*******A/N – Thanks to pie for the beta on this and to Soundgarden for the much needed inspiration.

Chapter 11 –

I woke the same as any other day
Except a voice was in my head
It said seize the day, pull the trigger,
Drop the blade
And watch the rolling heads

****

Words you say never seem
To live up to the ones
Inside your head
The lives we make
Never seem to ever get us anywhere
But dead

Lyric excerpts from 'The Day I Tried To Live' by Soundgarden

Things happened somewhat quickly after that.

The same night that Sark told Sydney about his past, her father took Will into protective custody. His stay was short lived though, lasting only a week. The details surrounding Will's brief stint weren't revealed to her, which absolutely killed her. She'd lost some of her father's trust, how much she didn't know, but enough that he kept everything about Will completely out of her reach. Sydney was stuck. Even though she knew that Sark had no plans to follow through with Sloane's orders, she couldn't prove it to anyone without revealing their relationship.

What truly surprised her was that her father didn't release the information either, at least not to anyone that she knew of. Although, so much happened in even the first hours of the next day, there was really no time for questions of that nature.

When she woke the morning after, six o'clock like normal, she was saddened to find Sark not next to her. Her hand lightly caressed his Jacquard sheets, running the length of his body imprint next to her, before rising to see if he was still around. His apartment wasn't that large, so after a brief meander, she concluded that he had indeed left already. .

This wasn't the first time that he was gone before she woke, but she thought today would be different. He would be different. She sure was. She took a moment to reflect on the most incredible night of her life as of late.

She couldn't keep her emotions intact after Sark revealed his past to her. Granted there was much more to the story, she was sure, but his gesture was endearing. He trusted her, just as she did him. She could see the anguish written all over his face as he stood in the kitchen pouring the wine. A man of so many secrets, who just spilled a good amount to pacify a lover's need to know, was bound to feel negatively about his decision.

But she appreciated it, more than she could ever show him. She had cried from happiness, feeling the wall between them was mostly gone. That was why she dared to finally say the words that had been in her heart for some time, words that were supposed to be joyous, except they terrified her. So much that she could only say them at a whisper, and after she was sure that he was asleep. 

Back in his room, she noticed a good amount of his things were gone; most of his suits, a suitcase, and the box where he kept some personal belongings that she had never seen. In the box's place, she found a note – short, but just enough to keep her reassured.

Will be in touch as soon as possible. Things will work out for those who matter. Enjoy your new life.

Sydney choked on the last words. Enjoy my new life? He said that he would be in touch soon, but what was this new life he was speaking of? Her heart grew slightly heavy, anxious, knowing this would be the last time she would see him in this apartment. She feared the worst was yet to come.

Sure enough, when she made it into work that morning, news buzzed around SD-6 of Arvin Sloane's disappearance. Since Sark's was considered to have ulterior motives when he joined SD-6, his disappearance, discovered days later, was of no surprise to all, nor was any connection made between it and Sloane's. Sydney knew that her father suspected something foul, but he made no effort to talk to her about it. She wouldn't have had much to say anyway, she knew probably as much about Sark's plan, and his relationship with Sloane as her father did.

That was just the beginning of an odd day.

Near midday, both Sydney and Jack received urgent, cryptic messages informing them that they were needed at the CIA. After covering their tracks at SD-6, they met with Kendall, and surprisingly many other high-ranking officials. After she heard the first announcement, the rest of the meeting was a blur.

"Early this morning, we received an untraceable email giving us codes to a forty-seventh server at SD-6. Upon receiving confirmation of its validity from Jack Bristow, and finding all of the information that we needed, we've been instructed to infiltrate all of the SD cells."

New life.

The words rang in her head, knowing immediately who the sender of the email was. Soon after, the raids of the cells simultaneously began, and proved to be successful. SD-6 was gone. The thorn in her side was removed, and although she was fully aware that there would be scarring, just having the opportunity to heal could only mean good things.

She felt exactly the same way two days later when Sloane's body was discovered in a remote location, just outside of Galway, Ireland. She didn't mourn his death one bit. The report concluded his death was from a heart attack, although it was noted that he had some sporadic bruising on his body. With him now out of the way, there were only a few other areas of concern in her life.

There had been little word of Irina Derevko's whereabouts. The break that the CIA had received, the same day of the raids, was the best lead that they'd had in a while. In a separate email, locations were given of little known establishments where she was known to spend her time. But the results after searching those spots were nil, all of them wiped clean of anything with substance beforehand.

Her mother was the only reason that Sydney decided to stay in the CIA. After the demise of SD-6 she could have just gone her own way, truly lived for once, but she felt somewhat responsible for Irina's escape, and wanted more than anything to see her brought to justice.

Two weeks after her new life began, Sydney requested a week off. No one thought twice about agreeing to it. She didn't tell anyone of the pamphlet that she'd received of Galway, Ireland days before. The paper had a picture of a gorgeous sunset in mid summer, along with a few of the well know tourists spots, and a few words, an address to be exact.

It was the first that she had heard of his whereabouts since their last night. He was wise though, of course, fleeing the States. He would be surely wanted for not only his past with Irina, but also his recent ties with SD-6 and Sloane.

So after booking a flight under her alias, and having a brief and non-resolving conversation with her father, Sydney made her way overseas. Ignoring her father's concern, her mother's unknown status, and any protocol, she decided to live her life the way that she wanted to for once.

The weather in Ireland was perfect for the time of year. A bit chilly, in the low sixties, but with absolutely clear and beautiful blue skies that grew darker by the minute. He didn't give her an exact date or time to come, leaving it open for her to decide. So she could only hope that he was there on that Friday evening.

The address given was in the city. She drove her rented Audi slowly past the rows of similar homes; two story houses that sat, evenly spaced, next to each other. Having memorized the address, Sydney watched the numbers descend as she passed them one by one. It had only been a relatively short time since she'd seen him last, but she couldn't hide her excitement. Her life had changed because of him, and although she was sure that he didn't do it all for her, she couldn't help but be pleased with the option to lead a new life, as he put it so well.

As she neared her destination, her excitement and the smile that had been plastered on her face all day faded. It was nearly dark, but still light enough for her to see three people standing out front of the house she was headed to, one surely familiar and the other two vaguely. She recognized the taupe wool sweater that Sark was wearing as one that she'd wore a few months back on one of Los Angeles' chillier nights. Pulling into the nearest spot, keeping herself unseen, Sydney stared for a moment then finally recognized the men Sark was talking to.

Holsteinsborg, Greenland. The warehouse.

It was such a short time ago, so Irina's men were fairly easy to remember. All three men moved into the shadows, likely giving their conversation the privacy it needed. Sydney grabbed the gun that was issued from the CIA, by her request, a necessary precautionary measure due to her mother, and stepped from her vehicle.

Quietly, she approached the area she last saw them. She was glad that she wore a black sweater and jeans. The darkness of her clothing, and the dimness of near night helped her to hide. Her heart hammered her chest, thrumming in her ears. She readied herself for anything, knowing that these men meant business.

Once she came within earshot, she stopped, hoping to get an understanding of what was happening. She could only make out a few sentences.

"She wanted to give you one last warning before she took the necessary steps."

"Tell her to do what she wishes. I'm still going to continue to send them what I have."

Slowly she peeked her head around the corner that they had walked behind, catching a quick visual. The man whose nose she broke in Greenland held his arms behind his back. She watched him discreetly cock his gun.

"Are you sure that's the message that you would like me to relay to her?" He spoke once he finished readying his gun.

"She won't be too surprised by it." Sark replied flatly, but his sentence trailed off as he caught a glimpse of her. He recovered quickly, hopefully fast enough.

But the large nosed man noticed his falter, and spun to find Sydney. Without thinking twice she raised her arm to fire, but he beat her to it. She had heard the sound countless times, was desensitized to the loud pop, but what happened after the gunshot was most unfamiliar.

She felt the small foreign object furiously rip through her. Tearing through skin, slicing through tissue and her insides, destroying what was in its path. Her chest. No, it was her stomach. Her gun fell from her grip, her hands dropping down to the area that was hit. She couldn't tell exactly where it had penetrated, but the entire area burned with an intense fire.

His voice was distant, her ears clouded with the thumping of her heart, but the terrified look on his face and the shape of his mouth confirmed what was said.

"No!"

She could only believe the sound that came from Sark's mouth to be a scream. It seemed to last for the duration of her standing, the single shot speeding through her, to when her body immediately weakened, crumpling to the ground. His face had countless emotions contorting it, and she barely noticed him pull out his Glock, emptying what was in his magazine into the two men.

Everything grew blurry. She didn't realize the pools of water that had formed in her eyes caused her hazy vision, until she felt the liquid heat slowly dripping down her cheeks. With her best effort, she tried to catch her breath, but the pain was too much, to severe to do anything but breathe small and short.

She felt someone place their arm under her neck, but when she turned her head slightly to face them, she found a stranger, just an onlooker that came to help. Seconds later, she saw Sark roughly push the stranger away from her, taking over their position.

He was frantic, she could tell by his face, but his words were barely heard over her deafening heartbeat.

"Call somebody!"

He forced softness to his face, but the furrow in his brow showed his concern. She watched as his eyes dropped down to the area of impact. The first sign of her condition was when his gaze fell to her stomach. His eyes closed for an extended period before re-opening to look at her. In the time they were closed, a mist was created, sadness surfaced. She could tell that he intentionally pushed it all back after she spoke.

"It hurts." Her words were barely intelligible, stifled by the throbbing in her stomach.

"I know. Just keep your eyes on me. You'll feel like closing them soon, but don't."

Her eyes fluttered as he curled her hair behind her ear with her free hand. God he looks beautiful. Sydney took one of her hands from her stomach, lifting the shaky limb to his cheek. The blood from her hands smeared on his cheek, leaving a crimson handprint.

"I'm sorry." She whispered in between breaths.

He placed his hand on hers, on his cheek, smiling softly. "It's only blood, Sydney."

"No, my mother… this. I'm sorry."

A tear slowly escaped his eye, wiggling its way down to their intertwined hands. He shook his head no, telling her she shouldn't be concerned about that.

"God, how I love you." Sark whispered through another tear, and as he kissed the back of her hand. "Do you know that? I love you, Sydney."

He said it. She couldn't help but feel some happiness in hearing those words from him, no matter how much pain she was in. She took a sharp breath in, as a huge gush of pain burst through her body. The piercing scream that flew from her shook him, his eyes widening with fear. Immediately after, her body felt lighter, calmer, like she wanted to rest.

"Sydney, please. Eyes open."

"I love you too."

Everything became blurry again, this time not from her tears. Her surroundings faded into what seemed like black, but an oddly peaceful darkness. The loud sirens that she heard around her moments before also washed out. The last thing she heard was the sound of his quiet voice.

"Sydney…"