Ok here we go, I think I need a holiday after this!! :blink:
Disclaimer: No poems or Alias characters belong to me, although BV is subject to my interpretation he’s not my creation. Lorenzo’s mine though!! All mine!!
Dominion
Chapter 6
Nor moon, nor stars were out;
They did not dare to tread so soon about,
Though trembling, in the footsteps of the sun:
The light was neither night’s nor day’s, but one
Which, life-like, had a beauty in its doubt,
And silence’s impassioned breathings round
Seemed wandering into sound.
A distinct shuffle is heard as a foot catches sloppily on the concrete, subconsciously you brace yourself against the restraints preparing for the appearance of a man that you have been grieving for nearly three decades. As he finally steps into the small circle of light cast out by the meagre strip above a heavy gasp escapes you; this man in no way resembles your father. Everything about him is drawn and tired like a man who has carried a burden alone for too long; his face has aged beyond his sixty years, deep lines bear witness to the weight of his deceptions and longing for a child and a wife that he has continually denied himself the luxury of.
When he speaks it is not with the voice that once told you stories at bedtime, that comforted you and reasoned with you. It is the voice of a stranger, an impostor; this is not your idol neither is he the man you have crafted out your entire adult life trying to emulate. “Hello Michael…I…I…”
“What’s the matter dad can’t find the words?” The acidic inflections of your tone sting not only you but the two other inhabitants of the room as well. The warning you see in your father’s eyes speaks to admonishment and you have to control the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all, indeed you would laugh if it wouldn’t have been so alien to the situation playing out before you. It strikes you as ridiculous, here you are handcuffed to a bed while your father holds court and your girlfriend calmly watches over the two of you.
“Is there anything I can say that you would believe?” His voice has softened, resignation and defeat seeping in as for the first time he faces the repercussions of his actions. Slowly he reaches across you to hand something to Sydney, she takes it form him and begins undoing your restraints. Gently she rubs each appendage as she releases them trying to return the blood flow back to normal, only when you have enough feeling back do you pull away from her touch.
Revelling in your power to inflict pain you patronisingly inform him. “Not really but it might be interesting to hear your excuses for abandoning me and mom. Tell me dad what was more important than your family?” While you know that there is nothing he can say to calm the maelstrom of wrath churning inside of you, you crave his answers, his explanations for forcing his only child and beloved wife to exist without him.
Tears shimmer in tired eyes before they are swallowed down along with the desperation that they breed. He struggles to find his voice under the torrent of such emotion. “Nothing, you may not believe me Michael but there is nothing more important to me than you and your mother.”
“Excuse me for doubting you when you say that but you weren’t the one that had to stand by and watch as mom fall apart. You weren’t the one that had to try and pick up the pieces; I was.” The anger of an eight-year-old boy that has always lingered in the deepest part of your soul drives your fury now along with the painful recollections of tears cried into the night by a woman who had just buried the love of her life.
Annoyed by your continued obstinacy his voice drops dangerously low, menacing and warning invade his words as he makes direct eye contact to ensure you are aware of the message he is sending you. “If you want an explanation then you have to be prepared to listen.”
You give no visible sign whether you are going to listen or not but he must interpret your silence as assent. A chair that you had not previously noticed becomes occupied as a weary man stretches out his right leg. He senses you watching him hopeful that your observation is based at least partly on concern. “It’s just an old bullet wound, I’ve had it for such a long time but it’s never healed fully.”
The withering look you send him ends any hope he may have entertained regarding you softening towards him. He is noticeably disappointed but plays it off as he pulls himself up in the chair to meet eyes of fiery jade that demand the truth. “The mission I was on before I disappeared; what do you know about it?”
“Only what I read in your journal and what the CIA told us.” You keep your answers purposefully short, neglecting to mention the hours you spend at the CIA archives scouring files for any mention of your father and that fateful mission.
“The agency had sent me to Belize to follow up a lead on an important Rambaldi device that needed to be recovered. I found the cube in a mausoleum buried in it’s own casket and following my orders I prepared for my extraction. Before I could get out of the country I had a visit from another agent; who had also been tasked with the recovery of the device and my assassination.” His voice stirs you as you are transported back to the day he had left, he had promised to bring you back a gift; but as you clung to him the only thing you wished for was that he himself came back to you.
“Irina.” You sign instinctively knowing that Irina had to have played a part in why your father remained alive; but curious as to exactly the nature of her part.
“Yes Irina Derevko was the agent sent to kill me but apart from shooting me in the leg she left me unharmed. She knew about the cube, what Rambaldi had wanted to achieve with it. Although the cube can do many things including being used in conjunction with other devices as a power source it is primarily a map. It is a guide for those who can use it to the most important Rambaldi artefact the Telling. Of course I was sceptical Irina’s information didn’t collate with what the agency had told me and I couldn’t comprehend why she would give me such valuable intel; until she mentioned your name.” Again making sure that your gaze is fixed on his as he negates the importance of his words through his eyes and subtle changes in tone and volume.
“She knew all about you things that no-one else besides me and your mother could ever possibly know. When I told her I didn’t believe her she shot me, ‘a warning’ she said not to doubt her because she had proof, that there were reasons why she had come to intercept me; reasons all pertaining to you. So we made a deal I would hand over the cube and in return she would give me both answers and proof. Of course we both knew that the agency wouldn’t stop looking for me while the cube was missing, and that they would never condone a relationship between one of its agents and a KGB officer. In order to find the answers I had to dissolve my former association with the agency and leave my old life behind with the hope that one day I would be able to return.” A hope that had never come to fruition for when he had learned the truth he was still unable to return; for the danger that Michael would be placed in by those who would seek to use him.
“You talk of proof; but proof of what? You betrayed your agency and your country all because Irina told you she knew things about me. She was a spy dad did you never think that could easily have gained access to files to get that information.”
“Yes of course I thought of that; but she didn’t. What Irina revealed couldn’t be found in files or documentation they were personal things, things that nobody knew about.”
Incredulous that he had been willing to take her word as enough insurance to go against the agency that he had loyally dedicated over ten years to. “And you believed her? You believed a Russian spy and defected all because of what she said.”
His hands that have been still in his lap until this point suddenly grasp your arm, the accusation of defection pushing him to forcibly react as to enforce the truth of his words through the violence of his actions. “I never defected Michael, I never once betrayed my country but there are things that the CIA knew and purposefully kept from me that I had every right to know, but they kept it to themselves in order to fulfil their own agendas.” Clamping down on his anger he removes his hands placing them back in his lap as his control slips back into place. “Anyway in accordance with our agreement I handed over the cube to Irina, she had told me that it was not her intention to give it to the KGB but rather keep it for herself so that when the time was right it would be on hand for those who needed it.”
“On hand for what? You’re talking in riddles, just tell me what’s going on.” Your patience is wearing thin as you become more drawn in and confused with every new revelation that greets your ears.
“Be patient Michael, I am trying to explain but this tale has been thirty years in the making; it takes time to tell it all.” It is his turn to be patronising now, seeing you need his story gives him a power over you that had been yours. “When I left Belize Irina arranged my ‘death’ another CIA agent was sent back in my place. It took them two weeks to find salvageable DNA and identify the body as mine. I went to Nepal first to see a monk called Conrad, he knew what I was searching for and directed me to Florence, to a man called Lorenzo Bargia.” William pauses caught in his own reflections on a man that had changed the whole direction of his life; who had given him one of his greatest gifts but also planted the seeds for further pain and recrimination.
“When I met him he told me that he had been waiting his all his life to pass on Rambaldi’s gift to me. At first I didn’t know what to make of him, Conrad had assured me that no one would know of my visit to Bariga. The old man just smiled as he handed over two figures, one of the Angel Gabriel and the other was Saint Peter, the messenger and the protector he called them. As I examined them I saw on both of the bases a tiny insignia of a circle and two arrows facing away from each other.”
“The eye of Rambaldi.”
“Yes, that’s what Bargia told me it was called then he took the figures from me with a reverence that I have only seen when mothers hold their children; he smashed them against each other until all that remained were two scrolls, these he handed back to me and smiling again he left me alone. Although I was anxious to read I couldn’t open them; a strange feeling stopped me, at the time I couldn’t have said what it was but now in hindsight I know it was dread the feeling you get when you’re on the edge of something just waiting for the plunge.” The feeling sweeps over him standing on the edge of the abyss waiting for the action to occur just as he had that day. A similar feeling in telling Michael the truth fills him today, as unknowing and unprepared for the outcome as he had been twenty-five years previously.
“So I left them unopened until I met Irina in Minsk. We each took one scroll and tried to open them but were unable to. Frustrated Irina asked me about the figures, hearing that my scroll came from the messenger she asked for it whilst giving the other back to me. This time we were able to open them and I saw on that parchment all the answers that I had been searching for. There was a picture, well more of an exact portrait of the subject discussed in the text, it was like looking in the mirror so much that I knew that it was a drawing of me, but I noticed differences slight though they were they lessened the chances of it being me. I knew then why I had been dreading finding proof of what Irina had alluded to in Belize, the answer to my biggest question was finally answered today when I saw you. The drawing on the scroll was of you Michael, you just as you are right now.”
“What? That’s impossible why would there be a picture of me?”
“Because the scroll of the protector is about you Michael, it’s a prophecy about you. You are the Guardian. Page Eleven of the Rambaldi text is the sister piece to the page that Irina opened, the messenger scroll is more commonly known as Page Forty-Seven. I saw the picture of Sydney and read the fate that would befall the Chosen One.”
“But we found the loop hole Sydney has seen the sky of Mount Subasio, she’s not the Chosen One.”
She is so matter-of-fact in accepting her fate as she confirms for you. “Yes I am Michael we didn’t ever disprove that I was, there is no loop hole in the prophecy.”
Struggling to allow the knowledge that your actions to save her from the DSR were all useless you are too thrown to offer any reply that makes much sense. “But Syd you can’t be…we…I…”
Aware of your confusion and doubt your father tries to comfort you with his words, praying that they ease your mind. “You’ve read the prophecy Michael; you should know better than to doubt the validity of words whose truth you have lived through.”
Anger bursts through as you are forced to recollect the memories that he so casually invokes without ever having to live through them. “Who’s truth? Some fifteenth century psychopath who was burned at the stake for heresy. Why the hell should I believe?” ‘Why the hell should I believe in anything!’ your mind screams as images of fire and ashes assail you, the charred smell that clung to your skin no matter how harshly you scrubbed at it. That night had stolen not only Sydney but your faith also, the two were extinguished with one foul blow.
And here she stands your love and faith telling you that you must accept what you have been told. Asking with luminous brown eyes that you let go of your reservations as she has done. “Because you know it’s the truth, I know you don’t want to believe, that you want to fight it. But you can’t; this is a fight that you would never be able to win. Just as I am the Chosen One you are the Guardian; Michael.”
“Are you listening to what you’re saying Sydney? You never believed in Rambaldi why do you now?”
“Because you have been my guardian since the first day I met you, willingly you adopted the role of my protector without any one ever having to ask you. Because we’ve seen things that can be explained no other way. The device in Mexico City we both saw that, the devastation that it caused.”
“I was your handler Sydney it was my job to protect you, to keep you alive.”
“It was always more than a job to you, you went out of your way to help me risking your life and for what Vaughn, not for causes you believed in, but because you had to because it became a compulsion to save me.” She is correct in what she says you have always gone above and beyond the call of duty for her and you always will because you cannot do any less and love her as much as you do.
“So if I’m the Guardian what do I have to do?” Such a flippant question your father thinks, you can see as much when you meet his gaze. To you however cynicism is a perfectly natural reaction when talking about prophecies, fate and destiny all words that had not existed in your vocabulary before October first when a Day-Glo redhead with a swollen mouth crashed into your life.
“You are the reason that the Chosen One fights, you are her purpose just as she is yours. Only together can you stop those who are insistent on taking power, that is your destiny,
Sydney is your destiny she always has been.” He pauses as he watches the look you share with Sydney, while you have never denied your love for her you struggle with the notion of it being fated or predestined; the idea of so much suffering occurring just so the two of you could come together is unthinkable. Pleased with the love he observes William resumes his explanation. “The two of you have to stop those who have twisted Rambaldi’s master vision to their own nefarious ends, you know those of who I speak, the men who will stop at nothing to achieve the endgame. Rambaldi designed his machines with thoughts of peace and the creation and maintenance of a utopia where war would be obsolete and aggression would have been bread out of the human race because it was redundant. You have seen for yourselves where this quest has lead men that are not strong enough to overcome the darkness that dwells within them. It is not the vision that is tainted but it is the men rather who have sought to make it so. But you and Sydney have to power to stop it, to put an end to all the evil that Rambaldi’s inventions have wrought. But to do this you must first activate the cube so the Telling can be located.”
“You have the cube though right? Irina has it safe doesn’t she?” The analytical brain that Sydney had always admired is on show as you try to make sense of all that you have heard so far.
Regretfully with a bent head William informs them “she did but we have not had the cube the entire time, the CIA, the DSR and the most recently the Covenant have all possessed it at some point. We do have it now however in a secure location, tomorrow we will leave…”
Unable to understand where he has gotten the idea that you are willing to partake in this you hastily question. “What we? You can’t seriously expect me to just take your word in all this.”
The ghost of a smile plays upon his lips, he had expected your resolute denials when you lacked proof. So much like him in your unwillingness to take anything at hearsay relying instead on facts and figures before you are willing to believe. “No I never thought that you would; that’s why I bought this for you to see.” Pulling a yellowed parchment from his inside jacket pocket; his attention fixates on the object unwilling to let you hold his prized possession he holds it for you to read.
Stunned by the likeness of the image you do not pay much attention to the text, only accepting now that you have seen for yourself that your father was correct. “How long have you known? Why the hell didn’t you tell me Sydney I had a right to know.” Cut out of the conversation as you turn to Sydney for the answers that your father has not able to satisfy with his account. In your rage you do not realise that Sydney will be unable to answer them also, that is not her that deserves the brunt of your resentment. William uneasily makes his exit wishing to not be present for the fallout that his words have created.
Sydney’s cool response does reach his ears however and he is momentarily lightened with joy that his son has found such a woman to spend his life with. “I was going to tell you Vaughn but it’s been kind of hectic since I got back. I wasn’t expecting the call to come through as quickly as it did, I was hoping for time to tell you everything, for us to be able to sit down and talk it through. But ask yourself Michael as angry as you are now would it have been any easier if I told you he was alive, that he’s been out there the whole time and never once tried to contact you or see you. Would that have been easier or would it have hurt just as much? I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, after everything we’ve been through already I didn’t want to be the one to shatter your illusions of your father. I love you too much to have done that Vaughn.” Her impassioned words and silent pleas for your understanding fall on deaf ears as you can only view her now as another person who has betrayed your trust.
You convey as much when devoid of any emotion or warmth your scoffing reply cuts through the tension mounting exponentially between the two of you. “You love me too much, do you even know what real love is Sydney? It’s not keeping secrets from each other. You’re just as much of a stranger as he is, the Sydney I knew would never have…”
“The Sydney you knew!” She turns on so rapidly you flinch in preparation of an attack that never comes, you find however the abject heartbreak written on her face hurts you more than any bodily wound ever could. “I am the Sydney you knew, I’m still the same person
Vaughn and you of all people should know that. I know what this is about Vaughn your stupid male pride; you can’t stand the thought that I was trying to protect you can you? Because that’s what I was trying to do; you’re not the only one who’s gone through this, I know better than anyone what that kind of betrayal feels like. But you’re not the only one who’s suffering and you’re not the only one going through something life changing I am too but you’re too consumed with your own hurt to see anything beyond that.”
As she turns to go you realise the truth in what she says, tears that she makes no attempt to hide fall heavily with the sorrow that your words impart. Only with her shoulders slumped and her back turned to you do you see her as she truly is; vulnerable, just as she was days ago when you held her in your arms and promised to never let go.
With the remorse for your actions clear in your tone; you call to her begging for a forgiveness only she can offer. “Sydney please…don’t go…it’s just…tell me what to do please…I…I can’t…” The words succumb to the heavy silence so smothered that you cannot continue.
Three steps and she is beside the bed cradling you as sobs rack your frame. “Oh baby it’s ok…I’ve got you Michael, it’ll be ok I promise. I’ll make it all better.” As she speaks the words you are calmed by the sincerity and promise that you hear. She tightens her grip on you as you automatically do the same and you know that this time neither of you will ever let go.
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless;
That only men incredulous of despair,
Half-taught in anguish, through the mid-night air
Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access
Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness,
In souls as countries, lieth silent-bare
Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare
Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express
Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death-
Most like a monumental statue set
In everlasting watch and moveless woe
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.
Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:
If it could weep, it could arise and go.
~TBC~
**The quotes in this chapter are taken from ‘A sea-side walk’ and ‘Grief’ both by Elizabeth Barrett Browning**
Long time coming or just plain long?? I know what I think!!
Icklebit aka Jady T
UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE UPDATE!!!!!!
