Believe
Chapter One
Irony
Sydney Bristow lifted her happy little boy out of the swing on the playground near the beach. She held him close but he wriggled away and went running down the playground to the slide. Sydney laughed as she watched him play. She couldn't imagine a time she had been without Rogan, but she knew it hadn't been so long ago that she couldn't even remember him. It had been a year and a half since Sloane had come to take him away from her again, to fulfill Rambaldi's prophecy for the Passenger. Sydney never knew what Rogan was supposed to do in that prophecy, but since Sloane had been killed instead of her, she wasn't worried. She and Sark had already changed the course of destiny and there was no need to fret over Rogan's. Sydney let out a small sigh at the thought of Sark. She hadn't seen him, not for a very long time. She missed him. She still loved him. And he loved her. Unfortunately, the planets never aligned for them to stay together. He was traipsing around the globe, researching The Covenant, trying to find out if it had disbanded. She was in Los Angeles, doing mostly desk work for the CIA, and playing with her lively three year old boy. Unfortunately, Los Angeles was rarely a stop for Sark's travels. She heard from him once every month, with vague details of his whereabouts and his missions. He never really told her anything and she never really told him anything. It was more of the need to hear her voice that had driven him to call her and it was her need to hear his that kept them on the phone line. Sydney heard a scream from the slide and she turned quickly to find Rogan sliding down with a look of bliss on his face. If she could be three again, without the worries of taking care of her son, or the responsibilities of being an adult and knowing her mother was evil. Simpler days.
"You looked scared. Afraid someone was coming to take him?"
Sydney whirled around at the familiar voice, and found herself face to face with Sark.
"You're-here!"
"If you're still worried about someone taking him, why are you sending him to preschool? You can't have guards there nor can you supervise him."
"He's three. Three-year-olds go to preschool."
"Three-year-olds don't typically have a world-wide terrorist organization after them."
"Since Sloane died, Rogan hasn't either."
"You're burying your head in the sand if you think The Covenant isn't still after Rogan."
"The Covenant hasn't made a move towards me or Rogan since Sloane died. The Covenant has disbanded."
"Or gone into hiding."
Sydney folded her arms and sighed loudly, showing her displeasure.
"It's lovely seeing you again, Sark."
Sark hesitated for a moment as he considered what she had said. He let a small smile appear on his face. He had jumped into the conversation about Rogan and preschool without giving Sydney a simple kiss. He hadn't seen her in a year and a half and he hadn't kissed her the second he saw her. He had a great amount of self-control and that only proved it. Besides, he wasn't even sure if Sydney still loved him. He hadn't seen her in so long. She might have grown tired of being separated from him. He had.
"Indeed."
She grunted unbecomingly, an indication of how much she hated that word. He used it often around her, typically when he didn't want to become too emotional with her. Unfortunately, it made Sydney annoyed when he used it. Sark glanced back at the playground equipment, trying to remember day when he had played on such things as a child. He'd never really been one to play games, even when he had been with his mother. He'd been an intellectual child-one who'd rather read than play on a swing. He must have been three or four the last time he'd been to a playground. Rogan was running towards them, a huge childish grin on his face.
"Mommy, Mommy, didja see?"
She bent down, offering her arms to her son. He ran into them excitedly as she asked, "Did I see what?"
"I went down with my head."
Sydney raised an eyebrow and leaned forward while clarifying his comment.
"You went down head first?"
"Mhm!"
"That's dangerous."
"He has a bit of his mother in him, then." Sark said it quietly, though he was making more of an observation than starting a conversation. The boy stared at him once he realized Sark was there and studied him. Rogan's eyes were haunting as he stared intently, to the point that Sark was becoming uncomfortable.
"Who are you?"
"I'm Mr. Sark."
"I 'member you from a long time ago."
"You were an infant the last time I saw you."
"Mommy talks about you lots when she sleeps."
Sark smiled this time, freely with a cocked eyebrow and a curious look on his face.
"Does she now?"
"Yep."
Sark ruffled the boy's hair and let the feeling of normalcy wash over him. He couldn't let it last long, he'd become attached to being near Sydney and Rogan. He couldn't let others see him with them. They would be suspicious and things could happen.
"I must leave. I simply wished to discuss Rogan's schooling with you."
"He's going to pre-school."
"I find that less than satisfactory, but I won't be able to change your
mind. Don't expect me to rescue him
when he needs it."
"I'd never presume to ask you for help, Sark."
Her comment stabbed him like a knife but he resisted reaction. He allowed himself to drink Sydney in one more moment before he turned away.
"Until next time, Sydney."
"Next time?"
"Believe."
Sark strode away without looking back. If he did, he wouldn't want to leave. Of course, Sydney didn't realize that. She simply took it as indifference. She watched him walk away from her without a kiss or hug or even a touch. Apparently Sark didn't love her much anymore. Maybe he'd found someone else. Or maybe the separation was too much for him to take. Or maybe he didn't want attachments. They were dangerous in their line of work. Sydney took Rogan's hand and squeezed it, trying her best to get her mind off of Sark.
"I think it's time to go home now, sweetie."
"Okay, Mommy." He smiled at her innocently and Sydney allowed herself to feel relieved. Rogan always cheered her up.
Sark sauntered into Irina's French style house in Quebec. Irina had moved out of her Buenos Aires mansion after her affiliation with The Covenant became common knowledge. She had a slight fear that Jack would send someone to kill her if she remained there, so she moved out of that property and didn't return to any of the properties Jack was aware she owned. Luckily, the house in Canada continued to be an excellent hiding spot for her. Most people didn't know of that house, only a handful of Irina's most trusted knew about it. Fortunately, Sark was one of those people.
"Irina?" His voice was impatient and frustrated as he searched the house for his former mentor. She wasn't anywhere to be found, which meant she must have seen him coming. He was fairly good at concealing himself, but Irina could always find him. Perhaps because she trained him. Irina was probably afraid he was after her again for betraying Sydney. Actually, he wanted to discuss Sydney with her, but not the betrayal. Sark finally opened the French doors to the balcony and found Irina there, staring over the stone railing.
"Hope you don't plan to jump, Irina. It'd be tragic."
"Tragic for whom, Julian?"
"I never pictured you for the suicidal type. I always thought it was a sign of weakness and I assumed you felt the same."
"I'm not suicidal, darling boy, I'm simply admiring the scenery."
Sark joined her at the rail silently, as he viewed the small town below him. Small towns were interesting to him. Everyone felt like they were part of something, they were a combined machine in their minds. They never felt the isolation he did. He envied that. He felt like he was lording over them, though, perched high on a hill that overlooked them. They were almost like peasants on a vassal of land from the Middle Ages. Even if he was lording over them, they had something he didn't. Meaning.
"They remind me of ants in an ant farm. Each caught up in their task of the day."
"Aren't we all?"
"Yes, but some tasks are meaningless. Our task isn't." Irina reminded him.
"Rambaldi's become somewhat obsolete since you helped me change destiny."
"Did I?"
Sark turned sharply, no longer feeling the peace he had previously. Every word Irina spoke was a clue to something and those two words set off warning bells in his head.
"The Prophecy said Sloane would kill Sydney for the Passenger. Obviously, that didn't happen."
An ironic smile appeared on Irina's face as she gripped the stone in front of her. Sark had a sinking feeling he'd been used again, for Irina's purposes. He hated that feeling of being deceived when he was with Irina. It typically meant consequences he'd never expected on the way since Irina had kept him in the dark.
"What did you do, Irina?"
He wanted to throttle her and throw her over the balcony, but he knew that would get him nowhere.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't play innocent, Irina. It
has never served you well, because everyone knows better."
"I did absolutely nothing, Julian. Don't start with crazy accusations. I did nothing."
She repeated, then changed the subject suddenly. "Speaking of my daughter, have you seen her lately?"
Sark glanced at Irina, wondering if she decided to sic her dogs on him. He was good at detecting surveillance, but Irina always hired the best.
"Why?"
"Just wondering how she and my grandson were."
Sark didn't answer her as the feeling of regret crept up inside of him. He shouldn't have come to see Irina. She wouldn't answer his questions about The Covenant. He knew that. Why he had come to Irina was beyond him. He wanted to know if The Covenant had disbanded, or if they had found away from that pesky Prophecy of Sloane killing Sydney for the Passenger. Now he wondered if that was the Prophecy at all. He'd never really known the truth about Rambaldi, just what Irina had told him. Had she left parts out? He wouldn't put it past her. She could have even molded the Prophecy to fit her wishes. Irina Derevko would do something like that.
"I have to leave."
"So soon? You just got here."
"Yes. I have some business to attend to. I wanted to touch base with you, Irina. Until another time."
He leaned in to kiss her cheek dutifully before leaving her on the balcony. She was smiling again. A different smile. On that told Sark he couldn't trust Irina anymore. What had Irina done? And what had he done by trusting her intel?