Title: Escape

Rating: At the moment we shall stick with a PG, but it might get up to a PG- 13, who knows

Summary: Vaughn and Sydney have been captured by Cuvee and Jack and Irina must race to save them

Notes: Yes, another one, I'm a bit stuck with the other two, so I figured do something else. This started with a song, I won't name it, but then I figured I should make it into a proper fic, so now I want reviews if you want more.

Author: If you hadn't guessed, it's me, Aeria, Aeryn, Doona, depending where you know me from. Um, if you haven't read my other two, go read them: Wish List and True Lies. I live off reviews and promise more soon if I get them. I realise this is simular to True Lies, but it won't be really, cause it is different. Oh and no prizes for guessing which song first got me started cause it is obvious.

Chapter One

I think I'm getting tired. I haven't slept properly in four days now, not since Jack came and told me we're still married, I'm not sure why it is so unsettling to me. But it is, I get into bed and lie still for as long as I can, my eyes shut tight so that anyone watching believes I am asleep, but I'm not. I am thinking, and I have come to the conclusion that I am slowly becoming weary. Not only due to my lack of sleep but also of this. Everything. My life. If I was pushed now, I think I would fall.

It's slowly getting more and more cloudy, it's like going blind, everything is blurring and it's as if it's the middle of the night sometimes, everything is black, everything the same to my eyes but in reality perhaps opposites.

I used to think that by this time in my life I would be happily married, but no one ever came to marry me. I married, that's true, but out of what I believed was a duty to my country, and it wasn't love, not for me, not when I first seduced him into the marital contract. Now, instead of lying blissfully asleep in my own house, I lie, slumber eluding me, in a cell, where no one can find me unless they are told to.

This place is colourless, hard, cold and biting. And not only in the literal sense, this place symbolises everything I am now, everything I deserve.

There are no signs of anything in my future, there is no sign as to what is in store, what might possibly come my way. There is no change here, this place is timeless and I can't hear anything coming worth waiting for, no action, or emotion, or happiness. Nothing. It's as though I am suddenly deaf, compared to what I used to be, I am suddenly unable to hear anything coming, though perhaps that is because there is nothing. I want something to come, but there isn't ever going to be something coming for me. I don't deserve it.

Everyone around me, outside these walls, has something to look forward to, something worth going towards, an ulterior motive for life. They've been found. But I'm lost, and there are no searches going on, because no one wants me to be found. I can understand that.

I want to belong, I always wanted to belong, that was the original point of joining the KGB, because it meant people could say; she is a true Russian. I wish I had a home, but all I have in this cell.

I shiver a little, it's freezing in here. I think; I haven't felt heat in a long while, not really heat, not sun, not with enough time to enjoy it. I hate this place, this person I am while at the same time it is exciting.

I don't know what I consider myself; good or bad. I appear to be good to Sydney, but under that I know there is worse. Everyone looks at each other assuming that what they see is what they get, people trained to look at people and see the real them, they look under that top, superficial layer and see beneath that. They would see the hate, the anger the evil that lies beneath. But, then, something, something else, under all of that, I feel that there is something right under that. Don't know what.

And then I have to ask, what is the difference between good and bad? It is more a majority vote as to what is wrong and right. If the entire world were to suddenly believe that killing everyone with red hair was right, they would think it was right, they would define it as being right, but then, when they realised it wasn't it would suddenly be wrong. Am I like that? Could I be one or the other depending on what everyone else thinks? Or is it a deeper knowledge that is timeless? Like my cell?

I need someone to lead me, show me, take my hand and explain all of this, take me somewhere I haven't been before, because everywhere I have been has been wrong. I need to escape, to start over. But that is impossible, I know that.

It makes no difference who, I don't care, but I need to be taken somewhere else. Need help, I don't care who takes me there, I just need something else. It will be a man without a face. But, hopefully, it will be better than all the places before. At the moment all I need is a reason to remain, I'm searching for a motive to stay, Sydney perhaps, but still I can't be sure. I can't find the face I want to find because I know that he will be faceless.

It's too difficult because, no one, not a soul, really knows me for who I am to the core. Probably. because I don't know me to the core. I wonder if anyone would ever understand me. Know me.

Nothing has gone to plan, not since I joined the KGB, it's my fault that it all went wrong, but still, it's unfair that I find myself being accused of crimes I committed, accused of being evil, when no one can really tell me what evil is. I know I'm wrong, but evil? Right now everything around me is blurred together, reds and blues joining to form purples, black and white: a million different greys, blue and yellow: green. And then it is all poured into a bucket and I'm faced with colours, each more complex than the one before. Which is me?

Despite the fact that I mock everyone, that I seem so happy with myself; no one wants to be like this. I know from experience that being alone is the only way to succeed in the world of crime, and that is why no one ever wins. Because no one wants to be alone and when you get powerful enough you get everything you want. It's a paradox. No one gets that with me though; everyone looks at me and thinks I don't want anything human.

The colours mix together more, the 2D surface gaining a third dimension and falling into the impossible. Is this what life is about? Trying to decipher the difference? Reason left me long ago, probably right after I ran my car off the pier. That was the beginning of my downward spiral that, to anyone else, looks like my rise to fame.

I don't get it. Where do I stand?

I let my eyes slit open and look up to the clock outside, ten past six. I crank my neck quickly and stand up, beginning to pace the room, looking up to the security cameras to see them following me. There is a lack of things to do in here, so I sit down and begin to rake my fingers through my hair, recalling Jack's last visit. He hadn't asked me to sign the papers for the annulment. I wonder why. Perhaps to keep his pride. Or was it something else. I roll my shoulders, quickly, a pain in my lower neck from a lack of exercise insisting I do something.

I hear the door swing open, smashing against the wall as someone enters, hurried footsteps, Jack's I decide, come down the hall and he rounds the corner, coming face to face with me as I stand and look at him. I don't see the normal revolt, hatred and anger that always crosses his face when he first gets here. The expected hardening of defences doesn't even occur, only a flicker of fear is observable.

He is breathing hard and fast as he sits down, staring at me, pleading with me, the smug smile I'd put in place falling quickly as I realise that something terrible has happened, something horrible enough to scare jack Bristow into coming to me.

He swallows before speaking, "Cuvee has Sydney and Agent Vaughn." I watch him, careful not to let any of my emotions surface, my heart beat quickening, my mouth going dry as his words slowly sink in. "Where?" I had to ask, but he shook his head.

"I asked Devlin to let you out again, to help," he's watching me carefully; trying to see if this is a set up, organised by myself. "He said no. You are the only one that can rescue her. I acknowledge that. Devlin won't. He wants to just leave it alone until we can work out where she is. All we have is a transmission stating she was being taken to Abuta, but that isn't the name of any city on the planet. I've checked myself."

He's almost rambling; it's scary to see him like this. Abuta, that rings a bell. I open my mouth to tell him but a quick shake of his head tells me to keep quiet. I do as he asks and shut my mouth, letting my eyes slide to the cameras. He looks at my, his eyes glaring, as though he is mad at himself before he starts to speak quickly, whispering letters quickly, listening for something from down the hall. I have to wonder whether this is a trap, but instead of accusing, I choose to trust him. I carefully listen, "L, P, J, R, L, O, J, U, R, C, S, D, N, H, B, R, X, R, X, U, P, L, E, E, D, B, C, H, S, H, D, E, B." Useless, no normal pattern that I can see, not simply scrambled either. He locks eyes with me, trying to see whether I understand, my eyes flicker at him, trying to ask him for more, but he turns and runs out of my view.

Guard run in from the opposite direction and I shout at them in Russian, just swearing, nothing worth them looking over. Jack obviously expects me to work out exactly what he said without a pencil or paper and it must be hard enough to keep the CIA fooled long enough. Carefully I turn and sit down in the middle of my cell, I already know that Cuvee's message stating Abuta is a scrambled form of Tubau, a city in Malaysia, obviously no one had worked this out at the CIA as no one other than a few of his partners, including me know he has a base there. I cross my legs and sit down to start fiddling with the message in my head, automatically looking for the patterns that I usually would look for, simple shifting and scrambling was unlikely and so she moved onto the harder forms.

At midday, I hear footsteps, Jack's again, tentative and soft as he walks down towards my cell. He arrives and looks at me, his eyes and face questioning me silently. I swallow, but don't react. He breathes deeply, obviously torn between two things, slowly, he pulls a gun out from beneath his jacket, and holds it, half concealed. I watch him as he motions for me to move to the side.

I do so quickly and nod as I see him raise the gun to face the glass barrier. He lets off eight shots in quick succession, each shattering the glass in a different place, the final one, forcing the see through wall to fall to the ground, the barrier disappearing completely. Staring at him, having never thought he would actually do it, I move quickly as he yells, his cover now blown, "Move, now!"

I run out, instinctively grabbing his hand so that we can't be divided, he drops the weapon as we run and hands me a tranquiliser gun. I smile a little, happy to be back in the game and out of my timeless prison. Rounding another corner we run head first into purposely smoked up hallways and hear voices shouting for us to keep still and drop the guns. Though he haze; I count seven guards, all armed. I grab at Jack's hand harder, the smoke stopping me from seeing properly and my eyes watering madly. Raising the gun I begin to shoot at the opposition, noting that Jack has done the same, his hand not rejecting mine, seeing it as a necessity.

GO!!! Read and Review and read my other fics!