Disclaimer: Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone, is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.

This is my first Alias fic. I'd love to get feedback! Please review the story or e-mail me at jeff_langdon@hotmail.com! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed the story so far.

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The Guardian Angel - Chapter 8

Sydney woke up to find herself in an SUV, speeding down some highway to an unknown destination. Her mind was groggy and she struggled in vain to figure out why she was in this vehicle. A few more minutes passed and her mind finally cleared enough for her to think. The car was still moving and the scenery looked unfamiliar. One glance to her left and she became wide awake. Sark.

Sark had his attention solely on driving that he did not even notice Sydney glaring at him.

"Stop the car." Before Sark had a chance to react, he felt the cold steel of the pistol at his temple. "I'll say it one more time. Stop. The. Car."

Sark sighed and did as he was told.

"Step out."

Again, Sark complied with the orders, knowing that it was unwise to try and put up a fight at this time. Sydney slowly got out of the car, the gun still aimed at Sark's head. She walked over to where Sark was standing and without warning, landing a fist to his body, causing him to double over in pain. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to his feet, only to land another fist on him, this time on his face. The force sent Sark reeling, leaving him sprawled on the ground. Sydney kicked her victim viciously several times before pointing gun at the forehead of her prisoner. A smile crept onto her face. "Well, Sark, since you like shooting your victims in the forehead so much, how would you like to try it on yourself?"

Sark glared at Sydney but remained silent, refusing to engage in any sort of conversation with her. He noticed the startled look on her face, as she failed to hide her surprise at his silence. "What's the matter, Sark? What happened to all your smart-ass comments and your stupid smirk?" Sydney taunted. She couldn't help but be as harsh as she could to Sark. After all, he was the cause of all the trouble.

"Shut up and get in the car, Miss Bristow." There was no emotion in his voice. It was not a question or a request. It was a simple matter-of-fact statement - nothing more, nothing less.

"You've got some nerve to make demands right now. Look where the gun is pointing."

"If you don't want your next meeting with Mr. Tippen and your cheerful roommate to be at the morgue, you'll get yourself in that car now."

Sydney's face grew red with fury, but Sark knew that she wouldn't try anything given the fact that her friends' lives were at stake. Instead, she went back into the car and slammed the door shut, refusing to let her captor see that she was on the verge of tears.

Sark got up from the ground, dusted himself off and slowly got back in the car. Once inside, he quietly started the car and continued driving without saying another word.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

The hotel was quite luxurious. "Only Sark would think of coming to a five- star hotel even when he's in the midst of a kidnapping," Sydney thought as she unknowingly rolled her eyes. She sat on one of the couches as she watched Sark arguing with one of the receptionists. Actually, he looked calm and collected, as usual, but Sydney could tell that he was far from happy. If there was one thing that she learned about Sark, it was how to tell when he was angry or annoyed. This was certainly one of those times.

After several minutes, Sark finally walked towards Sydney. "What happened?" Sydney asked, trying her best to sound disinterested.

"Nothing."

"Then why were you yelling at the receptionist?"

"I wasn't yelling."

"You weren't exactly smiling at her. Oh I forgot, you don't know how to smile."

Sark ignored Syndey's comments and walked towards the elevators. Walking down a long corridor on the sixth floor, they finally came to their room. Sark swiped his card and they entered without saying a word to each other.

"One bed?" Sydney asked, horrified by the thought of sharing a bed with Sark.

Sark smirked at Sydney and walked into the room to put down his bags. "I'm taking the couch, if that's what you're afraid of, Miss Bristow."

"Would you stop calling me Miss Bristow. That is so annoying!"

"Whatever," Sark answered half-heartedly. "There are clothes in the bag, if you need to use the shower or whatever." With that, Sark headed out into the balcony, leaving Sydney standing in the middle of the room.

The shower was refreshing for Sydney, and it also gave her time to think. However, the more she thought about this whole fiasco, the angrier she got. She still had no idea why she was being brought here. And if it really was a kidnapping, she would have thought that Sark would bring her to Irina right away. Why were they wasting time in a hotel? And then there was Francie and Will. Just what did Sark do with them? She quickly finished her shower and decided to confront her captor. She was going to get answers one way or another.

She emerged from the bathroom to find Sark sitting on the couch. He didn't notice Sydney approaching because his attention was on his precious black diary. A thoughtful expression was on his face as he wrote, causing Sydney to pause to observe her captor. "Interesting," she thought, "he never struck me as the academic type." However, she soon snapped out of her thoughts and resumed her task of confronting Sark. She marched right up to him and stared him down.

Sark looked up and looked momentarily startled. He quickly closed his diary and put it away carefully, making sure he hid the encoded password from Sydney's view. As he turned around to face Sydney again, he was met with a cold, angry glare. "What do you want with me?" she demanded in a hostile tone.

Sark remained silent for a minute. "You'll find out soon enough, Sydney."

"And what about Francie and Will? What did you do with them?"

"I already told you. You'll find out soon enough." And that was that. Sark didn't bother to elaborate any further. And Sydney knew that he wouldn't reveal any more information. Admitting defeat, she dropped the subject and resigned herself to watching television.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Earlier, in Los Angeles.

"Agent Vaughn, we can't locate Agent Bristow."

"What do you mean you can't locate her?"

"Her house is empty, sir."

"What about her car?"

"It's still in the garage."

"Damn!" Vaughn cursed. "Keep searching. If you find anything, let me know immediately!"

Vaughn dialed Sydney's cell phone but there was no answer. He sighed and stared out the window. "Where are you, Syd?"

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Several days had passed and the routine was still the same. Sydney found her patience quickly running thin as Sark continued to evade her questions. She still had no idea why she was kidnapped or where Sark was taking her. Worse, she had no clue what Sark had done with Will and Francie.

She got out of her bed to find that as usual, Sark was already up. His bed was neatly made and his bags packed. She found him sitting by the window. He was staring out the window, gazing out to the sea. Sydney approached him and was surprised that he didn't acknowledge her presence.

"So," she began awkwardly, "where are we off to today?" She could not help but put in a touch of sarcasm to her voice.

"Just get dressed so we can get going," Sark answered without turning to face her. Sydney did notice, however, that his voice was weary and tired. It wasn't the usual tone that she expected to hear from her captor.

"Why don't you answer my questions for once instead of always avoiding them?"

Sark turned around and glared at Sydney. What shocked her was the look in his face. His eyes were dull and his body language conveyed a sense of loneliness or sadness. "Sark? Lonely? Sad?" she thought to herself. "Impossible," she concluded quickly.

"I'll answer your questions when I feel like it, Syndey," he replied. Again, his tone of voice lacked the life of his usual self.

"No, you're going to answer my questions now, Sark," Sydney insisted, her voice rising in anger.

"Do you know that you're so damn annoying?" Sark countered with an equally annoyed voice. "No wonder you and Agent Vaughan like to fuck in bed together! Maybe I should."

SMACK!

Before Sydney could stop herself, the palm of her hands connected with Sark's face. The slap was hard and loud, followed by complete silence. Sark stood there in shock, his hands covering his now reddening cheek. Sydney also stood there in shock, fearing that she might have just put her friends' life in grave danger. With that thought in mind, she ran and locked herself in the bathroom, refusing to cry in front of Sark.

~ to be continued ~