Believe
Chapter Twelve
End Game
Sydney hunched over the manuscript, trying to ignore Sark's closeness next to her, trying to ignore his cologne that wafted into the air, making her want him the way she did almost two years ago. She needed to focus on the encoded page in front of her, not Sark. She couldn't possibly feel like she still loved him after everything he had done. He had stolen her child and taken him to Irina, the woman who had betrayed her time and time again. She had always known Rambaldi played an important part in Sark's life, a part that he hadn't been able to give up. There was a reason they hadn't been able to stay together, Sark wasn't able to give up the life, Sydney was barely able to give it up. She was still stuck inside the CIA and Sark was still stuck wrapped up inside Rambaldi's hold. He always would be; they would always be entangled inside of Rambaldi.
"This paragraph is what confuses me. So far, everything we've decoded matches perfectly with the copy Irina showed me of the translated version. But this section isn't translating the way it should be. Look here…"
Sark pulled out a copy of what Irina had shown him and McKennas Cole only a few days before. The first few paragraphs spoke about how the child would be taken from the Chosen One by the Guardian. Basically, it told them that Sark would betray Sydney by kidnapping her child, like it had already happened. Then it spoke on how the Guardian would return the child to the Fanatical…the Covenant, and that was where the translations began not matching up. The Prophecy continued to talk about how the child would wield a power unknown to mankind so far in the version Irina had provided him with, but the original version did not compare.
"You think my mother showed you a different version?"
"If it worked to her advantage, you know she would, Sydney." Sark ran his hand through his hair, tousling the blond curls that Sydney wanted to touch herself. Sydney rolled her shoulders and took her pen and began to doodle on the paper they had been using to decipher the Prophecy on. She drew lines absently, staring at the parchment, preparing herself to find whatever it was that Irina had kept hidden from Sark. It must be something important, possibly even involving him, that could help them figure out the Covenant's end game. She was always wondering what the end game was, and Sark needed to know.
Sark felt on edge. He wasn't used to feeling so out of sorts, and he most certainly wasn't used to feeling nervous about what he was about to read. He had always followed Rambaldi, always cherished the words the man had written. Apparently the dedication to Rambaldi was practically genetic, since his mother had felt the same way about him. Irina had raised him on Rambaldi, taught him to revere what the prophet said. Any writings found by Rambaldi, Sark had soaked up and fit the pieces together like a 5, 000 piece jigsaw puzzle. Now, he almost dreaded what he was going to find out. Irina had played him, a fact that he'd been aware of from the beginning, but she still managed to surprise him in the ways she did. She always knew how to penetrate his walls of protection, his seeming know-how to the spy life. Maybe he'd always been at a disadvantage with her. She'd been the one to teach him how to spy. She knew how to use him, even when he didn't want to be used.
Sark heard Sydney's gasp, so he turned to see what she had written down on the paper. He read the first line; then paused. He checked her translation against the same line on the parchment, satisfied his questions on whether it'd been translated correctly, then returned to Sydney's version of the Prophecy.
The distrust amongst the Fanatical will result in the end of the Covenant, but will not end the reign of power of one particular member from the faction. Two of the three will remain, after the Guardian betrays the Covenant and brings death to one, and the Guardian will choose his alliance, not with the Fanatical but with the Chosen One, and will sacrifice several more lives to return the child to her and to keep him with her. The remaining Covenant member will prepare for the final battle, the final battle that will result in much destruction. Only the child that wields the power unknown to mankind will be able to stop her, with the help of the Chosen One and the Guardian, but it is he who must choose which side he wishes to be on. However, due to the situation, tragedy will happen. This child will wield an amount of power unknown by everyone. Childlike innocence will be taken as protective instincts strike him for the Chosen. The Guardian's fatal distraction will bring the child into the power as the Fanatical follows them down the path to safekeeping.
Sydney didn't know how to process what she'd written. How could her child stop Irina? He was only a boy, not even four years old yet. He hadn't even gone to school. Unless Irina really bided her time, until he was a grown man, Sydney could hardly even see how Rogan could stop Irina from using him for evil. How could Rogan make a decision when he couldn't even tie his shoes? Sydney was terrified by what she was just read and she hated herself for believing in the Prophecy. She would be able to stop this from happening. She would make the choice for Rogan, she was his mother. She would keep herself out of trouble, she would ensure her situation, so she didn't put Rogan in the position that he felt he needed to protect her. She would protect him, just like she was supposed to. Wasn't that what the Prophecy meant when it said that she and Sark were supposed to help him? Yes. That's all there was to it.
Sark was in his own thoughts after he'd read the translation. Even his killing Cole had been foretold. Irina had known all along that he would choose Sydney. She had made sure he had followed Rambaldi's prophecy to a T and he'd been like a puppet on a string, waiting for the master to tell him how to move. He was unbelievably irritated. He was more intelligent than this, smoother than this. He was completely outraged that he'd let this happen. He pushed away from the table, not storming, that was a bit too much emotion to let Sydney see. He tried to process the rest of the Prophecy instead of focusing on the anger he felt. How were they supposed to help Rogan make this decision? He was just a young boy. He couldn't imagine what they were supposed to do for him. All he knew was that he couldn't be distracted. He had to stay focused. He glanced over at Sydney, and saw how distressed she was. Her fear for her son was tangible and understandable, and it was written all over her face. He stepped forward for a moment, understanding why she was worried about him, he felt it too. He put his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it slightly. Her breath hitched in her throat and Sark liked the way he affected her. He almost wanted to take advantage of it. He did want to. He leaned down to her, pushing down on her lips with just enough pressure. Sydney didn't try to fight it; she just let the feeling wash over her. A slight moan erupted from her lips as his tongue slipped over her bottom lip, and soon her mouth was open for entry. Soon they were battling for control, and neither was thinking of the Prophecy.
Rogan sat quietly in the living room. He was thinking, which wasn't what he wanted to do. He'd rather talk to his mommy or Mr. Sark even. He hadn't seen his mommy in so long, and Sark never let him talked to her on the phone. He missed her so much. He had a lot to say to her, but she didn't want to talk to him right now. She was busy being a grown up. She wanted to talk to Mr. Sark, anyway.
His legs didn't reach the floor, so they swung back and forth in the chair. Sark had allowed him to play with some of the cars left in the bedroom, but he didn't really feel like playing with them. He kept feeling that sticky red stuff on his face. Mr. Cole had been talking and then he hadn't talked anymore. He hadn't really moved anymore, not after he fell down. He knew that meant Mr. Cole was dead. He knew what dead was. But he didn't know what happened after you were dead. Where did you go? What would Mr. Cole's mommy think about him being dead? His mommy would be sad if he died and didn't ever come back. Mr. Cole's mommy would probably be just as sad. Well, he wouldn't let his mommy be sad like that. He would stay with her and make her happy forever and never let anyone hurt her the way Mr. Sark had hurt Mr. Cole. He pinky promised that.
Jack was not the type of agent to spend his life behind a desk. Even when he'd been ordered to stay behind a desk, he had rarely listened. He was Jack Bristow. Long ago, the Agency had stopped trying to direct Jack, and allowed his slightly shady methods of completing methods slide by. Still, all the freedom he was given at the Agency did nothing to help him find his daughter after she'd run off, or his grandson, who had been kidnapped by a man that his daughter fancied herself in love with, despite his nefarious dealings. He thought he was going to go insane, trying to find some sort of clue or sign of where his grandson and daughter were. Sydney had disappeared, believing she could find Sark and talk him into returning her son. He only hoped that Sark would listen to reason and return the child before the Covenant took him and didn't allow anyone who cared about Rogan see him. But he sincerely doubted it. Sark had always been out for himself, whatever he could get that benefited him, not caring much for what would happen to anything or anyone else around him as long as he was safe. Sydney had accepted that about him, but deep down, Jack thought she might have felt Sark would change for her. Isn't that what women always wanted and believed? That men would change just for them?
Jack could see Rogan in the back of his mind, the little boy's bright brown eyes, straight messy hair, his wide, toothy smile as he ran around Sydney's backyard, oblivious to the dangers that lay ahead of him. He had to find his grandson and protect him from the Covenant. A ringing broke through his memories of Rogan and he snapped it up with an angry, "Bristow," as his welcome. He could barely believe what he heard on the other end.
"Dad, it's me." Sydney's voice sounded shaky, but still safe.
"Where have you been? How could you go off on your own? Sark is dangerous; don't tell me you've forgotten that."
Jack stopped his admonishments. Sydney was a grown woman, so she had every right to chase after her three year old on her own. She had put herself in danger, though, danger that he would like her to avoid by herself. She at least needed backup. She should have at least taken Weiss with her. Weiss would have helped.
"I haven't forgotten that, Dad. Listen, I have Rogan. He's safe. A little confused and upset, but all around, he's safe and sound. For now."
"What do you mean for now? Is there someone coming after him again?"
"It's a long story that I'll get into when I see you next. But I can't tell you all of this over the phone, no matter how secure these lines are. Besides, we need to get moving. This is one of the first places Mom will look for us here."
'Irina…"
"Is behind the kidnapping, as I suspected, despite the fact that I didn't want to believe it."
"So Sark didn't take Rogan?"
"No, he did," Sydney paused, "I'll explain it later, Dad. I promise. We need a safe place to go, that no one knows about. I figured you had plenty of places for that."
"Of course I do." Jack glanced around his office, unsure of why he felt like there were people listening to him talk to his daughter. He didn't want to say Sydney's name, he was afraid that people would know what he was doing.
"I'll send you an email with directions."
"Okay. That sounds great. Meet us there as soon as you can get away. And please don't tell anyone, not even Weiss or Vaughn. I just can't take any chances with my son."
"I can't take any chances with my daughter. I will see you as soon as I can."
Sydney disconnected before Jack could say anything else. He wasn't quite sure what was happening, a feeling that disconcerted him more than he cared to admit, but he would be filled in soon. Now, he just had to get away from the Agency. That wouldn't be a problem. He was Jack Bristow.
