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 19
Sydney stood where she was with her mouth open in shock. The information was hard to digest, and Sydney had trouble understanding the implications of this revelation. "What do you mean? I'm sure our blood types are identical."
"I'm sorry, Miss Bristow," the doctor said with a sympathetic smile. "But we must proceed with the operation. We cannot run the risk of waiting any longer."
"Will he be in any danger?" she asked anxiously.
"We'll do our best, Miss Bristow," the doctor assured. With that, he disappeared behind the doors of the operating room.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Hours seemed to have passed and Sydney eventually dozed off, although her rest was anything but fitful. She was awoken by the sound of talking. After a few moments, it became clear to hear that she was still at the hospital. Rubbing her eyes she stood up and stretched just as the doctor emerged from the operating room, looking exhausted.
"Well?" Sydney asked, not sure if she really wanted to hear what the doctor was about to say.
"Your brother is out of danger, but he is still very weak," he answered. "We'll need to keep him here several days for observations."
Sydney breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the doctor's words. "Can I go in and see him?"
The doctor smiled and nodded. "Just don't let him exert too much energy. He needs plenty of rest."
After the doctor left, Sydney quietly made her way into Sark's room. He was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, his skin pale. She pulled up a chair and sat down at his bedside. As she looked into Sark's young face, she thought back to the time when she had first encountered Sark. These thoughts then drifted to their various encounters. She was so engrossed with her memories that she didn't even notice the tears streaming down her face.
Then another thought came into her mind. "His blood type doesn't match mine," Sydney thought. "Why did they lie to me?" Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft cough. She glanced up just as Sark began to awake from his sleep.
"Take it easy, Andrew," she said as she tried to help Sark sit up in bed.
To her surprise, she was met with the cold, emotionless expression that she had seen so many times before. "What are you doing here?" Sark asked bluntly.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Sydney answered, realizing how lame her answer sounded, but not understanding Sark's sudden coldness towards her.
"Well, I'm fine, Miss Bristow," he answered tersely. "You can get on with your life now."
"Andrew."
Sark sighed and looked away. "Why is she making this so difficult," he asked himself.
"I want to thank you," Sydney began, "for saving me."
"You don't have to," Sark replied without turning to face Sydney.
"I might have misjudged you before," she continued, "and I'm sorry for that."
Sark snickered in response to Sydney's apology. "Why are you telling me all this?"
"Because."
"Don't you have other things to do besides hanging around a cold-blooded psychopath killer's hospital room?" Sark shot back. "If your precious CIA handler is worried about me escaping, you can tell him to relax. I'm not going to go anywhere for a while."
"Andrew." Sydney began.
"Since when did I switch from being Sark to Andrew?"
Sydney was becoming frustrated with Sark's attitude towards her. This wasn't what she had expected to happen. "This isn't easy for me either, you know."
Again, Sark only responded by a cold snicker. "If you say so, Miss Bristow."
"Look!" Sydney said in a voice louder than she had intended. "You think it's easy for me to find out that my mother was a psychopath, that my mortal enemy was actually my younger brother, that my friends were taken hostage and beaten, then only to see my newfound brother being shot by my handler, only to find out that this whole fiasco was a lie??"
Sark turned to face Sydney, his eyes were cold and distant. "That's tough, Miss Bristow. Life sucks, doesn't it?"
Sydney had just about had it with Mr. Cold. "Just what the hell is your problem??"
"Nothing," Sark answered curtly. "Just leave."
"Oh no, you don't," Sydney countered. "Not after everything I've been through the last few days. You're not just going to tell me to leave."
Sark sighed again, knowing that he could not force Sydney to leave. "What do you want?" he asked with resignation.
"First of all, why did you and Irina lie to me?" Sydney flinched as she saw Sark's head snap up and his ice blue eyes suddenly become fiery.
"What the fuck was that supposed to mean?" he snapped, anger apparently in his voice.
Having gone too far to turn back, Sydney could do little but to continue. "My brother and I were really close when we were young," she began. "We did everything together. People always thought we were twins or something. We were so alike in so many ways; even our blood types were identical."
Sark looked at Sydney without saying a word. "So what are you getting at?"
"The doctors told me that you and I didn't share the same blood type," she answered as she choked back tears that threatened to fall. "Why did you do this to me?"
Sark stared at her in silence. No one spoke a word for several minutes. Finally, Sark spoke, his voice hoarse. "You think that I lied to you about my identity," he said softly. "You think that Irina and I set you up."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to," Sark answered, cutting her off. "Get out," he finally said, softly but firmly.
Sydney sighed, knowing that her words came out harsher than she had wanted. "Andrew."
"GET OUT!!" Sark shouted, his voice betraying his anger and fury. Knowing that staying around wouldn't do much good, Sydney decided to heed Sark's orders.
"I'll come back to see you later on," she said softly as she gathered her belongings. As she put on her jacket, the door suddenly opened as several men in dark suits entered the room.
Before Sydney could ask what was going on, one of the men spoke. "Mr. Sark, you're hereby placed under arrest on charges of murder and committing treasonous acts against the United States of America."
~ to be continued ~
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.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Guardian Angel - Chapter 19
Sydney stood where she was with her mouth open in shock. The information was hard to digest, and Sydney had trouble understanding the implications of this revelation. "What do you mean? I'm sure our blood types are identical."
"I'm sorry, Miss Bristow," the doctor said with a sympathetic smile. "But we must proceed with the operation. We cannot run the risk of waiting any longer."
"Will he be in any danger?" she asked anxiously.
"We'll do our best, Miss Bristow," the doctor assured. With that, he disappeared behind the doors of the operating room.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Hours seemed to have passed and Sydney eventually dozed off, although her rest was anything but fitful. She was awoken by the sound of talking. After a few moments, it became clear to hear that she was still at the hospital. Rubbing her eyes she stood up and stretched just as the doctor emerged from the operating room, looking exhausted.
"Well?" Sydney asked, not sure if she really wanted to hear what the doctor was about to say.
"Your brother is out of danger, but he is still very weak," he answered. "We'll need to keep him here several days for observations."
Sydney breathed a sigh of relief upon hearing the doctor's words. "Can I go in and see him?"
The doctor smiled and nodded. "Just don't let him exert too much energy. He needs plenty of rest."
After the doctor left, Sydney quietly made her way into Sark's room. He was lying on the bed with his eyes closed, his skin pale. She pulled up a chair and sat down at his bedside. As she looked into Sark's young face, she thought back to the time when she had first encountered Sark. These thoughts then drifted to their various encounters. She was so engrossed with her memories that she didn't even notice the tears streaming down her face.
Then another thought came into her mind. "His blood type doesn't match mine," Sydney thought. "Why did they lie to me?" Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft cough. She glanced up just as Sark began to awake from his sleep.
"Take it easy, Andrew," she said as she tried to help Sark sit up in bed.
To her surprise, she was met with the cold, emotionless expression that she had seen so many times before. "What are you doing here?" Sark asked bluntly.
"I wanted to make sure you were okay," Sydney answered, realizing how lame her answer sounded, but not understanding Sark's sudden coldness towards her.
"Well, I'm fine, Miss Bristow," he answered tersely. "You can get on with your life now."
"Andrew."
Sark sighed and looked away. "Why is she making this so difficult," he asked himself.
"I want to thank you," Sydney began, "for saving me."
"You don't have to," Sark replied without turning to face Sydney.
"I might have misjudged you before," she continued, "and I'm sorry for that."
Sark snickered in response to Sydney's apology. "Why are you telling me all this?"
"Because."
"Don't you have other things to do besides hanging around a cold-blooded psychopath killer's hospital room?" Sark shot back. "If your precious CIA handler is worried about me escaping, you can tell him to relax. I'm not going to go anywhere for a while."
"Andrew." Sydney began.
"Since when did I switch from being Sark to Andrew?"
Sydney was becoming frustrated with Sark's attitude towards her. This wasn't what she had expected to happen. "This isn't easy for me either, you know."
Again, Sark only responded by a cold snicker. "If you say so, Miss Bristow."
"Look!" Sydney said in a voice louder than she had intended. "You think it's easy for me to find out that my mother was a psychopath, that my mortal enemy was actually my younger brother, that my friends were taken hostage and beaten, then only to see my newfound brother being shot by my handler, only to find out that this whole fiasco was a lie??"
Sark turned to face Sydney, his eyes were cold and distant. "That's tough, Miss Bristow. Life sucks, doesn't it?"
Sydney had just about had it with Mr. Cold. "Just what the hell is your problem??"
"Nothing," Sark answered curtly. "Just leave."
"Oh no, you don't," Sydney countered. "Not after everything I've been through the last few days. You're not just going to tell me to leave."
Sark sighed again, knowing that he could not force Sydney to leave. "What do you want?" he asked with resignation.
"First of all, why did you and Irina lie to me?" Sydney flinched as she saw Sark's head snap up and his ice blue eyes suddenly become fiery.
"What the fuck was that supposed to mean?" he snapped, anger apparently in his voice.
Having gone too far to turn back, Sydney could do little but to continue. "My brother and I were really close when we were young," she began. "We did everything together. People always thought we were twins or something. We were so alike in so many ways; even our blood types were identical."
Sark looked at Sydney without saying a word. "So what are you getting at?"
"The doctors told me that you and I didn't share the same blood type," she answered as she choked back tears that threatened to fall. "Why did you do this to me?"
Sark stared at her in silence. No one spoke a word for several minutes. Finally, Sark spoke, his voice hoarse. "You think that I lied to you about my identity," he said softly. "You think that Irina and I set you up."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to," Sark answered, cutting her off. "Get out," he finally said, softly but firmly.
Sydney sighed, knowing that her words came out harsher than she had wanted. "Andrew."
"GET OUT!!" Sark shouted, his voice betraying his anger and fury. Knowing that staying around wouldn't do much good, Sydney decided to heed Sark's orders.
"I'll come back to see you later on," she said softly as she gathered her belongings. As she put on her jacket, the door suddenly opened as several men in dark suits entered the room.
Before Sydney could ask what was going on, one of the men spoke. "Mr. Sark, you're hereby placed under arrest on charges of murder and committing treasonous acts against the United States of America."
~ to be continued ~
