Syd (sydne_bristow) wrote in alias_cupid,
Syd
sydne_bristow
alias_cupid

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Happy V-Day danamulder!!

Happy Valentines Day danamulder! Hope you like the stuff, there are quite a few icons, a fanfic that is really long sorry, and a few blends and random stuff or something. *shrugs* the rest are all behind the cut! ^_^

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Blends:

1

Fanfic:
Play on Words 

The morning started in Lensin, Connecticut on an October morning as it would have in almost any town or principality in the world.  No particular excitement was aroused this day, as none has arisen any other day over the endless band of time in this lonely hilly locality in northern Connecticut.  Michael Vaughn had awoken earlier, to see the sun rise on this lonely school day in the Fall of 1972.  He was excited about getting to school this day because his father had returned home from a business trip the previous day bearing gifts for his only son.  Most thrilling to Michael was a small female kitten his father, William Vaughn, had bought at a pet store in Lensin after getting back to town.  Michael couldn’t wait to tell his friends of this exciting addition to his life.

 

The previous night he had become well acquainted with his new fury friend.  The cat must have been made for him, for, and as his father observed, the two became instant companions as the kitten reacted with no anxiety toward the small boy.  Michael’s favorite feature of his little creature, and perhaps Fuzie’s (for that was her name) favorite of Michael, were the eyes.  It was as if the gray eyes of Fuzie were mystically transfixed to gaze into his.  He could not wait tell his schoolmates of this enchanting cherub.


Michael shrugged off all of the normal morning duties: the brushing of teeth, bathing, and even agonizing over his wardrobe choices for the coming school day.  No, he simply brushed his hair, snatched his coat, and ran out the door, chirping to his parents as he ran a quick, “Bye!” and then disappearing.

 

Michael walked to school almost everyday.  The school was not far from his home, perhaps only a few miles distance, and he loved the excursions through vacant lots and cemeteries that could be found along the way.  This day was perfect.  The sun was rising over the beautiful Connecticut mountains, showing off their fall colors of green, bright red and orange, yellow, and brown.  It looked as if the hill were afire with color which appeared sharp and clean on this frost filled morning.  As he came in sight of the school, he heard the faint call of geese in the distance, and looked up just in time to the see the majestic creatures fly overhead.  The geese were the final brushstroke to this canvas already filled with the magnificence of the blazing colors of the mountains; they were last touch to this wondrous morning.         

 

Michael gazed upon the scene in awe, and felt an inward joy, which brought an awareness of his place in the world.  A tear almost manifested itself in his eye, but lacked the strength to develop fully and run down his cheek.  “It’s perfect!” he exclaimed, as he turned and ran to the faint laughter of his schoolmates in the playground.  His day had begun.

 

* * *

 

 

 

Jack Bristow walked into the briefing room in the Los Angeles office with the air of deep concern written on his face.  Four other people were in the room: Sydney Bristow, Michael Vaughn, Lu Chang, and Khan Baru.  He looked into the eyes of Sydney and Vaughn, then dumped the stack of papers he was carrying onto the conference table, and sat down.  Something big had come down the line, directly from Langley Virginia.

 

“I’ve just received some disturbing intelligence reports from Langley,” He started “A Rambaldi artifact has apparently turned up somewhere in a remote region of northern Kazakhstan, near Pavlodar.  This artifact or ‘device’ was designed to have immense healing powers.  It could heal anyone from almost any bacterial or viral infection.  It also had some ‘fountain of youth’ type capabilities...it could literally alter the genetic clock which causes aging, and, in the hands of an expert spiritualist slash scientist, extend the life span of a human being by as many as 200 or 300 years – or more. 

 

“I’ll take one of those” Vaughn said, with a touch of laughter.

 

“I would too” said Jack, “Only there is one problem.  The device not only acts as an incredible healing device, but paradoxically, it also acts as mechanism of death.  I think most of you in this room are familiar with the Kladova massacre, which occurred in what is now Northern Serbia in the late 16th century?”

 

Khan chirped in, “Yes, 1591...a renegade Serbian military unit slaughtered over 900 civilians in a matter of hours.”

 

“Ah, forgive me.” Jack said, and pointing with his hand to Khan, said: “This is Khan Baru, a regional expert in Slavic and Islamic affairs, and this is Lu Chang,” pointing to Lu, “an expert on Rambaldi artifacts and literature, and a former member of the Chinese Red Army.”  He then introduced Sydney and Vaughn to Khan and Lu.

 

“Anyway,” he continued, “That’s the official history of the event.  The truth is much more...unpleasant, however.  Two monks belonging to an occultic Christian sect found the device and began experimenting with it.  At first they had used it to heal small animals that they infected with an unknown bacteria – possibly bubonic plague – and they were quite successful in their application of the device.  That is where the details become vague because-”

 

“Because of a lack of survivors?” Vaughn interjected, with a cocky grin.

 

Jack was amused, but somewhat irritated. “Exactly.  Their aim was to heal several members of their convent and some of the townspeople who had contracted bubonic plague, thereby preventing another outbreak in Europe.  They were successful of course, unfortunately the device created what was said to be ‘a strange ripple in the air accompanied by a brilliant light’ which killed everything living in an area extending out from the monastery; roughly, 25 miles.  This can be confirmed even today by the presence of a 50 mile circle, visible in this satellite photo taken by a Soviet satellite in 1961.”  Jack handed each of the members of the briefing an intelligence scrapbook of disturbing words and satellite photos.  “The evidence is even more clear in this photo taken earlier today by one of our satellites.  Although it has largely regrown within the last several hundred years, you can still clearly see the differences in concentrations of vegetation.”

 

“My God” said Sydney, with an air of humility in her voice.  “Please tell me this is an academic discussion, and that this device hasn’t fallen into the hands of some rogue terrorist cell.”

 

Lu Chang, who had been silent throughout the entire briefing, spoke up, “I wish I could,” he replied, “but I’m afraid that’s impossible.”  He took a quick glance down at his watch, and looked up.  “There was one survivor.” He began, “A man known only by the name of Chaim ben Mirari.  He was a 16th century Jewish Kabalist, Christian Mystic, and even follower of the Islamic faith – a nice hodgepodge if you will – who also believed he was under the protection of the Devil.” 

 

Vaughn couldn’t resist another witty escapade, “Whoa, sounds like this guy’s got all his bases covered.”

 

Sydney glanced at Vaughn with a flirtatious eye, smiled, and looked down at her intelligence report.  

 

Jack saw the interchange, but switched his glance back at Lu: “Continue.”

 

“His name literally means ‘Life is the son of Illusions,’ It is a mix of Ancient Hebrew and Latin...and...we have been unable to ascertain the significance of this name.  But, we know that he was born simply as Daviore on a road between Paris and Calais, France.  Mr. Mirari disappeared after writing about the event, and no trace of where he was, or what he did, has ever come to light.”

 

Sydney spoke up: “What happened to the device?” 

 

“That we do know.” replied Lu, “The device was kept by Mr. Mirari until he could find three extremely ascetic and stoic Christian monks to take the device to what is now Tibet.  His intention was for them to give it to a Buddhist sect located in mountains of Tibet and leave it with them for safekeeping. From what we gather, only one of the monks made it to Tibet, but was successful in handing them the device and the writings of Mr. Mirari.  From there, all we know is that the Llama was told about it, and its powers, and had three of his own monks volunteer to take it and bury it somewhere in the west, and commit suicide, so as no record would ever be found of its location.  And that is where the trail gets cold.”   

 

“Until now.” Jack interjected.  “We believe the device is in Northern Kazakhstan because Russian intelligence reports indicate that a remote group of Islamic Kazakhs have dug up something that has immense healing powers.  The Russians have no interest in going into Kazakhstan and provoking another Chechen like war with a breakaway republic – especially one with ballistic nukes.  Therefore, we need to get in and get it out before these people realize what they have, and, intentionally or unintentionally, conduct another Kladovesque style massacre slash incident.”

 

Sydney glanced at Vaughn, and couldn’t help making the conclusion that that was why the two of them were here.  Both spoke the rare dialect of the Kazakhs in that remote area, as well as Russian, and furthermore, both had seen action in former Soviet Republics.  She looked at her father, and spoke up hesitatingly: “So what’s the fun part?”

 

Jack replied: “The fun part is, all of you in this room are going to Kasakhstan to get that device the-hell-out-of-there.” His last words clearly emphasized his desire to get this device out of Khazakhstan.  The unthinkable was possibly and unknowingly about to become a reality in a remote region of Kazakhstan.  The Pandora’s Box scenario may only be few hours away.  “This does not leave the room.” Were Jack Bristow’s final words as he looked each member in the eye...

 

* * *

 

That night at around 16:00 hours, Vaughn was preparing dinner at his home in the hills just outside of Los Angeles.  Vaughn was methodical in his preparation of his favorite dish of vegetables and fish.  He cut each stick of celery, broke each piece of broccoli, and filleted each piece of cod as if his inner being hung on a perfectly prepared portion.  The subtle crackle of perfection he could hear as they were bathed and fried in olive oil.  His preparation thus continued, and was particularly sensual to him, but, this was no longer related to the culinary act of cooking, but his thoughts drifted back to his father, and that wonderful day in the fall of 1972.  The beauty of the hills manifested itself in the ingredients lying on the cutting board of his kitchen.  The time passed quickly.  “It’s perfect.” The only words he could find.

 

Lauren was sitting on a couch reading.  She had offered to aid in the preparation of the meal, but her husband had gently refused her help.  She knew that something had come up.  His solemn demeanor gave it away the moment he had walked in that evening.  He saw her sitting there, and closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts drifting to the happy moments in their life together.  He opened his eyes and met hers, and smiled.  “Dinner is ready,” he said.

 

“It smells wonderful Michael.”

 

“Yes, it does. Thank you.”

 

He escorted her to the table, and was completely gentlemanly in his conduct.  The meal was on the table, as well as several candles, a bottle of wine, and decorative ring of red and white roses in the center of the table.  He served her first, then took his portion, and began to eat.  He figured that this would as good a time as any to tell her the news.     

 

“I have to go.” he said to his wife, in an undertone.

 

There was a rather long pause. “Work related?” she finally replied, looking into his eyes.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Ah.”  She replied with an air of understanding.  She too, worked for the Central Intelligence Agency, and she understood what his words meant.  They meant days, weeks, possibly months away from her, without the slightest perception of where or what he would be doing.  She too had spoken the same words to him, and he too had responded as she now was.

 

“It is an interesting life we lead, Michael.”

 

“It is.”

 

“Perhaps when you climb the ladder a bit, we’ll have more time together.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“I will...long for you, while you are gone.”

 

“I know you will...as I will for you.” he replied, and added with a touch of melancholy: “I love you Sy-so much, Lauren.” He almost erred in a most forbidden manner.  Why he had been thinking of Sydney at that particular moment in time he did not know.  All he knew was love.  And love was not present between his wife and himself in the time at hand.  The warm memories that filled his mind only a few moment previously, were now gone.  The memory of what is, and what could be, was all that remained.

 

“I love you too Michael.” Her words expressed the same feeling as his; yet, hers were deeper.

 

They finished their meal, and retreated to the confines of sleep.    

 

 

 

Sydney’s last night in familiar territory was less dramatic.  While Vaughn and Lauren were having dinner, she had decided to pass the time until tomorrow morning at the gym, exerting herself physically rather than mentally for the time being.  Kickboxing and martial arts were her retreat from the coming mission.  She could not retreat from her feelings for Vaughn.  Her thought dwelled on how they would be working together in Kazakhstan.  How the dangers and tribulations of the unknown would affect their relationship.  Forbidden as it was.  She reached a point where she could no longer run from the thought of her own mind, and left the gym to have what could possibly be her final meal in the security of a friendly environment.  She went to Bernard’s, an extravagant restaurant in Los Angeles.  She would spend the evening there in complete solitude.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later, at 21:00, Michael Vaughn, Sydney Bristow, Lu Chang, and Khan Baru, were in a plane flying low over the border between Uzbekistan and Kazakhstan.  They had flown out of a Coalition air base in Afghanistan a few hours earlier.  Two CIA agents had accompanied them and were briefing them on the situation in Northern Kazakhstan.  Jack Winthorp, one of the agents continued his monologue directed toward Vaughn.

 

“Your team is going in two miles outside of Ekibastuz in Northern Kazakhland.” he was yelling over the plain’s intercom system, for the noise of the engines was too loud for anyone’s voice to be recognized. He continued, “Jack Bristow has a contact in that town who will supply you with everything you will need for the extraction.  Her name is Mehwish Ali,” The agent then went on to give them all the details they would need to locate the contact.  He then paused to listen to something the pilot was telling him over the intercom.  “OK people, we’ve just crossed into Kazakhstan.”  Vaughn looked out the window, but saw nothing but darkness with an occasional solitary campfire or dim light.

 

The agent continued with details: “Alright, from Ekibastuz, you will proceed northeast to Pavlodar...take the main road, and just pay off any military convoys or bandits that stop and hassle you.  Do not use lethal force unless absolutely necessary – we don’t want to raise suspicions unless absolutely necessary.”  He repeated: “Absolutely necessary!”  The agent told them where to find the artifact.  It would be located in an old Soviet army base south of town.  Heavily guarded.  He described everything down to the minutest detail, even the very room it would be in.  Each member had been handed a map of the facility during the briefing two days earlier.  By now, the layout was ingrained in their minds like that of the Los Angeles office.  Everything the agent said was a cliché, everything he spoke they had already been told.  The plane continued toward its destination.       

 

At 01:00 they left the safety of their plane and had hit soil of the foreboding land.  They had met up with their contact without any problems, and were now on their way toward Pavlodar in a 1999 Ford Pickup.  Khan and Lu could generally pass as locals, and thus sat in the front seat.  Sydney and Vaughn sat in the back, huddled together in a wool blanket to keep warm.  This intimate situation, though desirable to both participants, was quite unsettling.  Both had feelings for one another, and both vociferated those feelings in their own minds, but never spoke of them.  Flirting glances and smiles that occurred in the security of the office did not materialize in the field.  But people as well as animals evolve and change.

 

Vaughn could no longer sit silently next to Sydney.  The warmth of her body next to his was influencing all of the thoughts in his mind.  All he saw was her face, her body, her smile, and then her eyes.  Sydney’s eyes appeared in his mind as if they transfixed to his own, much like his kitten had done all those years ago.  He knew the thoughts of his mind were no longer on their mission.  The two men sitting in the front seat became nothing more than specters in the night.  He could not keep silent any longer.

 

“You have compromised me, Sydney.”  His voice trembled, “No...not you...I have compromised this mission.  Sydney, I can’t get you out of my head.  I can’t stop thinking about you.”

 

Sydney looked into his eyes, but was not surprised at his words.  She responded:  “I have done nothing to you, or caused nothing in you that you have not caused in me.”

 

Vaughn was somewhat surprised at this response.  He had expected condemnation, not the likewise feeling that was now apparent. 

 

“Sydney, a few days ago I was having dinner with her – with my wife – and I almost spoke your name when I was talking to her...I almost said that I loved you, right to her face.  The memories I have with her are as the memories a schoolboy has of his excursions into the woods...they are only lukewarm...but they aren’t satisfying.  But you...you are as a kitten I once had...a beautiful kitten.  Her eyes...the kitten’s eyes...Sydney, they are as yours.  Sydney, I don’t love her Sydney.  I don’t.”  Vaughn let his feelings for Sydney flow from him with nothing holding them back.  His voice was trembling, and he stumbled over his words. 

 

“Vaughn” she said, “I love you, you know that...but what we have here can never be.” her voice, was also trembling.  “Vaughn, it wasn’t meant to be.  You have something very special with your wife...Vaughn”-

 

Khan interrupted them; he had opened the back window of the pickup and handed Sydney two radio transmitters.  “Put these on you two,” He exclaimed in his Indian accent, “If we get separated, these are all we have.”

 

“Thanks,” responded Vaughn, with a bored tone, for his thoughts were elsewhere.

 

They both put the transmitters on, Sydney inserted hers into a small hole in the collar of her shirt, and Vaughn stuck his into the toe of his boot.  For the moment, there was silence.  Vaughn broke it.

 

“I guess we won’t get lost now, at least from the people back in L.A.

 

“Vaughn” said Sydney, “You need to know something about your wife,” she hesitated, she did not know how to put into words what she was going to tell him.  “Vaughn”-

 

Khan interrupted again, “Alright, we need to get off the main road, we are almost to the base, check the equipment.”

 

The moment would have to wait.  Vaughn and Sydney began checking the equipment as Khan had asked.  Nothing would be easy from now on.  A great awkwardness would now exist between Vaughn and Sydney.  The road they were on became very narrow and run down.  Khan opened the window again, Vaughn heard, and became instantly annoyed:  “What the hell is it now-” his words were cut off by a quick turn of the vehicle into the trees.  Something was wrong.

 

“There’s a military convoy coming!” Khan said, in a horror filled voice.

 

A paramilitary convoy was indeed coming down the road.  Several troop transports went by, as well as three tanks.  The entire garrison at the base had been sent out to on a training exercise.  The team was beside themselves with glee.  There would only be a minimum number of guards and troops left at the old base.

 

The team was ready.  By the layout of the base, and the predictability of the drunk guards at the gate, the team saw a direct entrance as most appropriate.  The white pickup came up to the gate, and stopped next to the guard house.    

 

The guard got up, and opened the window, and said dully: “Eedenifikatsia eele razreshenye...pazhalusta.”

 

Vaughn, who was now in the driver’s seat, responded: “Zdyes!”

 

The Guard received two pistol shots to the head, the two other guards sitting in the small building got up, and reached for their Kalashnikovs, but it was too late, Khan and Lu had taken them out with short bursts from their own AKs.   The gate was secure, now the road to the rest of the base was clear.  Trees surrounded the road and the main compound, giving the agents perfect cover of movement.  The truck went up the road till the main compound was in sight, Vaughn and Sydney jumped out and headed toward the front entrance, while Khan and Lu ran to the utility building on the left to the cut the power going to most of the camp.

 

Dawn was approaching, and the sky was beginning to brighten up with the rays of the morning sun.

 

Sydney and Vaughn headed down the main hallway, which led to a second about 20 or 30 yards down from the entrance.  If their intelligence was accurate, at the end of that hallway would be a stairway, leading to a bunker.  They came to the end of the hall, and tried to open the door; it was locked.  Vaughn put a small explosive charge in the door just below the handle, and seconds later, the obstacle was no longer a problem.  The power went out 10 seconds after the explosion, Khan and Lu had been successful.  Vaughn and Sydney ran down the staircase, coming upon two soldiers going in the opposite direction.  Sydney kicked the first soldier with her left foot, knocking him to ground, then delivering a few punches to the back of his neck, while Vaughn pistol whipped the other one across the face, causing him to fall to the ground and whipping him again and again across the back of the head.

 

Lu ran out of the utility building in time to see a Soviet built T-72 blow their only means of transportation 50 yards into the air.  The convoy had returned.  Lu ran back into the utility building with a sense of horror. “Shit!” he yelled.   

 

The other two members in the bunker heard the explosion, but continued with their mission.  Surprisingly, the inside of the bunker was absent of any guards.

 

“They must have tested it!” Vaughn yelled to Sydney.

 

They were both searching with the room with night vision goggles, and both came upon a metal box in the middle of the room.  “That must be it!” Sydney said.  Some well placed explosives, and the lid was off...yes, this must be it...the inside of the box was lined with an inch of lead, and there was a small lid also made of lead.  Vaughn removed the lid, revealing a foam filled chamber inside housing a small object about the size of a coffee mug.  The object was iridescent, though there was no other source of light the bunker.  Vaughn carefully picked it up, and placed it inside of a bag lined with lead that Sydney was holding.

 

“Alright! We got it,” Sydney yelled to Vaughn.

 

“Let’s get the h-e-l-l out of here!” he replied.

 

It didn’t take the leader of this small paramilitary unit to realize that someone had sabotaged the power to almost the entire facility.  Heavy smoke was coming out of the facility.  He had 30 young Kazakhs storm the utility building to drag Khan and Lu out.  A small gun battle took place in the building, the two men who had volunteered their services to the CIA were both badly wounded in the fight, and were eventually taken, but not without inflicting some 14 casualties to their captors.  Sydney and Vaughn reached the front of the building just in time to see Khan and Lu summarily executed.

 

Sydney could only say: “Oh my God!”

 

“They blew up the truck!” Vaughn said.

 

Just at that moment three soldiers ran out of a room toward Sydney and Vaughn.  Vaughn turned around just in time, and shot one of the soldiers with his pistol, but fired sporadically at the other two and ran out of ammunition trying to hit them.  Sydney and Vaughn ran toward them to engage in a hand to hand battle for survival.  One of the soldiers managed to get a shot off, which grazed Sydney’s right arm.  She let out a moan of pain as the bullet nicked her flesh.  She pulled a knife out from here boot and rammed it right through the eye socket of one of the guards.  At that same moment, Vaughn fell to the ground and kicked the knee of the other backwards, breaking the soldier’s leg.  The young soldier let out an agonizing shriek of pain.  The two agents saw no reason to kill the soldier, letting him grovel on the floor.

 

They thought they heard soldiers slowly approaching the front of the building, so Vaughn grabbed a smoke grenade from his belt, pulled the pin, and left it on the floor.  They started back toward the other end of the building, when an RPG round came in and detonated right in front of Vaughn.  Shrapnel went in every direction, and the two were dazed for several seconds.  Vaughn was screaming; several pieces of hot shrapnel were in his right boot.  Sydney cut the laces, pulled it off, and threw it away.  They both made it to the back of the building, and ran out while eyeing all possible directions of attack.

 

Several soldiers saw and reached the back of the compound just as Sydney and Vaughn were ducking into the forest.  The two soldiers fired at the fleeing agents.  Whiz!  Sydney and Vaughn heard the shots go by their heads just as reached the safety and protection of the forest.

 

“That was a close one! Vaughn said, almost out of breath.

 

“They don’t get much closer than that!” replied Sydney. 

 

They could hear faint voices in the behind them.  The renegade Kazakhs were not going to give up their artifact without a fight.  Sydney and Vaughn conferred what their plan of action should be.

 

“We need to get to the extraction point...” Vaughn said, “It shouldn’t be in the direction that we’re going now – only eight miles from here.”

 

“Yes! But we can’t get there with them on our backs!”  Sydney pointed behind her.

 

They were a few hundred yards away from the compound now, in a densely forested area with no underbrush.  They had slackened their pace somewhat because the voices they had heard several moments before had ceased.  They came to a sharp rise in the terrain that extended about ten yards, and then dropped off slowly.  It opened into a woody area where the ground looked as if it had recently been torn up for some reason.   

 

“Ouch!”  Vaughn had stepped on a sharp stick in the ground, “Damn it!”

 

“Oh my God!” yelled Sydney,  “Mines!”  Sydney had noticed a mine only a few inches from the stick Vaughn had stepped on.  They had walked into a minefield.

 

Just at that moment, two soldiers appeared on the rise behind them, and opened fire. Sydney was hit the in the right leg below the knee. Vaughn kneeled, and turned aro

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