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 9

Sydney didn't know how long she had been crying in the bathroom. All she knew was that everything was just going from bad to worse. This was one of the few times in her life where she felt utterly helpless, unable to control anything around her. She hated that feeling. She hated the feeling of not knowing. She hated how she was so powerless in dealing with Sark. No one has ever been able to make her feel so weak and helpless.

Finally, Sydney sighed and made her way slowly back to the bedroom, mentally prepared for whatever Sark would throw her way as his way to avenge her ill-conceived slap. She was surprised to find Sark sitting with his back facing her. His face was buried in his hands.

She walked up to him nervously, not knowing quite what to expect. Finally, Sark heard her footsteps approached and his body tensed noticeably. He quickly stood up, but didn't turn to face Sydney.

"Sark, I'm sorry," she began, hoping that this would defuse Sark's anger and hopefully save her friends' lives. Her heart sank when there was no response from Sark. "Sark, please don't hurt Will and Francie," she continued, her voice cracking a bit. She knew that she sounded pathetic, but this was all she could do at this moment.

"I guess I really deserved that slap, huh?" Sark finally asked. His voice was so soft that Sydney barely heard his question.

Sydney froze for a moment, not knowing quite how to answer the question, fearing that this was a trap set up by Sark. "Well, I guess I overreacted," she finally answered.

She could heart a soft, but obviously sarcastic snort from Sark in response to her comment. "That's what they always say, isn't it." Sark turned around abruptly and walked to his bag, where he began to rummage through it absent-mindedly, trying to look busy.

Immediately, the redness around his eyes caught Sydney's attention. "Have.have you been crying?" she asked out loud, not believing what she was seeing.

The question prompted Sark to rummage through his bag at a faster pace. "You're crazy."

Sydney quickly made her way to Sark's bed and forced him to look into her eyes. He was visibly uncomfortable as he began to squirm. "What do you want?" he asked, the usual cockiness in his voice totally absent.

"Why were you crying?" she asked again.

"Just mind your own business, Sydney."

"Well, I'm stuck here with you. So technically, this is my business."

Sark was about to say something when his cell phone rang. He got up from the bed and walked out of the room as he continued to speak into the cell phone. Sydney sighed and turned on the television as she waited for Sark to return. Her eyes fell on a small black book lying on the bed. Sark's diary. She found her hands reaching for the book as her curiosity got the better of her. Her eyes lit up when she realized that the book was not locked.

"Maybe I can get some answers here," she thought. "It's not like he'll tell me anything anyway." Her thoughts were interrupted by feelings of guilt and doubt. After all, a diary is meant to be personal. After a short internal battle, curiosity emerged victorious and Sydney found herself opening the diary and reading its contents. She came across several pages that have been deliberately removed from the diary, which she found odd. She was so immersed in reading the diary contents that she almost didn't hear Sark come back. Luckily, she managed to put the diary back in its original location just in time. She quickly put on her best "bored-to-death" look as she stared at the television.

"We have to go," Sark stated in his usual cool manner, although Sydney could detect a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Where are we going in the middle of the night?"

"Just get your things so we can go, Sydney," Sark replied again with more strain in his voice. "Please," he added.

And so the routine repeated once again. They packed their bags and sped off in the car, going off to who knows where. After driving for well over two hours, stopping only for gas on the way, Sark stopped the car in an open space that was well away from the main highway. A closer look revealed that they were on top of a high cliff that overlooked a deep valley. He shut off the ignition and got out of the car. Sydney followed suit and quietly shut the door. They both remained silent as each seemed deep in thought. After a few minutes, it started to get a little chilly and Sydney climbed back into the car. Sark did the same a couple of minutes later. Again, silence filled the air.

"I'm sorry," Sydney finally said, breaking the silence.

Sark looked at her with a startled look but didn't say anything.

"I didn't realize that you had such a tough childhood," she continued. She looked deeply into Sark's eyes, wanting to gauge his reaction.

Sark laughed softly, but it was a laugh filled with sarcasm and bitterness. "Once a spy, always a spy," he muttered.

Sydney realized that he was talking about the diary, but was surprised at his mild reaction. She was sure he would explode in anger once he found out. "I didn't mean to."

"But you still read it," he answered simply, his voice void of any emotion.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again. Sydney didn't understand why, but the revelations in the diary changed her view of her captor. Even though she still had many questions and many reservations about Sark, she no longer felt the utter hatred towards him that she felt as late as a couple of days ago.

"I don't need your pity," he replied.

"I know. I kind of figured out that much." She paused, wondering whether to continue or not. "Sark?"

"Yes?" Sark turned and looked at Sydney for the first time since they left the hotel. Even in the dark, Sydney could make out streaks of tears on her captor's face.

"Why did you, uh, kidnap me?"

"So you won't end up in a coffin."

"Someone's trying to kill me?" she asked with bewilderment. "Who?"

"Sometimes it's not wise to know too much, Sydney."

She was now more confused as ever. Sydney's mind raced, as she tried to figure out who would want to kill her. "Could it be Sloane?" she thought.

"I need to know, Sark."

"I'll let you know when the time is right, Sydney."

"Let me call Vaughn, Sark. Please?"

"No, Sydney. Doing that will only put your friends' lives in danger too."

"What? Is the CIA after me?"

Instead of answering, Sark simply looked away.

"It is the CIA, isn't it?" Sydney demanded.

"Not quite. Just don't contact them, Sydney. It's not safe."

"And I suppose being with you is safe, Sark?" she asked sarcastically.

"I suppose I'm not to be trusted either," he replied softly. "But you don't have much choice now, do you?"

Sydney didn't know how to answer that question. Sark was right - again. She still didn't trust him, but she really had no choice. Not only was her life in his hands, but so were Francie and Will's well-being. She knew that she needed to talk to Vaughn, but she had yet to figure out how to contact him without Sark's knowledge.

That night, she didn't get any sleep. Not only did Sydney not know where she was going, but now, she didn't even know who to trust.

~ to be continued ~