TITLE: Overture
AUTHOR: Em Meredith (emily@healthyinterest.net)
SUMMARY: "I've known about Jane since before she was born." Meant to be read following Macha's "Amnesty," but it takes place *before* Matrilineal: Materinstva.
SPOILERS: General season 2. Incorporates canon up until about Countdown.
DISCLAIMER: JJ Abrams owns these characters. He's got legal, officially sanctioned ways of torturing them. I do what I can while he's on vacation.
DISTRIBUTION: Cover Me. This fic and all previous installments live at our site (http://www.healthinterest.net/matrilineal.html).
AUTHOR'S NOTES follow the fic.
Overture
By Em Meredith
It never ceases to amaze Sark how Arvin Sloane oozed power no matter how modest his headquarters were.
Sloane is currently working out of a warehouse in the slums of Kiev. The walls are cold and grey, the room spotless, and yet somehow the stench of the alley outside seems to permeate the rooms.
Sark wonders if the ambience helps Sloane with his perpetual sneer.
As expected, Sloane doesn't even acknowledge Sark's entrance. He merely continues to stare off into the middle distance, hands folded.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Sark asks, smirking slightly. He'd found that a cheerful demeanor not only made him more likely to get his way, but it generally annoyed people. Right now he wants to annoy Sloane, if for no other reason than as retribution for summoning him to this godforsaken city, and for making him play cloak-and-dagger to conceal the trip from Irina.
"Yes," Sloane answers finally, leaning forward in his chair to pin Sark with a look. "Have a seat."
Sark takes a seat in the lone visitor's chair, stealing a glance at the file folder on Sloane's desk. The font was too small, but he'd recognize the pictures of Sydney Bristow anywhere. He dreads Irina's reaction when she hears about Sloane's surveillance. To say that she won't be pleased is rather an understatement.
"I asked you here because I've been thinking about the future," Sloane begins, leveling a cool gaze at Sark. "I'd planned for Sydney to carry on my work, but it doesn't seem likely that will happen." Sloane's voice doesn't betray even the slightest hint of disappointment.
That had been one of Irina's first lessons: Keep your voice calm and even, no matter what.
"No," Sark smiles. "It doesn't seem likely."
"You're aware, of course, of the details of my arrangement with Irina Derevko."
"And *you're* aware, of course, that my arrangement is with Irina Derevko and not with you."
"Of course," Sloane nods. "Like I mentioned, I've been thinking about the future."
"I'm not inclined to change my loyalties, either now or in the future," smirks Sark.
"No, I can't imagine that you would be, Mr. Sark. You owe her a great deal."
"I owe her rather more than that."
"I've worked for many years gathering Rambaldi artifacts and learning about his work," Sloane continues, as if Sark hadn't spoken, "and the thought that my work won't be carried on is, shall we say, distressing."
Sark arches an eyebrow at that. "Has Irina given you any reason to doubt her commitment to Rambaldi's work? She's sacrificed quite a bit for it."
"Yes, of course. But I worry about her priorities."
"If you're worried about that, Mr. Sloane, perhaps this is a conversation you should be having with her."
"No, I don't think it is." He pushes Sydney's file across the desk. "Sydney Bristow's been to the doctor twice in six weeks. After her second visit, I had my people access her file."
There is a picture of Sydney, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail, exiting a doctor's office, her distress apparent even in the grainy photo. He pushes it aside and examines the lab test report.
"Am I supposed to know what an HCG serum test is?"
"It's a pregnancy test."
Sark fights the sudden urge to get the hell out of Sloane's office as soon as possible. He's seen Irina at her most merciless and can't imagine what she'd do to Sloane when she catches wind of this.
"And you're telling me this so that I can break the news for you?" Sark shoves the file back across the desk. "I must tell you, I don't exactly relish the idea of telling my employer that you've accessed her daughter's medical files and that you're planning on using that as leverage."
"No, no, of course not. I have other plans for Sydney. And for you," Sloane adds.
"You mean you're not going to act on this now?"
Sloane leans forward conspiratorially. "Now would not be the time to use this information. You have to be patient."
"Mr. Sloane, " Sark laughs, "*I* don't need to be patient. I have no plans to get caught up in trying to outsmart Irina Derevko."
Sloane merely nods at this, as if it was the answer he was expecting all along. "Of course you don't. You're still filled with gratitude for all that she's taught you."
"And you expect that will change someday?"
"I do," he declares. "Someday you'll get tired of doing things her way. You'll want to come out from under her wing."
"I highly doubt that," Sark scoffs.
"You will, mark my words. And when you do, remember that for all of Irina's contacts in Albania and Mexico, this is the one thing that will give you power over her."
"Again, Mr. Sloane, I can't see why you're telling me this."
"I told you -- I want someone to continue my work with Rambaldi if Irina gets . . . sidetracked."
"And what makes you think that I'm the one to do that?"
Sloane leans back in his chair, a devious smile creeping across his features.
"It's simple, really," he says. "Gratitude."
"Of course." Sark's short bark of laughter echoes in the warehouse. "Well, I'll think about it, " he says pensively, standing up and heading for the door.
"That's all I ask," Sloane calls out after him.
Sark walks outside, maneuvering around the puddles in the alley as he makes his way to the street, where his car and driver are waiting.
He smiles softly to himself, thinking of the first thing Irina had taught him: never underestimate your opponent. Sloane may have had a point or two about gratitude and patience, but he doesn't realize that he hasn't only given Sark the key to bringing down Irina Derevko.
He's given Sark the key to bringing down Arvin Sloane as well.
----
END.
Feedback gratefully received at emily@healthyinterest.net.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, that's it for me-- Macha's epilogue should be posted shortly. It's been fun, y'all. I can't begin to thank you enough for the kind comments you've sent over the past couple weeks, especially all of you on the SD-1 boards (I want to particularly mention our frequent commenters: AgentBlue, Aliasphan, Aliasscape, Boyscout's Gurl, Brittany, Chrystin, Crunk8r82, Fanatic482, freedoms, Hershey, ItsADuckStupid, Jillian R., jujubinha, Old Romantic, reza, SecretAgentGirl, SydVaughn1001, and zrodezina.). Thanks also to kate, Mush, Philateley, austin, and Sprout. Mostly especially, thanks to Macha, who's been a great editor and an even greater cheerleader. This series would have been nothing if she hadn't stepped up to the plate to write Vaughn. Macha, hon, this I've never appreciated your epic tendencies more, and I think you know that's not something I'd say lightly. ;-)
AUTHOR: Em Meredith (emily@healthyinterest.net)
SUMMARY: "I've known about Jane since before she was born." Meant to be read following Macha's "Amnesty," but it takes place *before* Matrilineal: Materinstva.
SPOILERS: General season 2. Incorporates canon up until about Countdown.
DISCLAIMER: JJ Abrams owns these characters. He's got legal, officially sanctioned ways of torturing them. I do what I can while he's on vacation.
DISTRIBUTION: Cover Me. This fic and all previous installments live at our site (http://www.healthinterest.net/matrilineal.html).
AUTHOR'S NOTES follow the fic.
Overture
By Em Meredith
It never ceases to amaze Sark how Arvin Sloane oozed power no matter how modest his headquarters were.
Sloane is currently working out of a warehouse in the slums of Kiev. The walls are cold and grey, the room spotless, and yet somehow the stench of the alley outside seems to permeate the rooms.
Sark wonders if the ambience helps Sloane with his perpetual sneer.
As expected, Sloane doesn't even acknowledge Sark's entrance. He merely continues to stare off into the middle distance, hands folded.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Sark asks, smirking slightly. He'd found that a cheerful demeanor not only made him more likely to get his way, but it generally annoyed people. Right now he wants to annoy Sloane, if for no other reason than as retribution for summoning him to this godforsaken city, and for making him play cloak-and-dagger to conceal the trip from Irina.
"Yes," Sloane answers finally, leaning forward in his chair to pin Sark with a look. "Have a seat."
Sark takes a seat in the lone visitor's chair, stealing a glance at the file folder on Sloane's desk. The font was too small, but he'd recognize the pictures of Sydney Bristow anywhere. He dreads Irina's reaction when she hears about Sloane's surveillance. To say that she won't be pleased is rather an understatement.
"I asked you here because I've been thinking about the future," Sloane begins, leveling a cool gaze at Sark. "I'd planned for Sydney to carry on my work, but it doesn't seem likely that will happen." Sloane's voice doesn't betray even the slightest hint of disappointment.
That had been one of Irina's first lessons: Keep your voice calm and even, no matter what.
"No," Sark smiles. "It doesn't seem likely."
"You're aware, of course, of the details of my arrangement with Irina Derevko."
"And *you're* aware, of course, that my arrangement is with Irina Derevko and not with you."
"Of course," Sloane nods. "Like I mentioned, I've been thinking about the future."
"I'm not inclined to change my loyalties, either now or in the future," smirks Sark.
"No, I can't imagine that you would be, Mr. Sark. You owe her a great deal."
"I owe her rather more than that."
"I've worked for many years gathering Rambaldi artifacts and learning about his work," Sloane continues, as if Sark hadn't spoken, "and the thought that my work won't be carried on is, shall we say, distressing."
Sark arches an eyebrow at that. "Has Irina given you any reason to doubt her commitment to Rambaldi's work? She's sacrificed quite a bit for it."
"Yes, of course. But I worry about her priorities."
"If you're worried about that, Mr. Sloane, perhaps this is a conversation you should be having with her."
"No, I don't think it is." He pushes Sydney's file across the desk. "Sydney Bristow's been to the doctor twice in six weeks. After her second visit, I had my people access her file."
There is a picture of Sydney, her hair pulled back into a low ponytail, exiting a doctor's office, her distress apparent even in the grainy photo. He pushes it aside and examines the lab test report.
"Am I supposed to know what an HCG serum test is?"
"It's a pregnancy test."
Sark fights the sudden urge to get the hell out of Sloane's office as soon as possible. He's seen Irina at her most merciless and can't imagine what she'd do to Sloane when she catches wind of this.
"And you're telling me this so that I can break the news for you?" Sark shoves the file back across the desk. "I must tell you, I don't exactly relish the idea of telling my employer that you've accessed her daughter's medical files and that you're planning on using that as leverage."
"No, no, of course not. I have other plans for Sydney. And for you," Sloane adds.
"You mean you're not going to act on this now?"
Sloane leans forward conspiratorially. "Now would not be the time to use this information. You have to be patient."
"Mr. Sloane, " Sark laughs, "*I* don't need to be patient. I have no plans to get caught up in trying to outsmart Irina Derevko."
Sloane merely nods at this, as if it was the answer he was expecting all along. "Of course you don't. You're still filled with gratitude for all that she's taught you."
"And you expect that will change someday?"
"I do," he declares. "Someday you'll get tired of doing things her way. You'll want to come out from under her wing."
"I highly doubt that," Sark scoffs.
"You will, mark my words. And when you do, remember that for all of Irina's contacts in Albania and Mexico, this is the one thing that will give you power over her."
"Again, Mr. Sloane, I can't see why you're telling me this."
"I told you -- I want someone to continue my work with Rambaldi if Irina gets . . . sidetracked."
"And what makes you think that I'm the one to do that?"
Sloane leans back in his chair, a devious smile creeping across his features.
"It's simple, really," he says. "Gratitude."
"Of course." Sark's short bark of laughter echoes in the warehouse. "Well, I'll think about it, " he says pensively, standing up and heading for the door.
"That's all I ask," Sloane calls out after him.
Sark walks outside, maneuvering around the puddles in the alley as he makes his way to the street, where his car and driver are waiting.
He smiles softly to himself, thinking of the first thing Irina had taught him: never underestimate your opponent. Sloane may have had a point or two about gratitude and patience, but he doesn't realize that he hasn't only given Sark the key to bringing down Irina Derevko.
He's given Sark the key to bringing down Arvin Sloane as well.
----
END.
Feedback gratefully received at emily@healthyinterest.net.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, that's it for me-- Macha's epilogue should be posted shortly. It's been fun, y'all. I can't begin to thank you enough for the kind comments you've sent over the past couple weeks, especially all of you on the SD-1 boards (I want to particularly mention our frequent commenters: AgentBlue, Aliasphan, Aliasscape, Boyscout's Gurl, Brittany, Chrystin, Crunk8r82, Fanatic482, freedoms, Hershey, ItsADuckStupid, Jillian R., jujubinha, Old Romantic, reza, SecretAgentGirl, SydVaughn1001, and zrodezina.). Thanks also to kate, Mush, Philateley, austin, and Sprout. Mostly especially, thanks to Macha, who's been a great editor and an even greater cheerleader. This series would have been nothing if she hadn't stepped up to the plate to write Vaughn. Macha, hon, this I've never appreciated your epic tendencies more, and I think you know that's not something I'd say lightly. ;-)