B-13
The theatre was empty. Sydney sat, tears streaming down her face, Audrey Hepburn crossing the silver screen, her lines flowing from her tongue again, just like they have for the last 51 years. Always saying the right thing at the right time. Somehow, being here helped. She missed him so much.
Sydney thought about all the times she and Will had spent here together, all the wonderful times they had shared with the characters on the screen. Right here.
But that was forever ago now.
She thought about the times they had laughed and cried through the movies, the popcorn they had thrown at the people sitting ahead of them when they had seen a movie too many times. A sad smile crossed her lips to this memory.
She knew that he wasn't dead, but she couldn't be with him any more. That hurt. She missed him so much.
It wasn't just that, she knew. For every one else Sydney had been gone two years, but to her it had just been a few hours… maybe a few days. Vaughn was married. Marshall, dear Marshall, was expecting a baby… there were no jealous feelings there. She missed her old life, her old friends. Why? Why her?
It made her sick that the CIA had released Julian Sark… for any reason. He needed to be in custody. He needed to be… within reach. Sydney associated him with normality. He was the one constant from her past life. He was the one person who hadn't changed. His crooked smile and expensive clothing was the same now as it had been in SD-6; and strangely, that comforted Sydney. It proved to her that some things didn't change with time. He even smelled the same. Somehow, even in federal custody he retained smell of freedom and wealth and expensive cologne. A lifestyle Sydney could never afford. When they freed him, Sydney lost her one constant; now everything was variable.
Everything was falling apart. Everything. She didn't know anyone, she didn't have a shoulder to cry on, she didn't have a friend she could talk to like Will. And Julian Sark brought her a sense of normality.
He watched her. He saw her every move. He had been watching her for days, now. She hadn't seen him; she wouldn't either… not until he wanted her to. He knew, because he knew how she worked, he knew how to move so she wouldn't know, how to blend in so Sydney wouldn't see. He knew she was crying. He could see it in the movement of her hair, the way her shoulders shook, and the way she hunched slightly in her seat.
He sat forward in his chair, and placed his arms on the seat a row ahead of him. His famous crooked smile stretched across his mouth.
She would know… soon.
He knew her too well. He knew what she was going through.
Slowly, he stood, carefully, quietly. She couldn't know he was here yet. Not yet.
Somehow, he understood that in some way she needed him. He didn't understand this feeling. Every bone in his body was screaming that this was a bad idea, every muscle pulling for him to leave right now. But his brain wouldn't allow it; nor would his heart. It bothered him, this feeling; this need to know that she was safe.
Music filled the almost-empty space, and Miss Hepburn now danced across the screen with the hero in her arms. Her gown billowing about her as they twirled across the room singing and laughing.
Julian made his quiet way down the isle, stopping just behind Sydney's row, and slid silently behind her and sat quiet as a shadow. No one else was in the theatre; they were alone.
She needed something to be the same, something to remain untouched. Was it Vaughn? The memories of him stung her heart. Was it the Agency? That had changed too much, too. What was it?
She knew that she needed to do something to help the pain, the loss. It felt almost like hunger, or unquenchable thirst.
She thought she heard movement behind her, but she knew no one else was there. She had rented out the theatre for her only. There was on one else. There would be no one else. This theatre was a part of her right now, it explained what she was. Empty.
Sydney was aware of pressure on her shoulder, a light squeezing sensation. "Vaughn. You shouldn't be here." She whispered. It didn't leave. It didn't feel like Vaughn. This touch was unfamiliar. The tears came again, she felt totally empty.
"It's alright Sydney." The voice was so familiar, the scent so unique. The light clip in the accent and the way it rolled off the tongue that accompanied it could only belong to one person.
"Sark. What are you doing here?" Her voice wasn't the same sad voice that had told Michael Vaughn to leave, but an angrier more assertive voice that whispered destruction.
"Sydney-"
"You should leave."
She had no intention of taking him in. Too much time would be spent. This was her day off, and she had no intention of going into that place when she didn't have to.
"You know I can't do that."
Why was he here? Why was he doing this to her? At this moment she felt safer and more at home than she had since she returned a month ago.
"I know what you are going through, Sydney."
"How? How could you possibily know?"
"Because I know you."
She hadn't turned to look at him. She knew that if she turned he would really be there and then she would have to accept the feelings he gave her.
This wasn't fair, he was taking advantage of her, and Sydney wasn't going to allow that. "I said leave."
"Miss Bristow, I pride my self on many things. Just above being able to avoid authorities is being compassionate and chivalrous. Now, what kind of a gentleman would I be if I left you here, alone, in your hour of need?"
"The kind I want you to be." Sydney said quietly. "Now, if you please, I'm trying to watch a movie."
"No, you are wallowing in self-pity. There is a slight difference between the two."
"Julian, we do not work together any more. We never did. I don't like you. I don't want you here. Please, just go."
"Now, you are being selfish."
Sydney had just about enough of Julian Sark's attitude to last her a year at this point. She reached up with her left hand and took hold of the one he had on her shoulder, and twisted it backward. She could hear the change in his breathing as the pain increased the further she rotated the hand. "Now, you leave me alone." Sydney let go of his hand and heard him stand.
He stood knowing that if he left he would never forgive himself. He didn't know why he was here, but he knew that there was a reason. And, whatever the reason, Julian hadn't fulfilled it. He knew it; Sydney knew it. He couldn't have left if he had wanted to.
Without a word, he crossed back to the isle, and instead of making his way to the back of the theatre, he walked slowly to the row ahead.
He knew she wouldn't be happy. He wasn't happy. However, he didn't bet on being kicked in the groin. Doubled over, and gasping for breath, he saw Sydney look over at him.
"You officially really don't want me here."
"Screw you."
"That's what I thought."
After a few minutes, Julian was finally able to stand enough to sit in the chair next to Sydney.
"What do you want?"
"I just… I just needed to let you know-"
Without another word, Sark reached over, his hand cradling Sydney's cheek, and pressed his lips firmly to hers. The kiss was intoxicating. Time seemed to dissipate, seconds melted into hours, hours to weeks; it seemed not to matter. Finally, Sydney lifted her head for breath, and Julian looked into her eyes, "Do you still want me to leave?"
Fin.