Started July 2009
Eya: Pandemonium
Title: Eya: Pandemonium (Part One through Part Three)
Author: Cadeeo
Ship: Sarkney
Disclaimer: I own nothing. The whole thing belongs to the people who had the awesome mind to create such an awesome show. All the characters you recognise within belong to Bad Robot and the creator of Alias.
Summary: Consider it Part One point Five of Eya. This three-parter tells the story of the time Julia was taken prisoner for being affiliated with Mr Sark. Introducing Pandemonium and agents Harris and Nancy 'Quincy' Quin.
A/N: Rated R for actions and thoughts for safety. Will be dealing with somewhat explicit torture and religion.
Our bodies do not belong to us. We have our minds, our safe haven. When we loose our minds, we loose ourselves.
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Coast of Costa Blanca, Spain
Harris leaned back in his chair and took a large swig of his ice-cold water. ,,Have we identified the woman, luv?'' he asked the woman by his side.
,,Not even close,'' Quincy said and shook her head. ,,She's continues to be a bloody ghost!''
They watched as the blonde woman ducked under the water in the large saltwater pool. The sun was high and even international terrorists had been lured by the promise of the cool water.
Blondie, as Harris and Quincy had named her, was Mr Sark's unidentified partner. She was tall, muscled and graceful. She could make you notice her in a second and then be invisible in the next. You wouldn't think she was what she was. But there were no doubts; she was a spy, trained like Mr Sark.
When the two MI6 agents had started hunting Mr Sark for his affiliation with The Man and later Arvin Sloane, they had had no idea they would be sitting three years later in Spain, looking at the assassin's partner taking a swim.
They had a room with a view over the crystal clear blue ocean and the space where guests at Hotel Neptune licked sun or bathed until they turned either chocolate brown or had a similar colour to lobsters.
Quincy rose from her seat, took of her pink top and showed her well trained abdominal muscled. When Harris openly stared at her, wonder in his eyes, she smirked. ,,Just because you want to look really British, it doesn't mean I want to.''
,,I didn't say anything,'' he said.
She settled back in her chair. ,,I just want a tan.''
He smiled.
Blondie rose from the water and turned her back to them and they were shocked to discover six red scars on her back, crossing each other looking like they weren't accidental. A little girl pointed at her, but her mother turned her the other way.
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London, England
Harris let his hand graze the silver cross under his shirt, always finding it comforting. He liked the thought of someone looking over him and that was why he hadn't forsaken the Catholic Church like his brother Preston.
His wife, Sarah, was bristling around in the kitchen, making coffee before they both had to leave for work, Sarah as a kindergarten teacher and Harris at the Foreign Ministry, otherwise known as MI6.
His phone rang, shaking him out of his temporary stupor.
,,Harris,'' he barked into the phone, annoyed at being interrupted in his morning routine.
,,It's me,'' the voice of his lifelong friend and colleague, Hendricks, said. ,,Turn on your TV!''
Harris noted the seriousness of his tone and hurried to turn on the television.
,,At ten pm, English time, Mexico City was hit by what has already been named the worst act of terrorism in Mexican history, as a sort of epidemic broke loose in a Catholic Church. Eyewitnesses' state the victims burned up but left the church without a scorch mark,'' the male reporter told, a picture in the background showing the church in question.
,,They call the person responsible the Catholic Church Killer,'' Hendricks told him. ,,You better get in here bloody fast.''
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A couple of hours later, Quincy spotted the familiar blonde hair of Mr Sark making his way towards the pool. He looked out of place with the hotel guests in their bikinis and swimming trunks. He wore long trousers, but the suit jacket had been discarded in favour of a short-sleeved t-shirt.
He sat down on a chair beside Blondie who was lying on her stomach, the scars visible for all to see, and let his hand trace them one by one.
,,They fuck,'' Harris noted.
,,I couldn't have guessed,'' Quincy said sarcastically. ,,What if we tried to make 'friends' with them?''
,,Friends?'' he questioned, looking at her like she was insane. ,,You want to make friends with the man who killed my brother.''
She rolled her eyes. ,,No, you bloody fool. If we are friend-ish with them, we might have a better change of catching him.''
Harris exhaled, actually considering the possibility. He sighed, knowing Quincy knew what his answer would be.
,,I'll be smart,'' she reassured him and patted his shoulder in a comforting manner.
He nodded in answer and she went into the room.
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Quincy had grabbed her towel and found a spot not long from Blondie. A mother and child were placed beside her and the little girl was chatting away happily in English with a Texan accent.
She studied the blonde woman discreetly, while taking off her bright green shorts, showing of her golden bikini.
,,If you want to know what happened to my back, just ask.''
Quincy started, not believing Blondie had spoken to her, but Blondie turned around and looked directly at her, eyebrows high.
,,I'm sorry,'' she muttered, trying to gain her momentum. She had not planned to get in contact with her so soon, but the damage was done and she had to take advantage of the situation. Sark had also disappeared sometime while she dressed for swimming, and she was happy. She didn't think she could handle the pressure of him just yet.
,,No harm,'' Blondie said, smiling a little. She was American, but she had no accent, making her harder to trace. She might as well have been German for all Quincy knew.
,,So what did happen?'' she asked finally, letting her hand graze her back.
Blondie shrugged, looking like she couldn't care less. ,,Abusive ex-boyfriend.''
,,Oh my God!'' Quincy said, feigning astonishment. It could have been anyone, but she firmly believed Blondie must have been tortured.
,,I'm over it and married now,'' Blondie said, smiling and showing of her sparkling diamond ring.
Quincy smiled. ,,That's good.''
Blondie nodded and turned away, officially closing the conversation.
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Harris opened the door, as his partner was about to put the key card into the lock.
,,Did everything go well?'' he asked, having watched the short conversation from the balcony. It had only lasted for two minutes, but it still had him on the edge. They were trading dangerous ground here, getting in contact with their assignment, but he couldn't help but feel it was the right thing.
,,I think she's more observant than we gave her credit for previously,'' she replied, coming into the room. ,,If we're not careful, we'll be made.''
,,She didn't give you anything?'' he said and followed her into the bedroom, where they were sleeping under the alias of being newlyweds. ,,Any information?''
,,Only a bunch of bloody lies. Abusive ex-boyfriend, that sort of rubbish,'' she said, drowning a large glass of water. ,,I'm taking a shower.''
He watched her walk into the bathroom and sighed.
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Harris walked into the conference room, Hendricks in his wake. ,,Have we heard anything new?'' he asked his boss.
Cartwright looked up from his papers and nodded. ,,We've been in contact with CIA. They have credible intelligence, connecting the massacre with Arvin Sloane.''
,,Sloane did this?'' Hendricks asked.
,,No, Mr Sark,'' Cartwright replied.
,,Who is he?'' Harris asked.
,,Responsible for the FTL breakdown last year, director of operations for Irina Derevko, real son of a bitch. You're leaving for Mexico in an hour.''
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At night Quincy and Harris went down to eat dinner at the hotel restaurant that was famous for their delicate desserts.
Their eyes were instantly drawn to the blonde couple, sitting in a corner with rich possibilities to run and watch their surroundings. They were apparently in an excited argument, because Blondie was waving with her arms widely and Sark was looking extremely amused. Both were formally dressed, her in a flowery white dress and he in a dress shirt, the jacket still discarded.
As they walked nearer, a waiter leading the way, Blondie looked up and noticed Quincy. She waved them over, smiling as they approached.
,,Sit with us,'' she said. ,,My husband, Lucas, and this is…''
,,Joseph and Tania,'' Harris replied.
,,Pleasure to meet you,'' Sark said, nodding at them in turn.
Harris and Quincy looked at each other shortly, noting the way he spoke. He was famous for his British without accent, but his words were obvious. He spoke with the clipped accent of someone clearly from Scotland. The two Englishmen sat down across from the two blondes and Sark signalled for the waiter to bring extra menus.
,,My name's Grace by the way,'' Blondie said, smiling.
A silence descended over the small group while they looked over their menus. It was a surprisingly not awkward silence (Harris did a very good job of compartmentalizing his contempt for Sark) and Quincy inwardly smiled. The two blondes were making it easier than she'd thought.
,,How long are you here for, newlyweds?'' Blondie asked, breaking the silence.
,,Depends on when our work wants us back,'' Harris replied. ,,We're back and call people you see.''
She grinned. ,,I know the feeling!''
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The night had progressed well, the two couples making idle small talk concerning nothing important and revealed nothing.
Eya fell into bed at midnight with her dress still on and multiple hairpins still in her blonde hair. Sark took off his shirt and trousers, letting the air-conditioning cooling his heated skin off. He sat down on the bed, let his hand run trough his curly hair and rubbed his forehead and eyes. He had done two Covenant jobs without Eya in the last forty-eight hours and the constant stress was finally taking its toll on him.
He took her left foot and unclasped the 'chic' sandals, as she called them, and then did the same on the right. She sighed contently. He took of her dress, bra and finally the hairpins. The way her hair had been up had made it curl weirdly and he couldn't stop himself from smiling. She was truly a vision, perfection in flesh. The angry red scars on her back only added to her magnificence. They were a symbol of a new era, a symbol of them.
He fell onto the bed, stomach first and slept two seconds after, knowing Volver was next door and she was by his side.
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Sark sat up in the bed, startled awake by a door banging open and quickly followed by the sound of retching. He looked towards the bathroom and saw Eya leaning over the toilet, her skin oddly pale. He rose and quickly walked in to her and held her hair away, déjá vu coming over him. She hadn't done this since going through her heavy Pandemonium withdrawals and he narrowed his eyes in confusion.
She gasped for air and leaned her head toward the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. He crouched down behind her, supporting her the best he could.
He didn't say anything, didn't ask anything, because he knew she wouldn't want him to.
,,It's just a stomach flu,'' she told him, still pale.
He stroked her hair softly, offering support the best he could. She didn't tell him to go, so he stayed.
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Mexico City
They stood outside the church, which rose impressively over them, dark with what had happened the day before. It was still a crime scene, so it was closed of for civilians, but many had come by to place flowers and candles.
Harris stared at his surroundings, feeling like he was missing something extremely important, something he just had to know. Hendricks was talking to their contact in Mexican Intelligence to get inside to see the horrifying results of Mr Sark's work.
,,We're in,'' Hendricks said and indicated for Harris to follow the Mexican woman staring at them with a raised eyebrow.
Harris followed, his hand taking a good hold on his silver cross and he silently prayed for the victims, their families and everyone else. If the church, the almighty Catholic Church, could be hit, the world was not the place he wanted his future children to grow up in.
Piles of dust, it could simply not be described as anything else, lay around the church in random places.
,,The people burned up, but left anything else okay,'' their contact told them. ,,We have a list of people who were regulars. We have confirmed thirteen of the sixty-two… victims.''
Harris zoned out, watching something glittering by one of the benches. He looked around, noting the woman and Hendricks had gone on without him, and lifted the cross up.
He breathed in sharply, looking at a silver cross, just like the one he carried around himself. It was a gift he and his brother, Preston, had gotten when they were born, their names engraved in the back. Afraid to see what the cross would say, he hesitated, but finally turned it around.
Preston Johannes Harris, born 10-07-64
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Harris and Quincy woke the next morning, feeling the hangover from yesterday night. Harris took the first shower while Quincy groaned helplessly in the bed.
They walked down to breakfast, where they saw Sark sitting with a black-haired man. They were looking over papers, writing and erasing things, while they both ate.
,,I'm sure I saw him drinking two bottles yesterday,'' Quincy said annoyed, glancing at Sark fleetingly. ,,How on Earth does he look so… well?''
Harris shrugged and swallowed his scrambled eggs. ,,There's a reason he's known for being an enigma, I suppose.''
They sat in silence for a moment, finding comfort in their companionship. They were not together in a sexual way; Harris was separated from his wife, but clearly still in love, and Quincy was known for her living-without-attachment code, but they still enjoyed each others company, much like Marcus Dixon and Sydney Bristow had been rumoured for.
,,If we continue this… game we started, do you honestly think we would succeed?'' Harris asked.
,,If we're smart, yes I believe we will succeed,'' Quincy replied. ,,I know what happened to your brother and I know Cartwright doesn't. I truly believe we're on the right path.''
,,I hope you're right.''
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Eya came down two hours after Sark had entered the restaurant with Volver, looking overly happy. Sark knew she was making an honest attempt of looking like she hadn't spent the rest of the night retching and the early morning lying pale and powerless on the bed.
Sark had consulted with Volver and they had both agreed to take her to a private clinic in Marseilles completely loyal to Volver. Her weakness would hopefully enough be kept quiet and not reach Gregorevich's ears. If they did reach the old Doctor's ears, he would not hesitate to bring her back to the place, he used to brainwash her for months, and use her bad condition to brainwash her further. That was not an option in Sark's opinion.
,,Don't comment,'' she said to Volver, when he opened his mouth. ,,I'm okay.''
She was a good enough liar that he would believe her to an extent, whereas Sark saw right through her and knew she was suffering on an empty stomach and a thundering headache.
,,You want something to eat?'' he asked, fiddling with the files and papers on the table.
,,I'm fine,'' she said, obviously lying.
,,We're going to Marseilles at one o'clock,'' he told her.
He watched as realisation flickered across her face.
,,But…'' she began.
,,One o'clock,'' he said sternly in a tone, which broke no argument.
She sighed.
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Harris, who stubbornly remained pale as most English people did, sat under the shade while Quincy lay in the sun, her Asian skin more used to the sun. They were reading, a characteristic British thing.
A shadow fell over Quincy and she turned around and saw a man blocking the sun.
,,Am I interrupting something exiting?'' Sark said, smirking.
Harris looked away from his book.
,,Only our honeymoon,'' Quincy replied.
,,Grace asked me to tell you; we're leaving,'' Sark told them. ,,I have business which needs to be taken care off. She hopes you will continue to enjoy your stay here and recommend Restaurante Isabella three miles east of Cartagena.''
The two agents were speechless. Quincy finally swallowed. ,,Thank you. It was nice to meet you.''
Sark nodded in acknowledgement and turned around to enter the hotel building again.
,,We need to act quickly!'' Harris said as soon as Sark was out of hearing range.
,,I agree,'' Quincy said. ,,Ask the receptionist if they have left already and I'll get our weapons.''
Without further words, they were quickly moving.
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Harris was grieving and Hendricks could only stand on the sideline and watch his friend break down. He had never compartmentalised business with his family well and with his beloved brother dead… there were no words.
He trashed the safehouse, throwing plates, glasses and other breakable things into everything that would make it break.
He raged until Hendricks had enough and threw him into a nearby wall and forced his friend to listen to him.
,,What use will you be if you break down?'' he said calmly. ,,Mr Sark is responsible, him and Sloane and you are not responsible! If you play it right, you can play Cartwright into allowing you to follow Sark.''
,,Preston is dead, Corey! How on Earth am I going to play Cartwright knowing that?'' Harris yelled, voice shaking in rage.
,,Do you or do you not want revenge?''
And that was a question Harris knew the answer to.
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Having eaten as little as possible, Eya had gone back to their room trying to rest for the flight to France, but after Sark had talked to Joseph and Tania at the pool, he had found her in the bathroom again, nearly unconscious and skin sickly pale.
,,Eya?'' he asked.
She lifted her head to look at him shortly and he saw her dull eyes. ,,Hey.''
Now he was worried.
He took a deep breath and turned on the water in the bath stall. He undressed her and carried her under water, not caring he would have to change also. He rubbed her arms, stomach, back and legs trying to get some colour in her cheeks, but he had no success. She did not look well. He dried her off and placed her in the bed, while he packed the few things they had left out of their bags. They needed to get to Marseilles quick.
He took his phone and quickly dialled Volver's memorised number, telling him they needed to move two hours before their original travel plans. Julia's condition was worsening quickly and Sark was officially worried, which he didn't do very often.
,,Ten minutes, sir. I'll be there in ten minutes,'' Volver said reassuringly.
Sark took a deep breath and packed the few bathroom items they had, his hands oddly restless.
As soon as someone knocked on the door, he opened and saw Volver and Raiver standing outside. They came inside and took a good hold of Eya, who had fallen asleep, and began to carry her to the waiting limousine. Sark looked around the room one last time to make sure no evidence was left behind and found nothing, then he went down to pay.
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Quincy ran from the room, guns hidden under her jacket. She met Harris in the entrance hall and saw Mr Sark talking to the receptionist disinterestedly.
,,Where is she?'' Harris hissed.
They both looked around and Quincy spotted Blondie being supported by two men out off a smaller entrance to the side.
,,She looks sick,'' Quincy commented.
,,You take the left, I take the right,'' Harris replied.
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,,Sark!''
Sark hesitated for a second and looked up slightly, the mirror on the other side of the receptionist reflecting a rather disturbing image. Raiver and Volver were nowhere to be seen, but Eya was held up in between a man and a woman. Tanya and Joseph.
,,Tourists,'' the receptionist muttered, her accent clearly Spanish.
He smiled politely and watched Raiver appear behind the honeymoon couple. He made eye contact with Sark in the mirror and indicated he had no weapons. Sark put his hand into his left pocket, silently telling Raiver not to attack. Eya was too valuable. Raiver nodded once and disappeared out of the door to steal a faster car than the limousine.
He still hadn't turned around, but he watched Eya slowly coming to her senses and open her eyes just a bit. He reached into his jacket and found a digital camera. He handed it to the receptionist and politely asked her to take a picture of the man and the two women. She handed the camera back after having done so and Sark very slowly made his way towards the people in question.
No one around them would notice anything was wrong.
,,I take it Joseph and Tanya doesn't exist,'' Sark said coolly, letting the mask of Lucas slip away.
,,Only in our minds,'' Quincy quipped. ,,Let's put some ground rules down, shall we.''
Sark responded by putting his other hand in his other pocket.
,,Firstly, the girl goes with us. Second, if you want her out alive; you should follow us without trouble.''
,,Let us look at it from my point of view. Firstly, I could care less about the girl. She is of no importance to me. Secondly, if I walk out of here right now, you will do nothing because of civilian damage. You are federal agents, yes? Thirdly, one accident rarely comes alone,'' he said, a blank look in his features.
,,I'll take that change,'' Not Joseph said bitterly and began to reach for his weapon.
,,No, you wont. Your partner wont let you,'' Sark commented, glancing at Not Tanya. By that, he turned around and left the entrance hall.
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London, EnglandHarris entered Cartwright's office, assuming the casual behaviour he usually sported. His body ached from having had Hendricks beating sense into him after his 'minor' breakdown in Mexico.
,,Sir, I want the case,'' he said sternly.
Cartwright looked up from his paperwork. ,,The Catholic Church case?''
,,Yes.''
,,I'm not sure I should let you. I know how passionate you are about your church.''
,,Wouldn't it make me ideal, sir? I would work that much harder.''
Cartwright studied him for a long period and Harris almost began to fiddle nervously, before he bent down withdrew something and held it out to Harris. ,,Everything there is about Mr Sark, Mr Sloane and Miss Derevko, which is not much. Schedule an appointment with the Los Angeles office of the CIA, they have a particular interest in our favourite killers,'' he said dryly. ,,Bring Hendricks and Quin.''
,,Yes, sir.''
Harris walked out of his boss's office and smiled.
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Marseilles, France
,,This is bad,'' Raiver commented, watching Mr Sark pace over the security cameras.
Volver didn't comment, but leaned back in his chair.
Raiver sighed. ,,Have they been identified?''
,,They are MI6 agents, but that's it. I need more time than I have,'' Volver replied. ,,Contact Radcliffe. See if he's got anything.''
,,Yes, sir.''
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End Part One
A/N: This a separate story to Eya, containing more details of what happened in the three years I jumped over when I wrote Eya, but since Eya has another story arc, this little one allows me to do purely Sarkney with only one LA office character cameo, the rest is my own OCC that I love to develop…
Read and Review, you know the deal. I will love you for it.
Cadeeo