idontreallyspar: ([Name] Anthony Venomecci)
((NOTE: takes place prior to Tom's entry into WITSEC))

“Come on in, Tony...have a seat.”

Anthony Venomecci walked into the interrogation room and slid into a chair, gazing around with a combination of interest and fear. He wasn’t a perp...he was here of his own free will, and yet he still felt a little aprehensive.

“It’s okay, son.” Detective Barry Gordon assured him as he took a seat on the table. “Remember, you’re not under arrest. Besides, if you’re gonna sign on? You should get used to these rooms.”

Smiling, he nodded slightly. Was it wrong to feel a *tiny* bit of excitement about that, a little bit of pride in what he was becoming?? In just a few weeks, he’d be training to work in these rooms. He’d be wearing that badge, and he’d be making a difference where it really counted.

“I’m pretty excited.” he admitted, folding his arms and leaning back in his seat. “The guys who work the beat in my neighborhood been sayin’ that I should watch out for The Bull.”

Gordon laughed, nodding. “Oh, yeah. Bullworth...he’ll make your life a living hell during your physical exam if you’re not careful.”

Anthony nodded again, sobering slowly. “So...you gonna record this, or just listen before I fill out a written statement?”

“Studying up, I see...that’s why we’re in here. Detective Coleman is in the viewing room, recording now...room’s miked and being videotaped. Just...say your piece, son.”

He nodded, rubbing his hands over his face as he tried to gather his courage. This felt wrong...it felt *wrong.* Not just what he’d heard, but what it meant. If he was right...if it wasn’t just a conversation he’d misunderstood, then it meant the two men who had given him a hand in starting things fresh were criminals.

It felt like a betrayal of their trust, being here...but they had betrayed him first, simply by masking their intentions. It might even be dangerous, talking about what he knew...

But he was done making a mess of things. It was time to do the right thing.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Okay...it started two nights ago at work. I do stockroom stuff at Outrigger Sports, and I was opening a shipment of parkas when I heard the owners talking. They mentioned something about a Project Sidewinder and Credit Dauphine...we do our banking through them...but then I got kinda suspicious when I heard one of them start talking about money laundering...”

Muse: Thomas Grace
Fandom: ALIAS
Words: 414
idontreallyspar: ([APO] Dark mood)
[WITSEC clearance required]

I went to see my parents once...not face to face, mind you. It was at my grave...my fake one. It was on the first anniversary of my death...I’d been going through a rough time of it, and I just...wanted to see them.

It was one of the most painful things I’ve ever done. They had...aged. Like a decade in just twelve months...mom just sat beside my headstone with her shoulders shaking, like she was sobbing without any tears or voice. Dad’s hands were trembling when he put a bouquet of flowers down on my headstone...my dad, the strongest man I’ve ever known, and his hands were trembling like an old man’s.

I’ve seen what happens to the ones you leave behind...and that firsthand knowledge still haunts me. So I’m not gonna be buried at all. I’ve already got the provisions laid out in my will: when my time comes, I’m gonna be cremated and have my ashes scattered...I won’t give my loved ones, however few I may have, a place to mourn me.

Now maybe it’s kind of morbid, going in-depth with this shit, but with what I do? Death is always jsut around the bend. It’s a constant companion, and something I gotta consider. And if I *do* bite the big one? I figure my final wishes could, in some way, sorta set the people in my life free from a lifetime of grieving. I mean...with no grave, there’s no sign of my death. The only place I’ll live on is in their memories.

And to me? That’s ten times better than the fanciest freaking gravesite.

[/locked]

Muse: Thomas Grace
Fandom: ALIAS
Words: 282
idontreallyspar: (Grace Not Prepared To Run Away)
That’s kind of a hard question...am I religious. I mean...define religious. It’s all really a matter of perspective, if you look at it. Devotion of a religious sort has all kinds of shapes and sizes.

Am I a devout or practicing member of a church? No, I’m not. I was raised Roman Catholic and all, but in some respects I consider myself lucky that I ditched that cold early on in life. In other ways...I still wish I had the faith, you know? Catholics may have the market cornered on guilt, but the ones that really believe, and I don’t mean the zealots...I’m talkin’ more the little old ladies in the back pew with their veils...they have peace. Confidence...they *know* it’s all worthwhile because the check they have to cash after they die is *real.*

But if you’re asking me if I’m spiritual? Absolutely. You might call me something of a loose agnostic, if I didn’t have a few set ideas about the Powers That Be. I believe in God and all...I believe if I talk, he’ll listen. I believe if I’m a good, moral person, he won’t freaking strike me dead with head cancer or something before I’m ready to go.

But do I believe that I’m damned if I say the wrong prayers or spend Sundays in the wrong place? Fuck no. I don’t buy into dogma...the only reason I even believe in God is because of what I do for a living, and who I’m with.

When you’ve come so close to death as often as I have, and then meet a woman like Rachel Gibson? The *only* explanation is divine intervention.

Muse: Thomas Grace
Fandom: ALIAS
Words: 283
idontreallyspar: ([Name] Thomas Grace)
When I was growing up, family was all about the usual stuff...the people at home: mom, dad, siblings, aunts and uncles. It was Christmas morning and 4th of July picnics and even stuff like being grounded as a kid or going home for the holidays when you were older.

[WITSEC clearance required]

I never got that particular opportunity...the going home, growing up with my family. I was still pretty much a kid when I lost them...just a punk that thought he had what it took to make a difference. And right when I was about to reach that point in my life...where I was doing something worthwhile and finding a real place in the world...when I was actually growing up, the worst possible thing happened to me.

That’s when I learned what family is really all about.

It wasn’t the home I made with my first wife or the fake relatives I was estranged from as Tom Grace. Wasn’t even my co-workers that tried so hard to comfort me after Angela got killed. Family isn’t friends or relatives or people you work with.

Family is the woman you dig out of the rubble of a bomb explosion. Family is the man you pull off of a bomb that nearly collapses a full Los Angeles city block from underground. Family is a group of men and women who accept you when you’re there to fill the shoes of the dead and departed...it’s the man who shakes your hand when you’re standing where he ought to be.

Family is the workplace that becomes a home. It’s the people you do more than care for or respect, it’s more than even the people you’ll die for.

Family is the people you’ll bleed for...slow, often, and painful. It’s the people that will do the same for you...and have done it. Have, and do, every single day.

I went to work for APO...but now? I pretty much live there...because if home is where your family’s at, then I make my living going home every day...and damn proud of it.

Muse: Thomas Grace
Fandom: ALIAS
Words: 355
idontreallyspar: (Tom and Rachel - Lost Boys And Golden Gi)
I’ve done a lot of things in my life that I’m not proud of...things that, if I had it to do over again, I might have done differently. I’m not sure if I would have changed the outcome, though...not really. It’s the nature of the beast, I guess...the situation I’m in.

You see...I have the unique, and I suppose dubious blessing of being in a place where all the biggest fuck ups of my life led to one enormously, fantastically great thing that I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t messed up, screwed up, and generally gotten shit on for most of my formative years.

I wouldn’t be here in the Agency if I hadn’t made a few bad choices as a kid...and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I wouldn’t have Rachel if my life weren’t a walking disaster area. It’s as plain as that. Simple. Rachel is my one fantastic thing, and if you gotta suffer to get someone like that in your life...then I’m good.

Still...I think I might have done one *tiny* thing differently, looking back and knowing what I do now.

Prague...Rachel’s first time going into the field, going back to The Shed with Sydney in her ear and me as her backup.

When I lit Peyton’s cigarette...I’d have flirted with Rachel instead.

Muse: Thomas Grace
Fandom: ALIAS
Words: 228
idontreallyspar: ([Hatch] Graceson)
He was marrying one stubborn woman, that was for damn sure. )

Muse: Tom Grace
Fandom: ALIAS
Words: 552

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August 2007

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