Ok, first off, I am SOOOO sorry for not updating in ages, there's no excuse really, 'cept that I completely forgot to update here along with sd-1, but I finished the fic a short while back, so I'll try update the last few parts in pretty quick succession.
I'm away in Wales till Friday/Saturday, so I won't be able to update the weekend, but hope you enjoy this part all the same:)
Part Ten – Killing Time
I wait and wait... sleepwalk the hourglass
This way and that... the pendulum swings
Yes, there's plenty of time... always time left to kill
Does time stand still or hurtle on by?
"Did you ever watch that show – 'Lost'?" Sark's voice reverberated off the cold stone surround.
The man strapped before him in a chair, shook his head hurriedly, as he mumbled a single, "No."
The sweat gathering around his temple, had already begun to meander its way down the side of his face, and his hands visibly shook at what he knew was about to occur.
"My daughter was partial to it – she used to sneak past the maids and other house-staff, after they'd sent her to bed, and watch it in one of the back rooms. She was particularly skilled at that. She knew which stairs creaked, which walls shielded her from others, which corridors provided the right shadows for her to hide in. And she never once got caught. Did you know that?" Sark questioned him then, his face mere centimeters away from his captive's.
He smiled tightly then, as he lifted his head, and adjusted his posture once more, "No, I don't suppose you did."
And then Sark resumed his pacing as he circled his hostage, talking as he walked.
"She was an exceptionally clever child, my daughter. Gifted also. Wonderful judge of character; she was especially talented at identifying traitors", and he paused momentarily.
Then, bending down slightly, Sark posed the question, "What do you think she'd say about you?"
When the man simply shook his head in response, Sark nodded and straightened up, "Don't know? Well, not to worry, I'll find out soon enough."
And again Sark began to step back and forth around the man as he spoke to him.
"You know, I caught an episode once – of the show. One of the men, he was being tortured by an ex-Iraqi soldier. The technique he used, albeit improvised somewhat, is one I happen to be familiar with. He sharpened bamboo shoots and inserted them into each of his fingertips. Wonderful for unclogging dirt from beneath the nails, not so good on one's health, however."
And Sark held up the sharp metal spikes then, spreading them apart, and watching in pure glee as they glinted menacingly in the light.
And he smirked coldly down at the man before him, the mischievous spark in his eye all too evident, as he said, "I think it's about time we determined your pain threshold, Markisko, don't you?"
Let time unwind... let all the cogs fall out
Let man's machines collapse and rust
Face down in the dust... I'll kiss no other lips
A lifetime of nothing, condemned without you
"When Sark trapped Espinosa, she promised she would kill him. Apparently she went one up – she killed his daughter instead", Sydney told the other's as they sat round a table in APO.
"Sark has a daughter?" came Vaughn's immediate and shocked reply.
"Sark had a daughter", Jack's voice suddenly joined in.
And pressing a single button then, her picture was projected onto the screens before them all.
"Avalon", Jack said simply.
And he turned round to face them, purposely avoiding looking at the photo of the little girl, as he added, "She was eight-years-old."
Been so long here... I could die here
Lying by your side
But time won't claim me, time and me only
I'm just killing time
"Sark has apparently taken it upon himself to track down and kill all those involved", Sloane continued.
"Starting with this man", he told them, and pressed another button, casting another picture up onto the screens.
"Anthony Markisko – he was a former Italian arms supplier and informant for various groups, both legitimate and back-channel, living in San Fransisco", he said.
"As of twenty minutes ago, he was pronounced dead by security officials at his home. We believe Sark to be responsible", Sloane reported to them.
And another image was projected up onto the screens then, making many in the room gasp involuntarily through both horror and shock, at what they saw.
"This is what he looked like when the guards first found him", Sloane said, sending a single glance to the picture as he spoke.
The photo, although somewhat grainy, was clear enough to portray the cruelty behind his death. His body was strapped to a chair, blood matting both his skin and his clothes, with the darker patches signifying points of severe trauma. One hand was missing two fingers, while the other three. The tears were spread randomly across his shirt, one such revealing a large, deep, gash in his lower torso. There was a long thick line that ran down his upper thigh, the blood spilling abundantly from it clearly evident even with the standard of the photo. All of the toes on his right appeared to have been literally Iripped off/I and the bloody mess that dripped rivulets of crimson to the floor beneath was the remainder of his leg, half of which had been brutally hacked off; in much the same manner as the digits on his foot. Suffice to say, the Italian had suffered – greatly.
"And this is what he looked like when medical services arrived", Sloane then told them, as a different, and more horrifying photo, replaced the previous.
"It is believed Markisko was, in fact, still alive when he was set alight – the others certainly were anyway", he added while all eyes in the room were suddenly diverted away from the image in disgust.
The remnants of baked bodies were littered around the room. And all that now occupied the chair was a blackened corpse, it's roasted jaw opened wide, and it's charred head twisted round at an angle – these simple actions proof enough that he was in agony till the end.
A fitting end, some would probably say, to the life he willingly inflicted upon others … and apparently Sark was of the same opinion.
It seemed that his loyalties weren't nearly as flexible as everyone seemed to think: stealing his money was one thing; imprisoning him for two years another; killing his daughter was apparently something else entirely – and quite rightfully so.
If the sun went out, I wouldn't mind too much
Who needs the days to trouble to fill?
If the moon didn't rise, I wouldn't be upset
Who needs moonshine to cause tears to spill?
"Fear the man who fights for love. Tremble in fear of the man that fights for love lost", a voice suddenly remarked, his British accent echoing off the glass encircling them.
Everyone's attention suddenly shot towards the doorway where a man with black hair, and dark brown eyes, stood.
"Who are you?" Sydney demanded first off.
"My name is James Valeska. I'm with British Intelligence", he told them matter-of-factly, moving into the room to join them, and flashing them his ID briefly as he did so.
"And you're about as timely as the Angel of Death, Jamie", came the response from the other side of the room.
"Mars", James acknowledged, taking a step towards the other man, "I heard what happened. I came as soon as I could."
"I'm sure you did", was Mars' simply reply – the apparent sarcasm held within his words relaying how he really felt.
"Mari", the man addressed him then, his voice dipping lower in its volume and the words sounding softer on his tongue.
"You're – you're not suggesting … that I had something to do with what happened? You know I would never do anything to hurt Avalon – she may be Sark's daughter, but she was Eden's too", James said.
His voice held so much sincerity at the end that Mars physically moved his head to the side to avoid it, with both this action and his audible sigh, clearly showing his disbelief and disgust at James' words.
"Yeah, an now they're all dead – convenient that, wouldn't you say?" Mars retorted, facing James once more, and tilting his head to the side as he studied him.
"The fact you're now free to pursue Julian without feeling any guilt over what'll become of his family", Mars continued.
I've been so long here... I could lie here
Under dying sky
This thirst and hunger holds no wonder
I'm just killing time
Mars walked towards James then, so he was standing directly in front of him, and completely ignoring the agents around them who were regarding both men with a mixture of intrigue and quiet fear, he began to speak – each word carefully pronounced and punctuated to perfection.
"I saw you, you know. I saw you for the bastard I knew you'd become, when we were six years old – and I was right then, wasn't I?" Mars said.
"I told them you weren't to be trusted, told them you'd ultimately betray us in the end – and I was right, wasn't I? Wasn't I?" he demanded angrily then.
"I never betrayed you, Mars", James answered him simply, "No matter what you think of me, know this, I loved Eden, I loved her more than any of you could possibly imagine, and her death nearly killed me. Avalon was her daughter, I would never intentionally set out to hurt her … no matter who she was related to."
"And Aleksei was her son, but he's lying in a white casket six feet under, his coffin measuring a foot for every year of his life. That's four, Jamie, in case you can't remember", Mars told him coldly, the icicles practically Idripping/I off every word he spoke.
"Four fucking years old. And he's dead. Just like the others. Just like Kyla, just like Eden, and just like Ava", his voice continued to haunt the others in the room despite the 'conversation' directed simply between the two men alone.
He locked eyes with the taller man then and spat disgustedly, "You killed them, Jamie. The moment you decided your job meant more to you than their lives – shit, Iour/I lives – you killed them. You killed my wife, and on my wedding day too. And not only that but you killed my best friend as well; you killed Eden, Jamie – the woman you claim to have loved so much. And if that wasn't enough, you killed her two children as well."
"You can play it how you like", Mars said next, "But bottom line is: you betrayed us; you chose a promotion over all our lives – a Fucking promotion Jamie!"
He took a breath in, suddenly as calm as ever again, before he continued on, "You relayed information to your superiors that resulted in their deaths, so however you spin your little tale, however you try and convince others of your version of events, the truth still stands: you were, and always will be, responsible for murdering them."
Barging past James then, Mars began walking away as he called back to him, "I hope Sark leaves you till last, Jamie-boy."
And turning to glance at him briefly, with a menacing promise lingering in his words, he added, "Because that'll be what's called 'Judgement Day'."
And at that Mars walked out.
I await your return,
There's no other one.
Song: 'Killing Time' by The Creatures
Hope you liked it and please let me know what ya think - feedback is much appreciated!
Also, I think I'll change the rating because I've been told it's pretty dark from this chap, or a couple previous onwards, so yeah, it's bumping up! ;)
Thanks for reading!
Steph
xxx
:D