Reunion - Crossover Challenge
Late 2015, Alias/RED crossover. Jack/Victoria. Very mild spoilers for RED and the Alias series finale.
Jack listened carefully through a stethoscope as he dialed the safe’s combination. He reached the last number, and the safe sprang open. As he took the stethoscope off, though, he heard the sound of a gun being cocked just behind his head.
“Put your hands on your head and turn around, slowly,” said a voice - female and familiar.
Jack did as he was told - he wasn’t remotely concerned about the gun, but he hardly needed to broadcast that fact. “Victoria,” he said when he got a full look at his assailant. “It’s been a long time. I’d heard you were retired.”
Victoria raised her eyebrows. “Jack Bristow. I’d heard you were dead.”
Jack shrugged. “I was, for a while. Decided it wasn’t for me.”
Victoria chuckled at that. “So, what brings you here today?” Her tone was casual, but Jack knew that if their missions conflicted, she would fight him despite their history together. Victoria was nothing if not thoroughly professional.
“The book,” Jack replied, gesturing toward the safe with his chin. A Rambaldi manuscript, of course - that was all it ever seemed to be.
“Oh, excellent. I’m here for the file folders.” Victoria holstered her weapon, and Jack moved aside to allow her access to the safe. As she handed him the Rambaldi manuscript, she asked, “So, how’s your daughter?”
“She’s wonderful,” Jack said with an honest smile. “Married, two kids.” He’d mentioned Sydney before to Victoria, during their missions together in the ‘70s, but he’d never said her name.
“And your wife - Jack, I overheard things, you know, after you and I last saw each other. I am truly sorry.”
Jack shook his head. “We’ve worked things out, more or less.” His relationship with Irina remained complicated, but it was certainly better than those weeks he’d spent with Victoria in 1982. He’d been shattered, furious and grieving all at the same time, and all he could tell Victoria was that his wife had died. She’d been in a similar state of emotional distress, but all she’d confided was that the situation involved a man. Still, they’d comforted each other, more or less.
Victoria smiled. “I’ve found my own peace with things .” She held up her file folders. “Well, good luck to you, Jack. Perhaps we’ll see each other again one day.”
“Perhaps,” Jack said, allowing a touch of a smile to reach his lips.
Victoria blew him a kiss, and then was gone.
Jack listened carefully through a stethoscope as he dialed the safe’s combination. He reached the last number, and the safe sprang open. As he took the stethoscope off, though, he heard the sound of a gun being cocked just behind his head.
“Put your hands on your head and turn around, slowly,” said a voice - female and familiar.
Jack did as he was told - he wasn’t remotely concerned about the gun, but he hardly needed to broadcast that fact. “Victoria,” he said when he got a full look at his assailant. “It’s been a long time. I’d heard you were retired.”
Victoria raised her eyebrows. “Jack Bristow. I’d heard you were dead.”
Jack shrugged. “I was, for a while. Decided it wasn’t for me.”
Victoria chuckled at that. “So, what brings you here today?” Her tone was casual, but Jack knew that if their missions conflicted, she would fight him despite their history together. Victoria was nothing if not thoroughly professional.
“The book,” Jack replied, gesturing toward the safe with his chin. A Rambaldi manuscript, of course - that was all it ever seemed to be.
“Oh, excellent. I’m here for the file folders.” Victoria holstered her weapon, and Jack moved aside to allow her access to the safe. As she handed him the Rambaldi manuscript, she asked, “So, how’s your daughter?”
“She’s wonderful,” Jack said with an honest smile. “Married, two kids.” He’d mentioned Sydney before to Victoria, during their missions together in the ‘70s, but he’d never said her name.
“And your wife - Jack, I overheard things, you know, after you and I last saw each other. I am truly sorry.”
Jack shook his head. “We’ve worked things out, more or less.” His relationship with Irina remained complicated, but it was certainly better than those weeks he’d spent with Victoria in 1982. He’d been shattered, furious and grieving all at the same time, and all he could tell Victoria was that his wife had died. She’d been in a similar state of emotional distress, but all she’d confided was that the situation involved a man. Still, they’d comforted each other, more or less.
Victoria smiled. “I’ve found my own peace with things .” She held up her file folders. “Well, good luck to you, Jack. Perhaps we’ll see each other again one day.”
“Perhaps,” Jack said, allowing a touch of a smile to reach his lips.
Victoria blew him a kiss, and then was gone.