Expect the Unexpected

T

TRU_GLASGOW_GAL

Cadet
Title: Expect The Unexpected
Author: Stephy
Summary: post-S3, pre-S4: Sark escapes CIA custody only to be injured and recaptured in the process, he then turns up in Russia affecting significant peoples’ lives in the process…
Disclaimer: I own nothing, as much as I would like to, everything belongs to J.J.Abrams and his ppl etc…
A/N: It sounds really cr*p an many prob tink it is, but I tink its quite gd so enjoy!

Chptr 1

2 ½ weeks after their last encounter and he still hadn’t seen any sign of Sydney and by now he knew something big had happened. He knew she had killed Lauren – of course she had, he had intended for her to do just that when he supplied her with the coordinates – so where was she. She should’ve come back to taunt him about giving up the information so easily, ah, sweet Sydney; if only you knew, he thought to himself. Even so, she would’ve returned to goad him about Lauren’s death; she obviously knew of Lauren’s affair with him, after all she and her precious Agent Vaughn are no doubt back together, he mused silently. The problem was she hadn’t, so it was clear that something was wrong with her – “Hell, something always is!” he said aloud, unintentionally, before continuing to sit silently as the guards sent quizzical looks in his direction.

It was well into the third when they came for him. He knew where they were taking him before they even told him: Camp Harris and he would be subjected to unrestricted interrogation, the smug voice of the guard in front of him said. They needn’t have bothered, he had known this day would come, true, he had expected it sooner, but still the day had come. He supposed this time, the CIA decided they didn’t want him hanging around for another two years or longer while he plotted his escape or to be traded even. He didn’t care; Hell, he would even go so far as to say he welcomed the change – sure, it would most likely be a smaller room and “unrestricted interrogation” meant a damn sure more amount of torture, but he could hack it – he’d been taught by the best, after all, he had been taught by Irina Derevko.

They led him outside, but before they had the chance to load him into the unmarked vehicle, they were ambushed. Story of my life, thought Sark as he heard the gunfire, first I get captured, then I finally figure out a way of getting out of this God forsaken place and someone has to take it upon themselves to recapture me…again! Jesus Christ – I’m really starting to get pissed off with all this!

As he made to fall to the ground, he heard the incompetent CIA’s armed guards and officers telling him to stay standing – they didn’t care about him, he could get shot for all they cared; after all he was an international terrorist and if he was shot dead in an ambush then he was really just another corpse to add to the mounting body count and well, one less problem for them to deal with. F*ck that, Sark said quietly to himself, before saying to himself, Like Hell I’m gonna do what they say – if they think I’m gonna just wait around while they use me as target practice, they’ve got another thing coming! And with that he dropped to the ground. Just as he did, he felt something pop before hearing a very distinct crack. He looked over and saw that the pain he was now experiencing was due to the fact that he had dislocated his wrist – the other side of his left handcuff was attached to an armed guard who had been escorting him. Luckily for Sark the man now lay dead on the ground so he was able to free his injured arm with ease, Must remember to thank the boy scout Agent Vaughn for breaking my arm – otherwise I’d never have got the restraints loosened and it would’ve made it a whole lot more difficult to break out of these, he thought, Neway, on with the escape…

“Not so fast, Sark!” a voice said from behind him. He turned round to see a man pointing his gun at him, surrounded by ten of his own heavily armed ‘muscle’, “Why, Arvin, so good of you to join us…” Sark said, in a sarcastic tone while his mouth turned up into his well-known smirk. Sloane cocked his gun as if in an attempt to unnerve Sark, but all it proceeded to do was allow Sark the opportunity to show Sloane not to patronize him. Sark whipped the gun out of the grasp of one of the guards nearest him and shot the guards encircling them. “Guess you knew I wouldn’t come lightly” Sark remarked with a quick glance from Sloane to the dead guards lying on the ground, and back to Sloane again. He aimed his gun at Sloane and a shot rang out…


PS. Plz rd this an post wot u tink, it wud mean so much 2 me – u have no idea
thanx
xxx
 
Chptr 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as much as I would like to, everything belongs to J.J.Abrams and his ppl etc…


He aimed his gun at Sloane and a shot rang out…

…Sark fell to the ground, clutching his knee in agony – and to reduce the rapid blood loss that he was now experiencing.

“Hello Sark!” a voice said from behind him. He turned his head and looked up to see an unexpected figure, to say the least, standing over him.

Katya Derevko stood above him holding the smoking gun. “Always have a back up, Sark, even you should have known that! – Now you’re going to come with us.”

Sark awoke to find himself restrained and tied to a steel chair. Sloane entered soon after with some figures following obediently behind. They were masked by the shadows, but Sark knew why they were there. “I see you’re trying to make up for all the fun I’m going to miss at Camp Harris, due to your abysmal extraction – I have to say, it was simply dreadful, even by your standards! So these a-holes are simply her to torture me - oh well, this should be fun!” he said, making sure the sarcasm in his voice was evident.

“Not at all, Sark” came Sloane’s reply, “I simply want to know information – I care nothing for what you would experience at the CIA facility, actually I might even toss you back there when I’ve got what I want from you – as a ‘good will’ gesture, some might say!”

“Now you will tell me everything you know of Irina’s whereabouts, she knows of where Nadia has run off to and I know that they are collaborating – I also know that you know where I can find them. So tell me what you know, Sark, or this could turn into a very unfortunate meeting!”

“Now, Arvin, really must we refer to this as a meeting – I mean, how many associates do you usually lock to a chair” “I’ll have you know, Sark, that many of my associates as you refer to them, do indeed find themselves tied to chairs and other objects as we discuss matters of great importance – on saying that though, you are the only one who finds the need to deliberately deter the conversation and not tell me what I want to know. Do not play games with me Sark, I know that you are aware of where I can find them and you are going to tell me!” Sloane said, his tone now quite severe and demanding. “I’m afraid I have no idea what you are referring to, Arvin – I am as much ‘out of the loop’, shall we call it, as you are – in case you failed to notice I have been locked up in that Hell hole of a CIA prison for the past 3 ½ weeks!” Sark answered, his tone sarcastic, yet quite innocent at the same time. This only managed to anger Sloane, “Now that is where you are wrong, Sark because I know you’re lying to me and that just will not do!” and with that, he nodded his head towards one of his ‘heavies’ positioned beside Sark, who produced a hammer. He brought it down forcefully on his already broken and dislocated left arm, but Sark refused to give in and showed no sign of pain or weakness. Sloane and his men quickly were growing restless, so he nodded again at his men and the next thing Sark knew, his padlocks were being opened and he was being hoisted up and lain down on a cold metal slab. Much like my CIA provided bed for the past 3 ½ weeks – and it hadn’t even changed since my last visit either! Sark thought.

“This will continue until you tell me what I want to know!” Sark simply stared nonchalantly at Sloane, so he continued. “Fine, if that’s how you want this to go – I was beginning to grow tired of your stubbornness anyway”. At that he produced a cigarette, lit it and proceeded to brand Sark’s skin with it. When the cigarette was nearly all stubbed out, he produced the lighter again and carried on, adding burns to the already present scorch marks on his abdomen and forearms.

Inside Sark was burning in pain – a sound comparison to the heat of the ash and flames singeing his body. “Well, I’m afraid I’ve grown tired of your constant stubbornness – It really is a terrible annoyance, do you know that?” Sloane commented, not expecting an answer. “I think we’ll return to the first tactic, but with a slight alteration – don’t worry I wouldn’t make you endure the same old torture over and over; no this will be different.”

The guards brought back the hammer and pounded it down onto Sark’s abdomen. “See, didn’t I tell you this would be different!” Sloane taunted from beside him as he grimaced inside at the sound of bones cracking after every blow. By the end, Sark was struggling to breathe and concluded that it was most probable that at least one of his ribs had punctured his lung. “Now, as you appear to be experiencing some difficulty, that procedure must’ve finally gotten through to you! – now tell me what I want to know!”

Sark took a deep breathe, ignoring the searing pain in his stomach, and took pleasure in watching Sloane draw closer, his eyes widening in anticipation.

“Screw you Sloane!” Sark said, spitting a mouthful of blood at his captor.

“Arggh! – Goddammit, Sark! Why won’t you tell me what I want to know? You always have to make it so difficult, don’t you? You are so intolerant!” Sloane screamed in anger and that was when Sark decided that it was the opportune moment…

PS plz rd an post ure thots an replys or mail me wot u tink -it means a lot
xxx
 
Chptr 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as much as I would like to, everything belongs to J.J.Abrams and his ppl etc…


that was when Sark decided that it was the opportune moment…

…He jumped up, tearing off the restraints. Seeing Sloane’s shocked expression he remarked, “They really weren’t that secure, you should’ve known better, Arvin – an international terrorist such as yourself, should not make such incompetent errors!” at the same time as tearing the hammer from the guard’s hands and smashing it into his skull, killing him on impact. Just as the guard fell, Sark swiftly and discretely whipped the gun from his holster and whirled around, pointing it directly at Sloane’s head. “Drop it Katya - ” he said to the figure behind him, hiding in the shadows. “ – or I will shoot – and Irina no doubt would’ve told you that I never miss my target!” “Actually, we haven’t spoken in quite a while” came the voice, still in the darkness of the shadows. “Pity – she would’ve informed you of my remarkable marksmanship!” and with that he quickly spun around and shot her in the head – ryt between the eyes, yet ironically, she could never have seen it coming!

He slammed Sloane back against the table, strapped him down and clamped irons on him to restrain him – making sure they were tight – then he injected a lethal dose of drugs into him and left; knowing full well Sloane would not die, but looking forward to the next time they would meet when he would no doubt kill him and would draw more pleasure from it knowing he had severly inconvenienced Sloane and annoyed hi greatly – all the makings of an epic battle!

Suddenly some of Sloane’s guards caught a glimpse of him and fired in his direction. He dodged most stealthily ands successfully, firing back in their direction and watching them fall to the ground, but he felt some of their bullets pierce his skin and lodge themselves inside of him. He would have to get out of their and soon. As he moved as quickly as he could down the corridor, he noticed documents lying openly on the desk beside him.

“ You really are getting careless in your old age, Sloane, or maybe you’re simply too arrogant for your own good!” Sark thought. As he scanned over the papers, he realized the names were familiar; some were even circled in bold red ink and there was a ‘key’ at the side, which read: _____ = most recent/closest sightings

“Really, Sloane, hire some new security - this sloppiness just will not do – it could get you killed one day!” Sark thought to himself smirking. As the information processed quickly in his brain, he realized why the places were familiar – they were in Russia: he was home…

Looking again at the red ink and ‘key’, he lifted the papers up to the single remaining security camera, pointed to them and retorted, “And what is this – are you 6-years-old or something? – come on, Arvin, you’re meant to be a world famous terrorist, known globally for his expertise in the our field – this does not look like the work of an international terrorist! I guess, I overestimated you: my initial instinct was correct – you are nothing more than a feeble old man trying to claim some glory from the sham that was the workings of a dead prophet – and the answer to the question you asked me: you never “got rid of me”, as you so eloquently put it, because you never truly could. You cannot stop me, Arvin, I am simply ‘too good for you’, as they say, - this is the way it always has been, and…always will be! – you were simply to ignorant to realize it”, putting special emphasize on “ignorant” he smirked infamously, before firing a single shot into the camera and walking away.


PS plz rd and post a reply – it means more than u could no!!!
Thanx
xxx
 
Chptr 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as much as I would like to, everything belongs to J.J.Abrams and his ppl etc…


He stumbled out the building with the documents, stole a car and drove off. He stopped every so often to dump the vehicles and switch cars. As soon as he felt that he was far enough away and that he had lost any of Sloane’s people, who were following him, he pulled over and began reading over all the papers – this time thoroughly. As he read over all the locations, he noticed a distinct, yet quite a hidden and unnoticeable link to someone who didn’t know what to look for; namely Sloane. They all pointed to one place – a place he would never have thought he would go to, but more importantly a place he was certain they would not and did not know about – so he would go there.

He stopped in the middle of nowhere to go to the restroom, taking the documents and the stolen guard’s firearm with him. When he was about to reemerge – after refreshing himself somewhat and bandaging the wounds, extremely badly, but as best he could given the circumstances – he noticed the two men eyeing up his car suspiciously. He could have easily taken them out without drawing too much attention to himself, but he noticed one of them speaking on the phone and realixed he’d have to make a break for it, leaving the car with them – so he did.

A while later and he was traipsing through the snowy, forest hills towards the location. He grew even more weary as the time went on and wondered how on earth he had managed to remain somewhat collected that long, but more notably if he would last long enough to reach the site. Sark was weaker then he had ever been – mainly due to the immense blood loss he had sustained, but also due to the treacherous terrain he was forced to climb – and the feeling was completely unfamiliar to him. Sure, Irina had put him through intense training and torture before, but he couldn’t remember them being as extreme as this and consecutively with other radical measures either. Nevertheless, he felt he should be able to hold out – after all, he’d lasted this long hadn’t he – but hopefully, it wouldn’t be too long before he reached his destination, because he was more than a little uncertain about his last statement to himself. That was when he saw it, “Well, thank f*ck for that!” he said quietly to himself, “Thought I’d never reach it at this rate!”

He clumsily stumbled up the steps and went to clutch the handle on the door, only to realize his hand was shaking quite fiercely and he was unable to grip it properly. He fell slightly as he went to bang on the door and the noise must’ve shaken the inhabitant because the sound of a glass smashing followed by someone silently cursing, could be heard. Oh, God – hurry up! he thought. He leant heavily on the doorframe of the winter cabin – he was fit to collapse…and he did.

As soon as the door swung open, he looked at the occupant, of the cabin, for a split second before falling forward. They caught him, luckily they were fast enough to react before he hit the floor, and closed the door.

The last thing he heard before he passed out – from a combination of blood loss, trauma, and exhaustion, was the simple phrase: “Oh, f*ck!”


ps. plz reply with ure thots, i rell apreciate the feedback and im sorry 4 the huge delay in th eupdates but i got my exams coming up soon so i gotta study sorry (n)
thanx neway
xxx
 
Chptr 5

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as much as I would like to, everything belongs to J.J.Abrams and his ppl etc…


She swung open the door after hearing a loud bang outside only to have him collapse on her, “Oh, F*ck!” she said – she hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the shock of the situation just got to her. The first thing she thought was, “OMG! What happened to him?” Not, “OMG! How did he find me? Or “OMG! Who sent him – was it my father, or Sloane?” or even the most logical at this point, “How on earth did he escape this time?” since the last time they had spoken he had been hauled up in a CIA cell, yet again. This along with his awful appearance unnerved her greatly. She shut the door, put her gun back into her holster – still within easy reach if she had to use it – and dragged him over to the log fire that was burning ferociously. She had thought about taking him to her bedroom to let him rest, but when she felt how ‘deathly cold’ he was and noticed the blood seeping from his various open stomach, leg, and arm wounds, she thought it best to sort those out first esp. in the heat that the fire offered, so she took him to the warmth of the fire and sat him down beside it, propped up against a chair.

As she did so, she could hear the conflicting emotions speaking hastily in her head, “WTF do you think you are doing, Sydney? You’re harboring an international terrorist – you could be put in prison in an instant by your gov. - not to mention about another 30-odd gov. around the world - it’s probably more come to think of it – after all of the terrorizing him and my mother got up to around the globe! Something had stirred inside of her when she caught sight of those oh-so-familiar blue eyes of his, accompanied with the scruffy, but still quite short blonde hair. His eyes were clouded over – no longer filled with the coldness they so usually were and she was intrigued. When she saw him fall forward towards her and that short, sharp, sudden look of panick and helplessness, before he passed out, she knew what she had to do.

Once over at the fire, she turned to him and scanned her eyes over his unconscious body. She saw the blood seeping from the various wounds and noticed the significant tears accompanying them, in his clothing – definetly not the normal Sark: for 1 thing, he’d never be anything but immaculately dressed; or at least he’d make it look like it was immaculate, and another; he’d never have made such a botched job of his escape from the CIA. And another, he’d never be seen to show his weaknesses, esp. not around me – I am the enemy after all – am I not? she thought to herself.

She quickly went to the bathroom to get the emergency medical supplies – granted, they were minimal, but they would have to do for now. She took off his over top, before quickly wrapping a blanket around him. Then she tore the material of his tee-shirt, which clung to his abdomen because of the blood encased around it.

God, he has a really toned body! – not the time ryt now Sydney…in fact it should never be the time to think about things like that, but esp. not when you’re trying to save the guys life she scolded herself, after her slight moment of relapse.

It revealed quite a deep flesh wound underneath and blood spurted out, staining her clothes, God, I hope it hasn’t punctured any of his organs she thought to herself, silently praying that this was not the case. She cleared the wound as best she could before delving her sterile instrument into his taut stomach.

“Arghh!” he exclaimed and jerked up. Their eyes met and she could see the obvious pain in his, but what he saw shocked him: he too saw pain, but not her own – no, it was for him.


plz rd this and post ure thoughts - any encouragemanet (or not) and any ideas are greatly appreciated you have no idea!
thanx
xxx
:D
 
Chptr 6

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as much as I would like to, everything belongs to J.J.Abrams and his ppl etc…


They continued staring at each other, entranced, when suddenly he let out a slight groan and Sydney pulled out a small object, “Got it!” she said triumphantly, holding up the bullet in front of him. “Well, that’s bloody marvelous, Love – now if you don’t mind, do you think you could patch me up now, only I don’t feel quite like bleeding to death much today…but esp. not on your cabin floor!” he said wearily, but with a slight hint of a smirk. The sarcasm was noted, but so was the genuine discomfort and obvious pain in his normally cool blue eyes. She refrained from commenting ‘cos she didn’t really feel like getting into an argument with him and from the look in his eyes, and sound of his voice, he was even more worn out than she had realized, or than he was letting on.

He had passed out again as she stitched the wound in his stomach up, Good, This should make patching up his other wounds a lot easier! she thought. After checking his pulse and finding it too be steady, or as steady as it could be given the circumstances, she concluded that it was most likely from the exhaustion that he had been knocked out and went about fixing him up. The more she examined his battered and bruised body, the more shocked, and oddly intrigued she became as to how he received them. Sure she had seen what had happened to him in the CIA, but that was mainly revenge for what he had done to them or put them through in the past, but this, this was different: this was pure hatred and loathing, this was jealousy, this was pure torture, this was more than the pleasurable violence he had gotten from the CIA, this was beyond any personal vendetta – this was desperation!

And the one person that sprung to mind when the thought came to her was the one person she knew they both shared a revulsion for – Sloane.

Oddly she felt the questions could wait until he had recovered, at least a little. She tried to tell herself it was because she wouldn’t get any proper answers out of him in this state, but she knew the truth; it was because she had seen what had happened to him and for some reason did not want to put him through further interrogation. Crazy, she knew, this was Sark after all, but ryt now she wasn’t exactly thinking straight – hence the wanted terrorist lying in front of her – or maybe she was thinking more clearly than ever. Maybe all the CIA really did to her was coddle her when it came to making her own decisions, she knew it was true - after all what had her father been doing to her all her life – and this was just how she truly felt. She knew she could never openly allow someone to die in front of her, in her house esp. if she could help them – well she hoped not, anyway. Even if they had done something so terrible to her, she did hope that she could bring them to justice with the Gov. instead of putting a bullet in them – that way they would, or should, have to spend all their days rotting in Hell. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how, when it came down to it, her father and her friends had done more damage to her than Sark had ever done – or tried to do. Sure he had tried to kill her many a time, but hadn’t she done the same, plus they were both just doing their jobs, she concluded. Ok, so now she knew something was definitely up with her; since when did she ever think that what Sark did for a living was condonable – he killed people for God’s sake. But so did you, in fact, you still do! the voice in her head told her. It’s not the same though… and so the argument began and she had to stop herself shortly after, before she screamed out and alerted just about everyone within a suitable distance.

Whatever the outcome of the argument she knew she could let him rest. She knew they were safe, well at least for a while anyway. Why, some people may ask, well simply because she couldn’t see Sark going to a place, which wasn’t secure esp. in the state he was in; others may have said that that would be reason enough to show that they were not safe, that he had made a split second decision while not of sound mind, but she knew different – he had been trained by her mother, and if it was one thing she knew about her mother it was that she would never go somewhere that would put her in immediate danger – they were all about survival after all.

She placed her hand over his and realized he was still cold, so she maneuvered him over to the bed and wrapped him in the blankets before bringing in some hot water bottles. She began to undress him from his raggedy and bloodied cloths. When she had removed his trousers, she inwardly cringed at the thought of taking of his boxers, but scolded herself for her childishness. As if her mind had been read, a hand reached over and held hers.

He doesn’t really need them off anyway, she thought to herself as she looked up to see those steely blue eyes of his. She covered him in the blankets again and began to leave the room when three simple words stopped her…


… “Stay with me” and she did.

She lay down beside him and curled up into him – all her previous morals and sensible objectives now thrown away – and he put an arm round her waist. Laying an affectionate hand on his chest, she felt him take each irregular and pained breath, before it evened out somewhat as he drifted off into sleep. She felt oddly safe and comfortable in his arms, as she followed him into sleep. And no matter what her head was trying to tell her about how wrong this was, her heart was screaming back, “But it feels so ryt!”

END?


thanx for readin an i jope u liked it
xxx
:D
 
(y) Oh what a great story!!! Write more! Don't end it here, because there are so many possible conflict about that you can write. So please write more!!!
If you do so, please pm me!!!
thanks
verity
 
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