I'm Your Villain

Part Seven


Sark stared down at the pool of red at his feet. It was a stark difference to the porcelain white skin beside it, beneath it. Sydney's eyes stared towards the roof, looking past it in a vacant gaze. It sent chills down his spine. He couldn't take his eyes from her for those split seconds. He watched her, waiting for her to move, to breathe, to blink, but she didn't make a sound. The room was eerily quiet, and the outside world seemed to follow suit. It was silent; except for the blood he could hear beating in his own ears, his heart racing. He took a step backwards, distancing himself from the scene before him.

He looked down at the camera he held in his hand, feeling its weight weighing him down. He lifted it, bringing the sight of her into the frame. The flash put a sparkle in her eye that quickly faded. He clicked again and again, making his way cautiously around her before finishing a full circle. He set the camera down on the table behind him before returning to her side. He knelt down next to her and smiled.

"Perfect".

-------------------------

Sydney removed the make up from her face, erasing the last remainders of the dead Sydney Bristow. Sark was watching her from the doorway. He was happy to see color in her cheeks again. He felt his mind repeatedly telling himself that she was okay, she was alive, she was fine, but his heart still raced faster than normal. The whole set up was an image from the future, he felt. If she was going to live this life, away from it all, she was going to be risking her life. Every move she made could uncover her location to someone dangerous, someone who wouldn't hesitate to exact their revenge on her. That was why he'd made himself a promise, and silently made her a promise. He would stick by her, whether she wanted him to or not, in the shadows or by her side, protecting her...at least for a little while. Sark felt she was his responsibility, now that he'd helped her escape it all.

Sydney smiled at him as she walked past him, now fully restored back to life. She sat at the computer and scrolled through the photos. She'd been made up to look dead before, but this time, it was so much more real, it sent chills down her spine. It would convince those who would need convincing, although it wouldn't silence everyone's thoughts about her.

-------------------------

Jack looked through the photos for what seemed like the thousandth time, combing them for the finer details, the details which might give away their fallacy. His eyes told him that these images were real, that the body was in fact Sydney's, and she was dead, but his brain couldn't comprehend it. Something told him it was wrong, a father's instinct, or a weathered spy in the industry, something just wasn't right about it. Last they knew, Sark had Sydney, and it wasn't like Sark to quietly end business. Sark was a man who reveled in his achievements, in the death of his enemies and the lives that he shattered. If he had Sydney he would've made them aware of it, whether she was alive or dead, they would have known, he would have allowed them to hope for her return, and then snatch it from them. But his mind countered. It had been confirmed that the photographs may not have come from him, which meant that Sark had the last known contact with Sydney, and that made him his first priority. He turned away from the computer screen and reached for the phone, when a new window popped open on his desktop.

-------------------------

Sydney hit send and collapsed the window as she felt a presence behind her. She tensed her shoulders, knowing that he'd seen the screen before she could hide it. She turned back and looked up at him, trying to gage his reaction. He had to understand that she needed to contact her father, for Jack's own good as well as Sark's, and her own. She opened her mouth to speak.

"You don't need to apologize." He said with a gentle, reassuring smile before she had the chance to speak.

Sydney turned back to the computer. That email was it. That was the last contact she'd have with her father, at least for the short term. She needed that closure, and she knew he would need it to. If Jack believed that Sark had killed her, he wouldn't stop until he had done the same, and worse, to Sark. This way she got to say goodbye to her father, at least for now. And it would prevent him from going after Sark. Although she couldn't guarantee that he wouldn't try to look for her, she just hoped he'd understand the reasons behind it. Sark had gone back to reading a book not far from where she sat. She couldn't help but feel that he wasn't as okay with the contact with her father as he tried to seem.

Sark stared down at the pages in front of him. Had she just compromised her own future for the sake of saying goodbye? He himself wouldn't have done such a thing, but at the same time he didn't have anyone to say goodbye to. He couldn't see it from her point of view, he could only try to be empathetic, to understand that it probably was something she just had to do. Would that be the end of it? He couldn't help but wonder if she would be able to let it all go, to live a new life without thinking about her family, her friends, and everything else she was leaving behind. What if she wasn't ready for it? What if all of this was for nothing, a waste? As he thought this he realized how little it mattered to him, the time spent organizing everything for her had not been a burden. It was an odd feeling knowing that he could sit with Sydney, once an enemy, in the same room, in a comfortable silence, and not feel himself checking his surroundings for possible outs or for weapons to use against her. For the first time in a very long career, he felt at ease.

Would that be a blessing, or a curse?

-------------------------

Several hours earlier, Sydney had boarded the private jet without knowing her destination. Before, that would have left her feeling unsettled, but now it felt like a new kind of freedom. Sark sat opposite her, sifting through a bundle of documents that he had organized for her, checking and double checking that everything was in order. She smiled. It was the little, and the big gestures, that he did that made her smile. His brow slightly furrowed, his blue eyes trained on the pieces of paper...

Sark looked up from the papers and out of the window, trying to gage a location. He continued to keep his eyes focused on the sky outside, feeling her eyes on him. He tried to conceal a smile but found it difficult. He looked back down at the papers before moving them back into a folder, a smirk now firmly impressed upon his features. He looked at her and found that she wasn't only watching him, but she had a smile on her face as well.

"How does it feel?" He asked, making her frown slightly.

"How does what feel?"

"To start again?" He asked. He'd thought of it himself, but he knew that for him it would be impossible.

"It feels...liberating…" She said with a smile that broadened into an almost goofy grin. She didn't know if that was the word to use, there were so many that could describe what she was feeling.

Sark raised the glass of champagne from the table in front of them, "To your new life…" He began before pausing, trying to think of the perfect thing to say, "May you find the happiness that you deserve."

Sydney found herself on the verge of tears as she raised her glass to his with a clink.

To her new life.