Chapter 2
Sark walked over to the bed in the small white room. He regarded his brother. He hadn't seen him since he was shot. Nikolai had been in a coma, and had been so until, apparently, this morning. His face was pale, but other then that, he looked fine. Sark sat down in the seat next to the bed.
"What, no 'I missed you so much' speech?" Sark wasn't shocked as he heard his brother speak. Nikolai opened his eyes, looking at Sark. He grinned.
"Long time no see, huh, Jul?" Sark nodded, remaining silent. Nikolai watched him for a moment before speaking. "You fucked it up, didn't you?"
"Excuse me?" Sark narrowed his eyes. Nikolai rolled his.
"Sydney isn't here, or Simon for that matter, so you must have done something."
"Simon is out of the country right now," Sark finally responded, "he had to pick up…something."
"And Sydney?" Nikolai raised an eyebrow. Sark looked away. Nikolai smirked. "You just had to fuck it up, huh, Jul? You-"
"Enough, Nikolai," Sark snapped out, rising from his seat. He ran a hand through his hair. "She's gone. After you were shot… she left."
"And why did she leave?"
"She found out about me being… related to Rambaldi." Sark said, turning back around to face him.
"Ah, the old fucker's at it again," Nikolai smirked, "So she just left?"
"After finding out I was Rambaldi's only living relative, who was supposed to be in the custody of The Covenant, by the way, she was a… little angry, to say the least."
"Yeah, I'm sure she was," Nikolai snorted, "bet she was pretty mad to learn that after she had fucked you."
"Nikolai," Sark's voice held a warning tone. Nikolai raised his hands.
"Sorry," he shrugged, "told you it was a habit of mine to be crude and insulting." Sark sighed. It most definitely was.
"So tell me again where Simon is?" Sark sat back down in the chair.
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Sark had just gotten back from meeting with a contact of his. He slipped off his suit jacket as he walked through the house into the kitchen. The French doors leading out onto the patio were open. He slipped his gun out of its holster. Moving silently out the doors, he stopped once he saw Simon sitting on the ground, bottles of alcohol surrounding him.
"Simon?" Sark walked out onto the patio, his gun already back in its holster. He watched as his friend raised a hand with a bottle clasped tightly in it. Simon smiled.
"Julian!" He tried to stand, but fell back down, the bottle slipping from his grasp and breaking on the ground. "Bloody fucker…" He grabbed another bottle, ripping the lid off before bringing it to his mouth.
"Simon, what are you doing?" Sark walked over, taking a set next to Simon on the ground. He picked up a bottle, taking a swig.
"Drinking." Sark nodded.
"Of course, how could I have missed that?" Simon sniggered.
"I don't quite know, mate-"
"Si," Sark grabbed the bottle out of his hand, throwing it off. It landed on the ground with a loud crash. "The last time I saw you drink like this was-"
"I know when it was." Simon snapped, he rose unsteadily from the ground.
"Are you going to inform me what this is about," Sark's voice was bored, "or do I have to guess?"
"Tell me, Julian," Simon pulled out a cigarette, "do the people in our lives always die, or is it just me?" Sark froze, the bottle in his hand pausing mid-way to his mouth. His head turned to Simon.
"Si-"
"Every bloody person I've ever know, excluding you," He pointed to Sark, "Irina, Nikolai… and some other people, have died. Isn't that just fucking wonderful?" He brought the lit cigarette up to his mouth for a drag, "Honestly, Jul, I'm like the bloody grim reaper. Wait, no, I'm like that king… you know, that king who everything he touched turned to gold? Help me out, Jul, what was his bloody name…?"
"Medias." Sark supplied for him quietly.
"Right, right, King Medias," He threw the cigarette to the ground, "except instead of everything turning to gold, everything dies." He shrugged, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather have the gold."
"He died," Sark said, "Or at least would have if he hadn't begged the Gods to take back the gift."
"True," Simon smiled at Sark, shaking his finger at him, "you are just so smart, Julian, so damn smart. Although, you did fuck Sydney Bristow; and that, my friend, was just fucked up. She was mad, wasn't she? Left pretty fast after she found out, huh, Jul?"
"Simon…" Sark's voice had a warning tone. Simon chuckled.
"Oh fuck off, Julian." Sark set his bottle down on the ground, standing up.
"Come get me when you're sober," He headed for the door.
"She's dead." Simon's quiet voice carried over to Sark. He stopped.
"Who?" He remained facing the door, waiting.
"Shannon's dead." This time it was said in a choked voice. Oh fuck. Sark turned around.
"Are you sure?" Simon gave a choked laugh.
"Fuck yes," He pulled a letter out of his pocket, tossing it to Sark. He caught it, and opened it. After a few moments, he looked up.
"Simon…"
"Fuck!" Simon kicked a bottle of alcohol, sending it flying into a nearby tree. It broke loudly. He picked up another bottle, throwing it. Sark watched silently, waiting for him to stop. He did, once all the bottles were gone. "Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck! Mother fucker!" He fell to the ground, his hands resting on his knees. Sark walked over; sat down next to him.
"Is…" He cleared his throat, "What about Ciara?" Simon remained silent for awhile, but finally spoke, his head rising. He looked at Sark.
"She's alive, Jul," He looked away as his eyes filled, "the bloody bitch left her to me. She left her… to me." Sark took a deep breath. He wrapped one arm around Simon. Simon remained tense for a moment, his shoulders sagged. He broke down, his arms wrapping around Sark. Sark remained silent, looking off into the trees. There was only one thought running through his head. Fuck…
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Nikolai was silent for a moment. He finally spoke.
"Fuck." Sark nodded.
"So he's gone to get… her?" Sark ran a hand through his hair, nodded.
"He left yesterday. He's going to bring her to the house."
"When?" Sark shrugged.
"Tomorrow, I suppose."
"How did she die?" Nikolai grabbed the glass of water next to his bed, taking a sip.
"Car accident." Nikolai whistled, setting the glass back down.
"Damn." He shook his head. They both remained silent for a moment. Nikolai spoke.
"And Sydney? Where is she?" Sark stood from the chair, turning his back to Nikolai. He cleared his throat.
"I'm not quite sure at the moment."
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Sydney smiled at the small children playing in the dusty streets. Mexico could be such a beautiful place. She pulled her baseball cap down lower, trying to block out the hot sun.
That was one thing she hated about Mexico. It was hot. Very, very hot. She walked for a little while longer before opening the door to a small shop. She walked inside; cool air blowing on her from the many fans located around the shop.
"Hola, Señorita," A man in his late forties smiled at her from behind the counter, the book in his hands forgotten. "how are you doing today?"
"I'm fine, thanks," She gave him a smile and made her way to the refrigerator section. She opened the door, goose bumps covering her arms as the cold air washed over her. She pulled out a bottle of water.
"Is this all?" She nodded as she dropped the bottle of water and a Popsicle she had gotten from the freezer onto the table. She paid and thanked the man before opening the door and reemerging into the hot Mexican air. She slipped her water into her bag, keeping the Popsicle out. She walked down the block, turning into a narrow alleyway. A small girl was playing outside while her mother was hanging clothes next to her. Sydney smiled at girl, walking over.
"Hola, Maria." Sydney bent down, handing the girl the Popsicle. The girl smiled, showing her missing front teeth. She thanked Sydney, and ran off to show her mother. Sydney turned, pulling out her keys, opening an old chipped red door.
"Gracias, Ann," The woman gave Sydney a smile, moving back to her clothes hanging. Sydney nodded and walked into the small apartment. She had lived here for two months now. It was working out well, except now she was out of a job. No worries, though. She would have to move soon anyway. She set her keys down on the old wooden table in the small kitchen, as well as her bag. She pulled off her hat and sunglasses, and took out the bottle of water before walking into the bedroom.
The apartment was small, only a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, a short hallway, and a balcony. But it didn't matter; she didn't spend that much time here. She was always out, either working or just out walking. And thinking. She uncapped the bottle, taking a long drink before throwing it onto her bed. She opened the door to her balcony, walking out and sitting on the white plastic chair that was waiting for her. Her thoughts were bouncing around in her head. One thought in particular was of the visit she had had from Simon a few days ago.
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She had just gotten off from her work at the clinic. Her feet were sore, and all she wanted was a nice, long shower. Of course, that would never happen. She was Sydney Bristow. Nothing in her life was easy. She had gotten home, opened the door and was surprised to find Simon sitting in her kitchen. He looked tired, and he hadn't shaved in a couple of days.
"Simon," She sat down across from him, "what are you doing here?"
"Babe," He gave her a smile, "haven't seen you in a couple of months."
"That's because I left, Si." She looked out the window, away from his face.
"Yeah, there was that." He shrugged. "Old news."
"Does he know where I am?" They both knew who "he" meant.
"No," Simon spoke, "Took some almighty shit to find you, babe. I think he's… waiting. But he'll come soon, that I'm sure of." Sydney nodded. So was she. They were both silent for awhile.
"How's Nikolai?" Sydney finally spoke, still gazing out of the window.
"Still in the coma," Simon said softly, "but he's doing fine. They said he should wake up soon, or never. You know how doctors are. But you know, Julian-"
"No," She turned back to him, her eyes cold, "I don't want to hear anything about him."
"Babe-"
"Simon," She shook her head, "don't." He sighed; nodded.
"What's wrong?" She met his eyes. "You look tired." He looked away for a moment.
"Uh, well…" He cleared his throat, "Did I ever tell you I had a daughter?" Sydney gaped at him, shocked. It was quiet for a moment.
"You have a daughter?" She finally managed. Simon nodded.
"She's about eight now," He pulled out his wallet, picking through it until he found what he was looking for. He handed a picture to Sydney. She took it, gazing at the woman and girl. The woman looked to be in her thirties, dark hair and eyes. The girl had the same hair and eyes, they were both smiling. She looked up after a moment.
"Is that her mother?" He nodded. "How… I mean, are you in contact with them?"
"No," He sighed, "no. Shannon was a security expert, we had a job together, things happened. She told me she was pregnant and that she was dropping out of the business. We agreed that it would be better if I didn't contact them."
"Wow," Sydney was still stunned. Simon has a daughter?
"Yeah, well…" He rubbed a hand over his face, "I just got a letter a few days ago. Shannon's dead." Oh… shit.
"Dead? How?"
"Car accident," He replied.
"I'm sorry." He shrugged.
"Shit happens." He said, "But that's not all. She left… she left her to me."
"She?" Sydney asked, "As in your daughter?" Simon nodded.
"Shannon would send me one letter a year." He glanced at the picture on the table, "but this year it didn't come, until finally a letter came two months late." He pulled a white envelope out of his jacket, sliding it to Sydney. At his nod she opened it, unfolding the letter,
Simon-
If you're reading this, I'm dead. Take care of her, she's yours.
-Shannon
Sydney slid the letter back into the envelope. She slid it back across the table to Simon. He slipped it back into his pocket.
"What are you going to do?" She finally asked.
"Well, it would seem like I'm going to have to raise… my daughter." Sydney nodded.
"What's her name?"
"Ciara."
"It's a beautiful name." Sydney stood, getting a bottle of water from her fridge. "When are you going to get her?"
"On my way now, actually." He gave her a small smile. "Thought I'd stop by and see how you were doing."
"That all?" Sydney raised an eyebrow, not believing.
"No." Simon shrugged, "I wanted to ask you something too."
"Oh, what's that?" She took a drink of water, watching him.
"Sydney, I understand you're upset, but you can't cut Julian out. This isn't just about you anymore. He deserves a chance. I can honestly tell you I wish I'd been there when my daughter grew up. I missed out on so much-"
"Simon," Sydney cut him off, "I don't want to hear about Sark, so stop babbling."
"Syd, this baby-"
Sydney choked on her water, spitting it onto the floor. She looked up at Simon, shocked.
"What baby?" Simon paused, unsure what to say.
"Uh… the baby you're pregnant with?" Sydney closed her eyes, sighing. She opened them, meeting Simon's eyes.
"Simon, I am not pregnant." She shook her head along with her words.
"You aren't? But-"
"We had sex once-" She cleared her throat, a flush covering her face, "a couple of times. That doesn't mean I'm pregnant."
"But the prophecy-"
"The prophecy is a load of shit, Simon." She sat down, looking tired. "Simon, I'm not pregnant, I'm not going back, and I think you should leave." Simon watched her for a moment.
"Syd, I didn't just come here for Jul, I came here because I need your help." He looked helpless, "I don't know how to raise a kid. You're a woman. You can help me!" He gave her a hopeful smile. She couldn't help but smile back, she shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Simon, but I can't." He nodded, looking defeated.
"Right, I understand. But when," He caught her look, "if you come back, the door's always open." He stood, heading for the door. Sydney called his name, he stopped. She ran over to him, handing him the photo he had left on the table. She gave him a quick hug, backing off. He was almost out the door when she spoke again.
"She looks just like you, Si."
TBC...
