Lost and Found
- Thread starter amy lynn
- Start date
A/N: Here’s chapter four. Writing my thesis got a little boring and I decided to procrastinate a bit by writing this. It’s mainly a conversational chapter, but I’m setting the stage for some non-dream Sarkney action…
On a side note, this story has almost completely changed focus from what I had in mind when I started it…craziness. Also, feel free to PM me with any grammatical/spelling errors. I'm very careful about proofreading, but sometimes they just slip by me and I'm happy to fix it! Hope you enjoy!!
PM’s will go out after I update!
Oh yes, and all the lyrics are from various songs by one of the greatest bands ever, Radiohead.
Chapter 4.
Waiting
after years of waiting * after years of waiting * nothing came * and as your life flashed before your eyes you realize you were looking the wrong place
They reached the safe house without any further conversation. It wasn’t yet the time for talking. Sydney was still digesting the day’s events. Sark was content just to be driving with her next to him. Soon, they would need to clear the air. Or rather, he would need to clear the air. However, he wasn’t ready yet, and until then, there was nothing else to say.
The drive was not very far, but it seemed to take forever. Sark was constantly watching to make sure they weren’t being followed. Sydney was drifting in and out of conscious thought. About 15 minutes later, they arrived. The car pulled to a stop, But Sydney was still lost in thought. Sark’s voice snapped her back to reality.
“Do I need to carry you into the house, Agent Bristow, or are you capable of walking?” She could hear the biting sarcasm in his voice. She really wasn’t in the mood for his attitude.
“Sark just shut it. Can’t you say anything that isn’t dripping in sarcasm?” She questioned him tiredly.
“Tired of our fun and games, Sydney?”
“God. There you go again. You know what I’m tired of? I’m tired of you.”
Ouch. Direct and to the point. He really was playing the cold hearted assassin very well. Oh well, it was only a matter of time before she finally remembered everything. Or at least, that is what he hoped.
They walked the rest of the way to the house in silence. She was mentally kicking herself for not running away when she had the chance to. Then she remembered the way her body had reacted to his touch. She felt even more lost. And that much more determined to figure out what the hell Sark was up to.
“Your bedroom is the third door on the left. I have some clothes and other personal items stocked that should suit you. I can have somebody pick up your luggage from the hotel tomorrow. Feel free to rest for a while. I have some work to do in the study.” With those words, he disappeared.
Sydney let out a deep breath. The man was starting to unnerve her. He had the ability of acting so cold and unfeeling. Did he never feel anything? She thought to herself, as she unpacked her suitcases. And how the hell did he know what to buy me? It’s not like we know that much about each others personal lives. She sighed yet again. Just one more mystery to add to the enigma that is Sark.
After she finished unpacking, she lay down on the bed, trying to relax a bit. However, she was too keyed up to sleep, or even stay still. She decided to wander around the house. She found the study that Sark was working in. He was alternately reading files intently and typing furiously on his laptop. It took him a full 10 minutes to realize that she was watching him.
“What are you doing here, Sydney?”
“Just wandering. I was restless. I want to know what’s going on.”
“I have some more work to do. Once I get it done, I’ll come find you and tell you as much as I can.”
“You think I’m going to leave you alone? Hell no, Sark. I’m going to wait here until you talk to me.”
“Suit yourself.”
So she waited.
***********************
i don't know why you bother
nothing's ever good enough for you.
(by the way) i was there and it wasn't like that.
you've come here just to start a fight
you had to piss on our parade
you had to shred our big day
you had to ruin it for all concerned
in a drunken punch-up at a wedding
yeah
hypocrite opportunist
don't infect me with your poison
Vaughn’s anger had not subsided at all during his flight. He drove incredibly fast over to Weiss’ apartment. When he got there, he stormed in without knocking.
“Weiss! I’m here. You ready? We have to get over to the JTF right now.” Vaughn’s loud yelling woke Weiss up from his nap on the couch.
“Geez man, you’re like the neighbor’s yippy little dog that won’t shut up.”
Vaughn looked wounded. “What’s your problem?”
“What’s my problem, Mike? This whole thing is my problem. First of all, I told you not to follow her. Second, we have no proof as to where she has gone. All we have is your emotional reaction. I’m not going to see Dixon. Today is my day off, in case you forgot. I plan on going back to sleep as soon as you leave.”
“You have to come with me. You’re the only other one who knows about this. You at least have to back up my story about what happened last year.”
“Fine, Mike. But I’m not going to support this new theory of yours that she’s gone back to Sark.”
“Fine. Let’s go, then. And now would be great.”
“Calm down, man. Let me pull myself together.”
Forty-five minutes later, the avenging guardian angel, Michael Vaughn, and his reluctant partner in crime, Eric Weiss, whirled through the JTF building. Vaughn was practically sprinting, and Weiss was just trying to keep up with his foolish friend.
It seemed like everybody stopped what they were doing as the two men went into Director Dixon’s office. It started a buzz of speculation around the office. What was going on? It must have something to do with Sydney. That Agent Vaughn seems like he’s losing it. These and other such comments were being whispered all around the office.
Meanwhile, Dixon was on the verge of seriously losing it. He had listened to Vaughn and Weiss’ story about how they came across Sydney and Sark together a year ago, while on a mission in Lisbon. He listened to how the two men had first found her, blatantly kissing Sark on their hotel balcony. Then how, later that night, the two men had come across the duo on the actual mission. He listened to the description of how Sark and Sydney had intercepted the package first and how Sydney had killed the messenger, ruthlessly. He listened to all of this and was furious.
“How could you have kept this secret for a whole year?” Dixon was angry, but not for the reasons one might think. However, he was in Director Mode…appearing calm at all times.
Vaughn was the one who responded, as it had been his insistence that Sydney’s fate remain a secret. “We all thought Sydney was dead. Then we saw her in Lisbon. At first I thought she had been brainwashed, but later it became obvious that she wasn’t. I didn’t want her to have the CIA after her.”
“So, why now? Agent Weiss? You’ve been pretty quiet through this whole story.”
“Sir, I am only here to confirm the truth of our story about the mission one year ago. I wish to have no further association with what Mike is about to say.”
“Your objections are noted, Agent Weiss. Now, Agent Vaughn. I ask again, why now?”
“I followed Sydney to Colorado. I wanted to speak with her about what Weiss and I had seen. I felt awful about the way that I have been treating her the past few weeks. When I got to Colorado, she was nowhere to be found. I know that she’s with him again. She must have remembered. And I no longer believe that she should be protected. She appears to have made her own decision about her loyalties. I was willing to overlook this before, because maybe she had no choice. But I do not believe this to be the case anymore.”
“Well, Agent Vaughn, as much as I understand some of your reasoning, you have not presented me with any sort of proof that this theory of yours stands. I cannot make a move on speculation alone. Furthermore, if I find out about any attempts of further investigation, you will be suspended. That goes for you as well, Agent Weiss. That is all. You are dismissed.”
Vaughn left Dixon’s office dejected. Weiss left pissed off. His best friend had better not do anything stupid, because now his ass was on the line as well.
As soon as they left, Dixon’s calm façade faded. He frantically reached for his phone and dialed the phone number of the person who needed to hear this story the most. “Jack? It’s Dixon. Where are you? We may have a problem.”
***********************
They had been sitting in silence for a while. She was curled up on the couch, staring at him intently. He was sitting at his desk, typing away. Every once and a while, he would look up to see her stare. He would look away quickly, as if her gaze burned him.
Watching Sark work was interesting for Sydney. While he was busy reading the files, she could see a myriad of emotions crossing his face. He must not realize what he was doing; usually he hid his emotions just as well as her father did. But while he worked, he could not cover up the emotions flashing on his face.
First, there was confusion. He read something. Then he stared blankly at the page, scrunched his face quickly, and then read it again.
Next was recognition. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, at what he was reading, as the words came together to form a coherent sentence in his mind.
Then anger. She could see the fire building up in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to kill somebody. Obviously what he was reading was not good news.
Finally, the coldness came again. But she could see that his brain was working: plotting and planning. It was not an empty stare, as she had so often thought. It was a stare full of concentration and well-hidden fury.
It was enlightening, watching him work. She began to understand a little bit about him. He had always been cold and emotionless when they had sparred on missions. But that wasn’t all of him. That was business. And in business, he acted just like her: focused on the mission at hand. She now saw him expressing different emotions. It was definitely a new experience. She was enthralled. She could not stop staring. She wanted to see what other emotions she might recognize on his face.
It was at this point that he decided to acknowledge her presence again. “I suppose you really aren’t going to leave until we talk, are you?” His voice sounded tired, and a bit resigned.
“Nope. I’m going to stay right here. If you’re uncomfortable with my being here, you might as well start talking.” She was firm in her statement. There was no mistaking the Bristow resolve.
“You are here because there is a doctor here that may be able to help you with your memory…problem.”
“And why are you here?” She asked with a hint of his sarcastic tone thrown back at him.
“That’s not important right now.” He was starting to get tired of her questions. He wasn’t ready to handle them. It had already been a long day and it wasn’t even noon yet.
“What if I think it is? Why won’t you tell me?” She almost sounded like a petulant child who whose parents were denying her something she wanted.
“Well Sydney, I’m afraid that doesn’t really matter much.” She could hear the anger starting to build in his voice. Good. She thought. Anything but the sarcasm and cold disdain.
“I still think it does,” she countered teasingly, a slight gleam in her eyes. She knew if she pushed him far enough, he would break.
And she was right. It didn’t even take much provocation.
All of the sudden, he was up out of his chair and had pulled her up off the couch. He slammed her against the wall, and blocked her with his own body.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Sark?” She was royally pissed. Nobody treated her like this.
He pressed himself up against her until they were touching, practically from head to toe. He was all fire and he was making her skin start to burn. She could feel his erection pressed against her, and she could see how much he wanted her. Which confused her. So she asked him again, this time her voice faltering a bit, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You want to know why I’m here, Sydney F***ing Bristow? Do you really want to know?”
His close proximity was causing all sorts of sensations to run throughout her body: nervousness, excitement, and, surprisingly, desire. She was partially afraid of his answer; however she knew that it was of utmost importance to hear what he had to say. “Yes. I really want to know,” she answered him quietly.
“I’m here because I have to be. I’m here because, while you may not remember any of it, I do. Two years Sydney. The whole time we were together. Gathering intelligence. Killing. F***ing. Do you need me to continue?” He cringed inwardly at his words, but he knew it had to be this way. It was better for her to be angry at him. It was better for her to think it was just meaningless f***ing. It would be more believable for her that way.
She pushed against him with all of her strength, freeing herself from his trap. She walked as calmly as possible out of the room. When she had put enough distance between them, she turned back. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing. But you better stop. Now.” With that, she slammed the door behind her, and he could hear her walk away from the study.
Of course, she didn’t make it very far. She had turned around and was on her way back to the study. She wasn’t satisfied with the answers she had received. She needed to know more. She was about to open the door, when she heard him speaking on the phone. The name that he used caught her attention.
He sank down onto the couch. S***. I shouldn’t have lost control. Damn that woman. She’s trouble. Nothing but trouble. He knew that he had to do some damage control. Sydney obviously wasn’t going to believe much of what he said; if anything. He didn’t even know if he could get her to the doctor tomorrow without a knock-down, drag-out fight.
He had a phone call to make. To the one person that could help him.
“Jack. Where the hell are you? There’s a bit of trouble. You know how to reach me.”
Now, he just had to wait.
But apparently he wasn’t going to have to wait long for another fight with Ms. Bristow. He heard her voice from the doorway, yet again. “If you’re calling the Jack I think you are, you better start explaining. And this time, I want the whole truth."
“Eavesdropping, Sydney? You’re shameless. Besides, don’t you know that nothing good ever comes from that.”
“While I appreciate that you’ve recovered some of your sarcasm, the time for jokes is over. What does my father have to do with this?”
Well, s***. It was going to be a long day.
**********************
That there
That's not me
I go
Where I please
I walk through walls
He heard his cell phone ring. He couldn’t get to it. S***. What seemed like hours later, he heard it ring again. He still couldn’t get to it. Double s***. How had he gotten here? He’s Jack Bristow. He’s supposed to be invincible. But now, he can’t seem to move.
This was not a good sign.
Strobe lights and blown speakers
Fireworks and hurricanes
I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
I'm not here
On a side note, this story has almost completely changed focus from what I had in mind when I started it…craziness. Also, feel free to PM me with any grammatical/spelling errors. I'm very careful about proofreading, but sometimes they just slip by me and I'm happy to fix it! Hope you enjoy!!
PM’s will go out after I update!
Oh yes, and all the lyrics are from various songs by one of the greatest bands ever, Radiohead.
Chapter 4.
Waiting
after years of waiting * after years of waiting * nothing came * and as your life flashed before your eyes you realize you were looking the wrong place
They reached the safe house without any further conversation. It wasn’t yet the time for talking. Sydney was still digesting the day’s events. Sark was content just to be driving with her next to him. Soon, they would need to clear the air. Or rather, he would need to clear the air. However, he wasn’t ready yet, and until then, there was nothing else to say.
The drive was not very far, but it seemed to take forever. Sark was constantly watching to make sure they weren’t being followed. Sydney was drifting in and out of conscious thought. About 15 minutes later, they arrived. The car pulled to a stop, But Sydney was still lost in thought. Sark’s voice snapped her back to reality.
“Do I need to carry you into the house, Agent Bristow, or are you capable of walking?” She could hear the biting sarcasm in his voice. She really wasn’t in the mood for his attitude.
“Sark just shut it. Can’t you say anything that isn’t dripping in sarcasm?” She questioned him tiredly.
“Tired of our fun and games, Sydney?”
“God. There you go again. You know what I’m tired of? I’m tired of you.”
Ouch. Direct and to the point. He really was playing the cold hearted assassin very well. Oh well, it was only a matter of time before she finally remembered everything. Or at least, that is what he hoped.
They walked the rest of the way to the house in silence. She was mentally kicking herself for not running away when she had the chance to. Then she remembered the way her body had reacted to his touch. She felt even more lost. And that much more determined to figure out what the hell Sark was up to.
“Your bedroom is the third door on the left. I have some clothes and other personal items stocked that should suit you. I can have somebody pick up your luggage from the hotel tomorrow. Feel free to rest for a while. I have some work to do in the study.” With those words, he disappeared.
Sydney let out a deep breath. The man was starting to unnerve her. He had the ability of acting so cold and unfeeling. Did he never feel anything? She thought to herself, as she unpacked her suitcases. And how the hell did he know what to buy me? It’s not like we know that much about each others personal lives. She sighed yet again. Just one more mystery to add to the enigma that is Sark.
After she finished unpacking, she lay down on the bed, trying to relax a bit. However, she was too keyed up to sleep, or even stay still. She decided to wander around the house. She found the study that Sark was working in. He was alternately reading files intently and typing furiously on his laptop. It took him a full 10 minutes to realize that she was watching him.
“What are you doing here, Sydney?”
“Just wandering. I was restless. I want to know what’s going on.”
“I have some more work to do. Once I get it done, I’ll come find you and tell you as much as I can.”
“You think I’m going to leave you alone? Hell no, Sark. I’m going to wait here until you talk to me.”
“Suit yourself.”
So she waited.
***********************
i don't know why you bother
nothing's ever good enough for you.
(by the way) i was there and it wasn't like that.
you've come here just to start a fight
you had to piss on our parade
you had to shred our big day
you had to ruin it for all concerned
in a drunken punch-up at a wedding
yeah
hypocrite opportunist
don't infect me with your poison
Vaughn’s anger had not subsided at all during his flight. He drove incredibly fast over to Weiss’ apartment. When he got there, he stormed in without knocking.
“Weiss! I’m here. You ready? We have to get over to the JTF right now.” Vaughn’s loud yelling woke Weiss up from his nap on the couch.
“Geez man, you’re like the neighbor’s yippy little dog that won’t shut up.”
Vaughn looked wounded. “What’s your problem?”
“What’s my problem, Mike? This whole thing is my problem. First of all, I told you not to follow her. Second, we have no proof as to where she has gone. All we have is your emotional reaction. I’m not going to see Dixon. Today is my day off, in case you forgot. I plan on going back to sleep as soon as you leave.”
“You have to come with me. You’re the only other one who knows about this. You at least have to back up my story about what happened last year.”
“Fine, Mike. But I’m not going to support this new theory of yours that she’s gone back to Sark.”
“Fine. Let’s go, then. And now would be great.”
“Calm down, man. Let me pull myself together.”
Forty-five minutes later, the avenging guardian angel, Michael Vaughn, and his reluctant partner in crime, Eric Weiss, whirled through the JTF building. Vaughn was practically sprinting, and Weiss was just trying to keep up with his foolish friend.
It seemed like everybody stopped what they were doing as the two men went into Director Dixon’s office. It started a buzz of speculation around the office. What was going on? It must have something to do with Sydney. That Agent Vaughn seems like he’s losing it. These and other such comments were being whispered all around the office.
Meanwhile, Dixon was on the verge of seriously losing it. He had listened to Vaughn and Weiss’ story about how they came across Sydney and Sark together a year ago, while on a mission in Lisbon. He listened to how the two men had first found her, blatantly kissing Sark on their hotel balcony. Then how, later that night, the two men had come across the duo on the actual mission. He listened to the description of how Sark and Sydney had intercepted the package first and how Sydney had killed the messenger, ruthlessly. He listened to all of this and was furious.
“How could you have kept this secret for a whole year?” Dixon was angry, but not for the reasons one might think. However, he was in Director Mode…appearing calm at all times.
Vaughn was the one who responded, as it had been his insistence that Sydney’s fate remain a secret. “We all thought Sydney was dead. Then we saw her in Lisbon. At first I thought she had been brainwashed, but later it became obvious that she wasn’t. I didn’t want her to have the CIA after her.”
“So, why now? Agent Weiss? You’ve been pretty quiet through this whole story.”
“Sir, I am only here to confirm the truth of our story about the mission one year ago. I wish to have no further association with what Mike is about to say.”
“Your objections are noted, Agent Weiss. Now, Agent Vaughn. I ask again, why now?”
“I followed Sydney to Colorado. I wanted to speak with her about what Weiss and I had seen. I felt awful about the way that I have been treating her the past few weeks. When I got to Colorado, she was nowhere to be found. I know that she’s with him again. She must have remembered. And I no longer believe that she should be protected. She appears to have made her own decision about her loyalties. I was willing to overlook this before, because maybe she had no choice. But I do not believe this to be the case anymore.”
“Well, Agent Vaughn, as much as I understand some of your reasoning, you have not presented me with any sort of proof that this theory of yours stands. I cannot make a move on speculation alone. Furthermore, if I find out about any attempts of further investigation, you will be suspended. That goes for you as well, Agent Weiss. That is all. You are dismissed.”
Vaughn left Dixon’s office dejected. Weiss left pissed off. His best friend had better not do anything stupid, because now his ass was on the line as well.
As soon as they left, Dixon’s calm façade faded. He frantically reached for his phone and dialed the phone number of the person who needed to hear this story the most. “Jack? It’s Dixon. Where are you? We may have a problem.”
***********************
They had been sitting in silence for a while. She was curled up on the couch, staring at him intently. He was sitting at his desk, typing away. Every once and a while, he would look up to see her stare. He would look away quickly, as if her gaze burned him.
Watching Sark work was interesting for Sydney. While he was busy reading the files, she could see a myriad of emotions crossing his face. He must not realize what he was doing; usually he hid his emotions just as well as her father did. But while he worked, he could not cover up the emotions flashing on his face.
First, there was confusion. He read something. Then he stared blankly at the page, scrunched his face quickly, and then read it again.
Next was recognition. He nodded, almost imperceptibly, at what he was reading, as the words came together to form a coherent sentence in his mind.
Then anger. She could see the fire building up in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to kill somebody. Obviously what he was reading was not good news.
Finally, the coldness came again. But she could see that his brain was working: plotting and planning. It was not an empty stare, as she had so often thought. It was a stare full of concentration and well-hidden fury.
It was enlightening, watching him work. She began to understand a little bit about him. He had always been cold and emotionless when they had sparred on missions. But that wasn’t all of him. That was business. And in business, he acted just like her: focused on the mission at hand. She now saw him expressing different emotions. It was definitely a new experience. She was enthralled. She could not stop staring. She wanted to see what other emotions she might recognize on his face.
It was at this point that he decided to acknowledge her presence again. “I suppose you really aren’t going to leave until we talk, are you?” His voice sounded tired, and a bit resigned.
“Nope. I’m going to stay right here. If you’re uncomfortable with my being here, you might as well start talking.” She was firm in her statement. There was no mistaking the Bristow resolve.
“You are here because there is a doctor here that may be able to help you with your memory…problem.”
“And why are you here?” She asked with a hint of his sarcastic tone thrown back at him.
“That’s not important right now.” He was starting to get tired of her questions. He wasn’t ready to handle them. It had already been a long day and it wasn’t even noon yet.
“What if I think it is? Why won’t you tell me?” She almost sounded like a petulant child who whose parents were denying her something she wanted.
“Well Sydney, I’m afraid that doesn’t really matter much.” She could hear the anger starting to build in his voice. Good. She thought. Anything but the sarcasm and cold disdain.
“I still think it does,” she countered teasingly, a slight gleam in her eyes. She knew if she pushed him far enough, he would break.
And she was right. It didn’t even take much provocation.
All of the sudden, he was up out of his chair and had pulled her up off the couch. He slammed her against the wall, and blocked her with his own body.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Sark?” She was royally pissed. Nobody treated her like this.
He pressed himself up against her until they were touching, practically from head to toe. He was all fire and he was making her skin start to burn. She could feel his erection pressed against her, and she could see how much he wanted her. Which confused her. So she asked him again, this time her voice faltering a bit, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“You want to know why I’m here, Sydney F***ing Bristow? Do you really want to know?”
His close proximity was causing all sorts of sensations to run throughout her body: nervousness, excitement, and, surprisingly, desire. She was partially afraid of his answer; however she knew that it was of utmost importance to hear what he had to say. “Yes. I really want to know,” she answered him quietly.
“I’m here because I have to be. I’m here because, while you may not remember any of it, I do. Two years Sydney. The whole time we were together. Gathering intelligence. Killing. F***ing. Do you need me to continue?” He cringed inwardly at his words, but he knew it had to be this way. It was better for her to be angry at him. It was better for her to think it was just meaningless f***ing. It would be more believable for her that way.
She pushed against him with all of her strength, freeing herself from his trap. She walked as calmly as possible out of the room. When she had put enough distance between them, she turned back. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing. But you better stop. Now.” With that, she slammed the door behind her, and he could hear her walk away from the study.
Of course, she didn’t make it very far. She had turned around and was on her way back to the study. She wasn’t satisfied with the answers she had received. She needed to know more. She was about to open the door, when she heard him speaking on the phone. The name that he used caught her attention.
He sank down onto the couch. S***. I shouldn’t have lost control. Damn that woman. She’s trouble. Nothing but trouble. He knew that he had to do some damage control. Sydney obviously wasn’t going to believe much of what he said; if anything. He didn’t even know if he could get her to the doctor tomorrow without a knock-down, drag-out fight.
He had a phone call to make. To the one person that could help him.
“Jack. Where the hell are you? There’s a bit of trouble. You know how to reach me.”
Now, he just had to wait.
But apparently he wasn’t going to have to wait long for another fight with Ms. Bristow. He heard her voice from the doorway, yet again. “If you’re calling the Jack I think you are, you better start explaining. And this time, I want the whole truth."
“Eavesdropping, Sydney? You’re shameless. Besides, don’t you know that nothing good ever comes from that.”
“While I appreciate that you’ve recovered some of your sarcasm, the time for jokes is over. What does my father have to do with this?”
Well, s***. It was going to be a long day.
**********************
That there
That's not me
I go
Where I please
I walk through walls
He heard his cell phone ring. He couldn’t get to it. S***. What seemed like hours later, he heard it ring again. He still couldn’t get to it. Double s***. How had he gotten here? He’s Jack Bristow. He’s supposed to be invincible. But now, he can’t seem to move.
This was not a good sign.
Strobe lights and blown speakers
Fireworks and hurricanes
I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
I'm not here
Quiet Disaster
I heart Chris Carrabba
Yay for procrastination! 
Amazing as always, Amy!
LOL. I love that last line, so she waited. And the way they're talking to each other... :lol:
Pfft. He's jealous!
Hmm... sounds like Dixon and Jack knew Syd was alive those two years??
Sydney may be trouble, but he loves her. No?
Sark... calling JACK?!
I was laughing my ass off over that quote. :rotflmao:
Uh oh... is Jack in trouble?!?!
Amazing as always, Amy!
Galicdreamer
These Words, From My Heart...
Wow Amy, that was amazing!! Great chapter. I really the fact that your involving everyone in the situation(?). Sark, Jack, Dixon...what a combination!
Can't wait for more!
Can't wait for more!
sydney-n-vaughn
Cadet
I'll try this again -- my first response is lost in cyber space...
WOW -- Sark & Syd in a full body press ..wow ..
Sark is talking to Jack??? And why can't Jack get the phone?? honecall: What's happening to him??
Great chapter -- thanks for the PM - I love it so far .. can't wait til you have time to update it again, but I also believe that school comes first, so finish those papers!!
J
WOW -- Sark & Syd in a full body press ..wow ..
Sark is talking to Jack???
And why can't Jack get the phone?? honecall: What's happening to him??Great chapter -- thanks for the PM - I love it so far .. can't wait til you have time to update it again, but I also believe that school comes first, so finish those papers!!
J
fivetoesonefoot
Cadet
wow...you're getting really good!!! you MUST pm me when you write more!!!!
I would just like to say thank you to everybody for their wonderful reviews! They always brighten up my day!
Thanks for being patient while I got my school work in order! I have successfully defended my thesis, which means all I have left this semester are a couple of ridiculously easy finals…and those aren’t for a couple of weeks! Then I graduate! Yikes :blink: Anyway, that means I have more time to write for fun! Yipee!!
Alas, there is no Sarkney hotness in this chapter…it’s a lot of back-story…to answer a few of your questions (i.e. Dixon/Jack/Sark and their collaboration). Some of the details of Sark’s prison release run parallel to the show…but with my own little twist…
Chapter 5.
Some Answers
The greatest Grace we can aspire to
Is the strength to see the wounded
Walk with the forgotten
And pull ourselves from the screaming blood of our losses
To fight on undaunted
All the more
Jewel
Sark was silent for a while, conflicting emotions written clearly on his face. She could tell that he wanted to talk to her, but he seemed afraid to do so. He got up from the couch and started to pace around the room. Sydney watched him curiously, wondering why he seemed so touchy about the subject.
She cleared her throat and spoke in what she hoped was a strong, calm tone, even though she was practically shaking inside at the mention of her father’s name. “Sark, how did you start working with my father? If ever was the time to tell the truth, now would be it. This is my father you are talking about.” He could see the pleading in her brown eyes. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. How could he deny her? He knew how much her father meant to her.
Sark narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to believe me? Because you didn’t seem inclined to believe anything I had to say about five minutes ago.”
Sydney sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. But I would like to have the chance to hear what you have to say and then make up my mind.”
He sighed, inwardly. He knew that was the best he was going to get out of her. So he began to explain.
“The short story is that I knew of Sloane’s plan to abduct you the night you fought with Allison. I also knew that I could use that knowledge to my benefit. I told your father about his plan, and once your father had secured your safety after the fight, I gained a release from the CIA.” He stopped there, knowing that she would likely interrupt him before he got too far anyway. And he was right.
She practically cut him off as he was speaking. “How about the whole story. Just for fun.”
“Of course, Sydney. I knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. I just wanted to get the short story out there so that you didn’t riddle me with questions while I told the story.”
She snorted in annoyance, but wisely refrained from saying anything.
“I’ll take that as a sign to continue with my story.” His tone of voice and the look on his face were almost challenging her to say something contradictory.
She just arched her eyebrow at him, meaning to say, of course, you idiot.
So Sark began the story…
**********
Sark was feeling slightly trapped in his CIA cell. It definitely had not been on his list of places he wanted to visit. But somehow, he ended up in CIA custody. He was seriously pissed off. Why the hell had Irina told them where he would be. That was the only way they could have found out in time to intercept him. Damn that woman. It was her fault he was stuck in here.
His mind was already starting to formulate a plan, however. He had some information that, in the right hands, could secure his release. He just hoped that whoever it was that they sent to interrogate him would be willing to make a deal.
Jack Bristow walked into the room, his famous poker face in place. This is good, thought Sark. He is exactly the person I should tell this to. That is, if he doesn’t kill me first. Sark knew that Jack Bristow was one dangerous man, CIA agent or not. Plus, a freshly tortured-by-Sloane Jack would be feeling especially ruthless.
“Mr. Sark. I just want you to know that it will be my distinct pleasure to be torturing you.” Jack’s voice was cold, unflinching. Sark knew this wasn’t an act. Jack Bristow was one hard man.
“Ah. The elder Agent Bristow. Why am I not surprised?” Sark knew that he was risking his life, using sarcasm on Jack, but if he got Bristow riled up, he was more likely to make a rash decision, and possibly make a deal for the information that Sark was privy to.
“I’ll only ask you once. Where is Irina Derevko? Where is Arvin Sloane?”
“You get straight to the point, I see. Well, you will get no information from me.” Come on Jack. You know you want to get angry. Just a little bit of emotion, then I’ll go in for the kill.
“We’ll see about that. I may be CIA, but believe me Sark; I know how to inflict pain.”
“You know, interrogating me really isn’t what you should be doing right now. Might I suggest you call your daughter to see how she is doing?” Let’s see what you think of that, Jack Bristow. I know how much you are willing to do to protect her.
“What does Sydney have to do with this?” Jack’s voice didn’t falter, but his tone changed ever so slightly. If Sark hadn’t been listening for it, he might not have heard. Ahh. There we go, Jack. Your desire to protect your daughter surfaces. That’s my ticket out of here.
“That’s all you will get out of me for the time being. However, if I were to be made more comfortable or even released…” Take the bait, Jack. Take the bait.
“If you think we are going to release you, you are sadly mistaken. However you will tell me what that comment about my daughter was supposed to mean.” Jack was good, very good. His poker face would have won him many games, if he actually had a life outside of work.
“Let’s just say, I really wouldn’t leave her alone any time tonight.” Which she no doubt is, since that idiot of an Agent, Michael Vaughn left her alone to come back for debriefing.
“And why is that?” There was a little more visible tension in Jack’s voice. No doubt due to the vast scenarios regarding Sydney’s welfare that was sure to be flashing in his mind.
“No more until I have an agreement to get out of here. You see, you need me to save her life.” There’s part of the bomb. There is a possibility she might die. You know you want to hear the rest now. You might not show it anywhere else, but I can see the fear in your eyes.
Jack was fuming on the inside. He had about enough of the cocky bastard’s attitude. But if he was telling the truth his daughter was in danger. That was enough to give Jack a scare.
“Tell me what you know. I can’t save Sydney if I don’t know anything.” And don’t you dare f*** around with me. The rest of the sentence was left unspoken, but the implication was fully clear.
“Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you.” That was Sark’s one ticket out of CIA custody. He wondered if that was why Irina had told him about Sloane’s plan, then subsequently had him arrested in Switzerland.
“I can’t just go to the director and get a pardon for you. But if you help me save Sydney’s life, I will be in your debt. If what you say turns out to be true, I will pay my debt by getting you out of here.”
*****************************
“…so I told your father about Sloane’s plan to abduct you. When your father got to your apartment, you were passed out after the fight with Allison. He reached you before Sloane did.” Sark was feeling slightly apprehensive after telling her the story.
“And clearly he paid his debt by getting you out of CIA custody, since you are standing in front of me today, claiming that we were together during the past two years.” She knew she was stating the obvious, but she was still trying to wrap her mind around what Sark had told her so far.
“Yes. First, he made sure you were safe. Then he waited around your apartment to watch for Sloane or his goons. He wanted to make sure I was telling the truth. When he was satisfied, he came up with a plan to get me out of custody, repaying his debt. Your father is quite clever. He has many people who owe him favors. He simply had one of them kidnap a CIA operative and make a trade: me for the agent.”
“Well that answers one of my questions. But why were you calling my father just now?” Clearly it seemed that the two were still in contact with one another. Maybe they were working together somehow? That seemed unlikely, but then again, this whole situation was not like anything that she could have imagined.
Sark sighed. “It is rather complicated. And you not having your memory of the past two years may make it hard to believe.”
“Humor me. I’m sure there is a short version you can tell in about two seconds.” She was getting more and more impatient, wanting to know the answers as soon as possible.
He laughed. Of course she would want the over-simplification. Life certainly was easier for her that way. “Your father is working deep cover for the CIA with Sloane. I am working freelance on the side, with you. Dixon is in the loop about Jack and you, but not me.”
“Okay. There is no way that you are going to get away with the short story on that one. Dixon knows?”
“Dixon knows that Jack is under deep cover, clearly.” He smirked at her, for perhaps the first time during the whole telling of the story. He couldn’t help it, her question had clearly been rhetorical.
“Sark, don’t be an ass. You know what I meant.” The look in her eyes made Sark want to laugh, but he kept the chuckle inside of him. Sydney certainly didn’t want to hear him laughing at her right now.
“Oh yes. Dixon knew you were alive. He also knew that you were doing freelance work for Jack. He was aware that you were also with me. I don’t know how, but Jack convinced him that I was an asset.
“Why wouldn’t Dixon give me any help when I came back with no memory, then?” That was just another part of the story that didn’t make any sense. But that seemed to be the norm today. Nothing about today made any sense to Sydney.
“I’m afraid only Dixon can answer that. But that will have to wait.” Sark really didn’t know the answer to that question. He had his own speculation, but nothing concrete. He didn’t want to worry Sydney unnecessarily.
“You’re right. I have one more question. What is going on with Sloane?” This was the part that troubled her the most. Knowing Sloane, and his Rambaldi obsession…and her link to the whole thing, she really wanted to know what he had been planning to use her for.
“For your own safety I’m afraid I can’t tell you that right now, Sydney. It is best if you remember it first.” Sark knew that she wouldn’t like the answer, but that was how it was going to have to be. It had been too painful for her the first time around, and he didn’t want to be the catalyst for that pain this time.
“What if I don’t get my memory back?” She asked softly, for the first time showing him her fear of remaining in the dark forever.
“We’ll figure that out if that happens. I am confident that you will find some answers tomorrow.”
Sydney was silent for a while. She knew that he was right. She knew that some things were too important to just tell her. Some things she had to know for herself. There was still one more thing on her mind, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle the answer she would receive on top of all of the new developments.
She really wanted to know what Sark had meant about them f***ing. She wanted to know if he was telling the truth. But she was almost afraid of the truth. Because if they were, and he was telling the truth about her two years, then she hadn’t been brainwashed at all; she had willingly slept with Sark.
She shivered; half with desire and half with fear.
He saw her shiver and wondered what she was thinking.
Sydney knew that he saw her shiver. However, after learning of Sark and her father’s alliance, albeit a shaky alliance, she was left feeling slightly vulnerable. She wasn’t ready yet to hear the full truth. So she left the room without saying anything. Some people might call it running away, but she knew that she couldn’t handle the truth just yet. She walked into her bedroom, and was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. She fell into bed, and was asleep in no time at all.
A little while after Sydney left the room, Sark realized that the house was completely quiet. He decided to go check on Sydney, and see how she was taking the news. He knocked on the door, but she didn’t answer. He opened it up slowly; making sure the safehouse had not been compromised.
As he slowly walked into the room, he saw her sleeping peacefully on the bed. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, unable to resist the pull of her magnetism. His desire for her was so strong. If he hadn’t been so good at what he did, he would have cracked so many times playing the cold-hearted assassin who didn’t give a s***.
But he did give a s***. As he sat there, staring at her sleeping form, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her forever. He lightly traced a hand over the features of her face. He brushed her hair away from her eyes, he traced her high cheekbones, his fingers slid across her lips; lips that had kissed his many times both with gentleness and with fiery passion.
This was getting too dangerous for him. He was grower harder by the minute. It had been too long since he had been inside of her, felt her body cradling him. He took his hand away from her face and got up to leave. As he did this, he heard her sigh heavily in her sleep. It was almost as if she was missing the touch of his hand.
As he was standing up, he felt her hand grab his wrist.
“Sark” she mumbled, half sleeping, “what are you doing in my room?”
He sighed and sat back down onto the edge of the bed. “Sometimes, Sydney, you ask too many questions. Are you really prepared for the answer?”
“No. But I still need to know.”
“How contradictory, which is so typical of you, by the way.” They both laughed softly, know that there was some truth to that statement.
She stopped laughing, and spoke in a very serious tone. “I had a dream a couple of nights ago. And again just now. A dream about a hotel room. A balcony. A bed. A man. One who called me love. One who made my skin tingle the way your touch seems to. But In both dreams I never saw his face. Even though he f***ed me with such passion, made love to me so sweetly. It wasn’t just a dream. It was like a memory.”
His heart nearly skipped a beat. He had called her love many times when they were together. Never while working, only in the privacy of the bedroom. Could this mean that she has a chance of recovering her memory? He hoped this was so. With this new development, he was more comfortable telling her part of their story, but not all of it. Some she would have to figure out on her own.
“I’ll tell you how we started working together. The rest will have to wait until you have your memory back.”
“Fine.” She had figured that was what he was going to say, so she didn’t fight it.
And so he began, yet again…
******************
When Jack found Sydney in her apartment, just a few moments before Sloane’s goons got there, she was unconscious; beaten, bruised, bloodied, and hanging on to life by a thin thread. He knew that any hospital around would not be safe. He took her to one of his private safehouses and called in a favor that a doctor owed him.
When he was satisfied that Sydney was going to live, and was able to travel, Jack took her to a very special hideaway. It was one that nobody knew about. He had bought the house on the Costa Rican beach specifically in case he needed to hide Sydney, or even himself away, for any reason.
When he was certain that she was safe and recuperating, Jack went back to LA to fulfill his promise to Sark. Jack took his debts seriously. For whatever reason, Sark had saved Sydney’s life. No doubt because he knew that was the one bargaining tool he could have used.
When the prisoner exchange took place, Jack had been unaware of the CIA’s plan B. Plan B was to shoot Sark, killing him, after the CIA agent had been released. Unfortunately for the CIA, but fortunately for Sark, the sniper they used was fairly incompetent. Sark was shot, in the neck-not the heart like planned, and was not killed. He was wounded quite severely, however, and was in need of a quiet place to heal.
So Jack brought him to the only place where Sark could not be traced back to him; the safehouse in Costa Rica. There Sark and Sydney were forced to live in the same house, both healing from severe physical and emotional trauma: Sydney with the death of Francie, though belated news really, and with the severe injuries of Will, and Sark with the death of Allison, whom while he may not have loved, had respected and admired, having known her most of their lives.
Six months later, when they were both back to full strength, Jack came to see Sark with a proposal. Jack was to be sent undercover with Sloane yet again. He knew that Sark was a valuable asset in the world of organized crime, and especially the world of Rambaldi, which Sloane was clearly obsessed with. He also knew that Sark worked in his own way, with methods that the CIA would never approve of directly. So they formed a sort of freelance partnership. Jack was undermining Sloane from the inside, which given their history was a bit difficult. So Sark came into the picture, undermining Sloane from the outside.
And so the uneasy partnership began…
**********************
“So where do I come into the picture?” She was curious. She didn’t think that her father would have liked for her to be involved in that business, after all Sloane had planned on taking her captive and using her for some devious purpose.
“You weren’t supposed to be a part of everything. Jack still wasn’t sure what Sloane had planned for you. It was dangerous. But you being you, well, you got bored with a life outside of the game. You realized that no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you got a rush out of missions. The thrill of adrenaline was missing in your life.”
Sydney snorted, disbelieving at first. How many times had she wanted out of the spy world? There seemed too many to really count.
“You may not believe it, but it is true. You eavesdropped at the door of the study one day as I was speaking to Jack about a mission. You first asked if you could go with me, but I knew your father would forget any truce between us if I allowed that. But that didn’t stop you. You got there before me; I have yet to figure out how, and intercepted the piece of intelligence before I could get to it.”
She laughed. That sounded like something she would do. It reminded her of Taipei, retrieving the device for Sloane, so that his SD-6 goons would stop trying to kill her.
“Yes, well, I did not find it funny at the time. When I returned, I was furious. We fought intensely. But in the end, you won out. You were to work freelance with me; under an alias, of course. Sydney Bristow for all intents and purposes was dead to the world. Your father was furious to begin with, but he eventually accepted your decision. He also threatened my life if anything were to happen to you. That threat caused me to resent you for a while, believe me.”
“But you said that we were…involved…for a year and a half. This all happened after the six months.” She knew he wouldn’t tell her all about it, but how could they be involved intimately if he resented her so much?
“Just because I resented you, doesn’t mean I didn’t want you.”
“Oh.” Of course that was it. She wasn’t really that naïve to think that they had loved each other.
“And by the way, you wanted me just as much. But that is all I will say on that topic.” He seemed especially closed off whenever the subject of their relationship came up. It was best to leave that door closed for just a while longer, since the fact that she didn’t remember so obviously bothered him.
“I know. The rest I have to remember; either on my own or with the doctor’s help.” She mocked him, using his same sarcastic tone.
They were both silent for a while. Sark was watching her behind a heavy-lidded gaze, hiding his eyes from her so that he could get his raging emotions under control. Sydney was silent, allowing all that had been said soak in. Suddenly, she was so tired again. All she wanted to do was escape into sleep, away from this crazy story that had apparently been her life for the past two years.
Sark saw that she had heard all that she could take for the time being. So he got up as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb her.
Just before he walked out the door, he turned around to speak to her. “Remember, we’re going to see the memory specialist tomorrow morning. You should get some rest.”
And with that, he left her alone for the rest of the night.
*****************
Jack Bristow woke up after having passed out again. At least this time he could move. He could smell the coppery scent of blood, and knew that he was badly hurt. However, he still couldn’t tell where.
He was crawling across the floor slowly. Inching his way, slowly, like a worm. It was funny. The larger than life, seemingly invincible man, brought so low he was crawling across the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
Finally he reached his cell phone.
Two missed calls. Two frantic voice messages.
First was Dixon. The second was Sark. Both of them were having problems.
Most likely my headstrong, stubborn daughter, he thought wryly. She does tend to cause problems.
It was then that he noticed the time and date on his cell phone. Three weeks had passed without him knowing about it.
What the hell was going on?
...okie dokie! PMs are going out!!
Thanks for being patient while I got my school work in order! I have successfully defended my thesis, which means all I have left this semester are a couple of ridiculously easy finals…and those aren’t for a couple of weeks! Then I graduate! Yikes :blink: Anyway, that means I have more time to write for fun! Yipee!!
Alas, there is no Sarkney hotness in this chapter…it’s a lot of back-story…to answer a few of your questions (i.e. Dixon/Jack/Sark and their collaboration). Some of the details of Sark’s prison release run parallel to the show…but with my own little twist…
Chapter 5.
Some Answers
The greatest Grace we can aspire to
Is the strength to see the wounded
Walk with the forgotten
And pull ourselves from the screaming blood of our losses
To fight on undaunted
All the more
Jewel
Sark was silent for a while, conflicting emotions written clearly on his face. She could tell that he wanted to talk to her, but he seemed afraid to do so. He got up from the couch and started to pace around the room. Sydney watched him curiously, wondering why he seemed so touchy about the subject.
She cleared her throat and spoke in what she hoped was a strong, calm tone, even though she was practically shaking inside at the mention of her father’s name. “Sark, how did you start working with my father? If ever was the time to tell the truth, now would be it. This is my father you are talking about.” He could see the pleading in her brown eyes. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. How could he deny her? He knew how much her father meant to her.
Sark narrowed his eyes. “Are you going to believe me? Because you didn’t seem inclined to believe anything I had to say about five minutes ago.”
Sydney sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know. But I would like to have the chance to hear what you have to say and then make up my mind.”
He sighed, inwardly. He knew that was the best he was going to get out of her. So he began to explain.
“The short story is that I knew of Sloane’s plan to abduct you the night you fought with Allison. I also knew that I could use that knowledge to my benefit. I told your father about his plan, and once your father had secured your safety after the fight, I gained a release from the CIA.” He stopped there, knowing that she would likely interrupt him before he got too far anyway. And he was right.
She practically cut him off as he was speaking. “How about the whole story. Just for fun.”
“Of course, Sydney. I knew you wouldn’t have it any other way. I just wanted to get the short story out there so that you didn’t riddle me with questions while I told the story.”
She snorted in annoyance, but wisely refrained from saying anything.
“I’ll take that as a sign to continue with my story.” His tone of voice and the look on his face were almost challenging her to say something contradictory.
She just arched her eyebrow at him, meaning to say, of course, you idiot.
So Sark began the story…
**********
Sark was feeling slightly trapped in his CIA cell. It definitely had not been on his list of places he wanted to visit. But somehow, he ended up in CIA custody. He was seriously pissed off. Why the hell had Irina told them where he would be. That was the only way they could have found out in time to intercept him. Damn that woman. It was her fault he was stuck in here.
His mind was already starting to formulate a plan, however. He had some information that, in the right hands, could secure his release. He just hoped that whoever it was that they sent to interrogate him would be willing to make a deal.
Jack Bristow walked into the room, his famous poker face in place. This is good, thought Sark. He is exactly the person I should tell this to. That is, if he doesn’t kill me first. Sark knew that Jack Bristow was one dangerous man, CIA agent or not. Plus, a freshly tortured-by-Sloane Jack would be feeling especially ruthless.
“Mr. Sark. I just want you to know that it will be my distinct pleasure to be torturing you.” Jack’s voice was cold, unflinching. Sark knew this wasn’t an act. Jack Bristow was one hard man.
“Ah. The elder Agent Bristow. Why am I not surprised?” Sark knew that he was risking his life, using sarcasm on Jack, but if he got Bristow riled up, he was more likely to make a rash decision, and possibly make a deal for the information that Sark was privy to.
“I’ll only ask you once. Where is Irina Derevko? Where is Arvin Sloane?”
“You get straight to the point, I see. Well, you will get no information from me.” Come on Jack. You know you want to get angry. Just a little bit of emotion, then I’ll go in for the kill.
“We’ll see about that. I may be CIA, but believe me Sark; I know how to inflict pain.”
“You know, interrogating me really isn’t what you should be doing right now. Might I suggest you call your daughter to see how she is doing?” Let’s see what you think of that, Jack Bristow. I know how much you are willing to do to protect her.
“What does Sydney have to do with this?” Jack’s voice didn’t falter, but his tone changed ever so slightly. If Sark hadn’t been listening for it, he might not have heard. Ahh. There we go, Jack. Your desire to protect your daughter surfaces. That’s my ticket out of here.
“That’s all you will get out of me for the time being. However, if I were to be made more comfortable or even released…” Take the bait, Jack. Take the bait.
“If you think we are going to release you, you are sadly mistaken. However you will tell me what that comment about my daughter was supposed to mean.” Jack was good, very good. His poker face would have won him many games, if he actually had a life outside of work.
“Let’s just say, I really wouldn’t leave her alone any time tonight.” Which she no doubt is, since that idiot of an Agent, Michael Vaughn left her alone to come back for debriefing.
“And why is that?” There was a little more visible tension in Jack’s voice. No doubt due to the vast scenarios regarding Sydney’s welfare that was sure to be flashing in his mind.
“No more until I have an agreement to get out of here. You see, you need me to save her life.” There’s part of the bomb. There is a possibility she might die. You know you want to hear the rest now. You might not show it anywhere else, but I can see the fear in your eyes.
Jack was fuming on the inside. He had about enough of the cocky bastard’s attitude. But if he was telling the truth his daughter was in danger. That was enough to give Jack a scare.
“Tell me what you know. I can’t save Sydney if I don’t know anything.” And don’t you dare f*** around with me. The rest of the sentence was left unspoken, but the implication was fully clear.
“Get me out of here, and I’ll tell you.” That was Sark’s one ticket out of CIA custody. He wondered if that was why Irina had told him about Sloane’s plan, then subsequently had him arrested in Switzerland.
“I can’t just go to the director and get a pardon for you. But if you help me save Sydney’s life, I will be in your debt. If what you say turns out to be true, I will pay my debt by getting you out of here.”
*****************************
“…so I told your father about Sloane’s plan to abduct you. When your father got to your apartment, you were passed out after the fight with Allison. He reached you before Sloane did.” Sark was feeling slightly apprehensive after telling her the story.
“And clearly he paid his debt by getting you out of CIA custody, since you are standing in front of me today, claiming that we were together during the past two years.” She knew she was stating the obvious, but she was still trying to wrap her mind around what Sark had told her so far.
“Yes. First, he made sure you were safe. Then he waited around your apartment to watch for Sloane or his goons. He wanted to make sure I was telling the truth. When he was satisfied, he came up with a plan to get me out of custody, repaying his debt. Your father is quite clever. He has many people who owe him favors. He simply had one of them kidnap a CIA operative and make a trade: me for the agent.”
“Well that answers one of my questions. But why were you calling my father just now?” Clearly it seemed that the two were still in contact with one another. Maybe they were working together somehow? That seemed unlikely, but then again, this whole situation was not like anything that she could have imagined.
Sark sighed. “It is rather complicated. And you not having your memory of the past two years may make it hard to believe.”
“Humor me. I’m sure there is a short version you can tell in about two seconds.” She was getting more and more impatient, wanting to know the answers as soon as possible.
He laughed. Of course she would want the over-simplification. Life certainly was easier for her that way. “Your father is working deep cover for the CIA with Sloane. I am working freelance on the side, with you. Dixon is in the loop about Jack and you, but not me.”
“Okay. There is no way that you are going to get away with the short story on that one. Dixon knows?”
“Dixon knows that Jack is under deep cover, clearly.” He smirked at her, for perhaps the first time during the whole telling of the story. He couldn’t help it, her question had clearly been rhetorical.
“Sark, don’t be an ass. You know what I meant.” The look in her eyes made Sark want to laugh, but he kept the chuckle inside of him. Sydney certainly didn’t want to hear him laughing at her right now.
“Oh yes. Dixon knew you were alive. He also knew that you were doing freelance work for Jack. He was aware that you were also with me. I don’t know how, but Jack convinced him that I was an asset.
“Why wouldn’t Dixon give me any help when I came back with no memory, then?” That was just another part of the story that didn’t make any sense. But that seemed to be the norm today. Nothing about today made any sense to Sydney.
“I’m afraid only Dixon can answer that. But that will have to wait.” Sark really didn’t know the answer to that question. He had his own speculation, but nothing concrete. He didn’t want to worry Sydney unnecessarily.
“You’re right. I have one more question. What is going on with Sloane?” This was the part that troubled her the most. Knowing Sloane, and his Rambaldi obsession…and her link to the whole thing, she really wanted to know what he had been planning to use her for.
“For your own safety I’m afraid I can’t tell you that right now, Sydney. It is best if you remember it first.” Sark knew that she wouldn’t like the answer, but that was how it was going to have to be. It had been too painful for her the first time around, and he didn’t want to be the catalyst for that pain this time.
“What if I don’t get my memory back?” She asked softly, for the first time showing him her fear of remaining in the dark forever.
“We’ll figure that out if that happens. I am confident that you will find some answers tomorrow.”
Sydney was silent for a while. She knew that he was right. She knew that some things were too important to just tell her. Some things she had to know for herself. There was still one more thing on her mind, but she wasn’t sure if she could handle the answer she would receive on top of all of the new developments.
She really wanted to know what Sark had meant about them f***ing. She wanted to know if he was telling the truth. But she was almost afraid of the truth. Because if they were, and he was telling the truth about her two years, then she hadn’t been brainwashed at all; she had willingly slept with Sark.
She shivered; half with desire and half with fear.
He saw her shiver and wondered what she was thinking.
Sydney knew that he saw her shiver. However, after learning of Sark and her father’s alliance, albeit a shaky alliance, she was left feeling slightly vulnerable. She wasn’t ready yet to hear the full truth. So she left the room without saying anything. Some people might call it running away, but she knew that she couldn’t handle the truth just yet. She walked into her bedroom, and was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. She fell into bed, and was asleep in no time at all.
A little while after Sydney left the room, Sark realized that the house was completely quiet. He decided to go check on Sydney, and see how she was taking the news. He knocked on the door, but she didn’t answer. He opened it up slowly; making sure the safehouse had not been compromised.
As he slowly walked into the room, he saw her sleeping peacefully on the bed. He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, unable to resist the pull of her magnetism. His desire for her was so strong. If he hadn’t been so good at what he did, he would have cracked so many times playing the cold-hearted assassin who didn’t give a s***.
But he did give a s***. As he sat there, staring at her sleeping form, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold her forever. He lightly traced a hand over the features of her face. He brushed her hair away from her eyes, he traced her high cheekbones, his fingers slid across her lips; lips that had kissed his many times both with gentleness and with fiery passion.
This was getting too dangerous for him. He was grower harder by the minute. It had been too long since he had been inside of her, felt her body cradling him. He took his hand away from her face and got up to leave. As he did this, he heard her sigh heavily in her sleep. It was almost as if she was missing the touch of his hand.
As he was standing up, he felt her hand grab his wrist.
“Sark” she mumbled, half sleeping, “what are you doing in my room?”
He sighed and sat back down onto the edge of the bed. “Sometimes, Sydney, you ask too many questions. Are you really prepared for the answer?”
“No. But I still need to know.”
“How contradictory, which is so typical of you, by the way.” They both laughed softly, know that there was some truth to that statement.
She stopped laughing, and spoke in a very serious tone. “I had a dream a couple of nights ago. And again just now. A dream about a hotel room. A balcony. A bed. A man. One who called me love. One who made my skin tingle the way your touch seems to. But In both dreams I never saw his face. Even though he f***ed me with such passion, made love to me so sweetly. It wasn’t just a dream. It was like a memory.”
His heart nearly skipped a beat. He had called her love many times when they were together. Never while working, only in the privacy of the bedroom. Could this mean that she has a chance of recovering her memory? He hoped this was so. With this new development, he was more comfortable telling her part of their story, but not all of it. Some she would have to figure out on her own.
“I’ll tell you how we started working together. The rest will have to wait until you have your memory back.”
“Fine.” She had figured that was what he was going to say, so she didn’t fight it.
And so he began, yet again…
******************
When Jack found Sydney in her apartment, just a few moments before Sloane’s goons got there, she was unconscious; beaten, bruised, bloodied, and hanging on to life by a thin thread. He knew that any hospital around would not be safe. He took her to one of his private safehouses and called in a favor that a doctor owed him.
When he was satisfied that Sydney was going to live, and was able to travel, Jack took her to a very special hideaway. It was one that nobody knew about. He had bought the house on the Costa Rican beach specifically in case he needed to hide Sydney, or even himself away, for any reason.
When he was certain that she was safe and recuperating, Jack went back to LA to fulfill his promise to Sark. Jack took his debts seriously. For whatever reason, Sark had saved Sydney’s life. No doubt because he knew that was the one bargaining tool he could have used.
When the prisoner exchange took place, Jack had been unaware of the CIA’s plan B. Plan B was to shoot Sark, killing him, after the CIA agent had been released. Unfortunately for the CIA, but fortunately for Sark, the sniper they used was fairly incompetent. Sark was shot, in the neck-not the heart like planned, and was not killed. He was wounded quite severely, however, and was in need of a quiet place to heal.
So Jack brought him to the only place where Sark could not be traced back to him; the safehouse in Costa Rica. There Sark and Sydney were forced to live in the same house, both healing from severe physical and emotional trauma: Sydney with the death of Francie, though belated news really, and with the severe injuries of Will, and Sark with the death of Allison, whom while he may not have loved, had respected and admired, having known her most of their lives.
Six months later, when they were both back to full strength, Jack came to see Sark with a proposal. Jack was to be sent undercover with Sloane yet again. He knew that Sark was a valuable asset in the world of organized crime, and especially the world of Rambaldi, which Sloane was clearly obsessed with. He also knew that Sark worked in his own way, with methods that the CIA would never approve of directly. So they formed a sort of freelance partnership. Jack was undermining Sloane from the inside, which given their history was a bit difficult. So Sark came into the picture, undermining Sloane from the outside.
And so the uneasy partnership began…
**********************
“So where do I come into the picture?” She was curious. She didn’t think that her father would have liked for her to be involved in that business, after all Sloane had planned on taking her captive and using her for some devious purpose.
“You weren’t supposed to be a part of everything. Jack still wasn’t sure what Sloane had planned for you. It was dangerous. But you being you, well, you got bored with a life outside of the game. You realized that no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you got a rush out of missions. The thrill of adrenaline was missing in your life.”
Sydney snorted, disbelieving at first. How many times had she wanted out of the spy world? There seemed too many to really count.
“You may not believe it, but it is true. You eavesdropped at the door of the study one day as I was speaking to Jack about a mission. You first asked if you could go with me, but I knew your father would forget any truce between us if I allowed that. But that didn’t stop you. You got there before me; I have yet to figure out how, and intercepted the piece of intelligence before I could get to it.”
She laughed. That sounded like something she would do. It reminded her of Taipei, retrieving the device for Sloane, so that his SD-6 goons would stop trying to kill her.
“Yes, well, I did not find it funny at the time. When I returned, I was furious. We fought intensely. But in the end, you won out. You were to work freelance with me; under an alias, of course. Sydney Bristow for all intents and purposes was dead to the world. Your father was furious to begin with, but he eventually accepted your decision. He also threatened my life if anything were to happen to you. That threat caused me to resent you for a while, believe me.”
“But you said that we were…involved…for a year and a half. This all happened after the six months.” She knew he wouldn’t tell her all about it, but how could they be involved intimately if he resented her so much?
“Just because I resented you, doesn’t mean I didn’t want you.”
“Oh.” Of course that was it. She wasn’t really that naïve to think that they had loved each other.
“And by the way, you wanted me just as much. But that is all I will say on that topic.” He seemed especially closed off whenever the subject of their relationship came up. It was best to leave that door closed for just a while longer, since the fact that she didn’t remember so obviously bothered him.
“I know. The rest I have to remember; either on my own or with the doctor’s help.” She mocked him, using his same sarcastic tone.
They were both silent for a while. Sark was watching her behind a heavy-lidded gaze, hiding his eyes from her so that he could get his raging emotions under control. Sydney was silent, allowing all that had been said soak in. Suddenly, she was so tired again. All she wanted to do was escape into sleep, away from this crazy story that had apparently been her life for the past two years.
Sark saw that she had heard all that she could take for the time being. So he got up as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb her.
Just before he walked out the door, he turned around to speak to her. “Remember, we’re going to see the memory specialist tomorrow morning. You should get some rest.”
And with that, he left her alone for the rest of the night.
*****************
Jack Bristow woke up after having passed out again. At least this time he could move. He could smell the coppery scent of blood, and knew that he was badly hurt. However, he still couldn’t tell where.
He was crawling across the floor slowly. Inching his way, slowly, like a worm. It was funny. The larger than life, seemingly invincible man, brought so low he was crawling across the floor, leaving a trail of blood behind him.
Finally he reached his cell phone.
Two missed calls. Two frantic voice messages.
First was Dixon. The second was Sark. Both of them were having problems.
Most likely my headstrong, stubborn daughter, he thought wryly. She does tend to cause problems.
It was then that he noticed the time and date on his cell phone. Three weeks had passed without him knowing about it.
What the hell was going on?
...okie dokie! PMs are going out!!
sydney-n-vaughn
Cadet
Great backstory!!! I like the idea of the two of them convalescing in the same house! Very original!!
Ok -- Jack's been missing for 3 weeks??? That can't be right!! No one else tried to call him in all that time? And his cell battery didn't die? Must be someone playing a trick on him, right???
Wow -- Ok -- i am truly obsessed now -- i need to know what comes next!!
Oh -- btw -- congrats on finishing your thesis - and good luck on your finals!!
J
Ok -- Jack's been missing for 3 weeks??? That can't be right!! No one else tried to call him in all that time? And his cell battery didn't die? Must be someone playing a trick on him, right???
Wow -- Ok -- i am truly obsessed now -- i need to know what comes next!!
Oh -- btw -- congrats on finishing your thesis - and good luck on your finals!!
J
Galicdreamer
These Words, From My Heart...
That is a fabulous line...I love it. Awesome chapter, can't wait for more!!
Quiet Disaster
I heart Chris Carrabba
LOL. :sideroll:
Of course, who could resist!! :lol:
You wrote the scene between Jack and Sark perfectly... I can just imagine Sark with that cocky attitude, baiting Jack and Jack's resilient face. And then his anger slowly giving in to the fear of losing Sydney...
Shot in the neck?! Poor Sarkie...
I bet he wasn't expecting that... :lol: But hey, he did get to recuperate with Sydney so I guess it was worth it!!! This is me at the end of your story...
WHAT?! Three weeks?! Holy manicotti!!!! :thud:Great job, Amy. You know I looooove this fic!!
Thanks for the PM, gutter girl!
RavenClaw_dj
Cadet
Wow! I am really enjoying this story! Could I get a PM when you update?
acting_chica
Cadet
i love it i love it i love it! i do miss the sarkney action though...you just write everything so well! keep 'em coming
Fizzy Lizzy
Cadet
PM me too!!!
