ILOVEALIAS27
Cadet
<span style='font-size:21pt;line-height:100%'>World of Lies</span>
Summary: This is basically the story behind the crazy ending to season four, who is Michael Vaughn and what was he doing before he met Sydney. Sorry about the grammer and spelling mistakes, I am kind of a sloppy typer.
Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing. Please don't sue.
Rating: Um...Pg-13 to be on the safe side.
Sydney
Sydney had always relied on numbers. Dates, facts, figures. They were safe, clean, perfect. Numbers couldn’t hurt you, couldn’t exclude you, couldn’t promise, really this time, to come to your birthday, and then call from the road to tell you they couldn’t make it. Everything in her life had a date, a number labeled on it. Number of birthdays her father had missed since her mother died, 21, number of birthdays Sydney had since her mother died, 22. But now there was Danny, and suddenly missed birthdays didn’t seem to matter. God, how she loved him. He was sweet, caring, funny and could make her laugh so hard. Francie loved him to, she thought he was perfect for her.
“I mean,” she always said, “You guys met in a LIBRARY, how much more perfect could it be?”
Sydney could agree more, and as they strode across the campus together, and she stared at the rugged curve of his cheek she thought she had to be the luckiest girl in the world. She had spent 986 days with this man, and every single one of them had been absolutely perfect. Suddenly Danny dropped to her knees and started looking through his bag.
Sydney dropped next to him, “Did you get those tickets?”
“Would you stand up?” he asked.
Confused, Sydney rose.
“Do you remember our first date? The man at the bowling ally?”
Sydney’s mouth began to drop, but before she could say anything, he began to sing, “Why do you build me up, buttercup, just to bring me down…”
Sydney was in shock, “Oh my…” Bells began to ring, Danny shouted at them, which made her laugh.
“Sydney, I hope you will agree to marry me, in spite of what I just did.”
She pulled him to his feet and they shared a passionate kiss.
As he stroked her cheek, Sydney knew this was the best day of her life.
Vaughn
Michael Vaughn sat at his desk in CIA headquarters twirling pens. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing of course, but when he was nervous, upset or anxious, he twirled pens and that kept him calm. His best friend Eric Weiss was sitting across from him, trying to make a card disappear. As he sat there watching his friend, a great sadness fell over him.
“He doesn’t know,” Vaughn said to himself, “none of them do.”
Everyone in this office worked for the CIA, followed them blindly, even though they killed their own agents. He thought back to that time five years ago when he first met Arvin Sloane.
***Flashback***
It had started with a phone call, a simply call direct to him through an untraceable number. The caller promised the identity of a man the CIA has assigned Vaughn to find, so Vaughn went to meet him. But the elderly, dignified man who looked like a wealthy banker was the last person Vaughn had expected to meet here today.
“Hello,” the older man extended his hand, “My name is Arvin Sloane.”
“Hello,” Vaughn looked around his surroundings, “Interesting place for a meet.”
Mr. Sloane laughed, “Well for my work, we need confidentiality and anonymity. But you will come to learn that.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“I would like you to come work for me, Mr. Vaughn.”
“I already have a job,” Vaughn pointed out, though he expected the man already knew that, “I’m an analyst with the CIA, and it pays very well.”
“They killed you father.” It was simple and direct, with no preamble, but it sent Vaughn reeling.
“Who?”
“I think you know.”
“He was a CIA agent, the CIA doesn’t kill their own agents.”
“I was there when he died,” Sloane said. “They had taken a little girl hostage, and he left his team to rescue her. The mission was complete, and everyone was safe, but the CIA didn’t like their orders disobeyed, and they killed him. I watched as the rest of the members of the team gunned him down, they tried to kill me too, but I escaped.”
Vaughn placed his knuckled on his face, trembling, he had never known how his father died, only that he was killed in the field.
Sloane placed a cell phone in his hand, “At nine o’clock tonight this phone will ring. I will need you answer by then, Mr. Vaughn.”
Vaughn shoved the phone and his pocket, but Sloane called out to him and he turned around.
“I can help you take revenge on the organization that took your father’s life and tried to take mine. I can help.”
Vaughn was back at his office within a half a hour and sat at his desk the rest of the afternoon into the evening. Suddenly a box appeared on his computer screen, he had an e-mail. Opening it, he found that it contained files, files that proved what the strange Mr. Sloane had told him today. Hate welled up in his throat and he wanted scream and cry at the same time. The CIA, the same group he had pledged to dedicate his life to helping had murdered his father. When the cell phone rang Vaughn picked it up on the first ring.
“So?” Sloane asked.
“I’m in,” Vaughn said without hesitation.
“Good, we can use you as a double agent. Keep this phone with you at all times, that is how we will contact you.”
“I understand, but, Mr. Sloane, what is the name of the group you represent?”
“SD-6.”
***End Flashback***
Ever since then Vaughn had been working to hurt the CIA in any way he could. But there were days, like today, when he hated himself, hated the bitter, evil, twisted person he had become, bent solely on revenge. Days like today were the worst days of his life.
Please tell me what you think. And replys are welcome.
Summary: This is basically the story behind the crazy ending to season four, who is Michael Vaughn and what was he doing before he met Sydney. Sorry about the grammer and spelling mistakes, I am kind of a sloppy typer.
Disclaimer: As usual, I own nothing. Please don't sue.
Rating: Um...Pg-13 to be on the safe side.
Sydney
Sydney had always relied on numbers. Dates, facts, figures. They were safe, clean, perfect. Numbers couldn’t hurt you, couldn’t exclude you, couldn’t promise, really this time, to come to your birthday, and then call from the road to tell you they couldn’t make it. Everything in her life had a date, a number labeled on it. Number of birthdays her father had missed since her mother died, 21, number of birthdays Sydney had since her mother died, 22. But now there was Danny, and suddenly missed birthdays didn’t seem to matter. God, how she loved him. He was sweet, caring, funny and could make her laugh so hard. Francie loved him to, she thought he was perfect for her.
“I mean,” she always said, “You guys met in a LIBRARY, how much more perfect could it be?”
Sydney could agree more, and as they strode across the campus together, and she stared at the rugged curve of his cheek she thought she had to be the luckiest girl in the world. She had spent 986 days with this man, and every single one of them had been absolutely perfect. Suddenly Danny dropped to her knees and started looking through his bag.
Sydney dropped next to him, “Did you get those tickets?”
“Would you stand up?” he asked.
Confused, Sydney rose.
“Do you remember our first date? The man at the bowling ally?”
Sydney’s mouth began to drop, but before she could say anything, he began to sing, “Why do you build me up, buttercup, just to bring me down…”
Sydney was in shock, “Oh my…” Bells began to ring, Danny shouted at them, which made her laugh.
“Sydney, I hope you will agree to marry me, in spite of what I just did.”
She pulled him to his feet and they shared a passionate kiss.
As he stroked her cheek, Sydney knew this was the best day of her life.
Vaughn
Michael Vaughn sat at his desk in CIA headquarters twirling pens. That wasn’t what he was supposed to be doing of course, but when he was nervous, upset or anxious, he twirled pens and that kept him calm. His best friend Eric Weiss was sitting across from him, trying to make a card disappear. As he sat there watching his friend, a great sadness fell over him.
“He doesn’t know,” Vaughn said to himself, “none of them do.”
Everyone in this office worked for the CIA, followed them blindly, even though they killed their own agents. He thought back to that time five years ago when he first met Arvin Sloane.
***Flashback***
It had started with a phone call, a simply call direct to him through an untraceable number. The caller promised the identity of a man the CIA has assigned Vaughn to find, so Vaughn went to meet him. But the elderly, dignified man who looked like a wealthy banker was the last person Vaughn had expected to meet here today.
“Hello,” the older man extended his hand, “My name is Arvin Sloane.”
“Hello,” Vaughn looked around his surroundings, “Interesting place for a meet.”
Mr. Sloane laughed, “Well for my work, we need confidentiality and anonymity. But you will come to learn that.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“I would like you to come work for me, Mr. Vaughn.”
“I already have a job,” Vaughn pointed out, though he expected the man already knew that, “I’m an analyst with the CIA, and it pays very well.”
“They killed you father.” It was simple and direct, with no preamble, but it sent Vaughn reeling.
“Who?”
“I think you know.”
“He was a CIA agent, the CIA doesn’t kill their own agents.”
“I was there when he died,” Sloane said. “They had taken a little girl hostage, and he left his team to rescue her. The mission was complete, and everyone was safe, but the CIA didn’t like their orders disobeyed, and they killed him. I watched as the rest of the members of the team gunned him down, they tried to kill me too, but I escaped.”
Vaughn placed his knuckled on his face, trembling, he had never known how his father died, only that he was killed in the field.
Sloane placed a cell phone in his hand, “At nine o’clock tonight this phone will ring. I will need you answer by then, Mr. Vaughn.”
Vaughn shoved the phone and his pocket, but Sloane called out to him and he turned around.
“I can help you take revenge on the organization that took your father’s life and tried to take mine. I can help.”
Vaughn was back at his office within a half a hour and sat at his desk the rest of the afternoon into the evening. Suddenly a box appeared on his computer screen, he had an e-mail. Opening it, he found that it contained files, files that proved what the strange Mr. Sloane had told him today. Hate welled up in his throat and he wanted scream and cry at the same time. The CIA, the same group he had pledged to dedicate his life to helping had murdered his father. When the cell phone rang Vaughn picked it up on the first ring.
“So?” Sloane asked.
“I’m in,” Vaughn said without hesitation.
“Good, we can use you as a double agent. Keep this phone with you at all times, that is how we will contact you.”
“I understand, but, Mr. Sloane, what is the name of the group you represent?”
“SD-6.”
***End Flashback***
Ever since then Vaughn had been working to hurt the CIA in any way he could. But there were days, like today, when he hated himself, hated the bitter, evil, twisted person he had become, bent solely on revenge. Days like today were the worst days of his life.
Please tell me what you think. And replys are welcome.