Frogboy_Lives
Stabbifies When Cranky
~Disclaimer~
I do not own anything that appears in this fic apart from a couple of OCs and Marshall gadgets. Alias and all related characters, situaions etc are property of JJ Abrams
A/N- this is a work in progress, i know where i'm going with this, it'll just take a while to get there. All forms of feedback are welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is grown he will not depart from it. -Proverbs 22:6
Prologue
T minus three…
To the outside observer the building was an imposing edifice of marble and glass, older than most of those who worked in and around it. The interior, however, was much the same as any modern office block of the twenty-first century. Fluorescent fixtures lit white-washed walls and computer cabling was trailed behind desks and along cubicle walls.
It was the mainframe these cables were attached to that was the object of the girl’s attention. With practiced skill, she stripped several wires of their brightly coloured plastic and spliced them into the PDA she carried.
“I’m in. You copy, Pretty Boy?”
T minus two…
“Copy, Foxy Lady.” The young man sitting in a van across from the rear entrance answered. “Took you long enough.”
~# I was trying to be discreet. # ~
The blonde’s lips quirked at the girls mock-acerbic reply. “I’m setting up the by-pass now. Team Beta is in position and will be ready to cut the power in three, two”
T minus one…
~# -one. #~ The dim lights of the mainframe died. ~# Emergency power will come on in fifty seconds. #~
“Copy, Pretty Boy” Exiting the darkened room, the girl was headed at a fast walk towards the target.
~# Once emergency power comes online; our by-pass will give you a three minute window. After that full power will be restored and the security system will reset. You must be out by the time full power is restored. #~
“Or I get up close and personal with the security forces. I copy-”
T minus zero…
~# -Mother Hen. #~
“Please stick with the given code-names, Foxy Lady.” The blond man’s voice betrayed a hint of irritated affection.
“Are you at the target?”
~# Affirmative. Coast is clear. I should be finished well before the window’s up. #~
T plus one
~# Just be careful, I would not like to be me if something happens to you. #~
The girl chuckled as she knelt before the safe “Pretty Boy, are you scared of my…”
~# Uh-oh. #~
“Uh-Oh? What’s uh-oh?”
~#Mains power has just been restored. Security forces have been alerted to your presence and are enroute to your position. They’ll be there in just under two minutes#~
“Well that gives me at least minute.” The girl resumed cracking the safe.
~# Negative! Abort now! #~
“I’m more than halfway through, if we abort now we are not going to get a second chance.”
~#Are you-
T plus two…
“-insane?!” The blonde practically screamed into the comm.
~#Not according to my last pysch evaluation. Just be ready to evac.#~
T plus three…
“Stop her!” came the security guard’s hoarse yell, punctuated by bursts of gunfire.
“Sorry boys, but my ride’s here.” The girl sprinted across the tarmac. As she neared the already rolling van the door slid open and the blond man pulled her inside.
“You are crazy, you know.” He declared as the van sped towards the pick-up zone.
Panting the girl dangled the amulet taken from the safe. “Maybe, but I’m also the best, Pretty Boy.”
“Ops over now, no need for code-names.” Grinned Julian Sark to his team-mate, Sydney Derevko.
Chapter One
Meetings
Los Angles
October 16th 1981, Police are investigating yesterday’s car crash, which left three people dead. Whilst details are sketchy at this stage, it appears that the first car, driven by an as yet unidentified man, lost traction, clipped a second car, carrying local woman Laura Bristow and her young daughter Sydney, causing both cars to plough through safety barriers and plunge into the swollen river.
“‘Police are yet to recover the bodies of Mrs Bristow or her daughter.’” Eric Weiss read over his friend’s shoulder. “Michael, while I know we get a bit out of the loop here, I think you should know that paper’s nearly twenty years old.”
“Thanks, Eric, I hadn’t noticed.” Michael Vaughn mock-glowered at Weiss, as the dark-haired agent randomly picked up a thick sheaf of paper before sitting across from him. “It’s from those files Devlin send down this morning.”
“But what has a fifteen, sixteen-year-old car crash got to do with SD-6? Hang on a minute,” Weiss looked up from his folder. “Bristow…as in Jack Bristow?”
“As in Agent Jonathan ‘Jack’ Bristow; our main asset on the Alliance and only double-agent at SD-6?” Vaughn leaned back in his chair, “Yep.”
“He doesn’t need another handler?” At Vaughn’s weary nod, Weiss continued, “That’s what, three this month?”
“And seven since his old handler retired. Apparently he sent back Lambert with the message, ‘I don’t care who you assign me, so long as they have the understanding God gave a goldfish.’”
“So who’s the poor bastard they’ve assigned this time?”
Vaughn scrubbed his face with his palms. “You’re looking at him.”
“Oh, you poor bastard. When does the torture start?”
“This afternoon, the details of the meet came with the news.”
“So I’ll see you right back here tomorrow morning, then?”
Chuckling, Weiss ducked as Vaughn threw a case file at him.
~~~
Minsk
“Once we retrieved the target, we proceeded to the pick-up zone and, taking the usual precautions, returned here as soon as possible.” Standing, feet wide apart, hands clasped at the small of her back, Sydney finished her report. “The amulet is still in analysis, but the tentative conclusion is that it is a genuine Rambaldi artifact.”
“So all in all, a completely successful operation, you would say.” Irina Derevko, formerly known as Laura Bristow, currently as ‘The Man’, stated as she perused the mission debrief in front of her on the glass table-top.
“So it would seem, yes.”
“Except for the matter of the security guards.” Alexander Khasinau ground out from his position behind Irina’s left shoulder, glaring at the pair standing before Irina’s desk.
“None of whom got a good look at Sydney.” Replied Sark coolly in his lightly clipped accent “And who wouldn’t have even known she was there if intelligence had informed us of the new mains connections which cut our operational window down to a third of its supposed size.”
“You should have aborted as soon as you became aware of the guards,” Khasinau growled. “The cost of a second operation is far more prefer-”
“They still would have known someone had penetrated the building, they would have discovered the flaw in their system that enabled us to do so and come up with a way to compensate for it.” Sydney shot back. “By the time we set up an alternate plan, the target most likely would have been moved to a more secure location. We were not going to get a second chance.”
“It’s far too early for the organization to become exposed.”
“Alexander, that’s enough.” Although Irina had barely raised her voice, the effect was comparable to her firing a shotgun. “What’s done is done. Sark, how far is the follow up from completion?”
“All of the men we brought in have reported back to their bases. Our man inside has ensured that any security records have been taken care of. Any outside resources have been compensated and convinced that we were part of another organization.”
“Excellent work.” Neatly organising the papers in the folder, Irina handed the file to Khasinau. “Alexander, Sark, you’re dismissed. Stay a while Sydney.”
With murmured acknowledgments the gaunt Russian and lithe Brit left the elegant office, leaving the Derevko women alone.
~~~
“It’s okay Michael, it’s just a first meeting, not like he’s gonna do any thing to you.” Vaughn murmured to himself as he strode up the granite path. “Who am I kidding, it’s in a cemetery, nothing good can come of this. Okaay, its row forty, plot seven, so that would be Bristow there.”
Although the younger agent made very little noise as he approached the saturnine figure, Bristow inclined his head slightly as Vaughn passed. Several minutes passed in silence as the pair stood unmoving. It was Bristow who broke the stillness.
“Are the flowers for me, or were you actually planning on blending in?” Came the terse query.
“Oh, they’re for my Aunt…” Vaughn glanced at the headstone he stood in front of. “…Greg.”
“I see I was doing the goldfish a disservice when I assumed that CIA officers shared their level of intelligence.”
“Look, I got this assignment less than three hours ago, I think Devlin was afraid I’d skip the country if I had any longer
to consider it. So you’ll forgive me if my cover’s missing a few small details.” Vaughn snapped back.
“You have a bit more backbone than the others, that’s good. Jack Bristow.”
“Michael Vaughn.”
“You’re William Vaughn’s son, aren’t you?” It was a statement not a question. “He was a good man, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
“From what I’ve read neither did you.” Vaughn replied softly, nodding at the dual graves before Bristow.
“Their bodies were never found. All those graves hold are memories and empty caskets.” Bristow paused momentarily, “I remember, that throughout the service I was wondering whether actually putting my wife and child in the ground and knowing, would have been better than not finding them and always asking ‘what if?’.”
~~~
“I would have done the same thing.”
“Huh.”
Irina smiled at her daughter, “Ignoring Sark’s abort order. I do actually read mission transcripts occasionally. Now sit down and stop looking like you’re going to your mother’s funeral.”
“I do not.” The younger woman muttered as she sat in the leather seat Irina gestured to.
“Yes, you do. Every time I ask you to stay after a debrief you look as if the world’s about to end and it’s all your fault. Your father had exactly the same look.” The smile turned bittersweet. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I see him staring back at me.”
Sydney suddenly found her hands to be of great interest.
“Now, as to why I asked you to stay.” Reaching into the attaché by her side, Irina retrieved a thick dossier and slid it across the table. “Happy birthday, Sydney.”
“A new mission?” Sydney responded dubiously “Interesting present, Mom.”
“It’s one of the more difficult you’ll face, but I think you’re up the challenge.”
Irina watched with a small grin while Sydney examined the contents of the dossier, her expression going from curious, to puzzled, to incredulous, to delighted.
“Mom, these are university prospectuses, for every school I’ve been interested in.”
“And a few you haven’t. You’d have to pass the application process and do the actual work on your own, of course, but anything you need taken care by way of identification, documentation, pointless bureaucracy.”
“But what about the organization? I mean what if you need me for an op.”
“Sydney, the organization will not fall apart while you get an education. Now, go, read those and we’ll talk more over dinner. Although you’re so like your father, you’ll probably have your application half finished by then.”
Sydney paused in the doorway, “Mom, would Dad, do you think…”
“That he’d have been proud of you? I know, that if could see you right now, he would be, exceedingly so.” Irina returned her daughter’s radiant smile she left the office. As she heard Sydney’s footsteps echo down the corridor, Irina leant back in her chair and steepled her hands under her chin. Speaking to the silence she added “What he’d think of me, however, is an entirely different story.”
Chapter Two
Settling In
Los Angeles
“So that concludes this year’s course overview. Moving on, there will be a series of campus orientations later this afternoon, those students who are new to UCLA this semester, I strongly suggest you take one, two if necessary. Last year alone, fifteen freshmen were lost, never to be heard from again.” The graying professor’s clear baritone carried easily over the scrape of chairs, shuffling of papers and soft chuckles that filled the spacious lecture theatre. “And I believe that’s all from me, class dismissed.”
The noise level of the room suddenly swelled to deafening levels, as four hundred odd students resumed previous conversations and started new ones. One of those students was Sydney Derevko, or as her current alias had it, Sydney Jenkins, just one of many new students with nothing more than a doctored life history to distinguish her from the crowd.
Pausing a moment at the foot of the steps, waiting for the flow of students leaving the lecture theatre to slacken enough that she could exit herself, Sydney shifted her books from left arm to right and absent-mindedly tucked one of her long bangs behind her left ear. The unconscious gesture reminded her of her mother and her curious initial reaction to Sydney’s choice.
~~~
“University of California? Interesting choice, do you have any particular reason for it?” To anyone who didn’t know her, Irina would have sounded merely curious, one who knew her well, however, would have detected the dubious note in her voice.
“They’re supposed to have some of the finest literature professors currently teaching. You think it’s a bad choice?” Not that she was going to change her mind, but it never hurt to have her mother’s approval.
“No, no, they do or at least did have. Just curious I guess.” Indirectly changing the subject Irina continued, “Have you thought about scholarships, and the like? Things that are going to affect your cover.”
~~~
Several months later, entering at a second year level instead of first and the recipient of a full scholarship, Sydney might have suspected the hand of her mother at work, but for the fact that academic achievement was one of the few things Irina Derevko held sacrosanct.
However, amongst all the careful preparations, construction of back-story, creation of identification and falsifying of documents, there was one thing that had been overlooked.
Accommodation.
By the time the necessary arrangements had been made to enable Sydney to enter college life without suspicion, there hadn’t actually been any dorms left on-campus and most of the available apartments and room within a reasonable distance, were either out of ‘Sydney Jenkins’ price range or available for very good reasons. This meant that Sydney had been living in one of the organization’s safe houses for the past month, an arrangement that could not continue indefinitely, for the sakes of both organizational security and Sydney’s sanity. As she contemplated this a bright yellow sign caught Sydney’s eye.
~~~
“Where is it?”
“She’s got it!”
“No, he has!”
“Get him!”
“LOOK OUT!!”
So intent was the ebony-skinned woman on tackling her quarry, equally intent on evading her, that neither of them noticed Sydney until all three went down in a tangle on limbs.
“Great way to watch where you’re going.” The woman commented as she disentangled herself from the pile, flashing an apologetic grin at Sydney. “Sorry about that.”
“And I noticed that you did such a better job,” was the pointed response from her scruffy blonde companion. “Here let me help.”
Accepting the bespectacled young man’s hand Sydney rose gracefully. “No problem, but what were you doing?”
“Playing Frisbee.” The blonde replied as he retrieved the fluorescent green disc, flipping it between his fingers. “Oh, I’m Will, by the way, and this is Francie.”
“Sydney.” A look of bemusement crossed her face. “Frisbee? I thought that was non-contact, especially for bystanders.”
“It is, unless you’re playing with Australians.” Francie deadpanned, gesturing at the large group of students playing on the grass. “Nuts the lot of them, they don’t think it’s a sport unless you tackle.”
“Hey, we heard that!”
“If you three are just gonna talk, d’ya at least think you could chuck us back the Frisbee.”
Expertly tossing the disc underhand, Will turned back to Sydney and Francie. “Hey, Syd, you want to join in? It’s really quite fun, once you get past the incredible violence.”
~~~
“Four months, it’s now officially over.” Weiss leaned back in his chair and stretched as he said this.
“What’s over?” Vaughn asked absent-mindedly as he went over the latest reports from counter-intelligence.
“The Bristow Handler pool.”
“The what?” Vaughn’s voice rose incredulously. “You were running a pool on me?”
“No I was not running a pool on you.” Weiss corrected. “I was running two. How long you lasted and who was next in the firing line.”
Deciding actual bullets would be juvenile, Vaughn settled for shooting his friend a dirty look. “And just who won these pools, Eric.”
“Well, nobody thought you’d last this long, so I guess you did.” With that he passed a large bottle across the desk to Vaughn. “Here’s your prize.”
“Ulcer medication?”
“After dealing with Agent Bristow for four months, office consensus was you’d need it. Besides, you never know when someone’s going to slip rattler venom in your coffee.”
“I’m not even going to ask where that one came from.”
“Yeah, that’s usually the best policy. So,” Drawing out the last syllable, Weiss abruptly leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, propping his chin on his interlaced fingers he looked the other agent in the eyes. “Michael, what’s it like, really?”
“Rattle snake venom? Can’t say I’d be in a position to know.”
Rolling his eyes heavenward at Vaughn’s deliberate obtuseness, Weiss clarified, “Working with Bristow. You should hear half the stories floating around here. Is it true he keeps the severed fingers of his enemies on his bookshelf?”
“No, they’re in his liquor cabinet, right next to the peppermint schnapps.”
“Really?”
“Of course not.” Vaughn slumped back in disbelief. “Eric, even if he did a third of the things they say he does, how would I know?”
“You are his handler.”
“That doesn’t make us drinking buddies, or even confidants. Eric, Jack is very… standoffish, to put it mildly.”
~~~
“And to put it bluntly, he’s a jerk!” Francie paused in the middle of her tirade to fling the Frisbee in the direction of the ‘goalposts’, actually two stacks of textbooks. “Cheating on me was bad enough, but with my flatmate?”
“What happened next?” The rather anarchic game purporting to be Frisbee turned out to be as much for socialising as anything else, and to be honest with herself, Sydney was genuinely intrigued by the unfolding saga of Francie’s ex-boyfriend and -flatmate.
“Chucks him out his ear, she does, her slag of a roomie too.” One of the other team’s players, a lanky brunette who gestured violently as she spoke, answered in tones of marked admiration. “You should’ve seen it, clothes everywhere, Francie here, quite justifiably mind you, screeching like a banshee. Fan-bloody-tastic.”
“Well, entertainment value aside, it still leaves me with a two-person rent and a one-person income.” Ducking after a particularly low throw, she continued “In the middle of the worst part of the year to be looking for a new flatmate too, just to make things that little bit more difficult.”
Sydney skidded to a halt as she remembered why she’d been over this side of the campus in the first place. “Wait a moment, you wouldn’t be the ‘F. Calfo’ who stuck up all those ‘room for rent’ signs, would you?”
“Last time I looked I was. You’re interested in the room?”
I do not own anything that appears in this fic apart from a couple of OCs and Marshall gadgets. Alias and all related characters, situaions etc are property of JJ Abrams
A/N- this is a work in progress, i know where i'm going with this, it'll just take a while to get there. All forms of feedback are welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is grown he will not depart from it. -Proverbs 22:6
Prologue
T minus three…
To the outside observer the building was an imposing edifice of marble and glass, older than most of those who worked in and around it. The interior, however, was much the same as any modern office block of the twenty-first century. Fluorescent fixtures lit white-washed walls and computer cabling was trailed behind desks and along cubicle walls.
It was the mainframe these cables were attached to that was the object of the girl’s attention. With practiced skill, she stripped several wires of their brightly coloured plastic and spliced them into the PDA she carried.
“I’m in. You copy, Pretty Boy?”
T minus two…
“Copy, Foxy Lady.” The young man sitting in a van across from the rear entrance answered. “Took you long enough.”
~# I was trying to be discreet. # ~
The blonde’s lips quirked at the girls mock-acerbic reply. “I’m setting up the by-pass now. Team Beta is in position and will be ready to cut the power in three, two”
T minus one…
~# -one. #~ The dim lights of the mainframe died. ~# Emergency power will come on in fifty seconds. #~
“Copy, Pretty Boy” Exiting the darkened room, the girl was headed at a fast walk towards the target.
~# Once emergency power comes online; our by-pass will give you a three minute window. After that full power will be restored and the security system will reset. You must be out by the time full power is restored. #~
“Or I get up close and personal with the security forces. I copy-”
T minus zero…
~# -Mother Hen. #~
“Please stick with the given code-names, Foxy Lady.” The blond man’s voice betrayed a hint of irritated affection.
“Are you at the target?”
~# Affirmative. Coast is clear. I should be finished well before the window’s up. #~
T plus one
~# Just be careful, I would not like to be me if something happens to you. #~
The girl chuckled as she knelt before the safe “Pretty Boy, are you scared of my…”
~# Uh-oh. #~
“Uh-Oh? What’s uh-oh?”
~#Mains power has just been restored. Security forces have been alerted to your presence and are enroute to your position. They’ll be there in just under two minutes#~
“Well that gives me at least minute.” The girl resumed cracking the safe.
~# Negative! Abort now! #~
“I’m more than halfway through, if we abort now we are not going to get a second chance.”
~#Are you-
T plus two…
“-insane?!” The blonde practically screamed into the comm.
~#Not according to my last pysch evaluation. Just be ready to evac.#~
T plus three…
“Stop her!” came the security guard’s hoarse yell, punctuated by bursts of gunfire.
“Sorry boys, but my ride’s here.” The girl sprinted across the tarmac. As she neared the already rolling van the door slid open and the blond man pulled her inside.
“You are crazy, you know.” He declared as the van sped towards the pick-up zone.
Panting the girl dangled the amulet taken from the safe. “Maybe, but I’m also the best, Pretty Boy.”
“Ops over now, no need for code-names.” Grinned Julian Sark to his team-mate, Sydney Derevko.
Chapter One
Meetings
Los Angles
October 16th 1981, Police are investigating yesterday’s car crash, which left three people dead. Whilst details are sketchy at this stage, it appears that the first car, driven by an as yet unidentified man, lost traction, clipped a second car, carrying local woman Laura Bristow and her young daughter Sydney, causing both cars to plough through safety barriers and plunge into the swollen river.
“‘Police are yet to recover the bodies of Mrs Bristow or her daughter.’” Eric Weiss read over his friend’s shoulder. “Michael, while I know we get a bit out of the loop here, I think you should know that paper’s nearly twenty years old.”
“Thanks, Eric, I hadn’t noticed.” Michael Vaughn mock-glowered at Weiss, as the dark-haired agent randomly picked up a thick sheaf of paper before sitting across from him. “It’s from those files Devlin send down this morning.”
“But what has a fifteen, sixteen-year-old car crash got to do with SD-6? Hang on a minute,” Weiss looked up from his folder. “Bristow…as in Jack Bristow?”
“As in Agent Jonathan ‘Jack’ Bristow; our main asset on the Alliance and only double-agent at SD-6?” Vaughn leaned back in his chair, “Yep.”
“He doesn’t need another handler?” At Vaughn’s weary nod, Weiss continued, “That’s what, three this month?”
“And seven since his old handler retired. Apparently he sent back Lambert with the message, ‘I don’t care who you assign me, so long as they have the understanding God gave a goldfish.’”
“So who’s the poor bastard they’ve assigned this time?”
Vaughn scrubbed his face with his palms. “You’re looking at him.”
“Oh, you poor bastard. When does the torture start?”
“This afternoon, the details of the meet came with the news.”
“So I’ll see you right back here tomorrow morning, then?”
Chuckling, Weiss ducked as Vaughn threw a case file at him.
~~~
Minsk
“Once we retrieved the target, we proceeded to the pick-up zone and, taking the usual precautions, returned here as soon as possible.” Standing, feet wide apart, hands clasped at the small of her back, Sydney finished her report. “The amulet is still in analysis, but the tentative conclusion is that it is a genuine Rambaldi artifact.”
“So all in all, a completely successful operation, you would say.” Irina Derevko, formerly known as Laura Bristow, currently as ‘The Man’, stated as she perused the mission debrief in front of her on the glass table-top.
“So it would seem, yes.”
“Except for the matter of the security guards.” Alexander Khasinau ground out from his position behind Irina’s left shoulder, glaring at the pair standing before Irina’s desk.
“None of whom got a good look at Sydney.” Replied Sark coolly in his lightly clipped accent “And who wouldn’t have even known she was there if intelligence had informed us of the new mains connections which cut our operational window down to a third of its supposed size.”
“You should have aborted as soon as you became aware of the guards,” Khasinau growled. “The cost of a second operation is far more prefer-”
“They still would have known someone had penetrated the building, they would have discovered the flaw in their system that enabled us to do so and come up with a way to compensate for it.” Sydney shot back. “By the time we set up an alternate plan, the target most likely would have been moved to a more secure location. We were not going to get a second chance.”
“It’s far too early for the organization to become exposed.”
“Alexander, that’s enough.” Although Irina had barely raised her voice, the effect was comparable to her firing a shotgun. “What’s done is done. Sark, how far is the follow up from completion?”
“All of the men we brought in have reported back to their bases. Our man inside has ensured that any security records have been taken care of. Any outside resources have been compensated and convinced that we were part of another organization.”
“Excellent work.” Neatly organising the papers in the folder, Irina handed the file to Khasinau. “Alexander, Sark, you’re dismissed. Stay a while Sydney.”
With murmured acknowledgments the gaunt Russian and lithe Brit left the elegant office, leaving the Derevko women alone.
~~~
“It’s okay Michael, it’s just a first meeting, not like he’s gonna do any thing to you.” Vaughn murmured to himself as he strode up the granite path. “Who am I kidding, it’s in a cemetery, nothing good can come of this. Okaay, its row forty, plot seven, so that would be Bristow there.”
Although the younger agent made very little noise as he approached the saturnine figure, Bristow inclined his head slightly as Vaughn passed. Several minutes passed in silence as the pair stood unmoving. It was Bristow who broke the stillness.
“Are the flowers for me, or were you actually planning on blending in?” Came the terse query.
“Oh, they’re for my Aunt…” Vaughn glanced at the headstone he stood in front of. “…Greg.”
“I see I was doing the goldfish a disservice when I assumed that CIA officers shared their level of intelligence.”
“Look, I got this assignment less than three hours ago, I think Devlin was afraid I’d skip the country if I had any longer
to consider it. So you’ll forgive me if my cover’s missing a few small details.” Vaughn snapped back.
“You have a bit more backbone than the others, that’s good. Jack Bristow.”
“Michael Vaughn.”
“You’re William Vaughn’s son, aren’t you?” It was a statement not a question. “He was a good man, didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
“From what I’ve read neither did you.” Vaughn replied softly, nodding at the dual graves before Bristow.
“Their bodies were never found. All those graves hold are memories and empty caskets.” Bristow paused momentarily, “I remember, that throughout the service I was wondering whether actually putting my wife and child in the ground and knowing, would have been better than not finding them and always asking ‘what if?’.”
~~~
“I would have done the same thing.”
“Huh.”
Irina smiled at her daughter, “Ignoring Sark’s abort order. I do actually read mission transcripts occasionally. Now sit down and stop looking like you’re going to your mother’s funeral.”
“I do not.” The younger woman muttered as she sat in the leather seat Irina gestured to.
“Yes, you do. Every time I ask you to stay after a debrief you look as if the world’s about to end and it’s all your fault. Your father had exactly the same look.” The smile turned bittersweet. “Sometimes, when I look at you, I see him staring back at me.”
Sydney suddenly found her hands to be of great interest.
“Now, as to why I asked you to stay.” Reaching into the attaché by her side, Irina retrieved a thick dossier and slid it across the table. “Happy birthday, Sydney.”
“A new mission?” Sydney responded dubiously “Interesting present, Mom.”
“It’s one of the more difficult you’ll face, but I think you’re up the challenge.”
Irina watched with a small grin while Sydney examined the contents of the dossier, her expression going from curious, to puzzled, to incredulous, to delighted.
“Mom, these are university prospectuses, for every school I’ve been interested in.”
“And a few you haven’t. You’d have to pass the application process and do the actual work on your own, of course, but anything you need taken care by way of identification, documentation, pointless bureaucracy.”
“But what about the organization? I mean what if you need me for an op.”
“Sydney, the organization will not fall apart while you get an education. Now, go, read those and we’ll talk more over dinner. Although you’re so like your father, you’ll probably have your application half finished by then.”
Sydney paused in the doorway, “Mom, would Dad, do you think…”
“That he’d have been proud of you? I know, that if could see you right now, he would be, exceedingly so.” Irina returned her daughter’s radiant smile she left the office. As she heard Sydney’s footsteps echo down the corridor, Irina leant back in her chair and steepled her hands under her chin. Speaking to the silence she added “What he’d think of me, however, is an entirely different story.”
Chapter Two
Settling In
Los Angeles
“So that concludes this year’s course overview. Moving on, there will be a series of campus orientations later this afternoon, those students who are new to UCLA this semester, I strongly suggest you take one, two if necessary. Last year alone, fifteen freshmen were lost, never to be heard from again.” The graying professor’s clear baritone carried easily over the scrape of chairs, shuffling of papers and soft chuckles that filled the spacious lecture theatre. “And I believe that’s all from me, class dismissed.”
The noise level of the room suddenly swelled to deafening levels, as four hundred odd students resumed previous conversations and started new ones. One of those students was Sydney Derevko, or as her current alias had it, Sydney Jenkins, just one of many new students with nothing more than a doctored life history to distinguish her from the crowd.
Pausing a moment at the foot of the steps, waiting for the flow of students leaving the lecture theatre to slacken enough that she could exit herself, Sydney shifted her books from left arm to right and absent-mindedly tucked one of her long bangs behind her left ear. The unconscious gesture reminded her of her mother and her curious initial reaction to Sydney’s choice.
~~~
“University of California? Interesting choice, do you have any particular reason for it?” To anyone who didn’t know her, Irina would have sounded merely curious, one who knew her well, however, would have detected the dubious note in her voice.
“They’re supposed to have some of the finest literature professors currently teaching. You think it’s a bad choice?” Not that she was going to change her mind, but it never hurt to have her mother’s approval.
“No, no, they do or at least did have. Just curious I guess.” Indirectly changing the subject Irina continued, “Have you thought about scholarships, and the like? Things that are going to affect your cover.”
~~~
Several months later, entering at a second year level instead of first and the recipient of a full scholarship, Sydney might have suspected the hand of her mother at work, but for the fact that academic achievement was one of the few things Irina Derevko held sacrosanct.
However, amongst all the careful preparations, construction of back-story, creation of identification and falsifying of documents, there was one thing that had been overlooked.
Accommodation.
By the time the necessary arrangements had been made to enable Sydney to enter college life without suspicion, there hadn’t actually been any dorms left on-campus and most of the available apartments and room within a reasonable distance, were either out of ‘Sydney Jenkins’ price range or available for very good reasons. This meant that Sydney had been living in one of the organization’s safe houses for the past month, an arrangement that could not continue indefinitely, for the sakes of both organizational security and Sydney’s sanity. As she contemplated this a bright yellow sign caught Sydney’s eye.
~~~
“Where is it?”
“She’s got it!”
“No, he has!”
“Get him!”
“LOOK OUT!!”
So intent was the ebony-skinned woman on tackling her quarry, equally intent on evading her, that neither of them noticed Sydney until all three went down in a tangle on limbs.
“Great way to watch where you’re going.” The woman commented as she disentangled herself from the pile, flashing an apologetic grin at Sydney. “Sorry about that.”
“And I noticed that you did such a better job,” was the pointed response from her scruffy blonde companion. “Here let me help.”
Accepting the bespectacled young man’s hand Sydney rose gracefully. “No problem, but what were you doing?”
“Playing Frisbee.” The blonde replied as he retrieved the fluorescent green disc, flipping it between his fingers. “Oh, I’m Will, by the way, and this is Francie.”
“Sydney.” A look of bemusement crossed her face. “Frisbee? I thought that was non-contact, especially for bystanders.”
“It is, unless you’re playing with Australians.” Francie deadpanned, gesturing at the large group of students playing on the grass. “Nuts the lot of them, they don’t think it’s a sport unless you tackle.”
“Hey, we heard that!”
“If you three are just gonna talk, d’ya at least think you could chuck us back the Frisbee.”
Expertly tossing the disc underhand, Will turned back to Sydney and Francie. “Hey, Syd, you want to join in? It’s really quite fun, once you get past the incredible violence.”
~~~
“Four months, it’s now officially over.” Weiss leaned back in his chair and stretched as he said this.
“What’s over?” Vaughn asked absent-mindedly as he went over the latest reports from counter-intelligence.
“The Bristow Handler pool.”
“The what?” Vaughn’s voice rose incredulously. “You were running a pool on me?”
“No I was not running a pool on you.” Weiss corrected. “I was running two. How long you lasted and who was next in the firing line.”
Deciding actual bullets would be juvenile, Vaughn settled for shooting his friend a dirty look. “And just who won these pools, Eric.”
“Well, nobody thought you’d last this long, so I guess you did.” With that he passed a large bottle across the desk to Vaughn. “Here’s your prize.”
“Ulcer medication?”
“After dealing with Agent Bristow for four months, office consensus was you’d need it. Besides, you never know when someone’s going to slip rattler venom in your coffee.”
“I’m not even going to ask where that one came from.”
“Yeah, that’s usually the best policy. So,” Drawing out the last syllable, Weiss abruptly leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, propping his chin on his interlaced fingers he looked the other agent in the eyes. “Michael, what’s it like, really?”
“Rattle snake venom? Can’t say I’d be in a position to know.”
Rolling his eyes heavenward at Vaughn’s deliberate obtuseness, Weiss clarified, “Working with Bristow. You should hear half the stories floating around here. Is it true he keeps the severed fingers of his enemies on his bookshelf?”
“No, they’re in his liquor cabinet, right next to the peppermint schnapps.”
“Really?”
“Of course not.” Vaughn slumped back in disbelief. “Eric, even if he did a third of the things they say he does, how would I know?”
“You are his handler.”
“That doesn’t make us drinking buddies, or even confidants. Eric, Jack is very… standoffish, to put it mildly.”
~~~
“And to put it bluntly, he’s a jerk!” Francie paused in the middle of her tirade to fling the Frisbee in the direction of the ‘goalposts’, actually two stacks of textbooks. “Cheating on me was bad enough, but with my flatmate?”
“What happened next?” The rather anarchic game purporting to be Frisbee turned out to be as much for socialising as anything else, and to be honest with herself, Sydney was genuinely intrigued by the unfolding saga of Francie’s ex-boyfriend and -flatmate.
“Chucks him out his ear, she does, her slag of a roomie too.” One of the other team’s players, a lanky brunette who gestured violently as she spoke, answered in tones of marked admiration. “You should’ve seen it, clothes everywhere, Francie here, quite justifiably mind you, screeching like a banshee. Fan-bloody-tastic.”
“Well, entertainment value aside, it still leaves me with a two-person rent and a one-person income.” Ducking after a particularly low throw, she continued “In the middle of the worst part of the year to be looking for a new flatmate too, just to make things that little bit more difficult.”
Sydney skidded to a halt as she remembered why she’d been over this side of the campus in the first place. “Wait a moment, you wouldn’t be the ‘F. Calfo’ who stuck up all those ‘room for rent’ signs, would you?”
“Last time I looked I was. You’re interested in the room?”