Title: Tears
Author:Vona
Disclaimer: None of them are mine, J.J. Abrams owns them all.
Pairing: It's not exactly a romance. Sydney and Sark talk, but it's not like they get together or anything.
Rating: G
Summary: Set after The Indicator. What would have happened if instead of Sydney going to Vaughn, she had run into Sark? This is what it's about.
Feedback: I love it!
TEARS
Sydney stumbled dejectedly into Francie's restaurant. She had dried her eyes momentarily, but she was still soaked through from the rain drops. Francie rushed over to her.
"Sydney! Are you okay, Sweetie? You look terrible!"
"Yeah. Can I sit down and have a drink or something?"
"Of course!"
Francie led her away to a booth in the corner.
"What do you want?"
Sydney closed her eyes, thinking back to something Sark had once said, "Spying is like a Petreuse, it gets better in time."
"Some Petreuse, Fran. Thanks."
Francie gave her a glass and a bottle. Sydney stared into the dark purple liquid as she poured it.
"Can I help you with anything else, Syd? Do you want to talk?"
"I just want to be alone right now."
Francie nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Sydney nursed on her wine, her mind wandering to her father. A single tear fell. She closed her eyes, trying to stop her tears. She heard a softly British accented voice break through the cloud, "Miss Bristow, I came here to patronize you and your friends, but here you are, alone and crying. You sure know how to spoil a night."
Sydney cradled her head in her hands.
"Go away, Sark."
"I'm flattered. You didn't even have to look to see that it was me."
"You're voice is like a mosquito in my ear."
He slid in next to her.
"Go away, Mr. Sark." Sydney said with more authority.
"So, we're done with our witticisms already."
"I'm not in the mood to fight you."
"Good, because I might almost feel guilty if I had to fight you in this condition."
He examined the wine bottle. "Petreuse 1975. Good choice."
Sydney rolled her eyes.
"Just leave me alone."
"I can't do that, Sydney. Why don't tell me what is bothering you?"
Sydney snorted. "Like I'd tell you anything."
"I am the only one here who knows everything about you. You want to talk to someone. Here I am."
Sydney held back a sob.
"Can't you leave me in peace? At least while I'm miserable."
"No, I can't. Especially when you're this miserable."
Sydney felt herself relaxing. She blamed it on the alcohol, because she knew it couldn't possibly be that she felt comfortable with Mr. Sark.
"Right. You just wish you had caused this misery." She scoffed.
He shrugged. "You don't have to believe me."
They felt silent. She sipped her wine again. Sark took the glass and took a long drink.
"Get your own." She grabbed it away from him. The bottle was almost gone. She was becoming considerably drunk. Sark knew it was only moments until she spilled her guts. She was crying steadily. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. She cried out, "He used me."
"Who did?"
"My father."
"How?"
"Have you heard of Project Christmas? Ever?"
"Irina mentioned it a couple of times. Children were trained to be spies when..."
She nodded.
"You?"
"My mom had just 'died'. I was scared lonely and terrified that my dad would leave me, too. I was only six. He programmed me. The languages, the guns, the fighting. He did it all and he tried to hide it. I was starting to trust him. We were repairing our relationship. I thought he wanted to protect me, but he only wanted to protect his secret."
Sark rubbed her back lightly and kissed the top of her head.
"He used me. His own daughter. He betrayed my trust. I don't know if I ever made my own choices. Maybe he programmed me for everything."
Sark pulled her even closer. She clutched his well tailored jacket and breathed in his overpriced cologne.
"You know what makes me even angrier?"
"No."
"I didn't choose this life. I was forced into it, unconciously. If I hadn't, maybe I would be a teacher by now, married to Danny, totally disillusioned to the real world, my mother's truth."
"Is that what you would want? Oblivious to the truth, unable to help take down SD-6. You've always wanted to be adventurous and now you have your chance. You risk your life all the time and it thrills you."
Sydney shook her head.
"You are still the incredibly talented, brilliant, and beautiful Sydney Bristow, my only worthy opponent. Don't start doubting your whole life because of this. You are who you are. I believe you will always choose your own destiny, life. You did, even if your father pushed you a bit. Now, I'm not excusing what he did to you, but I think you are responsible for the situations you are in."
Sydney glanced at him and looked into his blue eyes.
"Why did I tell you all of this?" She felt so exposed now.
"Two reasons, really."
"Oh?"
"The second reason, you know I won't divuldge any of the information you just relayed to me."
"And the first?"
"The most important reason. You're drunk."
Sydney giggled a little.
"You are absolutely correct."
She buried her head into his chest.
"You smell good."
He began to smile, almost. He noticed she was shivering.
"You're cold."
"I'm sopping wet."
He removed his coat and gently laid it around her. She closed her eyes and sighed. Her tears were drying slowly. Her breathing steadied and he realized she had fallen asleep. He tried not to move too much. He picked up the wine and swirled it in the glass before taking another gulp.
Francie had been watching Sydney and the blond man speak. He had an everlasting look of mischief on his face and he could probably charm his way through anything with a smile like that. Sydney was crying then and the man held her. Did Sydney have a new boyfriend? Francie couldn't decide. Certainly Sydney would have mentioned it, but then again Sydney wasn't always forthcoming on her life. So she called Will.
"Will! You have to come down to the restaurant! I think Sydney's got a boyfriend!"
"A boyfriend?" Will sounded crushed.
"Well, I don't know that for a fact. They were talking and he hugged her. He's cute. Blond, tall."
Will settled down a bit. Maybe it was Michael Vaughn.
"I'm on my way, Fran."
Will hung up and rushed to get to the restaurant.
Will hurred inside. "Will! Hey! She's over there!"
Will looked over to the booth.
"I think she's asleep." Francie commented.
Will turned a deathly white and then he felt his blood begin to boil. There was no way Sydney could sleep through all of this commotion, especially with Sark there. He stormed.
"Mr. Sark!" He exclaimed, with false bravado.
"Mr. Tippin." Sark replied, quietly,careful not to wake Sydney.
"What did you do to her?"
"Miss Bristow is simply exhausted. Far be it for me to keep her from resting."
"Did you drug her?"
Sark rolled his eyes.
"I appreciate that you are to be noble, but there is no call for it now. I am going to take her, so she can sleep more comfortably."
"I am not letting you take her anywhere."
Sark had already slid carefully out of the booth, still supporting Sydney. He pointed to the gun that lay at his side in the holster. "I don't believe you want me to use this in your friend's lovely new establishment. You will be dead and it would give her restaurant a terrible reputation."
"Sydney would hate you if you did that."
"Sydney already hates me. It doesn't bother me in the least. Now I am leaving with her."
Sydney mumbled lightly as he picked her up. She clutched onto Sark's jacket, holding it close. She wrapped another arm around his neck, cuddling her head into his shoulder. He bestowed a soft look on her before leaving the restaurant.
She was drying out slowly, but Sark knew he couldn't change her clothes. He unmade her fluffy bed and laid her down in it. He removed her shoes and wrapped her in the sheets and comforter. She settled into the pillows witha slight groan and she held on even tighter to his jacket. She seemed to like having it close. He smoothed her hair away from her face and he furnished a thorny red rose he had bought on the way to her house and placed it next to her on another pillow. He thought the thorns would represent a lot in their tumultuous relationship. If you called what they had a relationship. He just hoped she would be able to remember their conversation tomorrow and remember it fondly. He kissed her forehead gently before disappearing into the night.
Author:Vona
Disclaimer: None of them are mine, J.J. Abrams owns them all.
Pairing: It's not exactly a romance. Sydney and Sark talk, but it's not like they get together or anything.
Rating: G
Summary: Set after The Indicator. What would have happened if instead of Sydney going to Vaughn, she had run into Sark? This is what it's about.
Feedback: I love it!
TEARS
Sydney stumbled dejectedly into Francie's restaurant. She had dried her eyes momentarily, but she was still soaked through from the rain drops. Francie rushed over to her.
"Sydney! Are you okay, Sweetie? You look terrible!"
"Yeah. Can I sit down and have a drink or something?"
"Of course!"
Francie led her away to a booth in the corner.
"What do you want?"
Sydney closed her eyes, thinking back to something Sark had once said, "Spying is like a Petreuse, it gets better in time."
"Some Petreuse, Fran. Thanks."
Francie gave her a glass and a bottle. Sydney stared into the dark purple liquid as she poured it.
"Can I help you with anything else, Syd? Do you want to talk?"
"I just want to be alone right now."
Francie nodded and disappeared into the crowd. Sydney nursed on her wine, her mind wandering to her father. A single tear fell. She closed her eyes, trying to stop her tears. She heard a softly British accented voice break through the cloud, "Miss Bristow, I came here to patronize you and your friends, but here you are, alone and crying. You sure know how to spoil a night."
Sydney cradled her head in her hands.
"Go away, Sark."
"I'm flattered. You didn't even have to look to see that it was me."
"You're voice is like a mosquito in my ear."
He slid in next to her.
"Go away, Mr. Sark." Sydney said with more authority.
"So, we're done with our witticisms already."
"I'm not in the mood to fight you."
"Good, because I might almost feel guilty if I had to fight you in this condition."
He examined the wine bottle. "Petreuse 1975. Good choice."
Sydney rolled her eyes.
"Just leave me alone."
"I can't do that, Sydney. Why don't tell me what is bothering you?"
Sydney snorted. "Like I'd tell you anything."
"I am the only one here who knows everything about you. You want to talk to someone. Here I am."
Sydney held back a sob.
"Can't you leave me in peace? At least while I'm miserable."
"No, I can't. Especially when you're this miserable."
Sydney felt herself relaxing. She blamed it on the alcohol, because she knew it couldn't possibly be that she felt comfortable with Mr. Sark.
"Right. You just wish you had caused this misery." She scoffed.
He shrugged. "You don't have to believe me."
They felt silent. She sipped her wine again. Sark took the glass and took a long drink.
"Get your own." She grabbed it away from him. The bottle was almost gone. She was becoming considerably drunk. Sark knew it was only moments until she spilled her guts. She was crying steadily. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her to him. She cried out, "He used me."
"Who did?"
"My father."
"How?"
"Have you heard of Project Christmas? Ever?"
"Irina mentioned it a couple of times. Children were trained to be spies when..."
She nodded.
"You?"
"My mom had just 'died'. I was scared lonely and terrified that my dad would leave me, too. I was only six. He programmed me. The languages, the guns, the fighting. He did it all and he tried to hide it. I was starting to trust him. We were repairing our relationship. I thought he wanted to protect me, but he only wanted to protect his secret."
Sark rubbed her back lightly and kissed the top of her head.
"He used me. His own daughter. He betrayed my trust. I don't know if I ever made my own choices. Maybe he programmed me for everything."
Sark pulled her even closer. She clutched his well tailored jacket and breathed in his overpriced cologne.
"You know what makes me even angrier?"
"No."
"I didn't choose this life. I was forced into it, unconciously. If I hadn't, maybe I would be a teacher by now, married to Danny, totally disillusioned to the real world, my mother's truth."
"Is that what you would want? Oblivious to the truth, unable to help take down SD-6. You've always wanted to be adventurous and now you have your chance. You risk your life all the time and it thrills you."
Sydney shook her head.
"You are still the incredibly talented, brilliant, and beautiful Sydney Bristow, my only worthy opponent. Don't start doubting your whole life because of this. You are who you are. I believe you will always choose your own destiny, life. You did, even if your father pushed you a bit. Now, I'm not excusing what he did to you, but I think you are responsible for the situations you are in."
Sydney glanced at him and looked into his blue eyes.
"Why did I tell you all of this?" She felt so exposed now.
"Two reasons, really."
"Oh?"
"The second reason, you know I won't divuldge any of the information you just relayed to me."
"And the first?"
"The most important reason. You're drunk."
Sydney giggled a little.
"You are absolutely correct."
She buried her head into his chest.
"You smell good."
He began to smile, almost. He noticed she was shivering.
"You're cold."
"I'm sopping wet."
He removed his coat and gently laid it around her. She closed her eyes and sighed. Her tears were drying slowly. Her breathing steadied and he realized she had fallen asleep. He tried not to move too much. He picked up the wine and swirled it in the glass before taking another gulp.
Francie had been watching Sydney and the blond man speak. He had an everlasting look of mischief on his face and he could probably charm his way through anything with a smile like that. Sydney was crying then and the man held her. Did Sydney have a new boyfriend? Francie couldn't decide. Certainly Sydney would have mentioned it, but then again Sydney wasn't always forthcoming on her life. So she called Will.
"Will! You have to come down to the restaurant! I think Sydney's got a boyfriend!"
"A boyfriend?" Will sounded crushed.
"Well, I don't know that for a fact. They were talking and he hugged her. He's cute. Blond, tall."
Will settled down a bit. Maybe it was Michael Vaughn.
"I'm on my way, Fran."
Will hung up and rushed to get to the restaurant.
Will hurred inside. "Will! Hey! She's over there!"
Will looked over to the booth.
"I think she's asleep." Francie commented.
Will turned a deathly white and then he felt his blood begin to boil. There was no way Sydney could sleep through all of this commotion, especially with Sark there. He stormed.
"Mr. Sark!" He exclaimed, with false bravado.
"Mr. Tippin." Sark replied, quietly,careful not to wake Sydney.
"What did you do to her?"
"Miss Bristow is simply exhausted. Far be it for me to keep her from resting."
"Did you drug her?"
Sark rolled his eyes.
"I appreciate that you are to be noble, but there is no call for it now. I am going to take her, so she can sleep more comfortably."
"I am not letting you take her anywhere."
Sark had already slid carefully out of the booth, still supporting Sydney. He pointed to the gun that lay at his side in the holster. "I don't believe you want me to use this in your friend's lovely new establishment. You will be dead and it would give her restaurant a terrible reputation."
"Sydney would hate you if you did that."
"Sydney already hates me. It doesn't bother me in the least. Now I am leaving with her."
Sydney mumbled lightly as he picked her up. She clutched onto Sark's jacket, holding it close. She wrapped another arm around his neck, cuddling her head into his shoulder. He bestowed a soft look on her before leaving the restaurant.
She was drying out slowly, but Sark knew he couldn't change her clothes. He unmade her fluffy bed and laid her down in it. He removed her shoes and wrapped her in the sheets and comforter. She settled into the pillows witha slight groan and she held on even tighter to his jacket. She seemed to like having it close. He smoothed her hair away from her face and he furnished a thorny red rose he had bought on the way to her house and placed it next to her on another pillow. He thought the thorns would represent a lot in their tumultuous relationship. If you called what they had a relationship. He just hoped she would be able to remember their conversation tomorrow and remember it fondly. He kissed her forehead gently before disappearing into the night.