Eternity, an alias fanfic

Eternity

Disclaimer: Alias is not mine.
Notes: February CM challenge. Requirements are some form of Freudian ego defense mechanism, a dream sequence, and a scene between Vaughn and Irina. Thanks to Dominique and pennylane for the beta.

He knows she is here, dammit he's been searching for three years. There have been too many mistakes, and this time, he will find her. Why she chooses this part of the city, he is uncertain. It's dirty and crowded, filled with drug dealers and criminals. The stench almost makes him dizzy, but he has smelt worse, seen worse, done worse. He arrives at his destination, looking up and thinking something must be wrong. The building in front of him is old and run down, nothing like the elegance that had once been a part of her. Perhaps he is mistaken, but no, this address is right. It matches the one scrawled on the scrap of paper clutched in his hand. He moves swiftly up the stairs and at once, is in her apartment. Breaking and entering has never been a problem. The inside of the apartment surprises him almost, if he could be surprised. It is dirty with clothes and possessions strewn all over. The mirrors in the bathrooms are cracked and the place smells strongly of smoke. Everybody has a breaking point, he muses, even she. He almost wants to comfort her, but not quite. Love is a strange thing really; it can be deadly. He laughs once before letting himself out of the apartment.

I'll be back.

She walks slowly down the street, toward the little apartment she now calls "home," her long brown hair streaming behind her. The streets are over crowded with people, just the way she likes. It's easy to become invisible, just a face among the crowd. Just someone normal, if only it were that easy. She bumps into someone, who mutters a "sorry" before continuing on his way, head down and hands stuffed into his pockets. She glances back casually; blonde hair, tall, lean, muscular, well dressed. It registers vaguely in her mind that he seems almost familiar, his voice for the most part; she shrugs it off, not wanting to think about anything that might have to do with before.

As the door opens in her apartment, she senses something is off. Her instinct is to grab a gun and look for intruders, something that has never really left her. She pushes the odd feeling down, not wanting to remember anything, feel anything. In the life she left behind, everyone was gone anyway. Their faces and voices are starting to blur together, not that she cares. She doesn't care for anything anymore. She has learned to ignore her emotions, ignore love. Love is useless, and brutal. It'll get you killed.

She lights a cigarette and smokes it, looking at herself in the shattered mirror. Her face is as beautiful and flawless as it used to be, with the exception of the bags under her green eyes and the tiredness that's starting to show. The cracks make her reflection distorted, but that's just one more thing about which she couldn't care less. She tosses the finished cigarette in the trash, changes clothes and goes dancing.

This is what most nights are like. Her life has become automatic to her. Anything is better than the raw pain; the feeling that wouldn't go away in the beginning. Her days are filled with few friends and endless flings.

This is my life.

"Where have you been, Sydney?"

She freezes, her hand still on the doorknob, the voice painstakingly familiar. She turns on the light and sees him, sitting casually on her sofa, a lazy smile on his face.

"Sark. How did you find me?" Her voice carries an edge of panic, and her pulse races. He looks as gorgeous as he did three years ago, and it only makes her more vulnerable.

His smirk grows wider, knowing fully the effect he has on her. "I must admit, it wasn't easy. It took me three years, Sydney. Three whole years, but it felt like forever. I must say, I never expected to find you here. I'd always thought you'd go somewhere more... exotic." His voice is low and intimate, just as she remembers. Just hearing him speak almost brings back some powerful memories. Apparently, even he has changed a bit in three years.

"That was what I tried to do. Nobody expects me to be here. They won't search for me. Dad and Vaughn, they'll think I'm in a nice place. Just like you did." She shuts the door behind her. He is giving her a strange look. "What?"

"Nothing... just... you think that your father and Agent Vaughn would be looking for you?" He is confused for a split second, before realizing what she has done. She has tried to block out the past. She ran, perhaps a bit too far.

"Of course. Why wouldn't they be? They care about me, you know." Her voice is hard and her eyes are cold. "Why are you here?"

He shrugs indifferently. "I don't know. It was a thrill finding you, though. My hard work has finally paid off. Did you miss me, Sydney?" He walks slowly towards her, tilting his head, keeping his blue eyes on her, now, green ones. "I've missed you." His voice is almost a growl.

She fights to remain composed. As much as she hates to admit it, he is slowly undoing her. Undoing everything she spent the last three years perfecting. Yes. "No," she says weakly, and they both know it's a lie. "Get the hell out." She manages with more conviction, but still, not enough.

He laughs, a sound she remembers all too well. "Now, now, Sydney. You know I can't do that." He closes the distance between the two of them, and brings his lips to hers. He kisses her harshly. The way he slides his arms around her waist forces her to react. Either pull away forcefully, or dive into the kiss. She returns his kiss, savoring the taste of him, the need taking over her body. She drapes her arms over his shoulders, tugging slightly on his hair. Their bodies press together, fitting perfectly. He breaks the kiss and drags his lips across her jaw, leaving a trail of moisture. She bits her bottom lip, but it doesn't prevent a small moan from escaping. He smiles, sliding his hands up and down her arms, finally resting dangerously low on her waist. She smiles as well.

"I've missed you, Aidan."

It's been too long.

"Run!"

He runs through the streets and alleys, twisting and turning, pulling her with him. He is acutely aware of his surroundings, of the footsteps pounding into the pavement behind them. Someone is gaining on him and she is slowing him down.

"Hurry up, Sydney; they're going to get us. We have to run faster."

The two of them continue to run, but it's useless. They run into an alley, only to be faced with a dead end. The footsteps stop. They turn around and are immediately looking down the barrel of a Glock.

Sark slowly reaches behind his back and pulls out his own gun, keeping an eye on Sloane, who is here for the kill, no doubt.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Mr. Sark."

BANG. A gunshot goes off.

Sydney's eyes are focusing on something in Sark's hand. "Aidan" Her eyes shut as she lets out a puff of breath. Bright red blood is seeping from the wound, a single shot to the heart.

"Sydney!" Sark looks down at his hand. His gun has been fired. He turns.

Sloane is gone.

Even before she opens her eyes, she feels the emptiness beside her. Cracking opening one eye, she sighs, knowing he is gone. Glancing around the room, she notices that his jacket is still there.

He hasn't left me yet.

She pulls on her clothes quickly and walks out of the bedroom. He is sitting at the kitchen, staring off into space. She walks over to him, and sits down promptly.

"Hey."

He glances at her quickly, kissing her forehead. "How did you sleep?" He asks quietly, tracing circles into her palm.

"Good. How about you?" She raises her eyebrows at his strange behavior. He's awfully quiet today.

"Fairly well." He doesn't tell her about his dream, about how he fired his gun into her chest. How he killed her. "Sydney... we need to talk."

"Okay."

"Yesterday... you said that you thought your father and Agent Vaughn would be looking for you. Sydney, are you okay?" He tries to think of a way to tell her the truth without hurting her. She's been hurt too much.

"What are you talking about? I'm fine. Why don't you think that they care about me enough to search for me?" Her voice rises slightly, angry that he would think she was anything but fine.

"Sydney... calm down. I'm not implying anything. I know they cared about you very much. They would've searched for you." He hopes that she catches on and remembers everything that happened the night before she left. The night before she ran away, ran too far.

"Cared? They still care about me, Sark! How dare you!" She is practically spitting fire, her heart beating faster and faster.

How can they not still love me?

"Sydney. Think back to the night before you left. You're taking this too far. You can't fight the truth so much." He looks into her eyes, pleads with her. Her eyes are blank, devoid of everything. He searches for something to hold on to, but she gives him nothing. "They're dead, Sydney. You were there. Sydney, try to remember. You can't go on like this. Sydney, you have to remember. Why do you have green contacts? Because of Vaughn."

CRACK. She slaps him, hard. "Get out." She clenches her jaw. "Get out, now. How dare you say that they are dead. How dare you!"

He touches his cheek, knowing it will be red. He gets up slowly, keeping his eyes on her angry face. "Think about it, Sydney. I'll be back." He is out the door before she can tell him to stay away and not come back.

After he leaves, she trashes the room. She throws things and exhausts herself. When she has no more strength, she slides down next to the wall, defeated. In one day, he has turned her life over; he has torn it apart.

It wasn't much of a life anyway.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a little black book. Curious, she pulls it from under a pile of clothes, opening it slowly, fearing its contents.

Today is the last day of this part of my life.

Oh, no.

She had written everything in this journal. Everything about her old life, about SD6 and the CIA. About her mother and father. About Vaughn.

After today, I'm starting over. I'm going to forget everything about this life.

And she had. She had thrown away her memories, and everything else of her old life.

This is my story, but I will never read it. Someone else will. I'm leaving the pain behind.

Guess I'm going to read it after all.

She opens it to the first page and begins to read. As she absorbs the information, each piece unlocks a memory and a part of her life she had discarded. It is almost too much for her. She forces herself to read on.

Sloane is finally dead. Irina betrayed us. Sark killed her. I would be free. But Dad and Vaughn they're dead also. Aidan... I can't stay with him. I have nobody left. It's time for me to go.

She gasps, her heart hurting, feeling as if it's going to burst. Now she remembers. She remembers the last moment she ever saw Vaughn alive. She saw him die right before her eyes. She wants to cry, but can't. The reality is finally sinking in. It's hitting hard.

She chained us, Vaughn and I. I almost thought that she could be my mother again. Almost. But no mother would ever torture her daughter, or chain her to a wall. That's what she did. I could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, but I could do nothing about it. Sloane killed Dad. Irina killed Sloane. It was an endless, bloody cycle. Irina was going to kill us too. She had settled for torturing Vaughn first. She knew how much it hurt me to see him battered and nearly dying.

"Agent Vaughn. Perhaps you would like to give me some information. I need the Rambaldi device. The one you stole from me. I want it back. I know the CIA has hidden it. It was very valuable. Perhaps you could give me a clue as to where it is?" Irina gave him a fake smile, waving her gun around.

Rambaldi. I was seething. That stupid ancient prophet caused the world so much trouble. I wanted to go to his grave and shoot him over and over. Everything was caused by Rambaldi.

"No." Vaughn wouldn't say anything. He was so beaten, on the edge of death, but he struggled to remain strong.

"No? I could always kill Sydney here. See how you do without her." Irina walked over to me and pressed the gun against my temple. "Well?"

"You can't kill her. She's too valuable to your plans." Vaughn choked out. I knew he couldn't hold on much longer, but I was proud that he had seen through Irina's lies.

Apparently, she was not. "You little..." She clenched her teeth together and shot him. He died instantly. I closed my eyes and let out a sob. I couldn't stop crying. Everyone was dead.

BANG. Another shot went off. I thought that Irina had shot me. A few seconds later, I felt a pair of arms lifting me up, taking me away. I opened my eyes. Sark

She closes her eyes, remembering how he took her to his house. How he cleaned her up, told her the truth about him. British Intelligence. He had been Deep Cover in Irina's agency at first. So deep, nearly no one knew about it. She laughs. Even now, it seems reasonable that she fell for him at that time. An innocent kiss just grew and grew.

The next morning, she was gone.

As she remembers everything he did for her, she almost feels terrible for slapping him. But she can't change that. She closes her eyes once again, exhausted and falls to the floor.

She wakes to the feel of a cool cloth on her forehead. She opens her eyes slowly.

"Sark?"

He sits on the edge of her bed, holding a small towel to her head. He kisses her hand. "Sydney... shhh."

"Mmm. What's going on?" She feels a splitting headache.

"Maybe you should tell me. I found you collapsed on the floor holding that book. What happened?" He squeezes her hand gently.

She thinks for a moment, and glances at the small black book he has placed on her dresser.

Vaughn

"Oh." She groans again. "You were... you were right. I didn't want to accept it... Vaughn... Dad... That day, when you saved me, I realized I had fallen for you. It wasn't... I didn't want it to be that way. I wanted to get away. I couldn't stay, Sark, you understand. All those people... I locked those memories away." She points at the book. He picks it up and flips through it.

"Sydney... I'm so sorry."

"Me too," She whispers as tears start to stream down her cheeks. She struggles to get up.

He pulls her gently into his arms and lets her cry, stroking her hair gently and murmuring to her. She sobs, crying for the first time in three years, God forbid that she has never mourned for her losses. Her body shakes as she lets out her sorrows and her anguish, everything that has been hidden for these past three years. He holds her in his arms like a delicate child, rocking her gently. She buries herself into his chest, holding on to the last thing dear to her in this world. Like it or not, she had fallen for him, and love is not something that goes away as easily as everything else does. He lets her cry for as long as she needs, whispering to her. They stay like that, him holding her, for a long time, even after she had stopped crying. They need this; they need to convince themselves that finding each other was for the better. He has been searching for three years for her and he isn't about to let her go again.

"Sydney... you can't go on like this. Come away with me. It's the only way. You have nothing here in this life for you. We can start anew, somewhere else, somewhere exotic." He kisses her forehead and strokes her hair.

"Sark... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." She touches his cheek, the spot she hit.

"What are you sorry for? If anything, I should be sorry. I shouldn't have let you get away the first time. Look where it has got you."

"I'm sorry for leaving. Take me away. I need you, Sark." She pleads with him, as if afraid he will leave her.

"Where do you want to go, love?"

"Anywhere. You can pick. Sark... thank you." She feels a little better, but she knows she won't feel complete again until she is gone from this place.

"How come you don't call me by my first name?" The corners of his mouth tug mischievously.

"It's a habit. Besides, I do call you Aidan... sometimes." She smiles slightly, knowing exactly when she calls him by his first name.

"All right. Do you have anything you want to take with you?"

"No. Well... I'll take the journal. Everything else is replaceable. Let me wash up, though."

A few minutes later, she slides her hand into his as he leads her out of the apartment. She glances back at the past three years of her life and closes the door, hearing the finality of her decision.

Her eyes are no longer green.

end.