just that good
- Thread starter acting_chica
- Start date
Galicdreamer
These Words, From My Heart...
Umm,...Wow!!! That was really good!!!! I so very much enjoyed it!
Please add me to the PM list!! Lord, I can't wait for more...:lol:
Please add me to the PM list!! Lord, I can't wait for more...:lol:
acting_chica
Cadet
first let me say that a new chapter should be up soon. within the week i am hoping.
i just wanted to thank you all for being so nice to me. i adore this fic and i'm glad other people do too. especcially amy lynn because you are the goddess of fanfiction, sarkney or otherwise. but really, all of you make me feel great. thanks so much!
m-c
i just wanted to thank you all for being so nice to me. i adore this fic and i'm glad other people do too. especcially amy lynn because you are the goddess of fanfiction, sarkney or otherwise. but really, all of you make me feel great. thanks so much!
m-c
aliaschick820
Cadet
holy felgercarb. amazing. post more soon!
acting_chica
Cadet
finally is here. decided to name this chapter
irina (chapter iv)
“syd come down! whatever she said i’ll fix it. i’ll do anything! just come down!” sark pled with her.
she was on a bridge. on the side of the railing that faced the highway below. there were very few cars on it, and she stood there unnoticed by anyone but sark. the wind blew her hair into her face. it was black, just like she had wanted. she had wanted all of this. she still wanted all of this.
“i don’t know what your mother told you. whatever it is we can get through it. we can fix it, we can find a solution,” he was begging. “please, sydney. i love you.”
***
two days earlier, they sent out a message. it got anonymously passed from person to person. finally it had reached irina.
“the disc. two million. haviland hotel, london. roy. noon. two days.” she repeated it aloud though the room was empty.
sark and sydney had not underestimated the value of the disc to irina. they had looked at it, seen what was on it, tried to decipher it. it was useless. they had no idea what was on the disc, but they knew irina needed it.
she didn’t send a message back. they hadn’t expected her to. in two days they were at the haviland hotel in a reservation under the name roy, waiting.
“she’s never late either is she?” sydney asked. she was apprehensive.
“better. she probably got here at nine am, made a reservation and has had her people scouting out the place for the past two days,” sark chuckled. he shot her a sideways glance. “you nervous?”
“meeting a mother one hasn’t seen in over twenty years kind of does that to a person,” she replied.
“we’ve got a little while…” he said.
“sark i’m not f***ing you right now.”
he laughed. “but it would be such a great first impression for your mother.”
she rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t help but smile.
the phone rang. sydney looked at sark. he looked at her. neither made a move to get the phone. after the third ring, sark leaned over and picked it up.
“mr. roy,” he dropped his english accent. “yes, of course.”
he placed the phone back on its receiver and looked to sydney.
“you ready?”
“she’s early,” she noticed.
“she’s given herself time to get in the elevator and up here and still be on time,” sark explained.
syd tried to breath quietly, steadily. she tried to keep her hands from shaking, keep her face from showing all of her emotions. when the knock came she was too nervous to take notice whether she was late or early or just on time.
two knocks. it was curt. businesslike. sark went to the door. he let syd take a deep breath, and he opened it.
a man stood in front of them. sydney tried not to giggle. she had expected her mother, a tall, beautiful, vibrant woman, but instead she saw a short, fat, balding man. it was quite a surprise.
“where is irina?” sark snapped.
“i am trey. my employer is just across town. i was told to be sure you have the disk and bring you to her,” the man replied. he had a russian accent.
“well tell your employer when we set up a meeting, it’s not a meeting where she can send some dumbass to check up on us,” sark said. “we expect her.”
god he is so sexy when he gets mad syd thought to herself.
“then you will not come to see my employer?” trey asked.
“no we will not – ” sark began.
“may i talk to you?” syd put her hand on his arm.
he took a breath and nodded. they invited trey inside and went to the other side of the room. it wasn’t a very nice hotel room, so they didn’t have much privacy, but sydney didn’t mind.
“if we let him go back now, he will tell irina that i am here,” she said.
sark sighed. “are you sure he knows you’re his daughter?”
“you must have seen the way his eyes got big when he saw me. he knows,” she replied.
“then we have to go meet your mother with him.” it was a statement.
“we have to go meet my mother,” she repeated it as though she were convincing herself she could do it.
sark turned to trey. “let’s go.”
“may i see the disk?” he asked.
“no,” sark said.
***
the car was a dark blue bmw. sydney allowed sark the passenger’s seat and climbed in back. trey did not drive as quickly or as well as either sark or sydney would have.
sydney found herself remembering times they were driving together. his foot was pushing down harder and harder on the gas pedal. his fingers were gripping the wheel tighter and tighter. his knuckles were getting white. they were flying down the highway at 110 mph. she was grinning.
“sydney?” sark opened her door for her.
she snapped back to reality and stepped out. the house was more like a mansion. ivy clung to the brick walls. sydney glanced back at london. the house was on the outskirts of the town. she took a breath and looked back at the house, ready to enter.
trey opened the large oak doors and led them inside. the entry hall itself was bigger than some homes. it had a huge marble staircase at the edge of it that led to the upstairs. off of both sides were doors. they headed to the left.
behind the door a large hallway was revealed. they walked down it, the only sound was the clicking of their feet as they hit the floor.
trey opened a door on their right, and they entered. there, sitting in a chair behind a desk, was irina.
she wore black-rimmed, oval glasses. her hair was pulled back lightly, some of it falling around her face. though she could not see them, sydney knew her mother was wearing black shoes and black pants to match her plain black shirt. irina was working at the desk, focused, pencil in hand. eventually she glanced up.
it took only a fraction of a second for her to hide her surprise, but even that was too long; sydney had seen it on her face.
“thank you, trey,” irina said.
trey left and closed the door. irina rose.
“you are working with sark, are you?” she asked.
sydney didn’t answer the question. “i have some business i need to discuss with you.”
“i think i should get answers first,” irina said.
“you should get answers? my mother was supposed to have died when i was six. she wasn’t supposed to have been working for the kgb, gathering information on my father. if anyone should get answers, it’s me,” sydney replied. “but that’s not the way i work. i’m only here to get business done.”
“where is the disk?” irina asked.
“that is not your concern at the moment. right now, i need information about dad’s death.”
irina stared at her. she could feel as irina traced her face, she could tell she was noticing similarties to hers. but sydney kept her eyes cold and emotionless. irina nodded.
“sark, if you could leave us alone please?” she asked.
“no way in – ” sark began.
“julian,” sydney cut in. “it’s fine.”
sark glared at irina. his eyes were fierce. he wasn’t about to let her hurt sydney, but he had to leave the room. he sighed, and headed for the door, not looking back. the hallway was quiet and looming, as though waiting for something terrible to happen. the room seemed just the same.
“what do you need to know about your father’s death?” irina asked.
she sat back down at her desk and began shuffling through papers.
“i need to know who did it, or how i can find out who did it,” sydney replied.
she watched her mother’s hands as they stacked papers and filed them away like any standard business woman would do.
“it’s been months. you don’t know who did it?” irina questioned her daughter.
“no. i was busy helping sark so he would help me. i thought that you would want to be a part of anything brought against dad’s killers,” she said.
“i thought it was you.”
“you thought i killed dad?” sydney exclaimed.
“no, i thought the woman who was working with sark was you. i had heard of this woman. she was an amazing woman. professional, eyes on the prize, vengeful. no one knew her name. i thought it might be you. i knew you had disappeared on a mission where you met sark. i knew that he would want you to work with him. and i knew you could be all the things people told me about the woman,” irina explained. “you and i are not so different.”
“i didn’t expect you to be so blockbuster like. ‘you and i are not so different.’ how about an ‘i’ve always loved you’? or a ‘nothing could come before my daughter’?” sydney scoffed. “you and i are different. i would never leave my daughter and my husband, my family. i would never leave my life.”
“what are you saying? you did leave your life. you are no longer sydney bristow. you made sure of that,” irina replied. “you left because someone died. i left because if i hadn’t, i would have died.”
“dad knew you were alive the entire time. just like he knew sd-6 was not the cia,” sydney changed subjects. “when he finally brought himself to tell me everything, he died. i have been trying to make everything up to him from the moment you left us. i have been trying but it is hard. so now, i am even willing to work with you to take down his killers.”
“i was not the cause of your father’s death,” irina snapped. she paused. her voice was softer now. “but of course i will help you. i will send someone to your hotel or an apartment or whatever. i know just the man. if he doesn’t know who killed your father, he will find out for you.”
“you mean you don’t know?” sydney asked.
“i mean it hurt me too much to think about it. the emotions were too strong for me to hide, so i buried them. our line of work is not the type where you get to stop and grieve because the man you love died. it’s not the way it works,” irina replied. “go back to your hotel. i will send someone later tonight or tomorrow.”
sydney nodded. she couldn’t believe she had just met her mother. both of the women had hidden their emotions. irina quickly hide her surprise. sydney didn’t even ask for an explanation. but even after all the years, they still had the mother-daughter connection. sydney knew she could trust irina. irina knew she would always protect sydney. it’s just the way it was.
sydney opened the door. sark was immediately at her side.
“what happened? are you okay?” he asked.
she nodded but didn’t say anything. with one last glance at her mother, she made her way out of the house. sark was right next to her the entire time. he was genuinely scared for her. he had no reason to be, but sydney didn’t speak at all. they got in the car and drove away, neither saying another word.
***
“come down!” he yelled. “please!”
sydney stepped over the edge of the bridge and back onto the pavement. sark raced to her and hugged her.
“my god, never do that again,” he said. “are you okay?”
“i’m fine,” she assured him.
they walked back toward his car.
“are you sure you are okay?” she asked. “i mean, ‘i love you’? what are you fifteen?”
he smirked at her. “that seems to make most women feel good about themselves.”
“for one, i’m not most women,” she replied. “and two, who needs love when you got a gun?”
hope you like. sry about the lack of smut, but next chapter (which i started before finishing this one
) has one of the best smut scenes i've ever written. hope to update in just a few days. i made you guys wait so long for this one i figured i'd give you other one really quickly. hope you like.
m-c
irina (chapter iv)
“syd come down! whatever she said i’ll fix it. i’ll do anything! just come down!” sark pled with her.
she was on a bridge. on the side of the railing that faced the highway below. there were very few cars on it, and she stood there unnoticed by anyone but sark. the wind blew her hair into her face. it was black, just like she had wanted. she had wanted all of this. she still wanted all of this.
“i don’t know what your mother told you. whatever it is we can get through it. we can fix it, we can find a solution,” he was begging. “please, sydney. i love you.”
***
two days earlier, they sent out a message. it got anonymously passed from person to person. finally it had reached irina.
“the disc. two million. haviland hotel, london. roy. noon. two days.” she repeated it aloud though the room was empty.
sark and sydney had not underestimated the value of the disc to irina. they had looked at it, seen what was on it, tried to decipher it. it was useless. they had no idea what was on the disc, but they knew irina needed it.
she didn’t send a message back. they hadn’t expected her to. in two days they were at the haviland hotel in a reservation under the name roy, waiting.
“she’s never late either is she?” sydney asked. she was apprehensive.
“better. she probably got here at nine am, made a reservation and has had her people scouting out the place for the past two days,” sark chuckled. he shot her a sideways glance. “you nervous?”
“meeting a mother one hasn’t seen in over twenty years kind of does that to a person,” she replied.
“we’ve got a little while…” he said.
“sark i’m not f***ing you right now.”
he laughed. “but it would be such a great first impression for your mother.”
she rolled her eyes at him but couldn’t help but smile.
the phone rang. sydney looked at sark. he looked at her. neither made a move to get the phone. after the third ring, sark leaned over and picked it up.
“mr. roy,” he dropped his english accent. “yes, of course.”
he placed the phone back on its receiver and looked to sydney.
“you ready?”
“she’s early,” she noticed.
“she’s given herself time to get in the elevator and up here and still be on time,” sark explained.
syd tried to breath quietly, steadily. she tried to keep her hands from shaking, keep her face from showing all of her emotions. when the knock came she was too nervous to take notice whether she was late or early or just on time.
two knocks. it was curt. businesslike. sark went to the door. he let syd take a deep breath, and he opened it.
a man stood in front of them. sydney tried not to giggle. she had expected her mother, a tall, beautiful, vibrant woman, but instead she saw a short, fat, balding man. it was quite a surprise.
“where is irina?” sark snapped.
“i am trey. my employer is just across town. i was told to be sure you have the disk and bring you to her,” the man replied. he had a russian accent.
“well tell your employer when we set up a meeting, it’s not a meeting where she can send some dumbass to check up on us,” sark said. “we expect her.”
god he is so sexy when he gets mad syd thought to herself.
“then you will not come to see my employer?” trey asked.
“no we will not – ” sark began.
“may i talk to you?” syd put her hand on his arm.
he took a breath and nodded. they invited trey inside and went to the other side of the room. it wasn’t a very nice hotel room, so they didn’t have much privacy, but sydney didn’t mind.
“if we let him go back now, he will tell irina that i am here,” she said.
sark sighed. “are you sure he knows you’re his daughter?”
“you must have seen the way his eyes got big when he saw me. he knows,” she replied.
“then we have to go meet your mother with him.” it was a statement.
“we have to go meet my mother,” she repeated it as though she were convincing herself she could do it.
sark turned to trey. “let’s go.”
“may i see the disk?” he asked.
“no,” sark said.
***
the car was a dark blue bmw. sydney allowed sark the passenger’s seat and climbed in back. trey did not drive as quickly or as well as either sark or sydney would have.
sydney found herself remembering times they were driving together. his foot was pushing down harder and harder on the gas pedal. his fingers were gripping the wheel tighter and tighter. his knuckles were getting white. they were flying down the highway at 110 mph. she was grinning.
“sydney?” sark opened her door for her.
she snapped back to reality and stepped out. the house was more like a mansion. ivy clung to the brick walls. sydney glanced back at london. the house was on the outskirts of the town. she took a breath and looked back at the house, ready to enter.
trey opened the large oak doors and led them inside. the entry hall itself was bigger than some homes. it had a huge marble staircase at the edge of it that led to the upstairs. off of both sides were doors. they headed to the left.
behind the door a large hallway was revealed. they walked down it, the only sound was the clicking of their feet as they hit the floor.
trey opened a door on their right, and they entered. there, sitting in a chair behind a desk, was irina.
she wore black-rimmed, oval glasses. her hair was pulled back lightly, some of it falling around her face. though she could not see them, sydney knew her mother was wearing black shoes and black pants to match her plain black shirt. irina was working at the desk, focused, pencil in hand. eventually she glanced up.
it took only a fraction of a second for her to hide her surprise, but even that was too long; sydney had seen it on her face.
“thank you, trey,” irina said.
trey left and closed the door. irina rose.
“you are working with sark, are you?” she asked.
sydney didn’t answer the question. “i have some business i need to discuss with you.”
“i think i should get answers first,” irina said.
“you should get answers? my mother was supposed to have died when i was six. she wasn’t supposed to have been working for the kgb, gathering information on my father. if anyone should get answers, it’s me,” sydney replied. “but that’s not the way i work. i’m only here to get business done.”
“where is the disk?” irina asked.
“that is not your concern at the moment. right now, i need information about dad’s death.”
irina stared at her. she could feel as irina traced her face, she could tell she was noticing similarties to hers. but sydney kept her eyes cold and emotionless. irina nodded.
“sark, if you could leave us alone please?” she asked.
“no way in – ” sark began.
“julian,” sydney cut in. “it’s fine.”
sark glared at irina. his eyes were fierce. he wasn’t about to let her hurt sydney, but he had to leave the room. he sighed, and headed for the door, not looking back. the hallway was quiet and looming, as though waiting for something terrible to happen. the room seemed just the same.
“what do you need to know about your father’s death?” irina asked.
she sat back down at her desk and began shuffling through papers.
“i need to know who did it, or how i can find out who did it,” sydney replied.
she watched her mother’s hands as they stacked papers and filed them away like any standard business woman would do.
“it’s been months. you don’t know who did it?” irina questioned her daughter.
“no. i was busy helping sark so he would help me. i thought that you would want to be a part of anything brought against dad’s killers,” she said.
“i thought it was you.”
“you thought i killed dad?” sydney exclaimed.
“no, i thought the woman who was working with sark was you. i had heard of this woman. she was an amazing woman. professional, eyes on the prize, vengeful. no one knew her name. i thought it might be you. i knew you had disappeared on a mission where you met sark. i knew that he would want you to work with him. and i knew you could be all the things people told me about the woman,” irina explained. “you and i are not so different.”
“i didn’t expect you to be so blockbuster like. ‘you and i are not so different.’ how about an ‘i’ve always loved you’? or a ‘nothing could come before my daughter’?” sydney scoffed. “you and i are different. i would never leave my daughter and my husband, my family. i would never leave my life.”
“what are you saying? you did leave your life. you are no longer sydney bristow. you made sure of that,” irina replied. “you left because someone died. i left because if i hadn’t, i would have died.”
“dad knew you were alive the entire time. just like he knew sd-6 was not the cia,” sydney changed subjects. “when he finally brought himself to tell me everything, he died. i have been trying to make everything up to him from the moment you left us. i have been trying but it is hard. so now, i am even willing to work with you to take down his killers.”
“i was not the cause of your father’s death,” irina snapped. she paused. her voice was softer now. “but of course i will help you. i will send someone to your hotel or an apartment or whatever. i know just the man. if he doesn’t know who killed your father, he will find out for you.”
“you mean you don’t know?” sydney asked.
“i mean it hurt me too much to think about it. the emotions were too strong for me to hide, so i buried them. our line of work is not the type where you get to stop and grieve because the man you love died. it’s not the way it works,” irina replied. “go back to your hotel. i will send someone later tonight or tomorrow.”
sydney nodded. she couldn’t believe she had just met her mother. both of the women had hidden their emotions. irina quickly hide her surprise. sydney didn’t even ask for an explanation. but even after all the years, they still had the mother-daughter connection. sydney knew she could trust irina. irina knew she would always protect sydney. it’s just the way it was.
sydney opened the door. sark was immediately at her side.
“what happened? are you okay?” he asked.
she nodded but didn’t say anything. with one last glance at her mother, she made her way out of the house. sark was right next to her the entire time. he was genuinely scared for her. he had no reason to be, but sydney didn’t speak at all. they got in the car and drove away, neither saying another word.
***
“come down!” he yelled. “please!”
sydney stepped over the edge of the bridge and back onto the pavement. sark raced to her and hugged her.
“my god, never do that again,” he said. “are you okay?”
“i’m fine,” she assured him.
they walked back toward his car.
“are you sure you are okay?” she asked. “i mean, ‘i love you’? what are you fifteen?”
he smirked at her. “that seems to make most women feel good about themselves.”
“for one, i’m not most women,” she replied. “and two, who needs love when you got a gun?”
hope you like. sry about the lack of smut, but next chapter (which i started before finishing this one
) has one of the best smut scenes i've ever written. hope to update in just a few days. i made you guys wait so long for this one i figured i'd give you other one really quickly. hope you like.m-c
:thud:acting_chica said:
You're too kind
Great update - you get an immediate response from me on this one, since I've finally caught up with all my PMs!
I loved the Irina/Sydney converstation. I think you've captured Irina well - even through it all, she does have some feelings/connection with her daughter.
Sark being all protective was nice - you could tell that he was really worried about her. And of course, she was so very different at the end when she said 'who needs love when you have a gun'. That really shows the change that occurred with Jack's death. And I think that she really could change like that given the 'right' situation.
Good job - and don't worry about the lack of smut - it's nice to have a story with plot and smut. I've never been a strict PWP fic reader (porn without plot...)
promisuousXinXpink
Cadet
PM me if you can when the new chapter's up. I can't wait.
AliasJuJuBub
Cadet
amazing chapter ^_^ im quite excited for the smutty chapter coming next
update ASAP, and thanx for the pm
update ASAP, and thanx for the pm
acting_chica
Cadet
chapter v
he threw her against a wall. the elevator shook but kept traveling upward. though she trusted him completely, his ice blue eyes scared her. he held her tight to the wall, arms over her head, staring her down. she was nervous, then she felt his arousal on her inner thigh. but he didn’t give her a chance to grin.
his lips hurled themselves onto hers. one of his hands continued to hold hers above her head, while the other unbuttoned her shirt. he unbuttoned half of it and went for her breasts. her bra clasped in front, and he undid it. as it popped open, he buried his head in her chest. his right hand cupped her right breast and played with it, while his mouth dealt with the left. he drew circles around her nipple with his tongue. he sucked on it. he loved the way her skin tasted. the heat that was always between them caused her to sweat, making the skin just a little salty. he switched breasts and switched hands, now using his right to keep her arms above her head and his left to play with her breast. he licked and sucked, rolled and pinched. his touch was light and tantalizing.
her hands ripped themselves from his grasp and began tearing open his shirt. finally it was completely unbuttoned and, as he continued to play with her breasts, her hands explored his perfectly toned body.
he left her breasts and revisted her lips. he quickly unfastened his belt. his hand went to her hip, pulling her in and making her feel his erection through only his boxers. she undid the button and his throbbing c*** burst out. she kissed him deeply as she began to stroke it. his eyes rolled back as he moaned. she loved it when she could make that happen.
but he grabbed her hands away from him as he kissed her. she knew exactly what he was thinking. no matter how much pleasure anything else brought them, neither of them loved anything more than when he f***ed her up the skirt. it made him feel powerful, which of course he loved; and it made her feel dirty, which she had begun to love the first week she was with him. she was going commando, as she always did when wearing a short skirt or dress, just in case he wanted to play.
he touched her lightly with his fingers, she was already soaking. she could tell he was grinning even though he continued to kiss her. he slipped a finger inside her outer lips and took time to coax out her clit. she could feel her lips beginning to bruise from the power of his kisses, but she quickly forgot about it as he rubbed her clit between his thumb and finger.
he rubbed it fast for a few seconds the pulled his fingers out. he brought them up to their mouths. they shared the taste of her. once they had licked the juices off of his hand, he went to her hip and pulled her near him. their kiss paused for a moment as he slid inside her. it resumed and he began to thrust.
the elevator bell chimed and the door opened, but they took no notice. he was pushing harder and faster. their breathing became rhythmical. her juices were the perfect lubricant and his c*** kept pumping. her walls began to clench. they were both so close. giving in to him, she screamed in escatsy. he emptied into, calling out her name.
it took them both a few seconds to come back to reality. he pulled up his pants and she rebuttoned her blouse.
“your floor, sir, miss,” a bellhop standing outside the elevator grinned.
sark and sydney strided past him, sark flipping him a hundred dollar bill.
“that’s what you get for making me so worried on the bridge,” sark said once they were inside their room.
“if i had known that i would do it more often,” sydney laughed. “look i’m going to jump off the balcony.”
sark grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to him. he kissed her again. they were both ready to go at it once more, but the hotel phone rang.
“what is she doing, sending the person right now?” sark growled.
he picked up the phone.
sydney and sark had changed hotels. they stayed at royal london, still under the name roy. they had told irina and she said she would send in her man most likely the next day. sark and sydney had been ready for a night alone together, but the ringing phone interrupted.
sark slammed down the phone. “there’s a mr. walker here to see us!” he exclaimed.
“as in simon?” syd asked.
“i would assume.”
he pulled out his phone and dialed irina’s number. sydney went to the bathroom and straightened up. she didn’t want simon to notice her ruffled shirt or messy hair and connect the dots. it was down to business.
“you sent walker?” sark exclaimed as sydney walked back into the room. “you know our past!”
sydney took a breath. she knew sark would calm down and be stoic, professional. she just had to make sure she acted the same.
there was a knock on the door.
“he’s here,” sark said and hung up.
sydney headed for the door but sark grabbed her arm. his look said it all. he was angry. sydney had never seen him so angry. she wondered about their past, but stayed silent, watching as sark opened the door.
“so good to see you simon,” sark said.
sydney could tell simply by his tone that he at least looked calm. he had shut down his emotions and was only business.
“you too julian, mate. ah and dear sydney,” simon entered the room.
sydney gave him a nod of hello. she was just as professional as sark. she didn’t care what simon said, she was going to be stoic.
“how ya been, mate?” simon asked sark.
sydney watched sark’s eyes swirl. she had grown to notice even the slightest change in his eyes. the tiny ones that no one else noticed usually revealed the most about him. she knew he was thinking about killing simon. she could see what he was thinking as though it were her own thoughts. kick his feet out from under him. slam his head into the tile. over and over. blood will spray but it wouldn’t matter.
“let’s forget everything that has come before this and move on. we need your help,” as sark snapped back to reality, so did sydney.
“‘we’? god it’s like you’re a bloody married couple. do you finish each other’s sentences and answer each other’s questions before the other one even asks?” simon laughed.
suddenly simon’s feet were kicked out from under him. sark slammed his head into the tile. just once.
sydney’s breath was short and scared. sark’s was heavy and angry. simon’s shaking but calm. simon’s eyes were wide with surprise. sark’s were focused with determination. sydney’s wide and fearful.
“the only reason i am keeping you alive is because we need you. and like irina, i know you are the best. but if you continue to f*** with me i will settle for second best!” sark yelled.
simon nodded. his breathing steadied as sark stepped off of him. sydney sighed.
“what do you need?” simon asked, smoothing the wrinkles out of his designer suit.
“jack bristow was killed three months ago,” sark said, his eyes still swirling. “we need to know who did it.”
“what more information can you give me?”
simon sat on the couch and opened his laptop on the table. he typed as sark talked.
“jack had just told his daughter that sd-6 was not the true cia,” sark explained. “obviously sd-6 had the most motive.”
sark sat in a chair across from simon. sydney continued to walk across the room.
“but if both bristows were good agents, wouldn’t sd-6 rather keep them? i’ve met arvin sloane and i can’t see him killing one of his best men. i’ve also met jack bristow and i know he was not just one of sloane’s best men, he was the best man,” simon replied, eyes still on the screen.
“sloane does not operate the way anyone expects. just because you can’t see him killing one of his best men doesn’t mean he wouldn’t,” sydney said.
“what did sloane say to you when you came in after your father’s death?” simon looked to sydney.
she took a breath. the breath was the only time it took for her to compartmentalize all emotions.
“at first sloane didn’t say anything. we had a standard briefing. of course he said that all of sd-6 was deeply saddened by jack’s death and justice would be served. but then it was just normal. he told us the mission, told dixon and me what we had to do. finally afterward, he called me into his office. he told me that i could take time off if needed, to process all that was thrown at me that week. he said jack was a great agent and would be missed. then he told me he loved me like a daughter and would be there for me no matter what,” sydney spit out the last sentence. the anger and hatred she had for arvin sloane boiled inside of her.
“did he really say anything about sd-6 not being cia?” simon asked, typing once more.
“all he said was he hoped i understood why he had told me it was cia. he said it like there was nothing wrong with it whatsoever,” she replied.
“where do you think he think you went when you disappeared?”
“i’m sorry but what does this have to do with your father’s death?!” sydney exclaimed.
“i need to make sure sloane isn’t going to realize that you are working with sark and that sark is working with me. if he catches me digging through everything there is to know about jack’s death, he is going to suspect something. i’m making sure he won’t find you and kill you,” simon said.
sydney nodded. he sounded sincere.
she answered his question. “in no way would he think i went with sark. i was always so patriotic. i had was so righteous, so moral. there was no way i would work with the ‘bad guy.’”
she glanced at sark but he made no moves. she couldn’t even read his eyes. she went on.
“he must believe that i am with the real cia. that is what he would expect,” sydney said. she added a whisper, “that is what i expected…”
sark finally looked at her. she bit her lip to keep tears from her eyes. she was so different from back then. she loved a known murderer. she was an unknown murderer; she had killed a man while stealing the painting for sark. no one ever knew it was her, not even sark. she had been too afraid to tell him. not afraid of him, she knew he wouldn’t care. she was afraid of herself, for she felt nothing at the man’s death. she didn’t know him, as far as she knew he was an innocent, but still she killed him and felt nothing. it was the day she had changed.
“good,” simon broke the silence. “i don’t think sloane will have any idea about anything. i shouldn’t be detected anyway.”
he packed up his laptop and headed for the door. sark and sydney walked him there.
“i’ll call when i learn something new.”
sark nodded. sydney reached for his arm before he left.
“thank you,” she said softly.
simon touched her hand, then walked out. she and sark watched as he got on the elevator, heading off to find the facts of jack’s death.
hope you like. i'm afraid this fic will be coming to a close sometime soon. time to move on to new things. i dunno tho. hope you like
m-c
he threw her against a wall. the elevator shook but kept traveling upward. though she trusted him completely, his ice blue eyes scared her. he held her tight to the wall, arms over her head, staring her down. she was nervous, then she felt his arousal on her inner thigh. but he didn’t give her a chance to grin.
his lips hurled themselves onto hers. one of his hands continued to hold hers above her head, while the other unbuttoned her shirt. he unbuttoned half of it and went for her breasts. her bra clasped in front, and he undid it. as it popped open, he buried his head in her chest. his right hand cupped her right breast and played with it, while his mouth dealt with the left. he drew circles around her nipple with his tongue. he sucked on it. he loved the way her skin tasted. the heat that was always between them caused her to sweat, making the skin just a little salty. he switched breasts and switched hands, now using his right to keep her arms above her head and his left to play with her breast. he licked and sucked, rolled and pinched. his touch was light and tantalizing.
her hands ripped themselves from his grasp and began tearing open his shirt. finally it was completely unbuttoned and, as he continued to play with her breasts, her hands explored his perfectly toned body.
he left her breasts and revisted her lips. he quickly unfastened his belt. his hand went to her hip, pulling her in and making her feel his erection through only his boxers. she undid the button and his throbbing c*** burst out. she kissed him deeply as she began to stroke it. his eyes rolled back as he moaned. she loved it when she could make that happen.
but he grabbed her hands away from him as he kissed her. she knew exactly what he was thinking. no matter how much pleasure anything else brought them, neither of them loved anything more than when he f***ed her up the skirt. it made him feel powerful, which of course he loved; and it made her feel dirty, which she had begun to love the first week she was with him. she was going commando, as she always did when wearing a short skirt or dress, just in case he wanted to play.
he touched her lightly with his fingers, she was already soaking. she could tell he was grinning even though he continued to kiss her. he slipped a finger inside her outer lips and took time to coax out her clit. she could feel her lips beginning to bruise from the power of his kisses, but she quickly forgot about it as he rubbed her clit between his thumb and finger.
he rubbed it fast for a few seconds the pulled his fingers out. he brought them up to their mouths. they shared the taste of her. once they had licked the juices off of his hand, he went to her hip and pulled her near him. their kiss paused for a moment as he slid inside her. it resumed and he began to thrust.
the elevator bell chimed and the door opened, but they took no notice. he was pushing harder and faster. their breathing became rhythmical. her juices were the perfect lubricant and his c*** kept pumping. her walls began to clench. they were both so close. giving in to him, she screamed in escatsy. he emptied into, calling out her name.
it took them both a few seconds to come back to reality. he pulled up his pants and she rebuttoned her blouse.
“your floor, sir, miss,” a bellhop standing outside the elevator grinned.
sark and sydney strided past him, sark flipping him a hundred dollar bill.
“that’s what you get for making me so worried on the bridge,” sark said once they were inside their room.
“if i had known that i would do it more often,” sydney laughed. “look i’m going to jump off the balcony.”
sark grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to him. he kissed her again. they were both ready to go at it once more, but the hotel phone rang.
“what is she doing, sending the person right now?” sark growled.
he picked up the phone.
sydney and sark had changed hotels. they stayed at royal london, still under the name roy. they had told irina and she said she would send in her man most likely the next day. sark and sydney had been ready for a night alone together, but the ringing phone interrupted.
sark slammed down the phone. “there’s a mr. walker here to see us!” he exclaimed.
“as in simon?” syd asked.
“i would assume.”
he pulled out his phone and dialed irina’s number. sydney went to the bathroom and straightened up. she didn’t want simon to notice her ruffled shirt or messy hair and connect the dots. it was down to business.
“you sent walker?” sark exclaimed as sydney walked back into the room. “you know our past!”
sydney took a breath. she knew sark would calm down and be stoic, professional. she just had to make sure she acted the same.
there was a knock on the door.
“he’s here,” sark said and hung up.
sydney headed for the door but sark grabbed her arm. his look said it all. he was angry. sydney had never seen him so angry. she wondered about their past, but stayed silent, watching as sark opened the door.
“so good to see you simon,” sark said.
sydney could tell simply by his tone that he at least looked calm. he had shut down his emotions and was only business.
“you too julian, mate. ah and dear sydney,” simon entered the room.
sydney gave him a nod of hello. she was just as professional as sark. she didn’t care what simon said, she was going to be stoic.
“how ya been, mate?” simon asked sark.
sydney watched sark’s eyes swirl. she had grown to notice even the slightest change in his eyes. the tiny ones that no one else noticed usually revealed the most about him. she knew he was thinking about killing simon. she could see what he was thinking as though it were her own thoughts. kick his feet out from under him. slam his head into the tile. over and over. blood will spray but it wouldn’t matter.
“let’s forget everything that has come before this and move on. we need your help,” as sark snapped back to reality, so did sydney.
“‘we’? god it’s like you’re a bloody married couple. do you finish each other’s sentences and answer each other’s questions before the other one even asks?” simon laughed.
suddenly simon’s feet were kicked out from under him. sark slammed his head into the tile. just once.
sydney’s breath was short and scared. sark’s was heavy and angry. simon’s shaking but calm. simon’s eyes were wide with surprise. sark’s were focused with determination. sydney’s wide and fearful.
“the only reason i am keeping you alive is because we need you. and like irina, i know you are the best. but if you continue to f*** with me i will settle for second best!” sark yelled.
simon nodded. his breathing steadied as sark stepped off of him. sydney sighed.
“what do you need?” simon asked, smoothing the wrinkles out of his designer suit.
“jack bristow was killed three months ago,” sark said, his eyes still swirling. “we need to know who did it.”
“what more information can you give me?”
simon sat on the couch and opened his laptop on the table. he typed as sark talked.
“jack had just told his daughter that sd-6 was not the true cia,” sark explained. “obviously sd-6 had the most motive.”
sark sat in a chair across from simon. sydney continued to walk across the room.
“but if both bristows were good agents, wouldn’t sd-6 rather keep them? i’ve met arvin sloane and i can’t see him killing one of his best men. i’ve also met jack bristow and i know he was not just one of sloane’s best men, he was the best man,” simon replied, eyes still on the screen.
“sloane does not operate the way anyone expects. just because you can’t see him killing one of his best men doesn’t mean he wouldn’t,” sydney said.
“what did sloane say to you when you came in after your father’s death?” simon looked to sydney.
she took a breath. the breath was the only time it took for her to compartmentalize all emotions.
“at first sloane didn’t say anything. we had a standard briefing. of course he said that all of sd-6 was deeply saddened by jack’s death and justice would be served. but then it was just normal. he told us the mission, told dixon and me what we had to do. finally afterward, he called me into his office. he told me that i could take time off if needed, to process all that was thrown at me that week. he said jack was a great agent and would be missed. then he told me he loved me like a daughter and would be there for me no matter what,” sydney spit out the last sentence. the anger and hatred she had for arvin sloane boiled inside of her.
“did he really say anything about sd-6 not being cia?” simon asked, typing once more.
“all he said was he hoped i understood why he had told me it was cia. he said it like there was nothing wrong with it whatsoever,” she replied.
“where do you think he think you went when you disappeared?”
“i’m sorry but what does this have to do with your father’s death?!” sydney exclaimed.
“i need to make sure sloane isn’t going to realize that you are working with sark and that sark is working with me. if he catches me digging through everything there is to know about jack’s death, he is going to suspect something. i’m making sure he won’t find you and kill you,” simon said.
sydney nodded. he sounded sincere.
she answered his question. “in no way would he think i went with sark. i was always so patriotic. i had was so righteous, so moral. there was no way i would work with the ‘bad guy.’”
she glanced at sark but he made no moves. she couldn’t even read his eyes. she went on.
“he must believe that i am with the real cia. that is what he would expect,” sydney said. she added a whisper, “that is what i expected…”
sark finally looked at her. she bit her lip to keep tears from her eyes. she was so different from back then. she loved a known murderer. she was an unknown murderer; she had killed a man while stealing the painting for sark. no one ever knew it was her, not even sark. she had been too afraid to tell him. not afraid of him, she knew he wouldn’t care. she was afraid of herself, for she felt nothing at the man’s death. she didn’t know him, as far as she knew he was an innocent, but still she killed him and felt nothing. it was the day she had changed.
“good,” simon broke the silence. “i don’t think sloane will have any idea about anything. i shouldn’t be detected anyway.”
he packed up his laptop and headed for the door. sark and sydney walked him there.
“i’ll call when i learn something new.”
sark nodded. sydney reached for his arm before he left.
“thank you,” she said softly.
simon touched her hand, then walked out. she and sark watched as he got on the elevator, heading off to find the facts of jack’s death.
hope you like. i'm afraid this fic will be coming to a close sometime soon. time to move on to new things. i dunno tho. hope you like
m-c
AliasJuJuBub
Cadet
so good ^_^ i loooovvveee this story can't wait to see what happens next
update soon, and thanx for the pm
can't wait to see what happens next update soon, and thanx for the pm
nice, hot, elevator smut! Now there's a nice image... *sigh*
I'm still loopy on medecine, so this'll be short and sweet.
Great chappy - looking forward to what happens next...
On a side note, I just realized it's been so long since I wrote some smut, that I'm having a hard time writing it for the sd-1 Sarkney smut challenge...geez...what has the world come to?
...sorry for the side note in your review...geez...i need to go to bed! :asleep:
Now there's a nice image... *sigh*I'm still loopy on medecine, so this'll be short and sweet.
Great chappy - looking forward to what happens next...
On a side note, I just realized it's been so long since I wrote some smut, that I'm having a hard time writing it for the sd-1 Sarkney smut challenge...geez...what has the world come to?
...sorry for the side note in your review...geez...i need to go to bed! :asleep:
Galicdreamer
These Words, From My Heart...
Loving the elevator smut m-c.....great job. I can't wait for the next chapter..sounds like it is only going to get better and better.
~Heather
~Heather
acting_chica
Cadet
chapter vi
sark brushed her hair off of her face. he loved to watch her sleep. but it wasn’t good, he constantaly told himself. it was an attatchment, an emotional attatchment that had become too much. no longer could he be cold and heartless. no longer could he separate business and sex, or in this case, love. he could no longer perform professionally. he no longer had a cool exterior that couldn’t be broken. now that he was inolved personally, all things changed. and no matter how much he loved sydney, he hated the attatchment.
sydney stirred, pulling sark back to the present. he smiled and kissed her forehead. eyes still closed she smiled and stretched.
“hey,” she opened her eyes.
“hey.”
she rolled over to face him. he was beautiful.
“i ordered room service,” he said. “hash browns, heavy on the ketchup, two sunny-side up eggs, raisin toast and three pieces of bacon.”
“the best,” she beamed.
someone knocked on the penthouse door. room service was always timely. sark stood, pulled on his blue plaid boxer shorts and left to get breakfast.
sydney closed her eyes and took a breath. she imagined him still next to her, his naked body toned with perfect muscles. his touch tantalizing yet amazing. but with the faint odor of breakfast, the illusion faded and she stood to go to the real man.
sark had the table almost ready and the orange juice poured by the time sydney entered the room in a white terry cloth robe. he didn’t notice her presence. she watched him work, putting on the silverware perfectly straight, making sure the salt and pepper were on the table. he was still wearing nothing but his boxers. she couldn’t help but giggle; seeing him like that made her so happy. he walked over to her and kissed her lightly. it was times like these that made their relationship seem almost normal. the hotel phone rang. almost
“always at the most inoppurtune moments,” sark growled and headed to pick up the phone. “send him up.” he hung up the phone. “simon again.”
“he works quickly,” sydney noticed.
“he’s the best,” sark shrugged. he paused before continuing. “as much as i hate to say it, we should get dressed. no distractions.”
she smiled. “no distractions.”
he follwed her to the bedroom, watching the way her hips swung as she walked. he quickly pulled on jeans and went to answer simon’s knock, buttoning an un-ironed shirt as he went. sydney dressed for comfort in baggy capris and a sleeveless top, and headed to the living room.
simon was opening his laptop, sark was sipping at orange juice. they didn’t talk, but sydney could tell there was an unspoken truce between them. they both knew simon was the best at this kind of work; they both knew sark could kill simon with a flick of his wrist; most of all they both knew that they couldn’t be at each others’ throats if they were supposed to work together.
sydney smiled a good morning at simon and took the orange juice sark offered her.
“you left almost immediately after your father’s death, right?” he asked.
“yes.”
sydney wondered what was on his computer screen that was so needed. he seemed to never let his eyes waver from it.
“the police ruled it a suicide,” simon informed her.
“what?!” she exclaimed.
“anyone who knew jack bristow would know he would never commit suicide,” sark sounded dark, and his eyes swirled to match his voice.
“that’s just it. with sydney gone, the police coulnd’t find anyone who knew him,” simon explained. he typed something quickly. “here, look at this. it’s the suicide note found with the body.”
sydney grimaced, thinking of her father as ‘the body.’ nonetheless she and sark peered over simon’s shoulders and read the note on the computer.
“it’s his handwriting,” sydney said.
“there are computers that can analyze less than a page of a person’s handwriting and duplicate it exactly, writing whatever one programs into it,” simon replied.
“this may be his handwriting, but it is not jack,” sark’s voice was low and angry.
“of course not. the language is not jack. any idea though?” simon asked.
“sloane,” it was almost a whisper. but sydney’s voice grew along with her anger. “it’s definitely sloane. i know the way he talks about me. that stupid son of a b****.”
sark put a hand on her shoulder. it was an act of compassion. simple, but caring. sydney took a breath.
“but also, sloane knows that i would realize it was him. he knows that he would be my first suspect, and he knows that i would recognize the way he spoke of me,” she said. “so what is his motive? why did he want to make sure i knew?”
“i know sloane is an arse of a man,” simon said. “would he do it just to rub it in your face?”
“as angry as he would be at my father for telling me the truth, he truly did care for me in a sick way. i don’t think he would do that to hurt me. he cared for my father as well. which is why i find this so strange. sloane did care for my father, if he was capable of emotion. so why did he set it up to look like a suicide? to take all dignity from him?” sydney was so unsure.
“would your father rather have killed himself, or have not defended himself against an attacker?” simon asked quietly.
sydney wondered herself. she did not know her father well enough to know for certain. she bit back tears.
“i don’t know. i’m going to go talk to my mom.”
sydney grabbed a coat on her way out the door. sark gave simon a quick nod and followed her. but the elevator door had closed by the time he reached it.
sydney was still holding in her emotions, slowly descending in the elevator with a new bellboy. sark was racing down flight after flight of stairs, his untucked shirt flapping as he leapt down the steps.
he made it to the lobby just in time to see her head to the street. she pulled out a cell phone. he knew he had some time to catch his breath, so he slowed his pace. he weaved through the crowd on the street, always keeping her in his sights. she was on the phone, no doubt talking to her mother, finding a place to meet or something similar. sark caught up to her as she rounded a street corner. he slipped his hand into hers before she had even realized he was next to her. once more she had to stop her emotions from overflowing.
“i’ll be there,” sydney said and hung up the phone.
she placed it back in her coat pocket and stopped walking. though the crowd had not lessened and people continuously bumped into the couple as they passed, sydney kissed him. they stood in the middle of the sidewalk and kissed. finally she pulled away.
“i need to do this on my own,” she said quietly. “no matter our relationship, this is something i need to do for myself, by myself.”
this time it was he who had to compartmentalize in simply a blink of the eye. but he did, and he nodded.
“i understand,” he said just as quietly. “but i just want you to know, it doesn’t matter if you think it makes me seem like i’m fifteen, i love you.”
god she hated moments where she felt this vulernable, this honest.
“i love you too,” she whispered and slipped away with the crowd.
sydney hated when sark made her feel that way. she hated how much she loved him. she knew she shouldn’t love him, not in this business, not when people died so easily. and she knew that he knew just the same. she did not like the emotional side of sydney bristow that she still kept. she liked who she was now. the angry, vengeful, dark, sydney collins. she didn’t miss sydney bristow. she preferred the way she was now. she preferred an eye for an eye. she preferred taking matters into her own hands. she preferred living in the shadows, being gone with the blink of an eye, leaving everyone unsure she was even there. the only thing she missed about being sydney bristow was obvious. she preferred meeting her dad for coffee to talk about her presumed dead mom, instead of meeting her mom for coffee to talk about her dead dad.
nonetheless sydney headed to “cup of joe’s.” it was just a few blocks away, and she walked it in an attempt to clear her head, or at least calm her down a little. it did neither, and she entered the café just as scared and angry as she was when she left the hotel. she saw her mother immediately, but paused to observe her. sydney knew irina noticed her entrance, but it seemed as though she were dissolved in a novel. the book was lying flat on the table, next to a plate topped with half a blueberry scone. a coffee cup lay on the other side of the book, black, sydney presumed. irina wore the same glasses she had the night before. her hair was again in a loose ponytail, only her outfit change. she wore a knee-length jean skirt, black sandals and a black low cut shirt with a red sash. the splash of red stood out like blood. even so, irina looked perfect; poised and beautiful, the type of woman men would kill for. no one in the café except sydney knew that men actually had.
sydney stepped to the counter and ordered an iced mocha. the cashier kept glancing from sydney to irina as he returned her change. sydney assumed he must have known irina. why else would she have chosen such a public place to meet? she had friends there, and the friend behind the counter realized that sydney was her daughter.
“thank you,” sydney managed a smile when she received her drink.
she sipped at it and headed to her mother’s table. irina didn’t look up when she sat down. instead she finished a paragraph, placed a bookmark in the book and closed it, then finally looked to her daughter.
once again, irina had to hide her surprise. her daughter’s face looked depressed, deeply saddened. her eyes were red with choked back tears. her fists constantly clenched and unclenched. yet underneath it all, there was a slight smile. something so wonderful even thinking of her father’s death couldn’t make it go away. irina could immediately guess what had happened. she knew she had looked the same when she realized she loved jack. but she didn’t say anything. her maternal instinct took over, telling her not to push a relationship. to let sydney decide was was discussed and what was kept private.
“would dad rather kill himself, or not fight against an attacker?” sydney asked.
she wanted to get immediately to business. she wanted to know the truth about her father’s death, to punish whoever did it, then to let it go away. she didn’t want any fluff, she just wanted it done.
“what?” irina replied. “you know him better than i.”
“no i don’t. you loved him. you lived with him. you knew everything about him.”
“but that was twenty years ago. he’s a changed man,” irina said.
they sat in silence, sydney looking at her, still expecting an answer.
“there is nothing more pitiful than a man who can’t defend himself,” irina explained. “your father knew that. …why do you ask?
“the police had ruled his death a suicide. sloane left a faked note. i thought it was strange. killing yourself seemed like a loss of all dignity and sloane wouldn’t have wanted that for dad, but simon pointed out that he might have thought it would be better than not defending himself,” sydney replied. “i just wanted to know why sloane acted in that way.”
“there are many more things behind sloane’s motives. this is not simply the end. something else occurred. something else always does with arvin sloane,” irina shook her head and took a sip of her coffee.
“simon is still looking into it.”
again there was silence. it was not comfortable silence, nor was it uncomfortable silence. it was a silence, reliving past moments that could have been the future. playing on the swings in the park. staying in a hotel and eating ice cream every day. mom, dad, daughter. the big happy dysfunctional family.
hope you like. had this written the day we went offline but couldn't post it. grr...anyway hope you like
m-c
sark brushed her hair off of her face. he loved to watch her sleep. but it wasn’t good, he constantaly told himself. it was an attatchment, an emotional attatchment that had become too much. no longer could he be cold and heartless. no longer could he separate business and sex, or in this case, love. he could no longer perform professionally. he no longer had a cool exterior that couldn’t be broken. now that he was inolved personally, all things changed. and no matter how much he loved sydney, he hated the attatchment.
sydney stirred, pulling sark back to the present. he smiled and kissed her forehead. eyes still closed she smiled and stretched.
“hey,” she opened her eyes.
“hey.”
she rolled over to face him. he was beautiful.
“i ordered room service,” he said. “hash browns, heavy on the ketchup, two sunny-side up eggs, raisin toast and three pieces of bacon.”
“the best,” she beamed.
someone knocked on the penthouse door. room service was always timely. sark stood, pulled on his blue plaid boxer shorts and left to get breakfast.
sydney closed her eyes and took a breath. she imagined him still next to her, his naked body toned with perfect muscles. his touch tantalizing yet amazing. but with the faint odor of breakfast, the illusion faded and she stood to go to the real man.
sark had the table almost ready and the orange juice poured by the time sydney entered the room in a white terry cloth robe. he didn’t notice her presence. she watched him work, putting on the silverware perfectly straight, making sure the salt and pepper were on the table. he was still wearing nothing but his boxers. she couldn’t help but giggle; seeing him like that made her so happy. he walked over to her and kissed her lightly. it was times like these that made their relationship seem almost normal. the hotel phone rang. almost
“always at the most inoppurtune moments,” sark growled and headed to pick up the phone. “send him up.” he hung up the phone. “simon again.”
“he works quickly,” sydney noticed.
“he’s the best,” sark shrugged. he paused before continuing. “as much as i hate to say it, we should get dressed. no distractions.”
she smiled. “no distractions.”
he follwed her to the bedroom, watching the way her hips swung as she walked. he quickly pulled on jeans and went to answer simon’s knock, buttoning an un-ironed shirt as he went. sydney dressed for comfort in baggy capris and a sleeveless top, and headed to the living room.
simon was opening his laptop, sark was sipping at orange juice. they didn’t talk, but sydney could tell there was an unspoken truce between them. they both knew simon was the best at this kind of work; they both knew sark could kill simon with a flick of his wrist; most of all they both knew that they couldn’t be at each others’ throats if they were supposed to work together.
sydney smiled a good morning at simon and took the orange juice sark offered her.
“you left almost immediately after your father’s death, right?” he asked.
“yes.”
sydney wondered what was on his computer screen that was so needed. he seemed to never let his eyes waver from it.
“the police ruled it a suicide,” simon informed her.
“what?!” she exclaimed.
“anyone who knew jack bristow would know he would never commit suicide,” sark sounded dark, and his eyes swirled to match his voice.
“that’s just it. with sydney gone, the police coulnd’t find anyone who knew him,” simon explained. he typed something quickly. “here, look at this. it’s the suicide note found with the body.”
sydney grimaced, thinking of her father as ‘the body.’ nonetheless she and sark peered over simon’s shoulders and read the note on the computer.
“it’s his handwriting,” sydney said.
“there are computers that can analyze less than a page of a person’s handwriting and duplicate it exactly, writing whatever one programs into it,” simon replied.
“this may be his handwriting, but it is not jack,” sark’s voice was low and angry.
“of course not. the language is not jack. any idea though?” simon asked.
“sloane,” it was almost a whisper. but sydney’s voice grew along with her anger. “it’s definitely sloane. i know the way he talks about me. that stupid son of a b****.”
sark put a hand on her shoulder. it was an act of compassion. simple, but caring. sydney took a breath.
“but also, sloane knows that i would realize it was him. he knows that he would be my first suspect, and he knows that i would recognize the way he spoke of me,” she said. “so what is his motive? why did he want to make sure i knew?”
“i know sloane is an arse of a man,” simon said. “would he do it just to rub it in your face?”
“as angry as he would be at my father for telling me the truth, he truly did care for me in a sick way. i don’t think he would do that to hurt me. he cared for my father as well. which is why i find this so strange. sloane did care for my father, if he was capable of emotion. so why did he set it up to look like a suicide? to take all dignity from him?” sydney was so unsure.
“would your father rather have killed himself, or have not defended himself against an attacker?” simon asked quietly.
sydney wondered herself. she did not know her father well enough to know for certain. she bit back tears.
“i don’t know. i’m going to go talk to my mom.”
sydney grabbed a coat on her way out the door. sark gave simon a quick nod and followed her. but the elevator door had closed by the time he reached it.
sydney was still holding in her emotions, slowly descending in the elevator with a new bellboy. sark was racing down flight after flight of stairs, his untucked shirt flapping as he leapt down the steps.
he made it to the lobby just in time to see her head to the street. she pulled out a cell phone. he knew he had some time to catch his breath, so he slowed his pace. he weaved through the crowd on the street, always keeping her in his sights. she was on the phone, no doubt talking to her mother, finding a place to meet or something similar. sark caught up to her as she rounded a street corner. he slipped his hand into hers before she had even realized he was next to her. once more she had to stop her emotions from overflowing.
“i’ll be there,” sydney said and hung up the phone.
she placed it back in her coat pocket and stopped walking. though the crowd had not lessened and people continuously bumped into the couple as they passed, sydney kissed him. they stood in the middle of the sidewalk and kissed. finally she pulled away.
“i need to do this on my own,” she said quietly. “no matter our relationship, this is something i need to do for myself, by myself.”
this time it was he who had to compartmentalize in simply a blink of the eye. but he did, and he nodded.
“i understand,” he said just as quietly. “but i just want you to know, it doesn’t matter if you think it makes me seem like i’m fifteen, i love you.”
god she hated moments where she felt this vulernable, this honest.
“i love you too,” she whispered and slipped away with the crowd.
sydney hated when sark made her feel that way. she hated how much she loved him. she knew she shouldn’t love him, not in this business, not when people died so easily. and she knew that he knew just the same. she did not like the emotional side of sydney bristow that she still kept. she liked who she was now. the angry, vengeful, dark, sydney collins. she didn’t miss sydney bristow. she preferred the way she was now. she preferred an eye for an eye. she preferred taking matters into her own hands. she preferred living in the shadows, being gone with the blink of an eye, leaving everyone unsure she was even there. the only thing she missed about being sydney bristow was obvious. she preferred meeting her dad for coffee to talk about her presumed dead mom, instead of meeting her mom for coffee to talk about her dead dad.
nonetheless sydney headed to “cup of joe’s.” it was just a few blocks away, and she walked it in an attempt to clear her head, or at least calm her down a little. it did neither, and she entered the café just as scared and angry as she was when she left the hotel. she saw her mother immediately, but paused to observe her. sydney knew irina noticed her entrance, but it seemed as though she were dissolved in a novel. the book was lying flat on the table, next to a plate topped with half a blueberry scone. a coffee cup lay on the other side of the book, black, sydney presumed. irina wore the same glasses she had the night before. her hair was again in a loose ponytail, only her outfit change. she wore a knee-length jean skirt, black sandals and a black low cut shirt with a red sash. the splash of red stood out like blood. even so, irina looked perfect; poised and beautiful, the type of woman men would kill for. no one in the café except sydney knew that men actually had.
sydney stepped to the counter and ordered an iced mocha. the cashier kept glancing from sydney to irina as he returned her change. sydney assumed he must have known irina. why else would she have chosen such a public place to meet? she had friends there, and the friend behind the counter realized that sydney was her daughter.
“thank you,” sydney managed a smile when she received her drink.
she sipped at it and headed to her mother’s table. irina didn’t look up when she sat down. instead she finished a paragraph, placed a bookmark in the book and closed it, then finally looked to her daughter.
once again, irina had to hide her surprise. her daughter’s face looked depressed, deeply saddened. her eyes were red with choked back tears. her fists constantly clenched and unclenched. yet underneath it all, there was a slight smile. something so wonderful even thinking of her father’s death couldn’t make it go away. irina could immediately guess what had happened. she knew she had looked the same when she realized she loved jack. but she didn’t say anything. her maternal instinct took over, telling her not to push a relationship. to let sydney decide was was discussed and what was kept private.
“would dad rather kill himself, or not fight against an attacker?” sydney asked.
she wanted to get immediately to business. she wanted to know the truth about her father’s death, to punish whoever did it, then to let it go away. she didn’t want any fluff, she just wanted it done.
“what?” irina replied. “you know him better than i.”
“no i don’t. you loved him. you lived with him. you knew everything about him.”
“but that was twenty years ago. he’s a changed man,” irina said.
they sat in silence, sydney looking at her, still expecting an answer.
“there is nothing more pitiful than a man who can’t defend himself,” irina explained. “your father knew that. …why do you ask?
“the police had ruled his death a suicide. sloane left a faked note. i thought it was strange. killing yourself seemed like a loss of all dignity and sloane wouldn’t have wanted that for dad, but simon pointed out that he might have thought it would be better than not defending himself,” sydney replied. “i just wanted to know why sloane acted in that way.”
“there are many more things behind sloane’s motives. this is not simply the end. something else occurred. something else always does with arvin sloane,” irina shook her head and took a sip of her coffee.
“simon is still looking into it.”
again there was silence. it was not comfortable silence, nor was it uncomfortable silence. it was a silence, reliving past moments that could have been the future. playing on the swings in the park. staying in a hotel and eating ice cream every day. mom, dad, daughter. the big happy dysfunctional family.
hope you like. had this written the day we went offline but couldn't post it. grr...anyway hope you like
m-c
AliasJuJuBub
Cadet
amazing chapter. the sarkney's great but jack's death is so depressing
update soon, and thanx for the pm
but jack's death is so depressing update soon, and thanx for the pm
Galicdreamer
These Words, From My Heart...
Another good job m-c....Jack death a sucide....I DON'T THINK SO!!!
I love the connection between Sark and Sid...trying to fight what they can't. Can't wait for the next chapter.
I love the connection between Sark and Sid...trying to fight what they can't. Can't wait for the next chapter.