Birthday felicitations!

[sarea]

Happy birthday, Jade!!!

<sung really fast>

Happy happy birthday!!
Happy happy birthday!!
Happy happy birthday!!
Happy happy birthday!!

</crazy Carl's Jr. commercial>

This year, in honor of your birthday, I have rewritten certain scenes in Alias, starring a few of the pairings you enjoy. It's quite mad.

+++

Buffy felt ridiculous. Well, she felt rather sexy, actually, but also there were some feelings of lameness. She wondered if maybe she should keep the shoes when they were finished. And the bustier. Every girl needed a good bustier, right? At least, she assumed this was a good one. It kept everything secure while at the same time made everything look way bigger and firmer than everything normally was.

She sauntered down the hall until she reached the room where Angel sat, indolently reclining against a red velvet chair. She had stumbled only a little bit, but no one saw so it was okay. She struck a sexy pose, expecting his eyes to bug out satisfyingly.

Angel took a slow, casual sip of O+ and said, "No. Put on the red one."

Buffy knew there was a chair behind her that had four very wooden legs that could be used as stakes if there was a need.

Instead, she plastered a smile on her face and turned back down the hall. Bastard.

She stripped off the black garments, including the stupid stockings, and donned the red lingerie set, which consisted of a bra, panties, and a see-through covering -- in the loosest sense of the word. Literally. She was damned if she was going to put stockings on again.

Buffy repeated her catwalk sashay, this time managing to stay upright 100 percent of the time.

"Not bad," Angel said. "That's better."

In a flash Buffy was on him, pulling his hair back and poking one long fingernail into his chest.

"Ow," he protested.

"What was wrong with the black one?" she demanded. "Do you think it's comfortable wearing clothes like this?"

"The hair. You're messing up the hair," Angel said.

"Gravity can't do anything, what makes you think I could?"

Angel slid his hand up her bare thigh, clearly hoping to distract her. Unfortunately, it did. Within seconds they were kissing and fumbling with clothing.

"Excuse me," said a frosty voice, "but this is a public changing room. Can you please take that elsewhere?"

Buffy had rarely been so embarrassed. Well, okay, she had been, but she had sworn never to mention those times to herself again. "Oh don't worry, this can't actually go anywhere," she said. "He can't... you know."

"Hey! I can, I just don't want to. And you don't really want me to, either."

Buffy correctly interpreted the look on the sales clerk's face to be, Get out. Now. She smiled sheepishly. "We're leaving. And we'll, um, take the red set. And the black one, too." She felt the need to make up for being an uncontrollable lusty thing.

"Hmph," said the clerk, stalking away.

"Both?" Angel looked decidedly happy.

"One for Willow and one for Tara," said Buffy. "Don't get any ideas."

"I can't help it. They just pop into my head, fully formed." He stared down at her chest. "Man, I wish we had to shop for bridal showers every day."

+++

Ginny disembarked from her carriage and made her way over to the second carriage, which held their cargo. Draco Malfoy sat without moving, his hands and feet bound. Ginny bent to remove his restraints -- they were trading him for an Auror who had been captured while on assignment in Milan.

"I assure you, this organization, the Covenant, is as much a mystery to me as it is to the DMLE," Draco said, looking earnest. "I can't imagine why they'd want to make this trade."

"You're about to find out," said Ginny, not looking up.

Draco studied her for a moment, then said quietly, "My life's in danger, isn't it?"

Their gazes met, and Ginny felt an unwanted wave of sympathy. He's a murderer, she told herself. He's indirectly responsible for the death of your best friend.

She tugged him out of the carriage, and tried not to think about the fact that she was essentially sending this man to his death. He had been completely cooperative during his imprisonment, and he seemed to have no loyalties to speak of. She studied him when he wasn't looking, his cool blond looks, his boyish profile. What must it be like to be Draco Malfoy, whose parents had abandoned him, figuratively and literally, during his formative years? He'd learned ambition at a young age. He'd done what he needed to in order to survive. Was that so great a crime?

And perhaps the most significant question of all was, what sort of person did it make her, to knowingly send a man to his death -- and possibly torture, at the hands of people she didn't know? Was that truly justice?

At the last minute, just before they released him to send him toward his uncertain future, Ginny pressed her spare wand into his hand.

+++

God, the day couldn't have been worse. Her alarm hadn't gone off that morning, she never found time to eat lunch, due to having to cram for a math test she'd forgotten she had, she was positive she'd failed her English lit exam -- or gotten a B, which was basically the same thing, and to top it all off, she'd fallen into a nice, cold puddle of mud when her shoes had lost traction halfway home.

Joey threw her backpack on the floor and made as if to flop onto her bed, but something on her desk caught her eye. A book. An old one, from the look of it. She picked it up, and some undefined emotion caught in her throat when she realized what it was. "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," by Lewis Carroll. She lovingly flipped through the pages, marvelling at the fragile feel of old paper.

"It's a third edition," said a voice from behind her. A familiar voice she was only too happy to hear at that moment.

She was embarrassingly close to tears, and she didn't need yet another excuse to humiliate herself that day, so she didn't turn around, taking a moment to compose herself. It would probably do no good; she could feel the waterworks starting. "Thank you," she said, hoping she sounded as grateful as she was.

"I was going to get the first edition," continued Pacey, "but it was, like, forty-thousand dollars..."

Joey couldn't help it then; she turned around, laughing and crying, and flung herself into his arms. How did he always, always know what to say?

Pacey returned the hug for a moment, then pulled away, grinning. "Anyway ... I'll see you later."

Impulsively, Joey leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth. Pacey licked his lips, and she wondered if he could taste the salt of her tears. "Come by later," she said, smiling. "I'll read this to you."

"Are you trying to suggest that I can't read, Potter?"

"No," she protested, laughing. "Come on. It'll be fun."

Pacey pulled the book toward him, but she was still holding onto it, so the backs of her hands thumped against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat. "How about, I'll come over later and I'll read it to you?"

It only took her a moment to consider. "Deal."

+++

Julia took a deep breath and began to walk toward the stranger, who watched her make her way to him. His cool, assessing gaze made her uncomfortable, but Julia had long since learned to hide her feelings. You have to learn how to make a poker face, she could remember someone telling her. She just couldn't remember who. It was a voice she had trusted.

As she got nearer, she began to make out his face. He was an attractive man. Perhaps even more so than she realized, given he was entirely without hair. Not many men could pull off such a look, particularly not one so young. His eyes seemed to see right through her, as if he knew all her secrets and some things about her that even she didn't know.

She was about to issue a greeting when he suddenly stepped forward and placed his hard mouth on hers, kissing her with hunger, with familiarity. Julia was stunned and could not move, even when he lifted his mouth.

"Good to see you, Lana," he murmured, and his voice was startlingly familiar.

It took every ounce of effort not to react. He knows my real name, she thought, with some shock. He knows who I am. Which was a hell of a lot more than she knew.

Julia struggled to put a smile on her face -- not too big. Just a casual upturn of the lips. "Good to see you, too."

She could sense Vaug--Clark bumbling about in the background. He could hear everything through the wire she was wearing. He had to know the significance of this exchange.

"I have a room upstairs," the man said, capturing her hand and running his thumb over her fingers. "What say you and I get caught up there, for old times' sake?"

Suddenly Julia placed his voice. It was the one she sometimes heard in her dreams. "For old times' sake," she agreed.

+++

Severus Snape struggled futilely in the chair he was bound to. Well, the moment had finally come. He'd always known, since the moment he first considered betraying the Dark Lord, that he wasn't long for the world. "I'm not long for this world," he used to tell the ladies, who would swoon at his dark, tragic romanticism. Then Harry Potter came along and ruined everything by defeating Voldemort, and Snape actually lived on for quite a number of years longer than he'd anticipated.

In that time, he'd learned a few things about himself, number one being that he'd wasted those dark, romantic years on the wrong people ... on the wrong gender entirely, in fact. That, and, it wasn't easy being greasy.

But now he'd been captured, and most likely was going to be tortured and killed. He felt extremely grumpy about it.

The idiot who'd offered him some stew had just left, and Snape could hear the approaching footsteps of someone new. Voldemort, no doubt.

A soft, husky voice said, "I've waited almost thirty years for this."

At first, Snape couldn't believe what he was hearing. It sounded like ... but it couldn't be. And then the person stepped into the light, and it was.

"Lupin?"

"You must have known this day would come," said one of his childhood nemeses. "I could have prevented all this, of course. But I like bondage games."

After that day, so did Snape.

+++

Hermione approached the house stealthily, feeling her stomach clench with fear and excitement when she saw the bodies. "Kingsley, I just saw two... I just saw three guards. They're dead. Kingsley?"

For some reason, she wasn't getting a response on her communication charm. She heard a crash from within another room -- she guessed the kitchen -- and began to make her way carefully to the source of the sound.

Entering the kitchen, two thoughts struck her at once. Lucius Malfoy, her quarry, was dead, and his murderer was standing there just staring at her, as if transfixed. He wore a black mask, obscuring his face, and in his hand he held a bloody ice pick.

"Oh, no -- Malfoy!" she cried. Now we'll never know the truth! Hermione thought, suddenly furious. If there was anything Hermione despised, it was street justice. That was what laws and the justice system were for!

Spurred by her anger, Hermione immediately engaged the black-outfitted man in a battle. Spells whizzed back and forth as the two combatants ducked, rolled, and leapt over furniture to avoid being hit. Hermione, whose strength in a physical altercation had always been improvisation, grabbed a nearby frying pan and held it in front of her just as her assailant fired a stunning hex. The spell bounced off of the metal surface and ricocheted back where it came from, hitting the man in black directly in the chest. He collapsed, his figure still as death on the floor.

It was then that Hermione saw the bandage, which peeked out from under a long black sleeve. A white bandage, which she had lovingly applied herself just yesterday.

It can't be, she thought, but part of her already knew the truth.

She bent down to the still figure, tears nearly blinding her vision. She pulled off the mask and sobbed when she made out the familiar dark hair and bright green eyes, which were half closed. "No." It was the only thing she could think of to say.

"I tried to keep you from this," he whispered. "I want you to know that."

"Harry, hold on," Hermione said, cradling his head in her lap. "I'm sorry."

But it was too late; he couldn't hear her. His head lolled to the side and he ... passed out.

Harry was revived thirty minutes later at St. Mungo's, and everyone agreed that Lucius Malfoy was a bastard and deserved to die by being stabbed with an ice pick, anyway.

+++

Dana Scully steeled herself inwardly as she surveyed the man inside the cell. Was it possible he wasn't the man she thought he was? That he was yet another impostor, posing as her partner to ... to what, exactly?

She would be able to tell. No one else could, but she could. Probably. Possibly.

You couldn't tell last time. Or the time before that, a voice in her head reminded.

It didn't matter. This time, she'd know. She stepped up to the glass.

"They think I'm not me?" the man who looked like Fox Mulder said.

"They don't know what to think," Scully replied. "Someone breached the system and they're freaking out." The words sounded odd in her voice, but they had come so naturally. She continued, "They disabled all WI-FI access points and reset all user accounts and passwords. It's a witch hunt."

The look on his face said, So what else is new? Despite herself, despite the situation, Scully felt a small smile threaten to upturn her lips. If she could read his face, his thoughts, surely it meant he was really Mulder.

"What was that eye scan?" he asked.

"It's a test," Scully explained. "It analyzes your retina. Someone who's been doubled develops proteins. They're like markers." She hesitated. This was where faith came in. "They found proteins."

Mulder was clearly flabbergasted as he stepped away from the glass. He stared at her. "Scully, that's impossible. It doesn't make any sense!" He turned away, then stepped up again. She could see the gleam of excitement in his eyes and knew that something had fallen into place in his mind. "Wait a second. Do you remember, the last time this happened, we made up a signal that would indicate we were actually ourselves?"

"Yes," Scully said. "That was actually what I was going to suggest. However, the fact that you remember we had such a signal is good enough for me. I know you're Mulder."

"But you can't be absolutely sure unless you've seen it," Mulder insisted.

"I trust you," Scully replied quickly.

"No, no. Here we go. Ready?"

And he began the terrible, terrible dancing.

A few minutes later, Scully met Skinner in the control room. "It's him, all right."

Comments

[sarea-okelani.livejournal.com]

Thanks for coming out of lurkdom to comment! :D I appreciate it.

This is actually a mix of S1-3, so I'm surprised too, if you haven't seen it in possibly 2 years. At least two of the scenes were from S3. Maybe you've been secretly watching it in your sleep. ; )