Dominion
- Thread starter icklebit0711
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Lemon-Krumpitz
Cadet
You seriously deserve to have more people reading this fic. There should be a... a 100 people on your PM list right now! ^_^ But people really need to read this fic. It's just so good
icklebit0711
Cadet
Hello, 
I finally got this part done but it took me a long time to get right. The story about sunsets is actually true me and my dad still watch them together when we can.
Disclaimer: Again I don’t own anything from the characters to the quotes from one of my favourite poems.
Dominion
Chapter 2
For faithful love will never turn to hate.
As she tries in vain to smother another yawn you decide to call her on it. “I think it’s time someone went to bed.” She smiles shyly like the little girl that got her hand caught in the cookie jar that you know without doubt that she once was. Another childhood gesture follows as she rubs her forehead slowly against your shoulder content to stay exactly where she is until she hears a yawn erupt from her human cushion.
“Looks like I’m not the only one.” Her dimples make a fleeting appearance as she meets your eyes. As quickly as you try to hide the apprehension from your countenance you are not fast enough for her to miss your hesitation. You receive further proof when she pulls away from you and moves to the opposite end of the sofa you are both currently ensconced on.
You beratingly congratulate yourself on managing to upset her again and you must have questioned your so-called intelligence numerous times before you notice the hitched breathing that she is desperately trying to gain control over. All thoughts of your needs and fears become non-existent compared to the woman next to you. She who has only earlier today discovered that she has lost two years of her life, that she has gone from the twenty-eight year-old she remembers to a thirty year-old that more resembles a stranger. She who has suffered both torture and torment that would have broken any weaker person in a matter of days. But that isn’t what you see, before you sits Sydney, the woman that you love forming a plethora of reasons for why you don’t want to share a bed with her.
“Sydney…don’t cry please…please baby.” She is sufficiently moved by the endearment and the broken phrasing to turn her head in your direction. You know from previous experience that she is telling you she’s willing to listen but nothing more. “This is slightly overwhelming, I mean three hours ago your dad comes and tells me that you’re alive. I’ve been mourning your death for two years and here you are in front of me…”
Although you have not by a long means finished she interprets your pause as her turn to join the conversation. “Overwhelming for you! Jesus Christ Vaughn I have people telling me that I was dead and you want me to feel bad for you. What about me? The last thing I remember is shooting a clone of my best friend while my other best friend was dead in the bathtub. Then nothing just dark for days. Forgive me but I find it hard to find sympathy for you, you’re not the one that ‘died’.” She spits the last word contemptuously in your face. Her epithet has left her cheeks flushed but the rest of her face remains a ghostly white. When she senses you are about to move towards her she wards you off with a weary shake of the head. “On top of all that you tell me that you can’t share a bed with me because it’s all too overwhelming.” Her voice is cutting it slices through your numbness each word reopening wounds that are only now beginning to heal.
“No and I never said that Syd.” She visibly flinches at the use of the familiar nickname. “Just listen to me there is nothing I would rather do than get into that bed with you, and we both know exactly what would happen and right now I know that’s not what you need.”
“How the hell do you know what I need!”
You are perfectly calm in your reply knowing that matching her tone will only incense her more at this point. “Because I know you Sydney, because for four years you have been my primary concern, because every other important person in my life pales in comparison to you and the depth of love I have for you.”
Where both deliberate, the love is slight
Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight?
At this the fight drains out of her, you observe as her body bends under the weight of the burden she is shouldering single-handedly. “I just…I wanted you to hold me.”
Sick of denying what both of you so clearly want you don’t offer any verbal reply instead offering your hand to her then leading her into the small bedroom at the back of the house and closing the door after you. Without thought you reach for each other. Hands grasp at whatever flesh they can find heedless of the apparel that separates you, as you rain harsh, demanding kisses on a mouth that is only too willing to comply. A course shiver runs through your body as your tongue is held captive by her mouth with a gentle sucking that is entirely too reminiscent of an intimate dance that your body is craving. Piece by piece a patchwork of skin is exposed to eyes hungry to savour every minute detail, as the two of you take stock of the every physical change.
Your coupling is fiercely passionate more so than it had ever been in the past. It is as primal and earthy as your love for each other is, at its peak you force your eyes open to gaze at the angel writhing beneath you. She moans your name again and again never getting past the “V” as the other letters are lost in lustful sighs. You are both lost to the divine sensations that wash over you until she speaks your first name which is followed by exquisite pressure and then release.
Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled,
The air with sparks of living fire was spangled.
***
As you watch her sleep you happily note that it appears a peaceful slumber, her face is at last free of the anxiety that has plagued her since you first saw her. At least for now she is relaxed, her forehead clear of the lines that had previously marred it. She is content to be in your arms as you are equally calmed by her presence there. The peace of your cocoon is shattered as desperate sobs erupt from your sleeping partner. Her previously relaxed body is now rigid with the tension she is exerting over her muscles, her body is taut preparing to fight off an attacker only she can see. Another sob follows the first and then another only broken up by intermittent shallow pants and heart wrenching whimpers that cruelly seem to form the syllable of your name. You attempt to pull her back into the circle of your embrace that she had wrenched herself free off, but she resists trying instead to fight off a grip that she no longer recognises as yours.
Her sobs turn feeble as she curls herself into a tight foetal position; it appears to you that she is trying to disappear into herself. “Please…stop…” are the first coherent words to pierce the silence and you realise exactly what demons are wreaking havoc in her tormented mind. In that moment your worst fears are realised because you had expected torture to have been a considerable part of her ordeal but such a violation had been excluded from your mind.
Fearing her rejection you ignore every instinct that screams at you to hold her instead keeping space between you. “Syd…Sydney it’s Michael.” She shows no sign of recognition. Slightly louder you try again to rouse her and for a split second you convince yourself that she has turned toward you. Encouraged by this you try a third time and are rewarded by orbs of molten ebony that pierce through to your soul. Unflinchingly you hold her gaze transmitting what you hope she recognises as love and comfort. Her eyes however show her pain, her fear and her despair emotions that reach depths you never considered to be possible.
Wells of unfathomable physical pain and mental anguish burn your retinas so fiercely that you have to look away. You can now acknowledge how truly broken the woman before you is and that you have never loved her more than you do at this moment. Perhaps it is because she is so vulnerable, that she needs you to save her, to be her guardian angel but you know the reality is nothing of the sort. For when you can finally meet her gaze once more you see a joy at your reunion that will in time eradicate the pain and the suffering. You know this is the case because for you the agonising pain of the past two years dissipated as soon as you heard her giggle while you stood in the corridor outside. You are only too confident that the numbing paralysis will leave her as it left you, that your love for each other will surmount any obstacles for it has already survived death.
It is with this resolution reached that you take her once more into your arms because this after all is where she belongs and you know that she feels it too, as her body relaxes into yours burning you as like molten lava she seeps into your every pore leaving no place untouched, no place unmarked. Your mother had always told you as a child that playing with fire would get you burned but being burned by Sydney Bristow is an experience like no other and one you will certainly never deny yourself.
The reason men know; let it suffice,
What we behold is censur’d by our eyes.
While time silently passes you both by Sydney becomes restless turning in your embrace so you are face to face. Her eyes are reproachful as she asks “tell me a story Michael something about your father?”
“Ok well when I was younger before he died, I guess I must have been six. I remember him taking me to one of the grass fields at the back of the house. My little league hockey team had lost a match and I was taking it pretty hard, actually I was inconsolable so Dad took me out and we went and sat in this field by my favourite climbing tree. For two hours we just sat never talking, just content to be spending time with each other. Eventually my Dad told me to look at the sky.” You remember the blood red orange sun setting and staining the sky and clouds with fierce pinks, intense oranges and burnt sienna. The same wave of calm washes over you as you recollect your father’s reverent inflections and the vision that has stayed with you for over twenty years.
“He told me that when he looked at sunsets he was overwhelmed with this sense of awe for something that was both so intrinsically linked and separate to him. They reminded him of his place in the world but also that even in the darkest of moments when he was resigned to all the evil in the world that beauty still exists, that it never truly leaves us.” That has always been one of your fondest recollections of your father but it is also one of the most painful, how many times as a lonely adolescent had you screamed at the sunset for the injustice of your father’s death.
When you joined the CIA and became not only aware but saw daily proof of the evil that your father had similarly witnessed all those years ago you again took to watching sunsets haunted by his words. Whenever you could you would retreat to the Santa Monica pier and watch; effortlessly transporting yourself back to a field that is now a cul de sac of town houses but for you would forever be the home of your favourite oak tree and your first experience of untainted rapture.
“I haven’t watched a sunset for years.”
“Why not?”
“Everything I ever saw in a sunset I see in you. The beauty, the awe and the innocence. Beauty isn’t something I need to search for at the end of the day; I have beauty, I know beauty because I know you Sydney Bristow.”
A combination of delightful naïve modesty and tears cause Sydney to hide her face from you. It is a reaction that you have come to cherish over the time you have known her. For a woman that can be so overtly sexual she has maintained a childish innocence also that makes her completely unaware of the effect that she has on the people around her. She lightens the lives and souls of everyone she touches without ever having to try.
“There’s nothing beautiful about me Vaughn.”
“Don’t” resonates harsher than you had intended it to. To soften your words you tighten your hold on her ensuring that her gaze is firmly fixed on yours. “You are the most extraordinarily stunning woman that I have ever known, inside and out. I know right now that you might not believe me but it’s true, it’s been true since the first day I met you.”
“But you don’t know everything Vaughn, if you knew then…”
“Then I’d still be as helplessly in love with you as I am right now.” At her doubting expression you know that you have to elaborate and at least try to convince her. “Syd there is nothing that could ever stop me from loving you. I spend two years grieving you and I still loved you just as much. I don’t know how to live without you so why would I ever walk away from you to try. I didn’t do so well by myself I need you Sydney, I’ve always needed you and there’s only one way I’m ever going to leave you.”
The grip of her arms around your waist has become uncomfortable but you will not push her away. Your actions would run contrary to your words and only succeed in proving her fears correct. So you hold her close and allow the bruising caress to continue for however long she needs it to.
Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled
These lovers parleyed by the touch of hands
True love is mute, and oft amazed stands
~TBC~
**The quotes in the chapter were taken from ‘Hero and Leander’ by Christopher Marlowe**
Each chapter is getting longer that can’t be good.
Anyway hope people enjoy reading and thanks for taking the time.
*icklebit* aka Jady T
I finally got this part done but it took me a long time to get right. The story about sunsets is actually true me and my dad still watch them together when we can.Disclaimer: Again I don’t own anything from the characters to the quotes from one of my favourite poems.
Dominion
Chapter 2
For faithful love will never turn to hate.
As she tries in vain to smother another yawn you decide to call her on it. “I think it’s time someone went to bed.” She smiles shyly like the little girl that got her hand caught in the cookie jar that you know without doubt that she once was. Another childhood gesture follows as she rubs her forehead slowly against your shoulder content to stay exactly where she is until she hears a yawn erupt from her human cushion.
“Looks like I’m not the only one.” Her dimples make a fleeting appearance as she meets your eyes. As quickly as you try to hide the apprehension from your countenance you are not fast enough for her to miss your hesitation. You receive further proof when she pulls away from you and moves to the opposite end of the sofa you are both currently ensconced on.
You beratingly congratulate yourself on managing to upset her again and you must have questioned your so-called intelligence numerous times before you notice the hitched breathing that she is desperately trying to gain control over. All thoughts of your needs and fears become non-existent compared to the woman next to you. She who has only earlier today discovered that she has lost two years of her life, that she has gone from the twenty-eight year-old she remembers to a thirty year-old that more resembles a stranger. She who has suffered both torture and torment that would have broken any weaker person in a matter of days. But that isn’t what you see, before you sits Sydney, the woman that you love forming a plethora of reasons for why you don’t want to share a bed with her.
“Sydney…don’t cry please…please baby.” She is sufficiently moved by the endearment and the broken phrasing to turn her head in your direction. You know from previous experience that she is telling you she’s willing to listen but nothing more. “This is slightly overwhelming, I mean three hours ago your dad comes and tells me that you’re alive. I’ve been mourning your death for two years and here you are in front of me…”
Although you have not by a long means finished she interprets your pause as her turn to join the conversation. “Overwhelming for you! Jesus Christ Vaughn I have people telling me that I was dead and you want me to feel bad for you. What about me? The last thing I remember is shooting a clone of my best friend while my other best friend was dead in the bathtub. Then nothing just dark for days. Forgive me but I find it hard to find sympathy for you, you’re not the one that ‘died’.” She spits the last word contemptuously in your face. Her epithet has left her cheeks flushed but the rest of her face remains a ghostly white. When she senses you are about to move towards her she wards you off with a weary shake of the head. “On top of all that you tell me that you can’t share a bed with me because it’s all too overwhelming.” Her voice is cutting it slices through your numbness each word reopening wounds that are only now beginning to heal.
“No and I never said that Syd.” She visibly flinches at the use of the familiar nickname. “Just listen to me there is nothing I would rather do than get into that bed with you, and we both know exactly what would happen and right now I know that’s not what you need.”
“How the hell do you know what I need!”
You are perfectly calm in your reply knowing that matching her tone will only incense her more at this point. “Because I know you Sydney, because for four years you have been my primary concern, because every other important person in my life pales in comparison to you and the depth of love I have for you.”
Where both deliberate, the love is slight
Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight?
At this the fight drains out of her, you observe as her body bends under the weight of the burden she is shouldering single-handedly. “I just…I wanted you to hold me.”
Sick of denying what both of you so clearly want you don’t offer any verbal reply instead offering your hand to her then leading her into the small bedroom at the back of the house and closing the door after you. Without thought you reach for each other. Hands grasp at whatever flesh they can find heedless of the apparel that separates you, as you rain harsh, demanding kisses on a mouth that is only too willing to comply. A course shiver runs through your body as your tongue is held captive by her mouth with a gentle sucking that is entirely too reminiscent of an intimate dance that your body is craving. Piece by piece a patchwork of skin is exposed to eyes hungry to savour every minute detail, as the two of you take stock of the every physical change.
Your coupling is fiercely passionate more so than it had ever been in the past. It is as primal and earthy as your love for each other is, at its peak you force your eyes open to gaze at the angel writhing beneath you. She moans your name again and again never getting past the “V” as the other letters are lost in lustful sighs. You are both lost to the divine sensations that wash over you until she speaks your first name which is followed by exquisite pressure and then release.
Thus while dumb signs their yielding hearts entangled,
The air with sparks of living fire was spangled.
***
As you watch her sleep you happily note that it appears a peaceful slumber, her face is at last free of the anxiety that has plagued her since you first saw her. At least for now she is relaxed, her forehead clear of the lines that had previously marred it. She is content to be in your arms as you are equally calmed by her presence there. The peace of your cocoon is shattered as desperate sobs erupt from your sleeping partner. Her previously relaxed body is now rigid with the tension she is exerting over her muscles, her body is taut preparing to fight off an attacker only she can see. Another sob follows the first and then another only broken up by intermittent shallow pants and heart wrenching whimpers that cruelly seem to form the syllable of your name. You attempt to pull her back into the circle of your embrace that she had wrenched herself free off, but she resists trying instead to fight off a grip that she no longer recognises as yours.
Her sobs turn feeble as she curls herself into a tight foetal position; it appears to you that she is trying to disappear into herself. “Please…stop…” are the first coherent words to pierce the silence and you realise exactly what demons are wreaking havoc in her tormented mind. In that moment your worst fears are realised because you had expected torture to have been a considerable part of her ordeal but such a violation had been excluded from your mind.
Fearing her rejection you ignore every instinct that screams at you to hold her instead keeping space between you. “Syd…Sydney it’s Michael.” She shows no sign of recognition. Slightly louder you try again to rouse her and for a split second you convince yourself that she has turned toward you. Encouraged by this you try a third time and are rewarded by orbs of molten ebony that pierce through to your soul. Unflinchingly you hold her gaze transmitting what you hope she recognises as love and comfort. Her eyes however show her pain, her fear and her despair emotions that reach depths you never considered to be possible.
Wells of unfathomable physical pain and mental anguish burn your retinas so fiercely that you have to look away. You can now acknowledge how truly broken the woman before you is and that you have never loved her more than you do at this moment. Perhaps it is because she is so vulnerable, that she needs you to save her, to be her guardian angel but you know the reality is nothing of the sort. For when you can finally meet her gaze once more you see a joy at your reunion that will in time eradicate the pain and the suffering. You know this is the case because for you the agonising pain of the past two years dissipated as soon as you heard her giggle while you stood in the corridor outside. You are only too confident that the numbing paralysis will leave her as it left you, that your love for each other will surmount any obstacles for it has already survived death.
It is with this resolution reached that you take her once more into your arms because this after all is where she belongs and you know that she feels it too, as her body relaxes into yours burning you as like molten lava she seeps into your every pore leaving no place untouched, no place unmarked. Your mother had always told you as a child that playing with fire would get you burned but being burned by Sydney Bristow is an experience like no other and one you will certainly never deny yourself.
The reason men know; let it suffice,
What we behold is censur’d by our eyes.
While time silently passes you both by Sydney becomes restless turning in your embrace so you are face to face. Her eyes are reproachful as she asks “tell me a story Michael something about your father?”
“Ok well when I was younger before he died, I guess I must have been six. I remember him taking me to one of the grass fields at the back of the house. My little league hockey team had lost a match and I was taking it pretty hard, actually I was inconsolable so Dad took me out and we went and sat in this field by my favourite climbing tree. For two hours we just sat never talking, just content to be spending time with each other. Eventually my Dad told me to look at the sky.” You remember the blood red orange sun setting and staining the sky and clouds with fierce pinks, intense oranges and burnt sienna. The same wave of calm washes over you as you recollect your father’s reverent inflections and the vision that has stayed with you for over twenty years.
“He told me that when he looked at sunsets he was overwhelmed with this sense of awe for something that was both so intrinsically linked and separate to him. They reminded him of his place in the world but also that even in the darkest of moments when he was resigned to all the evil in the world that beauty still exists, that it never truly leaves us.” That has always been one of your fondest recollections of your father but it is also one of the most painful, how many times as a lonely adolescent had you screamed at the sunset for the injustice of your father’s death.
When you joined the CIA and became not only aware but saw daily proof of the evil that your father had similarly witnessed all those years ago you again took to watching sunsets haunted by his words. Whenever you could you would retreat to the Santa Monica pier and watch; effortlessly transporting yourself back to a field that is now a cul de sac of town houses but for you would forever be the home of your favourite oak tree and your first experience of untainted rapture.
“I haven’t watched a sunset for years.”
“Why not?”
“Everything I ever saw in a sunset I see in you. The beauty, the awe and the innocence. Beauty isn’t something I need to search for at the end of the day; I have beauty, I know beauty because I know you Sydney Bristow.”
A combination of delightful naïve modesty and tears cause Sydney to hide her face from you. It is a reaction that you have come to cherish over the time you have known her. For a woman that can be so overtly sexual she has maintained a childish innocence also that makes her completely unaware of the effect that she has on the people around her. She lightens the lives and souls of everyone she touches without ever having to try.
“There’s nothing beautiful about me Vaughn.”
“Don’t” resonates harsher than you had intended it to. To soften your words you tighten your hold on her ensuring that her gaze is firmly fixed on yours. “You are the most extraordinarily stunning woman that I have ever known, inside and out. I know right now that you might not believe me but it’s true, it’s been true since the first day I met you.”
“But you don’t know everything Vaughn, if you knew then…”
“Then I’d still be as helplessly in love with you as I am right now.” At her doubting expression you know that you have to elaborate and at least try to convince her. “Syd there is nothing that could ever stop me from loving you. I spend two years grieving you and I still loved you just as much. I don’t know how to live without you so why would I ever walk away from you to try. I didn’t do so well by myself I need you Sydney, I’ve always needed you and there’s only one way I’m ever going to leave you.”
The grip of her arms around your waist has become uncomfortable but you will not push her away. Your actions would run contrary to your words and only succeed in proving her fears correct. So you hold her close and allow the bruising caress to continue for however long she needs it to.
Love deeply grounded, hardly is dissembled
These lovers parleyed by the touch of hands
True love is mute, and oft amazed stands
~TBC~
**The quotes in the chapter were taken from ‘Hero and Leander’ by Christopher Marlowe**
Each chapter is getting longer that can’t be good.
Anyway hope people enjoy reading and thanks for taking the time.*icklebit* aka Jady T
geez...
its the BEST. i mean, yes. truly is. i really love the three chapters. how you have described vaughn's feelings on the first chapter. how you have narrated their meeting. how they made love. vaughn's confession.
everything's perfect.
i am glad that i got the chance to read this! coz it is absolutely fantastic and amazing! its the best, really. the best fic that i have read.
kudos to yah!
and oh! please do pm me when you update? and i dont mind the length of the update. long or short, either way, its excellent. but i still prefer... longer. hehehe.
thanks! :rockon:
its the BEST. i mean, yes. truly is. i really love the three chapters. how you have described vaughn's feelings on the first chapter. how you have narrated their meeting. how they made love. vaughn's confession.
everything's perfect.
i am glad that i got the chance to read this! coz it is absolutely fantastic and amazing! its the best, really. the best fic that i have read.
kudos to yah!
and oh! please do pm me when you update? and i dont mind the length of the update. long or short, either way, its excellent. but i still prefer... longer. hehehe.
thanks! :rockon:
Holey felgercarb, holey felgercarb, holey felgercarb.
:thud:
If only you could've seen the strange looks my daddy-O was giving me when he walked past my room as I was reading this, and saw that I was talking to myself... Or more so, shouting at the computer screen... :lol:
Anyway, back to reviewing the chapter...
*eyes bulging*
I just found that quote to be the most AMAZING quote in the entire chapter... I mean, there were plenty in there that were just awe-worthy... But this one just really stood out to me as a favourite for some reason, it was just incredible beyond words...
Hm... Wish I had the time and patience to read through it again and pick out every single tiny quote that I found absolutely beautiful... But right now I can't be stuffed, so I'll settle with saying that I'm in complete awe of how many phenomenal quotes are squished all into one chapter... Just the whole overall quality of your writing keeps getting better and better, not that it needs to, because it's AMAZING already... But dude, you keep outdoing yourself, it's just.. What's another word for amazing? :lol:
*sigh* I don't know how you do it, but however you do... Keep up the awesome work, dudey...
*shakes head in awe*
Ooh, and one thing before I trot off! Never ever ever ever are the chapters too long... You can never get enough of this fic, trust me I LOVE THIS FIC TO BITS!!!
Cai
x
:thud:
If only you could've seen the strange looks my daddy-O was giving me when he walked past my room as I was reading this, and saw that I was talking to myself... Or more so, shouting at the computer screen... :lol:
Anyway, back to reviewing the chapter...
*eyes bulging*
I just found that quote to be the most AMAZING quote in the entire chapter... I mean, there were plenty in there that were just awe-worthy... But this one just really stood out to me as a favourite for some reason, it was just incredible beyond words...
Hm... Wish I had the time and patience to read through it again and pick out every single tiny quote that I found absolutely beautiful... But right now I can't be stuffed, so I'll settle with saying that I'm in complete awe of how many phenomenal quotes are squished all into one chapter... Just the whole overall quality of your writing keeps getting better and better, not that it needs to, because it's AMAZING already... But dude, you keep outdoing yourself, it's just.. What's another word for amazing? :lol:
*sigh* I don't know how you do it, but however you do... Keep up the awesome work, dudey...
*shakes head in awe*
Ooh, and one thing before I trot off! Never ever ever ever are the chapters too long... You can never get enough of this fic, trust me
I LOVE THIS FIC TO BITS!!!Cai
x
BrownEyedGirl
Cadet
Really really really good.
thanks for the PM.
thanks for the PM.
I'd like to start by saying WOW! This is the best written fic i've seen on this site...or maybe ever seen. I feel like i'm reading a beautiful love novel, the way their emotions are described, and Vaughn's so vividly I can picture them without having to really think at all. I'd also like to compliment your usage of all those quotes! Major props! Last but not least I would LOVE to be added to your pm list! Thanks a ton and FANTABULOUS writing! ^_^ ~Sarahvaughnsgurl4lf
Cadet
omg that was soooooooooooooooooo good
can't wait for more
can't wait for more
Lemon-Krumpitz
Cadet
That was so so so good. I'm glad Vaughn didnt leave Sydney for the two years in this fic. It makes me that much happier.
I loved that qoute for some reason. But great chapter and UPDATE SOON!
I loved that qoute for some reason. But great chapter and UPDATE SOON!
icklebit0711
Cadet
Hi
Just to let people know that I will be posting chapter 3 tomorrow and hopefully I might even be able to link my pms to the actual post this time (fingers crossed)
Thanks for the reviews and reading the fic
Icklebit aka Jady T
Just to let people know that I will be posting chapter 3 tomorrow and hopefully I might even be able to link my pms to the actual post this time (fingers crossed)
Thanks for the reviews and reading the fic
Icklebit aka Jady T
icklebit0711
Cadet
Here we go as promised chapter three.
Disclaimer: I still don't own Alias or the poetry I use
Dominion
Chapter 3
Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.
Pale sunlight creeps stealthily through opaque blinds that offer little resistance to its intrusion, gaining inches as the minutes pass until it caresses the foot of a bedspread that covers two entwined lovers still lost in their slumbers. Fully rested you are the first to stir, careful to stay motionless as not to wake the woman sleeping in your arms. Her hair is mussed against the white pillow, the chestnut tresses a stark contrast against the crisp linen. Her skin that had always been the colour of honey is now closer to ivory, you wonder exactly how many hours of sunlight has she been deprived of to have skin so much changed.
Your musing is disrupted by a soft mewling that signals her awakening. She pulls out of your arms in order to stretch her sleep-ridden limbs, you watch entranced by the lean lines of her body, the sensuous arch of her back and the soft expanse of stomach that is unveiled as the blanket slips down. A flash of silver catches your eye, your hand travels without deliberation to investigate further. A precise line approximately six centimetres long runs parallel to her right hip. As your fingers grace the edges a harsh intake of breath meets your ears. “They found it yesterday, it could have been from the fight or later, the doctors weren’t sure.”
Her whispered words do little to mask the misery behind them; it is a physical manifestation of everything that is lost to her and of woes that are so deeply rooted in her psyche but that have no context or explanation. You pass your lips over the top of the incision trying desperately to convey so much that you cannot force yourself to give voice to.
The moment is broken however by the shrill ringing of a cell phone, the incessant melody blares across the previously serene moment irrevocably ending it. As you force yourself up from the bed grabbing your previously discarded boxers from the floor you see your bedfellow’s intent is also to rise. Gaining her attention you drowsily murmur “Stay, I’ll be back once I get rid of whoever that is.”
Only too happy to comply with your wishes she snuggles back into the warmth you are being forced to leave. As you make your way towards the cause of the disruption you silently pray that the caller will simply ring off. The cell is still ringing when you are able to locate it checking the caller id you hesitatingly answer. The voice far too cheerful and obnoxious for this time in the morning barrages you with rapid fire questions none of which he lets you answer. You simply wait knowing that he will have to pause for a breath eventually. When he does you interject “are you going to let me answer any of those questions? What can I do for you Eric?” He informs you that you and Sydney have fifteen minutes to make yourselves presentable before he comes to get you. Where you are going you know better than to ask, and you are damning the CIA when two slender arms wrap around your waist followed by a warm body sidling up behind you. “See you then.” Not waiting for a reply you snap your phone closed.
“Who are you going to see?” She questions as you turn around to face her and drop a quick kiss on her waiting lips.
“Not just me, Eric is coming to pick us up in fifteen minutes, something about interviews regarding your reappearance.” She immediately stiffens, while she had accepted that there was going to an investigation, she was dreading it; the long tedious debriefs, the regression therapy that they would encourage her to go through all so they could discover what had occurred during two years that she remembered nothing of. “It’s going to be ok Syd, I’m going to be there with you the whole time.” Your assurance relaxes her enough for the tension to seep out of her body.
“I’m going to have a quick shower.” The smile she pastes on her lips to pacify you quickly dissolves as she walks to the bathroom. The suggestion of regression therapy chills her body as uncontrollable shivers rampage through her nervous system. She turns the temperature gage on the shower to the hottest it can go, hoping that the pelting water will chase away the cold that has settled in her bones. The last time she had undergone regression therapy she had found out about Project Christmas and had almost crumbled completely in the face of such a betrayal by her father. But Vaughn had been there for her, to pick her up and comfort her just like he always had, but what assurance did she have that he would stay this time. What frightened her most was the possibility that she would find out something that he would find incomprehensible and ultimately insurmountable, that he would leave her; condemn her actions and discard of her in a world that she knew nothing about.
All too quickly she hears a persistent knocking on the door rousing her from her ominous doubts and anxieties. When she has gingerly climbed out and turned off the water she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrored fascia of the medical cabinet. Angry red skin from the harsh scrubbing and scalding water has darkened her eyes to jet black, eyes that stare back at her with absolutely no recognition. Her attention is still set on the mirror when you enter, you blanche as with broad sweeping strokes you view the almost scarlet colour of her flesh and you cannot help but wonder what she is seeing in the mirror that has her so fixated.
“Syd I brought your clothes, there was clean underwear in the bag that your dad left for us.” In truth your urgency for her to get dressed is not entirely because of Eric’s imminent arrival but because you cannot abide to see what she has done to herself. You realise that while you might be able to soothe some of the worries she has that is not enough to rid her of all her fretfulness. “You get dressed, I’m going to make us some coffee.” The haste behind escaping the small room has very little to do with the woman standing in it but more to do with your failings. While your words and touches can do so much their power is limited and you consider if ultimately you are going to have the strength to pull her back from where she is residing.
The doorbell interrupts your thoughts as you go to open the door to a man that you have not seen in fifteen months. Eric Weiss your closest friend since you had joined the agency stands before you balancing a starbucks drink holder in one hand and a box of Krispy Kremes in the other. He has changed very little except that he is slimmer now than you remember him being. An awkward smile forms as he waits for you to let him in or relieve him of one of his packages. You take the drinks holder from him and open the door farther so he can enter the modest living room. “I come bearing gifts, coffee and doughnuts what’s better than that.” The humour is but a thin veil over his apprehension at seeing you again.
“Look Eric I know we need to talk and we will but right now we need to get Syd through today.” You hope that you have put him at ease, the renewal of his friendship is important to you but Sydney needs to come first before you attempt to deal with anything else. He sets the box down on the nearby counter quickly reaching in and helping himself to a powdered ring.
“How is she?” mumbled through a mouthful of doughnut you are only just able to understand what he says. How to answer such a loaded question, and do you even have an answer that you can give him. Nodding before taking hold of the large coffee cup that he pointed out as yours, allowing yourself a sip before facing him. Fortunately you don’t have to answer as a cheerful voice interrupts you.
“Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Sydney smiles before walking over to Eric for a hug. “Looking good Eric you’ve been working out?”
For one that never seems flustered or at a loss for words Eric Weiss has no idea what to say. When he had first received the call from Jack he had thought it a hoax, even though it wasn’t that uncommon for agents to come back from the ‘dead’ he never thought that Sydney would. So he takes the safe option and remains quite content to hold her for a little while.
“Wow coffee and doughnuts went flat out huh?” The teasing lilt to her voice is a welcome destructor to the tension that has been increasing steadily since you saw her in the bathroom.
“How about we bring this stuff with us? Can’t be late you little lady have a meeting set up with someone all the way from Washington.” Weiss’s tone is forcibly light, not wanting to impart the seriousness of the situation and cause Sydney any further worry.
“Langley?” The quietly hopeful expression she shoots Eric disappears as soon as he shakes his head. You silently move closer to her offering your shoulder for her to lean on, an offer she immediately takes up and she transfers some of her body weight onto you. Tentatively you brush your fingers down her spine comforting her as Eric’s words further dash her hopes.
“No the NSC have sent someone the investigation is being conducted by them because of the need for impartiality.” The words come out quicker than he had intended, nervous as to what reaction they are going to garner from the couple. The resignation with which they both accept his statement shocks him, he had expected a fight from Sydney at least when he had sat in his car parked outside the safe house that’s the way the scenarios had all run. He had not believed tacit acceptance would be all his pronouncement would be met with.
You decide now is the time to leave before Sydney bolts for the bedroom, using your hand on the small of her back to guide her out. “Ok so let’s go.” As the three of you exit you feel a smaller hand reaching out for yours, entwining your fingers in an intricate pattern that blends them into each other, making it impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends.
“It’s going to be fine, just remember I’m going to be with you the whole time I promise. I won’t let go Syd.”
***
“Exactly how long is this going to take?” Sydney puffs out her cheeks, having to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the stupid questions that are being put to her. She knows her reactions are that of a petulant teenager but the woman sitting across from her grates on her nerves with her superior finishing school tone. The fact that Vaughn is being forced to wait outside since privacy is vital is also a bone of contention between the two of you. This woman delighted in the fact when she told you that it wasn’t possible for anyone else to be in the room.
“Are you in a hurry to be somewhere Agent Bristow?” The snide tone is only thinly hidden this time by the woman conducting the investigation, as her pen makes deeper and deeper incisions on the pages that are meant to be for her notes you get a clear measure of how frustrated she is becoming. From the second this interview began the CIA agent had been rude, obviously not wanting to be here. She took a slightly perverse kick from the fact that Agent Bristow was being forced to comply with the NSC during this investigation, especially since she knew of the agent’s blatant disregard for authority.
“No I just don’t understand how you expect me to be able to answer your questions when I have no memories of the time.” You feel your heckles start to rise at the barb she threw at you. The way she over-pronounced her words dragging them out for as long as she could was only making the whole process even more tedious.
A strange high-pitched whinny that you interpret as a laugh echoes around the room, and you contemplate exactly what she has found amusing. Something else strikes you though a familiarity, the sense that you have heard that laugh before. You drown out what she is saying instead focussing on that feeling.
You’re in a car sitting outside an apartment complex, as you glance in the rear-view mirror to fix your hair you observe movement. Two men are walking towards a car, when they get in and drive off you follow them only to pull up outside a bar. While they step inside and order their drinks you wait in the car weighing up the situation.
“Agent Bristow, Agent Bristow I was asking how did you find out about the double?” Her question which she has obviously asked you more than once pulls you away from the picture reel playing in your mind. She is becoming more annoyed with you as you fail to answer her again. “Can you just answer the question please?”
“My friend Will Tippin had left voicemail on my cell, he told me that he had found provacilium in the bathroom and that he suspected Francie was the double. I tricked her by offering her some coffee ice cream which she ate. When I realised the truth I went to my bedroom to get my gun but she came in after me.”
“So a fight ensued, what is your first memory after that?”
How many times did she have to repeat herself. “I’ve already answered that, the first thing I remember is waking up in a alley in Hong Kong then contacting the CIA.” Angered by the apparent lack of empathy the woman opposite her was displaying incensed Sydney, they were talking about her life and the events which had led to her disappearance were impossible for her to talk about with objective indifference.
Irritated by the complete lack of process that was being made she tossed her hair, a habit she did far too often so she could better observe the scrawny brunette sitting before her. Agent Bristow is once again ignoring you, her face while fixed on yours is completely unseeing to you or your surroundings.
One of the men sits alone at the bar nursing a beer that he has not touched since the other man placed it in front of him. You have taken a seat close by the door so you can watch him without him seeing you, you are fortunate that the bar is fairly busy especially in the area you are in. To his left you see a blond woman who has periodically been casting glances in his direction. As she finishes her drink she turns her body to face his and engages him in conversation. She trails a dainty hand through her wavy hair in a way you think she must mean to be seductive, the man it is aimed at seems however not to notice.
Their conversation continues, if one could call this a conversation the woman appears to be doing all the talking while the man pays little attention to what she is saying. She must have asked a question because she reaches for his bicep running her index finger in circles while waiting for him to answer. A searing pain shoots through your palm, when you look down to assess the damage you see the martini glass stem that you had been holding has snapped clean in half.
“Who was it that you spoke to at the CIA?” Once more her pen scratches at the paper that sounds like it is close to ripping under the force she is exerting.
Non-too subtly you glance at your wristwatch enjoying the fractious look that flashes in her eyes. “I was patched through to Director Kendall, after ensuring I was who I said I spoke to my father who told me that he would shortly be on his way to fetch me.”
Her next question throws you completely as the look on your face clearly shows “Why didn’t Agent Vaughn come for you?”
Unbelieving that she has the audacity to bring up your personal relationship you allow a portion of the venom that you wish to direct at her creep into your voice. “What?”
“I’m sorry do you need me to repeat the question?” The condescension literally drips from the seemingly helpful question while her face contorts smugly with the knowledge that she has finally caught you unprepared.
‘Exactly who does she think she is?’ You draw yourself up to your full height sitting as straight-backed as you can in the uncomfortable chairs so you can look down on her as you reply “No I heard you just fine the first time, I would however like to know why you asked.”
“Well your relationship was common knowledge around here. He was the first person on scene the night you die…disappeared and took extended leave from the agency a year after only to return now with you.”
You read her lips as she questions him again “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m on leave.” His answer is concise and to the point, he never gives the impression that he wants to answer her questions but his manners do not allow him to sit there and ignore her.
She must be encouraged by his answer as her hand slides to his back resting on his shoulder blade in a touch that proclaims ‘intimacy’ to anyone watching. He does not shrug off her hand but remains indifferent to the attention. The kiss when it comes is unexpected and at first he does not pull away but neither does he kiss her back. When she pulls back from him she brushes some hairs that have fallen across her face behind her ear. She thinks nothing of the action until he pulls her to him slamming his lips down on hers, while she is momentarily stunned her response is eager as her hand winds its way into the hairs at the nape of his neck.
Tears fall unchecked down your cheeks until you force yourself to clear them and get as far away from here as you can. Safely in your car and four corners down from the bar you break down, violent sobs rack your body. How could he? How could he kiss someone else like that? Immersed in your own upset you do not see him ferociously shove her away or the frantic dash he makes for the door. All you can see is Michael Vaughn kissing another woman, all you can see is Michael Vaughn betraying you.
As the conference room snaps back into focus you cannot erase the sight of Michael Vaughn betraying you, of him kissing the woman seated opposite to you, this woman, this NSC agent, Agent Lauren Reed.
The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies,
When love is done
~TBC~
**The quotes in this chapter are taken from ‘The Voice’ by Thomas Hardy and ‘Night’ by Francis William Bourdillon**
Good/bad? Did anyone not get the twist before the end? Let me know, thanks for reading.
Icklebit aka Jady T
Disclaimer: I still don't own Alias or the poetry I use
Dominion
Chapter 3
Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.
Pale sunlight creeps stealthily through opaque blinds that offer little resistance to its intrusion, gaining inches as the minutes pass until it caresses the foot of a bedspread that covers two entwined lovers still lost in their slumbers. Fully rested you are the first to stir, careful to stay motionless as not to wake the woman sleeping in your arms. Her hair is mussed against the white pillow, the chestnut tresses a stark contrast against the crisp linen. Her skin that had always been the colour of honey is now closer to ivory, you wonder exactly how many hours of sunlight has she been deprived of to have skin so much changed.
Your musing is disrupted by a soft mewling that signals her awakening. She pulls out of your arms in order to stretch her sleep-ridden limbs, you watch entranced by the lean lines of her body, the sensuous arch of her back and the soft expanse of stomach that is unveiled as the blanket slips down. A flash of silver catches your eye, your hand travels without deliberation to investigate further. A precise line approximately six centimetres long runs parallel to her right hip. As your fingers grace the edges a harsh intake of breath meets your ears. “They found it yesterday, it could have been from the fight or later, the doctors weren’t sure.”
Her whispered words do little to mask the misery behind them; it is a physical manifestation of everything that is lost to her and of woes that are so deeply rooted in her psyche but that have no context or explanation. You pass your lips over the top of the incision trying desperately to convey so much that you cannot force yourself to give voice to.
The moment is broken however by the shrill ringing of a cell phone, the incessant melody blares across the previously serene moment irrevocably ending it. As you force yourself up from the bed grabbing your previously discarded boxers from the floor you see your bedfellow’s intent is also to rise. Gaining her attention you drowsily murmur “Stay, I’ll be back once I get rid of whoever that is.”
Only too happy to comply with your wishes she snuggles back into the warmth you are being forced to leave. As you make your way towards the cause of the disruption you silently pray that the caller will simply ring off. The cell is still ringing when you are able to locate it checking the caller id you hesitatingly answer. The voice far too cheerful and obnoxious for this time in the morning barrages you with rapid fire questions none of which he lets you answer. You simply wait knowing that he will have to pause for a breath eventually. When he does you interject “are you going to let me answer any of those questions? What can I do for you Eric?” He informs you that you and Sydney have fifteen minutes to make yourselves presentable before he comes to get you. Where you are going you know better than to ask, and you are damning the CIA when two slender arms wrap around your waist followed by a warm body sidling up behind you. “See you then.” Not waiting for a reply you snap your phone closed.
“Who are you going to see?” She questions as you turn around to face her and drop a quick kiss on her waiting lips.
“Not just me, Eric is coming to pick us up in fifteen minutes, something about interviews regarding your reappearance.” She immediately stiffens, while she had accepted that there was going to an investigation, she was dreading it; the long tedious debriefs, the regression therapy that they would encourage her to go through all so they could discover what had occurred during two years that she remembered nothing of. “It’s going to be ok Syd, I’m going to be there with you the whole time.” Your assurance relaxes her enough for the tension to seep out of her body.
“I’m going to have a quick shower.” The smile she pastes on her lips to pacify you quickly dissolves as she walks to the bathroom. The suggestion of regression therapy chills her body as uncontrollable shivers rampage through her nervous system. She turns the temperature gage on the shower to the hottest it can go, hoping that the pelting water will chase away the cold that has settled in her bones. The last time she had undergone regression therapy she had found out about Project Christmas and had almost crumbled completely in the face of such a betrayal by her father. But Vaughn had been there for her, to pick her up and comfort her just like he always had, but what assurance did she have that he would stay this time. What frightened her most was the possibility that she would find out something that he would find incomprehensible and ultimately insurmountable, that he would leave her; condemn her actions and discard of her in a world that she knew nothing about.
All too quickly she hears a persistent knocking on the door rousing her from her ominous doubts and anxieties. When she has gingerly climbed out and turned off the water she catches a glimpse of her reflection in the mirrored fascia of the medical cabinet. Angry red skin from the harsh scrubbing and scalding water has darkened her eyes to jet black, eyes that stare back at her with absolutely no recognition. Her attention is still set on the mirror when you enter, you blanche as with broad sweeping strokes you view the almost scarlet colour of her flesh and you cannot help but wonder what she is seeing in the mirror that has her so fixated.
“Syd I brought your clothes, there was clean underwear in the bag that your dad left for us.” In truth your urgency for her to get dressed is not entirely because of Eric’s imminent arrival but because you cannot abide to see what she has done to herself. You realise that while you might be able to soothe some of the worries she has that is not enough to rid her of all her fretfulness. “You get dressed, I’m going to make us some coffee.” The haste behind escaping the small room has very little to do with the woman standing in it but more to do with your failings. While your words and touches can do so much their power is limited and you consider if ultimately you are going to have the strength to pull her back from where she is residing.
The doorbell interrupts your thoughts as you go to open the door to a man that you have not seen in fifteen months. Eric Weiss your closest friend since you had joined the agency stands before you balancing a starbucks drink holder in one hand and a box of Krispy Kremes in the other. He has changed very little except that he is slimmer now than you remember him being. An awkward smile forms as he waits for you to let him in or relieve him of one of his packages. You take the drinks holder from him and open the door farther so he can enter the modest living room. “I come bearing gifts, coffee and doughnuts what’s better than that.” The humour is but a thin veil over his apprehension at seeing you again.
“Look Eric I know we need to talk and we will but right now we need to get Syd through today.” You hope that you have put him at ease, the renewal of his friendship is important to you but Sydney needs to come first before you attempt to deal with anything else. He sets the box down on the nearby counter quickly reaching in and helping himself to a powdered ring.
“How is she?” mumbled through a mouthful of doughnut you are only just able to understand what he says. How to answer such a loaded question, and do you even have an answer that you can give him. Nodding before taking hold of the large coffee cup that he pointed out as yours, allowing yourself a sip before facing him. Fortunately you don’t have to answer as a cheerful voice interrupts you.
“Why don’t you ask me yourself?” Sydney smiles before walking over to Eric for a hug. “Looking good Eric you’ve been working out?”
For one that never seems flustered or at a loss for words Eric Weiss has no idea what to say. When he had first received the call from Jack he had thought it a hoax, even though it wasn’t that uncommon for agents to come back from the ‘dead’ he never thought that Sydney would. So he takes the safe option and remains quite content to hold her for a little while.
“Wow coffee and doughnuts went flat out huh?” The teasing lilt to her voice is a welcome destructor to the tension that has been increasing steadily since you saw her in the bathroom.
“How about we bring this stuff with us? Can’t be late you little lady have a meeting set up with someone all the way from Washington.” Weiss’s tone is forcibly light, not wanting to impart the seriousness of the situation and cause Sydney any further worry.
“Langley?” The quietly hopeful expression she shoots Eric disappears as soon as he shakes his head. You silently move closer to her offering your shoulder for her to lean on, an offer she immediately takes up and she transfers some of her body weight onto you. Tentatively you brush your fingers down her spine comforting her as Eric’s words further dash her hopes.
“No the NSC have sent someone the investigation is being conducted by them because of the need for impartiality.” The words come out quicker than he had intended, nervous as to what reaction they are going to garner from the couple. The resignation with which they both accept his statement shocks him, he had expected a fight from Sydney at least when he had sat in his car parked outside the safe house that’s the way the scenarios had all run. He had not believed tacit acceptance would be all his pronouncement would be met with.
You decide now is the time to leave before Sydney bolts for the bedroom, using your hand on the small of her back to guide her out. “Ok so let’s go.” As the three of you exit you feel a smaller hand reaching out for yours, entwining your fingers in an intricate pattern that blends them into each other, making it impossible to tell where one begins and the other ends.
“It’s going to be fine, just remember I’m going to be with you the whole time I promise. I won’t let go Syd.”
***
“Exactly how long is this going to take?” Sydney puffs out her cheeks, having to stop herself from rolling her eyes at the stupid questions that are being put to her. She knows her reactions are that of a petulant teenager but the woman sitting across from her grates on her nerves with her superior finishing school tone. The fact that Vaughn is being forced to wait outside since privacy is vital is also a bone of contention between the two of you. This woman delighted in the fact when she told you that it wasn’t possible for anyone else to be in the room.
“Are you in a hurry to be somewhere Agent Bristow?” The snide tone is only thinly hidden this time by the woman conducting the investigation, as her pen makes deeper and deeper incisions on the pages that are meant to be for her notes you get a clear measure of how frustrated she is becoming. From the second this interview began the CIA agent had been rude, obviously not wanting to be here. She took a slightly perverse kick from the fact that Agent Bristow was being forced to comply with the NSC during this investigation, especially since she knew of the agent’s blatant disregard for authority.
“No I just don’t understand how you expect me to be able to answer your questions when I have no memories of the time.” You feel your heckles start to rise at the barb she threw at you. The way she over-pronounced her words dragging them out for as long as she could was only making the whole process even more tedious.
A strange high-pitched whinny that you interpret as a laugh echoes around the room, and you contemplate exactly what she has found amusing. Something else strikes you though a familiarity, the sense that you have heard that laugh before. You drown out what she is saying instead focussing on that feeling.
You’re in a car sitting outside an apartment complex, as you glance in the rear-view mirror to fix your hair you observe movement. Two men are walking towards a car, when they get in and drive off you follow them only to pull up outside a bar. While they step inside and order their drinks you wait in the car weighing up the situation.
“Agent Bristow, Agent Bristow I was asking how did you find out about the double?” Her question which she has obviously asked you more than once pulls you away from the picture reel playing in your mind. She is becoming more annoyed with you as you fail to answer her again. “Can you just answer the question please?”
“My friend Will Tippin had left voicemail on my cell, he told me that he had found provacilium in the bathroom and that he suspected Francie was the double. I tricked her by offering her some coffee ice cream which she ate. When I realised the truth I went to my bedroom to get my gun but she came in after me.”
“So a fight ensued, what is your first memory after that?”
How many times did she have to repeat herself. “I’ve already answered that, the first thing I remember is waking up in a alley in Hong Kong then contacting the CIA.” Angered by the apparent lack of empathy the woman opposite her was displaying incensed Sydney, they were talking about her life and the events which had led to her disappearance were impossible for her to talk about with objective indifference.
Irritated by the complete lack of process that was being made she tossed her hair, a habit she did far too often so she could better observe the scrawny brunette sitting before her. Agent Bristow is once again ignoring you, her face while fixed on yours is completely unseeing to you or your surroundings.
One of the men sits alone at the bar nursing a beer that he has not touched since the other man placed it in front of him. You have taken a seat close by the door so you can watch him without him seeing you, you are fortunate that the bar is fairly busy especially in the area you are in. To his left you see a blond woman who has periodically been casting glances in his direction. As she finishes her drink she turns her body to face his and engages him in conversation. She trails a dainty hand through her wavy hair in a way you think she must mean to be seductive, the man it is aimed at seems however not to notice.
Their conversation continues, if one could call this a conversation the woman appears to be doing all the talking while the man pays little attention to what she is saying. She must have asked a question because she reaches for his bicep running her index finger in circles while waiting for him to answer. A searing pain shoots through your palm, when you look down to assess the damage you see the martini glass stem that you had been holding has snapped clean in half.
“Who was it that you spoke to at the CIA?” Once more her pen scratches at the paper that sounds like it is close to ripping under the force she is exerting.
Non-too subtly you glance at your wristwatch enjoying the fractious look that flashes in her eyes. “I was patched through to Director Kendall, after ensuring I was who I said I spoke to my father who told me that he would shortly be on his way to fetch me.”
Her next question throws you completely as the look on your face clearly shows “Why didn’t Agent Vaughn come for you?”
Unbelieving that she has the audacity to bring up your personal relationship you allow a portion of the venom that you wish to direct at her creep into your voice. “What?”
“I’m sorry do you need me to repeat the question?” The condescension literally drips from the seemingly helpful question while her face contorts smugly with the knowledge that she has finally caught you unprepared.
‘Exactly who does she think she is?’ You draw yourself up to your full height sitting as straight-backed as you can in the uncomfortable chairs so you can look down on her as you reply “No I heard you just fine the first time, I would however like to know why you asked.”
“Well your relationship was common knowledge around here. He was the first person on scene the night you die…disappeared and took extended leave from the agency a year after only to return now with you.”
You read her lips as she questions him again “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m on leave.” His answer is concise and to the point, he never gives the impression that he wants to answer her questions but his manners do not allow him to sit there and ignore her.
She must be encouraged by his answer as her hand slides to his back resting on his shoulder blade in a touch that proclaims ‘intimacy’ to anyone watching. He does not shrug off her hand but remains indifferent to the attention. The kiss when it comes is unexpected and at first he does not pull away but neither does he kiss her back. When she pulls back from him she brushes some hairs that have fallen across her face behind her ear. She thinks nothing of the action until he pulls her to him slamming his lips down on hers, while she is momentarily stunned her response is eager as her hand winds its way into the hairs at the nape of his neck.
Tears fall unchecked down your cheeks until you force yourself to clear them and get as far away from here as you can. Safely in your car and four corners down from the bar you break down, violent sobs rack your body. How could he? How could he kiss someone else like that? Immersed in your own upset you do not see him ferociously shove her away or the frantic dash he makes for the door. All you can see is Michael Vaughn kissing another woman, all you can see is Michael Vaughn betraying you.
As the conference room snaps back into focus you cannot erase the sight of Michael Vaughn betraying you, of him kissing the woman seated opposite to you, this woman, this NSC agent, Agent Lauren Reed.
The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies,
When love is done
~TBC~
**The quotes in this chapter are taken from ‘The Voice’ by Thomas Hardy and ‘Night’ by Francis William Bourdillon**
Good/bad? Did anyone not get the twist before the end? Let me know, thanks for reading.
Icklebit aka Jady T
oh goodness, sydney was at the bar observing lauren flirt with michael who was on leave by the time of sydney's disappearance. she was there. she saw it... oh God why is it that particular memory was the one thing that flashed back to her! i cant imagine how she would react after that flashback. haha!
but still, i love your whole concept of sydney's reappearance to the CIA with vaughn on her side.
as for lauren, what really happened between the two of them.. i wonder what twists you have. i am so very curious.
thanks for sharing this with us! you write brilliantly! please do keep the updates coming!
but still, i love your whole concept of sydney's reappearance to the CIA with vaughn on her side.
as for lauren, what really happened between the two of them.. i wonder what twists you have. i am so very curious.
thanks for sharing this with us! you write brilliantly! please do keep the updates coming!
HOLEY felgercarb.
*runs straight into the review, flailing arms about*
Holey moley-oley.
I figured it out before the chapter actually finished, because whenever someone mentions 'NSC', I think everyone just thinks about the cow with the caterpillar eyebrows... :lol: But DUDE! Just the way you wrote it, and concluded the chapter, and played everything out like that... That was just amazing. Beyond fascination, as I'm staring at this chapter in complete awe now...
Because THAT was not expected.
See, thats the thing that I love about fics like this one... I love how writers like you use the opportunity they have, to throw in twists and turns to the plot, instead of sticking to the usual cliché alot of writers choose to do...
onder:
:thud:
Holey bejeebus. I'm still in shock... Because that was SO unexpected.
First of all, there was no ring that was noticed.
Second of all, Syd and Vaughn slept together.
Third of all... He's MICHAEL VAUGHN. And yet he still fails to tell her that he's married before they're intimate...
You are my HERO Jady! :lol: Loooooove your fic to pieces... Itty bitty witty pieces!
Cai
x
*runs straight into the review, flailing arms about*
Holey moley-oley.
I figured it out before the chapter actually finished, because whenever someone mentions 'NSC', I think everyone just thinks about the cow with the caterpillar eyebrows... :lol: But DUDE! Just the way you wrote it, and concluded the chapter, and played everything out like that... That was just amazing. Beyond fascination, as I'm staring at this chapter in complete awe now...
Because THAT was not expected.
See, thats the thing that I love about fics like this one... I love how writers like you use the opportunity they have, to throw in twists and turns to the plot, instead of sticking to the usual cliché alot of writers choose to do...
onder::thud:
Holey bejeebus. I'm still in shock... Because that was SO unexpected.
First of all, there was no ring that was noticed.
Second of all, Syd and Vaughn slept together.
Third of all... He's MICHAEL VAUGHN. And yet he still fails to tell her that he's married before they're intimate...
You are my HERO Jady! :lol: Loooooove your fic to pieces... Itty bitty witty pieces!
Cai
x
LaurenRachael
Mommy, can I please have a snow plough?
HOLY s***!
:thud:
I think... this is the most amazing fic I've ever read.
I'm being spoiled rotten!
I LOVE IT. There's nothing more to say.
There an addicts list?! If not, I CLAIM NUMBER ONE! Because there should be one. Actually, it should be called Best-Fic-In-The-World-And-I-Agree List!
Please add me to your PM list!
Lauren
Edited 'cause I can't spell my own name!
:thud:
I think... this is the most amazing fic I've ever read.
I'm being spoiled rotten!
I LOVE IT. There's nothing more to say.
There an addicts list?! If not, I CLAIM NUMBER ONE! Because there should be one. Actually, it should be called Best-Fic-In-The-World-And-I-Agree List!
Please add me to your PM list!
Lauren
Edited 'cause I can't spell my own name!
vaughnsgurl4lf
Cadet
omg this is sooooo good
great chap
can't wait for more
great chap
can't wait for more
BrownEyedGirl
Cadet
Oh no. How is vaughn gonna get out of this one?
BrownEyedGirl
Cadet
Oh no. How is vaughn gonna get out of this one?
