This was written shortly after episode 2 of season 4 aired.
Title: Of Men and Spies
Author: JBgirl (Julie)
Rating: So far PG, but it may become R-ish.
Summary: Because I am OBSESSED with the new season four, this is supposed to be just after episode 2 even though I know that Sark and Anna don't come back til episode 8-ish.
A dark-haired head popped around the corner of the open doorway.
“Sydney, we need you in Sloane’s office.”
The woman behind the desk looked up and smiled.
“I’ll be right there, Nadia.”
Quickly, Sydney Bristow gathered the many assorted files scattered willy-nilly on
her modern-looking desk. One of the files accidentally slipped from her fingers
and landed like an open book on the floor. A large photograph graced the page
as if it were a graphical title. The framed dirty-dishwater blonde stared back at
her with the hint of an inexplicable smirk. Sark. Grabbing the file, Sydney
slammed it shut and unceremoniously placed it with the others in the cabinet. As
much as he annoyed her in the flesh, he was not going to do the same with a
simple picture. Just two days before, Agent Kendall stopped by out-of-the-blue.
As startled as she was, he apparently had clearance. The big red id card
monopolizing the left side of his standard black suit was evident enough. He had
gathered the team together–Sydney, Vaughn, Jack, Dixon, Nadia, Marshall,
Sloane, and the newly-acquired Weiss–and informed them that the Covenant was
back after a short hiatus. His had said his position in the very entangled web of
the black operations spy world was top secret, but they were to follow his orders.
He would temporarily have authority over all of the APO, even over their new boss.
The objective was to find out what the Covenant was up to. The APO didn’t have
an on-staff research team, so Sydney was given the assignment of researching
previous and current members. Unfortunately, Sark and Lauren were two of said
members. The thought still nagged at her that she should have known Lauren was
part of the Covenant, which, of course, didn’t make sense to anyone else. Heaving
a sigh, Sydney went to join the others in Sloane’s office.
“We have just learned that Erick Terenkov”, Kendall pushed a button and the
ugliest man in the world popped up on their monitors, “Covenant leader of the
European cell, has teamed up with Anna Espinosa,” he pushed another
button, “former K-Directorate, and enemy of the defunct SD-6. Agent Bristow will
update you on their activities. ”
Sydney spoke up immediately.
“Erick Terenkov, former KGB, now works for the Covenant and is rumored to
have ties with everyone from Hollywood director J.J. Abrams to Osama Bin
Laden. Anna Espinosa worked for K-Directorate before disappearing. She has
been assumed dead for over four years.”
Kendall nodded at her in brief thanks. “Apparently she’s not. According to our
intel, they are trying to put the last piece in the Rambaldi jig-saw puzzle.”
A mental groan went through Sydney Bristow’s brain.
“Of course,” Kendall went on, “we can’t allow for that to happen. So we’ve
arranged for Mr. Sark to supply us with a little information.”
In unison, Vaughn, Sydney, and Weiss questioned with a loud, “WHAT?”
“He’s not to be trusted,” impressed Sydney.
“He’s a freakin’ psycho killer,” prompted Weiss.
Vaughn simply looked down at the very white table and glowered, saying nothing.
Large wrinkles deepened in the skin above his brow.
“We had eggs,” said a confused Marshall with a shrug.
All eyes turned in his direction.
“Well, I...see...all of you left...it felt like a ghost town...he was a familiar face and–“
“Sydney, Vaughn, Nad–heck with it–EVERYONE, your mission is to break Sark
from the CIA facility in Los Angeles. Marshall has the specs and building plans.
You leave tonight.” With that, Kendall left the room.
Silence reigned throughout the room and the turning of wheels could almost be
heard, though Weiss’ seemed to be a mite squeaky.
“Why do we have to break him out?” asked a bewildered Weiss. “Why don’t we
just ask for him to be transferred?”
If Jack were a humorous person, he might have laughed. Unfortunately, he
wasn’t.
“Because we are a black ops division of the CIA.” He leaned toward Weiss. “We.
Don’t. Exist.”
“Ok, man, you’re scaring me.”
Five hours later, the team was on their way.
The van was quiet. Everyone was keeping busy–Sydney being mad at Jack,
Vaughn being his usual somber self, Dixon driving, Marshall working on the
computer, and Weiss making eyes at Nadia. Sloane stayed at headquarters to
supervise. Unexpectedly, Jack’s cell phone chirped. After a minute he closed the
phone and looked up.
“That was Kendall. Change of plans. Sark is being transferred to a more secure
location. We’re to intercept them and extract the prisoner just before they reach
their destination–CIA headquarters.” Dixon turned the wheel and the van spun in
a complete 180. Then Jack answered the unasked question.
“It seems the higher-ups wanted to keep Sark for themselves and in doing so
conspired against Kendall.”
Everyone put on their coms as the elder Bristow gave them what details he had
and passed the intel onto Sloane. Vaughn immediately began giving interrogative
orders. “Marshall, can you use satellite imagery to track the transport?
“I...just a sec...have to check...”
“Well, can you or not?”
“Vaughn!” Sydney scolded. “Please, stop haranguing Marshall. He’s doing the
best he can, just as we all are.”
Vaughn looked mutinous, but refrained from saying more.
Dixon signaled to everyone. “Jack, I see a vehicle up ahead matching the
description you gave me. Do you want me to pursue?” Jack climbed into the
passengers seat. “Marshall, do you have anything on the radar?”
“No. The spectrum is too broad. Every car, truck, and van looks the same.” CIA
headquarters was less than a mile away.
Sydney and her father exchanged looks as if to confirm what they were both
thinking.
“Do it.”
The vans tires squealed as it shot past the transport. A quick turn of the wheel
and the target automobile was dead in the water.
Both teams jumped out at the same time. Chaos ensued as the APO team tried to
tranquilize the guards as quickly as possible. Everyone was shouting to be heard
over the short spats of gunfire the CIA sentinels managed to get off.
Only Jack’s voice could be heard over the com. “They must have been expecting
us! There are too many of them! Phoenix, extract the target and retreat! We’ll
hold them off!”
Sydney whirled to the back of the transport and wrenched open the door. Waiting
inside were four armed guards and Sark. Skillfully putting a dart in each guard’s
neck, she grabbed the manacled blonde by his arm and dragged him into the
nearest alley.
Julian Lazarey looked astounded. “Sydney Bristow?” His trademark smirk crept
onto his face. “I don’t believe it. You, a CIA operative, are breaking me–“
Sydney slammed him against the dank cement wall, hissed “Shut up, Sark,” and
deftly shot him in the foot.
He slumped to the floor. Hurriedly she grabbed a handful of unidentifiable grime
and ran it through his curly locks and over his face. Taking out her knife, she
used the toothed edge to cut ragged holes in his prison coveralls. More dirt
followed soon after. Without warning, Sark’s body involuntarily shivered. Los
Angeles nights were chilly during the month of December. Sydney could feel his
warm skin through his shirt as she dragged him across the alley and laid him
against a dumpster. She covered him with all the trash and garbage she could
find. Her foot accidentally kicked a hidden stack of mostly empty beer bottles
over with a loud CRASH!
felgercarb.
Being the queen of improvisation, Sydney
grabbed an unbroken bottle with some liquid still in it and doused Sark with the
remaining contents.. Out on the road, a vehicle could be heard racing away while
a voice shouted, “They went this way! Through the alley!” With amazing agility,
Sydney scrambled into the dumpster and shut the lid with not a second to spare.
Men rushed down the alley, pointing their guns this way and that.
“There’s somebody over here!” cried one of the younger soldiers. The captain of
the guard rushed over to look.
“It’s just a tramp.” He leaned down and sniffed. “A drunk tramp at that. Watch
this.” The leader delivered a swift kick to the small of Sark’s back. A low groan
reached the men’s ears as they laughed at his misery.
“Alright, men, keep searching. They can’t have gone far. Rigby, take a look in
that dumpster!”
A broad, heavily-muscled man lifted one of the lids just enough to peep in. The
smell that permeated the air made his stomach lurch.
“Sir, I think something died in there!”
The captain wasn’t about to sample anything that smelled of rotting flesh, not even
oxygen. He took a few steps farther from the dumpster.
“Probably a dead rat. Continue on.”
When the last shuffling of feet could no longer be heard, Sydney peeked out of the
large receptacle. Seeing the coast was clear, she jumped out and bent over,
promptly donating her supper to the rats. Putting a shaky hand to her mouth, the
young spy attempted to calm her raging heaves. A minute later, two shadowy
figures, one physically supporting the other, exited the alleyway.
Breathing heavily into the handset of the pay phone, she considered her choices,
came up with one decision, and dialed the number.
“Bristow.”
“Dad, it’s me.”
“Sydney, where are you?
“I have Sark and we’re headed to Baldur’s Gate.”
“We’re on our way. ETA twenty minutes.”
Baldur’s Gate was the codename for a disco club nearby. Good spies always hid
things in plain site. Now they were going to hide in plain site. Well, at least in
public. As Sydney opened the side door, Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive blasted
through her ear drums. How fitting. Towing the still-sluggish and shackled Sark
along, the exhausted woman dropped them both into chairs in the darkest corner
of the flashing room. Strange, the ball was slowly dropping. Oh yes, it was New
Year’s eve, wasn’t it? A disco New Year’s eve party. There wasn’t any place she’d
rather be.
People avoided them like the plague. Sydney attributed it to the extreme stench
that seemingly rolled off her. Sark merely reeked of alcohol, though he looked
much the worse for wear. A few minutes later Nadia walked through the
doorway. As they carried Sark outside, Nadia asked her sister, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
The door of the nondescript van opened just as they reached it.
“What is that awful smell? And what in the world did you do to Sark?” asked
Weiss.
Sydney leaned back in her seat as she went on to explain the events of the
evening..
“Oh, and Marshall, I don’t think this wetsuit is completely waterproof.”
“It should be. I tested it completely before the mission.”
“Ketchup must not be made of water then. At least, I think it’s ketchup.”
Everyone but Dixon stared at her in horror. She laughed.
“Guys, it’s ok,” Sydney looked over and grinned at Nadia, “At least we didn’t have
to crawl through those sewer pipes.”
Sark awoke almost immediately after Jack injected him with the antidote to the
tranquilizer. He found himself strapped into a chair in a small room. Sydney
stood nearby.
The smirk returned instantly.
“I must say, I am quite surprised by your actions. I didn’t know you cared so
much.”
“We were simply transferring you from one cell to another,” countered a rather
irked Sydney.
Sark started as he saw his reflection in the observation window. “My God,
Sydney, what did you do to me?”
Sydney assumed her most menacing look and said coldly, “You will address me as
Agent Bristow.”
“You obviously aren’t an agent any more, Sydney, if that last escapade meant
what I think it does. By the way, what is that awful stench?”
Again the look. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Sark, and don’t call me Sydney.”
Behind her, the door opened. Kendall and Sloane walked in.
Sark’s eyebrows rose just a little. “My, isn’t this day just full of surprises.”
“Jack, Sydney. Good work out there,” Sloane commented.
Sydney glared back.
“We’d like a few minutes with Mr. Sark,” said Kendall, though it was definitely
more of an order than a statement.
“What? Why can’t we stay?” Sydney’s night was definitely not getting any better.
“Why don’t you two go home and get some rest. We’ll let you know if we find out
anything,” assured Sloane.
Reluctantly, Jack and Sydney stood up to leave.
For some reason they weren’t very convinced by Sloane’s assurances.
Early the next morning, Sydney stepped out of the shower and put on her
bathrobe. She had to stifle a scream after looking into the mirror. There was
STILL garbage in her hair after three washings. Opening the door, the perturbed
woman stomped into the living room.
“Nadia, could you help me? I can’t get these pieces of trash out of my hair.”
Her sister smiled and took the comb from her. As Nadia attempted to untangle
the snarls caused by the unknown objects, she asked, “Is Vaughn coming over
tonight?”
“He should be.”
“What does that mean?”
Sydney sighed.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. Vaughn wouldn’t talk to me last night. When I
asked what was bothering him, he mumbled something about Sark and walked
away.” She turned and looked at Nadia.
“He hasn’t forgotten about Lauren.”
“Dad, have they found out anything?”
“I don’t know, Sydney. I’m not privy to any intel pertaining to Sark.”
“But it’s been two days! Surely Sloane told you e truth?”
“I have already told her the truth that she needs to hear.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it.”
“Perhaps not, but I would rather have her remember Irina in a positive light,
wouldn’t you?”
He turned and walked away.
An hour later, Sydney walked into Sloane’s office for a recently scheduled
meeting. There stood Sark, practically gleaming in a black suit that contrasted
sharply with the white backdrop of the office. Their eyes locked. Brown versus
blue in a battle of wills.
“Agent Bristow, you may take a seat,” Kendall interrupted their small war and
gestured in the direction of the other attendees. Everyone was there except for
Marshall. Just at that moment, Marshall burst into the room.
“Oh, Syd, I’m glad I caught up with you. I wanted to give you these files before
the meeting star–“ Marshall’s eyes located the person directly behind Sydney. His
eyes widened enormously as he stepped closer to her and attempted to whisper
indiscreetly, “Syd, Sark is here.”
“We know.”
Marshall opened his mouth as if to say something, stopped, closed his mouth, and
gave Sydney the folders he was holding.
“Hello...again,” Marshall looked ready to turn tail and run.
Sark nodded ever so slightly,“The pleasure is all mine, Agent Flinkman.”
At a loss for words, Marshall scurried over to the couch and sat down. Sydney
followed at a much slower pace.
Sloane cleared his throat.
“Kendall and I have finished our negotiations with Mr. Sark and we have come to
an agreement. In exchange for his freedom, Mr. Sark will help us in any way that
he can. Please welcome him to the team.”
As expected, everyone was quite stunned by the highly unusual news. Sydney
spoke first.
“Unbelievable.”
“I assure you, Ms. Bristow,” said a very cool Sark, “it is all quite believable. I
have information that would take the CIA years to discover, and because of that, I
am a valued commodity in your world.”
“What information might that be?”
Sark grinned. “Now, Ms. Bristow, like your mother, the information I have is on a
need-to-know basis. Otherwise, I’d lose my value.”
Vaughn spoke up, “Agent Kendall, a word?”
Kendall seemed to contemplate this for a second, then nodded at Sark and
Sloane. They both left the room.
“I thought you might have some objections.”
“Objections? I have no objections,” said a seething Vaughn, “I have only one
question. Why aren’t we beating the information out of this bastard? We've
practically invited him to play triple-agent for the Covenant.”
“That, Agent Vaughn, is not your concern.” said Kendall sternly. “Instead, you
should be concerned about Erick Terenkov and Anna Espinosa. Sydney, please
update Agent Sark on the situation at hand and get all the information you can out
of him. In the meantime I want everyone else to keep a sharp eye out. This
meeting is over.”
Vaughn pulled Sydney into a vacant room as soon as she stepped out of Sloane’s
office.
“You aren’t going to accept this are you?”
“Accept, no, but I will sap Sark for all he’s worth, and then throw him back in a
cell where he belongs. If I have to manipulate the devil to catch two demons, so
be it.”
“I can’t handle this. This situation is just too insane and preposterous.”
“Does this have anything to do with Lauren?”
Vaughn looked at her with his usual expression of sorrow, but didn’t say anything.
Sydney was getting irritated. In fact, she was still a little mad about the way he
ignored her after the last mission.
“Don’t worry about me; I can handle myself. We’ll talk about this later. I have a
meeting with Sark.”
She turned and left.
It took Sydney less than five minutes to update Sark on the information the APO
had so far.
“Erick Terenkov and Anna Espinosa have combined forces. We believe their
objective is to solve the Rambaldi mystery. We don’t know what artifacts they
have uncovered, if there are any at all, or what they are searching for. Do you
know anything about this?”
Julian studied her face for a moment.
“Before we start in on this extremely complicated matter, I would just like to say I
am overjoyed to be your coworker once more. I said once before that we were
destined to work togther; I still truly believe that.”
She eyed him suspiciously.
“Sark, let’s clear one thing up here and now. There is no ‘working together’. We
are only talking because you have information that I need. Remember that.”
The man in question narrowed his eyes.
“And you, Sydney, would do well to remember that you need me. In case your
boyfriend happens to forget while we are in the field.”
It was her turn to narrow her eyes.
“Don’t push me, Sark. With the exception of your jaw, I will gladly break every
bone in your body.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“What would stay your hand from breaking my jaw?”
“Kendall wants you to remain intelligible.”
Julian leaned back in his chair and smirked.
“Well, then, let’s get to it.”
“We have to what?” demanded Dixon.
Sydney repeated herself, “We have to steal the Mona Lisa.”
Jack took over from there.
“According to Sark’s intel, Leonardo da Vinci was not only a rumored member of
the Illuminati, but also a Rambaldi follower. Apparently, da Vinci encoded a
message on the back of the painting. Like the forty-seventh page of Rambaldi’s
journal, the message can only be revealed using a special liquid substance.
Unfortunately, Espinosa recently acquired the liquid, though we don’t know what
kind of container it is stored in. Terenkov and Espinosa plan to steal the painting
as it’s being transferred to be restored in less than twenty-four hours.”
Kendall nodded at Marshall.
Marshall stood up and cleared his throat.
“Hello everyone. How are we doing today? Good. Did anyone catch that Roy
Rogers’ western last night? It was really good. I used my nifty TIVO to record
it...in case any of you might want–sorry Mr. Kendall and Mr. Sloane. You know,
that’s kind of weird there are two of you, I really don’t know which one to–oh
right.” Marshall pushed a button. On the screens a map of the Louvre
appeared. “Here is where you’ll enter. The restoration facility is located within
the building so–“
“Weiss, can I have a word?”
He looked up from his cluttered desk.
“Sure, Sydney, let’s go in there.”
They entered the same vacant room Vaughn had pulled her into earlier.
“What’s up?” He asked, looking boyishly adorable.
Sydney looked down at the ground for a moment.
“Has Vaughn...spoken to you?”
“About what?”
Sydney looked into this eyes.
“About Lauren.”
Weiss immediately knew something wasn’t quite right.
“No, Syd, he hasn’t talked to me about it. What is it? Did he say something to
you?”
She could feel the tears forming in her eyes.
“No, that’s just it. He won’t talk to me. He’s put up a wall, closed himself off, and
I don’t know what to do about it.”
Weiss pulled her into a hug.
“Don’t cry. It will all work out. Just give him some time.”
“He doesn’t need time. He needs closure. I thought killing Lauren might have
given him that.”
Weiss sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Sydney, but–“
“I am interrupting something?” Sark leaned against the wall nonchalantly.
“No,” Sydney said angrily, “we were just leaving.” Glaring at Sark, she stalked
from the room.
“What’s to keep Sark from escaping the moment he gets a chance?” a concerned
Jack questioned Kendall. “An opportunity is sure to present itself quite quickly if
you insist on letting him go into the field.”
“We believe Sark is a not triple-agent for the Covenant, but, instead, is working
for himself. He needs us to achieve whatever purpose he’s after. As is the case
with Sloane, we’d rather be able to keep an eye on him.”
“My daughter’s eye, I’ve gathered.”
Kendall looked him.
“Like it or not, Jack, Sark wants your daughter to stay alive. According to her
reports, he has had numerous chances to end her life, but plainly hasn’t taken the
initiative to do so.”
“That may be, but what if he changes his mind?”
“Then Sydney will do what she has to. She’s a big girl, Jack. Your daughter can
take care of herself.”
A shadowy figured appeared out of the night and crept to the side door of a large
building. Seconds later another shadow followed. The first shadow grabbed the
small pouch hung on her belt.
“Merlin, are you sure about this?”
“Definitely, Phoenix, the security is on the inside. They don’t care if you get in,
but most likely you won’t be getting out.” A beat of silence. “Unnnless you have
me that is.”
“Thank you for that assurance,” said a very sarcastic British voice.
“Sorry,”squeaked Marshall, “Don’t kill me.”
Sydney quickly picked the lock, turned the handle, and the two hurried inside.
Swiftly moving down the hallway, they soon reached the desired room.
“I don’t see the painting. I don’t see any paintings.”
“Anna must have gotten here first.”
“Why would she take all of them? And how did she–“ Sydney sniffed the air. “Do
you smell that?”
Sark lifted his nose and took a deep breath. “Paint. This room is being
renovated.”
Sydney took a deep breath for other reasons.
“Merlin, the Mona Lisa isn’t here. The room is being renovated. Can you find the
current location?”
The sound of typing could be heard over their coms.
“It’s been temporarily moved to room thirteen in the southwest wing and is
awaiting the morning transfer to restoration.”
Room thirteen was so small that it held but one painting. The Mona Lisa. Sydney
could only stare. Though she had seen the painting dozens of times, just at that
moment, the small smile seemed so familiar. So small was the smile, in fact, that
it could have been a...smirk. Sydney turned her head and carefully regarded
Sark. Sark’s blue eyes considered her as well. After a few moments, he cocked
his head to the side and asked, “Is there a problem?”
Her thoughts interrupted, Sydney shook her head. “No, no there isn’t.” She
spoke into her com, “Merlin, is everything ready?”
“Blocking alarm frequency now,” came the voice in her ear, “You have three
minutes before systems are back online.”
Sark opened two very large knives and gave one to Sydney. As he cut inside the
top and right edges of the frame, she took the left and the bottom. As bad as she
felt about potentially defacing a famous work of art, there was no way they could
have carried the heavy frame around without getting caught. When the alarm
sounded two minutes later, the guards found the room completely empty.
Sydney and Sark climbed into the van in which Nadia and Weiss were waiting.
Marshall and Vaughn were in another van nearby. Dixon and Jack were currently
on assignment in Nepal with Sloane supervising.
“Let’s boogey,” Weiss said as he winked at Nadia. She smiled back. Sydney
couldn’t help but smile herself. Sark remained impassive, though his blue eyes
were clearly assessing the pair.
“Your mother didn’t tell me much about you, Nadia.”
Nadia turned and leveled her gaze at him.
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” continued Sark, “in fact, I quite by accident stumbled upon the knowledge
of your existence. I overheard Irina talking on the phone. She mentioned ‘her
daughter Nadia’ and ‘the passenger’. I was intrigued to say the least.”
“And are you disappointed with what you found?” asked Nadia.
“On the contrary, I am even more intrigued.”
Sydney was about to tell Sark to shut his mouth when, without warning, blue and
red lights could be seen flashing in the reflection of the side mirrors as the sound
of a siren crept closer.
“How in the heck did they spot us?” demanded a very perplexed Weiss. Already
three police cars were following them.
Eric sped up in an attempt to lose the three tails. Unfortunately, two more cars
joined the procession. Six streets and two alleys later, Weiss made a decision.
“We can’t outrun them in this. We’re going to have to split up.”
Nadia nodded in agreement. “Sydney, Eric and I will head west, you take Sark
and go east. Keep the painting with you. We’ll meet at the extraction point in six
hours.” She quickly repeated the plan over her com. Dixon and the others
agreed to keep a surveillance on the Louvre in hopes of espying Espinosa.
With a last turn of the wheel, Weiss pulled onto a broad street and slammed on
the brakes. The van squealed to a grinding halt. The four people flew out of the
van and slipped away into the darkness of the starless night.
Sydney stopped running in order to catch her breath. Sark was but a moment
behind. He slowed and followed her lead. They both were breathing hard and
sweating profusely.
“I think,” Sydney gasped, “we lost them.”
They both collapsed against the side of a building. Sark leaned his head back and
half-closed his eyes.
“After fifteen miles of running, I would hope so.”
Silence prevailed and the only thing to be heard was their ragged breathing.
After a few minutes, Sydney stood up and said, “There’s a safe house a few miles
from here. We’ll take cover there until it’s time to meet at the extraction point.”
Sark nodded and stood up, but before he could move any further, a figure pinned
him to the wall while another figure tackled Sydney. Faster than lightning, they
both had their attackers on the ground moaning, when another wave struck. This
time there were three thugs for them each. As valiantly as they fought, sheer
numbers overcame their efforts. Both were held in place.
“It seems you have something of mine, Sydney,” came a woman’s voice from the
shadows.
Sydney knew that voice. Anna Espinosa. No sooner had the thought come to her
mind, when the woman herself stepped into the faint morning light.
“I would be most pleased if you would hand over the painting, now.”
“I would, but I just can’t. Neither my arms nor my hands seem to be functional
right now.” If looks could kill, Anna would have been frozen solid.
Espinosa chillingly smiled back. “I guess I’ll just have to take it.”
She moved closer, but just before capturing the Mona Lisa from Sydney’s person,
Anna noticed Sark. Her fingers outstretched in mid-air, she stopped to examine
the lean curly-headed blonde.
“Sark?” The imposing woman moved toward him.
He nodded in greeting. “Anna.”
“You two know each other?” Sydney asked incredulously.
Anna gave her a critical once over. “This your new girlfriend, Sark? I would have
thought you had better taste.” Her hand moved as if to caress his face, but
ceased halfway.
“I supposed it doesn’t matter anyway.” She walked over and plucked the
protective case from under Sydney’s arm. “I have what I want.” Pointing to two
of her hired help, she said, “You. Kill them.” With that, Anna Espinosa was gone.
The thugs forced them both to kneel and put pistols to the back of their heads.
Sydney looked at Sark, down to her knees, then back up. His eyes flickered with
understanding.
“Say goodbye,” one of the thugs growled.
With lightning reflexes, the two spies moved in unison, swinging their legs around
and knocking the two men to the ground. Grabbing the dropped guns, Sydney
and Sark took off running down the alley.
Rounding the corner, they ran headlong into a third man, who appeared to be
guarding the alley entrance. Sydney attempted to kick the gun from his hand, but
he blocked it with his arm. The thug didn’t even take the time to aim after that,
he simply pulled the trigger.
Time slowed to a crawl for the spy duo. The man’s index finger began to bend
slowly, ready to finish the deadly task. As the younger Bristow struggled to
remove herself from death’s path, Sark jumped in front of her and emptied the
chamber of his gun into the shooter. The dying man staggered backwards,
shooting bullets wildy at random. Unluckily, a rogue bullet found it’s mark and
pierced Sark’s flesh. The momentum of the projectile pushed him backwards into
Sydney and they both fell to the cement floor. A rivulet of blood ran down the
length of his arm and began to fall in small droplets from the tips of his fingers.
“Sark, where were you hit?” Sydney asked as she pushed the wounded man to
his feet.
He winced in pain. “I can suddenly feel my left shoulder all too clearly, so I
assume that would be the spot.”
Carefully, Sydney cut a hole in his form-fitting black turtleneck and sighed in relief
at the results of her investigation.
“Just a flesh wound.”
Sark winced once more as she tore his left sleeve off and fashioned a makeshift
bandage.
“That should hold you until we reach the safe house. Do you think you can make
it?” There was no compassion in her voice. No concern was etched on her face.
It was a devilish challenge, plain as day.
Sark couldn’t help but stare. He had just saved her life and there she was,
treating him like dirt once more. What an ungrateful—an ice-cold raindrop landed
on his ear. Seconds later the skies opened and poured out their vengeance on
Paris.
“Let’s go.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him along.
The safe house was small, box-like, and it looked just like every other place of
dwelling in the surrounding area. The wonders of Suburbia.
After checking every room and securing the perimeter, Sydney retrieved a
medical kit from under the kitchen sink.
“Take off your shirt and sit down,” she said while selecting specific items from the
white box.
Sark complied without so much as a peep, though wincing was quickly becoming
his least favorite expression.
Using a wet cloth to clear away some of the blood, Sydney made a more thorough
inspection of the wound.
“The bullet grazed the top of your left shoulder. Looks like it went completely
through. This will just need a few stitches.”
As soon as she was through closing up the wound, Sark looked her in the eyes
and said, “Thank you.” Their faces were but a few inches apart.
Uncomfortable with his sudden nearness, Sydney stepped back and said, “Kendall
would be angry if you died because of me,” as if trying to condone her recent
actions.
Sark stood up slowly. As he spoke next, a smirk began to form on his pale face.
“Once you get past your open hostility, Sydney, perhaps one day we could be
friends.”
She looked straight at him, eyes burning with fire and rage.
“Never. You ruined my life,” the harsh whisper came through clenched teeth.
“A life recently saved by yours truly.”
She visibly flinched at the reminder.
“Saving my life only means that one day I must return the favor. It doesn’t
require that I tolerate you any more than I already do.”
Sark closed his eyes, appearing to ponder her words. A moment later, the blue
orbs were unveiled once more.
“You believe I am responsible for the destruction your life? On the contrary, I
believe you are the one who ruined mine.”
Sydney Bristow’s willpower was stretched to the maximum.
“What? How do you justify that statement?”
“You killed not one, but two of the people I have loved. I’m sure you are in no
position to say the same.”
The tension between them could be felt, maybe even plucked, much like a taut
rubber band.
“What a cocky bastard you are, Sark. You deserved the misery, if in fact their
deaths caused you any pain at all.” She failed to point out that Will had actually
killed Alison. “I’ve had enough of this conversation, shallow as it is.” Grabbing a
shirt from the closet, Sydney tossed it in his direction.
“Get dressed, we meet at the extraction point in 3 hours.”
“What of the painting?” Sark asked as he carefully slipped on the shirt made of
Egyptian cotton. The CIA definitely kept the place well-stocked.
“What about the painting?”
“Perhaps you didn’t notice, but Anna Espinosa relieved us of that priceless burden.”
“Actually, I threw it away,” Sydney replied as she walked into the bedroom en
route the bathroom.
“You can’t be serious.“
The bedroom door was slammed in response.
After cooling down in a very relaxing bath, the dark-haired girl took time to mull
over the conversation. Nothing made sense anymore. How could Sark have
possibly accused her of ruining his life? After all, he chose this life. He knew the
dangers. Then again, so did she. Sydney tried to shake away that annoying
thought. Trying to clear her mind, she sunk deeper into the water. An hour later,
she decided to finally make her way out of the tub. Her hand reached for a towel,
but it wasn’t in its usual place. Sydney mentally smacked herself upside the
head. In her anger and rage, she had forgotten to grab one out of the drawer.
The only problem was...the drawer was empty. At this point, her options were
limited. Her clothes had been left forgotten outside the door. She had planned to
change into something from the bedroom closet, but wasn’t about to take the
chance of Sark walking in. Sydney decided to use her dirty clothes temporarily.
She grabbed the doorknob and...it fell off.
felgercarb.
The window was too small to climb out of, even if she was crazy enough to try in
her unclothed state.
felgercarb.
She could kick the door down and have Sark come rushing in to see what was up.
Wouldn’t that be lovely. Sydney paced the small bathroom for another hour,
trying to devise an ingenious way out of the mess, when a knock sounded at the
door.
“What?”
A muffled British voice drifted through the door. “We should be leaving if we are
going to arrive at the extraction point on time.”
“I know.” Sydney tried to sound gruff and irritated by the interruption.
Silence.
“Sydney, you aren’t stuck are you?”
Her mind raced. “Stuck? What do you mean stuck? I’m not stuck. Why would I
be stuck?”
A slight sigh wafted though the crack at the bottom of the door. “You’ve locked
yourself in the bathroom, haven’t you?”
Against her better judgement, the reply that issued from between her lips was a
defeated, “Yes.”
Another sigh, this time tinged with impatience.
“How exactly did you manage such a feat? The lock is on the inside.”
More silence.
“Sydney?”
Overcoming her pride, she calmly replied, “The doorknob fell off.”
Muffled laughter drifted to her ears.
Sydney said loudly, “You’re going to have to pick the lock and open the door from
that side...and bring a towel.”
“For what?”
“For me.”
The door opened a few minutes later. Sark was leaning sideways against the
frame, smirking.
“My, my, Agent Bristow, the fixes you get yourself into.”
“My towel?”
His right arm stretched out elegantly, towel in its hold.
Not about to show her embarrassment, she accepted the towel with grace and
covered herself, offering him a curt, “Thank you”, in return.
“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine.”
“It’s in there.” Sydney pointed at the dumpster.
“You concealed the Mona Lisa in a trash bin?”
“She’s in a protective case.”
“I may not possess the appreciation for the fine arts that I should, but, Sydney,
really, this is most appalling. Besides, didn’t Espinosa procure the case from
you?” questioned a curious, but slightly horrified Sark.
Sydney smiled triumphantly. “I brought two.”
It was good to be home. Espinosa was still at large, but at least she didn’t have
Sark’s Mom. That’s what Sydney had to taken to calling the Mona Lisa. If only he
knew. The thought made her smile mischievously.
“What’s that smile for?” asked Weiss. He was helping her cook dinner for Nadia
and Vaughn.
“I’m just happy to be home.”
“What? Didn’t you enjoy Paris, zee capital of love?” His French accent was
absolutely horrendous. She laughed hysterically at his antics for another fifteen
minutes. Just as Weiss was beginning to make her cry, the doorbell rang. A
breathless Sydney wiped the tears from her eyes and took a quick peek in the hall
mirror to make sure her make-up hadn’t run. Taking a deep breath, she opened
the door.
“Hey, guys, come on–Sark? What are you doing here?”
He certainly looked magnificent in his black Armani suit, and his black Armani tie,
and his black Armani overcoat. Even his hair was curled to perfection. Something
was up. Sydney could smell it in the air.
“A good evening to you as well, Sydney. I hope you have sufficiently recovered
from our eventful trip.”
Sydney’s cheeks attempted to turn a bright red. She willed them not to.
“What do you want, Sark?”
“I simply wanted to return these.” He held up a pair of lacy, black string bikini
underpants. “I found them mixed in with my own clothing.”
Sydney gasped. She had worn those on the day of the mission. Their absence
hadn’t been missed. Just as she reached to snatch them from Julian’s hands, an
angry voice growled, “What’s going on here?”
Vaughn. Standing on the porch. Watching Sark dangle Sydney’s sexy underpants
in front of her.
felgercarb.
Sark placed the object of everyone’s attention in her hands and smirked. “I was
just leaving.”
He practically danced down the walkway to his black Mercedes.
As soon as the perpetrator was gone, Vaughn immediately wanted to know what
was going on. “Why was he holding your underwear?”
Sydney tried her best to explain about the...mix-up. Though the fiasco in the
bathroom artfully managed to be left untold, most likely for the best. When she
was done, he seemed satisfied with her explanation. “I’m sorry, Syd. It’s just
after what he and Lauren did–“
She nodded to show her understanding.
In truth, Sydney Bristow was getting very tired of reminiscing about Lauren.
The sky was a glorious blue and the white sand soft as silk. The days went by in a
slow, beautiful haze. Sydney had never been happier. Vacationing in Fiji was one
of Vaughn’s better ideas. She looked over at the beach chair next to her and
smiled at the occupant. Vaughn smiled back. Her hand reached down to grab his,
but it wasn’t there. Vaughn wasn’t there. He was over by that palm tree,
searching for something...or someone. A pit arose in Sydney’s stomach. She
attempted to call out to Vaughn, to ask him to come back, but all sound had
ceased to flow. The pit gave a swift lurch when Sydney saw the what monopolized
Vaughn’s attention. Lauren was walking down the beach, away from them.
Suddenly, he broke into a run after her. Sydney tried to struggle to her feet, but
to no avail. Her body simply wouldn’t be moved. She watched in sorrow as
Vaughn’s silhouette moved farther down the beach, until he finally disappeared.
A single, silver tear slid down her cheek.
“He’s not worth it, Sydney Anne Bristow. Don’t you ever cry over the likes of
him,” said a smooth British voice. Without looking, she automatically knew who
was now sitting beside her.
“Sark, what are you doing here?”
“You are living a life not worth living.”
This was truly laughable. The guy who crawled out from under a rock was telling
her that her life was screwed up.
“Why don’t you just tell me all about it?” Did she really just say that?
“Do you really wish me to continue?” asked the voice.
The sun on the beach was so warm and delightful. All her worries were quickly
fading in its rays. Sark could insult her a thousand times over for all she cared.
Besides, his musical accent was delighting her ears.
“Please do.”
“What is most important above all?”
“My family and my friends.”
“Let’s start with your family then. Are you talking of your mother, who
manipulated you and tried to end your life? Or perhaps your father, who has
manipulated you as well, lying when he should be telling the truth? Maybe you
mean your sister, who is prophesied to either kill you or die by your hand?”
The sun wasn’t feeling so warm any more. In fact, dark clouds could be seen on
the horizon, slowly making their way toward the island.
“Stop, Sark, just stop.”
“And Vaughn. Do you actually think he will always be there for you?”
“I asked you to stop.”
“No, he won’t. Do you know why?”
“Stop right now before I–“
“Because Lauren has been seared into his memory. She will not fade. I assure
you of this fact.”
“Stop!”
Sydney opened her eyes and sat up, ready to deal with–
Her bedroom. She was back in her bedroom, Vaughn asleep next to her.
The next day, the dream, more like nightmare, occupied her thoughts. Could it
be? Was she really so blind? Did she actually think Vaughn would suddenly be rid
of his memories of Lauren? Sydney supposed the truth had stared her in the face
every day for the last month. Her father. Twenty years after his wife’s betrayal
and he still needed closure. Would that happen to Vaughn?
“–other than Espinosa, Sydney?”
She mentally snapped back into focus. Everyone was looking at her. She thought
she might be having another nightmare. Sydney examined herself for a split
second. She wasn’t naked. This must be reality.
Her head really needed to get back in the game. “Could you repeat that, please?”
Kendall looked slightly taken aback. “I asked if you recognized anyone other than
Espinosa?”
“No.” A thought came to her mind. “Did Sark?”
Sark looked at her with an odd expression on his face. In fact, all of them were
looking at her with an odd expression. She pinched herself to verify that she was
really awake.
“Syd, are you ok?” asked Marshall.
“I...I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“It seems, Agent Bristow, that while I was detailing the events of France, you
dozed off.” Blue eyes smirked at her from across the room.
“I did not doze off! I was merely...thinking of what Espinosa might do next.”
Sloane walked over and patted her shoulder. “As we all are, Sydney. Now,
according to our intel, Espinosa currently has her main base of operations here,” a
photo of a nightclub flashed onto the screens, “in Madrid, Spain.”
“What is she doing there?” asked Weiss.
“That is exactly what the APO needs to find out. Since we have the Mona Lisa, the
ampule is our secondary concern.. Rambaldi artifacts have been around for
centuries; they can wait a few more days.”
Did Sloane actually just say that? Sydney was more than amazed, but her gut still
told her that he was up to something fiendish.
“Why a nightclub?” piped in Marshall.
Sydney replied, “It’s her style.”
“It’s an ordinary nightclub?” Her voiced was laced with disbelief. “I don’t have to
wear a leather corset, carry a whip, or smear my face with more than an ounce of
make-up?”
Marshall nodded happily.
“What’s the catch?”
“No...catch. Well, there may be one ‘catch’ so to speak, but it’s really not all that
impor–“
“Marshall?”
He grimaced.
“It’s an asphyxiation club.”
“People strangle each other?”
“According to popular belief, the lack of oxygen...enhances the sexual bond
between the strangler and his victim.” Sark didn’t go into detail.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Well, Sydney, we all have certain...proclivities.” Smirk.
At that moment, Vaughn walked up to the strategizing trio and said, “Sydney,
could I speak to you for a second?”
She nodded in agreement. Back into the same vacant room as before.
“I...”
“What is it, Vaughn?” she asked, her heart hoping beyond hopes that he was
finally going to share his thoughts and feelings with her. That he did, but not
about what she expected.
“I don’t want you going on this mission. Have Nadia go instead.”
Sydney was perplexed. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re going to a...you’re going to a sex club with Sark. I don’t think I
can handle that.”
She sighed in irritation.
“I’ve already explained this to you. Dad told me that Sark would be my
responsibility. I am supposed to keep my eye on him.”
“But you never told me why.” Vaughn retorted angrily. “Why you? Why not Dixon
or Nadia? Why you?”
Sydney took a deep breath.
“Kendall believes that Sark has a certain...respect for me.”
“Respect? What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, Vaughn, but Sark doesn’t seem to be particularly determined to kill
me. And I, for one, am going to use that to my advantage.”
A hard light entered Vaughn’s eyes.
“Don’t do this, Sydney.”
“Vaughn, you’re being irrational. We can use this.”
Unfortunately for her, his mind was made up.
“If you go on that mission, we’re through.”
He left without looking back. Perhaps Sydney should have felt dismal by this
announcement, but just at the moment, she wanted mostly to claw his eyes out.
Casa del Diablo. House of the Devil. What a fitting name. Sydney looked
around. People were everywhere. Many were against the walls, in order to get
better leverage. Others were in the middle of the dance floor, though few seemed
to be dancing, at least from what she could tell. There seemed be a great deal
of...writhing going on. The people with more normal tastes were in between,
clustered around the bar, sipping alcoholic beverages and making small talk. Who
the heck went to a bar without the intention of getting laid anyway?
Sydney just wanted to get in and get out. Their mission was to access Espinosa’s
personal files and copy everything available. The files were on a server, and the
server was below the nightclub. Kendall did not want Espinosa apprehended. His
orders were strict on that matter. He wanted to see which direction the Covenant
was heading and Anna was going to lead the way.
“Why don’t you distract the guards while I pop downstairs?” suggested Sark.
Sydney considered the guards. “I have a better idea. You distract the guards and
I’ll pop downstairs. They wouldn’t be interested in me anyway.”
He immediately grasped her meaning and arched a blonde eyebrow. “Indeed?
How very convenient for you.”
“I like to think so.” With that, the faux redhead was gone.
Sark sauntered up to the two guards in front of the stairs.
“¿Habla usted inglés?”
Both men looked at him, but only one nodded.
“So,” Sark put his hands in his pockets, “You frequent this joint much?”
After a second, the guard that nodded laughed and put his arm around Sark.
“My name is Emilio and this is Gregorio. American are you?”
The blonde man nodded nervously.
Gregorio commented to his partner, “El chico es mono.”
Emilio laughed again. “And just how recently did you, how do you Americans put
it, come out of the closet?”
Sydney couldn’t help but quietly laugh as she made her way down the stairs.
Reaching the bottom, she rounded a corner and smacked into two guards.
Luckily, the moderately loud music upstairs covered their grunts and groans as
she skillfully proceeded to knock them unconscious. Sydney speedily found the
server room, extracted a small chip from the heel of her shoe, plugged it in, and
pressed a few buttons on the keyboard. “Download started, I’ll need five
minutes,” she whispered into her com.
Upstairs, Sark didn’t react to the sudden voice in his ear. He simply said, “Can I
buy you gentlemen a drink?”
Emilio smiled, his arm still around Sark. “No, I am afraid not, my friend, we are
on guard duty.”
“Guard duty?” Sark asked, looking confused. “Now what could you possibly be
guarding in a place like this?”
Emilio moved his head closer to Sark and whispered in his ear, “A very big, and
very dangerous secret.”
Julian turned his head. “And what secret is that?”
Emilio’s face was so close, he half expected to be kissed. In fact, Emilio was in
the process of closing the distance when an alarm went off somewhere
downstairs. The Spanish man snapped his head up at the sound. “Stay here, do
not follow us,” he said to Sark and ran down the stairs after Gregorio.
Sydney, on the other hand, wasn’t fairing so well. The chip had almost completed
downloading the data when the alarm went off. She had no idea why, but grabbed
the chip and ran for the stairwell. Five guards suddenly appeared from out of
nowhere. Whirling, her feet knocked down three, but the other two were drawing
their guns. Not wanting to deal with getting shot, Sydney flew down the corridor
and up the stairs so quickly that Gregorio and Emilio had no chance to stop her.
She grabbed Sark by his jacket as she ran by him and literally towed him toward
the entrance. Four armed guards were headed their way. Stopping short, the two
spies looked back. Emilio, Gregorio and the remaining three guards were just
appearing. Without warning, Sark grabbed Sydney and fell to the carpeted floor.
He whispered in her ear, “Make it look convincing.” Her hands automatically went
to his neck in a choke hold, while her lips found an ear to nibble on. “Maybe not
quite so convincing,” gasped Sark. She loosened her grip just a little while her
mouth continued its work. His hands moved to grasp her sides. “I don’t see an
exit besides the front door and the stairs,” she said softly into his ear.
“First things first, we can’t let Gregorio or Emilio recognize me with you, I’m
supposed to be gay after all.”
Her lips moved up to his so her long red hair sheltered his face on both sides.
Inspired by the sudden change of pace, Sark’s hands moved up a little farther.
Sydney positioned a knee between his legs in warning. Her faced lifted from
his. “Merlin, the entrance is blocked. Is there any way out downstairs?”
Emilio and another guard walked very near the two spies.
“Um...no. The place is sealed tighter than my grandmother’s sock drawer,” replied
Marshall.
felgercarb.
Suddenly, her concentration was broken as she felt Sark’s lips on her neck. They
moved slowly, devouring her skin, making her heart pound. Unconsciously, her
hands let go of his neck and moved to his stomach. Her fingers traced every line,
every hollow of his physique. His lips teasingly traveled south, making her gasp
lightly. She just wanted him to–
What in the heck?
“Sark,” Sydney whispered loudly, “Stop.” She pressed her knee down and her
hands went back up to his throat.
He ceased his explorations.
“I am trying to get us out of here alive.”
Sark looked up at her. “And what do you propose?”
She looked back down at him. “Why don’t we use our newfound talents.”
“Emilio!”
He turned to find the blonde man running toward him.
“I told you to stay put. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Sark put on his best pained look. “But I saw that woman who ran up the stairs
before you.”
Emilio was instantly focused on him. “Where?”
“She ran back down the stairs.” Sark pointed.
Emilio said something unintelligible into his walkie talkie.
He leaned over and kissed Sark on the cheek. “Thank you, American.” Then all
but two guards rushed for the stairs.
Sydney appeared beside him. “Let’s go,” she said with a smirk.
The plane’s engine ran smoothly, its steady rhythm cleared her head and began
steadying her pulse. Even an hour after escaping the club, adrenaline was still
pumping through her veins. Outside, the clouds drifted by like large puffs of
cotton candy. Sydney looked over at Sark. He sat across from her, staring out
the window. With no expression, he looked so young, so vulnerable. Vulnerable
her foot.
“How’s your shoulder?” Her voice dripped like honey and was as sweet as sugar.
Sark looked at her in surprise. “It’s splendid. Thank you for your concern.”
She acknowledged this with a nod, then pretended to be gazing out the window
herself. Not a very engaging pastime though, for the scene below was a familiar
one. Large, blue, and water were the only words left to describe it. Well, black
right then, since it was still nighttime after all.
“Although,” Sark continued, “that little spill we took at the club did knock it about
some. I should probably have it checked when we get back.”
Perfect. He had taken the bait already.
“Speaking of the little spill, exactly what was that about anyway?”
He looked at her in feigned innocence. “Really, Sydney, I would think someone
with your IQ would have understood my trying to save our lives.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Don’t try to bluff your way out of this one, Sark. If you EVER try something like
that again, I will thrash you to within an inch of your life. Do you understand?”
“I understand your threat completely, Sydney; but if you didn’t enjoy it, then why,
might I ask, did you respond in kind? Perhaps I should be asking you to refrain
as well.” Smirk.
Her fist rolled into a ball.
“Go suck on an egg, Sark.” was the first thing that came to her mind. Wha–?? A
mental head slap was definitely required for that.
“Excuse me?”
Well, she’d better go with it, otherwise a fool she would appear.
“You heard me.”
“I certainly heard you, but what kind of a retort was that?”
“That was my kind of a retort, so I repeat, go suck on an egg.”
“Well, in response, there are other things I would enjoy sucking on much more
than an egg.”
Sark was at the end of his string, and he knew it. But for some reason, his
inhibitions were nowhere to be found.
“Would you like me to list them for you?”
Sydney jumped up. “No, I would NOT like you to list them for me. In fact, I
would NOT like for you to talk at all!”
Before he could move, Sydney had grabbed a pair of handcuffs from her carry-
on, and latched Sark to the chair by his left wrist. Another pair of handcuffs for his
other wrist followed, though where she found them he knew not. Four seconds
after that, the duct tape had been removed from a nearby cupboard and attached
to his face.
With a look of extreme satisfaction, Sydney sat back down across from him.
The next meeting was strangely awkward. Vaughn ignored Sydney, Sydney was
mad at Sark, and Sark wanted to kill the whole world, mostly because everyone
at the APO was secretly discussing his escapade.
“Good work,” Kendall said. “Especially you, Sark. Sydney detailed in her report
how you,” a small smile played upon his face, “saved both her life and yours.”
Sark was not amused.
Title: Of Men and Spies
Author: JBgirl (Julie)
Rating: So far PG, but it may become R-ish.
Summary: Because I am OBSESSED with the new season four, this is supposed to be just after episode 2 even though I know that Sark and Anna don't come back til episode 8-ish.
A dark-haired head popped around the corner of the open doorway.
“Sydney, we need you in Sloane’s office.”
The woman behind the desk looked up and smiled.
“I’ll be right there, Nadia.”
Quickly, Sydney Bristow gathered the many assorted files scattered willy-nilly on
her modern-looking desk. One of the files accidentally slipped from her fingers
and landed like an open book on the floor. A large photograph graced the page
as if it were a graphical title. The framed dirty-dishwater blonde stared back at
her with the hint of an inexplicable smirk. Sark. Grabbing the file, Sydney
slammed it shut and unceremoniously placed it with the others in the cabinet. As
much as he annoyed her in the flesh, he was not going to do the same with a
simple picture. Just two days before, Agent Kendall stopped by out-of-the-blue.
As startled as she was, he apparently had clearance. The big red id card
monopolizing the left side of his standard black suit was evident enough. He had
gathered the team together–Sydney, Vaughn, Jack, Dixon, Nadia, Marshall,
Sloane, and the newly-acquired Weiss–and informed them that the Covenant was
back after a short hiatus. His had said his position in the very entangled web of
the black operations spy world was top secret, but they were to follow his orders.
He would temporarily have authority over all of the APO, even over their new boss.
The objective was to find out what the Covenant was up to. The APO didn’t have
an on-staff research team, so Sydney was given the assignment of researching
previous and current members. Unfortunately, Sark and Lauren were two of said
members. The thought still nagged at her that she should have known Lauren was
part of the Covenant, which, of course, didn’t make sense to anyone else. Heaving
a sigh, Sydney went to join the others in Sloane’s office.
“We have just learned that Erick Terenkov”, Kendall pushed a button and the
ugliest man in the world popped up on their monitors, “Covenant leader of the
European cell, has teamed up with Anna Espinosa,” he pushed another
button, “former K-Directorate, and enemy of the defunct SD-6. Agent Bristow will
update you on their activities. ”
Sydney spoke up immediately.
“Erick Terenkov, former KGB, now works for the Covenant and is rumored to
have ties with everyone from Hollywood director J.J. Abrams to Osama Bin
Laden. Anna Espinosa worked for K-Directorate before disappearing. She has
been assumed dead for over four years.”
Kendall nodded at her in brief thanks. “Apparently she’s not. According to our
intel, they are trying to put the last piece in the Rambaldi jig-saw puzzle.”
A mental groan went through Sydney Bristow’s brain.
“Of course,” Kendall went on, “we can’t allow for that to happen. So we’ve
arranged for Mr. Sark to supply us with a little information.”
In unison, Vaughn, Sydney, and Weiss questioned with a loud, “WHAT?”
“He’s not to be trusted,” impressed Sydney.
“He’s a freakin’ psycho killer,” prompted Weiss.
Vaughn simply looked down at the very white table and glowered, saying nothing.
Large wrinkles deepened in the skin above his brow.
“We had eggs,” said a confused Marshall with a shrug.
All eyes turned in his direction.
“Well, I...see...all of you left...it felt like a ghost town...he was a familiar face and–“
“Sydney, Vaughn, Nad–heck with it–EVERYONE, your mission is to break Sark
from the CIA facility in Los Angeles. Marshall has the specs and building plans.
You leave tonight.” With that, Kendall left the room.
Silence reigned throughout the room and the turning of wheels could almost be
heard, though Weiss’ seemed to be a mite squeaky.
“Why do we have to break him out?” asked a bewildered Weiss. “Why don’t we
just ask for him to be transferred?”
If Jack were a humorous person, he might have laughed. Unfortunately, he
wasn’t.
“Because we are a black ops division of the CIA.” He leaned toward Weiss. “We.
Don’t. Exist.”
“Ok, man, you’re scaring me.”
Five hours later, the team was on their way.
The van was quiet. Everyone was keeping busy–Sydney being mad at Jack,
Vaughn being his usual somber self, Dixon driving, Marshall working on the
computer, and Weiss making eyes at Nadia. Sloane stayed at headquarters to
supervise. Unexpectedly, Jack’s cell phone chirped. After a minute he closed the
phone and looked up.
“That was Kendall. Change of plans. Sark is being transferred to a more secure
location. We’re to intercept them and extract the prisoner just before they reach
their destination–CIA headquarters.” Dixon turned the wheel and the van spun in
a complete 180. Then Jack answered the unasked question.
“It seems the higher-ups wanted to keep Sark for themselves and in doing so
conspired against Kendall.”
Everyone put on their coms as the elder Bristow gave them what details he had
and passed the intel onto Sloane. Vaughn immediately began giving interrogative
orders. “Marshall, can you use satellite imagery to track the transport?
“I...just a sec...have to check...”
“Well, can you or not?”
“Vaughn!” Sydney scolded. “Please, stop haranguing Marshall. He’s doing the
best he can, just as we all are.”
Vaughn looked mutinous, but refrained from saying more.
Dixon signaled to everyone. “Jack, I see a vehicle up ahead matching the
description you gave me. Do you want me to pursue?” Jack climbed into the
passengers seat. “Marshall, do you have anything on the radar?”
“No. The spectrum is too broad. Every car, truck, and van looks the same.” CIA
headquarters was less than a mile away.
Sydney and her father exchanged looks as if to confirm what they were both
thinking.
“Do it.”
The vans tires squealed as it shot past the transport. A quick turn of the wheel
and the target automobile was dead in the water.
Both teams jumped out at the same time. Chaos ensued as the APO team tried to
tranquilize the guards as quickly as possible. Everyone was shouting to be heard
over the short spats of gunfire the CIA sentinels managed to get off.
Only Jack’s voice could be heard over the com. “They must have been expecting
us! There are too many of them! Phoenix, extract the target and retreat! We’ll
hold them off!”
Sydney whirled to the back of the transport and wrenched open the door. Waiting
inside were four armed guards and Sark. Skillfully putting a dart in each guard’s
neck, she grabbed the manacled blonde by his arm and dragged him into the
nearest alley.
Julian Lazarey looked astounded. “Sydney Bristow?” His trademark smirk crept
onto his face. “I don’t believe it. You, a CIA operative, are breaking me–“
Sydney slammed him against the dank cement wall, hissed “Shut up, Sark,” and
deftly shot him in the foot.
He slumped to the floor. Hurriedly she grabbed a handful of unidentifiable grime
and ran it through his curly locks and over his face. Taking out her knife, she
used the toothed edge to cut ragged holes in his prison coveralls. More dirt
followed soon after. Without warning, Sark’s body involuntarily shivered. Los
Angeles nights were chilly during the month of December. Sydney could feel his
warm skin through his shirt as she dragged him across the alley and laid him
against a dumpster. She covered him with all the trash and garbage she could
find. Her foot accidentally kicked a hidden stack of mostly empty beer bottles
over with a loud CRASH!
felgercarb.
Being the queen of improvisation, Sydney
grabbed an unbroken bottle with some liquid still in it and doused Sark with the
remaining contents.. Out on the road, a vehicle could be heard racing away while
a voice shouted, “They went this way! Through the alley!” With amazing agility,
Sydney scrambled into the dumpster and shut the lid with not a second to spare.
Men rushed down the alley, pointing their guns this way and that.
“There’s somebody over here!” cried one of the younger soldiers. The captain of
the guard rushed over to look.
“It’s just a tramp.” He leaned down and sniffed. “A drunk tramp at that. Watch
this.” The leader delivered a swift kick to the small of Sark’s back. A low groan
reached the men’s ears as they laughed at his misery.
“Alright, men, keep searching. They can’t have gone far. Rigby, take a look in
that dumpster!”
A broad, heavily-muscled man lifted one of the lids just enough to peep in. The
smell that permeated the air made his stomach lurch.
“Sir, I think something died in there!”
The captain wasn’t about to sample anything that smelled of rotting flesh, not even
oxygen. He took a few steps farther from the dumpster.
“Probably a dead rat. Continue on.”
When the last shuffling of feet could no longer be heard, Sydney peeked out of the
large receptacle. Seeing the coast was clear, she jumped out and bent over,
promptly donating her supper to the rats. Putting a shaky hand to her mouth, the
young spy attempted to calm her raging heaves. A minute later, two shadowy
figures, one physically supporting the other, exited the alleyway.
Breathing heavily into the handset of the pay phone, she considered her choices,
came up with one decision, and dialed the number.
“Bristow.”
“Dad, it’s me.”
“Sydney, where are you?
“I have Sark and we’re headed to Baldur’s Gate.”
“We’re on our way. ETA twenty minutes.”
Baldur’s Gate was the codename for a disco club nearby. Good spies always hid
things in plain site. Now they were going to hide in plain site. Well, at least in
public. As Sydney opened the side door, Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive blasted
through her ear drums. How fitting. Towing the still-sluggish and shackled Sark
along, the exhausted woman dropped them both into chairs in the darkest corner
of the flashing room. Strange, the ball was slowly dropping. Oh yes, it was New
Year’s eve, wasn’t it? A disco New Year’s eve party. There wasn’t any place she’d
rather be.
People avoided them like the plague. Sydney attributed it to the extreme stench
that seemingly rolled off her. Sark merely reeked of alcohol, though he looked
much the worse for wear. A few minutes later Nadia walked through the
doorway. As they carried Sark outside, Nadia asked her sister, “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
The door of the nondescript van opened just as they reached it.
“What is that awful smell? And what in the world did you do to Sark?” asked
Weiss.
Sydney leaned back in her seat as she went on to explain the events of the
evening..
“Oh, and Marshall, I don’t think this wetsuit is completely waterproof.”
“It should be. I tested it completely before the mission.”
“Ketchup must not be made of water then. At least, I think it’s ketchup.”
Everyone but Dixon stared at her in horror. She laughed.
“Guys, it’s ok,” Sydney looked over and grinned at Nadia, “At least we didn’t have
to crawl through those sewer pipes.”
Sark awoke almost immediately after Jack injected him with the antidote to the
tranquilizer. He found himself strapped into a chair in a small room. Sydney
stood nearby.
The smirk returned instantly.
“I must say, I am quite surprised by your actions. I didn’t know you cared so
much.”
“We were simply transferring you from one cell to another,” countered a rather
irked Sydney.
Sark started as he saw his reflection in the observation window. “My God,
Sydney, what did you do to me?”
Sydney assumed her most menacing look and said coldly, “You will address me as
Agent Bristow.”
“You obviously aren’t an agent any more, Sydney, if that last escapade meant
what I think it does. By the way, what is that awful stench?”
Again the look. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Sark, and don’t call me Sydney.”
Behind her, the door opened. Kendall and Sloane walked in.
Sark’s eyebrows rose just a little. “My, isn’t this day just full of surprises.”
“Jack, Sydney. Good work out there,” Sloane commented.
Sydney glared back.
“We’d like a few minutes with Mr. Sark,” said Kendall, though it was definitely
more of an order than a statement.
“What? Why can’t we stay?” Sydney’s night was definitely not getting any better.
“Why don’t you two go home and get some rest. We’ll let you know if we find out
anything,” assured Sloane.
Reluctantly, Jack and Sydney stood up to leave.
For some reason they weren’t very convinced by Sloane’s assurances.
Early the next morning, Sydney stepped out of the shower and put on her
bathrobe. She had to stifle a scream after looking into the mirror. There was
STILL garbage in her hair after three washings. Opening the door, the perturbed
woman stomped into the living room.
“Nadia, could you help me? I can’t get these pieces of trash out of my hair.”
Her sister smiled and took the comb from her. As Nadia attempted to untangle
the snarls caused by the unknown objects, she asked, “Is Vaughn coming over
tonight?”
“He should be.”
“What does that mean?”
Sydney sighed.
“I don’t know. I just don’t know. Vaughn wouldn’t talk to me last night. When I
asked what was bothering him, he mumbled something about Sark and walked
away.” She turned and looked at Nadia.
“He hasn’t forgotten about Lauren.”
“Dad, have they found out anything?”
“I don’t know, Sydney. I’m not privy to any intel pertaining to Sark.”
“But it’s been two days! Surely Sloane told you e truth?”
“I have already told her the truth that she needs to hear.”
“It’s not the same, and you know it.”
“Perhaps not, but I would rather have her remember Irina in a positive light,
wouldn’t you?”
He turned and walked away.
An hour later, Sydney walked into Sloane’s office for a recently scheduled
meeting. There stood Sark, practically gleaming in a black suit that contrasted
sharply with the white backdrop of the office. Their eyes locked. Brown versus
blue in a battle of wills.
“Agent Bristow, you may take a seat,” Kendall interrupted their small war and
gestured in the direction of the other attendees. Everyone was there except for
Marshall. Just at that moment, Marshall burst into the room.
“Oh, Syd, I’m glad I caught up with you. I wanted to give you these files before
the meeting star–“ Marshall’s eyes located the person directly behind Sydney. His
eyes widened enormously as he stepped closer to her and attempted to whisper
indiscreetly, “Syd, Sark is here.”
“We know.”
Marshall opened his mouth as if to say something, stopped, closed his mouth, and
gave Sydney the folders he was holding.
“Hello...again,” Marshall looked ready to turn tail and run.
Sark nodded ever so slightly,“The pleasure is all mine, Agent Flinkman.”
At a loss for words, Marshall scurried over to the couch and sat down. Sydney
followed at a much slower pace.
Sloane cleared his throat.
“Kendall and I have finished our negotiations with Mr. Sark and we have come to
an agreement. In exchange for his freedom, Mr. Sark will help us in any way that
he can. Please welcome him to the team.”
As expected, everyone was quite stunned by the highly unusual news. Sydney
spoke first.
“Unbelievable.”
“I assure you, Ms. Bristow,” said a very cool Sark, “it is all quite believable. I
have information that would take the CIA years to discover, and because of that, I
am a valued commodity in your world.”
“What information might that be?”
Sark grinned. “Now, Ms. Bristow, like your mother, the information I have is on a
need-to-know basis. Otherwise, I’d lose my value.”
Vaughn spoke up, “Agent Kendall, a word?”
Kendall seemed to contemplate this for a second, then nodded at Sark and
Sloane. They both left the room.
“I thought you might have some objections.”
“Objections? I have no objections,” said a seething Vaughn, “I have only one
question. Why aren’t we beating the information out of this bastard? We've
practically invited him to play triple-agent for the Covenant.”
“That, Agent Vaughn, is not your concern.” said Kendall sternly. “Instead, you
should be concerned about Erick Terenkov and Anna Espinosa. Sydney, please
update Agent Sark on the situation at hand and get all the information you can out
of him. In the meantime I want everyone else to keep a sharp eye out. This
meeting is over.”
Vaughn pulled Sydney into a vacant room as soon as she stepped out of Sloane’s
office.
“You aren’t going to accept this are you?”
“Accept, no, but I will sap Sark for all he’s worth, and then throw him back in a
cell where he belongs. If I have to manipulate the devil to catch two demons, so
be it.”
“I can’t handle this. This situation is just too insane and preposterous.”
“Does this have anything to do with Lauren?”
Vaughn looked at her with his usual expression of sorrow, but didn’t say anything.
Sydney was getting irritated. In fact, she was still a little mad about the way he
ignored her after the last mission.
“Don’t worry about me; I can handle myself. We’ll talk about this later. I have a
meeting with Sark.”
She turned and left.
It took Sydney less than five minutes to update Sark on the information the APO
had so far.
“Erick Terenkov and Anna Espinosa have combined forces. We believe their
objective is to solve the Rambaldi mystery. We don’t know what artifacts they
have uncovered, if there are any at all, or what they are searching for. Do you
know anything about this?”
Julian studied her face for a moment.
“Before we start in on this extremely complicated matter, I would just like to say I
am overjoyed to be your coworker once more. I said once before that we were
destined to work togther; I still truly believe that.”
She eyed him suspiciously.
“Sark, let’s clear one thing up here and now. There is no ‘working together’. We
are only talking because you have information that I need. Remember that.”
The man in question narrowed his eyes.
“And you, Sydney, would do well to remember that you need me. In case your
boyfriend happens to forget while we are in the field.”
It was her turn to narrow her eyes.
“Don’t push me, Sark. With the exception of your jaw, I will gladly break every
bone in your body.”
He arched an eyebrow.
“What would stay your hand from breaking my jaw?”
“Kendall wants you to remain intelligible.”
Julian leaned back in his chair and smirked.
“Well, then, let’s get to it.”
“We have to what?” demanded Dixon.
Sydney repeated herself, “We have to steal the Mona Lisa.”
Jack took over from there.
“According to Sark’s intel, Leonardo da Vinci was not only a rumored member of
the Illuminati, but also a Rambaldi follower. Apparently, da Vinci encoded a
message on the back of the painting. Like the forty-seventh page of Rambaldi’s
journal, the message can only be revealed using a special liquid substance.
Unfortunately, Espinosa recently acquired the liquid, though we don’t know what
kind of container it is stored in. Terenkov and Espinosa plan to steal the painting
as it’s being transferred to be restored in less than twenty-four hours.”
Kendall nodded at Marshall.
Marshall stood up and cleared his throat.
“Hello everyone. How are we doing today? Good. Did anyone catch that Roy
Rogers’ western last night? It was really good. I used my nifty TIVO to record
it...in case any of you might want–sorry Mr. Kendall and Mr. Sloane. You know,
that’s kind of weird there are two of you, I really don’t know which one to–oh
right.” Marshall pushed a button. On the screens a map of the Louvre
appeared. “Here is where you’ll enter. The restoration facility is located within
the building so–“
“Weiss, can I have a word?”
He looked up from his cluttered desk.
“Sure, Sydney, let’s go in there.”
They entered the same vacant room Vaughn had pulled her into earlier.
“What’s up?” He asked, looking boyishly adorable.
Sydney looked down at the ground for a moment.
“Has Vaughn...spoken to you?”
“About what?”
Sydney looked into this eyes.
“About Lauren.”
Weiss immediately knew something wasn’t quite right.
“No, Syd, he hasn’t talked to me about it. What is it? Did he say something to
you?”
She could feel the tears forming in her eyes.
“No, that’s just it. He won’t talk to me. He’s put up a wall, closed himself off, and
I don’t know what to do about it.”
Weiss pulled her into a hug.
“Don’t cry. It will all work out. Just give him some time.”
“He doesn’t need time. He needs closure. I thought killing Lauren might have
given him that.”
Weiss sighed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Sydney, but–“
“I am interrupting something?” Sark leaned against the wall nonchalantly.
“No,” Sydney said angrily, “we were just leaving.” Glaring at Sark, she stalked
from the room.
“What’s to keep Sark from escaping the moment he gets a chance?” a concerned
Jack questioned Kendall. “An opportunity is sure to present itself quite quickly if
you insist on letting him go into the field.”
“We believe Sark is a not triple-agent for the Covenant, but, instead, is working
for himself. He needs us to achieve whatever purpose he’s after. As is the case
with Sloane, we’d rather be able to keep an eye on him.”
“My daughter’s eye, I’ve gathered.”
Kendall looked him.
“Like it or not, Jack, Sark wants your daughter to stay alive. According to her
reports, he has had numerous chances to end her life, but plainly hasn’t taken the
initiative to do so.”
“That may be, but what if he changes his mind?”
“Then Sydney will do what she has to. She’s a big girl, Jack. Your daughter can
take care of herself.”
A shadowy figured appeared out of the night and crept to the side door of a large
building. Seconds later another shadow followed. The first shadow grabbed the
small pouch hung on her belt.
“Merlin, are you sure about this?”
“Definitely, Phoenix, the security is on the inside. They don’t care if you get in,
but most likely you won’t be getting out.” A beat of silence. “Unnnless you have
me that is.”
“Thank you for that assurance,” said a very sarcastic British voice.
“Sorry,”squeaked Marshall, “Don’t kill me.”
Sydney quickly picked the lock, turned the handle, and the two hurried inside.
Swiftly moving down the hallway, they soon reached the desired room.
“I don’t see the painting. I don’t see any paintings.”
“Anna must have gotten here first.”
“Why would she take all of them? And how did she–“ Sydney sniffed the air. “Do
you smell that?”
Sark lifted his nose and took a deep breath. “Paint. This room is being
renovated.”
Sydney took a deep breath for other reasons.
“Merlin, the Mona Lisa isn’t here. The room is being renovated. Can you find the
current location?”
The sound of typing could be heard over their coms.
“It’s been temporarily moved to room thirteen in the southwest wing and is
awaiting the morning transfer to restoration.”
Room thirteen was so small that it held but one painting. The Mona Lisa. Sydney
could only stare. Though she had seen the painting dozens of times, just at that
moment, the small smile seemed so familiar. So small was the smile, in fact, that
it could have been a...smirk. Sydney turned her head and carefully regarded
Sark. Sark’s blue eyes considered her as well. After a few moments, he cocked
his head to the side and asked, “Is there a problem?”
Her thoughts interrupted, Sydney shook her head. “No, no there isn’t.” She
spoke into her com, “Merlin, is everything ready?”
“Blocking alarm frequency now,” came the voice in her ear, “You have three
minutes before systems are back online.”
Sark opened two very large knives and gave one to Sydney. As he cut inside the
top and right edges of the frame, she took the left and the bottom. As bad as she
felt about potentially defacing a famous work of art, there was no way they could
have carried the heavy frame around without getting caught. When the alarm
sounded two minutes later, the guards found the room completely empty.
Sydney and Sark climbed into the van in which Nadia and Weiss were waiting.
Marshall and Vaughn were in another van nearby. Dixon and Jack were currently
on assignment in Nepal with Sloane supervising.
“Let’s boogey,” Weiss said as he winked at Nadia. She smiled back. Sydney
couldn’t help but smile herself. Sark remained impassive, though his blue eyes
were clearly assessing the pair.
“Your mother didn’t tell me much about you, Nadia.”
Nadia turned and leveled her gaze at him.
“Is that so?”
“Yes,” continued Sark, “in fact, I quite by accident stumbled upon the knowledge
of your existence. I overheard Irina talking on the phone. She mentioned ‘her
daughter Nadia’ and ‘the passenger’. I was intrigued to say the least.”
“And are you disappointed with what you found?” asked Nadia.
“On the contrary, I am even more intrigued.”
Sydney was about to tell Sark to shut his mouth when, without warning, blue and
red lights could be seen flashing in the reflection of the side mirrors as the sound
of a siren crept closer.
“How in the heck did they spot us?” demanded a very perplexed Weiss. Already
three police cars were following them.
Eric sped up in an attempt to lose the three tails. Unfortunately, two more cars
joined the procession. Six streets and two alleys later, Weiss made a decision.
“We can’t outrun them in this. We’re going to have to split up.”
Nadia nodded in agreement. “Sydney, Eric and I will head west, you take Sark
and go east. Keep the painting with you. We’ll meet at the extraction point in six
hours.” She quickly repeated the plan over her com. Dixon and the others
agreed to keep a surveillance on the Louvre in hopes of espying Espinosa.
With a last turn of the wheel, Weiss pulled onto a broad street and slammed on
the brakes. The van squealed to a grinding halt. The four people flew out of the
van and slipped away into the darkness of the starless night.
Sydney stopped running in order to catch her breath. Sark was but a moment
behind. He slowed and followed her lead. They both were breathing hard and
sweating profusely.
“I think,” Sydney gasped, “we lost them.”
They both collapsed against the side of a building. Sark leaned his head back and
half-closed his eyes.
“After fifteen miles of running, I would hope so.”
Silence prevailed and the only thing to be heard was their ragged breathing.
After a few minutes, Sydney stood up and said, “There’s a safe house a few miles
from here. We’ll take cover there until it’s time to meet at the extraction point.”
Sark nodded and stood up, but before he could move any further, a figure pinned
him to the wall while another figure tackled Sydney. Faster than lightning, they
both had their attackers on the ground moaning, when another wave struck. This
time there were three thugs for them each. As valiantly as they fought, sheer
numbers overcame their efforts. Both were held in place.
“It seems you have something of mine, Sydney,” came a woman’s voice from the
shadows.
Sydney knew that voice. Anna Espinosa. No sooner had the thought come to her
mind, when the woman herself stepped into the faint morning light.
“I would be most pleased if you would hand over the painting, now.”
“I would, but I just can’t. Neither my arms nor my hands seem to be functional
right now.” If looks could kill, Anna would have been frozen solid.
Espinosa chillingly smiled back. “I guess I’ll just have to take it.”
She moved closer, but just before capturing the Mona Lisa from Sydney’s person,
Anna noticed Sark. Her fingers outstretched in mid-air, she stopped to examine
the lean curly-headed blonde.
“Sark?” The imposing woman moved toward him.
He nodded in greeting. “Anna.”
“You two know each other?” Sydney asked incredulously.
Anna gave her a critical once over. “This your new girlfriend, Sark? I would have
thought you had better taste.” Her hand moved as if to caress his face, but
ceased halfway.
“I supposed it doesn’t matter anyway.” She walked over and plucked the
protective case from under Sydney’s arm. “I have what I want.” Pointing to two
of her hired help, she said, “You. Kill them.” With that, Anna Espinosa was gone.
The thugs forced them both to kneel and put pistols to the back of their heads.
Sydney looked at Sark, down to her knees, then back up. His eyes flickered with
understanding.
“Say goodbye,” one of the thugs growled.
With lightning reflexes, the two spies moved in unison, swinging their legs around
and knocking the two men to the ground. Grabbing the dropped guns, Sydney
and Sark took off running down the alley.
Rounding the corner, they ran headlong into a third man, who appeared to be
guarding the alley entrance. Sydney attempted to kick the gun from his hand, but
he blocked it with his arm. The thug didn’t even take the time to aim after that,
he simply pulled the trigger.
Time slowed to a crawl for the spy duo. The man’s index finger began to bend
slowly, ready to finish the deadly task. As the younger Bristow struggled to
remove herself from death’s path, Sark jumped in front of her and emptied the
chamber of his gun into the shooter. The dying man staggered backwards,
shooting bullets wildy at random. Unluckily, a rogue bullet found it’s mark and
pierced Sark’s flesh. The momentum of the projectile pushed him backwards into
Sydney and they both fell to the cement floor. A rivulet of blood ran down the
length of his arm and began to fall in small droplets from the tips of his fingers.
“Sark, where were you hit?” Sydney asked as she pushed the wounded man to
his feet.
He winced in pain. “I can suddenly feel my left shoulder all too clearly, so I
assume that would be the spot.”
Carefully, Sydney cut a hole in his form-fitting black turtleneck and sighed in relief
at the results of her investigation.
“Just a flesh wound.”
Sark winced once more as she tore his left sleeve off and fashioned a makeshift
bandage.
“That should hold you until we reach the safe house. Do you think you can make
it?” There was no compassion in her voice. No concern was etched on her face.
It was a devilish challenge, plain as day.
Sark couldn’t help but stare. He had just saved her life and there she was,
treating him like dirt once more. What an ungrateful—an ice-cold raindrop landed
on his ear. Seconds later the skies opened and poured out their vengeance on
Paris.
“Let’s go.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him along.
The safe house was small, box-like, and it looked just like every other place of
dwelling in the surrounding area. The wonders of Suburbia.
After checking every room and securing the perimeter, Sydney retrieved a
medical kit from under the kitchen sink.
“Take off your shirt and sit down,” she said while selecting specific items from the
white box.
Sark complied without so much as a peep, though wincing was quickly becoming
his least favorite expression.
Using a wet cloth to clear away some of the blood, Sydney made a more thorough
inspection of the wound.
“The bullet grazed the top of your left shoulder. Looks like it went completely
through. This will just need a few stitches.”
As soon as she was through closing up the wound, Sark looked her in the eyes
and said, “Thank you.” Their faces were but a few inches apart.
Uncomfortable with his sudden nearness, Sydney stepped back and said, “Kendall
would be angry if you died because of me,” as if trying to condone her recent
actions.
Sark stood up slowly. As he spoke next, a smirk began to form on his pale face.
“Once you get past your open hostility, Sydney, perhaps one day we could be
friends.”
She looked straight at him, eyes burning with fire and rage.
“Never. You ruined my life,” the harsh whisper came through clenched teeth.
“A life recently saved by yours truly.”
She visibly flinched at the reminder.
“Saving my life only means that one day I must return the favor. It doesn’t
require that I tolerate you any more than I already do.”
Sark closed his eyes, appearing to ponder her words. A moment later, the blue
orbs were unveiled once more.
“You believe I am responsible for the destruction your life? On the contrary, I
believe you are the one who ruined mine.”
Sydney Bristow’s willpower was stretched to the maximum.
“What? How do you justify that statement?”
“You killed not one, but two of the people I have loved. I’m sure you are in no
position to say the same.”
The tension between them could be felt, maybe even plucked, much like a taut
rubber band.
“What a cocky bastard you are, Sark. You deserved the misery, if in fact their
deaths caused you any pain at all.” She failed to point out that Will had actually
killed Alison. “I’ve had enough of this conversation, shallow as it is.” Grabbing a
shirt from the closet, Sydney tossed it in his direction.
“Get dressed, we meet at the extraction point in 3 hours.”
“What of the painting?” Sark asked as he carefully slipped on the shirt made of
Egyptian cotton. The CIA definitely kept the place well-stocked.
“What about the painting?”
“Perhaps you didn’t notice, but Anna Espinosa relieved us of that priceless burden.”
“Actually, I threw it away,” Sydney replied as she walked into the bedroom en
route the bathroom.
“You can’t be serious.“
The bedroom door was slammed in response.
After cooling down in a very relaxing bath, the dark-haired girl took time to mull
over the conversation. Nothing made sense anymore. How could Sark have
possibly accused her of ruining his life? After all, he chose this life. He knew the
dangers. Then again, so did she. Sydney tried to shake away that annoying
thought. Trying to clear her mind, she sunk deeper into the water. An hour later,
she decided to finally make her way out of the tub. Her hand reached for a towel,
but it wasn’t in its usual place. Sydney mentally smacked herself upside the
head. In her anger and rage, she had forgotten to grab one out of the drawer.
The only problem was...the drawer was empty. At this point, her options were
limited. Her clothes had been left forgotten outside the door. She had planned to
change into something from the bedroom closet, but wasn’t about to take the
chance of Sark walking in. Sydney decided to use her dirty clothes temporarily.
She grabbed the doorknob and...it fell off.
felgercarb.
The window was too small to climb out of, even if she was crazy enough to try in
her unclothed state.
felgercarb.
She could kick the door down and have Sark come rushing in to see what was up.
Wouldn’t that be lovely. Sydney paced the small bathroom for another hour,
trying to devise an ingenious way out of the mess, when a knock sounded at the
door.
“What?”
A muffled British voice drifted through the door. “We should be leaving if we are
going to arrive at the extraction point on time.”
“I know.” Sydney tried to sound gruff and irritated by the interruption.
Silence.
“Sydney, you aren’t stuck are you?”
Her mind raced. “Stuck? What do you mean stuck? I’m not stuck. Why would I
be stuck?”
A slight sigh wafted though the crack at the bottom of the door. “You’ve locked
yourself in the bathroom, haven’t you?”
Against her better judgement, the reply that issued from between her lips was a
defeated, “Yes.”
Another sigh, this time tinged with impatience.
“How exactly did you manage such a feat? The lock is on the inside.”
More silence.
“Sydney?”
Overcoming her pride, she calmly replied, “The doorknob fell off.”
Muffled laughter drifted to her ears.
Sydney said loudly, “You’re going to have to pick the lock and open the door from
that side...and bring a towel.”
“For what?”
“For me.”
The door opened a few minutes later. Sark was leaning sideways against the
frame, smirking.
“My, my, Agent Bristow, the fixes you get yourself into.”
“My towel?”
His right arm stretched out elegantly, towel in its hold.
Not about to show her embarrassment, she accepted the towel with grace and
covered herself, offering him a curt, “Thank you”, in return.
“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine.”
“It’s in there.” Sydney pointed at the dumpster.
“You concealed the Mona Lisa in a trash bin?”
“She’s in a protective case.”
“I may not possess the appreciation for the fine arts that I should, but, Sydney,
really, this is most appalling. Besides, didn’t Espinosa procure the case from
you?” questioned a curious, but slightly horrified Sark.
Sydney smiled triumphantly. “I brought two.”
It was good to be home. Espinosa was still at large, but at least she didn’t have
Sark’s Mom. That’s what Sydney had to taken to calling the Mona Lisa. If only he
knew. The thought made her smile mischievously.
“What’s that smile for?” asked Weiss. He was helping her cook dinner for Nadia
and Vaughn.
“I’m just happy to be home.”
“What? Didn’t you enjoy Paris, zee capital of love?” His French accent was
absolutely horrendous. She laughed hysterically at his antics for another fifteen
minutes. Just as Weiss was beginning to make her cry, the doorbell rang. A
breathless Sydney wiped the tears from her eyes and took a quick peek in the hall
mirror to make sure her make-up hadn’t run. Taking a deep breath, she opened
the door.
“Hey, guys, come on–Sark? What are you doing here?”
He certainly looked magnificent in his black Armani suit, and his black Armani tie,
and his black Armani overcoat. Even his hair was curled to perfection. Something
was up. Sydney could smell it in the air.
“A good evening to you as well, Sydney. I hope you have sufficiently recovered
from our eventful trip.”
Sydney’s cheeks attempted to turn a bright red. She willed them not to.
“What do you want, Sark?”
“I simply wanted to return these.” He held up a pair of lacy, black string bikini
underpants. “I found them mixed in with my own clothing.”
Sydney gasped. She had worn those on the day of the mission. Their absence
hadn’t been missed. Just as she reached to snatch them from Julian’s hands, an
angry voice growled, “What’s going on here?”
Vaughn. Standing on the porch. Watching Sark dangle Sydney’s sexy underpants
in front of her.
felgercarb.
Sark placed the object of everyone’s attention in her hands and smirked. “I was
just leaving.”
He practically danced down the walkway to his black Mercedes.
As soon as the perpetrator was gone, Vaughn immediately wanted to know what
was going on. “Why was he holding your underwear?”
Sydney tried her best to explain about the...mix-up. Though the fiasco in the
bathroom artfully managed to be left untold, most likely for the best. When she
was done, he seemed satisfied with her explanation. “I’m sorry, Syd. It’s just
after what he and Lauren did–“
She nodded to show her understanding.
In truth, Sydney Bristow was getting very tired of reminiscing about Lauren.
The sky was a glorious blue and the white sand soft as silk. The days went by in a
slow, beautiful haze. Sydney had never been happier. Vacationing in Fiji was one
of Vaughn’s better ideas. She looked over at the beach chair next to her and
smiled at the occupant. Vaughn smiled back. Her hand reached down to grab his,
but it wasn’t there. Vaughn wasn’t there. He was over by that palm tree,
searching for something...or someone. A pit arose in Sydney’s stomach. She
attempted to call out to Vaughn, to ask him to come back, but all sound had
ceased to flow. The pit gave a swift lurch when Sydney saw the what monopolized
Vaughn’s attention. Lauren was walking down the beach, away from them.
Suddenly, he broke into a run after her. Sydney tried to struggle to her feet, but
to no avail. Her body simply wouldn’t be moved. She watched in sorrow as
Vaughn’s silhouette moved farther down the beach, until he finally disappeared.
A single, silver tear slid down her cheek.
“He’s not worth it, Sydney Anne Bristow. Don’t you ever cry over the likes of
him,” said a smooth British voice. Without looking, she automatically knew who
was now sitting beside her.
“Sark, what are you doing here?”
“You are living a life not worth living.”
This was truly laughable. The guy who crawled out from under a rock was telling
her that her life was screwed up.
“Why don’t you just tell me all about it?” Did she really just say that?
“Do you really wish me to continue?” asked the voice.
The sun on the beach was so warm and delightful. All her worries were quickly
fading in its rays. Sark could insult her a thousand times over for all she cared.
Besides, his musical accent was delighting her ears.
“Please do.”
“What is most important above all?”
“My family and my friends.”
“Let’s start with your family then. Are you talking of your mother, who
manipulated you and tried to end your life? Or perhaps your father, who has
manipulated you as well, lying when he should be telling the truth? Maybe you
mean your sister, who is prophesied to either kill you or die by your hand?”
The sun wasn’t feeling so warm any more. In fact, dark clouds could be seen on
the horizon, slowly making their way toward the island.
“Stop, Sark, just stop.”
“And Vaughn. Do you actually think he will always be there for you?”
“I asked you to stop.”
“No, he won’t. Do you know why?”
“Stop right now before I–“
“Because Lauren has been seared into his memory. She will not fade. I assure
you of this fact.”
“Stop!”
Sydney opened her eyes and sat up, ready to deal with–
Her bedroom. She was back in her bedroom, Vaughn asleep next to her.
The next day, the dream, more like nightmare, occupied her thoughts. Could it
be? Was she really so blind? Did she actually think Vaughn would suddenly be rid
of his memories of Lauren? Sydney supposed the truth had stared her in the face
every day for the last month. Her father. Twenty years after his wife’s betrayal
and he still needed closure. Would that happen to Vaughn?
“–other than Espinosa, Sydney?”
She mentally snapped back into focus. Everyone was looking at her. She thought
she might be having another nightmare. Sydney examined herself for a split
second. She wasn’t naked. This must be reality.
Her head really needed to get back in the game. “Could you repeat that, please?”
Kendall looked slightly taken aback. “I asked if you recognized anyone other than
Espinosa?”
“No.” A thought came to her mind. “Did Sark?”
Sark looked at her with an odd expression on his face. In fact, all of them were
looking at her with an odd expression. She pinched herself to verify that she was
really awake.
“Syd, are you ok?” asked Marshall.
“I...I’m fine. What’s going on?”
“It seems, Agent Bristow, that while I was detailing the events of France, you
dozed off.” Blue eyes smirked at her from across the room.
“I did not doze off! I was merely...thinking of what Espinosa might do next.”
Sloane walked over and patted her shoulder. “As we all are, Sydney. Now,
according to our intel, Espinosa currently has her main base of operations here,” a
photo of a nightclub flashed onto the screens, “in Madrid, Spain.”
“What is she doing there?” asked Weiss.
“That is exactly what the APO needs to find out. Since we have the Mona Lisa, the
ampule is our secondary concern.. Rambaldi artifacts have been around for
centuries; they can wait a few more days.”
Did Sloane actually just say that? Sydney was more than amazed, but her gut still
told her that he was up to something fiendish.
“Why a nightclub?” piped in Marshall.
Sydney replied, “It’s her style.”
“It’s an ordinary nightclub?” Her voiced was laced with disbelief. “I don’t have to
wear a leather corset, carry a whip, or smear my face with more than an ounce of
make-up?”
Marshall nodded happily.
“What’s the catch?”
“No...catch. Well, there may be one ‘catch’ so to speak, but it’s really not all that
impor–“
“Marshall?”
He grimaced.
“It’s an asphyxiation club.”
“People strangle each other?”
“According to popular belief, the lack of oxygen...enhances the sexual bond
between the strangler and his victim.” Sark didn’t go into detail.
“That’s disgusting.”
“Well, Sydney, we all have certain...proclivities.” Smirk.
At that moment, Vaughn walked up to the strategizing trio and said, “Sydney,
could I speak to you for a second?”
She nodded in agreement. Back into the same vacant room as before.
“I...”
“What is it, Vaughn?” she asked, her heart hoping beyond hopes that he was
finally going to share his thoughts and feelings with her. That he did, but not
about what she expected.
“I don’t want you going on this mission. Have Nadia go instead.”
Sydney was perplexed. “What? Why?”
“Because you’re going to a...you’re going to a sex club with Sark. I don’t think I
can handle that.”
She sighed in irritation.
“I’ve already explained this to you. Dad told me that Sark would be my
responsibility. I am supposed to keep my eye on him.”
“But you never told me why.” Vaughn retorted angrily. “Why you? Why not Dixon
or Nadia? Why you?”
Sydney took a deep breath.
“Kendall believes that Sark has a certain...respect for me.”
“Respect? What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, Vaughn, but Sark doesn’t seem to be particularly determined to kill
me. And I, for one, am going to use that to my advantage.”
A hard light entered Vaughn’s eyes.
“Don’t do this, Sydney.”
“Vaughn, you’re being irrational. We can use this.”
Unfortunately for her, his mind was made up.
“If you go on that mission, we’re through.”
He left without looking back. Perhaps Sydney should have felt dismal by this
announcement, but just at the moment, she wanted mostly to claw his eyes out.
Casa del Diablo. House of the Devil. What a fitting name. Sydney looked
around. People were everywhere. Many were against the walls, in order to get
better leverage. Others were in the middle of the dance floor, though few seemed
to be dancing, at least from what she could tell. There seemed be a great deal
of...writhing going on. The people with more normal tastes were in between,
clustered around the bar, sipping alcoholic beverages and making small talk. Who
the heck went to a bar without the intention of getting laid anyway?
Sydney just wanted to get in and get out. Their mission was to access Espinosa’s
personal files and copy everything available. The files were on a server, and the
server was below the nightclub. Kendall did not want Espinosa apprehended. His
orders were strict on that matter. He wanted to see which direction the Covenant
was heading and Anna was going to lead the way.
“Why don’t you distract the guards while I pop downstairs?” suggested Sark.
Sydney considered the guards. “I have a better idea. You distract the guards and
I’ll pop downstairs. They wouldn’t be interested in me anyway.”
He immediately grasped her meaning and arched a blonde eyebrow. “Indeed?
How very convenient for you.”
“I like to think so.” With that, the faux redhead was gone.
Sark sauntered up to the two guards in front of the stairs.
“¿Habla usted inglés?”
Both men looked at him, but only one nodded.
“So,” Sark put his hands in his pockets, “You frequent this joint much?”
After a second, the guard that nodded laughed and put his arm around Sark.
“My name is Emilio and this is Gregorio. American are you?”
The blonde man nodded nervously.
Gregorio commented to his partner, “El chico es mono.”
Emilio laughed again. “And just how recently did you, how do you Americans put
it, come out of the closet?”
Sydney couldn’t help but quietly laugh as she made her way down the stairs.
Reaching the bottom, she rounded a corner and smacked into two guards.
Luckily, the moderately loud music upstairs covered their grunts and groans as
she skillfully proceeded to knock them unconscious. Sydney speedily found the
server room, extracted a small chip from the heel of her shoe, plugged it in, and
pressed a few buttons on the keyboard. “Download started, I’ll need five
minutes,” she whispered into her com.
Upstairs, Sark didn’t react to the sudden voice in his ear. He simply said, “Can I
buy you gentlemen a drink?”
Emilio smiled, his arm still around Sark. “No, I am afraid not, my friend, we are
on guard duty.”
“Guard duty?” Sark asked, looking confused. “Now what could you possibly be
guarding in a place like this?”
Emilio moved his head closer to Sark and whispered in his ear, “A very big, and
very dangerous secret.”
Julian turned his head. “And what secret is that?”
Emilio’s face was so close, he half expected to be kissed. In fact, Emilio was in
the process of closing the distance when an alarm went off somewhere
downstairs. The Spanish man snapped his head up at the sound. “Stay here, do
not follow us,” he said to Sark and ran down the stairs after Gregorio.
Sydney, on the other hand, wasn’t fairing so well. The chip had almost completed
downloading the data when the alarm went off. She had no idea why, but grabbed
the chip and ran for the stairwell. Five guards suddenly appeared from out of
nowhere. Whirling, her feet knocked down three, but the other two were drawing
their guns. Not wanting to deal with getting shot, Sydney flew down the corridor
and up the stairs so quickly that Gregorio and Emilio had no chance to stop her.
She grabbed Sark by his jacket as she ran by him and literally towed him toward
the entrance. Four armed guards were headed their way. Stopping short, the two
spies looked back. Emilio, Gregorio and the remaining three guards were just
appearing. Without warning, Sark grabbed Sydney and fell to the carpeted floor.
He whispered in her ear, “Make it look convincing.” Her hands automatically went
to his neck in a choke hold, while her lips found an ear to nibble on. “Maybe not
quite so convincing,” gasped Sark. She loosened her grip just a little while her
mouth continued its work. His hands moved to grasp her sides. “I don’t see an
exit besides the front door and the stairs,” she said softly into his ear.
“First things first, we can’t let Gregorio or Emilio recognize me with you, I’m
supposed to be gay after all.”
Her lips moved up to his so her long red hair sheltered his face on both sides.
Inspired by the sudden change of pace, Sark’s hands moved up a little farther.
Sydney positioned a knee between his legs in warning. Her faced lifted from
his. “Merlin, the entrance is blocked. Is there any way out downstairs?”
Emilio and another guard walked very near the two spies.
“Um...no. The place is sealed tighter than my grandmother’s sock drawer,” replied
Marshall.
felgercarb.
Suddenly, her concentration was broken as she felt Sark’s lips on her neck. They
moved slowly, devouring her skin, making her heart pound. Unconsciously, her
hands let go of his neck and moved to his stomach. Her fingers traced every line,
every hollow of his physique. His lips teasingly traveled south, making her gasp
lightly. She just wanted him to–
What in the heck?
“Sark,” Sydney whispered loudly, “Stop.” She pressed her knee down and her
hands went back up to his throat.
He ceased his explorations.
“I am trying to get us out of here alive.”
Sark looked up at her. “And what do you propose?”
She looked back down at him. “Why don’t we use our newfound talents.”
“Emilio!”
He turned to find the blonde man running toward him.
“I told you to stay put. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Sark put on his best pained look. “But I saw that woman who ran up the stairs
before you.”
Emilio was instantly focused on him. “Where?”
“She ran back down the stairs.” Sark pointed.
Emilio said something unintelligible into his walkie talkie.
He leaned over and kissed Sark on the cheek. “Thank you, American.” Then all
but two guards rushed for the stairs.
Sydney appeared beside him. “Let’s go,” she said with a smirk.
The plane’s engine ran smoothly, its steady rhythm cleared her head and began
steadying her pulse. Even an hour after escaping the club, adrenaline was still
pumping through her veins. Outside, the clouds drifted by like large puffs of
cotton candy. Sydney looked over at Sark. He sat across from her, staring out
the window. With no expression, he looked so young, so vulnerable. Vulnerable
her foot.
“How’s your shoulder?” Her voice dripped like honey and was as sweet as sugar.
Sark looked at her in surprise. “It’s splendid. Thank you for your concern.”
She acknowledged this with a nod, then pretended to be gazing out the window
herself. Not a very engaging pastime though, for the scene below was a familiar
one. Large, blue, and water were the only words left to describe it. Well, black
right then, since it was still nighttime after all.
“Although,” Sark continued, “that little spill we took at the club did knock it about
some. I should probably have it checked when we get back.”
Perfect. He had taken the bait already.
“Speaking of the little spill, exactly what was that about anyway?”
He looked at her in feigned innocence. “Really, Sydney, I would think someone
with your IQ would have understood my trying to save our lives.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Don’t try to bluff your way out of this one, Sark. If you EVER try something like
that again, I will thrash you to within an inch of your life. Do you understand?”
“I understand your threat completely, Sydney; but if you didn’t enjoy it, then why,
might I ask, did you respond in kind? Perhaps I should be asking you to refrain
as well.” Smirk.
Her fist rolled into a ball.
“Go suck on an egg, Sark.” was the first thing that came to her mind. Wha–?? A
mental head slap was definitely required for that.
“Excuse me?”
Well, she’d better go with it, otherwise a fool she would appear.
“You heard me.”
“I certainly heard you, but what kind of a retort was that?”
“That was my kind of a retort, so I repeat, go suck on an egg.”
“Well, in response, there are other things I would enjoy sucking on much more
than an egg.”
Sark was at the end of his string, and he knew it. But for some reason, his
inhibitions were nowhere to be found.
“Would you like me to list them for you?”
Sydney jumped up. “No, I would NOT like you to list them for me. In fact, I
would NOT like for you to talk at all!”
Before he could move, Sydney had grabbed a pair of handcuffs from her carry-
on, and latched Sark to the chair by his left wrist. Another pair of handcuffs for his
other wrist followed, though where she found them he knew not. Four seconds
after that, the duct tape had been removed from a nearby cupboard and attached
to his face.
With a look of extreme satisfaction, Sydney sat back down across from him.
The next meeting was strangely awkward. Vaughn ignored Sydney, Sydney was
mad at Sark, and Sark wanted to kill the whole world, mostly because everyone
at the APO was secretly discussing his escapade.
“Good work,” Kendall said. “Especially you, Sark. Sydney detailed in her report
how you,” a small smile played upon his face, “saved both her life and yours.”
Sark was not amused.
