Title: Out of Control
Disclaimer: It just took me three attempts to try and spell disclaimer right. :lol: Do I look like I'm capable of owning something as cool as Alias?
Summary: Sydney is presumed dead, having being kidnapped and successfully brainwashed by the Covenant, and now believes that she's a ruthless killer by the name of Julia Thorne. Vaughn rejoins the CIA after one and a half years since she "died". What happens when Julia and Vaughn cross paths?
A/N: Holey moley... Why am I even posting this? :blink: *runs away screaming*
But I guess... Feedback's good. Honest feedback's even better... If anyone even reads this...
AHHH! I should just post this. Overcome my fear of posting new fics. *pats myself on the back*h34r: This hasn't been beta'd either, by the way, so if I spelt something horribly wrong... *points to Word* It was the paperclip! It was all the paperclip's fault! He did it!
Anyway, I'll just uh... Go back to my corner or something now. YAY! CORNER!
Cai
x
ps. I know it's short... Just uh... Deal with me here. *nods*
I've done everything as you say
I've followed your rules without question
I thought it would help me see things clearly
But instead of helping me to see
I look around and it's like I'm blinded
I'm spinning out of control
Out of control
I'm spinning out of control
Out of control
-- Hoobastank, Out of Control
She has but a memory of her past. She just does what they tell her, ruthless, yet carrying herself with such grace that suggested she wasn't a cold-blooded killer, yet she was. Her stride is defiant and confident, her stride screams Sydney Bristow.
***
Michael Vaughn stood alone. The whispers of the wind and sea devoured the silence around him, but to him, the silence remained.
Sydney…
He had never gotten over her death. Still had the faint belief that his Sydney was alive and was out there somewhere, but that belief was being dissipated as the months trickled by. Eighteen months she's been gone for, he reminded himself. Eighteen agonising months, has he managed to live without Sydney, and he decides to face reality after these past eighteen months.
Sydney isn't coming back.
Tears threaten to spring to his eyes, as he reminds himself she'll always be a part of his past. She isn't coming back. The four words resound in his mind, over and over, until it sparks the anger built up inside of him and he lets it all out in a screaming fit of rage.
At night, he sleeps alone. Wonders if he'll ever regain that sense of… Well, anything in his life. He yearns to feel, to feel anything. He reasons with himself, any feeling is better than no feeling. Yet still, there is no feeling.
He dreams of her at night. The familiar voice whispering in his ear, her warm breath lingering on his collarbone. In his dreams, he reaches out for her, but the second his fingertips graze her skin, she's gone. So repetitive are these dreams that he teaches himself to be content with just watching her from a short distance away, but as he watches, she walks away, and once again, she's gone.
He always awakes, frustrated and yearning to have slept longer, to have remained in her presence, though non-existent. He finds himself alone.
This is the world Michael Vaughn lives in.
***
Vaughn rejoins the Agency.
He pretends to do so to project the façade that maybe Michael Vaughn has moved on without Sydney Bristow. A pretence, he likes to call it. So that what he has left of his friends and family will stop worrying for his well being, and continue happily on with their lives, as if nothing has happened. But he knows better. He knows he's rejoined because it makes him feel closer to Sydney.
***
She throws herself into her work, as does he. They have nothing left without their significant other. They have no purpose. Relentlessly, they work, putting all they're worth into their efforts, only to come home at the end of the day and collapse, exhausted.
She has no memory, unlike he, of the past they shared. It's all a blur. It spares her of all the pain he has to endure, and in a way, she's thankful.
He however, welcomes the pain with open arms. Any feeling is better than none.
***
They're sending him to Russia tomorrow. Something to do with Rambaldi or something-or-other, he reminisces, or tries to, because it's all a blur.
Drinking is frowned upon the night before a mission, but he doesn't care. He needs something to drown his oblivion, he reasons with himself, as he reaches for the shot of vodka.
And something to drown his frustration.
And something to drown his anger.
And something to drown his misery he feels without Sydney by his side.
Damn Milo Rambaldi for screwing up my life…
***
In Russia, with deft precision and skill, he obtains the godforsaken object that was created by the man that ruined his life. He's tempted to simply smash whatever-the-hell it was, but he restrains himself.
Footsteps quickly approach, and with a carefully placed blow, he knocks out the individual.
Carefully slipping off the mask that shields her identity, Michael Vaughn is faced with the last person, and yet only person in the world he ever wanted to see again. Sydney Bristow.
TBC...?
Links to chapters (so that you don't have to read through the babble)—
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
Disclaimer: It just took me three attempts to try and spell disclaimer right. :lol: Do I look like I'm capable of owning something as cool as Alias?
Summary: Sydney is presumed dead, having being kidnapped and successfully brainwashed by the Covenant, and now believes that she's a ruthless killer by the name of Julia Thorne. Vaughn rejoins the CIA after one and a half years since she "died". What happens when Julia and Vaughn cross paths?
A/N: Holey moley... Why am I even posting this? :blink: *runs away screaming*
But I guess... Feedback's good. Honest feedback's even better... If anyone even reads this...
AHHH! I should just post this. Overcome my fear of posting new fics. *pats myself on the back*
h34r: This hasn't been beta'd either, by the way, so if I spelt something horribly wrong... *points to Word* It was the paperclip! It was all the paperclip's fault! He did it! Anyway, I'll just uh... Go back to my corner or something now. YAY! CORNER!
Cai
x
ps. I know it's short... Just uh... Deal with me here. *nods*
Chapter One
I've done everything as you say
I've followed your rules without question
I thought it would help me see things clearly
But instead of helping me to see
I look around and it's like I'm blinded
I'm spinning out of control
Out of control
I'm spinning out of control
Out of control
-- Hoobastank, Out of Control
She has but a memory of her past. She just does what they tell her, ruthless, yet carrying herself with such grace that suggested she wasn't a cold-blooded killer, yet she was. Her stride is defiant and confident, her stride screams Sydney Bristow.
***
Michael Vaughn stood alone. The whispers of the wind and sea devoured the silence around him, but to him, the silence remained.
Sydney…
He had never gotten over her death. Still had the faint belief that his Sydney was alive and was out there somewhere, but that belief was being dissipated as the months trickled by. Eighteen months she's been gone for, he reminded himself. Eighteen agonising months, has he managed to live without Sydney, and he decides to face reality after these past eighteen months.
Sydney isn't coming back.
Tears threaten to spring to his eyes, as he reminds himself she'll always be a part of his past. She isn't coming back. The four words resound in his mind, over and over, until it sparks the anger built up inside of him and he lets it all out in a screaming fit of rage.
At night, he sleeps alone. Wonders if he'll ever regain that sense of… Well, anything in his life. He yearns to feel, to feel anything. He reasons with himself, any feeling is better than no feeling. Yet still, there is no feeling.
He dreams of her at night. The familiar voice whispering in his ear, her warm breath lingering on his collarbone. In his dreams, he reaches out for her, but the second his fingertips graze her skin, she's gone. So repetitive are these dreams that he teaches himself to be content with just watching her from a short distance away, but as he watches, she walks away, and once again, she's gone.
He always awakes, frustrated and yearning to have slept longer, to have remained in her presence, though non-existent. He finds himself alone.
This is the world Michael Vaughn lives in.
***
Vaughn rejoins the Agency.
He pretends to do so to project the façade that maybe Michael Vaughn has moved on without Sydney Bristow. A pretence, he likes to call it. So that what he has left of his friends and family will stop worrying for his well being, and continue happily on with their lives, as if nothing has happened. But he knows better. He knows he's rejoined because it makes him feel closer to Sydney.
***
She throws herself into her work, as does he. They have nothing left without their significant other. They have no purpose. Relentlessly, they work, putting all they're worth into their efforts, only to come home at the end of the day and collapse, exhausted.
She has no memory, unlike he, of the past they shared. It's all a blur. It spares her of all the pain he has to endure, and in a way, she's thankful.
He however, welcomes the pain with open arms. Any feeling is better than none.
***
They're sending him to Russia tomorrow. Something to do with Rambaldi or something-or-other, he reminisces, or tries to, because it's all a blur.
Drinking is frowned upon the night before a mission, but he doesn't care. He needs something to drown his oblivion, he reasons with himself, as he reaches for the shot of vodka.
And something to drown his frustration.
And something to drown his anger.
And something to drown his misery he feels without Sydney by his side.
Damn Milo Rambaldi for screwing up my life…
***
In Russia, with deft precision and skill, he obtains the godforsaken object that was created by the man that ruined his life. He's tempted to simply smash whatever-the-hell it was, but he restrains himself.
Footsteps quickly approach, and with a carefully placed blow, he knocks out the individual.
Carefully slipping off the mask that shields her identity, Michael Vaughn is faced with the last person, and yet only person in the world he ever wanted to see again. Sydney Bristow.
TBC...?
Links to chapters (so that you don't have to read through the babble
)—Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Epilogue
I dunno. BUT I LOIKE IT!
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