A/N: WARNING. This is completely depressing and dark and if you don't like that kind of thing turn away now! It was a challenge from a friend to write an Alias fic with the words: rain, intelligence, goal, knife and traffic. Seemed like the obvious fic to write to me. That's all I have to say on this, apart from don't hate me for all the character deaths!
It was raining.
Not that Sark noticed.
Or cared.
He had one goal and one goal only. After that…he didn't care what happened to him.
He walked down the streets rain falling like bullets into his frame. It was so dark. Like him. He thought with a dark smile.
He'd always suspected that perhaps she didn't truly love him. Now he knew for sure. What he wasn't sure about however was that he truly wanted to know.
Her face.
Her smile
Her eyes
He hated her.
He wanted it all.
His wet shoes squeaked on the stairs leading up to her apartment.
Sark's mind went to that club. Moscow. It had been a sting…to get him actually. She'd ended up in his arms.
The next few months he didn't see her, but when they met again it was like no time had passed.
God she was beautiful.
Now he knew it was all an act he felt sick.
She'd made him believe he needed redemption. That somehow he could save himself. That she would be there for him every step of the way.
The bitch.
She'd tricked him. Conned him. Julian Sark.
She was a liar…he stopped outside her door.
He could hear her laughing and instead of thrilling him it chilled his heart. She was with that fucking Boy Scout. He'd kill her in front of him. Then he'd kill the bastard.
He smiled.
"If you for one minute thought I would give up everything I had…everything I'd worked for, just for a pathetic double crossing, murderous smug bastard like you then your intelligence has been horribly overestimated"
"I love you. I thought you loved me"
"You are so pathetic. I hope you rot in here. I hate you"
She'd laughed.
She didn't laugh when she opened the door. Vaughn came at him and he stabbed him with horrific vehemence. Sydney struggled to restrain him.
"I'm going to fix you Agent Bristow" Sark gasped, out of breath from his bloody slaying
"What have you done? Look at what you've done!" wailed Sydney she crashed onto Vaughn's body sobbing.
Sark looked at her. She was pathetic now. All puppy-dog eyes and tears. As if that was going to save her. He crouched down to his haunches to her level and held her face in his bloody hands.
He shushed her softly. She was hysterical now. She wouldn't look at him. He pulled her close and kissed her once, deeply on the lips. Then he plunged the knife into her abdomen.
Sydney gasped, momentarily her body convulsed and then…she was still. She slumped in his arms and he kissed her forehead. He let go of her body and walked out of the apartment.
Sydney Bristow had paid for what she'd done. That was for sure. But who was going to make him pay? He knew that he'd forever see her beautiful face, her tears, her anger, her fear. Her hate. He couldn't live with those images stalking him for the rest of his days.
He just couldn't.
He stepped out into busy traffic. Immediately
Now he wouldn't have to see her again.