She was different. Older, wiser, happy. She was happy and he could see it,
the happiness, rolling off of her in waves. She was happy and he knew that
he had given her that.
Sark had people watching her, he always had. Sark was the first to be informed when Danny was killed, when she and Will kissed, when she began to fail her classes at graduate school. Day or night, rain or shine, anywhere on the globe, the newest cell phone model in his pocket would ring, bringing the news of another event in Sydney Bristow's life.
He had always been infatuated in her, in this daughter of his employer. In his eyes, Irina Derevko was untouchable, on a pedestal, on a whole other plane of existence. But her beautiful daughter, she was different. She was young and jaded and his equal. Sark could touch her and not be afraid that he would be burned. She could be his.
And she was. She was his once, for one night. For one night he was willing to risk everything he had worked for, betraying everyone who trusted him, to have her be his. For one night she gave up, let go of everything she kept inside. For one night.
And then one day a few months later, the calls from halfway across the world stopped. The constant reminder that she was breathing stopped. Not because she was dead, but because she wasn't around for his people to watch anymore. She had disappeared. She was gone. She was hiding herself.
And she hid herself well. He looked for her, his people looked for her, and no doubt the CIA looked for her. No note, no last good-bye on her father's answering machine, no clues. Just an empty closet and canceled credit cards.
Sixteen years later, the newest cell phone model rang in his pocket. Vermont, in a quaint two story house, with a fifteen year old boy, her son, who had blond hair and striking blue eyes.
The calls from across the globe continued for two years. Bringing the news of a women who was his once, and of a son who could still be his, if she'd let him. 'Tristan took a girl to the movies today, sir.' 'Ms. Bristow smelled marijuana on Tristan's clothes this afternoon. She was 'very disappointed' in him.' 'Ms.Bristow and Tristan drove to Cornell University for the weekend to view the campus.' 'Ms.Bristow and her son ordered a pizza tonight, Mr.Sark. Half plain, have pineapple.' Sark smiled to himself as he pressed the end button. Sydney is allergic to pineapple. Sark on the other hand, loves it.
It took a moment for her to recognize him once she had opened the door. After seventeen years of absence, he looked so much different. He looked older, wiser, and weary. He looked weary of the world and all of it's inhabitants. Sydney opened the door a little wider and leaned against the frame. "After five years went by I lost faith in your tracking skills and figured that you would never find me. That or you just stopped caring about me at all."
He took a step forward to touch her but stopped as she recoiled a step inside. Away from him. "Why didn't you tell me about him, Sydney?"
She took a deep breath. "You don't..When I found out..When I found out that I was pregnant, not just with any man's child, but your's.I had to leave. I couldn't face any of them anymore. I couldn't live that life anymore."
"You could have come to me!" He blurted out.
"And what? Have our child raised around guns and bombs and Rambaldi devices? He deserved better than that. A normal damn childhood. Something that the two of us never had."
"You should have told me about him." He said more firmly. "You can't keep me out of his life forever."
"When I left LA, I left that whole life behind, and I haven't thought about it in the last seventeen years. I can't go back again. I, we, can't be with you. You can't be a part of our lives anymore."
"No, Sydney, no! I've come back here to claim what's mine. You and my son!"
"Mom?" a call came from up the stairs. "Mom, whose at the door?"
"Please Sark, if I ment anything to you at one time, if I still do, you'll leave. Just leave and don't come back."
The familiar thud thud thud of someone coming down the stair reached Sark's ears, and he saw his son for the first time. He stood with his head cocked to one side, arm resting on the banister. The arrogance and grace he exuded was undeniably and totally Sark. "He looks just like me." Sark murmured.
"Mom, is who is it?"
Sark leaned forward and said in a low voice so that only Sydney could hear him. "You will regret this, Agent Bristow."
"I regret a great many things, Sark." She whispered back, and then in a louder voice, that rang clear despite the tears that ran down her face. "No thanks, we already have car insurance."
"You can't keep him from me forever."
"I said no thanks. Good-bye, sir. ************************************************************************
A.N: I'm not sure why this was written, I don't like it very much and quite frankly, I don't care about it enough to work on it until I'm completely satisfied. I just couldn't get that scene with them at the door and Syd saying, "No thanks, we already have car insurance" out of my head.
Sark had people watching her, he always had. Sark was the first to be informed when Danny was killed, when she and Will kissed, when she began to fail her classes at graduate school. Day or night, rain or shine, anywhere on the globe, the newest cell phone model in his pocket would ring, bringing the news of another event in Sydney Bristow's life.
He had always been infatuated in her, in this daughter of his employer. In his eyes, Irina Derevko was untouchable, on a pedestal, on a whole other plane of existence. But her beautiful daughter, she was different. She was young and jaded and his equal. Sark could touch her and not be afraid that he would be burned. She could be his.
And she was. She was his once, for one night. For one night he was willing to risk everything he had worked for, betraying everyone who trusted him, to have her be his. For one night she gave up, let go of everything she kept inside. For one night.
And then one day a few months later, the calls from halfway across the world stopped. The constant reminder that she was breathing stopped. Not because she was dead, but because she wasn't around for his people to watch anymore. She had disappeared. She was gone. She was hiding herself.
And she hid herself well. He looked for her, his people looked for her, and no doubt the CIA looked for her. No note, no last good-bye on her father's answering machine, no clues. Just an empty closet and canceled credit cards.
Sixteen years later, the newest cell phone model rang in his pocket. Vermont, in a quaint two story house, with a fifteen year old boy, her son, who had blond hair and striking blue eyes.
The calls from across the globe continued for two years. Bringing the news of a women who was his once, and of a son who could still be his, if she'd let him. 'Tristan took a girl to the movies today, sir.' 'Ms. Bristow smelled marijuana on Tristan's clothes this afternoon. She was 'very disappointed' in him.' 'Ms.Bristow and Tristan drove to Cornell University for the weekend to view the campus.' 'Ms.Bristow and her son ordered a pizza tonight, Mr.Sark. Half plain, have pineapple.' Sark smiled to himself as he pressed the end button. Sydney is allergic to pineapple. Sark on the other hand, loves it.
It took a moment for her to recognize him once she had opened the door. After seventeen years of absence, he looked so much different. He looked older, wiser, and weary. He looked weary of the world and all of it's inhabitants. Sydney opened the door a little wider and leaned against the frame. "After five years went by I lost faith in your tracking skills and figured that you would never find me. That or you just stopped caring about me at all."
He took a step forward to touch her but stopped as she recoiled a step inside. Away from him. "Why didn't you tell me about him, Sydney?"
She took a deep breath. "You don't..When I found out..When I found out that I was pregnant, not just with any man's child, but your's.I had to leave. I couldn't face any of them anymore. I couldn't live that life anymore."
"You could have come to me!" He blurted out.
"And what? Have our child raised around guns and bombs and Rambaldi devices? He deserved better than that. A normal damn childhood. Something that the two of us never had."
"You should have told me about him." He said more firmly. "You can't keep me out of his life forever."
"When I left LA, I left that whole life behind, and I haven't thought about it in the last seventeen years. I can't go back again. I, we, can't be with you. You can't be a part of our lives anymore."
"No, Sydney, no! I've come back here to claim what's mine. You and my son!"
"Mom?" a call came from up the stairs. "Mom, whose at the door?"
"Please Sark, if I ment anything to you at one time, if I still do, you'll leave. Just leave and don't come back."
The familiar thud thud thud of someone coming down the stair reached Sark's ears, and he saw his son for the first time. He stood with his head cocked to one side, arm resting on the banister. The arrogance and grace he exuded was undeniably and totally Sark. "He looks just like me." Sark murmured.
"Mom, is who is it?"
Sark leaned forward and said in a low voice so that only Sydney could hear him. "You will regret this, Agent Bristow."
"I regret a great many things, Sark." She whispered back, and then in a louder voice, that rang clear despite the tears that ran down her face. "No thanks, we already have car insurance."
"You can't keep him from me forever."
"I said no thanks. Good-bye, sir. ************************************************************************
A.N: I'm not sure why this was written, I don't like it very much and quite frankly, I don't care about it enough to work on it until I'm completely satisfied. I just couldn't get that scene with them at the door and Syd saying, "No thanks, we already have car insurance" out of my head.