A/N: Thanks for reviewing and I apologize for my language towards the end
of this! I swear once or twice! But please read and review!
"Dixon? What the hell are you doing here?" Sydney rushed towards him, dressed in a black suit with black rimmed glasses on.
"Sloane sent me at the last minute. They found three Russian KGB agents in the basement and we have to bring them in. We didn't have enough time to get you in the info, so he sent me."
She brought her hand up to her ear, "I can't believe he sent you, Dixon." She over pronounced each word so Vaughn would get the message.
"Shit." Vaughn gasped and turned to the rest of the crew in the van, "We need to get out of here." He turned back around and spoke clearly, "Syd, we're getting out of here so don't worry about that. You're gonna have to give Sloane 4.7 and just concentrate on getting the hostages. You need to save those people. Marx WILL have them killed."
"-and Sloane wants you to still grab the book." Dixon completed his speech, overlapping on Vaughn's.
Sydney's eyes had grown wide with disbelief but now were coming back down to normal size. She adjusted the robe around her body and nodded affirmatively towards Dixon. "I already got the book." She motioned towards the bag that she was tightly clutching, "Are you sure that they're KGB?"
"Sydney, who were you talking to? You said 'mountaineer.' Last time we went out, you were 'bluebird.' And besides, Sloane doesn't have you on a comm. link." He reached back and touched his gun, reassuring himself that it was there. His eyes were tight with suspicion. His distrust was evident in his body language and he was ready to shoot her, if he thought she was a double agent.
Vaughn sat in the truck moving away from building, coming up with this story, "My father wanted to keep an eye on me. He's on the other end of the comm. link. He still doesn't trust my abilities on my own." He turned towards the other agents, who were breathing a sigh of relief, "We're not out of the woods yet, people."
Sydney sighed and looked at her feet for a moment, a trait she had picked up from Vaughn, "My father wanted to keep an eye on me. He's on the other end of the comm. link. He still doesn't trust my abilities of me on my own." She recited, twisting the last phrase slightly. "He didn't want me to tell anyone because he thought it would undermine my position." She stepped forward towards her partner and whispered this information softly, in fear that anyone would pick up on it. "Now," her voice firmed up slightly, "I should give you 4.7, so you can get out of here with it safely. I'll go and get the three agents. Now, where am I going?"
He took a moment to register this information and his chocolate brown eyes still were masked with disbelief and partial concern. His chest expanded slowly and he finally nodded, "Okay."
She reached into her white bag and retrieved the battered book and handed it from her milky white hands to his chocolate brown ones. She tried to feign a look of trust and happiness but she could tell that he wasn't completely convinced, "Second door to the right."
Sydney smiled a professional smile and bolted towards the door. The door was only a few feet from where they had previously stood and she pressed her hands against the doorknob and opened slowly, surprised it was left unlocked. She slowly pushed it open, expecting something to happen but there was only silence. No guards, no alarms. Just horrible silence. The door was pushed open more and inside was revealed a white room with bright lights turned on. It took a moment for her to adjust to the lights blinding her eyes and it was a moment too late. She didn't know what was happening or what had happened or anything of even that nature. Her own breath started to escape her at a rapid rate. Each gasp was harder and harder. She reached up for her comm. link, "Oh G-d." She muttered. And then silence. She just heard a the door shut from behind her and with her last remaining bit of consciousness, she felt her own body drop to the ground. She fought hard to keep her eyes open and stand up but it was impossible.
"Sydney? Sydney? What the hell is going on? Come on, Sydney! Answer me!" Vaughn's voice boomed in her ears and it was impossible for her to answer. Her body had melted from the strange clear gas that was filling the room.
Everything was dark and quiet, too dark and quiet. "And the fabulous Miss Bristow is taken out at the knees." A chilling voice awoke her from her less than peaceful slumber with a sudden flicker of a blinding exposed lights. She forced her eyes to flutter open to find to her horror being strapped down to the cold hospital like table with a twenty-two year old male standing over her. Her disgusting gown had been replaced. She was now stripped bare of her disgusting outfit and replaced with a hospital like gown with her natural hair exposed. The feeling of repulsion swept over her as she thought of Sark undressing her and changing her. Her body shuddered inwardly at the horrid thought.
"Let me up, Sark." She barked and pulled at her chains that her bound her arms and legs so tightly.
"Ah, Miss Bristow does not like to be bound, I see." He replied again stepping away from her and letting the bright light invade her eyes. "But you see, I cannot let you up. My employer has sent me on a mission, one that I cannot leave unfinished. And one more unfortunate news for you, I cannot possibly let you up." He rested his hands on the cold aluminum table, letting his black suit wrinkle slightly at his joints.
"You worked for my mother, Sark. She's gone. Now who the hell are you working with?" She snarled and fought against the chains once more. This time, she felt blood ooze from the restraints. She took to a quick inventory of her body. Was there any more pain from any other part of her body? No, she was almost positive that she was only bleeding from her wrists and her ankles, if that.
Sark smiled politely and began to walk to the other side of the room, "Now if I told you, would you join me? I could actually use another set of hands in finishing in this." His flat shoes were muffled against the cold floor.
"Go to hell." Her words matched the temperature of the room.
Sark smirked, "I suggest closing your eyes. This could get a little ugly. I don't want to offend you. But then again, we can avoid all of this mess, Miss Bristow."
"Go to hell." She repeated again, not bothering to push against the metal chains that bound her.
He clicked his tongue in remorse, "Tsk tsk, Miss Bristow. Let's just cut the chase before you can tell me where I can go. Now, you know and I know that you took something of value to me." He paused for a moment walked to the far end of the room, out of her sightline. He started to fumble with something and after a moments of foreign sounds, he reappeared in front of her, holding a woman by restraints. She was obviously weak and was previously tortured. Her brown eyes looked at Sydney's rather dimly and her olive toned skin was covered in dirt and dried blood. Her breath was barely there and her eyes started to role back into her head as she fought to keep consciousness. "Miss Bristow meet Anya Chesnulatich."
"What the hell are you doing, Sark?" Her senses became heightened as she noted the poor condition of Anya.
"Where is 4.7, Miss Bristow? I know you took it from me, so please do not bother me with trying to deny it. Please cut the case. I get bored rather easily." He snorted in the thought of being so bored by one of Sydney's explanations.
She drew her breath rather slowly, as if debating whether to tell him or not, "I don't have your precious little book, Sark."
Sark looked generally disappointed as he adjusted Anya's chains in her hands, "I never understood why Irinia never recruited you to her organization."
"You know the answer to that, Sark." She hissed back.
He sighed gently, "You have a choice, Sydney. I can kill all three of these innocent people, not KGB members, but innocent people or I can kill you or you can tell me where 4.7 is."
Sydney didn't know what to do. Her only thought was why Vaughn had rushed in here to save her or why Dixon wasn't strapped next to her. She didn't even bother to think about the innocent life hanging in the balance in front of her. Her thoughts were irrational and unsteady. *Focus Sydney! Focus*
Sark continued, "I will kill you, Sydney. Don't second guess that."
**I am your ally, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**You are like a daughter to me, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**Laura Bristow died twenty years ago, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**Irinia Derevko is not to be trusted, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**I'm your best friend, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**I love you Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**You are the prophet, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**And in her forth seventh year, all will come unfurled. Don't second guess that.**
Her lips curled into a smile as all these thoughts flooded her mind. "Nothing is ever for certain, Sark."
Sark looked rather disappointed, "May I test if my knife is sharp then? Make sure that is certain."
She glowered, "Don't let me stop you."
He let Anya fall flat. She was clearly unconscious now and didn't feel a thing. He bent down next to Sydney, fumbled for a minute and ran his knife from her thigh to her ankle, "I do believe it is sharp enough." She shout out in pain and felt all of her muscles tighten. Sark acknowledged this with a simple shrug of the shoulders. He groaned as he stood up straight and picked up Anya off of the floor. "And I will ask you again. Spare your life or theirs? Actually, I can spare all of yours. Just tell me where the book is."
"You don't have the guts to kill any of us." She spat in between heavy gasps from pain. She was drenched in a cold sweat and her body was now physically shaking. Why did Sark love to make her suffer so?
He laughed slightly and brought his knife to Anya's throat, slitting it and spraying her in blood. "Wrong." He let Anya's lifeless body drop and began to shout orders in Russian. The lights when out again and all she could do was concentrate on her breath, rising and falling out of her chest. Vaughn's image appeared her in her subconscious. He was saving her from all of this. He dried her tears and dropped her bleeding. He would wash away the blood that Sark had splattered over her body. His tender hands bound her wounds and straightened her hair.
I can take you away from here
So lonely inside
So busy out there
All you wanted was somebody who cares
The bright lights appeared again. She was blinded by the horrible light and the pain had grown more intense from her leg as the cut had attempted to clot and close, "Let's make this quick, Miss Bristow, I have other things to attend to. Where is the book?"
"Get a pen and paper. I'll tell you were it is."
Sark eagerly agreed and pulled a pen and notepad from his paper, "Go ahead."
"Okay. N-O-R-O-M- S-S-A-R-O-U-Y-P-U."
Sark obeyed with the eagerness of a new found puppy, "Alright, Miss Bristow."
"Good, now reverse it."
"UPYOURASSMORON." He wrote below in his blue ink pen. After studying it for a moment, he spoke, "Up your ass, moron? Very clever, Miss Bristow." He sighed in annoyance, "So I'm guessing that you're going to tell me?"
"I guess not." She smirked triumphantly.
"Well, then.let's make a decision, shall we? Your life or his? This is Anya's husband, Boris."
No response.
And Boris was dead.
Darkness.
The lights blinded her once again. She felt her body starting to shake from shock.
"I never got to properly introduce myself." A chilling voice etched across. "I am Paul Mitchell Marx and you, from what I understand, are Sydney Anne Bristow, an agent from SD-6." He walked in from the door and stood over the ailing agent. "Why did you lie to me, Miss Bristow?" She starred blankly up into the white cement ceiling. She kept that image of Vaughn in her head. He was keeping her sane at that moment. She couldn't and she wouldn't let this bastard take control of her. "Don't you have anything to say to me, Miss Bristow? Why you lied to me?" He came closer and closer, "Aren't you wondering how I freed myself? Ah, well, my associate, Mr. Sark, had the courtesy to untie me as he was making his way to his chambers. Ah well. You are beautiful, Miss Bristow." He crept closer and closer to the aluminum bed and ran his disgusting hand up the inside of her thigh, up the barely there hospital like gown. She felt his hands rest on the top on her thigh and drum there for a moment. She cringed inwardly but tried to keep her game face on. She couldn't let this man know how much she detested him. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can say yes to this and we can complete the job I thought you were sent here to do or you can say no and I can force you to complete the job I thought you were sent her to do." He was talking about raping her. "It's your choice, Miss Bristow. Let me know. I'll be back." He caressed the inside of her thigh, reaching higher beneath the hospital like gown. And he leaned over and kissed her. She remained emotionless and stopped breathing until he withdrew himself from her mouth. And he left as quickly as he had came. And the lights went with him.
The bright lights appeared again, "Where's the book? You know, their deaths..their deaths are all your fault. You could have spared three innocent people's lives. All you had to do was say the word and I would have let them go. It is all your fault, Miss Bristow." Sark stood behind her and hissed these words in her ear. She started to shut down and blocked the world out. "Your life or Alfred's or the book?"
She was starting to break a little bit, "I told you. I don't have the freaking book. Now, let me and Alfred go and we'll leave you alone. I don't know who took the book. I was after Anya and Boris, not your precious little book!"
"I want that book, Miss Bristow!" Sark finally lost his temper and slit Alfred's throat. The final one was dead. "And now, it's your turn."
Vaughn had gotten up for a moment and retrieved two mugs full of coffee and set one down in front of Sydney. "I still don't understand how you escaped."
Sydney took the mug eagerly in her hands and wrapped her hands around it to absorb some of its warmth. "And I still don't understand how you didn't send in a team to get me!" She exclaimed, almost knocking the mug out of her hands.
He leaned deeper into his worn in couch, Vaughn thought for a moment, "We never received data that Dixon had left the building. We thought that he was down with you. I had no idea or else you know, I would have been down there in a half of a second. I never want you to go through any of that. No person should ever have to go through any of that. But," he paused for a moment as he swallowed, "how DID you escape?"
She placed the mug down on the table and sighed heavily. Her voice was quaking slightly..it was hard enough to tell that much of the story. "After S-Sark killed Boris, he unchained me. Yeah, he actually unchained and wanted to spar with me. But, the cut on my leg," She reached down and pulled up the large sweatpants and revealed a purple, healing cut, with Vaughn noticeably cringing. "it's almost healed but..he wanted to spar and he kept beating the daylights out of me but I took this metal rod lying around and I beat him across the face with. I honestly don't know how I found it or how I hit him with it. But he fell and was out cold." She lost eye contract with him and started to examine a little nick in the wood coffee table before him. "And I check the pulse on Anya, Alfred, and Boris. There were gone and I knew I had to get out of there. I just ran. And that's when I found the truck with you in it."
But she left our a crucial peace of information. As she was running away from Sark, she heard a cry, the male voice that had degraded her early scream out through the silence, "Sark! Get over here! Sark! Did you kill Bristow yet? Damn you, Sydney Bristow!" But she tried to cover that up. Vaughn didn't need to know all about that. "That was probably the ugliest out fit I've ever worn." She laughed tearfully, bringing her hands up to her face. She didn't even notice that tears had begun to fall.
"Yeah, I remembers seeing you afterwards." Vaughn replied sympathetically and moved an inch closer to her. "I wish I could say something to make this all go away for you." He placed his mug down and griped her hand tightly in his. The electricity flowed through their palms into each other.
"But you know, I honestly think it's better that I can still feel this. I think it would be worse not to have any effects from it." She brought her knees up to her chest and clasped her hands in front rather protectively, breaking the connection between them. She knew if she stayed too longer she wouldn't be able to control herself. Sure, she was able not to kill Sloane on a daily basis and could control her instinctual urges to slit his throat, she couldn't control herself when it came to matters of the hear. Her manner changed in a heartbeat, "But, I need to get out of here. It's too dangerous." She quickly got to her feet and made towards the bedroom to retrieve her bag. Vaughn jumped up and grabbed her by the wrist.
"Sydney." He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to stay there forever. They could forget about SD-6 and the CIA and run away together, with new identities. She could become that English professor and he could be..well, he could just be. All it would take would be one word and he was sold. But that was never going to happen.
She looked his hand clutching her thinning wrist, "Vaughn." Her eyes grew to look like that of a teenager embarrassed my her boyfriend kissing her in front of her parents.
He stood there for a moment and carefully thought about her. She was so weak but at the same time, so strong. She was dying in front of him and all she wanted to do was live freely. Finally, he let go of her, "I'll take you home."
She smile gratefully at him and disappeared back around the hallway, leaving Vaughn to his own thoughts. He sighed heavily and walked over to the couch, burying his head in his hands, concentrating on his breath steadily falling in and out. Donovan was silent and probably asleep in the corner and for just a moment, the entire house was still. There was no woman bustling around in her bedroom, changing into someone else. There was not a man sitting in turmoil in his apartment, waiting for something horrible to happen. It was just a silence that he had forgotten about. The breath came slowly again and his entire chest expanded. He started to silently pray that Sydney wasn't just putting up a front. He would know if she wasn't or at least he tried to convince himself. He was growing more and more anxious. And as he though the peace was finally coming towards her, the door of his apartment came creaking open. This action went unnoticed for a moment but it was quickly recovered. Donovan began to bark loudly.
"Oh hush up, Donnie." Came the feminine voice and door continued to push open.
Every bone an d muscle started to tense up. Blame it on his carefully orchestrated fight or flight reflex. The blood began to pound in his systems and he wished honestly didn't know what was going on.
"Michael, are you home yet?" The voice came again and his eyes were glowing green with panic. Alice was home. She walked into the door, tossing a day's worth of shopping packages near the door.
"Yeah, baby." He manage to choke, suddenly finding his tongue swelling in his mouth. His brain stopped working for a moment and he was incapable of thought.
She walked into the apartment, shutting the door tightly behind her with her hip and smiled broadly at her love, "I wasn't expecting you home for a while now." She was pretty girl, there was no doubt in his mind but right now, the only thought was absolute panic. Panic. Panic. Panic.
And as absolute luck would have it, Sydney turned the corner, dressed head to toe in Jules Tortell's clothing. She had surveyed the situation from the door and had appeared, fully aware of what story she was going to tell and pray that Vaughn would know enough to play along. Jules was gone and a new alias was created.
Alice's face twisted with jealous and rage. "And who's this?" Her attention turned abruptly to the unfamiliar figure standing outside Vaughn's s doorway.
"You must be Alice." She brandished a French accent and moved quickly extending her hand out to Alice. "I am Maggie, Michelle's cousin-na."
Alice's face melted into warmth, "Oh. I didn't know that Michael had a cousin coming to visit-"
"Oh! He didn't! I sup-rize him! And 'is face! Oh! It was so funny!" She walked closer to Alice and kissed her once on each cheek, "But I was just on my way back home. I can only stay for a little bit." She turned away from the girlfriend and towards Vaughn, "Michelle, tu peut aller a l'aeroport avec moi?"
Vaughn smiled inwardly at his beautiful and talented asset, "D'accord, Maggie. Allons-y." He took her arm, kissed Alice in a rather foreign fashion and bolted out the door, "Bye, baby."
Alice sputtered and looked absolutely shocked at the events but obeyed silently. "B-bye."
Vaughn walked down the hallway, Sydney leading the way and the stairs until they reached the outside. Not a word was uttered between them as they made their way into his car and drove away. It wasn't until they were a safe distance away from his apartment that she spoke up, "Just drop me off at the warehouse. I can jog home from there."
He looked towards her with a look of compassion, "Are you sure? I mean, don't you live twenty minutes away from the warehouse by car?"
She looked out the window and starred there for a moment. The sun was shining still and the air was warm and clean feeling. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." She replied simply.
"But I do."
"Well, don't."
He opened his mouth to speak again but promptly decided against it. They had only known each other for what? two years? He knew that as soon as she started to snap that something was going that she wasn't letting onto. She was putting the fence around her again and refused to let him in, "You know..if you need me for anything..please..call me. You have my cell number. If you feel like you're falling apart, I want to hear from you. Okay?"
A simple head turn and a smile was the response, "I know. Thank you." But she couldn't ignore the pounding in her heart or the frantic pace in her brain. She knew it wasn't the last she would think about the mission and honestly knew that wasn't the last time that she would ever hear from Marx.
A/N: Okay, I promise, next chapter we go post AND THE BLUEBIRD MAY FALL. So, if you a little foggy about some of the last chapters and stuff, I suggest rereading it. It could get kinda of confusing. Portia will be back and some correlation between Sark, Marx, and Portia will drive a lot. Keep in mind everything that's going with Sydney and the number forty seven (for additional info about 47, check out alias-online.com..they have an awesome page on Rambaldi and the number 47. All of this take place pre THE GETAWAY, so I will make some references to stuff before hand but keep in mind, next chapter, SD-6 is gone and Sloane is dead. Review, tell me what you think and if you know how to put things in BOLD or ITALIC font, please let me know or else my chapter five will be confusing.
"Dixon? What the hell are you doing here?" Sydney rushed towards him, dressed in a black suit with black rimmed glasses on.
"Sloane sent me at the last minute. They found three Russian KGB agents in the basement and we have to bring them in. We didn't have enough time to get you in the info, so he sent me."
She brought her hand up to her ear, "I can't believe he sent you, Dixon." She over pronounced each word so Vaughn would get the message.
"Shit." Vaughn gasped and turned to the rest of the crew in the van, "We need to get out of here." He turned back around and spoke clearly, "Syd, we're getting out of here so don't worry about that. You're gonna have to give Sloane 4.7 and just concentrate on getting the hostages. You need to save those people. Marx WILL have them killed."
"-and Sloane wants you to still grab the book." Dixon completed his speech, overlapping on Vaughn's.
Sydney's eyes had grown wide with disbelief but now were coming back down to normal size. She adjusted the robe around her body and nodded affirmatively towards Dixon. "I already got the book." She motioned towards the bag that she was tightly clutching, "Are you sure that they're KGB?"
"Sydney, who were you talking to? You said 'mountaineer.' Last time we went out, you were 'bluebird.' And besides, Sloane doesn't have you on a comm. link." He reached back and touched his gun, reassuring himself that it was there. His eyes were tight with suspicion. His distrust was evident in his body language and he was ready to shoot her, if he thought she was a double agent.
Vaughn sat in the truck moving away from building, coming up with this story, "My father wanted to keep an eye on me. He's on the other end of the comm. link. He still doesn't trust my abilities on my own." He turned towards the other agents, who were breathing a sigh of relief, "We're not out of the woods yet, people."
Sydney sighed and looked at her feet for a moment, a trait she had picked up from Vaughn, "My father wanted to keep an eye on me. He's on the other end of the comm. link. He still doesn't trust my abilities of me on my own." She recited, twisting the last phrase slightly. "He didn't want me to tell anyone because he thought it would undermine my position." She stepped forward towards her partner and whispered this information softly, in fear that anyone would pick up on it. "Now," her voice firmed up slightly, "I should give you 4.7, so you can get out of here with it safely. I'll go and get the three agents. Now, where am I going?"
He took a moment to register this information and his chocolate brown eyes still were masked with disbelief and partial concern. His chest expanded slowly and he finally nodded, "Okay."
She reached into her white bag and retrieved the battered book and handed it from her milky white hands to his chocolate brown ones. She tried to feign a look of trust and happiness but she could tell that he wasn't completely convinced, "Second door to the right."
Sydney smiled a professional smile and bolted towards the door. The door was only a few feet from where they had previously stood and she pressed her hands against the doorknob and opened slowly, surprised it was left unlocked. She slowly pushed it open, expecting something to happen but there was only silence. No guards, no alarms. Just horrible silence. The door was pushed open more and inside was revealed a white room with bright lights turned on. It took a moment for her to adjust to the lights blinding her eyes and it was a moment too late. She didn't know what was happening or what had happened or anything of even that nature. Her own breath started to escape her at a rapid rate. Each gasp was harder and harder. She reached up for her comm. link, "Oh G-d." She muttered. And then silence. She just heard a the door shut from behind her and with her last remaining bit of consciousness, she felt her own body drop to the ground. She fought hard to keep her eyes open and stand up but it was impossible.
"Sydney? Sydney? What the hell is going on? Come on, Sydney! Answer me!" Vaughn's voice boomed in her ears and it was impossible for her to answer. Her body had melted from the strange clear gas that was filling the room.
Everything was dark and quiet, too dark and quiet. "And the fabulous Miss Bristow is taken out at the knees." A chilling voice awoke her from her less than peaceful slumber with a sudden flicker of a blinding exposed lights. She forced her eyes to flutter open to find to her horror being strapped down to the cold hospital like table with a twenty-two year old male standing over her. Her disgusting gown had been replaced. She was now stripped bare of her disgusting outfit and replaced with a hospital like gown with her natural hair exposed. The feeling of repulsion swept over her as she thought of Sark undressing her and changing her. Her body shuddered inwardly at the horrid thought.
"Let me up, Sark." She barked and pulled at her chains that her bound her arms and legs so tightly.
"Ah, Miss Bristow does not like to be bound, I see." He replied again stepping away from her and letting the bright light invade her eyes. "But you see, I cannot let you up. My employer has sent me on a mission, one that I cannot leave unfinished. And one more unfortunate news for you, I cannot possibly let you up." He rested his hands on the cold aluminum table, letting his black suit wrinkle slightly at his joints.
"You worked for my mother, Sark. She's gone. Now who the hell are you working with?" She snarled and fought against the chains once more. This time, she felt blood ooze from the restraints. She took to a quick inventory of her body. Was there any more pain from any other part of her body? No, she was almost positive that she was only bleeding from her wrists and her ankles, if that.
Sark smiled politely and began to walk to the other side of the room, "Now if I told you, would you join me? I could actually use another set of hands in finishing in this." His flat shoes were muffled against the cold floor.
"Go to hell." Her words matched the temperature of the room.
Sark smirked, "I suggest closing your eyes. This could get a little ugly. I don't want to offend you. But then again, we can avoid all of this mess, Miss Bristow."
"Go to hell." She repeated again, not bothering to push against the metal chains that bound her.
He clicked his tongue in remorse, "Tsk tsk, Miss Bristow. Let's just cut the chase before you can tell me where I can go. Now, you know and I know that you took something of value to me." He paused for a moment walked to the far end of the room, out of her sightline. He started to fumble with something and after a moments of foreign sounds, he reappeared in front of her, holding a woman by restraints. She was obviously weak and was previously tortured. Her brown eyes looked at Sydney's rather dimly and her olive toned skin was covered in dirt and dried blood. Her breath was barely there and her eyes started to role back into her head as she fought to keep consciousness. "Miss Bristow meet Anya Chesnulatich."
"What the hell are you doing, Sark?" Her senses became heightened as she noted the poor condition of Anya.
"Where is 4.7, Miss Bristow? I know you took it from me, so please do not bother me with trying to deny it. Please cut the case. I get bored rather easily." He snorted in the thought of being so bored by one of Sydney's explanations.
She drew her breath rather slowly, as if debating whether to tell him or not, "I don't have your precious little book, Sark."
Sark looked generally disappointed as he adjusted Anya's chains in her hands, "I never understood why Irinia never recruited you to her organization."
"You know the answer to that, Sark." She hissed back.
He sighed gently, "You have a choice, Sydney. I can kill all three of these innocent people, not KGB members, but innocent people or I can kill you or you can tell me where 4.7 is."
Sydney didn't know what to do. Her only thought was why Vaughn had rushed in here to save her or why Dixon wasn't strapped next to her. She didn't even bother to think about the innocent life hanging in the balance in front of her. Her thoughts were irrational and unsteady. *Focus Sydney! Focus*
Sark continued, "I will kill you, Sydney. Don't second guess that."
**I am your ally, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**You are like a daughter to me, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**Laura Bristow died twenty years ago, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**Irinia Derevko is not to be trusted, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**I'm your best friend, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**I love you Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**You are the prophet, Sydney. Don't second guess that.**
**And in her forth seventh year, all will come unfurled. Don't second guess that.**
Her lips curled into a smile as all these thoughts flooded her mind. "Nothing is ever for certain, Sark."
Sark looked rather disappointed, "May I test if my knife is sharp then? Make sure that is certain."
She glowered, "Don't let me stop you."
He let Anya fall flat. She was clearly unconscious now and didn't feel a thing. He bent down next to Sydney, fumbled for a minute and ran his knife from her thigh to her ankle, "I do believe it is sharp enough." She shout out in pain and felt all of her muscles tighten. Sark acknowledged this with a simple shrug of the shoulders. He groaned as he stood up straight and picked up Anya off of the floor. "And I will ask you again. Spare your life or theirs? Actually, I can spare all of yours. Just tell me where the book is."
"You don't have the guts to kill any of us." She spat in between heavy gasps from pain. She was drenched in a cold sweat and her body was now physically shaking. Why did Sark love to make her suffer so?
He laughed slightly and brought his knife to Anya's throat, slitting it and spraying her in blood. "Wrong." He let Anya's lifeless body drop and began to shout orders in Russian. The lights when out again and all she could do was concentrate on her breath, rising and falling out of her chest. Vaughn's image appeared her in her subconscious. He was saving her from all of this. He dried her tears and dropped her bleeding. He would wash away the blood that Sark had splattered over her body. His tender hands bound her wounds and straightened her hair.
I can take you away from here
So lonely inside
So busy out there
All you wanted was somebody who cares
The bright lights appeared again. She was blinded by the horrible light and the pain had grown more intense from her leg as the cut had attempted to clot and close, "Let's make this quick, Miss Bristow, I have other things to attend to. Where is the book?"
"Get a pen and paper. I'll tell you were it is."
Sark eagerly agreed and pulled a pen and notepad from his paper, "Go ahead."
"Okay. N-O-R-O-M- S-S-A-R-O-U-Y-P-U."
Sark obeyed with the eagerness of a new found puppy, "Alright, Miss Bristow."
"Good, now reverse it."
"UPYOURASSMORON." He wrote below in his blue ink pen. After studying it for a moment, he spoke, "Up your ass, moron? Very clever, Miss Bristow." He sighed in annoyance, "So I'm guessing that you're going to tell me?"
"I guess not." She smirked triumphantly.
"Well, then.let's make a decision, shall we? Your life or his? This is Anya's husband, Boris."
No response.
And Boris was dead.
Darkness.
The lights blinded her once again. She felt her body starting to shake from shock.
"I never got to properly introduce myself." A chilling voice etched across. "I am Paul Mitchell Marx and you, from what I understand, are Sydney Anne Bristow, an agent from SD-6." He walked in from the door and stood over the ailing agent. "Why did you lie to me, Miss Bristow?" She starred blankly up into the white cement ceiling. She kept that image of Vaughn in her head. He was keeping her sane at that moment. She couldn't and she wouldn't let this bastard take control of her. "Don't you have anything to say to me, Miss Bristow? Why you lied to me?" He came closer and closer, "Aren't you wondering how I freed myself? Ah, well, my associate, Mr. Sark, had the courtesy to untie me as he was making his way to his chambers. Ah well. You are beautiful, Miss Bristow." He crept closer and closer to the aluminum bed and ran his disgusting hand up the inside of her thigh, up the barely there hospital like gown. She felt his hands rest on the top on her thigh and drum there for a moment. She cringed inwardly but tried to keep her game face on. She couldn't let this man know how much she detested him. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can say yes to this and we can complete the job I thought you were sent here to do or you can say no and I can force you to complete the job I thought you were sent her to do." He was talking about raping her. "It's your choice, Miss Bristow. Let me know. I'll be back." He caressed the inside of her thigh, reaching higher beneath the hospital like gown. And he leaned over and kissed her. She remained emotionless and stopped breathing until he withdrew himself from her mouth. And he left as quickly as he had came. And the lights went with him.
The bright lights appeared again, "Where's the book? You know, their deaths..their deaths are all your fault. You could have spared three innocent people's lives. All you had to do was say the word and I would have let them go. It is all your fault, Miss Bristow." Sark stood behind her and hissed these words in her ear. She started to shut down and blocked the world out. "Your life or Alfred's or the book?"
She was starting to break a little bit, "I told you. I don't have the freaking book. Now, let me and Alfred go and we'll leave you alone. I don't know who took the book. I was after Anya and Boris, not your precious little book!"
"I want that book, Miss Bristow!" Sark finally lost his temper and slit Alfred's throat. The final one was dead. "And now, it's your turn."
Vaughn had gotten up for a moment and retrieved two mugs full of coffee and set one down in front of Sydney. "I still don't understand how you escaped."
Sydney took the mug eagerly in her hands and wrapped her hands around it to absorb some of its warmth. "And I still don't understand how you didn't send in a team to get me!" She exclaimed, almost knocking the mug out of her hands.
He leaned deeper into his worn in couch, Vaughn thought for a moment, "We never received data that Dixon had left the building. We thought that he was down with you. I had no idea or else you know, I would have been down there in a half of a second. I never want you to go through any of that. No person should ever have to go through any of that. But," he paused for a moment as he swallowed, "how DID you escape?"
She placed the mug down on the table and sighed heavily. Her voice was quaking slightly..it was hard enough to tell that much of the story. "After S-Sark killed Boris, he unchained me. Yeah, he actually unchained and wanted to spar with me. But, the cut on my leg," She reached down and pulled up the large sweatpants and revealed a purple, healing cut, with Vaughn noticeably cringing. "it's almost healed but..he wanted to spar and he kept beating the daylights out of me but I took this metal rod lying around and I beat him across the face with. I honestly don't know how I found it or how I hit him with it. But he fell and was out cold." She lost eye contract with him and started to examine a little nick in the wood coffee table before him. "And I check the pulse on Anya, Alfred, and Boris. There were gone and I knew I had to get out of there. I just ran. And that's when I found the truck with you in it."
But she left our a crucial peace of information. As she was running away from Sark, she heard a cry, the male voice that had degraded her early scream out through the silence, "Sark! Get over here! Sark! Did you kill Bristow yet? Damn you, Sydney Bristow!" But she tried to cover that up. Vaughn didn't need to know all about that. "That was probably the ugliest out fit I've ever worn." She laughed tearfully, bringing her hands up to her face. She didn't even notice that tears had begun to fall.
"Yeah, I remembers seeing you afterwards." Vaughn replied sympathetically and moved an inch closer to her. "I wish I could say something to make this all go away for you." He placed his mug down and griped her hand tightly in his. The electricity flowed through their palms into each other.
"But you know, I honestly think it's better that I can still feel this. I think it would be worse not to have any effects from it." She brought her knees up to her chest and clasped her hands in front rather protectively, breaking the connection between them. She knew if she stayed too longer she wouldn't be able to control herself. Sure, she was able not to kill Sloane on a daily basis and could control her instinctual urges to slit his throat, she couldn't control herself when it came to matters of the hear. Her manner changed in a heartbeat, "But, I need to get out of here. It's too dangerous." She quickly got to her feet and made towards the bedroom to retrieve her bag. Vaughn jumped up and grabbed her by the wrist.
"Sydney." He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to stay there forever. They could forget about SD-6 and the CIA and run away together, with new identities. She could become that English professor and he could be..well, he could just be. All it would take would be one word and he was sold. But that was never going to happen.
She looked his hand clutching her thinning wrist, "Vaughn." Her eyes grew to look like that of a teenager embarrassed my her boyfriend kissing her in front of her parents.
He stood there for a moment and carefully thought about her. She was so weak but at the same time, so strong. She was dying in front of him and all she wanted to do was live freely. Finally, he let go of her, "I'll take you home."
She smile gratefully at him and disappeared back around the hallway, leaving Vaughn to his own thoughts. He sighed heavily and walked over to the couch, burying his head in his hands, concentrating on his breath steadily falling in and out. Donovan was silent and probably asleep in the corner and for just a moment, the entire house was still. There was no woman bustling around in her bedroom, changing into someone else. There was not a man sitting in turmoil in his apartment, waiting for something horrible to happen. It was just a silence that he had forgotten about. The breath came slowly again and his entire chest expanded. He started to silently pray that Sydney wasn't just putting up a front. He would know if she wasn't or at least he tried to convince himself. He was growing more and more anxious. And as he though the peace was finally coming towards her, the door of his apartment came creaking open. This action went unnoticed for a moment but it was quickly recovered. Donovan began to bark loudly.
"Oh hush up, Donnie." Came the feminine voice and door continued to push open.
Every bone an d muscle started to tense up. Blame it on his carefully orchestrated fight or flight reflex. The blood began to pound in his systems and he wished honestly didn't know what was going on.
"Michael, are you home yet?" The voice came again and his eyes were glowing green with panic. Alice was home. She walked into the door, tossing a day's worth of shopping packages near the door.
"Yeah, baby." He manage to choke, suddenly finding his tongue swelling in his mouth. His brain stopped working for a moment and he was incapable of thought.
She walked into the apartment, shutting the door tightly behind her with her hip and smiled broadly at her love, "I wasn't expecting you home for a while now." She was pretty girl, there was no doubt in his mind but right now, the only thought was absolute panic. Panic. Panic. Panic.
And as absolute luck would have it, Sydney turned the corner, dressed head to toe in Jules Tortell's clothing. She had surveyed the situation from the door and had appeared, fully aware of what story she was going to tell and pray that Vaughn would know enough to play along. Jules was gone and a new alias was created.
Alice's face twisted with jealous and rage. "And who's this?" Her attention turned abruptly to the unfamiliar figure standing outside Vaughn's s doorway.
"You must be Alice." She brandished a French accent and moved quickly extending her hand out to Alice. "I am Maggie, Michelle's cousin-na."
Alice's face melted into warmth, "Oh. I didn't know that Michael had a cousin coming to visit-"
"Oh! He didn't! I sup-rize him! And 'is face! Oh! It was so funny!" She walked closer to Alice and kissed her once on each cheek, "But I was just on my way back home. I can only stay for a little bit." She turned away from the girlfriend and towards Vaughn, "Michelle, tu peut aller a l'aeroport avec moi?"
Vaughn smiled inwardly at his beautiful and talented asset, "D'accord, Maggie. Allons-y." He took her arm, kissed Alice in a rather foreign fashion and bolted out the door, "Bye, baby."
Alice sputtered and looked absolutely shocked at the events but obeyed silently. "B-bye."
Vaughn walked down the hallway, Sydney leading the way and the stairs until they reached the outside. Not a word was uttered between them as they made their way into his car and drove away. It wasn't until they were a safe distance away from his apartment that she spoke up, "Just drop me off at the warehouse. I can jog home from there."
He looked towards her with a look of compassion, "Are you sure? I mean, don't you live twenty minutes away from the warehouse by car?"
She looked out the window and starred there for a moment. The sun was shining still and the air was warm and clean feeling. "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me." She replied simply.
"But I do."
"Well, don't."
He opened his mouth to speak again but promptly decided against it. They had only known each other for what? two years? He knew that as soon as she started to snap that something was going that she wasn't letting onto. She was putting the fence around her again and refused to let him in, "You know..if you need me for anything..please..call me. You have my cell number. If you feel like you're falling apart, I want to hear from you. Okay?"
A simple head turn and a smile was the response, "I know. Thank you." But she couldn't ignore the pounding in her heart or the frantic pace in her brain. She knew it wasn't the last she would think about the mission and honestly knew that wasn't the last time that she would ever hear from Marx.
A/N: Okay, I promise, next chapter we go post AND THE BLUEBIRD MAY FALL. So, if you a little foggy about some of the last chapters and stuff, I suggest rereading it. It could get kinda of confusing. Portia will be back and some correlation between Sark, Marx, and Portia will drive a lot. Keep in mind everything that's going with Sydney and the number forty seven (for additional info about 47, check out alias-online.com..they have an awesome page on Rambaldi and the number 47. All of this take place pre THE GETAWAY, so I will make some references to stuff before hand but keep in mind, next chapter, SD-6 is gone and Sloane is dead. Review, tell me what you think and if you know how to put things in BOLD or ITALIC font, please let me know or else my chapter five will be confusing.