minirussel
Cadet
Two faces
Ship: S/V
Disclaimer: If you think I am JJ Abraham’s you are sorely mistaken do not own alias. Never have. I'm just an obsessed fan.
A/N: This is my first fic, I don't even know if I am posting this right. I read sooo much and I never post anything and it makes me feel bad. I know this is behind, but I started it this summer soooooo.... yah. It's probably not that great so I would appreciate some criticism. Also I have horrible spelling and no time so sorry. Ah yes, on with the show.
Michael Vaughn walked through the parking lot of his apartment complex and opened up the door o his blue ford focus. He gently placed the dozen blood red roses he had been holding in the back seat and climbed in. He sat there for a moment, frozen. For some reason he just could not will himself to start the car. After sitting there for at least five minutes he gave up and collapsed against the back of his seat. He was entirely too nervous. Most likely Syd (Or should I call her Lauren now? No I can’t bring myself to call her that in my head. I can’t bring myself to do that anywhere but in public.) all ready knew something was up. Of all the stupid excuses Mike…. He had to go home and change his clothes? Most of his clothes were at HER apartment! I mean, a normal person would know, and she was a spy! He hadn’t a chance. For probably the 1,000th time in just that hour he delved his hand into his pocket and fingered the velvet box with in. Michael sighed and remembered when he had first known he was going to propose.
He had come back from his de-brief and gone straight to Syd’s so they could begin their trip to Santa Barbara…
“Syd?” He knocked for about the third time before fishing for her spare key, in the empty flowerpot by the door. Where was she? Click. He pushed open the door. Oh god. “Syd?” His voice was tight with fear. There was blood every where, glass every where, tables were over turned, cabinets were broken. “Syd?” He was screaming it now, walking quickly through the hallway after checking the living room and kitchen. He threw open the door to Fran’s room but there was nothing there. It was clean. He knew it would be. He knew the answer he was dreading lay in Sydney’s room at the end of the hall. It’s where the blood and glass, and fear led him. Light peeked out from the crack under the door. It felt as if his stomach was on the edge of a cliff, about to fall off and drag his somehow connected and hopelessly strangled heart with it. “ Sydney?” quieter this time. He walked to the door and slowly opened it, he was terribly afraid of what he might find. The images from his fathers file, pictures of the body, of the murder scene, flash before his eyes. He can’t loose her too. He good reason to be afraid, when he opened the door his eyes immediately fell on Francie. Her eyes were hollow and her mouth lay open, blood pouring out of the three bullet holes in her chest. That was not the worst of it though. Not to him any way. Not three feet from her lay Sydney. Gashes, and bruises marred her perfect features and he felt like the shard of glass she lay in were ripping at his heart, his lungs, his brain. Michael’s vision blurred as he moved towards her in slow motion knelt besides her, trying to find a pulse. Please god just a whisper of one, spare her, let her be, please god please, just let her be OK please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please. If there was ever a time for a miracle... She had lost so much blood. He nearly cried out when he found one. Relief flew through him, if just for a moment. “Syd,” the broken man whispered, picking up her hand and rubbing his fingers across her knuckles, “Syd, baby, what happened to you?” He didn’t know quite what to do; every thing was so hazy. “ Please Syd, if you can hear me just give me a sign, anything.” He trailed off and held both her smaller hands in him. Her hands were so weak, in his broken down state he nearly laughed. Normally the pinkie on those hands could kill him. “Please baby; I love you. Don’t leave me.” He closed his eyes for a moment, squeezed them. “ Please?” his eyes snapped open as he felt the slightest pressure on his hand
Ship: S/V
Disclaimer: If you think I am JJ Abraham’s you are sorely mistaken do not own alias. Never have. I'm just an obsessed fan.
A/N: This is my first fic, I don't even know if I am posting this right. I read sooo much and I never post anything and it makes me feel bad. I know this is behind, but I started it this summer soooooo.... yah. It's probably not that great so I would appreciate some criticism. Also I have horrible spelling and no time so sorry. Ah yes, on with the show.
Michael Vaughn walked through the parking lot of his apartment complex and opened up the door o his blue ford focus. He gently placed the dozen blood red roses he had been holding in the back seat and climbed in. He sat there for a moment, frozen. For some reason he just could not will himself to start the car. After sitting there for at least five minutes he gave up and collapsed against the back of his seat. He was entirely too nervous. Most likely Syd (Or should I call her Lauren now? No I can’t bring myself to call her that in my head. I can’t bring myself to do that anywhere but in public.) all ready knew something was up. Of all the stupid excuses Mike…. He had to go home and change his clothes? Most of his clothes were at HER apartment! I mean, a normal person would know, and she was a spy! He hadn’t a chance. For probably the 1,000th time in just that hour he delved his hand into his pocket and fingered the velvet box with in. Michael sighed and remembered when he had first known he was going to propose.
He had come back from his de-brief and gone straight to Syd’s so they could begin their trip to Santa Barbara…
“Syd?” He knocked for about the third time before fishing for her spare key, in the empty flowerpot by the door. Where was she? Click. He pushed open the door. Oh god. “Syd?” His voice was tight with fear. There was blood every where, glass every where, tables were over turned, cabinets were broken. “Syd?” He was screaming it now, walking quickly through the hallway after checking the living room and kitchen. He threw open the door to Fran’s room but there was nothing there. It was clean. He knew it would be. He knew the answer he was dreading lay in Sydney’s room at the end of the hall. It’s where the blood and glass, and fear led him. Light peeked out from the crack under the door. It felt as if his stomach was on the edge of a cliff, about to fall off and drag his somehow connected and hopelessly strangled heart with it. “ Sydney?” quieter this time. He walked to the door and slowly opened it, he was terribly afraid of what he might find. The images from his fathers file, pictures of the body, of the murder scene, flash before his eyes. He can’t loose her too. He good reason to be afraid, when he opened the door his eyes immediately fell on Francie. Her eyes were hollow and her mouth lay open, blood pouring out of the three bullet holes in her chest. That was not the worst of it though. Not to him any way. Not three feet from her lay Sydney. Gashes, and bruises marred her perfect features and he felt like the shard of glass she lay in were ripping at his heart, his lungs, his brain. Michael’s vision blurred as he moved towards her in slow motion knelt besides her, trying to find a pulse. Please god just a whisper of one, spare her, let her be, please god please, just let her be OK please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please. If there was ever a time for a miracle... She had lost so much blood. He nearly cried out when he found one. Relief flew through him, if just for a moment. “Syd,” the broken man whispered, picking up her hand and rubbing his fingers across her knuckles, “Syd, baby, what happened to you?” He didn’t know quite what to do; every thing was so hazy. “ Please Syd, if you can hear me just give me a sign, anything.” He trailed off and held both her smaller hands in him. Her hands were so weak, in his broken down state he nearly laughed. Normally the pinkie on those hands could kill him. “Please baby; I love you. Don’t leave me.” He closed his eyes for a moment, squeezed them. “ Please?” his eyes snapped open as he felt the slightest pressure on his hand
