One of the last pieces of Sarkney that I wrote before falling pretty far from the fandom, but I have been reading some new material and I got inspired to put some of my Alias fic up here. Consider this an alternate S5, my what if, I own none of the wonderful characters, and mean no harm (except a little bit toawards Vaughan ;P). Please drop me a review they mean the world!

One year and one day since her daughter made her rather startling entry into the world, Sydney Bristow found herself admiring a gorgeous sunset from her back porch. Things were good as they were, but nor as she had ever imagined.

Her happy ending had been neither happy nor really an ending. By the time Isabelle had celebrated her 1st birthday she had buried her Mother, divorced, spent twelve hours in a Chechnyan cell, led a memorial for her Father, and married. Not all at once, nor in that order.

The past week had left her drained. Memories of how it had been, wishing for how it could have been, on top of a half a dozen toddlers took a lot out of a person. Vaughan had done little to alleviate the stress of the situation. Choosing instead to brood rather than celebrate.

His loss. She was done with feeling guilty over him. The idea of the man had been far more appealing than the reality of him. Simply turning her back on the world of espionage had been a nice dream if not wholly far fetched and Vaughan had never been able to accept that. It burned him that guns no longer aimed in his direction, merely hers. The insanity of that insecurity was not something even she could handle.

So a marriage turned into a divorce. Her eyes scanned the horizon, taking in the still new sky she now called home. Moving had been an after thought. Her whole life she had called L.A. home, and yet one night, after a particularly muggy and traffic addled day, she had looked at Isabelle and known her answer needed to be different.

Armed with a picture in her mind she had set off to find their home. The search had been neither long nor difficult, which was a blessing when one was on a quest with an infant.

Oddly enough an offhanded comment her Father made years ago had pushed her in the right direction. One evening over a quiet dinner he had smiled that smile she loved and commented on how much vacation time the government owed him.

"One of these days I'll charter a boat and with a push and a prayer I'll move across the smooth water of the keys. Then I will finally learn to fish."

They had laughed at that. The image of Jack Bristow manning the helm or chumming for his dinner was to hilarious not to chuckle over, as she did now.

Anxiously driving down the main avenue of Key West her first glimpse had been quite disappointing, too many tourists, to much noise. Thankfully a half hour past the catered cruise guests she had found her piece of heaven.

Heaven came with a price of course. The area was remote, but a lush landscape offered a warm enough greeting. Surveillance and security was tight and constant, but the white sand offered a pleasant distraction. Perhaps she could have found some place so isolated no alarms were needed, but what life is that?

Not theirs. No, their lives were simple. They lived quietly, she knew what few neighbors she had by name, and thrice weekly she spent the afternoon at Mommy & Me. Simply put she was finally settled. Even with the occasional mission Dixon tossed her way, which she had to admit she enjoyed, things were good.

"A penny for you thoughts?"

Tossing a glance over her left shoulder, she smiled at the lean figure resting in the doorway. Yes, things were good and about to get so much better.

"Only a penny? I know you are worth so much more."

Pocketing his sunglasses he raised an eyebrow at her. So she wanted to play. Well this was a pleasant change. It usually took an hour or so for her to warm to him if he arrived unannounced.

"Am I then? It's good to know you care so much Sydney."

Rolling her eyes she flipped her curls back over her shoulder and cast her attention back to her daughter's sand antics. With enough sunscreen to keep a Bedouin pale, she knew there was little chance the sun could harm her, but there were so many other threats near the shore.

"I am quite sure you know your worth Sark. Confidence was one area you never lacked."

His laugh rang over her. It had become a familiar sound and that was a warm thought. No doubt he had shared that sound with others, but she liked to think it was hers alone.

Keeping his rebuttal silent he stepped out onto the deck, the sea air caressed his cheeks. Out of habit quick eyes scanned the beach, checking for what shouldn't be there.

He liked her place, the little spot of Earth she had carved out. All was as it should be, Isabelle played noisily in the sand. She was far enough away to be free yet close enough that either of them could reach her in three strides.

Fingering the small box that had weighed so heavily against his chest, he transferred it to the left pocket of his slacks before removing his jacket. Carefully draping said linen over the back of his chair, always to her left, he sat.

Sitting quietly, admiring the scenery with Julian Sark had never figured into her plans. Until Chechnya she had thought of him only as an adversary, one whose loyalties were as fickle as the tide. Chechnya had changed that opinion and so much more.

"Everything went well yesterday?"

Smiling as she thought of the screaming toddlers, she nodded.

"Yes. I think Isabelle enjoyed it. I can hardly believe a year has passed."

A year ago he had gotten the call, been debriefed on the event, received the photos, and yet he could hardly believe it to be true. Sydney Bristow was a Mother to a beautiful little girl.

"You know I came to Los Angeles after I found out, had to see if it was true with my own eyes."

Once upon a time the idea would have infuriated her. Being watched, being spied upon, but now all she had for him was a smile.

"I suspect you weren't the only one who was curious."

Glancing to her right, she studied his profile with a small smile. There it was, the slight frown, the flexing right hand. Little tells that spoke so very loudly.

"No I don't suppose I was."

'Twas a good thing he wore green so well. Smiling fully now, she reached for the pitcher of ice tea that sat between them. Deliberately brushing her fingers against his as she handed him a glass, she deliberately avoided his gaze as well. Settling back her eyes cut back towards her daughter.

Sipping the tea, he wondered not for the first time what the hell he was doing here. The woman drove him absolutely mad. Pushing, pulling, and getting under his skin like no other. She made him feel, well, that was the sum of it, she simply made him feel.

"Izzie…"

The warning tone of her voice halted the toddlers' actions, even as he opened his mouth to scold her once again on the absurdity of that particular endearment.

"I don't want to hear it 'Jules'."

Mouth snapping shut, he rolled his shoulders.

"You were the one who encouraged that."

When the frequency of his visits had become more, permanent, they had decided she would take care not to call him Sark in front of Isabelle. Repetition of that particular name could cause the wrong sort of problems for them. Julian had been the next logical choice. The shortened version had happened quite by accident, something to do with a walk and a nosy. Sydney of course had done nothing to dissuade it. As though she read his mind the smirk spread across her lips.

"What can I say? She is as stubborn as a Bristow can get."

That she was indeed.

"Isabelle Julia Bristow. You stop that right now."

With a tiny fist full of sand, Sark watched as the child struggled to do as she was told or continue the rather messy game of sand shampoo. The battle of wills raging between mother and daughter happened often and was a continual source of his amusement.

"That's what I thought."

Tossing the sand, Isabelle broke the gaze her Mother still had on her, turning her attention to the newcomer.

"Jules! Jules!"

Laughing now Sydney watched her daughter set out as fast as she could for the man next to her. Regardless of the sand that covered nearly every inch of her skin, hair and clothes Sark picked up the child the moment she reached his side.

"She asked for you yesterday."

His face betrayed nothing of what he felt. As he listened to her curious mix of words both English and Russian, he allowed her to pull his glasses from the pocket of his shirt. Sliding the too big glasses on her face, he smiled at her attempts to grab the thumb that flicked her nose.

Sydney watched her daughter light up, Isabelle adored Sark, and she had the sneaking suspicion that he felt very much the same. The three of them sat together contentedly until the sand she had so eagerly collected over every pore of her body became a nuisance and her squirming became insistent.

"She'll need a bath soon."

Rising, Sark nodded his affirmation, settling Isabelle onto one arm. He reclaimed his glasses as finger now pulled at his hair.

"Sand is not the most accommodating of playthings."

Left to gather the pitcher of tea and empty glasses, it was with these objects in hand that she passed the doorway. The sight that greeted her stopped her short.

Sark stood still, Isabelle leaning across his chest, reaching for what his free hand pointed too. Before the trio, proudly standing there was a rocking horse.

"It's beautiful."

Not sure if she had spoken the words aloud, she could only watch as Isabelle wriggled free of Sark's grip. Her hands grabbed at the mane as Sark helped her onto the seat. Depositing the items she held onto the nearest surface stepped up next to him as Isabelle rocked and laughed.

"You know I had one as a child. Until just this moment I had completely forgotten. It certainly didn't look like that though."

"It's one of a kind."

So he had done well then. Not willing to admit he had been indecisive about the choice he nodded. Well it was time to see if all his choices would be as well received.

"You know it hardly seems fair for Isabelle to be the only one given a memento to mark the occasion."

Fishing the box from his pocket he slipped it into her hand before she could question his statement. She stood there staring down at the box in her hand as though she had never seen such a thing in her life, he couldn't help the smirk. He had surprised Sydney Bristow.

Her mind was slow to keep up with the events. Sark had gotten her a present. Without a word about the self-satisfied smirk, she focused instead on the little box resting on her palm. Lifting the powder blue lid slowly she could hardly believe what she uncovered.

"Oh, my."

Diamonds. Sark had bought her diamonds.

"They're beautiful."

Of course they were beautiful. He nearly spoke the words aloud, opting instead for sending another smirk at her profile. On impulse he had hand selected the stones and the setting. The cut and color were flawless.

He knew, of course, that she normally wore little jewelry and yet since he had begun to know her here, he had seen additions. A silver bangle on her left wrist, some hand made Earthy piece she wore on her neck. It was the two small rings that adorned her toes that drew his most revered of attentions. Those small pieces were directly responsible for setting him down the path to the diamonds she was now putting on.

"How do they look?"

Pulling her hair up, she turned her head side to side.

"They are as remarkable on you as I had imagined."

Blushing, how long had it been since that had happened, she let her hair drop. Unable to stop herself, she fingered her lobes, learning the weight and feel of them against her skin.

Things were changing. Sark had always been so careful never to leave behind anything other than memories. That would be impossible now. His gifts would be loved and remembered and she sensed that they would be the first of many, and considering his very good taste she would very much look forward to it.

Slipping her hand into his, entwining their fingers, she leaned against him. Grateful that he was strong enough to stand aside her, she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank You."

Startled by the sincerity of her actions, he studied her smile. The warmth of her eyes, her hands began to seep into him. Squeezing her hand he smiled briefly at her before their attention was turned back to the giddy toddler.

One year and one day since her daughter made her rather startling entry into the world, Sydney Bristow found herself admiring a happy beginning.

fins