Q & A & Q
[This is a what-if fanfic. It is also my first attempt at writing any kind of fan fic. Bear with me. These characters aren't mine, however much I wish that I was the genius J.J. is. A lot of stuff is made up.You'll see] Scene: a forest somewhere near the Korean border. The mission was simple reconnaissance, but life threw some curve balls.
Sydney glanced down at her watch as she ran from the man chasing her. "Boy Scout, this is Mountaineer. Do you copy?"
"Roger that." Replied a familiar voice on the other end. "Did you get the files?"
A bullet bounced off of a tree to the left of Sydney. "Great," she thought." Go ahead, make my day." She collected herself and answered Vaughn. "Yes I did. I need the caravan to relocate to the back road of the camp. I should be there in 10 minutes."
"Okay. See you there. Be careful."
Sydney ended the transmission. "Vaughn is so thoughtful. 'Be Careful.' But someone else also told me that in a past life. A life at SD-6." She shuddered at the thought of Sloane. "Where was the turkey now?" "Ouch!!!" A bullet had hit her leg. She reached for the wound instinctively as she fell towards the ground.
"Lying down on the job, are we?" Sydney could recognize that sarcasm anywhere.
"Why Mr. Sark, surely you would realize that when one actually works for a living, they need a little rest." Well, it was the only way she could keep her self sane. And she had grown fond of the witty banter she and Sark engaged in everytime they met. She opened her eyes.
"Where am I?" She asked.
"Hidden, which is all that matters now. You have a pretty bad wound on your leg, and your head isn't doing so well either."
Thoughts raced through Sydney's head. Then the memories came flooding back to her. You fell, Sydney. You got hit by a bullet and fell. But not just any fall. No, you had to hit a rock on the way down. Good job. Vaughn must be worried sick. She glanced at her watch, the only communication she had with the world. Broken, just my luck. "So why am I here?" She asked, stressing the 'here' part to get the point of the question across.
"Like I said, you have a wounded leg, and probably a concussion is on the way. You are hiding here," he replied, stressing the 'here' out of sheer mockery, "because the Korean camp is very angry that you took a certain file from them. And if moi hadn't saved you, you would be sitting in one of their torture rooms right now."
"Hold the phone! You mean that this isn't the torture room?" Sydney asked, indignantly as possible.
"Thank me now, or later, it's your choice." Sark apparently had no desire to continue along that avenue.
Sydney tried something else. "Where is the file now?" she asked.
Sark pointed toward the wall. "In my safe, just in case we have to flee the scene," he said smiling. "Of course, if that happens, you might be in a little trouble. I did, however, go through the trouble of making you something to eat. Care for some soup?"
"Yes, but then again I would also care for some of those snails Vaughn likes so much." Sydney nodded, feeling only now the pain from her head. "Thanks."
Sark left the room, leaving Sydney there to mull things over. "Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he does have a heart." Still she had the sinking knowledge that he probably didn't care, and he was using whatever hat trick came along the way. Still, it could happen. "Shut up Sydney! You're getting in really deep. Don't let Sark pull the wool over your eyes."
"Did you miss me?" The familiar voice had the sound of sarcasm laced into every word. What else could she do?
"Of course. You are my very life force." Sydney replied, having the thought that as of right now that was too true for her to handle.
"Take sips first. I doubt you have eaten in a while, and I don't want to overwhelm you just yet." Sark said, with a tone that suggested a mother caring for a child, rather than the degrading tone of sarcasm. Sydney pondered a comeback, but realized he meant well. She had just taken her first sip when a simple statement caused her to spit it out.
"Sydney, I would like to talk to you about the possibility of my recruitment into the CIA."
"What would you like to know?" she replied, as casually as she could.
"Well, you see, I have been chumming up to Arvin Sloane, and your mother I might add, for about a year now. I know many of their secrets, and they still don't know my first name. I have a feeling that they are planning to off me as soon as Sloane can find out the location that I keep my artifacts at." He pause to let her take it in. "I have uncovered documents revealing plans for a new Alliance, complete with the locations of some of the world's most notorious criminals. Some people would kill for this intel, the CIA especially. Except they didn't know that I had it, until now. Surely you, Sydney Bristow, are going to go back to them and tell them, and sic the dogs on me. I can't live having both sides chasing after me." Sydney looked up from her bowl of soup. " I have done some hard thinking, and this was the impass I came to. Either I stay with Arvin, and his silly treasure hunt, or I sign on to the CIA, and do some good for the world. You know I have more international relations than any member of the CIA, and I can use that to help you."
Sydney pondered this for a second. "What if you betray us in the end?" She wanted to hear his answer.
"Do you really think I am as heinous as Arvin Sloane? All I am asking for is a simple deal. I turn over all of my intel, and get a silly little desk job like that one that your friend Tippin has."
"You do realize that if you did turn on us, you would go to number one on our most wanted list. We probably would be given permission to shoot you on the spot." Sark thought for a moment.
"I assure you, Miss Bristow, that nothing of that sort would ever happen. In fact, I will even sign an agreement to have a bug inserted into my bloodstream just in case the situation did come up."
"Well it sounds like an intriguing offer," Sydney thought. "Marshall did just come up with that new bug not too long ago. I wonder if the CIA would take him without a jail cell." "Unfortunately , I am without any communications device, so this little plan of yours might be a while coming."
"I have already contacted your friends at the CIA. They have been on their way for a little over fifteen minutes now. We will meet them over by the river." Sark does have a plan for everything, Sydney thought.
Sark helped Sydney up. "I am going to have to carry you," he said, much to her disappointment. She didn't like anyone helping her, most of all Sark. He lifted her gently onto his hip, and then shifted her to his back. Her breath grazed his ear, and the hairs on his neck stood up. Sure, he had thought about her, but they had never been this close. He started for the door, opening it to a world full of darkness. Sydney wondered how they were going to find this place. Sark walked for about a mile, and stopped beneath the trunk of a tree near the edge of the river. The moonlight sparkled of the ripples of the shore. He set Sydney down with more care than a child with a china doll. "Are you tired?" he asked.
"Not really," she said, her mind weighing the thoughts she had had on their short journey together. Had she imagined the sparkle in his eyes as he lifted her on to his back? Or what about the care in which he had place her on the ground? Was this the same Sark she knew all along?
The helicopter blades whurred above. Sark grabbed a branch and wipped out his Zippo. Waving the flaming torch in the air, Sark could not help but think these were his last few moments alone with Sydney. Was he making the right decision?
Sydney saw her salvation above, and was surprised when she was met with heartache. Why was she feeling this way towards Sark? She had Vaughn, who was all she ever needed. Why was she even considering the possibilities?
[This is a what-if fanfic. It is also my first attempt at writing any kind of fan fic. Bear with me. These characters aren't mine, however much I wish that I was the genius J.J. is. A lot of stuff is made up.You'll see] Scene: a forest somewhere near the Korean border. The mission was simple reconnaissance, but life threw some curve balls.
Sydney glanced down at her watch as she ran from the man chasing her. "Boy Scout, this is Mountaineer. Do you copy?"
"Roger that." Replied a familiar voice on the other end. "Did you get the files?"
A bullet bounced off of a tree to the left of Sydney. "Great," she thought." Go ahead, make my day." She collected herself and answered Vaughn. "Yes I did. I need the caravan to relocate to the back road of the camp. I should be there in 10 minutes."
"Okay. See you there. Be careful."
Sydney ended the transmission. "Vaughn is so thoughtful. 'Be Careful.' But someone else also told me that in a past life. A life at SD-6." She shuddered at the thought of Sloane. "Where was the turkey now?" "Ouch!!!" A bullet had hit her leg. She reached for the wound instinctively as she fell towards the ground.
"Lying down on the job, are we?" Sydney could recognize that sarcasm anywhere.
"Why Mr. Sark, surely you would realize that when one actually works for a living, they need a little rest." Well, it was the only way she could keep her self sane. And she had grown fond of the witty banter she and Sark engaged in everytime they met. She opened her eyes.
"Where am I?" She asked.
"Hidden, which is all that matters now. You have a pretty bad wound on your leg, and your head isn't doing so well either."
Thoughts raced through Sydney's head. Then the memories came flooding back to her. You fell, Sydney. You got hit by a bullet and fell. But not just any fall. No, you had to hit a rock on the way down. Good job. Vaughn must be worried sick. She glanced at her watch, the only communication she had with the world. Broken, just my luck. "So why am I here?" She asked, stressing the 'here' part to get the point of the question across.
"Like I said, you have a wounded leg, and probably a concussion is on the way. You are hiding here," he replied, stressing the 'here' out of sheer mockery, "because the Korean camp is very angry that you took a certain file from them. And if moi hadn't saved you, you would be sitting in one of their torture rooms right now."
"Hold the phone! You mean that this isn't the torture room?" Sydney asked, indignantly as possible.
"Thank me now, or later, it's your choice." Sark apparently had no desire to continue along that avenue.
Sydney tried something else. "Where is the file now?" she asked.
Sark pointed toward the wall. "In my safe, just in case we have to flee the scene," he said smiling. "Of course, if that happens, you might be in a little trouble. I did, however, go through the trouble of making you something to eat. Care for some soup?"
"Yes, but then again I would also care for some of those snails Vaughn likes so much." Sydney nodded, feeling only now the pain from her head. "Thanks."
Sark left the room, leaving Sydney there to mull things over. "Maybe I was wrong about him. Maybe he does have a heart." Still she had the sinking knowledge that he probably didn't care, and he was using whatever hat trick came along the way. Still, it could happen. "Shut up Sydney! You're getting in really deep. Don't let Sark pull the wool over your eyes."
"Did you miss me?" The familiar voice had the sound of sarcasm laced into every word. What else could she do?
"Of course. You are my very life force." Sydney replied, having the thought that as of right now that was too true for her to handle.
"Take sips first. I doubt you have eaten in a while, and I don't want to overwhelm you just yet." Sark said, with a tone that suggested a mother caring for a child, rather than the degrading tone of sarcasm. Sydney pondered a comeback, but realized he meant well. She had just taken her first sip when a simple statement caused her to spit it out.
"Sydney, I would like to talk to you about the possibility of my recruitment into the CIA."
"What would you like to know?" she replied, as casually as she could.
"Well, you see, I have been chumming up to Arvin Sloane, and your mother I might add, for about a year now. I know many of their secrets, and they still don't know my first name. I have a feeling that they are planning to off me as soon as Sloane can find out the location that I keep my artifacts at." He pause to let her take it in. "I have uncovered documents revealing plans for a new Alliance, complete with the locations of some of the world's most notorious criminals. Some people would kill for this intel, the CIA especially. Except they didn't know that I had it, until now. Surely you, Sydney Bristow, are going to go back to them and tell them, and sic the dogs on me. I can't live having both sides chasing after me." Sydney looked up from her bowl of soup. " I have done some hard thinking, and this was the impass I came to. Either I stay with Arvin, and his silly treasure hunt, or I sign on to the CIA, and do some good for the world. You know I have more international relations than any member of the CIA, and I can use that to help you."
Sydney pondered this for a second. "What if you betray us in the end?" She wanted to hear his answer.
"Do you really think I am as heinous as Arvin Sloane? All I am asking for is a simple deal. I turn over all of my intel, and get a silly little desk job like that one that your friend Tippin has."
"You do realize that if you did turn on us, you would go to number one on our most wanted list. We probably would be given permission to shoot you on the spot." Sark thought for a moment.
"I assure you, Miss Bristow, that nothing of that sort would ever happen. In fact, I will even sign an agreement to have a bug inserted into my bloodstream just in case the situation did come up."
"Well it sounds like an intriguing offer," Sydney thought. "Marshall did just come up with that new bug not too long ago. I wonder if the CIA would take him without a jail cell." "Unfortunately , I am without any communications device, so this little plan of yours might be a while coming."
"I have already contacted your friends at the CIA. They have been on their way for a little over fifteen minutes now. We will meet them over by the river." Sark does have a plan for everything, Sydney thought.
Sark helped Sydney up. "I am going to have to carry you," he said, much to her disappointment. She didn't like anyone helping her, most of all Sark. He lifted her gently onto his hip, and then shifted her to his back. Her breath grazed his ear, and the hairs on his neck stood up. Sure, he had thought about her, but they had never been this close. He started for the door, opening it to a world full of darkness. Sydney wondered how they were going to find this place. Sark walked for about a mile, and stopped beneath the trunk of a tree near the edge of the river. The moonlight sparkled of the ripples of the shore. He set Sydney down with more care than a child with a china doll. "Are you tired?" he asked.
"Not really," she said, her mind weighing the thoughts she had had on their short journey together. Had she imagined the sparkle in his eyes as he lifted her on to his back? Or what about the care in which he had place her on the ground? Was this the same Sark she knew all along?
The helicopter blades whurred above. Sark grabbed a branch and wipped out his Zippo. Waving the flaming torch in the air, Sark could not help but think these were his last few moments alone with Sydney. Was he making the right decision?
Sydney saw her salvation above, and was surprised when she was met with heartache. Why was she feeling this way towards Sark? She had Vaughn, who was all she ever needed. Why was she even considering the possibilities?