Tomorrow's Promise

Chapter Twenty – Family Reunion

Sark phoned Sydney as he promised and directed her to an abandoned waterfront warehouse.  She hadn't told Sloane or Vaughn where she was going.  Sloane understood.  Vaughn did not.

Sark warned that if she brought any weapons with her they would be used on her father.  She sat in her SUV rolling the lipstick tube back and forth in her palm.  She still remembered the briefing when Marshall had given it to her.

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Marshall rolled the lipstick across the table to her.  "I don't wear this brand, Marshall," she said.

Marshall giggled nervously.  "That's okay, Miss Bristow, because you definitely don't want to wear that lipstick."  He grinned enthusiastically.  "Go ahead an open it."

Sydney pulled the cap off the lipstick to find a miniature gun barrel.  "It's an oldie but a goodie -- a fully functioning gun developed by the KGB during the cold war," Marshall reported.  "You need to be in close range to use this – it's more difficult to aim than a standard gun.  And, there are only two bullets."

"This can stop an attacker?" Sydney asked skeptically.

"Uh, yes.  That can kill somebody," Marshall said.  "Yes, that's right, Miss Bristow.  That lipstick can deliver the kiss of death."  Marshall flashed his trademark grin.

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Sydney tucked the lipstick in between the waistband of her jeans and her hip bone and said a prayer of thanks for Marshall.

Sydney entered the warehouse and stepped into the darkness.  The door slowly closed behind her.  She stood still trying to adjust to the darkness.

"Lovely to see you again, Miss Bristow."  Even though she couldn't see him, Sydney knew it was Sark.  Another figure approached her, stopped well out of her reach and pointed a gun at her head.

Sark walked up to Sydney and stopped within inches of her.  He looked down into her face and smirked.  Her eyes had finally become accustomed to the low light and she could clearly make out his features.  With each breath she could smell the combination of his scent and his cologne.  Under different circumstances, it might have been pleasant instead of nauseating.

Suddenly an image of Sark came to her.  He approached her in the same manner.  He smirked at her exactly the same way.  "Blue really isn't your color."

She remembered him!  Sydney was overwhelmed with anxiety as she experienced all the emotions associated with the memory.

Sark put his hands on her shoulders and slid them down her arms, then back up on the underside of her arms.  Sydney pushed her anxiety aside and tried to regain her calm.  "Don't you trust me?" she asked as Sark continued to search for weapons.

Sark gave her an abbreviated laugh.  Then he squatted down to run his hands down the outside of legs, around her ankles, and up the inside of her legs.  As he stood up again, Sark let his hand linger a fraction longer where her thighs met.

"You don't remember me, do you, Miss Bristow."  Sark moved his hands around her hips and onto her butt.

"Why in the world would I want to?" Sydney replied calmly.

Sark laughed casually.  He moved his hands to the small of her back and gently pulled her closer to him so that their bodies were touching.  His fingers inched slowly around her waist.  Sydney was filled with dread as Sark's fingers found the lipstick.  Sark smiled, "What have we here?"

Keeping one hand on Sydney's hips, he pulled away a little to examine the lipstick.  "Did you bring this for me, love?" he asked playfully.  "Well, as far as I'm concerned, you're perfectly kissable just the way you are."  He took the cap off and saw the gun barrel.  "You did bring this for me, didn't you?"  Sark laughed and put the lipstick in his pocket.

Sark returned his other hand to her hips and pressed his body lightly against hers.  They stared at each other for what seemed to be an eternity to Sydney.  "Satisfied?" she asked sardonically.

"Mmmmm, not yet, love," he said as he bit his bottom lip and raised an eyebrow.  He finally let her go, turned his back on her and walked farther into the warehouse.  "Come along, dear," he called to her over his shoulder.

Sydney eyed the other man and his gun and then dutifully followed Sark.  The other man followed her keeping the gun steady on her head.  Sark led her into a large open area of the warehouse.  The area was poorly lit.  The only source of light was an occasional stray sunbeam pouring in through a whole in the roof. 

Sark stopped and motioned for her to come closer.  He put his hand on her shoulder and applied force pushing her down to a kneeling position.

"Cross your ankles," Sark commanded.  Sydney complied.  Sark leaned down to her and slowly ran his hands over her arms, pulling them backwards.  He bent them at the elbows, put her left hand on her right elbow and her right hand on her left elbow.  He leaned down and whispered in her ear, "It would behoove you to stay just like that."

Another image flashed.  She was lying down and he was leaning over her whispering in her ear.  "Someday darling…" then a sudden sharp pain in her bicep.  The anxiety and emotions washed over Sydney again.

Sark stood up, but remained next to her with his hand on her shoulder.  A door at the far end of the room opened and three figures approached her.  Two men were dragging Jack towards her.  They dropped him to the floor about 12 feet in front of her.  He was unconscious, and his arms still bound behind him.  He looked worse than he had on the video.  More cuts.  More bruises.  Unnaturally pale.  Shallow breathing.

The two men made a retreat as another figure approached Jack – a woman.  She held a pitcher over Jack's face and started pouring cold water over him.  Jack barely managed to wake up.  And when he did, he was still unable to move away from the water.  He started choking and gasped for air.

Sydney's heart sank as she was forced to watch her father struggle.  Suddenly images of her childhood raced through her mind.  Dancing around the living room with him, her petite feet resting on top of his.  Him trying to teach her to hit a softball.  A walk in the park.  More emotions.  More anxiety.

Shortly after the woman poured the last of the water on Jack, one of the men stepped up and pulled Jack up to a kneeling position.  Jack struggled to hold himself upright.  Sydney and Jack were now facing each other, both kneeling.  Sydney could see his eyes.  He stared right through her like she wasn't even there.

Another memory.  Talking with her father and Vaughn after they had rescued her from the DSR.  Telling him that her mother could have survived the car crash.  How she had known  just what to do in the same situation.  His face had filled with concern… or was it fear?  Increasing anxiety.

"Let him go now," Sydney addressed Sark while keeping her eyes on her father as if she could protect him with just her stare.  "I'm not giving you the necklace until I know he's safe."

"Sydney," a female voice pulled her attention away from her dad.  "Surely you have evaluated the situation.  You are not in control here.  I am." 

The woman who had poured the water over Jack moved towards her.  With each click of her high heels on the cement floor, another memory attacked Sydney.  "I was the reason you were recruited by SD-6."  "You will be an excellent asset for us."  "I know you… you are my daughter."

Sydney's legs became weak as she realized the woman was her mother.  It was her mother who had kidnapped and tortured Will.  She was the one who had involved Noah in it.  Her mother had taken her father hostage and turned him into the weakened shell that Sydney saw before her.

Her mother was the man.