Sark smiled and leaned back in his chair, studying Sydney Bristow
once more. She was so perplexing-A compelling puzzle he felt the need to
unravel. And she had just agreed to let him unscramble her mind for his own
amusement. Of course, he had done the same thing, essentially. Question for
a question. Secret for a secret. But he would never reveal any of his
secrets, no. Though his face was stoic, inside he was laughing. Sark knew
he was a good liar. He wouldn't tell her anything. He could always lie.
"I get the first question," Sydney said, trying to regain control over the conversation. She could be so naïve at times.
"Alright," Sark agreed, "what is the question?"
"Same as before. What was your motive for forming an alliance with Sloane?" That was all she could come up with? How mundane.
"I was hoping to infiltrate the Alliance subtly through Sloane, in hopes to eventually assassinate them." That was mostly truth. There were other, more personal reasons he had chosen the SD-6 arm of the Alliance, but those were the basic facts. Sydney looked at him quizzically.
"But why choose the SD-6 arm?" Sark smirked. She was caught up in it already.
"Not so fast, Miss Bristow," he said, amused, "One question at a time."
"Alright, fine. What's your question?"
Sark sat a moment, looking at her. There were so many things he wanted to figure out about her . . . Where to start? He needed to gauge this carefully, just in case she got fed up playing games. He didn't want to risk losing her curiosity. Sydney was giving him an impatient look. He took no heed of it. This was a perfect moment, and if there was one thing in life he still had a passion for, it was relishing the moment. Finally he came to a decision.
"Alright," he said, his eyes pouring into hers, "we'll start simple. If you weren't in the spy business, what would you be doing with your life right now?"
_____________________________________
Sydney was taken aback. She was sure he was going to ask her something at least slightly difficult to answer. He was pacing it, she realized. He's starting like this to keep me in the game. She had only agreed to this because she was curious about him. She wasn't going to actually answer any of his questions truthfully. Sydney was good at lying. She'd been living a double -No, triple-life this whole time, she had better be good at lying. She wouldn't tell him a thing. She could always lie.
This question seemed innocent and easy enough though. She had actually had this scenario completely planned out in her head. At night she replayed it over and over in her mind. It kept her sane.
"I'd be in a Mediterranean beach town, with a family. I would never get dressed up in anything sexy or tight ever again, and I would not own ONE pair of high-heeled shoes. And I would stay in one place, never traveling, and I would own a poetry bookstore." Sydney smiled at the thought, her words slightly breathless.
Sark smiled a genuine smile, and gazed off, not quite seeing her. Sydney wished she could trap that smile in a jar and keep it. She was sure to never see it again.
"With the complete works of Pablo Neruda." he said, more to himself than to Sydney. She looked at him, surprised. She wouldn't have taken him for a Pablo Neruda fan. Neruda was emotional, unstructured, open. The complete opposite of Sark. That was why he was Sydney's favorite. His poetry was pure, honest, emotion, something Syd never found in her real life. Everyone had secrets.
Sark looked back at Sydney, the emotion once again drained from his face.
"Thank you." he said, simply.
It was her turn to ask a question.
"Why did you choose SD-6 for your operations?"
Sark sat there, thinking a minute, before answering.
"It seemed the most convenient, since I had worked for Irina Derevko, and her husband and daughter both happened to work there. Plus I had had prior dealings-" he coughed, stifling a laugh, "with your agency." By 'dealings' he meant fights with me, I'm sure, Sydney thought, looking at the twinkle in his eye. Sydney waited for him to continue. She could tell in his eyes that that wasn't all there was too it.
"You're lying." she said, when he didn't continue. She could see his eyes lose their spark as he retreated further into his mind, blocking her out. He let out an exasperated sigh.
"Look, Miss Bristow, you can either take it or leave it, that's the only explanation I am giving you."
"Fine," she said, smiling, "But since you didn't tell the whole truth, I get to ask another question." He looked at her a moment, not agreeing with her, not disagreeing. Just staring.
"What is your real name?" This question wasn't for Devlin or Vaughn or her father. This was something she wondered just out of her own curiosity.
______________________________________________
It was beginning to sink into Sark's brain that this wasn't going to be as easy as he had originally thought. It was true that he had her figured out, but now he was getting the feeling that Sydney had him figured out as well. She knew it when he lied. For the first time in a long time, Sark was uneasy.
"What is your real name?" she asked. What was his real name?
. . . Hell if I know, Sark thought. Okay, time to make something up. Don't be so obvious this time Sark. He had made a mistake in underestimating her. He wouldn't do that again.
"It's Brian."
"You're lying."
"No I'm not!" Sydney smiled, enjoying his outburst. Somewhere along the way they had switched roles. No wonder she'd gone off and gotten herself drunk, he thought. This is horrible.
"Sark . . . Just answer the question." One eyebrow raised. Smirk. Jesus Christ . . .
"Fine . . . . . . I-- I don't know."
"Come on Sark. . ."
"I DON'T KNOW!!" he said, exploding once again. She was screwing up his cool. Why did I agree to only talk to her? Oh yeah, because I thought I could handle her, he thought. Sark hated admitting he was wrong. He ran his hands through his hair, and looked at her. For some reason he seemed to be losing the ability wear his apathetic mask around her. It had started when she talked about The bookshop on the Mediterranean. It was the same thing he always dreamed of ding, if things had been different. And then he had smiled-- He could have kicked himself. Never forget Sark. You have no emotions. You feel Nothing. You are Nothing.
"How do you not know your own name?" Now her eyes were penetrating him. She made him want to implode. He couldn't help it. It ached. He broke her gaze, looking down at the ground.
"I-I've forgotten." he said, unnerved. She seemed to know he was telling the truth; she didn't pursue it further. He couldn't believe she had done this to him. It was bad enough he awoke from his dreams earlier to have her leaning over her, but now this. She was hollowing him out. He wanted revenge, and he knew just how to get it.
"My turn to ask a question." he said, looking up at her once more.
"What is the last serious relationship you've had, and how did it end?" Talking about Danny always hit a sore spot on her. He wanted to hit her where it hurt. If looks could kill, he thought, as he saw her glare.
"You know perfectly well how it ended. Danny is dead, Sloane killed him." Her eyes started to well up defiantly. Sark almost felt guilty for a moment, but then he looked deep into her eyes. She was crying awfully easily, he realized. Sydney's like me-- she doesn't wear her heart out on her sleeve. There's something I didn't know about going on here-he realized. The little manipulator-he thought, laughing. She learns quick. Or maybe she always knew.
____________________________
Sark was laughing at her. Sydney couldn't believe it. What heartless person would laugh after she had just described her fiancé's death? Okay, so Syd had fibbed a little. Her last serious relationship had been Noah-but he didn't need to know about that. Nobody knew about that. Not all of it. And she certainly wasn't about to tell Sark the sardonic details of her love life.
"That wasn't your most recent relationship though, was it, Sydney? There was somebody else . . ." he said in what sounded like a dawning realization.
"Who was it Sydney? Your precious handler, who left you for somebody less complicated?" Sark was deliberately trying to push her buttons, regain control of the conversation.
"Leave Vaughn out of this!" she said before she could stop herself. Sark's look softened. He had called her Sydney again.
"Who was it, Sydney?" Sydney looked away, her face hardened from emotion. The fake tears had gone from her face.
"He-he worked at SD-6 . . ." her voice sounded hollow, unlike herself. She took a fleeting look at Sark, and wished she hadn't. He was staring at her silently, with such intensity that she couldn't turn her eyes away.
"I had met him a while back, before Danny and we had had a thing-" she said, trying to make it sound as petty as possible. It wasn't really, and she didn't know why she was doing it. "Through some misunderstandings- Mostly Sloane-We broke it off . . ." Sydney looked down at the ground again. She couldn't keep looking at Sark.
"But then last spring, we ran into each other . . . I was ona mission in France, and he ws stationed there. We figured out our misunderstandings, and . . . . . I dunno . . . . It was like no time had passed between us . . ." Sydney smiled, "But anyways, um . . . it ended up that he kept some things from me . . . namely, that he was a hired assassin."
"I was on a mission with Dixon. We had just entered a house where this assassin had supposedly just finished a job. I found him, and I did exactly what I had been trained to do-I took him down. It wasn't til I had pulled off the guy's ski mask that I found out that I had just killed Noah." a burning sensation was growing behind Syd's eyes.
"He had been talking about leaving the business-and how he wanted me to come with him . . ." Sydney stood up, facing away from Sark momentarily to hide her pain.
______________________________________
Sark saw a single tear glide down her cheek when Sydney turned around again. Other than that, her face showed no emotion. A pang of guilt wracked through him a moment. Well, he had wanted to hurt her. And he had managed. He wondered briefly why he seemed to always be the cause of her sadness. Sark shook his head a moment. This was an interrogation session, not bonding time. Though what the CIA would want with his real name he could not imagine.
Sydney sat facing Sark once more, close to the glass. Lightly, Sark touched the glass with his finger, tracing the track of her tear.
"I'm sorry." was all he said. Sydney nodded, understanding. Suddenly her cell phone rang. Sydney stood to take the call, facing away from him once more. Sark was beginning to miss her face.
"Hey Vaughn . . . . . Yeah, I got it . . . . I'm almost finished . . . . Gimme another minute. . . . . . . . Okay . . . . . . . Okay."
Turning back to Sark, he could tell that she had recomposed herself. The barriers that had crumbled were slowly being rebuilt. But there was time for one more question. She leaned in close enough to him that he could see her breath fogging up the glass, momentarily hiding her lips from view.
"Why do you not sleep?" she asked.
Sark looked at her a moment. The glass created a thin barrier, but it was there. If it disappeared right then, he wouldn't have been able to resist kissing her.
"I dream of things forgotten. I do not wish to remember."
She nodded knowingly, and walked out, leaving him alone to his thoughts.
"I get the first question," Sydney said, trying to regain control over the conversation. She could be so naïve at times.
"Alright," Sark agreed, "what is the question?"
"Same as before. What was your motive for forming an alliance with Sloane?" That was all she could come up with? How mundane.
"I was hoping to infiltrate the Alliance subtly through Sloane, in hopes to eventually assassinate them." That was mostly truth. There were other, more personal reasons he had chosen the SD-6 arm of the Alliance, but those were the basic facts. Sydney looked at him quizzically.
"But why choose the SD-6 arm?" Sark smirked. She was caught up in it already.
"Not so fast, Miss Bristow," he said, amused, "One question at a time."
"Alright, fine. What's your question?"
Sark sat a moment, looking at her. There were so many things he wanted to figure out about her . . . Where to start? He needed to gauge this carefully, just in case she got fed up playing games. He didn't want to risk losing her curiosity. Sydney was giving him an impatient look. He took no heed of it. This was a perfect moment, and if there was one thing in life he still had a passion for, it was relishing the moment. Finally he came to a decision.
"Alright," he said, his eyes pouring into hers, "we'll start simple. If you weren't in the spy business, what would you be doing with your life right now?"
_____________________________________
Sydney was taken aback. She was sure he was going to ask her something at least slightly difficult to answer. He was pacing it, she realized. He's starting like this to keep me in the game. She had only agreed to this because she was curious about him. She wasn't going to actually answer any of his questions truthfully. Sydney was good at lying. She'd been living a double -No, triple-life this whole time, she had better be good at lying. She wouldn't tell him a thing. She could always lie.
This question seemed innocent and easy enough though. She had actually had this scenario completely planned out in her head. At night she replayed it over and over in her mind. It kept her sane.
"I'd be in a Mediterranean beach town, with a family. I would never get dressed up in anything sexy or tight ever again, and I would not own ONE pair of high-heeled shoes. And I would stay in one place, never traveling, and I would own a poetry bookstore." Sydney smiled at the thought, her words slightly breathless.
Sark smiled a genuine smile, and gazed off, not quite seeing her. Sydney wished she could trap that smile in a jar and keep it. She was sure to never see it again.
"With the complete works of Pablo Neruda." he said, more to himself than to Sydney. She looked at him, surprised. She wouldn't have taken him for a Pablo Neruda fan. Neruda was emotional, unstructured, open. The complete opposite of Sark. That was why he was Sydney's favorite. His poetry was pure, honest, emotion, something Syd never found in her real life. Everyone had secrets.
Sark looked back at Sydney, the emotion once again drained from his face.
"Thank you." he said, simply.
It was her turn to ask a question.
"Why did you choose SD-6 for your operations?"
Sark sat there, thinking a minute, before answering.
"It seemed the most convenient, since I had worked for Irina Derevko, and her husband and daughter both happened to work there. Plus I had had prior dealings-" he coughed, stifling a laugh, "with your agency." By 'dealings' he meant fights with me, I'm sure, Sydney thought, looking at the twinkle in his eye. Sydney waited for him to continue. She could tell in his eyes that that wasn't all there was too it.
"You're lying." she said, when he didn't continue. She could see his eyes lose their spark as he retreated further into his mind, blocking her out. He let out an exasperated sigh.
"Look, Miss Bristow, you can either take it or leave it, that's the only explanation I am giving you."
"Fine," she said, smiling, "But since you didn't tell the whole truth, I get to ask another question." He looked at her a moment, not agreeing with her, not disagreeing. Just staring.
"What is your real name?" This question wasn't for Devlin or Vaughn or her father. This was something she wondered just out of her own curiosity.
______________________________________________
It was beginning to sink into Sark's brain that this wasn't going to be as easy as he had originally thought. It was true that he had her figured out, but now he was getting the feeling that Sydney had him figured out as well. She knew it when he lied. For the first time in a long time, Sark was uneasy.
"What is your real name?" she asked. What was his real name?
. . . Hell if I know, Sark thought. Okay, time to make something up. Don't be so obvious this time Sark. He had made a mistake in underestimating her. He wouldn't do that again.
"It's Brian."
"You're lying."
"No I'm not!" Sydney smiled, enjoying his outburst. Somewhere along the way they had switched roles. No wonder she'd gone off and gotten herself drunk, he thought. This is horrible.
"Sark . . . Just answer the question." One eyebrow raised. Smirk. Jesus Christ . . .
"Fine . . . . . . I-- I don't know."
"Come on Sark. . ."
"I DON'T KNOW!!" he said, exploding once again. She was screwing up his cool. Why did I agree to only talk to her? Oh yeah, because I thought I could handle her, he thought. Sark hated admitting he was wrong. He ran his hands through his hair, and looked at her. For some reason he seemed to be losing the ability wear his apathetic mask around her. It had started when she talked about The bookshop on the Mediterranean. It was the same thing he always dreamed of ding, if things had been different. And then he had smiled-- He could have kicked himself. Never forget Sark. You have no emotions. You feel Nothing. You are Nothing.
"How do you not know your own name?" Now her eyes were penetrating him. She made him want to implode. He couldn't help it. It ached. He broke her gaze, looking down at the ground.
"I-I've forgotten." he said, unnerved. She seemed to know he was telling the truth; she didn't pursue it further. He couldn't believe she had done this to him. It was bad enough he awoke from his dreams earlier to have her leaning over her, but now this. She was hollowing him out. He wanted revenge, and he knew just how to get it.
"My turn to ask a question." he said, looking up at her once more.
"What is the last serious relationship you've had, and how did it end?" Talking about Danny always hit a sore spot on her. He wanted to hit her where it hurt. If looks could kill, he thought, as he saw her glare.
"You know perfectly well how it ended. Danny is dead, Sloane killed him." Her eyes started to well up defiantly. Sark almost felt guilty for a moment, but then he looked deep into her eyes. She was crying awfully easily, he realized. Sydney's like me-- she doesn't wear her heart out on her sleeve. There's something I didn't know about going on here-he realized. The little manipulator-he thought, laughing. She learns quick. Or maybe she always knew.
____________________________
Sark was laughing at her. Sydney couldn't believe it. What heartless person would laugh after she had just described her fiancé's death? Okay, so Syd had fibbed a little. Her last serious relationship had been Noah-but he didn't need to know about that. Nobody knew about that. Not all of it. And she certainly wasn't about to tell Sark the sardonic details of her love life.
"That wasn't your most recent relationship though, was it, Sydney? There was somebody else . . ." he said in what sounded like a dawning realization.
"Who was it Sydney? Your precious handler, who left you for somebody less complicated?" Sark was deliberately trying to push her buttons, regain control of the conversation.
"Leave Vaughn out of this!" she said before she could stop herself. Sark's look softened. He had called her Sydney again.
"Who was it, Sydney?" Sydney looked away, her face hardened from emotion. The fake tears had gone from her face.
"He-he worked at SD-6 . . ." her voice sounded hollow, unlike herself. She took a fleeting look at Sark, and wished she hadn't. He was staring at her silently, with such intensity that she couldn't turn her eyes away.
"I had met him a while back, before Danny and we had had a thing-" she said, trying to make it sound as petty as possible. It wasn't really, and she didn't know why she was doing it. "Through some misunderstandings- Mostly Sloane-We broke it off . . ." Sydney looked down at the ground again. She couldn't keep looking at Sark.
"But then last spring, we ran into each other . . . I was ona mission in France, and he ws stationed there. We figured out our misunderstandings, and . . . . . I dunno . . . . It was like no time had passed between us . . ." Sydney smiled, "But anyways, um . . . it ended up that he kept some things from me . . . namely, that he was a hired assassin."
"I was on a mission with Dixon. We had just entered a house where this assassin had supposedly just finished a job. I found him, and I did exactly what I had been trained to do-I took him down. It wasn't til I had pulled off the guy's ski mask that I found out that I had just killed Noah." a burning sensation was growing behind Syd's eyes.
"He had been talking about leaving the business-and how he wanted me to come with him . . ." Sydney stood up, facing away from Sark momentarily to hide her pain.
______________________________________
Sark saw a single tear glide down her cheek when Sydney turned around again. Other than that, her face showed no emotion. A pang of guilt wracked through him a moment. Well, he had wanted to hurt her. And he had managed. He wondered briefly why he seemed to always be the cause of her sadness. Sark shook his head a moment. This was an interrogation session, not bonding time. Though what the CIA would want with his real name he could not imagine.
Sydney sat facing Sark once more, close to the glass. Lightly, Sark touched the glass with his finger, tracing the track of her tear.
"I'm sorry." was all he said. Sydney nodded, understanding. Suddenly her cell phone rang. Sydney stood to take the call, facing away from him once more. Sark was beginning to miss her face.
"Hey Vaughn . . . . . Yeah, I got it . . . . I'm almost finished . . . . Gimme another minute. . . . . . . . Okay . . . . . . . Okay."
Turning back to Sark, he could tell that she had recomposed herself. The barriers that had crumbled were slowly being rebuilt. But there was time for one more question. She leaned in close enough to him that he could see her breath fogging up the glass, momentarily hiding her lips from view.
"Why do you not sleep?" she asked.
Sark looked at her a moment. The glass created a thin barrier, but it was there. If it disappeared right then, he wouldn't have been able to resist kissing her.
"I dream of things forgotten. I do not wish to remember."
She nodded knowingly, and walked out, leaving him alone to his thoughts.