Story: Beyond All Limits

Author: Steph (stephanie406@juno.com)

Disclaimer: Don't own Alias, or any characters thus portrayed. It all belongs to JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Productions, ABC, etc.

Rating: PG-13 (for now)

Spoilers/Summary : post "After Thirty Years"; Vaughn's alive, and Sydney's been captured

Distribution: I'd love it if you would, just let me know where it's going! CD definitely has all rights to posting (grin)

Sydney finally awoke, fighting past the heavy curtain that had held her in her drug induced slumber. Her mouth was dry. Her muscles were sore and screamed in protestation at still being handcuffed behind her. And now, to top it all off, her feet were tied to the legs of the chair and she'd been tied in around her waist.

She blinked. Man. That stuff they'd given her… powerful stuff it was. She hadn't been surprised in the least to see her old friend the Taiwanese dentist appear with another syringe of that stuff that had knocked her out so well the last time she'd been so unfortunate as to see him. She had noticed that he looked a little worse for the wear… didn't seem as sadistic as he was the last time. And he had a strange looking bandage on his neck and was walking kind of funny. Something to think about at any rate.

Slowly, carefully, she gently shook her head, trying to clear out the cobwebs. Her vision was blurry and she felt fuzzy all over… tingly actually. That couldn't be good could it? Ugh. After some more blinking, Sydney was finally able to look at her surroundings and focus her sight.

At first, she stared uncomprehendingly at what she saw. And as it began to dawn on her as to where she was, she became horrified and creeped out to no end.

The walls were dirt colored and looked to be made of stone or hardened clay. And there were paintings on the walls. Lots of them. Distinctly graphic depictions.

She was in an ancient Egyptian tomb—more commonly known as a pyramid.

Long forgotten and buried memories came flooding back. Bedtime biblical stories centered in Egypt. Invented tales involving Egyptian culture and lore. Dressing as Cleopatra for Halloween one year, complete with a snake bracelet her mother had lent her that Sydney had been so fascinated with that she'd fiddled with it all night. Memories of how her mother's eyes had shone every time she saw or read or talked anything regarding ancient Egyptian times.

Sydney hadn't thought about her mother's obsession in years (and obsession was the only word that could aptly describe her mother's fascination). And now that she could look back on her childhood, she realized that it was the only thing her mother had ever allowed herself to express any sort of interest in other than novels (being that it was pertinent to her cover and all). And apparently, it was the obsession she'd never given up in all these years.

'Please Dad, remember Egypt!' she prayed. It was her only chance.

Sydney heard approaching footsteps. Normally, there'd be a door to open, but this was a pyramid, not a normal building. There were only archways. So Sydney didn't bother to acknowledge the new arrival.

"Ah. Awake at last, are we Sydney? I must admit, it is good to see you again so soon." Sark strolled casually towards her, stopping in front of her. Sydney met his gaze defiantly but didn't say anything. He face held a leering expression as his gaze raked up and down her body.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to make ugly faces at people? It might get stuck like that. Although, I must admit I'd rather enjoy that" she bit back. She couldn't help it. He was eyeing her like she was a piece of meat and he a dog that was near starvation. And she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her squirm under his gaze.

He 'tsk tsked' her. "Sydney my love, what levels you stoop to." He paused for a moment. "I don't believe that your father had the chance to pass along my message to you, did he?"

Sydney didn't take the bait. Rule Número Uno of being a spy: Never Take the Bait. Because if they bothered enough to mention something, then it was brought up for a reason. Bragging, intimidation, to threaten… for any number of reasons. They would eventually expound upon their statements in due time. They always did. Thus, Sydney's face remained passive and emotionless.

"Such composure you possess, love. What energy you must expend at my expense to appear as if you are not intrigued." He walked a slow circle around her, lightly tracing the bare skin of her back as his hand moved from shoulder to shoulder, before lifting his hand to caress her cheek with the softest of touches.

Sydney gritted her teeth, and he grinned in satisfaction when he felt the muscles in her cheek tightening in response to him.

"As I was saying" he continued, moving to lean casually against the wall in front of her, totally disregarding the precious ancient art decorating the wall. "I told your father to relay my great appreciation of your performance in Paris."

His gaze was roaming her body blatantly… again. Sydney felt like hurling, but she knew there was nothing in her stomach.

"In fact, you have a particularly lovely…" he trailed off, moving towards her again. He stood behind her, out of sight. But she knew he was there, standing so close he could practically touch her. In fact, her fingers were brushing against the fabric of his pants. Much to her horror, his hand appeared over her shoulder and moved down, his finger slowly making it's way across her chest, tracing the line where skin ended and the tank top began. "A lovely singing voice" he finished.

Sydney wanted to be sick. She wanted to be able to pull her knees to her chest and protectively wrap her arms around herself. She wanted to be warm, because all the sudden, she was shivering with disgust and cold. Goosebumps rose on her arms and legs. Or she assumed they did, because, although she couldn't see them, she felt their presence.

Sark moved away, appearing in her vision once again, his grin of self-satisfaction so large that he reminded her of the Cheshire Cat from Alice and Wonderland.

"What do you want?" she finally broke down and asked. This may not have been a traditional session of torture, but she wanted to speed it along so he'd leave. So, bye bye Rule Número Uno. You didn't quite work so well this time.

And if it was possible, his grin grew wider. "Ah, my love, it's about time you decided to play this game my way. As for what I want? Keep playing my way and you shall find out soon enough."

Rule Número Dos of being a spy: Don't Let Your Interrogators Discover Any Information That Can Be Used Against You So As to Break Will, Thus Releasing the True Information Sought.

Well, that could be a problem. She'd broken that one already. Actually, she hadn't had a prayer of a chance to break that one, because her captors already knew so much about her, seeing as how her own mother was head of this operation.

Sark was leaning towards her. With a growing sense of unease, Sydney tried to turn her face away from his in time. But he captured her chin easily and held it in place as he leaned in and kissed her.

"Just as soft as they looked, love. Although" he voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper as he released her chin, "it's such a shame your dear handler won't get to have them."

And then he was gone.

Sydney drew a tremorous breath in, and tears began to well in her eyes. A sob tore through her. That they didn't know she'd already kissed Vaughn (short and well intentioned as it may have been) was little comfort to her. Because if they had their way, she'd never have a chance to give Vaughn any more than that 'thank you I'm so glad you're still alive' kiss.

And to think she'd decided she could never kiss him again until this spy shit life was over with. If she'd had any inkling of what the past day was going to hold for her… if she'd known a single thing about what would happen… Instead all she'd done is give him that one kiss, told him she loved him, and then she'd walked away. If she'd known anything about anything, instead of single chaste kiss in the ducts, she'd have torn his clothes off and made love to him in the ducts if that's what it took. Or attacked him like she'd wished she could when she'd seen him with his back turned to her, wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers and socks.

Oh dear God…

Sydney began fervently praying to every high power she could think of. She'd need all the help she could get if she was to survive what was next, that much she knew…

'I love you' she thought. She cried… too many tears in too short a time period.

~*Author's Note*~ Ah…. Sorry the chapter's been so long in coming. Truly, it's a stall method, I think… I have another chapter and a half written after this, so it may be slow going for a bit… But then again, I shall remind you wonderful people that LOTS of feedback will greatly encourage me to keep on writing (now of course, it would also be wonderful if someone could do something to my dear coworkers so that they'd stop giving me things to do so I'd have TIME to write…) Anyways, feedback as always, and I love you guys *mwah*