the cleaning, I do all the cooking... I'm tired!"
"Sweetie, I get that, I really do. Hence the babysitter, right? I was thinking we could both use a night off."
"So you can get laid."
"Well, y'know... I kinda thought that came with the whole 'married' package..."
"Oh, did you! Hello, Marshall, I was in labor when we got married. Then I had a kid... I don't know if you've noticed, but that hurts! And then... you know what? You know what? You bathe him."
"Carrie... Carrie, I didn't mean..."
"You are such a... such a man! I can't even look at you right now."
The bathroom door slammed, and Marshall sighed, leaning over the bathtub to rinse out Mitchell's hair.
"It's okay, Mitch. Mommy and Daddy aren't really mad at each other. And don't... don't get the wrong idea from that, okay? Women are to be respected, and not to be used as sexual objects." Marshall sighed, pouring water over Mitchell's hair. "No matter how insanely long it's been."
--------------------------------------------------
Vaughn's lips trailed down her stomach, lingering at her bellybutton. Sydney giggled.
Vaughn grinned. "Not the reaction I was going for."
"Sorry. Ticklish."
He moved to the scar at her hip, pressed his lips against it.
"Vaughn... not there."
He propped himself up on an elbow. "You know, if you want me to go straight for the gold..."
"It's not that. It's just... not there."
His brow furrowed. "Does it hurt?"
"No. No, it's just... I don't like to think about it. And it's hard, y'know, not to think about it, when Michael Vaughn, Sex God, has his Sex God lips on it."
"Well, you certainly know how to kiss my ego all better."
"It's nothing against you. It's just... a reminder. Of everything they took from me. And that sends my mind into bad places..."
Vaughn grimaced. "Yeah, I can imagine. That's mental space I like to avoid myself."
"I've totally ruined the moment, haven't I?"
"Eh... you want some toast?"
"I take that as a yes."
"Well, you know what they say about the aphrodisiac properties of toast..."
She laughed. "Vaughn, there are no aphrodisiac properties of toast."
"Yeah, well." He rolled to the edge of the bed, picked up the phone. "When we're done? There's gonna be a nationwide bread shortage."
She cocked an eyebrow playfully. "What about jelly?"
"Mmm, sure, we can use that too. What flavor should I have room service send up?"
"Maybe room service isn't the best idea," Sydney frowned.
Vaughn hung up the phone. "Do you think you were tracked coming here?"
"I don't think so. But I work for Arvin Sloane. So..."
"Marshall scanned you for bugs, right?"
"Yeah, but... I mean, I could hardly bring in the sexy underwear and have him scan it without raising suspicions."
"And his blood pressure."
"Aw, c'mon. Marshall's so over his crush on me."
"I think at this point, Marshall could get excited by a particularly curvy spoon."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, he hasn't come out and said anything... but he's made some comments. I kinda get the impression that saying 'I Do' gave Carrie a permanent headache."
"Well, that sucks."
Vaughn shrugged. "Hormones, I guess. She was all over him before."
"That's hard to imagine." Sydney blushed. "I mean, not that he's unattractive or anything. He's just... Marshall."
"Remind me again why we're talking about Marshall Flinkman when you're wearing the sexy underwear?"
Sydney grinned as he climbed across the bed. "What about the toast?"
"Screw the toast," Vaughn growled.
--------------------------------------------------
"Hey, Nadia, have you seen my..." Weiss paused, shirt in hand, staring at the screen of her laptop. "Oh Nadia, geez."
"I'm just curious," Nadia protested, moving the mouse to scroll through Carrie's personnel file.
"You're not curious, you're obsessed. You're cute when you're curious. You're still cute when you're obsessed, but kinda scary too. I prefer the straight cute, it makes me worry less that you're gonna get shot again."
"Eric, look. There is something about that picture, okay? When I showed it to Jack, he got all... weird."
"Oh, how could you tell? Eyebrow went up a tenth of a millimeter?"
"Don't make fun." Nadia turned back to her screen, pouting slightly.
"I'm not making fun. It's just... Jack would have a million reasons to get weird over that photograph. I mean, no offense, but your Mom? Not really winning any wife-of-the-year awards."
Nadia's lips compressed. "I'm aware of that."
"She cheated on him with Sloane. His best friend. I mean... I wouldn't be dancing a jig if I found out you were doin' it with Vaughn." Weiss slid his hands around her waist, kissed her neck. "You're not doin' it with Vaughn, are you? I know he's got the whole chiseled thing, but..."
Nadia laughed. "I think Sydney has 'doin' it with Vaughn' completely taken care of. It's just... don't you think it's weird? I mean, my and Sydney's mother killed Vaughn's father, after he took me to the orphanage. Me, Sydney, Vaughn, all interrelated. It shouldn't happen, not by chance alone... and then he was randomly assigned to be her handler? My father recruited Sydney into SD-6, knowing Jack didn't want her there. It seems like... it seems like my father likes having all his eggs where he can watch them hatch."
"Well, we'd better not be related," Weiss chuckled against her neck. "Cause what we just did? Illegal in all 50, I think."
"I don't understand how Dixon and Marshall fit in."
"Dixon's a badass, Marshall's a brainiac. Sloane may push nepotism to the extreme, but maybe sometimes he just hires people 'cause they're good."
"Eric... do you know why Vaughn went rogue?" She watched his face. "You do, don't you?"
"I have an idea," he admitted. "Seriously can't share, though. Best friend confidentiality."
"But if you knew something that would say my crazy theory wasn't so crazy, you'd nod, right now, wouldn't you?"
"Look, Nadia. You're right. The whole inbreeding thing... it's creepy, I'll give you that, but... look, okay. Vaughn's thing... it has nothing to do with your thing."
"You're lying. You're the worst liar ever."
"Okay! It may, tangentially, have a tiny thing to do with your thing. But nothing significant."
She glared. Weiss caved.
"Fine. Fine. You don't mention this to another living soul, okay?"
"You know that I won't."
"Vaughn thinks his dad may be alive. He found this old diary... it had entries in it past the date that Vaughn's dad was supposed to be dead."
Nadia blinked. "Vaughn's father... the one that took me to the orphanage... the one who knows more about my history with my mother than possibly anyone on the planet... is alive, and you didn't think that was significant?"
"Not to your whole freakish Carrie-is-evil theory!"
"Vaughn went rogue to find him? His father?"
"That's my guess. He didn't exactly clear it with me first. And no, before you ask, I haven't had any contact with Vaughn since he took off."
"But Sydney probably has."
"Nadia... I said, not another living soul." Weiss shrugged his shirt on. "And will you lay off Carrie, please?"
"Their child looks nothing like her, Eric." Nadia paged to another tab, and FlinkmanWorld.com appeared on her screen. "Look at these."
"Nadia... I married them, okay? I still have my certificate from the Church of Mammals around here somewhere. She was very pregnant, and very in labor. I mean, if you said the kid wasn't Marshall's, I could maybe go for a ride on that train. But it's very hard to fake a baby popping out of your hoo-hoo. What, you think their baby was switched at birth or something?"
"No. The child obviously looks like Marshall. He just doesn't look like Carrie."
"So he favors his dad. It happens. Me? I look just like my Dad. Freaky clones. Hey, maybe you should start a big conspiracy theory about that."
"You said you weren't going to make fun."
"Of this? I am. Because it's crazy, Nadia. With all the massive wacky we've got going on? You don't need to get sidetracked." Weiss kissed the back of her neck. "Unless it's me doing the sidetracking... which I am very good at..."
"Eric..." Nadia laughed, arching her neck beneath his lips. "You can't just get me off-topic with sex."
"Can I at least try?"
"Oh... I suppose."
--------------------------------------------------
"Interesting book," the man said.
"I'm certainly enjoying it," Vaughn replied smoothly, lowering the novel and handing it over. "It's signed by the author."
The other man opened it, read the flyleaf. "This must be very valuable."
"What do you know about my father?"
"A book like this... you should take better care of it."
"I'm sick of playing games. I got you people what you wanted. What do you know about my father?"
"How much do you know about... Rambaldi?"
Vaughn sighed. "More than I ever wanted to. God, this is a Rambaldi thing?"
"You are aware that there are those who seek to resurrect him."
"Prophecies, crazy people with tattoos, yes -- I'm aware. What does this have to do with my father?"
"Your father went to great lengths to protect the children in the Rambaldi prophecies from being used by Rambaldi's followers. Project Christmas..."
"Whoa-whoa. I thought Project Christmas was a thing where they trained kids to be spies?"
"Making them effective spies was merely a side-effect. Their protection was the ultimate objective. The Project was tested first, of course, on a smaller scale. One child. It proved to be remarkably successful."
"So, what, I need to find this kid?"
"I don't believe Marcus Dixon will be difficult for you to locate, Mr. Vaughn."
"Wait a minute..."
"He is irrelevant. I merely bring him up because you need to understand how large-scale, how integrated into your existence this is."
"Project Christmas had lots of kids in it. Allison Doren. She's not in the prophecies."
"No. She was part of the control group. Gifted, talented children who showed promise were also included. They needed to learn if the children in the prophecy had abilities above and beyond their natural gifts. You were also part of the control group. Your father was afraid you would become a secondary target."
"My name was nowhere on that list."
"How charmingly naive that you assume there was one list, or one project... or that those children were all listed by their real names."
"Marshall. Marshall Flinkman. What about Marshall Flinkman?"
"Never heard of him."
"You're telling me everyone Sloane recruited for SD-6 was part of some super-secret genius project except the biggest genius?"
The man leaned forward, suddenly interested. "Tell me more about Mr. Flinkman."
"Why don't you start telling me something about my father."
"Your father protected all the children in the prophecy, Mr. Vaughn. If you wish to trace his whereabouts after his supposed death, I suggest you trace the whereabouts of those children."
"How am I supposed to do that? You just said the list was incomplete."
"If only you had access to another major player in Project Christmas..."
"Jack Bristow. You mean Jack Bristow, don't you?"
The man smiled. "I doubt you'll find him cooperative. Mr. Bristow goes to... great lengths... to ensure his daughter's safety."
Suddenly, the man rocked backwards, a bloom of red appearing on his chest; he crumpled to the ground.
"He's right, Vaughn," Jack said casually, wiping the silencer with a rag. "I do."
Author: Helga Von Nutwimple
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Property of J.J. Abrams and other people.
Setting: Just after 4x14.
Summary: "It seems like my father likes having all his eggs where he can watch them hatch."
--------------------------------------------------
"Syd. Hey."
"Marshall." Sydney ran her hand through her hair, looked at the clock. "What are you doing here?"
"Yeah, sorry... kinda late, huh? I should totally be getting home, but... Allison Doren."
Every molecule in Sydney's body froze. "What about Allison Doren?"
"Oh, oh, Syd, don't freak, don't freak. She's still dead and stuff. I mean, as far as we know. It's just, the thing is, I was wondering, um, if you had any information about the technology that made her look like Francie? Something more than we have in the computers, 'cause of course I have all that stuff."
"Why?"
"Well, I mean, that -- y'know, the stuff they did to her. It rebuilt her into Francie, right? Rewrote her genetic code?"
"Yes."
"Well, I was thinking, 'cause I do that, y'know, when I'm driving, right? And I was driving home. And thinking. Y'know. What if you took that technology, and you used it on the same person? Like say I injected you or whatever the delivery method is, 'cause hi, our records on that totally blow, but say I injected you with Sydney. So your cells got all -- Sydneyfied."
Sydney sighed. "What would that accomplish?"
"Well, it would cure cancer, for one thing," Marshall chuckled. "Nothing important."
"It would -- what?"
"It'd cure everything, wouldn't it? I mean, basically it'd go through your body rewriting your genetic code with a fresh copy of your own genetic code. Heart disease, gone. Cancer, gone. I mean, if you had something genetic, well, that wouldn't help much, but... do you see what I mean? How huge this is? And I mean, how much like the bad guys is it to have this kind of technology and use it to steal stuff?"
"Why do you have a sudden interest in curing cancer?"
Marshall's eyes widened; he forced out a laugh. "Do I need a reason to want to cure cancer?"
"Marshall, there's something you're not telling me. Are you... sick?"
"Me? Noooo. No. Healthy as a horse. Just... y'know. Driving, and thinking. Like you do."
"I gave all my information on Allison Doren to the CIA. If I know it, you already know it."
Marshall deflated. "Oh. Okay. I was just, y'know. Checking."
"At two a.m."
"Yeah. Sorry, I had a lot of coffee, and I, well, you know me, caffeine -- whoo! So I'm gonna go. But thanks."
Sydney grinned. "Goodnight, Marshall."
"Goodnight, Syd."
--------------------------------------------------
"Marshall was behaving rather oddly this morning," Sloane remarked casually, staring at Jack. "He came babbling into my office wanting to know what I knew about the technology used on Alison Doren."
"Do you think this correlates to Vaughn's activities? Have he and Marshall been in contact?"
"I don't think so. Marshall seemed to believe that the technology used on Alison could be used to cure cancer. He intimated that the process could be modified to rejuvenate a human -- rewrite them with a fresh copy of their genetic code, eliminating all damage done to the bodily systems."
Not a single muscle on Jack's face moved. "That's an interesting hypothesis."
"He must, of course, be prevented from acquiring any more information."
"Yes, a cure for cancer," Jack drawled. "What a horrible catastrophe that would be."
"Jack, you know as well as I do that Marshall uses himself as a guinea pig when he is researching. I don't have to spell out the possible consequences of Marshall examining his own genetic code... or attempting to use such a device on himself."
"I see no reason why Marshall couldn't be provided with 'guinea pigs' when he reaches the human testing stage. The world is full of cancer patients willing to try any cure available."
"How humanitarian of you, Jack. Interesting."
"I see no reason to deny the world a great discovery when our secrecy is so easily maintained."
"Marshall is far from stupid, Jack."
Jack smiled. "You imply that Vaughn and I are not."
"And that known precedent is exactly why we must be more careful than ever."
"He suspects nothing."
"See that it stays that way. These are our families on the line. Nothing... nothing... is more important."
--------------------------------------------------
"So..." Nadia smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "Cured cancer yet?"
"Everybody knows about that, huh?" Marshall rolled down the table, picking up his soldering iron. "Yeah, it got kinda back-burnered. I'm up to my neck in tech requests. I think Sloane wants me to get divorced."
"Carrie isn't too happy about your late nights?"
"She's a sweetheart about it. But, y'know. Mitch can be a little handful -- she could really use my help. Especially since she thinks I work in I.T., y'know? Not quite as convincing an excuse as 'Honey, I'll be late, gotta save the world'."
"Any new pictures?"
"Oh, are you kidding? Always." Marshall thrust a digital camera at Nadia. "Haven't had time to transfer these over yet."
She advanced through the photos. "He's adorable. Is Carrie blonde?"
"Nope, nope. That's right, you never met her. She's awesome. Black hair, though. I wondered about that too, when he arrived, y'know -- Who else have you been having sushi with, honey? -- but turns out, the blonde's all me. Mom says I was blonde at his age. He'll grow out of it."
"How did you meet Carrie?"
"Uh, right after I joined the CIA. The real CIA, I mean, not SD-6. That was a crazy story, did you ever hear that story? It's cool."
Nadia sat down. "No, never. Am I interrupting you?"
"Interrupting? Heck no, I'm multitask man. Anyway, I was back at SD-6, and Syd and I had to go on a mission together. It was my first mission, y'know, but I was very cool. Anyway, after the mission, Syd and I are in separate cars 'cause I'm supposed to be extracted by the CIA, right? Only the CIA doesn't get me, these total creeps do. Tortured me, y'know? So I tell them I'll rewrite their evil software for them, right, only I'm totally stalling them and writing a copy of Pong. It was awesome. I was all 'Ha-ha!' and stuff." He nodded excitedly. "So then Syd had to wait, on the extraction thing. But later, y'know. Okay, that wasn't when I came to the CIA, I just wanted to tell that story 'cause it's badass."
Nadia grinned. "So when did you come to the CIA?"
"Later. It wasn't as cool. I mean, Syd was cool. I didn't really have coolness opportunities at that time. But I came to the CIA, and Carrie got assigned here. She liked Joni Mitchell."
"Love at first sight, huh?"
"Well, uh, kinda. I mean, she asked me out. We had sushi. But I had, y'know, sweating issues. So it really didn't go anywhere. And then, about a year later, she asked me out again. Said she couldn't stop thinking about me." He smirked. "Totally hot for the Flinkman."
"Back when Sydney was gone."
"Yeah, that sucked. I wrote a poem about it. Do you want to hear it? It's called, 'I've Lost My Keys'. Sydney's the keys. It's a metaphor."
"You really missed her."
"Well, yeah! She's Syd. It's like in the poem, y'know, with the keys. You never realize how important keys are until you lose them, y'know? And then, like a million times a day, you're all -- felgercarb, my keys, everything sucks now!"
Nadia bit back a smile. "Sounds like a good metaphor."
"Yeah, it was way better than the first one I wrote, about RAM? I mean, just as essential, but the whole computer doesn't work then so it really didn't go. Also, nothing rhymed."
"Marshall... would you mind if I printed out this one? It's so cute."
Marshall beamed. "Sure, no problem! Just stick the camera in the cradle on that printer over there, do you see it? Yeah, and push the green button. You need a frame? I have extra."
"That's okay. I have one in mind for it." Nadia picked up the printout, grinned. "It'll be nice to have something on my desk a little cuter than security briefings."
"Well, I've got more, if you want 'em. There's this really cute one of him in the bathtub, with his hair in these little shampoo devil-horns? I mean, you could just die."
"Hey, Nadia. You ready for lunch?" Weiss asked, sticking his head through the doorway.
"Definitely." Nadia shot an apologetic look at Marshall. "We'll talk later?"
"Sure, yeah! And I'll read you that poem!"
"Looking forward to it," Nadia grinned.
--------------------------------------------------
Weiss lay on his back on the blanket, staring up at the clouds. "So what's up with the spontaneous picnic? You just feel the need to see the sky, or just couldn't take another day of cafeteria slop?"
"I wanted to show you something," Nadia said, reaching into her handbag. She passed him a photograph.
"Hey, Mitchell Flinkman. Cute kid. Why do you have this?"
"Because I also have this." She passed him another photo.
"Whoa, Irina Derevko. Oh my God, is that a little Nadia? 'Cause I can totally see your nipples."
"I don't know who the child in the picture is. It could be me, or Sydney, or... someone else entirely."
"Your family gets weirder by the day. So why am I looking at cute babies? You tryin' to tell me something? I don't think we have enough time left on our lunch break, but if you're not busy later..."
"Look at the babies," Nadia interrupted. "Really look at them."
"Sorry, Nadia. Dude here. All babies look alike to me."
"Not this much alike."
Weiss sighed. "Okay. Arvin Sloane's your dad, and that would make me paranoid as hell too. But all babies look like Winston Churchill. What are you trying to tell me here... that Carrie's really Elena Derevko?"
"No, no... I thought about it, but she's too young."
"Oh, my God, you're actually being serious about this. Sweetie, I've met Carrie. She's this... she used to cry at her terminal for no reason, okay? She calls Marshall 'pookie bear', for crying out loud."
"Oh? And what did Lauren Reed call Vaughn?"
"Nadia. Seriously. Pa-ra-noid. I'm telling you right now, you could hold Mystery Baby up against any other baby, and you'd see the massive Churchill resemblance. Obviously this picture's bothering you, Marshall happens to spam the office with pictures of his kid..."
"I have seen other babies before, Eric."
"Geez, Nadia, what are you going to do? Offer to babysit the kid and take DNA samples?"
Weiss froze at Nadia's face. "Oh, felgercarb, I was kidding! Kidding!"
--------------------------------------------------
"Carrie... come on!"
"No, Marshall. I'm sorry, but that's final." Carrie reached across the bathtub for the baby wash. "I'm not letting Arvin Sloane's freaky daughter babysit our child. How did you get in contact with Nadia, anyway?"
"I ran into her at the Burger King, we started talking. I've missed the old crew, Carrie. Syd, Vaughn, Dixon, Weiss. Y'know."
"So call them, invite them over for dinner. Do I really have to remind you that you ate eggs with Sark? This is no different."
"It's totally different. Nadia's sweet, Sark's a psychopath. I'd say that's a large difference."
"No, Marshall. Why are you so gung-ho about a babysitter all of a sudden, anyway?"
"Well, I just... I thought... I mean, y'know, I thought we could use a break. Have some..." Marshall dropped his voice. "Y'know... alone time."
Carrie whipped around from the bathtub, furious. "Is that what this is about?"
"Carrie, Carrie... no ightingfay in front of the itchellmay..."
"I'm tired, Marshall. You go off to work and play with servers all day. My job never stops. I'm chasing him around the house, I do all the cleaning, I do all the cooking... I'm tired!"
"Sweetie, I get that, I really do. Hence the babysitter, right? I was thinking we could both use a night off."
"So you can get laid."
"Well, y'know... I kinda thought that came with the whole 'married' package..."
"Oh, did you! Hello, Marshall, I was in labor when we got married. Then I had a kid... I don't know if you've noticed, but that hurts! And then... you know what? You know what? You bathe him."
"Carrie... Carrie, I didn't mean..."
"You are such a... such a man! I can't even look at you right now."
The bathroom door slammed, and Marshall sighed, leaning over the bathtub to rinse out Mitchell's hair.
"It's okay, Mitch. Mommy and Daddy aren't really mad at each other. And don't... don't get the wrong idea from that, okay? Women are to be respected, and not to be used as sexual objects." Marshall sighed, pouring water over Mitchell's hair. "No matter how insanely long it's been."
--------------------------------------------------
Vaughn's lips trailed down her stomach, lingering at her bellybutton. Sydney giggled.
Vaughn grinned. "Not the reaction I was going for."
"Sorry. Ticklish."
He moved to the scar at her hip, pressed his lips against it.
"Vaughn... not there."
He propped himself up on an elbow. "You know, if you want me to go straight for the gold..."
"It's not that. It's just... not there."
His brow furrowed. "Does it hurt?"
"No. No, it's just... I don't like to think about it. And it's hard, y'know, not to think about it, when Michael Vaughn, Sex God, has his Sex God lips on it."
"Well, you certainly know how to kiss my ego all better."
"It's nothing against you. It's just... a reminder. Of everything they took from me. And that sends my mind into bad places..."
Vaughn grimaced. "Yeah, I can imagine. That's mental space I like to avoid myself."
"I've totally ruined the moment, haven't I?"
"Eh... you want some toast?"
"I take that as a yes."
"Well, you know what they say about the aphrodisiac properties of toast..."
She laughed. "Vaughn, there are no aphrodisiac properties of toast."
"Yeah, well." He rolled to the edge of the bed, picked up the phone. "When we're done? There's gonna be a nationwide bread shortage."
She cocked an eyebrow playfully. "What about jelly?"
"Mmm, sure, we can use that too. What flavor should I have room service send up?"
"Maybe room service isn't the best idea," Sydney frowned.
Vaughn hung up the phone. "Do you think you were tracked coming here?"
"I don't think so. But I work for Arvin Sloane. So..."
"Marshall scanned you for bugs, right?"
"Yeah, but... I mean, I could hardly bring in the sexy underwear and have him scan it without raising suspicions."
"And his blood pressure."
"Aw, c'mon. Marshall's so over his crush on me."
"I think at this point, Marshall could get excited by a particularly curvy spoon."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, he hasn't come out and said anything... but he's made some comments. I kinda get the impression that saying 'I Do' gave Carrie a permanent headache."
"Well, that sucks."
Vaughn shrugged. "Hormones, I guess. She was all over him before."
"That's hard to imagine." Sydney blushed. "I mean, not that he's unattractive or anything. He's just... Marshall."
"Remind me again why we're talking about Marshall Flinkman when you're wearing the sexy underwear?"
Sydney grinned as he climbed across the bed. "What about the toast?"
"Screw the toast," Vaughn growled.
--------------------------------------------------
"Hey, Nadia, have you seen my..." Weiss paused, shirt in hand, staring at the screen of her laptop. "Oh Nadia, geez."
"I'm just curious," Nadia protested, moving the mouse to scroll through Carrie's personnel file.
"You're not curious, you're obsessed. You're cute when you're curious. You're still cute when you're obsessed, but kinda scary too. I prefer the straight cute, it makes me worry less that you're gonna get shot again."
"Eric, look. There is something about that picture, okay? When I showed it to Jack, he got all... weird."
"Oh, how could you tell? Eyebrow went up a tenth of a millimeter?"
"Don't make fun." Nadia turned back to her screen, pouting slightly.
"I'm not making fun. It's just... Jack would have a million reasons to get weird over that photograph. I mean, no offense, but your Mom? Not really winning any wife-of-the-year awards."
Nadia's lips compressed. "I'm aware of that."
"She cheated on him with Sloane. His best friend. I mean... I wouldn't be dancing a jig if I found out you were doin' it with Vaughn." Weiss slid his hands around her waist, kissed her neck. "You're not doin' it with Vaughn, are you? I know he's got the whole chiseled thing, but..."
Nadia laughed. "I think Sydney has 'doin' it with Vaughn' completely taken care of. It's just... don't you think it's weird? I mean, my and Sydney's mother killed Vaughn's father, after he took me to the orphanage. Me, Sydney, Vaughn, all interrelated. It shouldn't happen, not by chance alone... and then he was randomly assigned to be her handler? My father recruited Sydney into SD-6, knowing Jack didn't want her there. It seems like... it seems like my father likes having all his eggs where he can watch them hatch."
"Well, we'd better not be related," Weiss chuckled against her neck. "Cause what we just did? Illegal in all 50, I think."
"I don't understand how Dixon and Marshall fit in."
"Dixon's a badass, Marshall's a brainiac. Sloane may push nepotism to the extreme, but maybe sometimes he just hires people 'cause they're good."
"Eric... do you know why Vaughn went rogue?" She watched his face. "You do, don't you?"
"I have an idea," he admitted. "Seriously can't share, though. Best friend confidentiality."
"But if you knew something that would say my crazy theory wasn't so crazy, you'd nod, right now, wouldn't you?"
"Look, Nadia. You're right. The whole inbreeding thing... it's creepy, I'll give you that, but... look, okay. Vaughn's thing... it has nothing to do with your thing."
"You're lying. You're the worst liar ever."
"Okay! It may, tangentially, have a tiny thing to do with your thing. But nothing significant."
She glared. Weiss caved.
"Fine. Fine. You don't mention this to another living soul, okay?"
"You know that I won't."
"Vaughn thinks his dad may be alive. He found this old diary... it had entries in it past the date that Vaughn's dad was supposed to be dead."
Nadia blinked. "Vaughn's father... the one that took me to the orphanage... the one who knows more about my history with my mother than possibly anyone on the planet... is alive, and you didn't think that was significant?"
"Not to your whole freakish Carrie-is-evil theory!"
"Vaughn went rogue to find him? His father?"
"That's my guess. He didn't exactly clear it with me first. And no, before you ask, I haven't had any contact with Vaughn since he took off."
"But Sydney probably has."
"Nadia... I said, not another living soul." Weiss shrugged his shirt on. "And will you lay off Carrie, please?"
"Their child looks nothing like her, Eric." Nadia paged to another tab, and FlinkmanWorld.com appeared on her screen. "Look at these."
"Nadia... I married them, okay? I still have my certificate from the Church of Mammals around here somewhere. She was very pregnant, and very in labor. I mean, if you said the kid wasn't Marshall's, I could maybe go for a ride on that train. But it's very hard to fake a baby popping out of your hoo-hoo. What, you think their baby was switched at birth or something?"
"No. The child obviously looks like Marshall. He just doesn't look like Carrie."
"So he favors his dad. It happens. Me? I look just like my Dad. Freaky clones. Hey, maybe you should start a big conspiracy theory about that."
"You said you weren't going to make fun."
"Of this? I am. Because it's crazy, Nadia. With all the massive wacky we've got going on? You don't need to get sidetracked." Weiss kissed the back of her neck. "Unless it's me doing the sidetracking... which I am very good at..."
"Eric..." Nadia laughed, arching her neck beneath his lips. "You can't just get me off-topic with sex."
"Can I at least try?"
"Oh... I suppose."
--------------------------------------------------
"Interesting book," the man said.
"I'm certainly enjoying it," Vaughn replied smoothly, lowering the novel and handing it over. "It's signed by the author."
The other man opened it, read the flyleaf. "This must be very valuable."
"What do you know about my father?"
"A book like this... you should take better care of it."
"I'm sick of playing games. I got you people what you wanted. What do you know about my father?"
"How much do you know about... Rambaldi?"
Vaughn sighed. "More than I ever wanted to. God, this is a Rambaldi thing?"
"You are aware that there are those who seek to resurrect him."
"Prophecies, crazy people with tattoos, yes -- I'm aware. What does this have to do with my father?"
"Your father went to great lengths to protect the children in the Rambaldi prophecies from being used by Rambaldi's followers. Project Christmas..."
"Whoa-whoa. I thought Project Christmas was a thing where they trained kids to be spies?"
"Making them effective spies was merely a side-effect. Their protection was the ultimate objective. The Project was tested first, of course, on a smaller scale. One child. It proved to be remarkably successful."
"So, what, I need to find this kid?"
"I don't believe Marcus Dixon will be difficult for you to locate, Mr. Vaughn."
"Wait a minute..."
"He is irrelevant. I merely bring him up because you need to understand how large-scale, how integrated into your existence this is."
"Project Christmas had lots of kids in it. Allison Doren. She's not in the prophecies."
"No. She was part of the control group. Gifted, talented children who showed promise were also included. They needed to learn if the children in the prophecy had abilities above and beyond their natural gifts. You were also part of the control group. Your father was afraid you would become a secondary target."
"My name was nowhere on that list."
"How charmingly naive that you assume there was one list, or one project... or that those children were all listed by their real names."
"Marshall. Marshall Flinkman. What about Marshall Flinkman?"
"Never heard of him."
"You're telling me everyone Sloane recruited for SD-6 was part of some super-secret genius project except the biggest genius?"
The man leaned forward, suddenly interested. "Tell me more about Mr. Flinkman."
"Why don't you start telling me something about my father."
"Your father protected all the children in the prophecy, Mr. Vaughn. If you wish to trace his whereabouts after his supposed death, I suggest you trace the whereabouts of those children."
"How am I supposed to do that? You just said the list was incomplete."
"If only you had access to another major player in Project Christmas..."
"Jack Bristow. You mean Jack Bristow, don't you?"
The man smiled. "I doubt you'll find him cooperative. Mr. Bristow goes to... great lengths... to ensure his daughter's safety."
Suddenly, the man rocked backwards, a bloom of red appearing on his chest; he crumpled to the ground.
"He's right, Vaughn," Jack said casually, wiping the silencer with a rag. "I do."