Selfish Crimes

amy lynn

The Polish Pirate
Selfish Crimes
Author: Amy
Disclaimer: ::looks at self:: No, I'm not JJ. I don’t own them…I just own my over-active muse…
Rating: Could be R-ish for the violent images...
Summary: Just a little songfic about the battle between Sark and Julian. The lyrics fit so perfectly, they begged me to write it. Yes, the song lyrics begged :lol:

“Recognize” by Flaw

Well I’ve had enough
Of these selfish crimes
I hurt myself again
Not knowing why
It seems so easy
To leave it all behind
And avoid the truth I think I’d rather just go blind


He loosened the black silk tie around his neck that threatened to choke him. Visions of a broken, battered, bloody body swam across his face.

He ran his hands over his eyes, down his face, wearily. It was a half-hearted attempt to erase the image that had haunted him for years, and would continue to haunt him forever. His emotions were on edge. And his emotions never were. He wanted a drink. He needed a drink.

He remained in his suit, the tie hanging loosely around his neck now. As he made his way down to the vast wine cellar, he was reminded of the absolute silence that came from living alone. And of the screams that could be heard loudest when there was no other noise to block it out.

He walked stealthily into his wine cellar in search of a nice red to relax him after a long night. But as he looked down the rows of bottles, every one rare and expensive, he was unsatisfied with all of them.

They were Sark’s wines. He could not drink any of them tonight.

He walked back up the stairs, and they creaked in the night silence, reminding him again of the fact that he was all alone – besides the body guards that roamed around the yard all hours of the day.

He could not bring himself to drink Sark’s wine because tonight, he was not Sark. He was stripped bare, exposed, he was Julian. And Julian never drank wine.

Julian liked whiskey, strong Irish whiskey.

There was blood on his hands tonight. That wasn’t unusual, given his chosen profession, but tonight it was more than business.

Tonight it had been all personal.

And because tonight he had not been Mr. Sark, because tonight he had crossed the line between personas, because tonight he had mixed Julian into Sark’s world, his insides bled.

And he drank. He drank to forget, he drank to be blurred, and he drank in a desperate prayer that he could either be cleansed, or go back to the beginning.

Going back was impossible and he knew it. So he decided to drown himself in amber liquor.

Then everything erupts
My life has come unglued
And the ties that bind have left me
What am I to do?


Amber dreams plagued his mind. Everything was the shade of the drink he had consumed.

Everything that is, except the blood. That was red, not the dark red of the liquid that seeped through his veins, but the bright red of the blood in his memories.

The images were abstract, like his memories. He was walking somewhere, and his surroundings moved quickly, dizzyingly so, as if he were on a merry-go-round. Then everything became slower, clearer.

There she was. She had been waiting for him that way. The knife had remained lodged in her heart for him to find.

Mom.

He might have screamed it out loud, or it might have just been in his mind.

Julian, help me.

He could hear her screaming it, even though she was already dead.

It was the voice that would never leave him alone, the voice that made him want to be surrounded by people – and yet also made him want to live his life in solitude.

He awoke with a layer of whiskey scented sweat covering his body.

His stomach revolted at the thought of whiskey. He was Sark again.

As he washed his face, he looked into the mirror. On so many different levels, he looked like a stranger.

Can’t seem to recognize
that stare behind those eyes
who is this man I see?
Who’s looking back at me?
Can’t focus through the grey
And I am fading into nothing
The reflection must get clearer


She was the only aspect of his life that had been pure and untouched by evil. He had forgiven her for leaving him at that awful school, all alone, for so many years.

She had protected him under the guise of desiring a social life over spending time with her child. He had thought her a shallow butterfly that flits about from one engagement to the next and felt no emotion towards her son. He had been bitter and angry until he learned the truth.

He was not so bitter, so heartless that he couldn’t understand it later on in life. So when she had finally left his father, he hid her away, safe, in Ireland. He had Mr. Sark for a year by then, and she worried about him always. But he made sure that he was the best, and that he always came back to her.

He became Mr. Sark, crafted him out of all of his bitterness against the society that had deprived him of a love-filled childhood. He flaunted his increasing wealth and lack of conforming to a sense of morality with his new Armani suit and his flashy black BMW.

He made sure his mother was safe, secure, and lived comfortably – but not flashy, not her, not ever again.

She had known part of what he did, but he did tell her one lie. He told her it was for the good of God and Country. He fed her a harmless lie to protect her – the same way she had done with him as a child.

Until five years ago. When he had come home to find her mutilated – the blood still fresh. There had been no trace or her murderer, but that did not stop him from vowing revenge.

Everything he had done since then had systematically led up to last night.

And now, he could not remember the young man who had loved his mother so much. He had hoped that he could go back when this was finished, but that was impossible.

He did not know who he was anymore.

I think I'm cracking up
Like I've lost my mind
I hurt myself again
Still don’t know why
I end up the same way
To leave it all behind
I cant avoid the truth
There's just nowhere to run and hide


It was a year after he exacted his revenge.

He was still pretending to be Sark. He was still trying to find Julian again. He was still lost.

The cruelty of Sark became routine. It no longer affected Julian as it once had. Because Julian had experienced too much now; Julian had killed, too.

Now they were both jaded.

It was at that point that Irina sent him on a mission. He was to lead a team to FTL headquarters, destroy the organization, and assassinate the leader. She put her trust in him to succeed in his task, and when he did, would give him the title Director of Operations.

The mission would mean that his face was out in the open. But that no longer mattered. He no longer had anyone, or anything to hide. His past was completely dead.

Or so he thought.

One day, months later, he met somebody who changed that.

He came across somebody who could bring Julian back – and was doing so, unknowingly, a little more each day.

Can’t seem to recognize
That stare behind those eyes
Who is this man I see?
Who’s looking back at me?
Can’t focus through the grey
And I am fading into nothing
The reflection must get clearer than it appears to be right now


Sydney Bristow. Her goodness, her innate morality and loyalty to her country tugged something inside Sark. It grasped the little amount of Julian that was left – it was still hazy but there.

The painful process of him coming back to life was turning him into yet another stranger.

He would see her on missions. He tried to recruit her to his side a few times. He had no idea why he had done that. Irina would have skinned him alive had he come back with Sydney in tow.

Julian bubbled up from inside him; a place he thought was long dead, forever lost. It was like he was possessed. He was doing things that he never would have done before.

He negotiated for access to Sloane, taunting her with the idea that he would give her the antidote for her precious handler, Vaughn. When he had made the deal, he really had no intention of going through with the deal.

But he did not want to break her heart. He did not want to destroy her. And the honor that Julian had once felt showed through. So he did not break his promise.

That was just the beginning.

There must be someone I can see....
There’s got to be something for me
Show it now, let it go free
I know its there waiting on me
Let it out, let it go free


Now when he looked in the mirror, he saw the image of Sark receding – more and more quickly as the months went by.

He was merging into the two again. He had no idea how to stop it from happening. He half wanted to be Julian, and he half hoped that Julian would never take over and recede again from merging with Sark and the violence of that life.

He didn’t know what to do.

He couldn’t gloss over this with another one of Sark’s illusions. He couldn’t kill Julian – as was proven by the re-emergence.

And then he had no choice in the matter.

He was stuck in a cell. Irina had given him up and he was stuck in a cell. There was no work that would keep Julian from setting free from his insides.

In fact, the CIA did everything they could to bring Julian forward. But there was one spot of resistance.

She was dead.

Can’t seem to recognize
That stare behind those eyes
Who is this man I see?
Who’s looking back at me?
Can’t focus through the grey
and I am fading into nothing
the reflection must get clearer


And then she was back. It wasn’t sudden, but once he saw her again, the two years he had spent – feeding them small tidbits, keeping himself alive – floated away.

The moment she stepped into the area outside his glass wall, he felt like Julian – purely Julian.

He caught a glimpse of himself in that glass, and saw him as she did. He didn’t recognize the face that looked back at him. The risk of catching his reflection, and seeing what he had become, had kept both Sark and Julian from seeking a glimpse.

And now, he was Julian. He could see it in the glass, he could feel it inside. But he had to be Sark. It was the biggest illusion he had ever pulled off.

Riding in the van he was so close to her, preparing to be traded off. He almost lost control.

He was so desperate to hold onto Julian that he felt the urge to get closer to her. He wanted to feel, just once, the soft lips that beckoned with their goodness.

But he restrained himself, because Sark would never have done such a thing in desperation. He might have done it in mocking, or in anger, but never desperation. And the desperation he felt was not something he could hide.

As he walked away from her, into the yellow dust, he knew that his battle was far from over. He was still lost. He would always be lost in somebody he did not recognize. It was too late to go back. It was too late to change.

He was Julian, but to the rest of the world, he was the illusion that was Sark.
 
Again, for the record: I thought this was absolute and complete brilliance.

And while I was too tired :asleep: earlier to give it the full treatment over at ML, I'm semi-awake now and yearning to make inane, slightly irrelevant comments about your spelendid, lovely writing. ;)

And he drank. He drank to forget, he drank to be blurred, and he drank in a desperate prayer that he could either be cleansed, or go back to the beginning.

There's such a prettiness to the repetition you used of 'he drank'. It drives home the despair (ahhh...the ANGST!) and... C'mon. Who doesn't love Tortured!Drunk!Sark? ;)

He could not bring himself to drink Sark’s wine because tonight, he was not Sark. He was stripped bare, exposed, he was Julian. And Julian never drank wine.

Julian liked whiskey, strong Irish whiskey.

I like how you draw a strong, hard line between 'Julian' and 'Sark'. I liked this example the best because it was something little, what other people would consider trivial or unimportant...and yet, it's incredibly significant.

There she was. She had been waiting for him that way. The knife had remained lodged in her heart for him to find.

Mom.

He might have screamed it out loud, or it might have just been in his mind.

Julian, help me.

He could hear her screaming it, even though she was already dead.

I was literally like 'Oh, my god' at this part. I swear, every customer in the store turned to look at me. But...incredible. I can see this playing out in my mind--I think this may be the best bit of Sark-centric writing I've ever read in a fanfic. And, like Julian, I'm just bleeding inside. Powerful.

Amber dreams plagued his mind. Everything was the shade of the drink he had consumed.

Everything that is, except the blood. That was red, not the dark red of the liquid that seeped through his veins, but the bright red of the blood in his memories.

Fantastic descriptions. Truly. Very muted, poignant. I love it.

The moment she stepped into the area outside his glass wall, he felt like Julian – purely Julian.

It's interesting that he wants to be Julian for her; that she inspires him to shed Sark, if only for a moment. I think this is very true, the way you wrote this; that he's fascinated by her morality and ideals enough to want to half-revert back to his old ways. Kindred souls, maybe?

As he walked away from her, into the yellow dust, he knew that his battle was far from over. He was still lost. He would always be lost in somebody he did not recognize. It was too late to go back. It was too late to change.

He was Julian, but to the rest of the world, he was the illusion that was Sark.

Truer words. God. That was excellent. I can't rave enough; if only the writers paid as much attention and had as much insight as you do to Sark. He could truly be a great, conflicted character and your fic, he finally rises to his potential.

Fabulous job. :smiley:
 
Wow. Just. Wow. I can't review this to do it justice so I'll just say that I agree with everything Dita said!!! ^_^ Amy, you are a truly talented writer. And yes, I wish you worked for ABC. ^_^

Just amazing. Truly. :flowers:
 
it makes me want to cry. i'm telling you, you could publish a book of fanfics and people would go crazy. i would buy it. it just amazes me. plus i love this idea for this fic. you're the queen.

m-c
 
acting_chica: Seriously, the queen? :blush: I swear, one of these days, my head is going to explode from all the compliments! As for a book of fanfic -- will you settle for an original novel by me one day? ...Thats my goal anyway...we'll see what happens...

Leslie: Oh man, how much would it rock if I really did work for ABC? There's so much that could be done... *sigh* Thanks for the review, and I'm so glad you liked it!

fivetoesonefoot: Thanks! :blush: I appreciate you taking the time to review :smiley:

Dita: :blush: I can't tell you how much I enjoy your rambling reviews...they always make me feel wonderful!

Re: Sark's mother and your reaction -- can I just say how much I wanted to cry writing that? Sometimes these images in my head are...erm...disturbing...

I'm so glad you noticed even the subtle ways (i.e. the different drinks) that I differentiated between the two.

As for him wanting to be Julian around Sydney -- her morality inspires him, in a way that he used to want to be good for his parents when he was younger, in hopes that they would love him...or for his mother when he learned the truth, even though it was too late...

Anyway, I'm glad to see my Sark obsession has paid off, and you all enjoyed this so much :smiley:
 
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