Author: Vona
Title: Memories
Feeback: I love it, so please to review.
Pairing: S/S
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own them. Shocking I know, I'm still living in denial. J.J. Abrams owns it all.
Rating: G
Summary: Sark looks back on his anniversary. Angst, drama, sadness...it's all in this one.
Memories
Andrew Sark parked his convertible in front of the heavy, metal gate. He lifted up the wine glass, bottle, and flowers from the passenger seat and trodded heavily through the entrance. He adeptly found where he wanted to go. Next to Daniel Hecht and Francine Calfo laid Sydney Bristow's body. A granite angel adorned the gravesite, a symbol of Sydney's life. She was an angel, saving her friends, her country, and himself. He gently placed the snow white lilies onto the green grass. His hands smoothed over her name etched into the hard stone, Sydney Alexandra Sark. He popped open the bottle of Petreuse and poured himself a glass. He took a seat on the hard ground, watching the gravestone steadily, letting the liquid glide down his throat.
"Hey, Sydney. I miss you so much. You know what today is, don't you? Our first anniversary. You should be here with me, to celebrate our love, but you're not."
Sark felt tears spring to his eyes. He hadn't cried since the day he had found her, two months after their wedding day. His sipped the purple wine, letting his tears fall freely, oblivious to his surroundings. It was rare for him to ignore what occurred around him, but today was about his grief. He should be going home and preparing for a romantic evening. Candles, the beach, dancing, all of it. But instead, he was in a cemetary, mourning the death of his 27-year-old wife. He leaned against the stone, reminiscing.
*"I'm sorry we couldn't get married in a real church."
Sydney's brown eyes were sparkling, despite Sark's words.
"I know why we can't have a big wedding. It's partially my fault. All that really matters is that we're getting married." Sydney answered, truthfully.
Sark's blue eyes were warm puddles of water, eyeing Sydney with love and tenderness.
"You look beautiful."
Sydney blushed and glanced down bashfully at her knee-length pink dress. It wasn't exactly a wedding dress, heck, it wasn't even white, but it didn't matter to her. Every time Sark said something like that, she still blushed. Sark just had that affect on her. Sydney took his face in her hands and brushed her lips over her fiance's lips.
"Don't we have a wedding to attend?" Sark questioned playfully. He intwined their hands together and led her to the small courthouse. *
"I don't think you've ever looked more radiant. Except maybe when we admitted that we loved each other. I remember it so well."
*Sark pushed Sydney in front of him.
"RUN!" Her high heeled stilettos hit the pavement as they dashed through the dark city of Berlin. Sark fired his gun a couple of times. He saw one go down, but three still followed. All of a sudden, Sydney fumbled.
"My heel broke!"
"GO!" Sark ordered, knowing they didn't have time to stop to remove the shoes.
Sydney hopped on one foot, quite a feat to do in stilettos, jerking one heel off. Sark felt himself get frustrated. In a sweeping motion, he had lifted Sydney into his arms and continued to run.
"Get your other shoe off!"
The guards were catching up to them, the extra weight on Sark was slowing them both down.
"Throw your heel at them."
Sydney tossed it and hit one man in the head. Sark placed her on the ground and they sprinted away. They reached a well lit restaurant and walked in, trying to look normal. That was hard, considering Sark had a gun out and Sydney was walking barefoot, both out of breath. They managed to get through the restaurant and the kitchen, sneaking through the back door to a darkened street. Sydney began to chuckle. Sark smiled at her melodic laughter.
"I love you." Sydney blurted out.
Sark stopped walking.
"What?"
"I do. I've loved you for a long time."
"Indeed."
Sydney stepped to him, her breath catching in her throat. She managed to choke out, "Indeed? I admit that and you say indeed."
Sark pushed her black hair behind her ears and slowly pressed his mouth to hers.
"Mmmm..." They moaned in unison. Sark pulled away, Sydney's eyes looking like a young doe's, wide eyed and innocent.
"I love you, too, Sydney." Sark whispered into her ear before he began his trek to the extraction point.*
Sark tightly shut his eyes, willing to block everything he was feeling out. Things had been fine before Sydney. No emotions, nothing. But she had changed all that. The wine was half gone and Sark was well aware that he was getting drunk. He didn't care right then. All he wanted was his wife back. The only woman he ever loved and the only family he ever had. Not many were aware they were married. Francie had already died. Will knew, but tried to overlook it. Sydney had told her mother in confidentiality. Vaughn found out, and full of anger and hurt, informed both Kendall and Jack. Kendall actually took it much better than Jack. Perhaps that was because Sydney was not his daughter.
*Jack banged on the apartment door that Mr. Sark owned. The thought of that monster touching his daughter only fueled his anger. Sark answered the casually, not at all expecting an incredibly unhappy father on his doorstep.
"Sydney, love?" He called into a seemingly empty apartment.
"What is it, Andrew?" Her quiet voice answered.
"I don't think it's a secret anymore."
Sydney opened the bathroom door, tightening her thick yellow robe.
"Dad!"
She was as surprised to see Jack as Sark was.
"It is true. I was hoping Mr. Vaughn had incorrect sources."
"Vaughn knows?"
"Yes, he knows. As does Kendall."
"Dad, I can explain."
"You married a murderer, an enemy of the United States."
Sydney searched for the words to say, but could only come up with one.
"Yes."
"Did he hurt you, force you?"
Sark interjected at this point. "I resent you asking her that."
"I don't care if it offends you, Mr. Sark." Jack replied, hardly acknowledging the blond man.
"Do you care if it offends me, Dad?"
Jack faltered, considering her words.
"No."
"He hasn't hurt me. He won't. Dad, we love each other."
"He's using you. He only wants your secrets, to gain your trust to use it to his own advantage."
"He's not Mom!"
Jack's eyes widened, her obvious target hit. Jack turned and exited the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Sydney sighed, pain filling her heart. Sark gathered her into his arms to comfort her.*
"We went through a lot so we could have a few hours together. I just wish I could hold you in my arms one more time, comfort you one more time."
*"Francie!" Sydney screamed as she entered her house. In the foyer, Francie's body hung from the ceiling, a note attached.
BRING ME BACK THE SOFTWARE.
"Francie! Please! No...no...no"
She felt like everything was in slow motion. A familiar scent of expensive cologne attacked her senses. His strong arms led her away.
"Sark."
"Shh...I'm going to get her down."
Sark gently sat her down on the couch and slipped back into the hallway. He grabbed a hold of Sydney's best friend from the rope and laid her on the floor.
"Is she really gone?" Sydney's tired, fearful voice rang through the otherwise quiet house.
"She's really gone."
Sydney whimpered and tears started to stream down her milk white cheeks. "I'll find the person who did this." Sark promised, knowing he was speaking the truth. Sydney was in so much pain. Even if Sydney hated him, he wanted to protect her.
"It was James Freston."
"You know?"
"My last mission for SD-6 was to steal software from him. He saw me."
"Ah."
Sark walked to the couch and wrapped his arms around Sydney's heartbroken frame. She buried her head into his chest, clutching his suit jacket like a lifeline.*
"I wanted to help you so badly. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to, though. But we weren't together. You still hated me with such a fiery passion. I would have taken that hate compared to what you became. You totally shut down, which was understandable. I was so worried. I just didn't know how to help. But you bounced back. You always did. Except for when he got to you."
*"Lovie, you home?" Sark entered his comfortable apartment after work. Everything appeared to be in place, a quiet sound of a laugh track came from their bedroom. He smiled to himself. Sydney had the tendency to fall asleep the moment she sat still. With her schedule, who could blame her?
"Love? Wake up. I thought we could go out to dinner."
Sark stood in the door jam, watching the bed. Sydney didn't stir at all.
"Babe?"
Still no movement. Sark stepped closer to the bed.
"Sydney? Oh, no."
Sydney lay on the bed, a dark red pool surrounding her. Her soft brown hair was matted with the sticky red substance.
"No, Love, please. Oh, no, no, no."
Sark sat on the bed, lifting her body to him. He could feel the blood seep into his suit.
"Sydney! Sydney!"
The tears fell freely. They rolled down his cheek, one by one and dropped onto Sydney's forehead. This was the work of Arvin Sloane. They were so close to taking SD-6 down. Sydney had let him know as much. Plus, you could just tell. Sydney seemed happier, freer. He laid her back down onto the pillow, closed her precious brown eyes for the last time, and kissed her softly. He picked up the phone, smearing Sydney's blood over the plastic. Sark hardly took notice. He was in a daze.
"Vaughn."
"Mr. Vaughn, this is Mr. Sark."
"How did you get this number?"
Sark's voice took on his usual hard, nondescript tone.
"Sydney is at my apartment. She's dead. Please come and get her."
Vaughn could hear him moving the phone.
"Where are you going?"
Sark didn't answer him, simply disconnected the line. Sark cocked his gun and walked out the door, giving Sydney one last glance.*
"I went to SD-6, before the CIA took it down."
*Sark entered the Credit Dauphine building, his suit bloodied, his eyes holding an angry, far away look. Dixon saw this and knew something was wrong. He followed him to Sloane's office, as did a majority of the SD-6 floor. Sark burst into the office.
"You killed her."
Sloane looked up, a look of serenity on his face.
"She betrayed us, Mr. Sark. It had to be done."
"You betrayed her."
Sark raised his gun. Some shouts were heard outside the office, Dixon stepped in to remove the gun.
"This is for bringing Sydney into this life, for hurting her, and for killing her."
***BANG*** The office screamed out, a flurry of confusion and activity. Sloane slumped over in his chair, definitely dead. Sark pushed his way through the crowd, before anyone had enough sense to capture him.*
"I was glad to get rid of Sloane. If only I had done it sooner. If only the CIA had taken down SD-6 three days sooner. It did happen, though. Three days later. In the name of Sydney Bristow, Agent Weiss, Agent Bristow, Agent Vaughn, Agent Kendall, and several others stormed SD-6, while around the world, other branches of the Alliance were being stormed as well, taking down the Alliance. All in the name of Double Agent Bristow. I went to your funeral. It was a week after your death. You can imagine the warm reception I received."
*It was raining that day, and rightly so. The world had lost one of their angels. Irina was there. He was only slightly surprised to see her out of her glass cage. All the others were men. Kendall, Vaughn, Jack, Dixon, Marshall, Weiss, Will, they were all there. Sark entered the small gathering, but Jack blocked his path.
"You are not welcome here, Mr. Sark."
Irina put her hand on Jack's shoulder.
"Jack, Sydney loved him."
The usually stoic man's face broke and he held Irina close to him. "Our little girl is gone."
Irina was clearly shocked by his show of affection, but did nothing to discourage it.
"I know." Her tears mingled with her husband's as they clung to each other. Vaugh stood alone, far from any kind of contact. He stood there, his face contorted with an unimaginable pain, losing the woman he loved and facing the truth. But Sark knew something about that. The desire to be alone, to let it sink in, to wish her back. Will also stood off to the side, not exactly fitting in anywhere. He was Sydney's link to the normal life. Even though he knew the truth, he was her sense of normalcy in life. Weiss was there, out of respect for Sydney and friendship with Vaughn. Kendall was to give Jack the flag, the medals, with great ceremony for Sydney's bravery. Marshall, still in shock from the death of Sydney and the truth about SD-6, huddled near Dixon, a man he saw as a father figure and a comfort. Dixon had yet to explain things to his wife, so he too, was alone. Sark felt out of place with all of them. He wasn't CIA, he wasn't SD-6, and he was far from normal. But he was the one who possibly loved Sydney the most, and the one whom she loved the most. Sark bent down to the casket and opened the front part. Irina shot him a sympathetic smile as he dropped lilies into the casket with her. "They were her favorite," Sark said, his voice emotionless. He placed Sydney's diamond engagement ring on her left finger, the silver wedding band taking its rightful place. "You couldn't wear it before, it wasn't safe. I guess it's safe now." Sark reshut the casket and placed his own wedding band on his left finger. The funeral was over then, and one by one, they each left Sydney alone to be buried.*
Sark was slumped over, the wine totally gone. He was definitely drunk. He laid across the gravesite, wishing he could die. But no. His destiny was to live forever, miserably without Sydney; his punishment for all of the wrongs he had committed.
"I love you so much. I don't know how I've been able to live without you for so long. I don't want to live without you anymore."
He cradled his head in his arms, staring up at her name. Sydney Alexandra Sark. SAS. She did have a great deal of sass. He felt a chuckle erupt from his throat. Oh, no, he was not thinking clearly. He was thinking the thoughts of a very drunk man. He didn't care. The pain had numbed a bit, but not nearly enough. He began to wonder where he could get some more wine. He shouldn't drive. He did know that. He felt someone pulling him up by his arm.
"Mmmr-r. Tippin. Wha-what are you doo-oing here?" Sark slurred, uncomfortably.
"It's your anniversary." Will replied, calmly.
"How'd yo-ou know?"
"Sydney told me when you got married. I figured you would be here today. It was logical."
"Why'd you co-om-me?"
"I may hate you, but I can't leave you out here alone. Sydney wouldn't have wanted that. Come on. I'm taking you home."
Sark staggered towards Will's car, not even thinking that he was showing his enemy a weakness.
"I loved her." Sark stated, suddenly all traces of a slur and drunkeness disappearing. He stopped at the gate.
"We all did, Mr. Sark. Now get in the car."
Sark stumbled into the car, his slow, unstable movements returning, and Will opened the door, starting the engine. He heard Sark whisper, "Good bye, Sydney, Love."
Will felt a wave a sympathy run through him for that man. He quickly squashed the emotion, for this was the man who tortured him, and no matter how much he loved Sydney, he could never forgive this man. He drove them away from the cemetary, Sark looking back momentarily, as if hoping she would be there. But as always, she was still gone.
Title: Memories
Feeback: I love it, so please to review.
Pairing: S/S
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own them. Shocking I know, I'm still living in denial. J.J. Abrams owns it all.
Rating: G
Summary: Sark looks back on his anniversary. Angst, drama, sadness...it's all in this one.
Memories
Andrew Sark parked his convertible in front of the heavy, metal gate. He lifted up the wine glass, bottle, and flowers from the passenger seat and trodded heavily through the entrance. He adeptly found where he wanted to go. Next to Daniel Hecht and Francine Calfo laid Sydney Bristow's body. A granite angel adorned the gravesite, a symbol of Sydney's life. She was an angel, saving her friends, her country, and himself. He gently placed the snow white lilies onto the green grass. His hands smoothed over her name etched into the hard stone, Sydney Alexandra Sark. He popped open the bottle of Petreuse and poured himself a glass. He took a seat on the hard ground, watching the gravestone steadily, letting the liquid glide down his throat.
"Hey, Sydney. I miss you so much. You know what today is, don't you? Our first anniversary. You should be here with me, to celebrate our love, but you're not."
Sark felt tears spring to his eyes. He hadn't cried since the day he had found her, two months after their wedding day. His sipped the purple wine, letting his tears fall freely, oblivious to his surroundings. It was rare for him to ignore what occurred around him, but today was about his grief. He should be going home and preparing for a romantic evening. Candles, the beach, dancing, all of it. But instead, he was in a cemetary, mourning the death of his 27-year-old wife. He leaned against the stone, reminiscing.
*"I'm sorry we couldn't get married in a real church."
Sydney's brown eyes were sparkling, despite Sark's words.
"I know why we can't have a big wedding. It's partially my fault. All that really matters is that we're getting married." Sydney answered, truthfully.
Sark's blue eyes were warm puddles of water, eyeing Sydney with love and tenderness.
"You look beautiful."
Sydney blushed and glanced down bashfully at her knee-length pink dress. It wasn't exactly a wedding dress, heck, it wasn't even white, but it didn't matter to her. Every time Sark said something like that, she still blushed. Sark just had that affect on her. Sydney took his face in her hands and brushed her lips over her fiance's lips.
"Don't we have a wedding to attend?" Sark questioned playfully. He intwined their hands together and led her to the small courthouse. *
"I don't think you've ever looked more radiant. Except maybe when we admitted that we loved each other. I remember it so well."
*Sark pushed Sydney in front of him.
"RUN!" Her high heeled stilettos hit the pavement as they dashed through the dark city of Berlin. Sark fired his gun a couple of times. He saw one go down, but three still followed. All of a sudden, Sydney fumbled.
"My heel broke!"
"GO!" Sark ordered, knowing they didn't have time to stop to remove the shoes.
Sydney hopped on one foot, quite a feat to do in stilettos, jerking one heel off. Sark felt himself get frustrated. In a sweeping motion, he had lifted Sydney into his arms and continued to run.
"Get your other shoe off!"
The guards were catching up to them, the extra weight on Sark was slowing them both down.
"Throw your heel at them."
Sydney tossed it and hit one man in the head. Sark placed her on the ground and they sprinted away. They reached a well lit restaurant and walked in, trying to look normal. That was hard, considering Sark had a gun out and Sydney was walking barefoot, both out of breath. They managed to get through the restaurant and the kitchen, sneaking through the back door to a darkened street. Sydney began to chuckle. Sark smiled at her melodic laughter.
"I love you." Sydney blurted out.
Sark stopped walking.
"What?"
"I do. I've loved you for a long time."
"Indeed."
Sydney stepped to him, her breath catching in her throat. She managed to choke out, "Indeed? I admit that and you say indeed."
Sark pushed her black hair behind her ears and slowly pressed his mouth to hers.
"Mmmm..." They moaned in unison. Sark pulled away, Sydney's eyes looking like a young doe's, wide eyed and innocent.
"I love you, too, Sydney." Sark whispered into her ear before he began his trek to the extraction point.*
Sark tightly shut his eyes, willing to block everything he was feeling out. Things had been fine before Sydney. No emotions, nothing. But she had changed all that. The wine was half gone and Sark was well aware that he was getting drunk. He didn't care right then. All he wanted was his wife back. The only woman he ever loved and the only family he ever had. Not many were aware they were married. Francie had already died. Will knew, but tried to overlook it. Sydney had told her mother in confidentiality. Vaughn found out, and full of anger and hurt, informed both Kendall and Jack. Kendall actually took it much better than Jack. Perhaps that was because Sydney was not his daughter.
*Jack banged on the apartment door that Mr. Sark owned. The thought of that monster touching his daughter only fueled his anger. Sark answered the casually, not at all expecting an incredibly unhappy father on his doorstep.
"Sydney, love?" He called into a seemingly empty apartment.
"What is it, Andrew?" Her quiet voice answered.
"I don't think it's a secret anymore."
Sydney opened the bathroom door, tightening her thick yellow robe.
"Dad!"
She was as surprised to see Jack as Sark was.
"It is true. I was hoping Mr. Vaughn had incorrect sources."
"Vaughn knows?"
"Yes, he knows. As does Kendall."
"Dad, I can explain."
"You married a murderer, an enemy of the United States."
Sydney searched for the words to say, but could only come up with one.
"Yes."
"Did he hurt you, force you?"
Sark interjected at this point. "I resent you asking her that."
"I don't care if it offends you, Mr. Sark." Jack replied, hardly acknowledging the blond man.
"Do you care if it offends me, Dad?"
Jack faltered, considering her words.
"No."
"He hasn't hurt me. He won't. Dad, we love each other."
"He's using you. He only wants your secrets, to gain your trust to use it to his own advantage."
"He's not Mom!"
Jack's eyes widened, her obvious target hit. Jack turned and exited the apartment, slamming the door behind him. Sydney sighed, pain filling her heart. Sark gathered her into his arms to comfort her.*
"We went through a lot so we could have a few hours together. I just wish I could hold you in my arms one more time, comfort you one more time."
*"Francie!" Sydney screamed as she entered her house. In the foyer, Francie's body hung from the ceiling, a note attached.
BRING ME BACK THE SOFTWARE.
"Francie! Please! No...no...no"
She felt like everything was in slow motion. A familiar scent of expensive cologne attacked her senses. His strong arms led her away.
"Sark."
"Shh...I'm going to get her down."
Sark gently sat her down on the couch and slipped back into the hallway. He grabbed a hold of Sydney's best friend from the rope and laid her on the floor.
"Is she really gone?" Sydney's tired, fearful voice rang through the otherwise quiet house.
"She's really gone."
Sydney whimpered and tears started to stream down her milk white cheeks. "I'll find the person who did this." Sark promised, knowing he was speaking the truth. Sydney was in so much pain. Even if Sydney hated him, he wanted to protect her.
"It was James Freston."
"You know?"
"My last mission for SD-6 was to steal software from him. He saw me."
"Ah."
Sark walked to the couch and wrapped his arms around Sydney's heartbroken frame. She buried her head into his chest, clutching his suit jacket like a lifeline.*
"I wanted to help you so badly. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to, though. But we weren't together. You still hated me with such a fiery passion. I would have taken that hate compared to what you became. You totally shut down, which was understandable. I was so worried. I just didn't know how to help. But you bounced back. You always did. Except for when he got to you."
*"Lovie, you home?" Sark entered his comfortable apartment after work. Everything appeared to be in place, a quiet sound of a laugh track came from their bedroom. He smiled to himself. Sydney had the tendency to fall asleep the moment she sat still. With her schedule, who could blame her?
"Love? Wake up. I thought we could go out to dinner."
Sark stood in the door jam, watching the bed. Sydney didn't stir at all.
"Babe?"
Still no movement. Sark stepped closer to the bed.
"Sydney? Oh, no."
Sydney lay on the bed, a dark red pool surrounding her. Her soft brown hair was matted with the sticky red substance.
"No, Love, please. Oh, no, no, no."
Sark sat on the bed, lifting her body to him. He could feel the blood seep into his suit.
"Sydney! Sydney!"
The tears fell freely. They rolled down his cheek, one by one and dropped onto Sydney's forehead. This was the work of Arvin Sloane. They were so close to taking SD-6 down. Sydney had let him know as much. Plus, you could just tell. Sydney seemed happier, freer. He laid her back down onto the pillow, closed her precious brown eyes for the last time, and kissed her softly. He picked up the phone, smearing Sydney's blood over the plastic. Sark hardly took notice. He was in a daze.
"Vaughn."
"Mr. Vaughn, this is Mr. Sark."
"How did you get this number?"
Sark's voice took on his usual hard, nondescript tone.
"Sydney is at my apartment. She's dead. Please come and get her."
Vaughn could hear him moving the phone.
"Where are you going?"
Sark didn't answer him, simply disconnected the line. Sark cocked his gun and walked out the door, giving Sydney one last glance.*
"I went to SD-6, before the CIA took it down."
*Sark entered the Credit Dauphine building, his suit bloodied, his eyes holding an angry, far away look. Dixon saw this and knew something was wrong. He followed him to Sloane's office, as did a majority of the SD-6 floor. Sark burst into the office.
"You killed her."
Sloane looked up, a look of serenity on his face.
"She betrayed us, Mr. Sark. It had to be done."
"You betrayed her."
Sark raised his gun. Some shouts were heard outside the office, Dixon stepped in to remove the gun.
"This is for bringing Sydney into this life, for hurting her, and for killing her."
***BANG*** The office screamed out, a flurry of confusion and activity. Sloane slumped over in his chair, definitely dead. Sark pushed his way through the crowd, before anyone had enough sense to capture him.*
"I was glad to get rid of Sloane. If only I had done it sooner. If only the CIA had taken down SD-6 three days sooner. It did happen, though. Three days later. In the name of Sydney Bristow, Agent Weiss, Agent Bristow, Agent Vaughn, Agent Kendall, and several others stormed SD-6, while around the world, other branches of the Alliance were being stormed as well, taking down the Alliance. All in the name of Double Agent Bristow. I went to your funeral. It was a week after your death. You can imagine the warm reception I received."
*It was raining that day, and rightly so. The world had lost one of their angels. Irina was there. He was only slightly surprised to see her out of her glass cage. All the others were men. Kendall, Vaughn, Jack, Dixon, Marshall, Weiss, Will, they were all there. Sark entered the small gathering, but Jack blocked his path.
"You are not welcome here, Mr. Sark."
Irina put her hand on Jack's shoulder.
"Jack, Sydney loved him."
The usually stoic man's face broke and he held Irina close to him. "Our little girl is gone."
Irina was clearly shocked by his show of affection, but did nothing to discourage it.
"I know." Her tears mingled with her husband's as they clung to each other. Vaugh stood alone, far from any kind of contact. He stood there, his face contorted with an unimaginable pain, losing the woman he loved and facing the truth. But Sark knew something about that. The desire to be alone, to let it sink in, to wish her back. Will also stood off to the side, not exactly fitting in anywhere. He was Sydney's link to the normal life. Even though he knew the truth, he was her sense of normalcy in life. Weiss was there, out of respect for Sydney and friendship with Vaughn. Kendall was to give Jack the flag, the medals, with great ceremony for Sydney's bravery. Marshall, still in shock from the death of Sydney and the truth about SD-6, huddled near Dixon, a man he saw as a father figure and a comfort. Dixon had yet to explain things to his wife, so he too, was alone. Sark felt out of place with all of them. He wasn't CIA, he wasn't SD-6, and he was far from normal. But he was the one who possibly loved Sydney the most, and the one whom she loved the most. Sark bent down to the casket and opened the front part. Irina shot him a sympathetic smile as he dropped lilies into the casket with her. "They were her favorite," Sark said, his voice emotionless. He placed Sydney's diamond engagement ring on her left finger, the silver wedding band taking its rightful place. "You couldn't wear it before, it wasn't safe. I guess it's safe now." Sark reshut the casket and placed his own wedding band on his left finger. The funeral was over then, and one by one, they each left Sydney alone to be buried.*
Sark was slumped over, the wine totally gone. He was definitely drunk. He laid across the gravesite, wishing he could die. But no. His destiny was to live forever, miserably without Sydney; his punishment for all of the wrongs he had committed.
"I love you so much. I don't know how I've been able to live without you for so long. I don't want to live without you anymore."
He cradled his head in his arms, staring up at her name. Sydney Alexandra Sark. SAS. She did have a great deal of sass. He felt a chuckle erupt from his throat. Oh, no, he was not thinking clearly. He was thinking the thoughts of a very drunk man. He didn't care. The pain had numbed a bit, but not nearly enough. He began to wonder where he could get some more wine. He shouldn't drive. He did know that. He felt someone pulling him up by his arm.
"Mmmr-r. Tippin. Wha-what are you doo-oing here?" Sark slurred, uncomfortably.
"It's your anniversary." Will replied, calmly.
"How'd yo-ou know?"
"Sydney told me when you got married. I figured you would be here today. It was logical."
"Why'd you co-om-me?"
"I may hate you, but I can't leave you out here alone. Sydney wouldn't have wanted that. Come on. I'm taking you home."
Sark staggered towards Will's car, not even thinking that he was showing his enemy a weakness.
"I loved her." Sark stated, suddenly all traces of a slur and drunkeness disappearing. He stopped at the gate.
"We all did, Mr. Sark. Now get in the car."
Sark stumbled into the car, his slow, unstable movements returning, and Will opened the door, starting the engine. He heard Sark whisper, "Good bye, Sydney, Love."
Will felt a wave a sympathy run through him for that man. He quickly squashed the emotion, for this was the man who tortured him, and no matter how much he loved Sydney, he could never forgive this man. He drove them away from the cemetary, Sark looking back momentarily, as if hoping she would be there. But as always, she was still gone.