Devlin stared at Sark's face through the glass of his cell. It was
much like Derevko's cell in shape and form-concrete and Plexiglas,
completely impenetrable, and monitored at all times. He had to give Sydney
Bristow credit; she always seemed to turn a situation to her advantage. Not
many agents could go into an operation tied up and kidnapped and come out
with a tranquilized deadly assassin. Now if the assassin would only talk.
"Listen, Mr. Sark . . . . I have been given to go ahead to order your execution without trial." In true interrogator fashion, Devlin paused a second to let the words sink in. He was disappointed to see it seemed to have absolutely no effect on Sark. He just continued to stare blankly back at him, almost as if the words weren't reaching him. Devlin continued.
"Now, the only thing that could possibly saved your undeserving ass is if you decided to cooperate with us." Sark continued to stare back at Devlin. It was unnerving.
"Agent Sydney Bristow has told us that you have been privy to a lot of intel in your few years as an independent agent. All the CIA asks in exchange for your life is that we might be able to wrack your brain every once in awhile when needed." Devlin shoved paperwork (unstapled) and a pencil through to slot, "Just read through those documents and sign them if you wish to cooperate with the us, Mr. Sark." He still hadn't spoken, but he was writing something in big block letters on the back of one of the sheets of paper. When he was finished, he pressed it up against the Plexiglas wall for him to see-
I WILL ONLY TALK TO SYDNEY BRISTOW.
Damn, thought Devlin, not another one. Were all of his prisoners going to feel the need to only converse with that woman? This was going to be problem if this continued. Sark gave him a questioning look, silently asking him if he agreed to those terms.
Despite his misgivings, Devlin nodded yes. What the hell? It's no different from Derevko. . .
_________________________________
"He said what??" Sydney Bristow was in a conference room with Devlin, Vaughn, and her father, discussing what was fondly being called the "Sark Issue".
"Didn't say so much as he wrote it," Devlin said gruffly, "He wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't going to talk."
Vaughn broke in protectively.
"With all due respect Sir, you can't ask Syd-Agent Bristow to do this. She's been put through enough thanks to Sark-" Sydney put a hand up to stop him.
"Look, I'm afraid it's our only option. This guy isn't afraid of dying, so Agent Bristow is pretty much our only bargaining chip with him.." I love how they talk about me as if I'm not here, Syd thought, rolling her eyes slightly, just enough for Vaughn to notice. He suppressed a smile.
"It's okay," she said, "I'll agree to do it." All three gave her a surprised look. They were expecting more of a fight.
"Then it's settled." Devlin said, satisfied.
Vaughn pulled her over to a corner right after leaving the conference room.
"Are you sure you want to do this Sydney?" Vaughn looked at her questioningly. God, he has beautiful eyes . . . Okay, mind OUT of the gutter Sydney . . .
"Yeah, I'm sure." Sydney wasn't sure exactly why she was doing this, but she felt the need to learn more about him.
"Why?" asked Vaughn, echoing her thoughts. He was really worried about her.
"I dunno . . . . It's hard to explain." she started, not knowing how to word this. She wanted to be honest with Vaughn.
"It's like . . . . We understand each other." Vaughn just shook his head, more worried then ever.
___________________________________
The automatic doors locked behind her with a satisfying click, leaving Sydney alone to talk to Sark. Though she knew all she had to do was press a button to exit again, she still felt trapped inside. It was the same feeling she used to have when she talked to her mother, before they had grown closer again. What she was beginning to realize that it wasn't the room she felt trapped in, but the vulnerability she felt when she talked to people who knew her as well as Sark did. Deep down, it frightened her that Sark had been able to read her that easily, knowing all her secrets in just a few days. And now she was alone in a room with him.
Well, not really alone, she amended. She looked up to the security camera for reassurance, knowing Vaughn was probably watching on the other end.
"Searching for your precious handler again, Miss Bristow?" Sark's cold voice cut through her.
"Good afternoon to you too, Sark" Sydney said sarcastically, sitting down.
"Well that's going to be a helpful way to get information out of me. Sarcasm. Why don't you try something new and different and be cordial for a change?" Sark's gaze penetrated her.
"I'll be nice, Sark, when you display honest emotion." Sydney said, face close to the glass, inches away from Sark's. His eyes flashed for a moment, in his usual blink-and-you'll-miss-it display of emotion.
"How many security cameras are recording us, Miss Bristow?" He asked, ignoring the question.
"Just one." she answered, truthfully. And it couldn't even pick up sound. Devlin trusted her enough to minimal surveillance in the room, which Syd took to be a sign of respect. She wasn't about to tell Sark that last part, though.
"What angle?" he asked.
"Directly behind me." Sydney said. Why was she being this honest with him? No doubt he was planning escape methods.
"Why do you want to know?" she added, as an afterthought.
"Just wanted to know how much privacy I had been given. By the way, is our conversation being recorded, Miss Bristow?"
Now how to answer that . . . Sydney thought. Oh what the Hell. I've been honest this much so far. Besides, Sydney had some personal questions for Sark that she didn't really want Devlin hearing anyways.
"No." she said simply.
"You're being startlingly honest Miss Bristow. It's almost suspicious." Of course Sark wouldn't take her at word.
"It's your choice whether you believe me or not, Sark." she said, a cocky smirk growing on her face. How many times had she been in the reverse situation? The irony seemed to dawn on Sark as well, because a hint of a smile began playing on his lips. It wasn't the sarcastic smile he usually wore when he was working at hiding his emotions either, it seemed to be a true smile, though he was doing his best to try and suppress it. Sydney wished he wouldn't. It fit beautifully on him.
"I'm satisfied with your word for now," he replied, "Now, were you just going to sit here and banter with me all day, or is there something you would actually like to ask me?" The sarcastic smirk returned.
"Yes, actually," Sydney said, surprised that he wanted to actually do business right off the bat. She had been preparing herself for a whole lot more baiting before he got professional. "First of all, the CIA would like to know what your motives were for creating an alliance with Sloane." Sydney looked up, her face still inches away from the glass. Sark didn't seem to be listening, just staring at her and thinking.
"I didn't ask what the CIA wanted to know, I asked what you wanted to know." Smirk. Sark got up out of his chair to stretch his legs.
"Have you ever seen the movie Silence of the Lambs, Miss Bristow?" he asked randomly. Of course she had. It actually reminded her quite a bit of the situation in front of her, though Sydney didn't find Sark nearly as sinister as Hannibal Lecter. She was beginning to see faint edges of humanity with Sark.
"Yes," she replied. She had a feeling she knew where this conversation was heading, and she really didn't want to go there. Time for a change of subject.
"Were you even listening to the question, Sark?"
"Of course I was," he said offhandedly, beginning to pace in thought.
"I have an idea," he said, sitting down to face her once more. He almost seemed eager. Both heads were touching the glass, the only thing separating them. Both were eyeing each other.
"What?"
"I enjoyed that trick he used, in the movie. I answer your questions, and you answer mine. That way we're both open to each other. Deal?" He stared at her challengingly, eyes deep, blue, and penetrating.
"Since when did you become such a movie buff?" Syd asked, dodging. She leaned back in her chair once more, using every ounce of mental strength to break eye contact with him. Sark was smiling, daring her.
"Just answer the question, Sydney."
He'd called her Sydney again. It took her a second to realize that they had both had their barriers down for awhile now. Sydney looked at Sark again, his face close to the glass, one eyebrow raised-- taunting her. Tempting her.
Syd took a breath.
"Deal."
"Listen, Mr. Sark . . . . I have been given to go ahead to order your execution without trial." In true interrogator fashion, Devlin paused a second to let the words sink in. He was disappointed to see it seemed to have absolutely no effect on Sark. He just continued to stare blankly back at him, almost as if the words weren't reaching him. Devlin continued.
"Now, the only thing that could possibly saved your undeserving ass is if you decided to cooperate with us." Sark continued to stare back at Devlin. It was unnerving.
"Agent Sydney Bristow has told us that you have been privy to a lot of intel in your few years as an independent agent. All the CIA asks in exchange for your life is that we might be able to wrack your brain every once in awhile when needed." Devlin shoved paperwork (unstapled) and a pencil through to slot, "Just read through those documents and sign them if you wish to cooperate with the us, Mr. Sark." He still hadn't spoken, but he was writing something in big block letters on the back of one of the sheets of paper. When he was finished, he pressed it up against the Plexiglas wall for him to see-
I WILL ONLY TALK TO SYDNEY BRISTOW.
Damn, thought Devlin, not another one. Were all of his prisoners going to feel the need to only converse with that woman? This was going to be problem if this continued. Sark gave him a questioning look, silently asking him if he agreed to those terms.
Despite his misgivings, Devlin nodded yes. What the hell? It's no different from Derevko. . .
_________________________________
"He said what??" Sydney Bristow was in a conference room with Devlin, Vaughn, and her father, discussing what was fondly being called the "Sark Issue".
"Didn't say so much as he wrote it," Devlin said gruffly, "He wasn't kidding when he said he wasn't going to talk."
Vaughn broke in protectively.
"With all due respect Sir, you can't ask Syd-Agent Bristow to do this. She's been put through enough thanks to Sark-" Sydney put a hand up to stop him.
"Look, I'm afraid it's our only option. This guy isn't afraid of dying, so Agent Bristow is pretty much our only bargaining chip with him.." I love how they talk about me as if I'm not here, Syd thought, rolling her eyes slightly, just enough for Vaughn to notice. He suppressed a smile.
"It's okay," she said, "I'll agree to do it." All three gave her a surprised look. They were expecting more of a fight.
"Then it's settled." Devlin said, satisfied.
Vaughn pulled her over to a corner right after leaving the conference room.
"Are you sure you want to do this Sydney?" Vaughn looked at her questioningly. God, he has beautiful eyes . . . Okay, mind OUT of the gutter Sydney . . .
"Yeah, I'm sure." Sydney wasn't sure exactly why she was doing this, but she felt the need to learn more about him.
"Why?" asked Vaughn, echoing her thoughts. He was really worried about her.
"I dunno . . . . It's hard to explain." she started, not knowing how to word this. She wanted to be honest with Vaughn.
"It's like . . . . We understand each other." Vaughn just shook his head, more worried then ever.
___________________________________
The automatic doors locked behind her with a satisfying click, leaving Sydney alone to talk to Sark. Though she knew all she had to do was press a button to exit again, she still felt trapped inside. It was the same feeling she used to have when she talked to her mother, before they had grown closer again. What she was beginning to realize that it wasn't the room she felt trapped in, but the vulnerability she felt when she talked to people who knew her as well as Sark did. Deep down, it frightened her that Sark had been able to read her that easily, knowing all her secrets in just a few days. And now she was alone in a room with him.
Well, not really alone, she amended. She looked up to the security camera for reassurance, knowing Vaughn was probably watching on the other end.
"Searching for your precious handler again, Miss Bristow?" Sark's cold voice cut through her.
"Good afternoon to you too, Sark" Sydney said sarcastically, sitting down.
"Well that's going to be a helpful way to get information out of me. Sarcasm. Why don't you try something new and different and be cordial for a change?" Sark's gaze penetrated her.
"I'll be nice, Sark, when you display honest emotion." Sydney said, face close to the glass, inches away from Sark's. His eyes flashed for a moment, in his usual blink-and-you'll-miss-it display of emotion.
"How many security cameras are recording us, Miss Bristow?" He asked, ignoring the question.
"Just one." she answered, truthfully. And it couldn't even pick up sound. Devlin trusted her enough to minimal surveillance in the room, which Syd took to be a sign of respect. She wasn't about to tell Sark that last part, though.
"What angle?" he asked.
"Directly behind me." Sydney said. Why was she being this honest with him? No doubt he was planning escape methods.
"Why do you want to know?" she added, as an afterthought.
"Just wanted to know how much privacy I had been given. By the way, is our conversation being recorded, Miss Bristow?"
Now how to answer that . . . Sydney thought. Oh what the Hell. I've been honest this much so far. Besides, Sydney had some personal questions for Sark that she didn't really want Devlin hearing anyways.
"No." she said simply.
"You're being startlingly honest Miss Bristow. It's almost suspicious." Of course Sark wouldn't take her at word.
"It's your choice whether you believe me or not, Sark." she said, a cocky smirk growing on her face. How many times had she been in the reverse situation? The irony seemed to dawn on Sark as well, because a hint of a smile began playing on his lips. It wasn't the sarcastic smile he usually wore when he was working at hiding his emotions either, it seemed to be a true smile, though he was doing his best to try and suppress it. Sydney wished he wouldn't. It fit beautifully on him.
"I'm satisfied with your word for now," he replied, "Now, were you just going to sit here and banter with me all day, or is there something you would actually like to ask me?" The sarcastic smirk returned.
"Yes, actually," Sydney said, surprised that he wanted to actually do business right off the bat. She had been preparing herself for a whole lot more baiting before he got professional. "First of all, the CIA would like to know what your motives were for creating an alliance with Sloane." Sydney looked up, her face still inches away from the glass. Sark didn't seem to be listening, just staring at her and thinking.
"I didn't ask what the CIA wanted to know, I asked what you wanted to know." Smirk. Sark got up out of his chair to stretch his legs.
"Have you ever seen the movie Silence of the Lambs, Miss Bristow?" he asked randomly. Of course she had. It actually reminded her quite a bit of the situation in front of her, though Sydney didn't find Sark nearly as sinister as Hannibal Lecter. She was beginning to see faint edges of humanity with Sark.
"Yes," she replied. She had a feeling she knew where this conversation was heading, and she really didn't want to go there. Time for a change of subject.
"Were you even listening to the question, Sark?"
"Of course I was," he said offhandedly, beginning to pace in thought.
"I have an idea," he said, sitting down to face her once more. He almost seemed eager. Both heads were touching the glass, the only thing separating them. Both were eyeing each other.
"What?"
"I enjoyed that trick he used, in the movie. I answer your questions, and you answer mine. That way we're both open to each other. Deal?" He stared at her challengingly, eyes deep, blue, and penetrating.
"Since when did you become such a movie buff?" Syd asked, dodging. She leaned back in her chair once more, using every ounce of mental strength to break eye contact with him. Sark was smiling, daring her.
"Just answer the question, Sydney."
He'd called her Sydney again. It took her a second to realize that they had both had their barriers down for awhile now. Sydney looked at Sark again, his face close to the glass, one eyebrow raised-- taunting her. Tempting her.
Syd took a breath.
"Deal."