Sark could see Sydney, typing on her laptop now, in a new change of
clothes and a fresh look on her face. It's amazing how fast that woman can
bounce back from a hangover, he thought.
Maybe it all depends on the company she's keeping, he thought bitterly as he watched Sydney laugh at something her precious handler had just told her. How pathetic, he thought . . . this guy looks like some lovesick puppy. That look on his face will get him killed someday, when SD- 6 is watching and catches him looking at her like that . . .
Sark doubted that Michael Vaughn was talented at hiding any emotions. He's probably horrible in the field . . .
Sark smiled inwardly, remembering the look on Sydney's face when she had punched him out once in the field. She had no idea . . . No idea of any of it.
That fact of the matter was, Sark would have never been able to seriously harm Sydney or any of her friends. She interested him too much.
Luckily, thought Sark, she still thinks of me as a flat person-a sociopathic assassin incapable of human emotion. Thank God . . . . . . . He had never minded being thought of that way, it made his life simpler. If he was an incomplete person, he didn't feel so bad about taking such life threatening risks day in and day out.
That was what intrigued him about Sydney Bristow-she took the same risks, but still managed to maintain a life outside of it. What that must do to her head, to know that at any moment if someone found out her true identity, her entire world could come crashing down around her. That's what makes her almost stronger than me-she takes risks that jeopardize her whole world-whereas I have made sure not to have a place to belong, for fear of losing it.
Sark vaguely recalled a cold night in January. . . the night they cancelled my heart . . .
No . . . . . . Don't think about that -But what? it had been so long, he had no memory. Don't think, it will just put you in a mood . . . You're not allowed to have moods, Sark. You have no past and you have no future. There is nothing there. Nothing.
Sark. Why had he even chosen that name? He couldn't remember anymore. He had forced himself to forget anything that could have made him weak.
He glanced at Sydney again. He would have to be careful about that. She still hadn't noticed that he was awake now. Good.
Funny . . . I knew the moment she woke up; her eyelids twitched slightly, they always do when you wake up. And then she was still again. But I knew . . . . . . . I knew . . . . His eyelids began to droop.
The drugs in those tranquilizer darts haven't quite worn off yet, Sark thought wryly, just before losing consciousness once more.
_________________________________
It was so cold . . . So cold . . .
No . . . Nothing happened . . . There is Nothing. You are Nothing. You mean Nothing.
But it was so cold . . . everything died, everyone died.
No, there is Nothing . . .
A little boy, in Ireland. He heard the screams. It was so cold.
No, it was Nothing . . .
He heard the screams . . . felt the warm blood on the cold snow . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
No, he saw Nothing.
Holding the man's head in the boy's lap . . . Rivers of blood flowing on his lap . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy, he whispered . . . And then his was the only blood flowing, through his heart before it died.
No, Nothing died . . . There was Nothing there to begin with.
Crimson snow . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . . He saw the cold hands, the Blood, the lifeless eyes and the pallid cheeks . . . In the snow, it was so cold.
No, he felt Nothing.
Saw the Silent screams on the faces . . . In the snow, the crimson snow . . .He felt his heart stop beating . . . He felt his hands . . . He was as cold as the snow . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
No, there was Nothing.
Sweet, silent snowfall . . . The bittersweet smell of blood and tears . . . He saw the faces . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . . He saw her Face . . .He felt the Cold and he saw her face . . .
No, he Felt Nothing.
He saw her face in the cold . . . Frozen tears on white cheeks . . . Graceful ribbon of blood running down her cheek where tears should be . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
No, there was Nothing.
His Mother's Face . . . In the silent cold sweet snow . . . Held her cold Face, blood running on his cold hands . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
No, he Felt Nothing.
Blood cold, tears cold, face cold, hands cold, Heart Cold . . .
No, he Felt Nothing.
No tears, no laughs . . .
He Felt Nothing.
Silent Crimson Snow . . . So Cold, so cold . . .
He Felt Nothing.
Dead Faces, Dead Heart. My Heart Died.
Nothing died. There was Nothing.
My Heart Died.
There was NOTHING.
This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
___________________________
"NOTHING!!" Sark had screamed himself awake.
Sydney rushed over to him, staring at him intently. There was absolutely no trace of the usual uncaring façade he usually wore. His eyes were wide, Blue, Full of Emotion. Bewilderment , surprise, fright, anguish and sadness were wrapped up contorted in his face. Sydney spoke softly to him.
"What's wrong, Sark?" The named somehow didn't seem to fit him right now.
He bent his head down, his face blazing with the effort of trying to regain the usual composure and smoothness he had perfected over the years. Breathing heavily, blinking and squinting rapidly, his lips twisting in and out of a frown. He finally shut his eyes tight, leaning his head back against the wall of the compartment.
"It was Nothing."
"Sark-"
"Sydney, Please go."
"But-"
"GO!"
Sydney shook her head and got up. He hadn't called her "Miss Bristow." She had never seen Sark showing honest emotion before, but she had a feeling she was witnessing it now. Just before she walked back to rejoin Vaughn at the front of the plane, she bent down close, holding him. He was shivering.
"I understand you better than you think." Sydney whispered in his ear, then began walking back the front of the plane.
Then she heard him, almost inaudibly whisper once more.
"It was Nothing."
___________________________
___________________________
"Sydney?" Vaughn broke her train of thought in the warehouse. She hadn't even heard him walk up. Looking up at him, she could see lines of worry etched in his face. They seemed to always be present when he was with her.
"Hey Vaughn." Sydney smiled softly at him. He bent down beside where she was sitting, and looked intently into her eyes.
"What were you thinking about a second ago? You looked like you were miles away."
That was a more complicated question than he knew. What had she been thinking about? Everything. But for all her pondering, all she could seem to come up with was more questions. Questions about her own insecurities, Sark and his secrets, the events of the past week, and a tender kiss in a bar . . .
Sydney bit her lip and looked down. Vaughn seemed to get the message. They had managed to avoid the subject until now. Standing up quickly, he started to debrief her.
"So basically all you do for this operation is-"
"Vaughn . . ."
"What Sydney?" he said, tense.
"We can't avoid this forever. We need to talk." Vaughn looked down and ran his fingers back through his hair, like he always did when he was nervous. The light behind him cast a silhouette of his form. Sydney could just make out the profile of his soft eyelashes, blinking. Then he looked at her.
"I know." Sydney sighed.
" Vaughn, all I want to say is that I'm sorry I kissed you." There. She'd said it. Letting out an embarrassed laugh, she continued.
"Just write it off as me being drunk and vulnerable . . . and stupid," that wasn't the whole truth, and she knew it, but she couldn't admit her true reasons to Vaughn. "I know you're with Alice, and it was highly unprofessional of me-I'm . . . . . I'm sorry. I understand why you left." She let out an exasperated breath. It felt good to get that off her chest. Vaughn sat down next to her, an odd twinkle in his eyes.
"Syd-It's not how you think," he started softly, smiling, "First, I want to say I'm sorry too . . . You called me for help and support, and I just screwed you up even more. It's just . . . I dunno-" he shook his head, trying to get the words out. Standing up, he paced for a moment, fingers running through his hair again. Crap, thought Sydney-- I hope I didn't screw anything up for him with Alice. Looking up, Sydney realized Vaughn had stopped pacing and was staring at her again. He seemed to have made up his mind on what he was going to say.
"Here's the thing-" he started, then stopped, and started again. "Here's the thing-You are the most complicated, intriguing person I have ever known. And what's more, you seem to totally understand me, and I think by now I've pretty much got a handle on you too. It's like-I dunno, we fit . . . . . I don't feel alone when I'm with you." he sat down beside her again.
"Syd, Alice and I broke up right before you called . . . And before you say anything it had nothing to do with you-" he paused a moment. "She just didn't understand me-and I never really felt like I belonged, when I was with her. And then when you said all those things at the bar, I don't know . . . . . . It was like you had just shown me a whole other side of you. Everything you said . . . I just, understood it. I related to you . . . . . . And then, you kissed me . . . . ."
Sydney looked down, embarrassed. Vaughn cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head up so she was looking at him again. She noticed the worry lines were gone from his face, for once, leaving only a soft expression, and deep soulful eyes. Staring at her with full knowledge of what she was going through. He slid his hands down off her face once more, leaving a tingling feeling where they'd been.
"So Syd, for the record, the only reason I stopped kissing you was because I cared too much. I don't to put you in any more danger than you're already in. I have enough trouble getting to sleep anyways when you're out in the field . . . . I couldn't stand losing you just because I was being stupid." Vaughn gave a slight smile. Sydney smiled back. Tentatively, he put his arm around her, pulling her close. She laid her head down on his shoulder. He was so warm, so close. Kissing the top of her head, he smoothed out her hair and held her tighter.
They held each other for a long time.
Maybe it all depends on the company she's keeping, he thought bitterly as he watched Sydney laugh at something her precious handler had just told her. How pathetic, he thought . . . this guy looks like some lovesick puppy. That look on his face will get him killed someday, when SD- 6 is watching and catches him looking at her like that . . .
Sark doubted that Michael Vaughn was talented at hiding any emotions. He's probably horrible in the field . . .
Sark smiled inwardly, remembering the look on Sydney's face when she had punched him out once in the field. She had no idea . . . No idea of any of it.
That fact of the matter was, Sark would have never been able to seriously harm Sydney or any of her friends. She interested him too much.
Luckily, thought Sark, she still thinks of me as a flat person-a sociopathic assassin incapable of human emotion. Thank God . . . . . . . He had never minded being thought of that way, it made his life simpler. If he was an incomplete person, he didn't feel so bad about taking such life threatening risks day in and day out.
That was what intrigued him about Sydney Bristow-she took the same risks, but still managed to maintain a life outside of it. What that must do to her head, to know that at any moment if someone found out her true identity, her entire world could come crashing down around her. That's what makes her almost stronger than me-she takes risks that jeopardize her whole world-whereas I have made sure not to have a place to belong, for fear of losing it.
Sark vaguely recalled a cold night in January. . . the night they cancelled my heart . . .
No . . . . . . Don't think about that -But what? it had been so long, he had no memory. Don't think, it will just put you in a mood . . . You're not allowed to have moods, Sark. You have no past and you have no future. There is nothing there. Nothing.
Sark. Why had he even chosen that name? He couldn't remember anymore. He had forced himself to forget anything that could have made him weak.
He glanced at Sydney again. He would have to be careful about that. She still hadn't noticed that he was awake now. Good.
Funny . . . I knew the moment she woke up; her eyelids twitched slightly, they always do when you wake up. And then she was still again. But I knew . . . . . . . I knew . . . . His eyelids began to droop.
The drugs in those tranquilizer darts haven't quite worn off yet, Sark thought wryly, just before losing consciousness once more.
_________________________________
It was so cold . . . So cold . . .
No . . . Nothing happened . . . There is Nothing. You are Nothing. You mean Nothing.
But it was so cold . . . everything died, everyone died.
No, there is Nothing . . .
A little boy, in Ireland. He heard the screams. It was so cold.
No, it was Nothing . . .
He heard the screams . . . felt the warm blood on the cold snow . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
No, he saw Nothing.
Holding the man's head in the boy's lap . . . Rivers of blood flowing on his lap . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy, he whispered . . . And then his was the only blood flowing, through his heart before it died.
No, Nothing died . . . There was Nothing there to begin with.
Crimson snow . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . . He saw the cold hands, the Blood, the lifeless eyes and the pallid cheeks . . . In the snow, it was so cold.
No, he felt Nothing.
Saw the Silent screams on the faces . . . In the snow, the crimson snow . . .He felt his heart stop beating . . . He felt his hands . . . He was as cold as the snow . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
No, there was Nothing.
Sweet, silent snowfall . . . The bittersweet smell of blood and tears . . . He saw the faces . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . . He saw her Face . . .He felt the Cold and he saw her face . . .
No, he Felt Nothing.
He saw her face in the cold . . . Frozen tears on white cheeks . . . Graceful ribbon of blood running down her cheek where tears should be . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
No, there was Nothing.
His Mother's Face . . . In the silent cold sweet snow . . . Held her cold Face, blood running on his cold hands . . . This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
No, he Felt Nothing.
Blood cold, tears cold, face cold, hands cold, Heart Cold . . .
No, he Felt Nothing.
No tears, no laughs . . .
He Felt Nothing.
Silent Crimson Snow . . . So Cold, so cold . . .
He Felt Nothing.
Dead Faces, Dead Heart. My Heart Died.
Nothing died. There was Nothing.
My Heart Died.
There was NOTHING.
This is what Faith does to you, Boy . . .
___________________________
"NOTHING!!" Sark had screamed himself awake.
Sydney rushed over to him, staring at him intently. There was absolutely no trace of the usual uncaring façade he usually wore. His eyes were wide, Blue, Full of Emotion. Bewilderment , surprise, fright, anguish and sadness were wrapped up contorted in his face. Sydney spoke softly to him.
"What's wrong, Sark?" The named somehow didn't seem to fit him right now.
He bent his head down, his face blazing with the effort of trying to regain the usual composure and smoothness he had perfected over the years. Breathing heavily, blinking and squinting rapidly, his lips twisting in and out of a frown. He finally shut his eyes tight, leaning his head back against the wall of the compartment.
"It was Nothing."
"Sark-"
"Sydney, Please go."
"But-"
"GO!"
Sydney shook her head and got up. He hadn't called her "Miss Bristow." She had never seen Sark showing honest emotion before, but she had a feeling she was witnessing it now. Just before she walked back to rejoin Vaughn at the front of the plane, she bent down close, holding him. He was shivering.
"I understand you better than you think." Sydney whispered in his ear, then began walking back the front of the plane.
Then she heard him, almost inaudibly whisper once more.
"It was Nothing."
___________________________
___________________________
"Sydney?" Vaughn broke her train of thought in the warehouse. She hadn't even heard him walk up. Looking up at him, she could see lines of worry etched in his face. They seemed to always be present when he was with her.
"Hey Vaughn." Sydney smiled softly at him. He bent down beside where she was sitting, and looked intently into her eyes.
"What were you thinking about a second ago? You looked like you were miles away."
That was a more complicated question than he knew. What had she been thinking about? Everything. But for all her pondering, all she could seem to come up with was more questions. Questions about her own insecurities, Sark and his secrets, the events of the past week, and a tender kiss in a bar . . .
Sydney bit her lip and looked down. Vaughn seemed to get the message. They had managed to avoid the subject until now. Standing up quickly, he started to debrief her.
"So basically all you do for this operation is-"
"Vaughn . . ."
"What Sydney?" he said, tense.
"We can't avoid this forever. We need to talk." Vaughn looked down and ran his fingers back through his hair, like he always did when he was nervous. The light behind him cast a silhouette of his form. Sydney could just make out the profile of his soft eyelashes, blinking. Then he looked at her.
"I know." Sydney sighed.
" Vaughn, all I want to say is that I'm sorry I kissed you." There. She'd said it. Letting out an embarrassed laugh, she continued.
"Just write it off as me being drunk and vulnerable . . . and stupid," that wasn't the whole truth, and she knew it, but she couldn't admit her true reasons to Vaughn. "I know you're with Alice, and it was highly unprofessional of me-I'm . . . . . I'm sorry. I understand why you left." She let out an exasperated breath. It felt good to get that off her chest. Vaughn sat down next to her, an odd twinkle in his eyes.
"Syd-It's not how you think," he started softly, smiling, "First, I want to say I'm sorry too . . . You called me for help and support, and I just screwed you up even more. It's just . . . I dunno-" he shook his head, trying to get the words out. Standing up, he paced for a moment, fingers running through his hair again. Crap, thought Sydney-- I hope I didn't screw anything up for him with Alice. Looking up, Sydney realized Vaughn had stopped pacing and was staring at her again. He seemed to have made up his mind on what he was going to say.
"Here's the thing-" he started, then stopped, and started again. "Here's the thing-You are the most complicated, intriguing person I have ever known. And what's more, you seem to totally understand me, and I think by now I've pretty much got a handle on you too. It's like-I dunno, we fit . . . . . I don't feel alone when I'm with you." he sat down beside her again.
"Syd, Alice and I broke up right before you called . . . And before you say anything it had nothing to do with you-" he paused a moment. "She just didn't understand me-and I never really felt like I belonged, when I was with her. And then when you said all those things at the bar, I don't know . . . . . . It was like you had just shown me a whole other side of you. Everything you said . . . I just, understood it. I related to you . . . . . . And then, you kissed me . . . . ."
Sydney looked down, embarrassed. Vaughn cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head up so she was looking at him again. She noticed the worry lines were gone from his face, for once, leaving only a soft expression, and deep soulful eyes. Staring at her with full knowledge of what she was going through. He slid his hands down off her face once more, leaving a tingling feeling where they'd been.
"So Syd, for the record, the only reason I stopped kissing you was because I cared too much. I don't to put you in any more danger than you're already in. I have enough trouble getting to sleep anyways when you're out in the field . . . . I couldn't stand losing you just because I was being stupid." Vaughn gave a slight smile. Sydney smiled back. Tentatively, he put his arm around her, pulling her close. She laid her head down on his shoulder. He was so warm, so close. Kissing the top of her head, he smoothed out her hair and held her tighter.
They held each other for a long time.