Lost and Found

I've become a horrible horrible updater...I fully admit it. :lol:

I kinda lost my motivation for this story. But It's coming back slowly. I have the epilogue written...but of course I still have some things to do before I get there. Plus I started a new job, working 40 hours a week and sitting in an hour's worth of traffic driving to and from...plus I stare at a computer screen all day. Doesn't lead to a condusive atmosphere for writing later on.

Oh yes, and I've been bombarded with ideas for new stories. I need to just not write any more WIPs...since I'm so bad at updating...
 
So sorry again, I’m trying to finish this up so you aren’t kept waiting that long. I feel horrible doing that to you all, just know that it was due to the real world and writers block. Thanks for the reviews and support. One chapter plus an epilogue is all that is left. And the rough drafts of them are almost done. You have all been so wonderful…and now, without further ado, here’s the next chapter…

Re-cap: Sydney has agreed to activate Il Dire, while Jack, Weiss, and Vaughn are flying in an attempt to stop her from doing so, as they have found the trigger - unaware that her memories are already returning...

Chapter 12
Desperation


Desperation
The honest recognition
Of a false truth
-Jewel


Il Dire was smaller than she expected. Though, if she had been thinking clearly, she would have realized how it was assembled. It was through all of the artifacts she had collected over the years that the machine came to life.

If only she had destroyed them when she had the chance, f*** the CIA, f*** the Alliance, and f*** Irina Derevko, she thought bitterly. All of those artifacts, passing through her hands, and she could have prevented this by simply smashing every piece to smithereens.

It was housed in a deceptively beautiful room – not the dark, sinister basement she had expected. It was in a small cabin, across the rows of grapes from the big house. The décor was light and airy – pale yellows, blues, and splashes of pure white.

The irony of it was about as cliché as a dark, dirty basement.

---

Four hours ago…in the library

“Sydney, dear, I want you to know that I –“

“You what, Sloane, never wanted to hurt me? You never wanted to take two years worth of memories from my life? You never wanted to torture my father? You never wanted to be obsessed with Rambaldi?”

Sark put a hand on her shoulder, stopping the flow of words he could tell would keep coming. “I think what Sydney means is that we should cut all forms of pretense. It is fairly simple, Arvin. Sydney has agreed to your deal. She will activate Il Dire in exchange for her memories.”

“Well what I was going to say is that I appreciate the sacrifice you are going to make for me. And you will not go unrewarded.”

“I don’t want anything from you except my memories.”

Sark shook his head, thinking; you’re giving him too much, Sydney. He can’t know how much this means to you. But there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to stop her.

Sydney knew he did not understand her strategy. He did not know what she knew, however. He did not know that she was recovering her memories. During the time that this was going on, she had gone through two other flashes.

One of her father, she could feel him carrying her limp and aching body, before she passed out. The other was of Sark, the ocean, and a fire that could not be put out – a fire that she was starting to understand.

Sydney gave Sark a warning glace, reading his mind. He wanted to smile, but he was also getting angrier with her every second. She seemed to be giving in to Sloane’s every demand.

“I fully expect that you will restore my memories before I do what I am supposed to do.”

Sloane nodded, responding in a patronizing tone, “I understand your hesitance, however I am not unfamiliar to deception – especially from you. I will not agree.”

“Then I’m afraid there is nothing we can do,” Sark started to say, with a hard, uncompromising tone.

But Sydney stepped in again. “I suppose I could negotiate.”

Sloane’s eyes widened in pleasure, Sark’s in shock.

They made plans for the next day.

It wasn’t until later, as Sark was pacing the room angrily, that Sydney filled Sark in about her memories returning already. He brushed aside his brief spurt of joy and shelved that for the time being.

“Then what are we going to do?”

“We have to figure that out. Right now.”

They remained there – Sark standing, Sydney sitting. The room was eerily quiet. For the past week it had been a whirlwind of planning and executing plans.

Sydney was tired, completely exhausted, willing her body to hold for just a little longer.

Sark was weary, mentally weary of trying to outwit Sloane, trying to deal with Sydney’s memory loss when it was all so fresh in his mind.

One weight was lifted; the other was pressing them down more heavily than ever. It was enough to make a weaker man run away.

He wasn’t a weak man, but he was a logical one. Their options were limited, and both knew it. The exchange of words was limited and resigned; filled with gaps of silence – but loud with thoughts.

“We can’t destroy it.”

“I know.”

“We can’t take Sloane into custody; not with his army of guards breathing down our necks.”

“This is true.”

“I can’t contact Jack.”

“What?”

“I tried, but he is not responding.”

“What do you think is going on? You don’t think that – “

“No, Sloane has nothing to do with it. It’s possible that they came up with something and are on their way, but we have to assume they’re not. We have to plan on counting only on each other.”

She was quiet.

“We’ll activate it. Then Sloane becomes disposable.”

“The CIA?”

“They want to know what it says as well. Of course, destroying it would be so much more satisfying for me.”

“I know it would. But it’s not an option.”

“I think we’ve established that already,” the frustration rising in her voice.

Sark was just as annoyed in his response. The words did not matter, only the tone of his voice. Their exhaustion was too much for a simple conversation, let alone one that could determine their fates, the rest of their lives.

For the second time that evening, Sydney got up and walked out of the room, leaving Sark angry and confused.

---

In French airspace, on a CIA issue private jet

Weiss slept, Vaughn read, and Jack cleaned his gun.

He had read Sark’s urgent message about Sydney and Il Dire. His first instinct was to call and yell. That was a gut reaction of being a father, he supposed, even though it was not his usual reaction. After sitting and stewing over it for a while, however, Jack decided it was best to wait and contact when they landed.

There was nothing that could be done yet. Besides which, the CIA was breathing down his neck, determined to know more about Rambaldi. It was absolutely ridiculous, he decided, to be so focused on the works of one man.

Jack Bristow had never believed in Rambaldi, never followed his work and took his sayings as gospel truth. He was pragmatic, he was intelligent, and he was not going to believe some claims about prophecies and visions of the future.

But he was going to worry about what people would do to his daughter in order to get to them.

---

4 hours later – facing Il Dire

Sydney faced the relatively small machine. As she did so, she wondered briefly how something like this could kill her.

Sark was standing next to her, not in awe, he was stoic as he prepared for the risky move they were about to make.

Sydney came rushing into his room ten minutes after stalking out of it. She was breathless as she spit out her idea. “We will activate it tonight, and see what there is to see. Then tomorrow we will rig the device, and relay our own message to Sloane.”

He had wanted to disagree at first, but the thought of pulling one over on Sloane like that had been too intriguing to completely dismiss.

“We could actually pull that off with the right amount of ingenuity.”

“Yes, we could. My father could help us.”

“We don’t have your father.”

“Not yet, but he’s coming, I know he is. There is no other reason he would not be responding.”

Her argument was logical, and they were soon seeped in plans and preparation.


Sark could see her hands trembling as she touched the machine softly, as if it would crumble under her fingers. He looked out the window where he knew Jack, Weiss, and Vaughn were hiding – among the shadows, prepared for any unwanted visitors besides him and Sydney.

Both Sydney and Sark stopped talking abruptly as they heard a loud beeping sound.

It was Sark’s blackberry. There was a message from Jack, telling them to meet him and the other agents a mile outside of Sloane’s property.

Disengaging the security system was easy. A midnight walk between lovers was a good enough cover for 2 am.

There they told Jack of their plan, got the approval and the counter measures as prepared as possible. All they had to do was remain undetected.


There was a sensor where Sydney was to place her hands, on the front of the machine. Supposedly, it would activate on touch – her touch alone.

They were both skeptical, but yet believed on a certain level. So they went into this with caution. But there was nothing else to be done. Sloane had to be stopped. Or his insanity would kill them all after she got the message for him anyway. That much had been clear to all five of them.

Her comm’s crackled with Weiss’s voice making a small joke. She could hear Vaughn’s uneasy chuckle in the background.

Steady hands, they all kept telling her silently, with steady hands you must approach this, and remember - you are not alone.

She placed her hands on the sensor, and a jolt of heat swept through her body, as she was taken on a fantastical ride, one that she could never have imagined.

When she returned, she believed. She did not accept, but she believed. Nobody who had experienced and seen what she had would be able to do otherwise.

Sark was by her side as she slumped away from the machine. He caught her before she could hit the ground. It was a simple move, but to her, it spoke volumes.

“I love you,” she said softly.

“I love you too,” he replied.

Then her whole world went blank.

Sark had no idea what to do. He was holding her cold body, for she was shivering from the loss of the heat Il Dire had provided.

There was one loose paper lying on the ground. Sark picked it up and read the single question.

Hope or Despair?

He shivered as he rolled up the page and placed it in his jacket. His next move was to carry Sydney out of the building to the loved ones waiting.

The whole process had taken less than twenty minutes, but it had felt like a lifetime.

Jack saw the message and shook his head grimly. There was more that needed to be said, but there was only one person who could say it. They had to wait for Sydney to wake up.

---

Sloane watched the scene from his room, where all of the security monitors were located. He cursed and railed, but let it happen. There was nothing he could have done. The guards would have gone down there guns blazing, but that was too risky.

So he watched himself get played. When it was all over he saw Sark pick up the message. He knocked the glass of wine off his desk. The red color stained his carpet, but he was beyond caring.

Now that it was all done, he still needed Sydney alive. The thought of her second betrayal clawed at his gut; making its way directly to his heart.

He saw red. Red was everywhere: anger, death, revenge.

Sloane picked up his gun and made his way down the hallway, calling for Lauren to come with him. It was two against five, but Sloane had lost all reason and logic and Lauren was too thrilled to be a part of the action to see his desperation.

When they reached the agents, Sydney was awake, but clearly shaken. The men in her life surrounded her – protecting her from the anger they saw clearly.

Lauren stopped, prepared to fight them, but Sloane kept walking. When she went to follow, he waved his hand as if to tell her to remain where she was. He walked into the cabin and took one final look at his beloved machine. Then he systematically destroyed it – for it no longer held any value.

Meanwhile Lauren stood with her gun trained upon Vaughn – seeing him as the easiest target. But she knew that if they wanted to escape, they could easily overpower her. It was all about Sloane, they needed to finish things with Sloane.

He came out of the cabin, slightly calmer, his features holding none of the anger – but more deviousness. Sloane was already plotting his next kidnapping of Sydney.

But he got nowhere.

Everything happened so quickly. Jack threw out an arm and surprised Lauren into dropping her gun; firing as she did so. It hit Vaughn in the knee – nothing fatal, but it was painful and bloody.

Sark pulled his gun and shot Sloane in the arm – purposely missing his heart by inches.

Weiss covered Sydney’s still weak body, and shielded her from any stray bullets that might have come her way.

Two minutes later, Lauren was dead – a victim from Sloane’s stray bullet, Sloane was in custody – arms tied behind his back with rope. Jack was patching up Vaughn’s knee as best as possible – but it was most likely shattered.

Sark and Weiss were watching Sydney, making sure she was not too upset.

An hour later, as they were flying to Los Angeles, Sark finally was able to speak to Sydney alone. Nobody had questioned her about what she had seen yet, but that was to come soon. But before they got answers about Rambaldi, he needed answers about something more personal.

She was sitting, reading Dante quietly, going over the passage again and again, and remembering everything.

He kneeled in front of her, as she sat on the leather seat. “Did you mean what you said?”

She knew exactly what he was referring to. “I did. I fell in love with you before I even remembered. The moment you touched me, my body recognized you. My brain just had to catch up.”

He smiled and said softly, “I meant it too.”

It was a simple exchange of words, no flowers and romance, but dirt and blood. The moment was over quickly as Sark stood and helped her up. They walked to the room where the others were gathered.

Sydney straightened her back as she prepared to tell them all what she had seen.
 
:hi: Hi! Could I possiblybe added to your PM list? I think your fic is great and I cant wait to see what Syd has to say to Sark about the Il Dire! :love: Update soon plz! :smiley:
 
Great update.I'm glad they told eachother that they love eachother.I can't wait for Syd to explain what she saw.
Thanks for the PM.

~Rach~
 
I can't believe that it's almost over. Damn....Damn....Damn.....that's awfull!! Damn!!

It was housed in a deceptively beautiful room – not the dark, sinister basement she had expected. It was in a small cabin, across the rows of grapes from the big house. The décor was light and airy – pale yellows, blues, and splashes of pure white.

The irony of it was about as cliché as a dark, dirty basement.

I love the contrast..how you make the place that appears so warm and lovely on the outside be really cold and heartless on the inside...JUST like Sloane...oooh very good!!!

Jack Bristow had never believed in Rambaldi, never followed his work and took his sayings as gospel truth. He was pragmatic, he was intelligent, and he was not going to believe some claims about prophecies and visions of the future.

But he was going to worry about what people would do to his daughter in order to get to them.

Jack..always the sensible man...pain in the ass too!! :lol:

Sark was by her side as she slumped away from the machine. He caught her before she could hit the ground. It was a simple move, but to her, it spoke volumes.

“I love you,” she said softly.

“I love you too,” he replied.

Then her whole world went blank.

Isn't that how it always works...you tell someone youlove and then poof...they pass out on you.!

Two minutes later, Lauren was dead – a victim from Sloane’s stray bullet, Sloane was in custody – arms tied behind his back with rope. Jack was patching up Vaughn’s knee as best as possible – but it was most likely shattered.

Can I just say, I am so happy that you killed off Lauren quickly....I hate her sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
much!! :angry:

She was sitting, reading Dante quietly, going over the passage again and again, and remembering everything.

He kneeled in front of her, as she sat on the leather seat. “Did you mean what you said?”

She knew exactly what he was referring to. “I did. I fell in love with you before I even remembered. The moment you touched me, my body recognized you. My brain just had to catch up.”

He smiled and said softly, “I meant it too.”

It was a simple exchange of words, no flowers and romance, but dirt and blood. The moment was over quickly as Sark stood and helped her up. They walked to the room where the others were gathered.

Okay first off...Dante is my favorite author and I have several copies of his work that I read all the time. So I have to say..this really gives a girl hope.........Excuse the water, I just finished swimming in the River Denile!! :lol:

Second..I love the fact that no flowers..no romance was needed. Just simple and to the point...very clean...very Sark!

Another amazing job Aims...your talent never fails to blow me away. I love reading everything you write. I am really sad that this fic is ending but I am also sort of happy because I know your going to have another amazing fic soon!!
 
Ohhh... Lost and Found goodness!! I can't believe it's almost over, though. :depressed: Now what will I obsess over? I'll have to turn all my attention to 'Red'. :Ph34r:

Now, some reviewage. Hopefully this will make sense; I'll try not to ramble, but really, who are we kidding? Can't. Help. Self. :o_O:

“Sydney, dear, I want you to know that I –“

“You what, Sloane, never wanted to hurt me? You never wanted to take two years worth of memories from my life? You never wanted to torture my father? You never wanted to be obsessed with Rambaldi?”

This really got to me. The fact that he has the nerve to call Sydney 'dear' after everything he's done to her... It kinda makes me wish Syd 'n Sark would just go kung-fu on his ancient a**. But I like the stream of conscious questions she asks Sloane. It's very much Syd--highly emotional and not always practical.

Sark was weary, mentally weary of trying to outwit Sloane, trying to deal with Sydney’s memory loss when it was all so fresh in his mind.

He must adore her to stay and deal with all of this. Because he could just walk away at any time. I feel bad for him here--this part is where I get a big sense of emotional strain on Sark's part. It's gotta be hard...

Weiss slept, Vaughn read, and Jack cleaned his gun.

:lol: How very true to their characters. Hee, hee... Still giggling over this one. ;)

It was absolutely ridiculous, he decided, to be so focused on the works of one man.

:cheers: Here, effin', here. Really, why is every spy in the world after this Rambaldi nonsense?????

Sark was by her side as she slumped away from the machine. He caught her before she could hit the ground. It was a simple move, but to her, it spoke volumes.

“I love you,” she said softly.

“I love you too,” he replied.

Let's hear an 'awwwww' from all assembled, shall we? :blush: It's too bad she couldn't stay awake a bit longer to expound on that declaration, though... ;)

Hope or Despair?

Interesting message. Kind of creepy and ominous, though, I can see why he went all shiver-y.

Now that it was all done, he still needed Sydney alive. The thought of her second betrayal clawed at his gut; making its way directly to his heart.

He's such a smug, evil bastard. The fact he feels pissed that she betrayed him... What about all the times he's betrayed her? Danny, anyone? SD-6, anyone? :::shakes head in disbelief::: I'm beginning to think he honestly doesn't realize all the anguish he's caused Sydney. Either that, or he thinks he's done it for her own good and she has "obligations" to him. Bastard. <_<

It hit Vaughn in the knee – nothing fatal, but it was painful and bloody.

Damn it, Lauren! Incompetant to the very last! Just a few inches up, perhaps... :P

Two minutes later, Lauren was dead – a victim from Sloane’s stray bullet

Thank you, Amy. :smiley: Now, I can get a good night's sleep tonight. Dead Lauren... Another :smiley:

She knew exactly what he was referring to. “I did. I fell in love with you before I even remembered. The moment you touched me, my body recognized you. My brain just had to catch up.”

He smiled and said softly, “I meant it too.”

It was a simple exchange of words, no flowers and romance, but dirt and blood. The moment was over quickly as Sark stood and helped her up. They walked to the room where the others were gathered.

Sydney straightened her back as she prepared to tell them all what she had seen.

I like the no romance part. Because, seriously, the essential nature of Sarkney love isn't fluffy happiness: it's simple and direct and often hard-won. I think this paragraph captured that perfectly.

And, oh, she's gonna reveal to all. Really can't wait to hear it. EEEE! Only a chapter and an epilogue left.

During reading this, I was listening to "Let Go" by Frou Frou... And I think it really captures 'Lost and Found', perfectly. I highly recommend checking it out... Or I could just have way too much free time tonight at work (is this a store or my own personal computer lab?)...

Anyway, fab chapter. Really. I love this story!

Thanks for the PM. :flowers:
 
Ooo way to kill Lauren off - no good death for her instead she gets one on accident. Sloppy death for a sloppy character. I love the interaction between Syd and Sark - it feels so ... real. Just as it should be. :smiley:

I can't wait to see how this ends even if it means it's over. :(
 
ah! what did she see?! this is awesome ames, truly.
sry for the late update, i've been busy.

Weiss slept, Vaughn read, and Jack cleaned his gun.

hehe, even with all the rest of it, that's my favorite line. i love it.

“I love you,” she said softly.

“I love you too,” he replied.

awwww...i love it. sarkney love.


He kneeled in front of her, as she sat on the leather seat. “Did you mean what you said?”

She knew exactly what he was referring to. “I did. I fell in love with you before I even remembered. The moment you touched me, my body recognized you. My brain just had to catch up.”

He smiled and said softly, “I meant it too.”

It was a simple exchange of words, no flowers and romance, but dirt and blood.

i don't care what you say, it's still romance to me! :smiley:

amy you are great. you write sarkney better than anyone else i have read! i love it.

m-c...thanks for the pm
 
Individual thanks to come later...

Author’s Note: So, I meant to get the out sooner, but I’ve been super sick the past week and have not been able to do anything. It was really bad. The good news – I’m much better now. I can actually look at a computer screen without my head screaming at me…

Okay – here it is, chapter 13 and the epilogue. I hope that you all enjoy the ending to this story. It gets a little fantastical, due to the Rambaldi aspect of the story. But not too bad – no green goo that somehow tells people the location of a long lost sister after being smashed onto the ground…or a machine with robot arms, or anything else like that… :lol:

Oh yes, and I apologize for two things: 1- the lack of smut, it just didn’t fit in anywhere and 2- any typos/errors that I missed. I’m still a bit loopy on my medication…I’m sure I’ll catch them and fix them later – and feel free to PM me if you see anything majorly wrong :smiley:

Chapter 13
Hope


Hope
Seeing who you really are
At your highest
Is who you will become
-Jewel


Sydney picked up the paper that had come from Il Dire. Hope or Despair? She knew that they could not understand the magnitude of that simple question.

Basically, the weight of the world was piled on her shoulders – she was the chosen one. She did not want to be, but she was.

They were all sitting there, waiting for somebody to start talking. But none of the men knew how to ask the question that needed to be asked. So they sat, on edge, until Sydney would start talking on her own.

“I saw images of the past, the present, and the future,” Sydney began before anybody could even ask the question. “And I took two different paths in the future. In one path, I chose evil and caused destruction. In the other, I chose good and essentially saved the world.”

The four men were silent, as they waited to hear the rest of what she had to say. This was one thing that they could not rush, and they all knew it.

“So basically, the time will come that I have to make a choice, and the most frightening part about it is that I must make the decision by myself. There is nobody that can help me, dissuade me, or stop me if I choose the path of destruction.”

Jack, having the steadiest voice, asked calmly, “What happens when you choose this path?”

Sydney shuddered for a moment with the memory of the images forced upon her. Then she spoke, just as calmly as her father, “Well in both cases I search for something. But the search does not take long, because I know exactly where it is.”

She paused, feeling the now familiar sense of unnatural knowledge coursing through her body.

When she started again her voice was still steady. “I’m filled with knowledge and images of things I should know nothing about. I never believed in Rambaldi before now. But I have no choice anymore. I don’t like it, but it is what it is.”

At this, the four practical men nodded, hearing the element of truth and annoyance in her voice.

She continued, “I just wanted to get that clear. Now, back to this object that I find: it is, well, it is a vial filled with a serum that leads to immortality.”

Sydney paused as she saw the unbelieving looks from her companions. She shook her head and continued, “I know it sounds unbelievable, but it is true. Do you remember the flower in Pakistan – that was uncovered using the cores of the nukes?”

They all nodded, the disbelief slowly draining from their faces as they noted her determination to make them believe – as she now did.

“That was preserved using a variation of this serum. I saw in the Telling a vision of the past – of Rambaldi – as he was concocting this human variation. And another thing; Rambaldi very closely resembled Sloane. It is my belief that Sloane is a direct descendant of this man.”

To this Weiss snorted in derision. “You don’t really believe that, just from a couple of visions, do you?”

To which Sydney gave him an arch look and responded, “You are not the one who saw these things. I don’t expect all of you to believe me, I guess, but it is all true. I can no longer doubt.”

Sark nodded and reinforced Sydney, “when I was partnered with Sloane at SD-6, he used to tell me how he believed that. It was a monk in Nepal, a Rambaldi scholar named Conrad who informed Sloane of his heritage and started him on this quest.”

Sydney thanked him silently and continued with the rest of her story. “In one vision, I find this serum and take it. One particularly nasty side effect is that it corrupts the brain. I become, basically, an evil force and I attempt to essentially control the world.”

At this, Vaughn, who had been silent the whole time recited the most telling part of the prophecy, “This woman here depicted will possess unseen marks. Signs that she will be the one to bring forth my works. Bind them with fury, a burning anger unless prevented at vulgar cost this woman will render the greatest power unto utter desolation.

Sydney nodded, shivering at the words – remembering the images. “The prophecy is all true. But there is one problem.” She paused and looked directly at Sark, and then her father. “Nobody can help me. The only person that can prevent the fury and burning anger is me. And in the image I saw where I did not use the serum – I was unable to see how I prevented it. All I saw was my entering the place and then exiting many hours later.”

Jack finally spoke, “There must be something we can do. I refuse to accept that there is nothing at all possible to be done to help you.”

Tears filled her eyes for the first time during her re-telling. “I’m sorry, dad. There really is nothing you can do except take me there and wait. This is something I have to do on my own.”

The other three men were equally unable to accept this right away. Sark stood up and started pacing the room. “There must be something Sloane knows that could help you with this. He might know what you will have to face and overcome.”

Sydney shook her head. “He does not know. The role he plays only comes later, when I am bent on destruction. He becomes my guide, my teacher, and the only one who does not suffer my wrath.”

The silence in the room became overwhelming.

Sydney got up and left before she completely lost control. It was a struggle, knowing that nobody could help you. Feeling the insane burden of essentially the future of the world, was more than any one person should have to deal with alone.

But here she was – in that exact situation. It was funny, when she was younger, and her whole world had revolved around school and friends, she had nobody to count on as well. When she had a bad day, if somebody had teased her – her father was never there to wipe away her tears.

Now that he was, now that she had not only a father, but a lover, and two incredibly loyal friends to help her – they were powerless to do anything but watch and wait.

Sometimes life just didn’t make sense. And she blamed it all on Sloane and some fifteenth century man with a God-complex.

Vaughn followed her out, and Sark let him – because he knew that there was still unfinished business between them and, after all, Vaughn had been with her from the start of this prophecy business.

“Sydney,” he said softly, “I want you to know how much I believe in you.”

She looked up into the eyes of the man she had left behind: the man who was limping because of her, the man who had taken a bullet for her. Sydney smiled.

“I know you do, now.”

“Sark told me something, when he gave me my black eye,” he said, somewhat sheepishly as he remembered his foolish pride.

She grinned, “And what did he tell you?”

“He told me that while he still had to loyalties to any country, he was no longer completely flexible. He told me that his loyalties lie with you. I believe that now. It hurts me still, but I believe it – and I believe in you.”

A tear slipped out of her eye as she smiled. “Thank you.”

Vaughn put a hand on her shoulder, not quite knowing how to end the conversation. Sydney knew, however, as she drew him in for a hug – an offer of friendship, that he accepted with a heavy heart.

Sark coughed from the doorway. Vaughn pulled away, sadly, and as he walked by Sark, he said softly, “She’s yours – but take care of her. Or I might just have to let you give me a black eye again.”

Sark arched an eyebrow and laughed. His face turned more solemn as he looked back at Sydney. She was exhausted, he could tell. So he pulled her into his arms and placed her gently on the couch.

“Just sleep,” he whispered as he stroked her soft hair. So she did, and he watched her as she slept.

---

Back in Los Angeles – at the JTF

Sloane was not a lucky man. He was bruised and swollen, lying in a CIA cell. Jack Bristow was not a forgiving man – and Sloane had crossed him too many times to ever be redeemed.

After Sydney had recounted her visions from Il Dire, Jack had paid a little visit to Sloane.

“It seems as though now you are in my custody, old friend,” Jack said, in his most unyielding tone.

At this point, Sloane was still convinced he could talk his way out of anything. “Jack, we have been friends for many years. It was never my intention to torture you. But such is the way of our profession, our chosen profession.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, “You have crossed me too many times to play that card, Arvin. You have used the one person that I never wanted to be used.”

It was a painful flight back to Los Angeles for Arvin Sloane.


And now he was stuck in a cell. So far away from his dream, from his destiny, that he no longer felt the pain from his bruises. All he felt was numbness and despair – from losing at the end of his lifelong goal. He had come so far, and lost so much that his will to live was the only thing he had left – and that was diminishing every moment he spent in the cell.

Meanwhile, in Dixon’s office all those involved met in private to discuss the next events that were to take place.

---

5 days later – Brazil, the Amazon

The lush rainforest was filled with life. There was even life in the humid mist that seeped in between the trees and other foliage.

The river was relatively peaceful as they floated along in the canoes they had acquired from some of the native tribes in the area. There was no joking on this mission. All were quiet. It was partly due to reverence and respect of their beautiful surroundings, but partly because nobody knew quite what to say.

They reached the enclave that lead to the lush area where the vial was located. The men could do nothing but wait there as Sydney made her way through the forest.

As she walked along, carefully watching for snakes, spiders, or other potentially poisonous creatures along her way, she feared the worst. She had no idea if she would be able to confront this evil, and save the world.

She really hated that. She hated the unknown. She hated not knowing how to destroy the serum, and how to stop herself from taking it.

And she hated the dreadful feeling of premonition that somehow her mother was involved. Facing Irina Derevko while trying to save the world was not on her top ten list of situations to face.

But here she was, navigating through the rainforest – alone, yet knowing exactly where she was going, even though she had never been there before.

Finally she reached the tree that she knew really held the vial on the inside – instead of the rest of the thick trunk. It was surrounded by a small circle empty of other plants, and it was as though the creatures knew what was there – for no animal dared come near that tree.

Sydney was filled with cold fear then, as she heard the sound of something approaching. She turned and was not really surprised when she saw that it was indeed her mother.

“I see you aren’t surprised to see me here, dear daughter. I suppose you know by now that this is your destiny and I am a part of it all.”

Sydney rolled her eyes. Just because she believed, did not mean she was going to start speaking of destiny and fate with her mother. “You know – this whole thing feels a little like Star Wars, except that I already know you’re my mother, so save the Darth Vadar routine for somebody who’s interested.”

Irina smiled. “You believe, but you refuse to accept. I suppose that is a product of your upbringing.”

“I suppose,” Sydney responded dryly. “Now, what I don’t know is whether you are here to try and help me, or if you are here to convince me that I have this hidden desire to rule the world.”

This time Irina laughed a full and throaty. “I know that I cannot influence your decision either way. I’m here to kill you if I must.”

“And in what situation is that necessary? Because supposedly, if I drink from this vial, I’m basically immortal.”

“That I cannot tell you,” Irina responded, in her usual cryptic tone.

“I suppose you are going to tell me that if in fact the woman in the prophecy chooses to destroy this vial, that her mother can stop that from happening, kill the girl, and use it herself.”

“Oh no, it is nothing like that. But I can help you. You did not see that much, but I can.”

Sydney looked at her mother in disbelief. “How?”

“By giving you this,” with those words, Irina handed her a document, “This is a Rambaldi artifact that came to me from a monk in Nepal – Conrad. Read this and make your decision.”

So Sydney read. And after she read, she knew exactly what she needed to do.

She looked at her mother, apologetic but determined. She picked up her tranquilizer gun and shot her mother. Irina crumpled to the ground as though she were boneless.

She searched her mother’s pockets and found what she was looking for – a needle. She filled half with her mother’s blood, cleaned the needle, and filled the rest with her own.

She then found the vial of the serum in the tree and opened it. She watched as the serum burned from contact with the mixture of their blood. If she had not been there, she would never have believed this was possible. But it was. When the vial was gone, she took the remaining blood and with it burned up the document – on which were instructions on how to recreate the formula.

Irina awoke just as the paper was finished burning. “So, it is done, then.”

“Yes mother, it is done. Derevko blood, mixed with Bristow blood – a mixture of hope.”

Irina shook her head, to clear the fog from her brain. “You know, you didn’t have to knock me out. I was not going to stop you.”

Sydney smiled. “I couldn’t risk it. Once I knew what to do, I knew that there was only one choice to make. And I didn’t know if I could trust you or not. So I did what I had to do.”

Her mother nodded, “I understand.”

“I know you do. Now, you must leave, and I must go back to the others.”

“I don’t know whether or not we will meet again, daughter.”

Sydney smiled sadly, “That is the way it must be. You will never be anything but an enemy to my country.”

Mother and daughter looked at each other, not speaking, not moving, and said a silent goodbye. They walked in their separate directions with heavy hearts – lightened only by the fact that the world was safe from Rambaldi. Though, Sydney had to admit, the whole ending was slightly anti-climactic. It was a ridiculous quest, she realized, but one she had learned something from.

The world was not fully black and white. And the shades of gray in between were what made life exciting.

As she returned to the enclave, she was met by her constant companions, the ones who had never doubted her on this mission – her father, her friends, and her shade of gray.

She was enveloped into her father’s arms as soon she was within range. “Is it done?” He asked.

“It is done,” she replied.

They all breathed a sigh of relief.

In a cell, far away, an old man lost his will to live. And drifted away quietly into the hereafter to face his eternal punishment for all of his evil deeds.
 
Epilogue

Grace
The refinement of a
Soul through time
-Jewel


The waves crashed in. They fell out slowly. The sand dug between her toes as she strolled barefoot along the Costa Rican beach. The whole scene was now familiar. She remembered well the walks along the beach at night, the way he held her in the ocean, and lazing on the sand during the day.

She remembered everything. In doing so, she had gained strength alone and with him. She had faced an enemy. She had vanquished an enemy. And she had found herself.

The night this all began, the night she was pulled to the California beach, the night that she decided to take her life into her own hands, had been a night like this. It had been warm, calm, and beautiful.

She had been so lost and broken then. Her mind had been so fearful of the next steps in her life, and had kept looking back, searching for answers.

She had found those answers. It had been a long, hard ride. But she had found answers, peace, and a solution to the madness of Rambaldi.

She was waiting for him to come home to her. Sark still had too much wanderlust in his blood to settle down yet. But one day that would come – he promised her. In the meantime he worked freelance, mainly with Jack which meant back-channel CIA work. It was not his first choice, but it was the option that allowed him to keep Sydney in his life.

Sark never imagined a life free from fear of the CIA. He would never be a patriot, as he felt no loyalty to any country. But he would get the thrill of the chase, the anticipation of the next move, and the action. He loved the action, and would never be satisfied without it.

After what she had been though with Il Dire, and what it told her, and the aftermath of that situation, Sydney retired.

Her heart tightened at the memories, still too fresh and full of pain at the loss of her mother. The beach was soothing to her, and she knew the moment she had come back to the house in Costa Rica, that she would live there the rest of her life. She had seen the world, and may travel again for pleasure, but her home would always be this beach, with the sound of the ocean calming her soul.

Joy
The ocean crashes
Loudly
My brain feels detached from the rest of my body
I close my eyes
I feel the waves all around me
They are inside of me
Cleansing
Freeing
Beautiful
I open my eyes
I feel wonder
Amazement
Joy


He watched her walk from the screened in porch. He was home from a job, for a week this time.

She looked up, knowing he was there, their connection still strong even after all the years. She smiled.

They stood there, a beach apart, just staring at each other. Both started walking at the same time, meeting in the middle. He cupped her cheek; she placed a hand on his heart.

He was thanking her again, for choosing Hope. She was accepting.

“You know what I was thinking?” She asked him, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“What were you thinking?”

She grinned broadly, “I was thinking we should repeat our ocean performance from a year ago. You know, make it an annual event.”

Sark nodded in mock solemnity, with a gleam in his eyes responding to her playfulness. “I think that could be arranged.”

They made their way, hand in hand, down to the beach.

FIN
 
WOW..That was a perfect ending, loved how Irina was there at the end to help her choose and how Slone died after she destroyed the vile.
Loved the ending how he worked freelance for the CIA instead of for the bad guys cause he loves Syd..awwww.
Sad to see the story end, I'm gonna miss your PM's..

~Rach~
 
Crying....I have actual tears in my eyes. That was so amazing. I loved it. But I can't bring myself to quote your final posts. Everything was beautiful, the way Vaughn and her finally made peace, Sidney and her father are closer than ever, Slone dead!, Sidney and her mother realizing that they were always suppose to be there together, and Sid and Sark together. That was great Aims...I loved.

I am sad to see it end..but I know your next fic will be equally as amazing!
 
WOW that was wonderful!!!! the whole Rambaldi wasn't too much, don't worry, it seemed to work perfectly. and it was so cool how Irina was there, too! I loved your fic!!! :love: GREAT JOB!!! :happydance: (y) :groupwave: :cheers: :clap: 👍 ^_^
 
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