Vivian Heights

A KGB agent sets off to infiltrate the CIA... through the heart of an officer. (Sounds familiar? Maybe but it's a new generation.)

She looked over the folder in her hands for the umpteenth time, making sure she knew everything there was to know about the subject.

The KGB had definitely been, if nothing else, thorough. The folder was 427 pages long… just about the life, interests, job, and values of a Michael C. Vaughn and, after looking through a copy of the hacked CIA profile, she decided that she probably knew more about him than anyone else on the planet.

She mused over his history and how he had still managed to become the man he was now.

It was a good feeling. Finally, after her 10 years, she was given the chance to infiltrate an agency through an agent that might be an even match. No more 50 year old, pot-bellied agents to seduce.

A lean, handsome, 32 year old CIA agent with a family tragedy and a romantic interest.

And those little glitches always made life so much more interesting. She had studied the 25 pages about Sydney Bristow very carefully and, after she was done, conceded that, though there was something special about her, brilliance could be copied. Easily.

The KGB knew that something was different about her too. That maybe her job was a little different. But those papers were kept meticulous and out of reach for anyone who tried to get their hands on them.

The fact that Sydney was a double agent was not written anywhere.

So she stood up and looked in the mirror. She detested this part of the job… having to become someone else to make a man fall in love with you.

But this time would be different. Because in the end, the effort would be worth it.

She let down her newly dyed brown hair and quickly walked to the counter to get the scissors.

Carefully, she cut her hair an inch or two below the shoulders and smiled at the finished product.

Her hair at least, was a dead match. Medium length, it was dead straight.

She took out her make up case and peered closer at her reflection. She was a beautiful woman. No one could deny that.

But was she the same kind of beautiful that Mr. Vaughn found so enticing?

She had to be.

Expertly, she shaded in her cheeks, almost imperceptibly changing their form and lifting them a little higher.

After outlining her lips and altering them slightly to form the desired shape, she put in the contacts.

And she was done. She had been chosen specifically for her ability to be a chameleon and the fact that she was the same size and build as Sydney didn't hurt.

She looked into the mirror one last time and then at the picture in her hand.

They could have been sisters, if not twins.

She smiled at her work.

She would be the Sydney Bristow that he could actually have.

~:~

Now, she had to be sweet but not too sweet. Friendly but with an edge.

That would be the hard part. Because Bristow didn't fit into any stereotype. She wasn't shy and docile nor was she loud-mouthed and arrogant. She was wary of people she had just met but to those that had her trust, she was the sweetest person alive.

Vivian could do that. She could act like that. So she practiced. "Hi, I'm Vivian."

She put out her hand to the imaginary Michael in front of her. "Vivian Heights. Nice to meet you."

She lowered her pitch of voice a tad and tried again. "Hi, I'm Vivian Heights."

Perfect.

~:~:~

He was walking down the street, heading towards the supermarket. Dressed casually in a sweatshirt and jogging pants, he was definitely a gorgeous man.

She went inside and picked a cart. She was suddenly glad she had opted to go with the jogging suit. It would show him both that she enjoyed jogging, which her body would attest to, and that they both had the same idea of what casual wear was.

He walked in through the double glass doors and her mind immediately went into strategic mode.

 Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him heading towards the fruit. Quickly planning strategy and guessing his route, she headed towards the dairy section and, after putting a gallon of milk and a pack of cheese in her cart, placed it partially hidden between aisles as she looked at the pasta.

And he was coming towards her. She smiled to herself.

She had always scored rather well at guessing games.

So a split second before he turned into the dairy aisle, she pushed her cart forward.

And the ball was in his court from then on.

After saying a quick and hurried "I'm so sorry," she bent down immediately to pick up some of the oranges that had toppled from the cart.

She knew that to him, she sounded and looked exactly like Sydney Bristow. She wanted him to think that for as long as he could so took her time gathering the fallen fruit.

"Syd?" The word was soft, and even after it was spoken, was cut off as soon as he remembered that he wasn't supposed to know Sydney Bristow.

But the woman bent in front of him didn't answer and, for a second, Vaughn was confused. It was Sydney wasn't it? After all, that was her hair, and she was that size, and she had that jogging outfit… and it sounded exactly like her.

The woman looked up and Vaughn felt his breath catch in her throat.

My God, there's two of them.

TBC…

Well? Like it? Hate it? Hate it but want me to continue anyway?

I actually got the idea for this fic from a dream so I can't judge how good or bad it might be.

Let me know…

PS. Chapter 22 of An Undefinable Sweetness IS up for those who are confused.

Thanks,

Jenn