AliasSydney502
Cadet
haha, great update!
wonder how this suit thing will play out.
wonder how this suit thing will play out.
Wasted Time
- Thread starter lilspy
- Start date
PointguysGirl
Cadet
Ha! :sideroll:
Great update, Thanks for pm
mnkdance963
Cadet
great update!!!!!
SydneyAnneVaughn
Cadet
Wonderful update! I can't wait to see how things work out with Sark & Syd. Thaks for the pm and I can't wait for the next chapter! ^_^
xMountineer02300844x
Cadet
Two great chappies. I'm confused on one part, is Syddie pregnant? And, I had a feeling Steve was EVIL! lol. Thanks for the PMs.
-Erin
-Erin
secret_agent_angel
Cadet
is this a sarkney fic????
if it's NOT can i have a pm,lease:
if it's NOT can i have a pm,
lease:Dislciamer: Nope, I am not claiming to own Alias or anything to do with it.
A/N: School is over! (for Now) and as I promised I would, I have updated.
~~~Dixon's POV~~~
"Can't we just run them back through the farm?" I suggested.
"That could leave us severly underprocted. We will simply send them in with backup on any upcoming missions." Sloane reposnded.
"That's a waste of manpower. You know that." Jack interveened.
"What are you suggesting we do? We send those kids packing and we overwork our veteran agents on petty missions?" Sloane remarked.
"What if we went through all our upcoming missions and only went after the most important ones?" I suggested.
"We have no way of telling what the effect of losing those other artifacts will have on our cause." Sloane reminded us.
"What if you simply have the farm train them better and longer. In the mean time we work with what we have. We can make the new agents desk agents. Let them track us on missions. Problem solved." Jack breathed.
"Not necessarily, they need training to be classified at desk agents." Sloane pointed out.
~~~Sydney's POV~~~
I leaned on the railing on the highest desk, the wind whipping around my hair. The moon illuminated my kahki pants and dressy red shirt. My red flip flops had a simple chinese design lay dangleing off my feet. I breathed in the familiar scent of the ocean, the calmness of this lifestyle. I knew that soon they'd be calling me- to check on my progress. I closed my eyes as I traced the edges of the railing memorizing each groove in it. With a sigh, I slipped on my shoes, properly, and headed back to my cabin.
My bags were neatly packed with my things tucked snuggly inside of them and my bed was neatly made. All that was left to be accomplished was to leave a tip for housecleaning. I feelt that they deserve a tip from me, given the numerous times I had boarded this ship.
"Coming," i answered as a short, succent knocking sounded at my door.
I opened the door to find Sark looking pissed off.
"How else may i be indebted to you today?" I greeted smiling.
"That's absolute bollocks!" He greeted, losing his composure for a second. "I help you and I get screwed over?"
"You mean the ship? That was not my fault," I spoke as I walked away from the door.
"Please, explain to me how it was not your fault." He urged me as he stepped into my room.
"You see, this company, makes it quite obvious when the ship will be returning. If you loose track of time, well, it's not my fault. Also, I did do my part. No one suspected anything." I smiled triumphantly.
"Well then, I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Miss Bristow." Sark smiled innocently as he departed from my room. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it closed as he chimed, "you'll get your bill in the mail."
The door slammed shut with a satisfying thud.
"What?" I spoke aloud, groaning in frustration. "Impossbile, that man is absolutely impossible."
I threw open the door and headed after him. Or, at least i tried to. Upon opening the door, no sign of Sark could be found.
The loud, insistant horn reminded me that the ship was docking. I grabbed up my things and took one last look around, making sure that I had not forgotten anything.
I crossed, staring out the glass windows, over the bridge connecting the ship and the port. With all the traffic of people it took me about 30 minutes to reach my car. However when I got to my usual spot, my car was no where to be found. In it's spot was a sign and a note. From the address on the top the note was obviously for me.
"I knew I forgot to do something-reregister the rental." I whispered. I pulled out my cellphone only to find out that I had no service in this multi-leveled parking lot. I pulled the note off the sign and pushed it into my pocket.
I headed towards the end of the parking lot as a car sped past me, angrily.
"Hey! Watch it!" I yelled at them.
Another car slowed down behind me. I shifted more to the right to allow the car to have room to pass me. However, the car remained behind me. After 2 more minutes of walking the car was still behind me. I turned around to confront the driver only to spot Sark behind the wheel of a mettalic gray car that I had never seen before in my life.
He stepped out of the car. "Get in. You need a ride, get in."
"Excuse you?" I asked.
"Get in, it'll help. The concentration will help you." he promised.
"I don't need to focus too much energy on driving, Sark. Besides, i can call cab." I informed him.
"Trust me. Besides, with the amount of time you've spent on this ship, I doubt you have much money left over, anyways." he pulled open the passenger door.
The car was a beautiful 2 seater. It ws short and curvy and resembled expensive Nissan cars. However, something told me this wasn't a Nissan.
I slid intro the driver' seat, marveling at the interior of the car.
My fingers traced the interior. "Holy felgercarb." I breathed.
Sark smiled contently.
I glanced at the electronics. "This..."
"Is my baby. It's a Volkswagon." he answered.
I scoffed at the idea of this. "What about all of your other cars?"
"Just toys, Miss Bristow.Oh, and I would suggest buckling up. It's the law you know."
"Since when have you ever followed the law?" I smirked.
"If your not stupid you'll put on your seat belt.
I buckled myslef in and pressed lightly on the gas and screamed. "Holy felgercarb!" I yelled, pushing on the breaks. I put it in park and laid on the sterring wheel, my whole body shaking.
"I should have warned you. The Bugatti Veyron can reach 62 mph in 2.5 seconds." Sark smirked. "Whoops."
"Yeah, whoops. I nearly had a heart attack. I think you should drive."
"No. You drive her. It'll help." he assured me.
This time when I started driving I was ready for it. I weaved my way through the normal Fort Lauderdale fast-moving traffic. I have no clue how mcuh time passed while I was behind the wheel. At leat until I turned down a street, at Sark's request. He driected me through a complicated neighborhood until at last I parked us at a beautifully decorated brick building. The edges of the windows were decorated with vines with Roses attacked to them. Unrealistic, but still beautiful. On the patio, circular tables decorated the area. Inside the builing was slightly darkened.
"Sark, what is this place?" I questioned.
"I've found a fair trade off for helping you." He responded.
"But you didn't really help me." I insisted.
"I did a much better job fullfilling my promise than you have." he pointed out.
"So?" I asked.
"So go out to dinner with me."
A/N: Yes, I am leaving it there. It's crappy, but at least i updated. I promise, Sark will help here emotionally. Yes, they are finally off that ship, but I promise, you haven't seen the last of Steve or Sam. They'll be back. Also, the Bugatti Veyron is the world's fastest, most expensive car to-date. (There are currently quite a few in America.)
A/N: School is over! (for Now) and as I promised I would, I have updated.
Chapter 3~My Baby
~~~Dixon's POV~~~
"Can't we just run them back through the farm?" I suggested.
"That could leave us severly underprocted. We will simply send them in with backup on any upcoming missions." Sloane reposnded.
"That's a waste of manpower. You know that." Jack interveened.
"What are you suggesting we do? We send those kids packing and we overwork our veteran agents on petty missions?" Sloane remarked.
"What if we went through all our upcoming missions and only went after the most important ones?" I suggested.
"We have no way of telling what the effect of losing those other artifacts will have on our cause." Sloane reminded us.
"What if you simply have the farm train them better and longer. In the mean time we work with what we have. We can make the new agents desk agents. Let them track us on missions. Problem solved." Jack breathed.
"Not necessarily, they need training to be classified at desk agents." Sloane pointed out.
~~~Sydney's POV~~~
I leaned on the railing on the highest desk, the wind whipping around my hair. The moon illuminated my kahki pants and dressy red shirt. My red flip flops had a simple chinese design lay dangleing off my feet. I breathed in the familiar scent of the ocean, the calmness of this lifestyle. I knew that soon they'd be calling me- to check on my progress. I closed my eyes as I traced the edges of the railing memorizing each groove in it. With a sigh, I slipped on my shoes, properly, and headed back to my cabin.
My bags were neatly packed with my things tucked snuggly inside of them and my bed was neatly made. All that was left to be accomplished was to leave a tip for housecleaning. I feelt that they deserve a tip from me, given the numerous times I had boarded this ship.
"Coming," i answered as a short, succent knocking sounded at my door.
I opened the door to find Sark looking pissed off.
"How else may i be indebted to you today?" I greeted smiling.
"That's absolute bollocks!" He greeted, losing his composure for a second. "I help you and I get screwed over?"
"You mean the ship? That was not my fault," I spoke as I walked away from the door.
"Please, explain to me how it was not your fault." He urged me as he stepped into my room.
"You see, this company, makes it quite obvious when the ship will be returning. If you loose track of time, well, it's not my fault. Also, I did do my part. No one suspected anything." I smiled triumphantly.
"Well then, I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Miss Bristow." Sark smiled innocently as he departed from my room. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it closed as he chimed, "you'll get your bill in the mail."
The door slammed shut with a satisfying thud.
"What?" I spoke aloud, groaning in frustration. "Impossbile, that man is absolutely impossible."
I threw open the door and headed after him. Or, at least i tried to. Upon opening the door, no sign of Sark could be found.
The loud, insistant horn reminded me that the ship was docking. I grabbed up my things and took one last look around, making sure that I had not forgotten anything.
I crossed, staring out the glass windows, over the bridge connecting the ship and the port. With all the traffic of people it took me about 30 minutes to reach my car. However when I got to my usual spot, my car was no where to be found. In it's spot was a sign and a note. From the address on the top the note was obviously for me.
"To Whom it May Concern or more specifically, the owner of the 2001 black Acura. Your rental car company has called in your car as overdue. To prevent nay criminal charges frm being purpused we have handed over your car to them. Also, you will be recieving a fine for the cost of towing the vehicle. We hope you enjoyed your cruise.
Please feel free to use one of our cabs to get home. (Call 555-3689)
Fort Lauderdale Cruise Lines"
Please feel free to use one of our cabs to get home. (Call 555-3689)
Fort Lauderdale Cruise Lines"
"I knew I forgot to do something-reregister the rental." I whispered. I pulled out my cellphone only to find out that I had no service in this multi-leveled parking lot. I pulled the note off the sign and pushed it into my pocket.
I headed towards the end of the parking lot as a car sped past me, angrily.
"Hey! Watch it!" I yelled at them.
Another car slowed down behind me. I shifted more to the right to allow the car to have room to pass me. However, the car remained behind me. After 2 more minutes of walking the car was still behind me. I turned around to confront the driver only to spot Sark behind the wheel of a mettalic gray car that I had never seen before in my life.
He stepped out of the car. "Get in. You need a ride, get in."
"Excuse you?" I asked.
"Get in, it'll help. The concentration will help you." he promised.
"I don't need to focus too much energy on driving, Sark. Besides, i can call cab." I informed him.
"Trust me. Besides, with the amount of time you've spent on this ship, I doubt you have much money left over, anyways." he pulled open the passenger door.
The car was a beautiful 2 seater. It ws short and curvy and resembled expensive Nissan cars. However, something told me this wasn't a Nissan.
I slid intro the driver' seat, marveling at the interior of the car.
My fingers traced the interior. "Holy felgercarb." I breathed.
Sark smiled contently.
I glanced at the electronics. "This..."
"Is my baby. It's a Volkswagon." he answered.
I scoffed at the idea of this. "What about all of your other cars?"
"Just toys, Miss Bristow.Oh, and I would suggest buckling up. It's the law you know."
"Since when have you ever followed the law?" I smirked.
"If your not stupid you'll put on your seat belt.
I buckled myslef in and pressed lightly on the gas and screamed. "Holy felgercarb!" I yelled, pushing on the breaks. I put it in park and laid on the sterring wheel, my whole body shaking.
"I should have warned you. The Bugatti Veyron can reach 62 mph in 2.5 seconds." Sark smirked. "Whoops."
"Yeah, whoops. I nearly had a heart attack. I think you should drive."
"No. You drive her. It'll help." he assured me.
This time when I started driving I was ready for it. I weaved my way through the normal Fort Lauderdale fast-moving traffic. I have no clue how mcuh time passed while I was behind the wheel. At leat until I turned down a street, at Sark's request. He driected me through a complicated neighborhood until at last I parked us at a beautifully decorated brick building. The edges of the windows were decorated with vines with Roses attacked to them. Unrealistic, but still beautiful. On the patio, circular tables decorated the area. Inside the builing was slightly darkened.
"Sark, what is this place?" I questioned.
"I've found a fair trade off for helping you." He responded.
"But you didn't really help me." I insisted.
"I did a much better job fullfilling my promise than you have." he pointed out.
"So?" I asked.
"So go out to dinner with me."
A/N: Yes, I am leaving it there. It's crappy, but at least i updated. I promise, Sark will help here emotionally. Yes, they are finally off that ship, but I promise, you haven't seen the last of Steve or Sam. They'll be back. Also, the Bugatti Veyron is the world's fastest, most expensive car to-date. (There are currently quite a few in America.)
KAliasGirl
Cadet
great chapter
AliasSydney502
Cadet
oooooo
Dinner with Sarkie... she better accept!!
Dinner with Sarkie... she better accept!!
KAliasGirl
Cadet
cool car
xMountineer02300844x
Cadet
good chappie.
holy cow that is one awesome car!
thanks for the PM.
-Erin
holy cow that is one awesome car!
thanks for the PM.
-Erin
mnkdance963
Cadet
great chap!!!
thats a pretty wicked car!!!
thats a pretty wicked car!!!
thanks, I try.
gracias.
haha....
she had no choice I can't relaly take credit for it, I didn't build it. But I saw it one a special on ABC and thought... that car wuodl be perfect for Sark.
good chappie.
holy cow that is one awesome car!
thanks for the PM.
-Erin
I guess I did a good job of picking one for him?
glad everyone liked my choice.
A/N: You too, can own one for the price of $1.2(?) million, give or take a few...
Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Alias or any of its characters.
A/N: If you're thinking, 'finally, an update,' well then you would be correct.
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my home country, Trinidad and Tobago, for kicking so much ass in their first World Cup ever in this year's 2006 FIFA World Cup. Get some!
Previously on Wasted Time:
I buckled myself in and pressed lightly on the gas and screamed. "Holy felgercarb!" I yelled, pushing on the breaks. I put it in park and laid on the steering wheel, my whole body shaking.
"I should have warned you. The Bugatti Veyron can reach 62 mph in 2.5 seconds." Sark smirked. "Whoops."
"Yeah, whoops. I nearly had a heart attack. I think you should drive."
"No. You drive her. It'll help." he assured me.
This time when I started driving I was ready for it. I weaved my way through the normal Fort Lauderdale fast-moving traffic. I have no clue how much time passed while I was behind the wheel. At least until I turned down a street, at Sark's request. He directed me through a complicated neighborhood until at last I parked us at a beautifully decorated brick building. The edges of the windows were decorated with vines with Roses attached to them. Unrealistic, but still beautiful. On the patio, circular tables decorated the area. Inside the building was slightly darkened.
"Sark, what is this place?" I questioned.
"I've found a fair trade off for helping you." He responded.
"But you didn't really help me." I insisted.
"I did a much better job fulfilling my promise than you have." he pointed out.
"So?" I asked.
"So go out to dinner with me."
Chapter 4~ Lessons in Wisdom and Grief
"One head cannot contain all wisdom." -- "The Olduvai Cycle", Systems University Archives.
Andromeda, episode # 114 Harper 2.0
The wind blew past us, picking up stranded leaves and allowing them to know the brief sensation of flying before they were dropped back onto the ground again. Save for that rustling sound and the low volume of people engaged in private conversations, the road was eerily quiet.
Sark remained silent, awaiting my answer. After a minute, he gazed out of the car window to the one-story building I had driven us to. His fingers tapped an unknown beat on the car door while he awaited my answer.
I sat there, listening to the persistent rumbling of my stomach while I considered it.
"Well it's not bloody brain surgery." he spat out.
"Khaki pants, red flip flops, and a red shirt?" I questioned. "This place doesn't look like it accepts my current choice of attire."
However, my stomach grumbled at my protest. It was demanding, in the same demeanor as a 6 month old, to be fed.
Looking at me, he cocked an eyebrow upwards at this sound.
"Fine." I acquiesced with a defeated sigh. "But you foot the bill."
I opened the door and considered slamming it for a second, but one glance at the beauty of it in the setting sun convinced me otherwise. I closed it softly, enjoying the elegant click it ensued in.
"Sark?" I called, glancing around for him but coming up with nothing. I mumbled under my breath, "The guy disappears more than Houdini."
However, a quick walk to the other side of the car revealed that he was still sitting inside.
"You plan on coming out?" I asked, coldly. "Or perhaps you intend to eat the interior of your car."
"I'm glad to see your manners are still intact." He retorted. "Aren't you supposed to open my door now?"
"No," I shook my head. "I think this is where I kick you in the balls if you don't get out."
He pondered this for a moment before he stepped out of the car and turned the alarm on.
I followed him inside of the restaurant where a tall brunette Russian man dressed in a suit behind a wooden podium asked us for our reservations. The inside of the building was decorated in shades of red.
"Oh, I didn't- just-they didn't- follow me." The man stumbled along after he saw us.
He led us up a long, winding flight of stairs.
"Stairs?" I mouthed to Sark who refused to acknowledge my question.
"Here we are." the man smiled, opening the door to the... roof.
At least that’s what it used to be. It had now been transformed into another floor of the restaurant with green and black marble tiling. 3 petite circular tables occupied the space along with an area for a band and a small 10' x 12' dancing area. Flowers decorated the edges of the building, giving it a florid appearance. On one of the tables, on top of the silk white tablecloths were appropriate silverware, a rose, candles and note. The man helped me to my seat and pointed Sark to his.
"Here are your menus." He handed us red and black engraved menus that has been laminated.
"They smell like..." I began. "...lilies."
"You know, that's the fastest anyone's ever acknowledged that." the man smiled. He pulled out an oblong blue plastic device from his pocket..
“Did I win that?” I joked.
"Almost, press this button when you're ready to order. When you see this light go off and it vibrates, that means that your food is done and I'm on my way. If, afterwards, you would like anything else, feel free to press the button again." He spoke with the confidence of a man who had been repeating the same phrase for years.
"Well, thank you... Farid?" I began, unsure of how to pronounce his name.
"Farid. It's pronounced Fa-reed." He corrected me.
"I'm sorry." I smiled in embarrassment.
"I could never be mad at someone as beautiful as you." He took my hand into his and kissed it briefly before replacing it. With a bow he was gone back downstairs.
After browsing through the menu for a few minutes I knew what I wanted.
"So, I'm guessing that this is an expensive place." I noted.
"What makes you say that?" Sark questioned, searching through his menu.
"The prices aren't listed; which suggests that if you have to ask how much money it is, you can't afford it."
"Most likely." he responded.
"Are you done?" I asked. Without waiting for his reply I pressed the button.
In less than a minute Farid had arrived at our tableside. "What would you like to eat?"
"I will have a sliced top Sirloin steak in Portobello sauce and for desert, your delicious Tiramisu."
"And what drink would you enjoy?" Farid questioned.
"The best wine you own." Sark answered without hesitating.
"And for the lady?" Farid began, turning to me.
"I would like some Filet Mignon and for desert I will try some of your Banana Foster." I smiled.
"And what drink would strike your fancy?" he questioned.
"She will take some Apple Cider." Sark interrupted.
I scoffed, softly. "Well, excuse the hell out of me. I think I can decide what I would like the drink without your help."
"I don't think so. It doesn't seem like you've been doing a hell of a job so far." He snarled.
I glared at him.
"Miss?" Farid began, unsure of how to respond.
"I'll take the apple cider." I spoke softly.
Farids’s brown eye's reflected his sympathy towards my situation. Even though he knew very little of it.
"I'll be back later with your food." he promised us, whisking away our menus.
"You amaze me." Sark began.
I chose, instead of responding, to read the note left on our table. It welcomed us to the restaurant and things along that line.
"How someone can shift, so fluently" he accenciuated, "between the stages of grief is amazing."
I decided to not respond to this.
And, until the arrival of our food, silence ensued.
I gazed down at my beautiful dish and tried not to cry. The dish reminds me of so many things. It reminds me of Vaughn, of Francie, and of Danny. It reminds me of my past and all that I have lost. And so, in an effort to hide the tears that threaten to fall, I lean my head on my half-opened fist. Despite my effort, tears soon spoil the perfectly cooked Filet Mignon.
Sark remains quiet, eating his Sirloin steak.
When the tears threaten to get out of hand, I speak up in a shaky voice. "I have to go to the bathroom."
Sark glances up, this time, noticing that something's wrong.
"You are the only person I know who can take away the enjoyment of eating a perfectly prepared Sirloin steak."
I stare down at my food, ashamed. "Can I ask you something? You loved her didn't you? How did you deal with the death of Lauren?"
"Like she was gone. Nothing to fret about." he lied.
I stared him in the eye. "No, you didn't."
He stood up silently and moved around the table, sliding into my chair and enclosing me in a tight hug.
"You get over it. You have to. Otherwise it kills you." he whispers into my ear. "But most of all, you can't look on the bright side. It makes it worse."
He must have held me for 15 minutes before his phone rang. He made a move to disentangle himself but thought otherwise.
"Sark." He greeted the person.
I couldn't quite make out what the person's response was.
"I can't talk right now, I'll get back to you tonight." With that he turned off his phone and pocketed it, to the best of his abilities.
"That's a first." I began softly.
"What?" he questioned, repositioning me in his arms so that I had more room.
"Don't look on the bright side?" I asked him.
"It makes it worse. You tend to hide your feelings from other people so that they think that you're better. If they think that you're better, they can't help you; if you take so much time convincing them that you're better, you're only going to prolong the recovery process." he replied, matter-of-factly. "You just take the pain, without the alcohol. And you push it into something else. Like exercise and completing missions. Things that are beneficial to you anyways. Then the pain starts to dull until one day you don't feel it anymore. And then that will hurt you. Soon, that feeling goes away. And all you feel is calm, and complacent with a hint of sadness."
"No." I pushed at him. "That's not how I've ever dealt with it. I've gone through the death of loved ones before; several, in fact."
"This time is different. You've never experienced this. Perhaps, you don't know what to do. You are already amazing at hand to hand combat, lingual skills, lying, typing, physically demanding things, education, helping others, etc. You can't be good at everything." Sark pointed out.
"You said it yourself, I know how to help others, I am great at solving problems, I should be able to..." I trailed off.
"You're not allowed to know everything. One head cannot contain all wisdom." He whispered.
“But I want to…” I whispered.
I could hear a throat being cleared as I looked up.
"Your desserts." Farid smiled at me, setting them down before us.
I grabbed a fork digging into the wonderfully prepared stylish cake-like dessert.
"What are you doing?" Sark asked.
"Eating. "I answered, after swallowing a bite.
With a gentle tug at my fork, Sark pulled it out of my hand. "Eating my Tiramisu."
I gave him a sheepish smile.
"That is your Banana Foster." He pointed to something that appeared to be bananas hidden underneath vanilla ice cream.
"It looks just like a fanciers, richer version of Banana Split." I responded.
"Actually, not really. It's bathed in alcohol before the alcohol is burned off. It gives it a distinctive taste." He corrected me.
"I don't want a Banana Split." I yelled, grabbing for his plate.
"Fine." He gave in, switching plates with me.
"Hey, Sark." I began uncertainly.
"Yes?" he answered, reaching for another bite.
"What you said before, about me fluctuating. Why do I do that?" I questioned.
"My best guess? You're not really fluctuating. You're in an actual stage of grief where the other emotions lie beneath the surface. Maybe your accessing them at times." He answered. "Hell if I know. I never took a day of psychology in my life."
~~~Steve's POV~~~
I watched Sydney and Sark on top of the roof, while I dialed a number that I knew by heart.
"You took so long I thought you were dead." A voice greeted me.
"Nice to hear from you too, Irina." I responded.
"Anything new?" she asked, getting straight to the point.
"Sark was on the ship." I informed her. "But he wasn't by himself. He was with some girl."
"Explain." she demanded.
"She's in high school." I clarified. "Claims her name is Samantha Ashley Shoemocker."
"So?" Irina asked with a hint of boredom.
"So, Samantha Ashley Shoemocker died 12 years ago." I informed her.
A/N: Not the best chapter so far, but I really needed to get a chapter out. So, there you go. Comments about it? Promise actual Sarkney coming up, along with Sark helping her emotionally, more answers and finally.... more questions.
A/N: If you're thinking, 'finally, an update,' well then you would be correct.
Dedication: This chapter is dedicated to my home country, Trinidad and Tobago, for kicking so much ass in their first World Cup ever in this year's 2006 FIFA World Cup. Get some!
Previously on Wasted Time:
I buckled myself in and pressed lightly on the gas and screamed. "Holy felgercarb!" I yelled, pushing on the breaks. I put it in park and laid on the steering wheel, my whole body shaking.
"I should have warned you. The Bugatti Veyron can reach 62 mph in 2.5 seconds." Sark smirked. "Whoops."
"Yeah, whoops. I nearly had a heart attack. I think you should drive."
"No. You drive her. It'll help." he assured me.
This time when I started driving I was ready for it. I weaved my way through the normal Fort Lauderdale fast-moving traffic. I have no clue how much time passed while I was behind the wheel. At least until I turned down a street, at Sark's request. He directed me through a complicated neighborhood until at last I parked us at a beautifully decorated brick building. The edges of the windows were decorated with vines with Roses attached to them. Unrealistic, but still beautiful. On the patio, circular tables decorated the area. Inside the building was slightly darkened.
"Sark, what is this place?" I questioned.
"I've found a fair trade off for helping you." He responded.
"But you didn't really help me." I insisted.
"I did a much better job fulfilling my promise than you have." he pointed out.
"So?" I asked.
"So go out to dinner with me."
"One head cannot contain all wisdom." -- "The Olduvai Cycle", Systems University Archives.
Andromeda, episode # 114 Harper 2.0
The wind blew past us, picking up stranded leaves and allowing them to know the brief sensation of flying before they were dropped back onto the ground again. Save for that rustling sound and the low volume of people engaged in private conversations, the road was eerily quiet.
Sark remained silent, awaiting my answer. After a minute, he gazed out of the car window to the one-story building I had driven us to. His fingers tapped an unknown beat on the car door while he awaited my answer.
I sat there, listening to the persistent rumbling of my stomach while I considered it.
"Well it's not bloody brain surgery." he spat out.
"Khaki pants, red flip flops, and a red shirt?" I questioned. "This place doesn't look like it accepts my current choice of attire."
However, my stomach grumbled at my protest. It was demanding, in the same demeanor as a 6 month old, to be fed.
Looking at me, he cocked an eyebrow upwards at this sound.
"Fine." I acquiesced with a defeated sigh. "But you foot the bill."
I opened the door and considered slamming it for a second, but one glance at the beauty of it in the setting sun convinced me otherwise. I closed it softly, enjoying the elegant click it ensued in.
"Sark?" I called, glancing around for him but coming up with nothing. I mumbled under my breath, "The guy disappears more than Houdini."
However, a quick walk to the other side of the car revealed that he was still sitting inside.
"You plan on coming out?" I asked, coldly. "Or perhaps you intend to eat the interior of your car."
"I'm glad to see your manners are still intact." He retorted. "Aren't you supposed to open my door now?"
"No," I shook my head. "I think this is where I kick you in the balls if you don't get out."
He pondered this for a moment before he stepped out of the car and turned the alarm on.
I followed him inside of the restaurant where a tall brunette Russian man dressed in a suit behind a wooden podium asked us for our reservations. The inside of the building was decorated in shades of red.
"Oh, I didn't- just-they didn't- follow me." The man stumbled along after he saw us.
He led us up a long, winding flight of stairs.
"Stairs?" I mouthed to Sark who refused to acknowledge my question.
"Here we are." the man smiled, opening the door to the... roof.
At least that’s what it used to be. It had now been transformed into another floor of the restaurant with green and black marble tiling. 3 petite circular tables occupied the space along with an area for a band and a small 10' x 12' dancing area. Flowers decorated the edges of the building, giving it a florid appearance. On one of the tables, on top of the silk white tablecloths were appropriate silverware, a rose, candles and note. The man helped me to my seat and pointed Sark to his.
"Here are your menus." He handed us red and black engraved menus that has been laminated.
"They smell like..." I began. "...lilies."
"You know, that's the fastest anyone's ever acknowledged that." the man smiled. He pulled out an oblong blue plastic device from his pocket..
“Did I win that?” I joked.
"Almost, press this button when you're ready to order. When you see this light go off and it vibrates, that means that your food is done and I'm on my way. If, afterwards, you would like anything else, feel free to press the button again." He spoke with the confidence of a man who had been repeating the same phrase for years.
"Well, thank you... Farid?" I began, unsure of how to pronounce his name.
"Farid. It's pronounced Fa-reed." He corrected me.
"I'm sorry." I smiled in embarrassment.
"I could never be mad at someone as beautiful as you." He took my hand into his and kissed it briefly before replacing it. With a bow he was gone back downstairs.
After browsing through the menu for a few minutes I knew what I wanted.
"So, I'm guessing that this is an expensive place." I noted.
"What makes you say that?" Sark questioned, searching through his menu.
"The prices aren't listed; which suggests that if you have to ask how much money it is, you can't afford it."
"Most likely." he responded.
"Are you done?" I asked. Without waiting for his reply I pressed the button.
In less than a minute Farid had arrived at our tableside. "What would you like to eat?"
"I will have a sliced top Sirloin steak in Portobello sauce and for desert, your delicious Tiramisu."
"And what drink would you enjoy?" Farid questioned.
"The best wine you own." Sark answered without hesitating.
"And for the lady?" Farid began, turning to me.
"I would like some Filet Mignon and for desert I will try some of your Banana Foster." I smiled.
"And what drink would strike your fancy?" he questioned.
"She will take some Apple Cider." Sark interrupted.
I scoffed, softly. "Well, excuse the hell out of me. I think I can decide what I would like the drink without your help."
"I don't think so. It doesn't seem like you've been doing a hell of a job so far." He snarled.
I glared at him.
"Miss?" Farid began, unsure of how to respond.
"I'll take the apple cider." I spoke softly.
Farids’s brown eye's reflected his sympathy towards my situation. Even though he knew very little of it.
"I'll be back later with your food." he promised us, whisking away our menus.
"You amaze me." Sark began.
I chose, instead of responding, to read the note left on our table. It welcomed us to the restaurant and things along that line.
"How someone can shift, so fluently" he accenciuated, "between the stages of grief is amazing."
I decided to not respond to this.
And, until the arrival of our food, silence ensued.
I gazed down at my beautiful dish and tried not to cry. The dish reminds me of so many things. It reminds me of Vaughn, of Francie, and of Danny. It reminds me of my past and all that I have lost. And so, in an effort to hide the tears that threaten to fall, I lean my head on my half-opened fist. Despite my effort, tears soon spoil the perfectly cooked Filet Mignon.
Sark remains quiet, eating his Sirloin steak.
When the tears threaten to get out of hand, I speak up in a shaky voice. "I have to go to the bathroom."
Sark glances up, this time, noticing that something's wrong.
"You are the only person I know who can take away the enjoyment of eating a perfectly prepared Sirloin steak."
I stare down at my food, ashamed. "Can I ask you something? You loved her didn't you? How did you deal with the death of Lauren?"
"Like she was gone. Nothing to fret about." he lied.
I stared him in the eye. "No, you didn't."
He stood up silently and moved around the table, sliding into my chair and enclosing me in a tight hug.
"You get over it. You have to. Otherwise it kills you." he whispers into my ear. "But most of all, you can't look on the bright side. It makes it worse."
He must have held me for 15 minutes before his phone rang. He made a move to disentangle himself but thought otherwise.
"Sark." He greeted the person.
I couldn't quite make out what the person's response was.
"I can't talk right now, I'll get back to you tonight." With that he turned off his phone and pocketed it, to the best of his abilities.
"That's a first." I began softly.
"What?" he questioned, repositioning me in his arms so that I had more room.
"Don't look on the bright side?" I asked him.
"It makes it worse. You tend to hide your feelings from other people so that they think that you're better. If they think that you're better, they can't help you; if you take so much time convincing them that you're better, you're only going to prolong the recovery process." he replied, matter-of-factly. "You just take the pain, without the alcohol. And you push it into something else. Like exercise and completing missions. Things that are beneficial to you anyways. Then the pain starts to dull until one day you don't feel it anymore. And then that will hurt you. Soon, that feeling goes away. And all you feel is calm, and complacent with a hint of sadness."
"No." I pushed at him. "That's not how I've ever dealt with it. I've gone through the death of loved ones before; several, in fact."
"This time is different. You've never experienced this. Perhaps, you don't know what to do. You are already amazing at hand to hand combat, lingual skills, lying, typing, physically demanding things, education, helping others, etc. You can't be good at everything." Sark pointed out.
"You said it yourself, I know how to help others, I am great at solving problems, I should be able to..." I trailed off.
"You're not allowed to know everything. One head cannot contain all wisdom." He whispered.
“But I want to…” I whispered.
I could hear a throat being cleared as I looked up.
"Your desserts." Farid smiled at me, setting them down before us.
I grabbed a fork digging into the wonderfully prepared stylish cake-like dessert.
"What are you doing?" Sark asked.
"Eating. "I answered, after swallowing a bite.
With a gentle tug at my fork, Sark pulled it out of my hand. "Eating my Tiramisu."
I gave him a sheepish smile.
"That is your Banana Foster." He pointed to something that appeared to be bananas hidden underneath vanilla ice cream.
"It looks just like a fanciers, richer version of Banana Split." I responded.
"Actually, not really. It's bathed in alcohol before the alcohol is burned off. It gives it a distinctive taste." He corrected me.
"I don't want a Banana Split." I yelled, grabbing for his plate.
"Fine." He gave in, switching plates with me.
"Hey, Sark." I began uncertainly.
"Yes?" he answered, reaching for another bite.
"What you said before, about me fluctuating. Why do I do that?" I questioned.
"My best guess? You're not really fluctuating. You're in an actual stage of grief where the other emotions lie beneath the surface. Maybe your accessing them at times." He answered. "Hell if I know. I never took a day of psychology in my life."
~~~Steve's POV~~~
I watched Sydney and Sark on top of the roof, while I dialed a number that I knew by heart.
"You took so long I thought you were dead." A voice greeted me.
"Nice to hear from you too, Irina." I responded.
"Anything new?" she asked, getting straight to the point.
"Sark was on the ship." I informed her. "But he wasn't by himself. He was with some girl."
"Explain." she demanded.
"She's in high school." I clarified. "Claims her name is Samantha Ashley Shoemocker."
"So?" Irina asked with a hint of boredom.
"So, Samantha Ashley Shoemocker died 12 years ago." I informed her.
A/N: Not the best chapter so far, but I really needed to get a chapter out. So, there you go. Comments about it? Promise actual Sarkney coming up, along with Sark helping her emotionally, more answers and finally.... more questions.
KAliasGirl
Cadet
great chapter
AliasSydney502
Cadet
hahahahaahahahhahahah!!! :lol:
grrr.
