Author's Notes: No, I'm not stopping "Usual Adventures", but I thought I'd
write another Sark and Sydney story. This one is less of them in a romance
sense, but more humor (at least I'm trying to be). Reviews are great, tell
me if I should continue this story or throw it out in the trash! It was
inspired by the fact I thought it would be funny if it were to happen on
the show!
Disclaimer: The characters are owned by ABC and their "people" and trust me, I'm not one of them.
It was a rather normal day at SD-6. When I say normal, I should clarify that to say I just sat around and analyzed reports and had a meeting with Sloane, another with Marshall, and was made aware of a mission I have to go on in a week and a half. Otherwise, it was slow and nothing too exciting was happening. I didn't have to rush out to the CIA yet, so I stayed later than normal and got all my work caught up.
It was six p.m. when I realized how late I was actually there. The one place I truly despise on the face of the Earth and I was staying late for a change. I saw a few other people left, but since it was a Friday a few people had gone home early. What had I left to look for on my fun and exciting Friday night was a movie. Exciting, isn't it?
I scanned the room and saw that Marshall was still in his office, but what intrigued me more was that Sark was still left in the building. He was sitting at a desk reading something and looked very content in what he was doing. Interesting.
I finished what report I was working on and got my things to go. I headed out to go and headed towards the elevator and was greeted by a pleasant surprise.
"Ah, leaving as well, Ms. Bristow?" the cocky British accent asked me from behind.
"Just my luck that I get to ride the elevator with you, isn't it?" I reply back.
"But the pleasure's all mine," he answers.
We wait in silence and the elevator arrives to take us up to the lobby and we were not very far up when the elevator came to a crashing stop and blacked out.
"What's going on?" I ask in panic.
"Your guess is as good as mine," his British accent replies.
"If SD-6 has been put into lock down mode, the lights should have returned and the elevator should return back to the sub-level."
"Yet, we both sit here in darkness hoping that we can be returned to life once again," he adds.
"Funny," I reply back with my death stare.
"What are we going to do?" I then ask.
"Well, I suppose we'll wait a minute or two and if it does not work, we'll crawl out of the top," he decides.
"Great," I say and sit down for a second.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Sitting down," I reply.
"Why?" he asks.
"Because, frankly, I'd rather not stand," I tell him.
He looks down at me and gives me a disgusted look and we decide to not talk anymore just through neither of us speaking.
I looked at my watch and 10 minutes have passed. I look around and it still was not looking good. I had escaped from this elevator before, but didn't really want to with Sark as my helper, plus I was hoping that I wouldn't have to.
He finally gets in and sits down on the floor with me. It's funny actually, because I saw it as a win for me, personally. So the games were on, Sydney 1, Sark 0.
"You know, I think if you actually took the time to care, you wouldn't find me as repulsive," he begins.
"Oh really? So you're saying, if I let you, how do we say it, open up to me, I would be able to see past the whole killing innocent people and everyone you come in contact thing?" I reply back.
"Alright, we're playing that game I see," he says stunned at my response.
"You know what? What is your deal? Since I see we have some time to kill, how about you tell me what you've got up? Seriously, you ask me to work with you while we were in Russia--"
"You know, the offer still stands," he interrupts.
"I'd rather kill myself, anyway, and then you try to get under my skin by saying you learned a lot from my mother, who really isn't my mother at all, so what's your point?" That took a lot more energy to say, I do admit. He kind of looked a little intrigued.
"Ah Sydney, I'm glad we got our anger out. Now we can really talk."
I roll my eyes at him and sigh heavily and try to move to make myself more comfortable. My back was hurting and it wasn't a good thing at all.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Did I say I wasn't?"
"No, it look's like your back is in a lot of pain," he says.
"Seriously, I don't need your pity right now, my back is fine," I remark back.
"Turn around," he says.
"Excuse me?" I question.
"Just turn around," he forces me too.
At that point, he starts giving me a massage, and frankly, I thought it was a little weird, but it sure felt good so I wasn't about to complain.
"What, are you a masseuse on the weekend? Probably got some resume. Assassin during the week, back specialist on the weekends for the on the go spy," I laugh.
"What, do you enjoy to listen to your own voice?" he asks.
"No, but you sure do," I reply. I think I was getting giddy at this point. I was not exactly liking the closeness of the walls of the elevator and they seemed to get smaller and smaller. Soon, I was going to bust out of here.
"So when are we going to go up through the ceiling?" I ask him.
"It won't work," he says.
"I've done it before," I inform him.
"Was it down at the bottom floor?" he asks me.
I reluctantly slur the words out, "Yes."
"Exactly, even if we did get out, there's not a passage to climb to and we don't have the equipment to go on the cables," he informs me. He's actually very smart.
"You want to go up there for a breather in a minute?" I ask. "It can be our balcony."
"How about you stay down here. You're getting giddy," he says. Interestingly enough, I did agree.
"Wait, you got me off my lashing out!" I just realized he had some how totally got us off of my entire rant.
"Yes, I can do that rather well, can't it?" he mutters in response.
"How about some answers?" I ask him.
"Fine, I'll tell you one thing for every ten minutes we're in here," he says.
"Wait, I just realized I haven't tried to use my cell phone," I interrupt.
"Now look at who's getting off topic?" he adds. "I've already tried. Something with the elevator is screwing up the signal."
"Alright, question number one, then," I state.
"Question away," he adds.
"Why are you working for SD-6 now?" I ask him.
"Oh no, Miss Bristow, not so fast. Smaller questions, we have to gain trust first," he says. That's crap.
"Fine then, what's your first name?" I then ask.
"I'm not telling you," he says.
"What? You said you would my answers, yet your dodging every response.
"Fine, then, my first name is Andrew," he tells him finally.
"Andrew, it's nice," I tell him.
"Yes, but it doesn't matter," he says. We sit there for a few minutes in silence. I started formulating other questions, but was drawing a blank. How did it occur that I would get trapped in an elevator with I think the worst person in the world? Fate is not on my side.
"You know, Ms. Bristow, if you get to ask a question, I think it's only fair that I get to as well," he says.
"Fine, go ahead," I reply. I'll just pull a "I'm not going to answer that" if need be.
"Favorite flower?" he asks.
"That's it? No, in-depth questions that will give away a part of my morals or something?" I reply.
"That's it, no catch," he informs me. Very interesting.
"Well, if you really want to know, it's the Gerber Daisy," I tell him.
"Good choice," he remarks and starts fiddling with his hands.
"Oh really? Now you're a florist too!" I add. "Why'd you want to know anyway?"
"Most women I've met always knew what their favorite flower is. They say that it's the flower they will demand at their wedding, etc, etc. I've woman I've met I ask them that," he informs me.
"Well, in that case, what's my mother's favorite?" I ask him. Let's see if Sark is as smart as he is trying to play.
"She enjoys Lilacs, if you were wondering," he tells me. Wow, he's good. He knows his stuff.
We both pause a second, deciding whether or not to continue the subject of my mother. We both opt out of discussing it and I find something more suitable.
"Doesn't it seem like the walls are closing in on us?" I ask him.
"Are you going crazy?" he replies.
I laugh at that. "No, I'm not going crazy, it's just that the longer I sit here, the smaller this elevator is getting."
"Somebody needs some oxygen," he mutters.
"I heard that."
"I'm sure you did," he says.
"Being here, it just makes me feel even lonelier," I tell him. Why was I getting open with this man, of all people?
"What do you mean, Ms. Bristow?" he asks.
"Stop that, call me Sydney, please," I tell him.
"Okay, Sydney," he says and smiles.
"It's just, this life, you of all people, should know how lonely it is, and before I left, I realized there wasn't much point in leaving, because I would just go home and sit around and watch Nick at Night or something lame like that, and it's just like, what has my life come too?" This point, I start to cry and I rub my hands in my face and Sark is right new to me, stroking a hand through my hair and soon enough I grab him and hug him.
It was the sweetest thing anyone's done it awhile.
~Where should I go? Did you like the first chapter? Please tell me in a review!~ Masquerade
Disclaimer: The characters are owned by ABC and their "people" and trust me, I'm not one of them.
It was a rather normal day at SD-6. When I say normal, I should clarify that to say I just sat around and analyzed reports and had a meeting with Sloane, another with Marshall, and was made aware of a mission I have to go on in a week and a half. Otherwise, it was slow and nothing too exciting was happening. I didn't have to rush out to the CIA yet, so I stayed later than normal and got all my work caught up.
It was six p.m. when I realized how late I was actually there. The one place I truly despise on the face of the Earth and I was staying late for a change. I saw a few other people left, but since it was a Friday a few people had gone home early. What had I left to look for on my fun and exciting Friday night was a movie. Exciting, isn't it?
I scanned the room and saw that Marshall was still in his office, but what intrigued me more was that Sark was still left in the building. He was sitting at a desk reading something and looked very content in what he was doing. Interesting.
I finished what report I was working on and got my things to go. I headed out to go and headed towards the elevator and was greeted by a pleasant surprise.
"Ah, leaving as well, Ms. Bristow?" the cocky British accent asked me from behind.
"Just my luck that I get to ride the elevator with you, isn't it?" I reply back.
"But the pleasure's all mine," he answers.
We wait in silence and the elevator arrives to take us up to the lobby and we were not very far up when the elevator came to a crashing stop and blacked out.
"What's going on?" I ask in panic.
"Your guess is as good as mine," his British accent replies.
"If SD-6 has been put into lock down mode, the lights should have returned and the elevator should return back to the sub-level."
"Yet, we both sit here in darkness hoping that we can be returned to life once again," he adds.
"Funny," I reply back with my death stare.
"What are we going to do?" I then ask.
"Well, I suppose we'll wait a minute or two and if it does not work, we'll crawl out of the top," he decides.
"Great," I say and sit down for a second.
"What are you doing?" he asks.
"Sitting down," I reply.
"Why?" he asks.
"Because, frankly, I'd rather not stand," I tell him.
He looks down at me and gives me a disgusted look and we decide to not talk anymore just through neither of us speaking.
I looked at my watch and 10 minutes have passed. I look around and it still was not looking good. I had escaped from this elevator before, but didn't really want to with Sark as my helper, plus I was hoping that I wouldn't have to.
He finally gets in and sits down on the floor with me. It's funny actually, because I saw it as a win for me, personally. So the games were on, Sydney 1, Sark 0.
"You know, I think if you actually took the time to care, you wouldn't find me as repulsive," he begins.
"Oh really? So you're saying, if I let you, how do we say it, open up to me, I would be able to see past the whole killing innocent people and everyone you come in contact thing?" I reply back.
"Alright, we're playing that game I see," he says stunned at my response.
"You know what? What is your deal? Since I see we have some time to kill, how about you tell me what you've got up? Seriously, you ask me to work with you while we were in Russia--"
"You know, the offer still stands," he interrupts.
"I'd rather kill myself, anyway, and then you try to get under my skin by saying you learned a lot from my mother, who really isn't my mother at all, so what's your point?" That took a lot more energy to say, I do admit. He kind of looked a little intrigued.
"Ah Sydney, I'm glad we got our anger out. Now we can really talk."
I roll my eyes at him and sigh heavily and try to move to make myself more comfortable. My back was hurting and it wasn't a good thing at all.
"You okay?" he asks.
"Did I say I wasn't?"
"No, it look's like your back is in a lot of pain," he says.
"Seriously, I don't need your pity right now, my back is fine," I remark back.
"Turn around," he says.
"Excuse me?" I question.
"Just turn around," he forces me too.
At that point, he starts giving me a massage, and frankly, I thought it was a little weird, but it sure felt good so I wasn't about to complain.
"What, are you a masseuse on the weekend? Probably got some resume. Assassin during the week, back specialist on the weekends for the on the go spy," I laugh.
"What, do you enjoy to listen to your own voice?" he asks.
"No, but you sure do," I reply. I think I was getting giddy at this point. I was not exactly liking the closeness of the walls of the elevator and they seemed to get smaller and smaller. Soon, I was going to bust out of here.
"So when are we going to go up through the ceiling?" I ask him.
"It won't work," he says.
"I've done it before," I inform him.
"Was it down at the bottom floor?" he asks me.
I reluctantly slur the words out, "Yes."
"Exactly, even if we did get out, there's not a passage to climb to and we don't have the equipment to go on the cables," he informs me. He's actually very smart.
"You want to go up there for a breather in a minute?" I ask. "It can be our balcony."
"How about you stay down here. You're getting giddy," he says. Interestingly enough, I did agree.
"Wait, you got me off my lashing out!" I just realized he had some how totally got us off of my entire rant.
"Yes, I can do that rather well, can't it?" he mutters in response.
"How about some answers?" I ask him.
"Fine, I'll tell you one thing for every ten minutes we're in here," he says.
"Wait, I just realized I haven't tried to use my cell phone," I interrupt.
"Now look at who's getting off topic?" he adds. "I've already tried. Something with the elevator is screwing up the signal."
"Alright, question number one, then," I state.
"Question away," he adds.
"Why are you working for SD-6 now?" I ask him.
"Oh no, Miss Bristow, not so fast. Smaller questions, we have to gain trust first," he says. That's crap.
"Fine then, what's your first name?" I then ask.
"I'm not telling you," he says.
"What? You said you would my answers, yet your dodging every response.
"Fine, then, my first name is Andrew," he tells him finally.
"Andrew, it's nice," I tell him.
"Yes, but it doesn't matter," he says. We sit there for a few minutes in silence. I started formulating other questions, but was drawing a blank. How did it occur that I would get trapped in an elevator with I think the worst person in the world? Fate is not on my side.
"You know, Ms. Bristow, if you get to ask a question, I think it's only fair that I get to as well," he says.
"Fine, go ahead," I reply. I'll just pull a "I'm not going to answer that" if need be.
"Favorite flower?" he asks.
"That's it? No, in-depth questions that will give away a part of my morals or something?" I reply.
"That's it, no catch," he informs me. Very interesting.
"Well, if you really want to know, it's the Gerber Daisy," I tell him.
"Good choice," he remarks and starts fiddling with his hands.
"Oh really? Now you're a florist too!" I add. "Why'd you want to know anyway?"
"Most women I've met always knew what their favorite flower is. They say that it's the flower they will demand at their wedding, etc, etc. I've woman I've met I ask them that," he informs me.
"Well, in that case, what's my mother's favorite?" I ask him. Let's see if Sark is as smart as he is trying to play.
"She enjoys Lilacs, if you were wondering," he tells me. Wow, he's good. He knows his stuff.
We both pause a second, deciding whether or not to continue the subject of my mother. We both opt out of discussing it and I find something more suitable.
"Doesn't it seem like the walls are closing in on us?" I ask him.
"Are you going crazy?" he replies.
I laugh at that. "No, I'm not going crazy, it's just that the longer I sit here, the smaller this elevator is getting."
"Somebody needs some oxygen," he mutters.
"I heard that."
"I'm sure you did," he says.
"Being here, it just makes me feel even lonelier," I tell him. Why was I getting open with this man, of all people?
"What do you mean, Ms. Bristow?" he asks.
"Stop that, call me Sydney, please," I tell him.
"Okay, Sydney," he says and smiles.
"It's just, this life, you of all people, should know how lonely it is, and before I left, I realized there wasn't much point in leaving, because I would just go home and sit around and watch Nick at Night or something lame like that, and it's just like, what has my life come too?" This point, I start to cry and I rub my hands in my face and Sark is right new to me, stroking a hand through my hair and soon enough I grab him and hug him.
It was the sweetest thing anyone's done it awhile.
~Where should I go? Did you like the first chapter? Please tell me in a review!~ Masquerade