BESTSHOWONTV
Cadet
This is a story that I had the idea for a while ago, and I just realized that it'd work well for an fanfic.
Title: Parallels
Author: BESTSHOWONTV
Rating: PG-13
Ships: S/V, and I may do some W/N. Possibility of some J/I, but I'm not sure yet.
Beta: vartansgurl4lf
Summary: Sydney's almost completely recovered from the car accident in Before the Flood. She gets called in for a meeting at APO and gets a massive shock.
A/N: I had this idea for a while, and I finally realized it'd work for a fan fic. It's going to be LARGELY Sci-Fi, and it starts off angst. The setting of Post-Before the Flood is really because I had an idea of how to start it and I decided to go ahead with it.
Chapter 1
Sydney's POV
The phone is ringing; it has been ringing off and on for the past two weeks. I glance sideways at it, knowing full well who’s on the other end of the line. In my heart, I yearn to pick up the handset, to listen to his deep, reassuring voice as he whispers in my ear that all will be well. I want to run back to him, feel his tight embrace, and never leave him. Yes, I want all of that, but whenever I remember what he said before the accident, I know that I can’t allow myself to give into my desires.
My hand wanders over to the handset, which I lift only enough for the button to spring up, and then I let it go again, silencing the incessant noise. I enjoy the few minutes of silence before the phone shrieks, causing me to repeat the cycle.
“Well, for starters, my name isn’t Michael Vaughn.” Those words still echo in my ears, never leaving. I want to move on, but I can’t force myself to take those first steps.
I glance at the clock, amazed that it’s already 2:00. Grabbing the cane from beside the couch, I struggle to get up and walk over to the freezer. Pulling out the package of hot dogs, I grab a sharp knife and pierce the plastic that holds all eight together. Pulling out two, I toss them haphazardly into a dish, fill it with some water, and put it into the microwave and start it.
The phone rings again. Three rings later, I hear my answering machine click on, and I hear his voice as he records his message. “Syd, we need to talk. Please, Syd, just pick up the phone.” A click signals the end of the message. Walking over as quickly as I can, given my injuries, I press the delete button and go back to waiting by the microwave as my hot dogs finish cooking.
As I sit down, the phone rings again. I’d change my number if I thought it’d do any good. I notice that I’ve forgotten the bun and the toppings, so I get up again, grab what I need and sit down again. Using a fork to get the meat out of the steaming water, I place it in the bun and then put on the ketchup and mustard. I curse as some of the mustard falls on my… actually, I should say Vaughn’s, or whatever the h*** his name is’s shirt. Getting up, I wet a paper towel and blot at the spot, but I know there’ll be a stain.
Another ring penetrates the silence that I have learned to enjoy over the past few weeks, but this ring is different. This ring is the ring of my cellphone, which is to be used only for business. I unclip it from my waist and look at the display. It’s Dad calling.
Though there had been a rift between us earlier this year, since Dad found out about Vaughn’s, or whatever the h*** his name is’s duplicity, he’s been the one person that I know that I can lean on. He’s been through the same thing with Irina; therefore I know I can trust him completely in this situation. “Hey,” is all I say, letting him know I’m there.
“Hello, Sydney.”
“You’re calling me on my cell phone. Is this something business related?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I need you to come in. It’s important.”
“Will ‘Vaughn’ be there?”
“Sydney, when I told Director Chase what Vaughn told you, it became apparent that she knew what he was talking about. She doesn’t feel that his secret is a threat to national security, so I wasn’t able to get him discharged from APO. Yes, Sydney, he’ll be there.”
“Dad, I…I can’t.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice in this. Sydney, you are ordered to report for this briefing. It directly concerns you.”
“Do you know…Dad?”
“That man’s secret?”
“Yeah. Do you know what it is?”
“Director Chase didn’t tell me. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
“When’s the meeting?”
“It starts whenever you arrive. Take your time. I love you, Sydney.”
A lone tear comes to my eye. “I love you, too, Dad.”
I walk into my bedroom, noticing the pile of clothes that I took out of Vaughn’s drawer. I still think of him as Vaughn, I think to myself. Changing quickly, I go out to the garage adjacent to the apartment and grab a box. I thoroughly go through my apartment, finding everything of his, and putting it in the box.
When I’m sure I’ve eradicated him from my apartment, I take the box out to my car and prepare to leave.
I pull up at the parking lot by the subway minutes later, and carrying the box, struggle to descend the steps, and enter the door, marked Authorized Personnel Only. Successfully clearing all the security protocol, I enter the hallway that leads to the underground bunker. I take some time to reacquaint myself with some of my coworkers before walking into the meeting room, where he sits. I put the box down by the door and walk over to the empty chair that I know is reserved for me.
Dad looks at the group and nods slightly before beginning. “We received a transmission today that requires our immediate attention." Jack pushes a button and the audio plays through the speakers.
“We need your help!” the woman on the tape says frantically. “Scientists have predicted that the magnetic field is about to reverse. Should that happen, the Earth’s magnetosphere, which helps prevent gamma and X-rays from space would disappear, allowing for the complete power of the sun to bake Earth’s surface, killing every living thing. We need a location to evacuate to. Should we stay on our planet, it’ll be the end of the world. Please help us.”
The transmission ended.
“I don’t get it,” I say, confused. “I thought you said this directly affected me.”
“It does,” Dad says, his face nondescript, but what else is new.
“How?”
“Marshall?”
He stands up before the crowd, and I listen intently as he begins. “Well, Ms. Bristow, it is Ms. Bristow right? It’s not Mrs. Vaughn is it?”
“It’s Ms. Bristow,” I say holding up my bare ring finger, not only for Marshall’s confirmation, but to show him that I’m no longer wearing his ring.
“Okay, then. Ms. Bristow…Sydney, we ran a voice print analysis of the speaker, trying to find out who sent it, and here’s the thing, when it was completed, the results came up with you being the speaker.”
“What?”
“Sydney Bristow recorded that message.”
“I never recorded that. Where’d the transmission come from?”
Marshall swallowed hard.
“Marshall?” I ask, somewhat scared.
“The transmission,” he begins with a sigh. “The transmission came from outer space.”
…TBC…
Title: Parallels
Author: BESTSHOWONTV
Rating: PG-13
Ships: S/V, and I may do some W/N. Possibility of some J/I, but I'm not sure yet.
Beta: vartansgurl4lf
Summary: Sydney's almost completely recovered from the car accident in Before the Flood. She gets called in for a meeting at APO and gets a massive shock.
A/N: I had this idea for a while, and I finally realized it'd work for a fan fic. It's going to be LARGELY Sci-Fi, and it starts off angst. The setting of Post-Before the Flood is really because I had an idea of how to start it and I decided to go ahead with it.
Chapter 1
Sydney's POV
The phone is ringing; it has been ringing off and on for the past two weeks. I glance sideways at it, knowing full well who’s on the other end of the line. In my heart, I yearn to pick up the handset, to listen to his deep, reassuring voice as he whispers in my ear that all will be well. I want to run back to him, feel his tight embrace, and never leave him. Yes, I want all of that, but whenever I remember what he said before the accident, I know that I can’t allow myself to give into my desires.
My hand wanders over to the handset, which I lift only enough for the button to spring up, and then I let it go again, silencing the incessant noise. I enjoy the few minutes of silence before the phone shrieks, causing me to repeat the cycle.
“Well, for starters, my name isn’t Michael Vaughn.” Those words still echo in my ears, never leaving. I want to move on, but I can’t force myself to take those first steps.
I glance at the clock, amazed that it’s already 2:00. Grabbing the cane from beside the couch, I struggle to get up and walk over to the freezer. Pulling out the package of hot dogs, I grab a sharp knife and pierce the plastic that holds all eight together. Pulling out two, I toss them haphazardly into a dish, fill it with some water, and put it into the microwave and start it.
The phone rings again. Three rings later, I hear my answering machine click on, and I hear his voice as he records his message. “Syd, we need to talk. Please, Syd, just pick up the phone.” A click signals the end of the message. Walking over as quickly as I can, given my injuries, I press the delete button and go back to waiting by the microwave as my hot dogs finish cooking.
As I sit down, the phone rings again. I’d change my number if I thought it’d do any good. I notice that I’ve forgotten the bun and the toppings, so I get up again, grab what I need and sit down again. Using a fork to get the meat out of the steaming water, I place it in the bun and then put on the ketchup and mustard. I curse as some of the mustard falls on my… actually, I should say Vaughn’s, or whatever the h*** his name is’s shirt. Getting up, I wet a paper towel and blot at the spot, but I know there’ll be a stain.
Another ring penetrates the silence that I have learned to enjoy over the past few weeks, but this ring is different. This ring is the ring of my cellphone, which is to be used only for business. I unclip it from my waist and look at the display. It’s Dad calling.
Though there had been a rift between us earlier this year, since Dad found out about Vaughn’s, or whatever the h*** his name is’s duplicity, he’s been the one person that I know that I can lean on. He’s been through the same thing with Irina; therefore I know I can trust him completely in this situation. “Hey,” is all I say, letting him know I’m there.
“Hello, Sydney.”
“You’re calling me on my cell phone. Is this something business related?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I need you to come in. It’s important.”
“Will ‘Vaughn’ be there?”
“Sydney, when I told Director Chase what Vaughn told you, it became apparent that she knew what he was talking about. She doesn’t feel that his secret is a threat to national security, so I wasn’t able to get him discharged from APO. Yes, Sydney, he’ll be there.”
“Dad, I…I can’t.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t have a choice in this. Sydney, you are ordered to report for this briefing. It directly concerns you.”
“Do you know…Dad?”
“That man’s secret?”
“Yeah. Do you know what it is?”
“Director Chase didn’t tell me. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
“When’s the meeting?”
“It starts whenever you arrive. Take your time. I love you, Sydney.”
A lone tear comes to my eye. “I love you, too, Dad.”
I walk into my bedroom, noticing the pile of clothes that I took out of Vaughn’s drawer. I still think of him as Vaughn, I think to myself. Changing quickly, I go out to the garage adjacent to the apartment and grab a box. I thoroughly go through my apartment, finding everything of his, and putting it in the box.
When I’m sure I’ve eradicated him from my apartment, I take the box out to my car and prepare to leave.
I pull up at the parking lot by the subway minutes later, and carrying the box, struggle to descend the steps, and enter the door, marked Authorized Personnel Only. Successfully clearing all the security protocol, I enter the hallway that leads to the underground bunker. I take some time to reacquaint myself with some of my coworkers before walking into the meeting room, where he sits. I put the box down by the door and walk over to the empty chair that I know is reserved for me.
Dad looks at the group and nods slightly before beginning. “We received a transmission today that requires our immediate attention." Jack pushes a button and the audio plays through the speakers.
“We need your help!” the woman on the tape says frantically. “Scientists have predicted that the magnetic field is about to reverse. Should that happen, the Earth’s magnetosphere, which helps prevent gamma and X-rays from space would disappear, allowing for the complete power of the sun to bake Earth’s surface, killing every living thing. We need a location to evacuate to. Should we stay on our planet, it’ll be the end of the world. Please help us.”
The transmission ended.
“I don’t get it,” I say, confused. “I thought you said this directly affected me.”
“It does,” Dad says, his face nondescript, but what else is new.
“How?”
“Marshall?”
He stands up before the crowd, and I listen intently as he begins. “Well, Ms. Bristow, it is Ms. Bristow right? It’s not Mrs. Vaughn is it?”
“It’s Ms. Bristow,” I say holding up my bare ring finger, not only for Marshall’s confirmation, but to show him that I’m no longer wearing his ring.
“Okay, then. Ms. Bristow…Sydney, we ran a voice print analysis of the speaker, trying to find out who sent it, and here’s the thing, when it was completed, the results came up with you being the speaker.”
“What?”
“Sydney Bristow recorded that message.”
“I never recorded that. Where’d the transmission come from?”
Marshall swallowed hard.
“Marshall?” I ask, somewhat scared.
“The transmission,” he begins with a sigh. “The transmission came from outer space.”
…TBC…