inferno

i'm glad you guys liked the sarkney. that's the way i wanted things to head but if you didn't like it i was going to change it. glad you do. (if anyone has a major problem with it let me know :smiley: ) i've already got a whole bunch of other chapters written; i've kinda been going crazy with all the writing. i gotta send them to my beta-er but i'll get them up asap. glad you guys like it.

m-c
 
xii. the business
interrogation
sark slapped himself to stay awake and focused. not that he was really focused on anything, except not focusing on sydney. he had thought of only her for the full forty-eight hours he had been stuck in his cell, and he needed to get her out of his mind.
he was back in l.a. sitting it out, waiting for someone to grab him and throw him into an interrogation room, to stick him with needles and glass shards and punch him and kick him. he wasn’t scared. he had been tortured before. he was simply afraid that it would be sydney interrogating him. how was he supposed to hide his hard-on that he got every time he saw sydney if he was handcuffed, like he most likely would be? sure, when they had been dancing, sark had pulled her in to feel his erection, but that was just to mess with her mind. he couldn’t afford to show his weakness; plus, if sydney noticed, she would most likely hurt him rather severely, and he wasn’t looking forward to that.
he slapped himself again. they were trying to ruin him, to break him down. they had left him with only some ratty clothes they had probably gotten off the street, and his watch, so that he could watch his time slip by, slip away. they hadn’t fed him since he was apprehended, gave him no blankets or pillows, gave him no windows, no other inmates, nothing that could possibly let his mind wander. he didn’t even have a bed or the standard bars on his cell; nope, it was just cement, four walls of cement with a door in one corner. no windows, the smallest amount of light possible.
he sighed. they didn’t seem to understand that his organization was still running smoothly, now someone else in charge. they didn’t seem to understand that he would give them no information that could possibly be of use to them. then he remembered. he had told sydney about her mother, just to taunt her really. he never expected her to take him seriously, he just wanted to play with her mind a little. but she, or someone she had told, probably thought he was for real. maybe he was going to be tortured for information on irina.
that was a thought to ponder. would he give up information on irina? he truly had no idea. she still amazed him, blew him away, but he had no ties to her anymore. he hadn’t heard much of her since he had left. of course he heard when the rambaldi necklace mysteriously disappeared – it hasn’t been found since – but that was all.
i’d give irina up to sydney, he thought. that thought made him so angry. sydney bristow amazed him even more than her mother did, and that was not good. he couldn’t care about her, about what she thought of him. he couldn’t be willing to give information up just because it was her. that was absurd. but he didn’t know how to stop those thoughts.
she amazed him. she blew him away. she left him in awe. he adored her innocence. he adored her sexuality. he wasn’t pretending when he told vaughn he wanted to just throw her down and have his way with her. that was all he wanted to do.
the door opened. he barely bothered to look up. it was vaughn. sark didn’t care. he sighed. he cared so little about vaughn, he wasn’t even glad for the break from the silence and the monotonous hours he had spent so far in the cell.
“come on,” vaughn pulled sark to his feet.
his hands were handcuffed together, and his feet were also chained together, though far enough apart that he could walk easily. sark stepped toward the door. vaughn elbowed him in the face. vaughn threw him against a wall, slammed his head into it. sark just sighed. he had had two days of absolutely nothing, of waiting to be tortured. by now, he didn’t care. he figured they would continue the hours, days, weeks of nothing, only interrupted by interrogations and torturing, until he escaped or was killed. he figured he could escape, sometime, if he could plan it out. but the plan would take a while to form, and until then, he just had to put up with everything.
vaughn pulled him, hard, by the handcuffs. when the guards outside sark’s cell shot vaughn surprised glances because of sark’s condition, vaughn shrugged them off.
“he tried to fight me,” he lied.
the guards nodded. they didn’t really care. it didn’t matter what they believed. they had just needed a little reassurance so they could pretend their life was normal. everyone needed that reassurance.
vaughn yanked, bumped, pushed, pulled sark as much as possible before unlocking a door and throwing him inside. sydney was inside. sark tried as hard as he could to focus on the pain in his face instead of his penis as it hardened.
“he tried to fight me,” vaughn lied again.
“well get him something to clean himself up with,” sydney suggested, ignoring her doubt in vaughn’s statement. “we are good people, not like him.”
vaughn nodded and left the room. sydney gestured for sark to sit down across the table from her. he sighed and shuffled to the seat. sydney looked at him, he didn’t look like he had fought back, and she was pretty sure he would have hit vaughn at least once – but vaughn didn’t have a mark on his body.
“did you really try to fight him?” she asked, trying to sound like she didn’t care.
“does it matter? but for the record, if i had tried to fight him, i would have hurt him,” he replied.
sydney scoffed. sark smirked to himself. that was just exactly what he loved about sydney bristow. he loved the way she was innocent and moral but at the same time, knew what she was doing and who she was dealing with. she could be concerned, then immediately realize her mistake and be pissed off. it made him laugh.
vaughn returned with some paper towel. he offered it to sark. sark just looked at him.
“my hands are bound together. how the hell am i supposed to clean myself up?” he said flatly. “either you do it, or uncuff me and i’ll do it…or sydney could do it.”
there was just the slightest hint of a taunt in his voice. vaughn visibly stiffened. he scoffed and uncuffed sark.
sark took the paper towel and wiped the blood from his face. his nose was bleeding profusely, and the pressure and paper towel weren’t helping much. sark leaned over and spit out blood – including a tooth – at vaughn’s feet.
“you guys got a good dentist here, or am i stuck missing a tooth?” sark asked. he spit again. “two teeth.”
vaughn looked down at the two teeth and the puddle of blood at his feet. sydney watched the anger spread over his face. she stood up.
“vaughn, why don’t you go outside. i can handle the prisoner by myself,” she suggested.
vaughn looked at her. she nodded. he shrugged and left. sydney sat back down.
“how do you make it here without sd-6 knowing?” sark asked.
“that doesn’t matter,” she replied, thinking of the long and annoying route she had to take every time she came to the facility.
“you know, yawn fancies you,” he sighed. “a rather depressing thing he is, but he is definitely attracted to you.”
“agent vaughn is my handler. there are rules, and we follow them,” sydney said.
“right. the rules control his thoughts. he’s never imagined you naked or wondered what it was like if he could be seen with you without being killed.”
“what’s your name? i realize you don’t want to tell us, but we will find out anyway,” she ignored his comment. “there’s really no point in not telling us.”
sark debated in his head. if this were vaughn, or jack, or anyone else, i wouldn’t tell them. so i can’t tell sydney. he yawned instead. sydney was disgusted by the blood and missing teeth his yawn revealed. he spit once more.
“you know, it’s funny. i mean, vaughn dislikes me so much, yet he had to restrain me before trying to hurt me. if he were any kind of a man he would fight me when i wasn’t handcuffed,” sark said.
sydney sighed. sark isn’t going to give me any information. none. there isn’t even a chance. but devlin told us to break him, so no matter what i think, i have to try.
“tell me about irina derevko,” sydney instructed.
sark looked at her. talking about his teenage years shouldn’t have any real consequence – he didn’t have to tell any information about the organization. it had probably changed completely since he left anyway. he sighed.
“i was fifteen years old. i heard forty-three gunshots while i was walking home. as i crossed a street, a car slammed on its brakes and hit me lightly at the knees. it wasn't enough to knock me over of even to hurt me. irina got out and told me to get in the car. i did as i was told, i wasn’t about to disobey that woman,” sark explained. “she told me that she needed someone like me to work for her. that since i hadn’t flinched when the car hit me, since i didn’t care if i had died right there, that she needed me to work for her. at the time i was living by myself in an abandoned building, living off of stolen or dug-out-of-the-trash food. how could i say no?”
“so she just took you in and let you work for her? just trusted you like that?” sydney asked.
“oh lord no,” he replied, laughing. “it took an entire year before she let me carry out an assignment by myself. i don’t think she trusts anyone.”
“a year?”
“actually a year and a half,” he said. “i was so f***ing excited to do it too. i did exactly as i was told. set up, taking my gun from the guitar case i was carrying. i waited for the mark. then i killed him.”
sydney sighed. the simplicity with which he told the story, the ease of him explaining that he had killed a man disturbed her.
“god, that night was amazing. she rewarded me for a job well done,” he remembered as he spoke.
“how?” sydney asked.
he looked at her.
“how did she reward you?”
he still just looked at her. f***. so now i have to tell the woman that i want to f*** that i f***ed her mother when i was sixteen? great. but he smirked nonetheless. he always liked irony.
“she – ” his tone became softer – “taught me how to have sex.”
sydney’s eyes widened. “what?”
“she knew that i was in love with her, so she rewarded me by having sex with me,” he explained. he chuckled. “but i wasn’t as good as i thought i was. so she taught me how to do it right.”
sydney just sat there. she couldn’t believe it. of course, there was still the chance that none of this was true, that it was all just felgercarb sark had made up, but something told her that this was for real, that everything he had said really happened.
sark looked up. he wasn’t going to let sydney beat him. he wasn’t going to care what she thought. if he was going to care about anything regarding her, he was going to care about just how he was going to get her in bed – or on a table for that matter. he looked at the table in front of them. he could take her on that. his nose had stopped bleeding, his hands were still uncuffed. plus, there wasn’t a mirror or window or anything on the walls, so no one could be watching. there were no cameras – at least not ones that sark could see. he thought of throwing her onto the table and ravishing her. his hard-on grew. he stood up.
***
the first thing sydney noticed when sark stood up was his erection knocking on the door to get out of his pants. she tried to avert her eyes but she knew it was obvious that she saw it. she knew sark had wanted her to see it. she didn’t know what to do.
***
sark didn’t know what to do. he had stood, had shown sydney how much he wanted her, but he was still “feet-cuffed.” he still knew that she would probably kill him if he tried anything. and that made him even more excited. he loved nothing more than a challenge.
he walked calmly to her side of the table. she was shaking slightly. she looked at him. he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her up to him. she felt his erection pressing against her as he pressed her lips against his. the kiss was just as good as the one from the club. she melted. she couldn’t help it. she just melted into him.
***
he felt her muscles relax as she fell into him. he held her tightly against him as they continued to kiss. he grabbed the hair on the back of her head and pulled it – but not too hard – so that he had better access to her neck. he began to kiss and suckle under her chin, next to her ear, all around her neck. she breathed heavily. completely lost in the moment.
“stop!” she yanked herself away.
she had regained her senses.
“get the hell away from me,” her breath was still ragged.
sark smirked but did as he was told. sydney was razzled, wasn’t sure what to do next.
“no one was watching right? i didn’t see any cameras but that doesn’t mean anything,” he shrugged. “just want to make sure i haven’t made you lose face with your father and agent yawn. well, there probably aren’t any cameras. i mean, i doubt the cia is in the habit of videotaping the prisoners they plan on torturing.”
“there’s no cameras,” she replied quietly. “but never, never, touch me again. i will not hesitate to kill you.”
“like i told you when i first met you, i don’t mind dying,” he smirked. he thought for a moment. “i think that’s the thing that has let me rise in the business. i’m not addicted to life, money, love, sex, anything. not even power. if i lose it, i lose it. i’ll probably get a chance to gain it back anyway, so i don’t really mind. it’s like putting me in a cell, taking away my so-called freedom. please. left with my own thoughts, oh no. it’s not like having time to relax and think out life is such a bad thing.”
the door opened. sydney immediately took another step away from sark. vaughn was at the door and lunged in, yanking sark back by the shirt and quickly handcuffing him again.
“did he do anything to you?” vaughn asked, noticeably concerned.
“no,” sydney lied. “we were just talking. why did you interrupt?”
“your dad needs to talk to you. i think it’s something regarding sloane. it’s obviously important, because he didn’t trust me enough to tell me,” vaughn scoffed.
“prove yourself to him and you’ll be fine. he knows you do good work,” she assured him. “sark’s not really saying anything important. but don’t kill him while i’m gone.”
she walked out and closed the door, leaving vaughn and sark alone together. vaughn glared at the other man, trying to tear him apart with his eyes. sark just smirked. it seemed vaughn half-expected sark to cower, beg for vaughn not to hit him. but sark just smirked.
vaughn sat down and gestured for sark to do the same. he complied, sitting across the table. for a minute the two just stared at each other, trying to figure the other one out. sark was wondering just what he could do to piss vaughn off; vaughn was wondering just what he could do to hurt sark without leaving a mark.
“are you ever going to fight me when i am not handcuffed? or are you still a little bit nervous about having to fight fair fights?” sark taunted.
“i don’t know what you are talking about, you tried to fight me,” vaughn shrugged.
“please, if i had tried to fight you, you would be in the hospital. if – instead of just trying – i actually fought you, you would be dead,” sark chuckled.
vaughn rolled his eyes. “yep. and that’s why i don’t fight you. i’m just a-shakin’ in my boots.”
“so tell me,” sark changed the subject, “why does daddy dearest dislike you? and how do you think that will affect your chances with his daughter? they seem pretty close, i’m not sure she would date you if your father hates you as much as you make him out to.”
“so what are you saying? she’d date you?” vaughn asked. “if jack thought his daughter was with you, he would f***ing pay me to marry her.”
“you want to marry her do you? the obsession is a little bit more than i expected,” sark noted. “you’ve actually thought about the far future, all the while you don’t admit to thinking about her at all. interesting.”
“i was just saying – you know what? it doesn’t matter. we are not talking about this. tell me about irina derevko.”
“i already told sydney.” he yawned, obviously bored.
“well you can tell me again. and you will refer to her as agent bristow,” vaughn snapped.
“only if you will,” sark smirked. “seriously, how can you ask me to call her agent bristow when you call her syd? that’s absurd.”
vaughn sighed. sark was such a cooperative prisoner.
“just tell me again about derevko,” he repeated.
“she picked me up off the streets when i was fifteen. she raised me. she taught me everything i needed to know about life,” sark replied.
“tell me about her operation. what role did you play in it?”
“i was the guy who killed people. i didn’t ask why, i didn’t need to know. eventually, it got boring so i left,” he said.
“specifics on her organization?”
“i’m not going to give you f***ing specifics. it is not my place to reveal that information,” he shrugged.
“i need specifics on her organization and i suggest that you cooperate if you don’t want to be tortured and killed!” vaughn exclaimed.
“as i told sydney, i don’t mind dying. i don’t mind being tortured. if i die, i die. my operation continues to run and you guys know even less about it because you don’t know who is running it. irina’s operation continues to run and the cia is still oblivious to anything she is doing. i don’t really care if i live or die,” sark explained. “the only thing i will regret if i die right now is never getting to have sex with sydney.”
vaughn’s face boiled red. but he refused to react. he wasn’t about to let some cocky, british scumbag taunt him into actions he would later regret. he took a breath. someone knocked at the door.

i’ve never known a girl like you before
now just like any song from days of yore
hear you come a knockin knockin on my door
and i’ve never met a girl like you before

it was sydney. she entered slowly, afraid she was going to see sark dead on the floor and vaughn wiping the blood from his hands. she didn’t. she was glad.
“what did your dad have to say?” vaughn stood up as he asked her.
“i need to talk to sark, alone,” she replied.
vaughn sighed. does no one trust me anymore? he wondered. it seemed he was the last person to know anything when it came to sark and irina. but he did what he was told, nothing else seemed like it would help him anyway. he left the room.
as soon as the door closed sydney leapt at sark.

gimme just a taste so i want more
now my hands are bleeding and my knees are raw
cuz now you got me crawlin crawlin on the floor
and i’ve never known a girl like you before

she threw him to his knees and ran her hands through his messy curls. sark barely felt the sting as his knees slammed into the cement, he focused on sydney. suddenly she pulled him up and kissed him deeply. then she pushed him away again. he fell to the ground, barely catching himself on his knees and handcuffed hands. he looked at her, smirking.
“tell me about irina’s operation and i’ll stay here for a while. don’t tell me, and i’m leaving now,” she said.

you’ve made me acknowledge the devil in me
i hope to god that i’m talking metaphorically
hope that i’m talking allegorically
know i’m talking bout the way i feel
and i’ve never known a girl like you
never never never never
never known a girl like you before

sark started spouting out information without thinking.
the life
“well i don’t really know that much about her operation now, i mean, i haven’t had any contact with her throughout the last three years. when i left i just left i mean i didn’t look back, i don’t look back, that’s the way i live my life. but that’s not the point. the point is i can only tell you about her operation back when i was part of it and even then i can’t tell you that much because i wasn’t allowed to know everything; that was the reason i left really, i didn’t have high enough standing in her operation for my liking – everything had gotten boring, there was no rush. i live for that rush i need that rush, so i left. the last i knew when i was working with her was she made an alliance – well not alliance, she doesn’t make alliances she makes friends and collects favors – so she made friends with simon walker, the son of gregory walker, the arms dealer. see when gregory died simon took over his business and while previously there was a chance that we were going to work with his dad, we ended up working with him. the necklace that i got from the museum was sent to him to analyze because irina’s men weren’t accomplishing much of anything on it. that was the last i heard, i mean, i don’t think simon was able to understand it. i think he still has it.”
sark looked at sydney. he was still on the floor, she was looking down at him. suddenly he realized what he had just done. f***. not only had he given up information that he shouldn’t have, he had shown a major weakness. sydney now knew that she could work him for all he was worth and he barely had any control over it. he sighed. what was he supposed to do now? he couldn’t say just kidding. he couldn’t pretend he was joking. instead he just stood calmly and went back to his seat at the table.
***
sydney couldn’t believe it. so mr. sark did indeed have a weakness. and that weakness was her. she wondered what other sort of information she could get out of this.
she stepped behind him and ran her hands through his hair again. she didn’t exactly enjoy her interaction with sark – at least she told herself she didn’t – but she knew she had to do it for the cia. she massaged his head.
“tell me about your operation,” she whispered into his ear.
he scoffed. “why? haven’t i told you enough? i’m sure when you tell your superiors they will just have a little tizzy. they’ll be so excited, they’ll congratulate you, ask you how you did it. what are you going to tell them then?”
sydney thought for a moment. no one had ever questioned her means of getting a prisoner to talk, it wasn’t something you did. you just took the information and was happy about it. but what if someone walked in right now? what if they saw her massaging sark’s head? she took a step away and kept her hands to her sides. what if there were cameras she didn’t know about? she tried not to think about that.
“do you really think that they will ask about that? they’ll be so excited, it wouldn’t matter if they knew what i was doing of if they thought i tortured you,” she replied, sitting across the table from him.
“is there a difference?”
he smirked at her. she just looked at him. was there a difference?
“what’s your name?” sydney asked.
“i’ve already told you that it was sark. that’s what people know me by,” he sighed.
“when you were born, what was your name? what name did your mother give you?”
sark looked at her. he appreciated the mother comment instead of the earlier one about his so-called father. he sighed. like it really mattered.
“i was born julian lazarey,” he said.
sydney smiled slightly. guess you really do catch more bees with honey.
sark grinned. “you happy now?”
“i’ve always loved the name julian,” she said. “why did you change it?”
“because that wasn’t who i was,” he explained. “julian lazarey was a desperate little boy who needed to be something. every day he wished he had a purpose in life, a reason to live. then he met irina. he grew into someone who didn’t need to question his life. he grew to become someone who had a reason to wake up in the morning. but most importantly, he grew into someone powerful, someone worthwhile. he wasn’t julian lazarey anymore. he was sark.”
“don’t you miss having a first name? i mean, what does your mother and sister call you when you talk to them? do they know you as sark?” she asked.
he sighed and shook his head.
“i haven’t spoken to my family in almost seven years,” he replied quietly.
“i’m sure i could arrange something…” sydney drifted off.
sark looked at her. he looked so angry.
“what? so they could see me like this? so they could ask ‘where have you been?’ and i can tell them that i kill people for a living? i can tell my mother that her precious baby boy who used to go to church with her every time she went, that that little sweet boy has killed more people in the last seven years than he has known?”
sydney sighed. she had never thought of it in that way. god, she felt so sad for him. this boy who happened to stumble upon irina and immediately had to become a man. forced to kill…no. he wasn’t forced to kill anyone. this had been just as much his choice of lifestyle as irina’s. sydney was supposed to hate him, to despise him. catching bees with honey wouldn’t’ get her very far in this business. she refused to be emotional toward him.
***
sark tried not to show how much he appreciated the kindness from sydney. no matter how much he loved the power and the wine and the sex and the kill, he would always miss his home. he would always feel badly for leaving his mother and sister behind. he was comforted in the fact that sydney seemed to care.
***
“well if you are so worried about what your mother and sister would think of you, why do you continue to live this way?” sydney scoffed. “you could go back to your family at any time. you could get out of this life.”
“could i?!” sark exclaimed. “really? could you tell me how? i doubt you know. i mean look at you. stuck leading not just the double life between your friends and your job, but between sd-6 and the cia. you are supposed to just compartmentalize everything that happens around you and live a normal life? right. i’m sure you’ve accomplished that. if you really do figure out how to get out of this life, it’d be great if you could just slip instructions under the door of my isolated, concrete cell!”
“this was your f***ing choice!” sydney yelled. “you did not have to start this life! when you left derevko’s you did not have to start up again. you could have gone back to your family. if, as you say, your operation can run smoothly without you, you could leave and go to your family and give whomever is second-in-command a promotion. you didn’t have to kill anyone. you didn’t have to come back to that night club. there were so many decisions that you could have made that would have made sure you didn’t end up here. but no, the choices you made led you here, and you just have to deal with it.”
sark scolded himself for enjoying the slight moment of kindness sydney had shown. he had to remember what he was doing, the business he was in. he couldn’t need sympathy and caring. he needed to be unemotional. he needed not to care. that was what he had to do in this business, and before sydney bristow, he was doing just fine. he had to ignore her and go on the way he always went on. no regrets, never look back. he couldn’t care if he died. he couldn’t care if he missed an opportunity. he had to look forward, not back. he had to move on. he didn’t have to compartmentalize his emotions, he needed to have no emotions. that was the way it worked in the business, and if he couldn’t handle that, maybe it wasn’t where he belonged.
who was he kidding? of course he could handle everything that was thrown his way. he had done it before, he could always do it again. as soon as he got out of cia custody he would be back to his old devilish ways, and he would love it. he already missed the feeling of a gun in his hands, a steering wheel behind his clenched fingers, trying to stay on the road as he shot at his enemies in the car behind him.
so maybe he missed his home, but by now, home was just an imaginary place. his real life was the business. all he needed to be ‘home’ was a nice glass of red wine, a fire in his fireplace, a car in his garage, and a gun in his hands. that was his life now, and he couldn’t live without it.


finally!!!!! here you go. i have a whole bunch of other chapters too. i'll get them to meg asap and you shall have them. i think you'll like it. the next chapter sort of upturns the world...hehe

m-c
 
Really good. Would absolutely to see Sydney and Sark get together though. Who cares about Agent Yawn! :rolleyes:

Fantastic update, thanks for the PM :smiley:
 
(y) That was a great update! You capture these characters so well.... I liked that you had Vaughn beat him when he was restrained, because that's an element of the show that rings true. Whenever they've crossed each other's paths, Vaughn only wins by knocking him unconscience, or beating him when he's already restrained. Vaughn's such a schmuck. :mad: And poor Sarkie and his, shall we say "manly" problems, when ever Syd's around. He's seriously going to need some sexual release soon. (Ooh...I just got a mental image of Sark taking matters into his own hands...
dribble.gif
I'm such a Sark-ho! :lol: ) I'm so glad you've got a lot more chapters ready to go, I love this story and can't wait for more! ^_^ Cheers- Rachel *aka* toxic karma
 
you guys are all so sweet to me! hehe...thanks so much. i'm really glad you guys all like it! i have tons more written but my computer's being poopy so i can only send stuff to my beta-er sometimes. meg's got it now though so it should be coming soon -- the next chap anyway. but really, i've got like thiry pages ready for editing. i think you guys will like it. it's...intense i suppose is the best word. maybe i'll give you guys a spoiler sometime soon. not now though, you'll have the next chap asap.

m-c
 
sry guys. there was miscommunication between meg and me so things got a little messed up. she does have the next chapter though and i have a whole bunch more to send her. i really like where i went with it and i hope you will too. i'll try to get as much to you as soon as possible.

m-c
 
hey ya'll i'm m-c's betaer, just wanted to apologize for not betaing her stuff in a while. but i finished 2 chaps earlier today so she should have them posted soon. then she said she has more to send me. so stay tuned for awsomeness...and awsomeness it is PROMISE!!!
 
aww meg! you're so sweet! okay so here's the next chap and i'll get the next next one up v. soon as well. hope you all like it...well actually hope you all lurve it!

xiii. merger
sark was to be transferred. while he had given sydney good information about irina’s organization, he refused to talk about his own. he had been in isolation for two weeks, been fed basically nothing, been beaten up, gone days without a shower or even any sort of water, had no bed but his cement floor, nothing. but he refused to talk. he continued as his cocky, arrogant self. devlin decided there was no need for him to be kept where he was. the only reason he was there in the first place was so that sydney could see him – since she was the only person who ever got him to talk. but now that he wasn’t talking, he was being transferred to a different prison.
or so the cia thought.
there was no reason for any part of the transfer to go wrong, even sark appeared willing. everything was just as it should be. but halfway through the transfer, the cia lost all contact with the transfer bus. it wasn’t that it was ambushed or it crashed or hijacked, they just lost all contact with it. it vanished. it was just gone.
jack was livid.
“this was irina’s doing! she obviously knew we were transferring him and interfered. it’s classic derevko!” he yelled.
“how would she know we were transferring him? why would she even care if he was in or out of prison? – he is her enemy. you have been angry since you first read sark’s statement about irina raising him. you just want to be able to blame something on her. well guess what, not everything that goes wrong is her doing,” sydney replied. “ever since you found out, since you knew that your relationship was completely fake, you have hated that woman. i’m not saying that she doesn’t deserve your hatred, i’m only trying to say that you can’t just jump to conclusions like that based on your anger.”
“there is no evidence to the contrary – ”
“and there is no evidence to support it,” vaughn cut in. “look, none of us know how or why this happened. we need to investigate it. i also think that we need to go back to ireland to see if irina still operates out of that mansion. after your last mission there, there was no follow-up and there have been no known movements. it seems she still is working there. we need to find out if that is true. and if she did break sark out, he might be there too.”
***
“why did you help me escape?” sark asked, sipping his black coffee at the table where he had eaten breakfast for four years of his life.
“help you? please, you were ready to be transferred. if i didn’t initiate and complete the escape plan, you’d still be in cia custody,” irina replied.
“you didn’t answer my question love.”
irina looked at him. she smiled slightly.
“don’t you understand? you are my creation,” she said. “i molded you into what you are today. when i found you, you were just a lump of sculpting clay. look at you now. you are michealangelo’s david. you are the world.”
sark smirked. “i’m arrogant, but even i wouldn’t take it that far.”
“i see the way women look at you, like you are everything. like you are their reason to live. and jesus christ, that boy harris that you employ? he adores you. you are everything to him. the number of people who you have power over is amazing. you have people so committed to you they could be tortured for twenty years and would never even think to give you up. the thought would not have even crossed their minds. to some people, you are the world,” she smiled.
he shook his head and took another sip of his coffee. he had missed this place. it had been his only real home before he bought his own flat. it had been everything to him. it was different now, not the house, but the way it made him feel. having normal, adult conversations with irina was amazing. it wasn’t just business, it was life now. he understood now what had been between them before. his life was for her, her life was for the business. now, they were both for the business, and they understood each other.
“i’ve missed you julian,” irina broke the silence. “you left and there was no one else around. sure, i recruited ally, but he isn’t half as good as you were. he asks questions. he doesn’t have your perfect shot. he was of no use to me.”
“so what? breaking me out of prison was your way of inviting me back to work for you again?” sark asked.
“no, no, no. i know you would never come back here. i mean, you’ve got an empire now. i doubt you would want to come back to mine. i was just thinking we could have an alliance,” she explained.
“you never used to make alliances. more importantly, i don’t make alliances,” he said.
“well, i was actually hoping for more than that,” she paused. “i don’t want you to work for me, i want you to work with me. like a merger of two companies. we would join our works together, two forces become one. you still run all of your business, i still run all of mine, but we both have input. and we share our information. it would help both of us to grow stronger.”
“and you decided that the best way to spring this on me would be over an after-dinner coffee?” he asked. “we are celebrating my freedom so why wouldn’t i be happy enough to agree?”
“no,” she replied. “i decided to tell you this because i know that it doesn’t matter if i show you facts and figures about my organization and estimated figures if we were to join and be one. you will decide on your own. it will be your choice. whether i tell you we could rule the world together or i just say i want to work with you, either way it will all boil down to what you want.”
“you have a point. but i really want to know, why do you think we would do better together? i never really understood your ultimate goal.”
“i joined the kgb because it was an honor to serve my country, especially as a woman. it was such a huge deal back then. everyone was so proud. after it disbanded, there was an opportunity to take over. i had become addicted to the kgb lifestyle. the thrills of it; the lying, the acting, the killing, the guns, the sex, the wines and foods and everything that having money and power and influence got me. and now i’m stuck on this rambaldi. few things amaze me, and when i find something that does, i hang onto it. so i’m hanging onto milo rambaldi and his works. and i’m hanging onto my power ,my money, my influence and my lifestyle,” she explained. “why are you in this?”
“this is all i know,” he stated simply. “i was just a child when you picked me up. i hadn’t experienced life. i hadn’t experienced anything. then you came along and you showed me what everything was, you showed me life. working for you was like paying off my debt; it was because you saved my life and because you amazed me. i left because i was tired of being treated like a little boy. i was feeding off your addiction and i had discovered one of my own. i loved power more than i loved you. so i had to move on. now i know that i could not live without everything you say you love; the power, the sex, the wine, the lifestyle, the guns, the cars, the kill. it’s my addiction now.”
“so why wouldn’t you want to join me? merging our two organizations can only bring more power, more sex, more wine, more guns, cars, more kills. it can feed your addiction,” irina said.
“i’m afraid,” he paused slightly, “that i will still be treated as a boy. i left because you told me that i was never really a child so i could never really be a man. if that is really how you see me, then we cannot possibly work together.”
irina looked at him. she took the last swig of her coffee. she seemed to plan out what she was going to say as she savored the caffeine.
“i was wrong.”
it was three words. and it changed everything. irina went on.
“i said i thought you were a boy because i thought you would always hold on to those childish wishes that you had. i knew that deep down, you wished your mother would rush in, say she loved you and scoop you away to live with her again. i knew that there were parts of you that were vulnerable, that could be broken. but look at you now. you built yourself an empire. you live for this. you are a man now. you are more of a man than anyone i know,” she said.
sark chuckled. he couldn’t believe irina had really said that. it was nice to be appreciated. but he sighed.
“you know, there is a part of me that is still vulnerable,” he admitted.
“what?” irina scoffed. “what inside of you could possibly break that cool, cocky exterior?”
he looked her directly in the eye. “your daughter.”
***
irina looked at him. he was staring her down, his ice blue eyes far more powerful than they ever were before. she glanced to the fire in the fireplace next to her, glanced to the bottom of her empty coffee cup, glanced back at sark.
“does she know?”
sark sighed. he nodded.
“she figured it out when i was in custody,” he began. “one time, after agent yawn left the room, she just kissed me. then she pushed me away and said that if i talked she would stay but if i didn’t she would leave. i talked.”
irina slammed her hands against the tabletop.
“you really are in love with her, aren’t you? i thought you were just being an annoying little boy when you would send her gifts, but i was wrong. you love her don’t you?” she asked.
“i – i don’t know. she amazes me, even more than you do if that’s possible. she’s just so…so sydney. she’s so innocent and yet at the same time so sexual,” he explained. “i just want to – ”
“i do not want to hear about the things you would like to do to my daughter. i only want to let you know, it is not a good choice. she will burn you. she is so f***ing patriotic and moral and perfect. she hates you. you have to know that.”
“i do know that.” he sighed. “and i realize that in business, i can’t let her get to me. i try, i do. but sometimes it doesn’t work.”
“well now that she knows what are you going to do? whenever there is business involving you, or if you are ever captured again, she will be the one to deal with you because she can get information from you. this is a big weakness you realize,” irina said.
“but think about it. is she committed enough to her job to put up with me; with the kisses and the flirting and my obvious erections?” sark asked.
“obvious erections? what do you do, show them off?”
“it’s not something easily hidden,” he smirked, “and i get them often when i’m around your daughter.”
irina let out a long breath. she could barely believe the man sitting in front of her, taunting her, was the same person who left her side three years ago. she sighed and shook her head.
“i have two questions for you,” sark said. “one, how do i know you aren’t just going to take me back under your wing and treat me like a boy again if i agree to work with you? i realize that you said you were wrong and now think of me as a man, but how do i know you mean that? how do i know you won’t just baby me again?”
“julian, look at me,” irina replied. “you are a man. i realize that now. and i am not going to treat you like a boy, i have more important things to worry about anyway. if you don’t believe me, fine, but i’m telling the truth.”
sark stood, angry. “how can i believe that you are telling the truth when you still call me bloody julian?! that is not my name!”
“please,” irina scoffed. “i realize that you may not like it, may think you are better than it, but no. you can’t completely erase your past, it will always be there. julian is your name. as much as you want to change, simply become ‘sark’ you can’t. you are always going to have that stray bit of julian in you, whether you like it or not. you can’t get rid of your past just as i can’t get rid of mine.”
“so what – you are saying that you still have laura bristow in you?”
she glared at him. yes, that was what she was saying, but her tone had been obvious that he was supposed to understand that, not ask about it. had he forgotten her tones and her subtle hints about what should be questioned and what shouldn’t? but then she really looked at him. he had understood her tone, realized she didn’t want to discuss it. but he wasn’t her lackey anymore, and he was allowed to ask questions even if she didn’t like it.
“yes. i will always have laura bristow in me; there will be a part of me that will always love jack, and sydney. there will be a part of me that misses the illusion of our marriage, of someone to come home to at night. but that doesn’t mean that i am still that person. but not being that person doesn’t mean that i am completely someone else,” she explained. “do you understand?”
sark nodded.
“what was your second question?” irina asked.
“can you handle dealing with someone who has a weakness? especially if that weakness is your daughter?”
she thought for a moment. “if that’s what it takes to work with you, then that’s what it takes to work with you.”
sark grinned. “i think we have ourselves a deal.”
***
sark lived in the mansion for two days. he made contact with his organization so they knew he was alive, but otherwise, he relaxed. the decision to join irina’s operation was a big step, and there would be lots of hard work to come, he knew that. so he took a step back, settled down for a few days. but of course, the vacation ended.
“we need to leave this mansion,” sark said.
“we?” irina raised her eyebrows. “i live here.”
“yes, but the cia came here before. of course, at that time they thought urlich was running the operation. now they know it’s you, and while they haven’t come back since, there’s nothing to stop them from making sure you aren’t here,” he replied.
“why do they know that i am running the operation?!”
he looked at her. “because i told sydney. i told you i had talked.”
“i didn’t realize you were stupid enough to let that piece of information slip out,” she scoffed.
“okay, well it was nice doing business with you. shame our friendship didn’t last longer,” he turned away from her.
she grabbed his arm. he looked back at her. they had been in this situation before, when he was leaving to kill his father. but this time, her grip wasn’t loose, she wasn’t about to let him go.
“we made a partnership. i intend to keep it,” she said.
“one of the things i was afraid of was you treating me like a boy. you told me you wouldn’t. yet you immediately call me stupid? doesn’t sound that great to me. you said you could deal with my weakness in regard to your daughter if that’s what you have to do to work with me. if you do intend to keep this partnership, bloody deal with it!”
irina let out a breath. she pulled him into her for a kiss. he held back, pulled himself away.
“if we are working together you need to learn how to communicate with me through something other than sex,” he said.
she sighed.
“i’ll deal with it,” she whispered.
“we have to get out of here. i don’t know how long it will take one of the three musketeers to figure out that we might still be here,” sark said. “i’m betting on jack realizing it first. he hates you the most. sydney would be too lost in the emotions and morals of it all. and vaughn, well i just don’t think his brain can do that much work.”
“the three musketeers?” irina chuckled.
“it fits, doesn’t it?”
she just laughed and headed down the hallway.
“i’m going to pack. tell urlich to gather the necessities; he’ll know what to do,” she called back to him.
sark smiled to himself. for once, urlich actually has to pay attention to me. he went off to find him.
***
an hour and a half later and sark, irina, urlich, garder, irina’s new lackey ally and the necessities were on a plane to sark’s mansion outside of london. the necessities turned out mainly to be irina’s favorite art work – “what you think i’d keep any true valuables there after the cia discovered it?” she laughed when sark asked about the paintings – and some pillows and rugs.
sark felt grand. he felt powerful. it wasn’t like he didn’t feel powerful all the time, but this was different. he was on equal status as irina. urlich and garder had to take orders from him. he was superior to them. he was more powerful. his empire was beginning to rival irina’s, and the merger of the two organizations would prove very important to his life.
***
“damn it,” sydney muttered under her breath standing in irina’s abandoned office. “we missed them.”
“we don’t know how long they have been gone. for all we know irina could have been out of here before we apprehended sark,” vaughn sighed. “we’ll catch up.”
“sydney,” jack entered the room, his expression unreadable. “there’s something you need to see.”
she quickly followed him out of the room, up the grandiose flight of stairs, to the fourth floor. there was a door. it was slightly ajar, light peeking through the opening. sydney entered the room behind her father, vaughn was behind her.
the room was comfortable, different from the rest of the mansion. there was a fireplace on one side, and two overstuffed armchairs and a couch sat facing it. there was a coffee table in front of the couch. a mirror sat over the fireplace. on the other side of the room was a window looking out at a forest. under the window was a bureau. on the coffee table in front of the couch was a stack of papers and two envelopes. one of the envelopes had already been opened, its contents tossed lightly aside.
sydney sat at the couch. the pictures were of her, of irina, of jack, of the family. jack was pushing irina and sydney as a baby on a swing. there was a picture of sydney smiling with a missing front tooth. there were pictures from the museum, from her birthday mission. there were a lot of pictures from her birthday mission. they were all relatively close-up, sydney holding her composure while figuring out a plan to escape.
“sark must have taken them,” sydney whispered.
she turned her attention to the still-sealed envelope. “sydney” was written on the front in dramatic swirls of handwriting. sydney took a deep breath and opened it.
dear sydney
i love you. if you don’t know anything else about me, know that. i have always loved you, and i will always love you. i understand if you hate me, but i hope that someday you give me a chance to explain myself. that’s all i ask of you. give me a chance to explain everything that i have done.
love, your mother
“what does it say?” vaughn asked.
“nothing,” sydney shrugged. “yours?”
jack shook his head. “nothing of importance. let’s get moving. we’ve got an analysis team waiting to take a look at this mansion. now irina and sark have a head-start, but we can find them.”
“you’re right. let’s get out of here,” sydney replied.
***
“what’d you leave for jack and sydney?” sark asked.
he took a bite of his sandwich and looked at irina expectantly. he was sitting in a chair, leaning back with his feet on the table in front of him. he grinned as he chewed.
“well?”
irina sighed. she knew if she were to be true to her word, that sark had equal status to her, that she had to answer the question, even if she didn’t want to.
“i left letters for them both. i left old files that didn’t matter. i gave them enough not to be completely disappointed but not enough to gain any information,” she explained.
“what was in the letters?” sark asked, smirking slightly.
“sark, don’t push your power,” irina replied. “that’s personal and just because you have the same status as i do now doesn’t mean you can push it.”
“just asking,” he shrugged.
he stretched his arms and yawned.
“you do not know how nice it is to be back in my own home.”
“how long were you in jail?” irina asked.
“fifteen days, twelve hours, thirteen minutes, and twenty seconds from the time vaughn threw me in his car until you got me in the transfer bus,” sark replied.
she raised her eyebrows.
he shrugged. “they made me keep my watch. torture is watching the time slip by.”
she looked at him, a slight smile on her face. he chuckled.
“what?”
“i can see you in jail,” she replied. “you’d be quite a sight. handsome, rich, suave, cocky mr. sark reduced to nothing but a body with eyes staring longingly at a watch.”
sark scoffed. she still treats me like a boy.
“if you really want to know what it was like, i could tell you of the numerous things i thought of doing to your daughter,” he suggested.
irina rolled her eyes. “don’t try to piss me off sark. you just seem like a petulant child.”
“stop treating me like a child. this is a partnership. and i can’t f***ing believe that you still expect me to drop to your feet and be one hundred percent loyal,” he replied. “i have invited you into my house. there is a real possibility of value in our business relationship, but you have to get used to me being just as powerful as you are.”
“i’m going to bed.”
sark clenched his teeth to control his temper as irina left the room. this isn’t going to work out. she still thinks i’m willing to die for her. she needs to understand who i am or she needs to leave.
***
irina sighed as she slumped onto the edge of her bed. sark was right; she had to get used to his power. it was different, a completely new relationship. she wasn’t ready for it. she knew she needed to understand it and deal with it. this partnership brought her one step closer to her ultimate goal, and she wasn’t about to change that.
***
sydney sighed as she sat at her desk, papers and files strewn out in front of her. it had been four weeks. they had gotten no new information on either sark or irina. the trail had run cold. she had been beating her brains out to find these people and she had nothing. she hated herself for it.
***
jack sat at his desk. he looked over at sydney. she looked so distraught. he hated that he couldn’t do anything to change the look on his daughter’s face, but he could find nothing else on irina and sark. they seemed to have vanished into thin air.
jack took out irina’s letter to him. he knew he shouldn’t, but he kept it in his desk. he hated that he kept it there, but part of him needed to hold onto her, and part of him thought the letter would somehow help him find her and bring her to justice. as he reread it he knew that deep down, neither thought made sense to him.
dearest jack
i miss you. it’d be nice to see you again, to be with you again. i remember our last night together. god that was amazing. do you remember? i can still feel your hands on me, i can still taste the salty sweat of your skin. i long to have another night like that with you. i’m going to spare you the bulls*** about loving you – you and i both know that in this life love is worthless. i just wanted to let you know, that i hope the next time you see me, you will f*** me like we used to. that’s what i miss most. i know you miss it too.
irina
jack put the letter back in his desk. he sighed. he hated irina for being his weakness, he just wished there was some way he could find her.
***
“they aren’t going to find us you realize?” sark called as he rinsed his breakfast dishes. “it’s been five weeks. we’re home free.”
“we’re never home free,” irina replied, entering through the swinging door with her dishes. “we’re never safe. we can always trip up. they can always find us.”
“you worry too much,” he shrugged.
“you mean that you never think sydney’s going to find some sort of information and track you down? you never worry about that?” she asked.
“worry about it? hell i pray she’ll come find me,” he chuckled. “of course, my fantasies are no where near the reality of the situation. i know she’d kill me if she found me.”
“she would,” irina said. “without hesitation.”
“i don’t know if i’d go that far. i might affect your daughter more than you give me credit for,” sark smirked.
“if she hesitated, it would be because she didn’t want to murder someone, not because you affect her,” she scoffed.
“so you say.”
***
sydney ripped open the envelope. she hadn’t gotten one in months. it had been so long. she thought they might have stopped coming. but here was another one.
i miss you. you’re a great kisser. f***ed agent yawn yet?
s
she rolled her eyes. he was still an arrogant ass, and he still just signed them s. but for some reason, she was so happy to have finally gotten another one. she missed the cocky british tone that she could hear through the writing.
now the cia wasn’t even focusing on irina and sark. they had faded into the background. the cia was pushing one hundred and ten percent of their capabilities into getting rid of the alliance. and they were gaining ground. there was a possibility that by the end of the year, the alliance would no longer exist. sydney was praying for that with all she had.
she had been working so hard she had almost forgotten about the letters, almost. it was nice to get a new one. it made her feel unique, that she could be such an important part in the life of a man that she hadn’t even seen in months, even if he was an assassin. her life was such chaos, it was nice to have something simple and constant there. it meant something to her. she wondered how much she meant to sark.
***
sark stared at the picture of sydney next to his bed. she was probably opening the letter about now. he could see her rolling her eyes, but he could also see her smiling. he hoped she was smiling. he wondered how much sydney meant to him. did he love her?

:smiley: what'd ya think!?

m-c
 
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