Disclaimer: Hasn't changed.
A/N: Hey. Hope I wasn't too long updating this. Finally my play's over and apart from a few minor set backs (such as one of cast taking 'break-a-leg' a little too literally!) it went really well. And thank God it's over. Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter: Dream Writer 4 Life, Kayar and Tasha. Please keep them coming, 'cause they mean a lot to me. I love to know what you think and your opinions. Thanks as usual to my wonderful beta Dream Writer 4 Life: and, if you haven't already, check out her Alias fic 'Seventeen Again' - you'll be very deprived if you don't read it! Well R&R and ENJOY!!! - Bex
The wooden door opened silently and he entered the room with the tray in his hands. He placed it down on the table and poured himself a glass of wine from the half-empty bottle. She still hadn't looked at him. Her eyes were fixed on the window, totally absorbed in her own world, as she gazed at the snow-covered ground outside. 'Has she even realised I'm here?' He wondered as he took his first sip out of his glass, and then poured a glass for her.
"What wine is it this time?" Sydney asked, her gaze not leaving the window.
"Chateau Bellerive," Sark replied simply. "Life's too sort for bad wine."
"So what's bothering you?" She inquired, but still she didn't look at him.
"What makes you think that something is bothering me?" He demanded.
"Remember, my dear brother, I've been stuck here for 10 years. I've learned a thing or two about your habits. It's only 12:30 and yet you've already drunk half a bottle of wine, which is unusual even for you," She stated.
"It's a Chateau Bellerive," He restated. With a passive glance at his glass he added dryly, "Almost too good not to drink."
"And you're early. You never come here until it's evening, unless our mother has done something to piss you off or you've got something on your mind," She pointed out, then finally turned to look at him. "Care to share?"
He averted his gaze and hid his face behind his wine glass. "There is nothing to share." He could faintly hear her sigh of frustration. Sark imagined that she would go back to staring out the window, but - to his surprise - when he turned around she was picking her glass off the table.
She swirled the liquid around in the glass, smelled and then sipped it like a professional. "Good wine," She agreed. She continued to swirl it absentmindedly as she thought about something. "You drink too much, but I've only seen you drink wine. Don't you drink anything else?"
"I used to drink beer," He informed her, "But only Guinness, none of the American stuff. The Irish knew how to make decent beer. And Kathleen - I've told you about her haven't I?"
"Kathleen O'Rourke, right? The woman who raised you?"
He nodded. "She loved Baileys. Used to let me have some once in a while, usually put a nip of it in my hot chocolate in winter." A tiny smile that was alien to his lips formed on his face as the conversation stirred old memories. "I only had wine on special occasions; half a glass with the Sunday roast, at Christmas and Easter. Also Kathleen used to make mulled wine for when we came back from the carol service on Christmas Eve."
His smile faded and he took a generous swig of the wine. Sydney watched him, curious by the small change to his personality that was so out of character for the person she knew. She paused in thought then decided to try again to break though his armour. "Why don't you call yourself Liam O'Rourke anymore? Why Sark?" She questioned.
He looked hesitant, even unnerved, though he tried his best to disguise it. Sydney knew that if she didn't pursue her question she'd loose any chance she had to understand what had turned him into Sark. "You know everything about my life. I think I deserve to know a bit more about yours."
Sark sat down and ran a hand through his blond hair. He'd never been a very open person; only one person had ever possessed the gift to make him open up. Even the thought of the memories pained him - part of him wanting to open up and release some of the grief. To get everything off his chest and make her understand what made him this way. But that would require letting down defences; something he just couldn't do.
"It's a long story - " He began, but she cut him off.
"I've got plenty of time," She pointed at the barred window. "I'm not going anywhere."
Sighing again, he emptied his glass. He stood up to pour another, but her words made him freeze: "It has something to do with Siobhan doesn't it?"
Sark spun and stared at her. To hear that name always made his heart ache and he couldn't stop the glimmer of pain appearing in his eyes. The same pain that mirrored the one she felt from the year of being separated from her husband and child. She gave him an understanding look. Sydney took his glass from him, filled it up again and handed it back. "Please Liam, I want to understand," She pleaded.
He slumped back down on to the couch and she joined him. "I don't know where to start," He confessed.
"How about at the beginning?" She suggested. "How about with Liam O'Rourke?"
He laughed bitterly; "Liam O'Rourke is dead. His life was just a lie. He died when he was only a few hours old, three weeks before my birth. Irina ditched me on his mother, Kathleen, and she raised me like the son she'd lost. For 15 year I lived his life. I lived a lie. As far as I was concerned, my parents were Kathleen and the late Seamus O'Rourke and Ir - our - Irina was just my aunt."
He looked away, disgraced at the emotions that were filling his voice. Feelings that had been long forgotten and buried. But he'd opened a floodgate now; there was no way he could stop now.
"But I was happy. I loved Kathleen as if she was my mother. She tried to raise me the best she could, giving me a proper Christian upbringing, but I was always an unbeliever. The only reason I ever went to church was because Siobhan O'Brian asked me to. She was the priest's eldest daughter. Father Patrick O'Brian's wife died soon after giving birth to their other daughter, Isabelle, and Kathleen helped the family anyway she could. So I grew up with Siobhan and I fell hopelessly in love with her. And she felt the same way back -"
He broke off and quickly drank some wine. The memories were already stabbing at his tortured soul. He felt Sydney grasp his hand and squeeze it gently. He returned he gesture, grateful for the comfort and strength.
"I was told the truth about Irina on my 15th birthday. I was - I felt too many emotions to describe it. Kathleen begged me to keep it a secret, but I told Siobhan. And she understood perfectly. Irina ordered that I was to start my training, and when I turned 18, she insisted that I study at Oxford University. I didn't want to leave my home, but I had no choice. So I proposed to Siobhan and we promised that we'd marry on my return. Neither her father nor our mother was happy about it. Our mother because she doesn't own a heart and Father Patrick because - well I never really knew if he would have disliked me more if I was a Catholic rather then the atheist I am. But then -" Sark sighed and looked down at the floor. He didn't want to remember the memory that was the reason behind his torment.
"But what?" Sydney pressed, desperate to make him finish. "What happened?"
"I went to England, where I was trained whilst I studied. I hated it. I used to constantly write to Siobhan and Kathleen, and they would reply as quickly as they could. But in my final year the letters ceased to come. Then on the day before my graduation I finally received a letter. It was from Siobhan, calling off the engagement and announcing that she was to marry someone else." Rage and sorrow filled his voice as he relived the moment that devastated him inside his head.
"Irina ordered me to go with her and not back to Ireland after my graduation, but I had to go back. I had to know what happened. I had to fight for Siobhan. But I arrived back to find that everything had changed. Irina had faked my death and stopped my letters from reaching home, making everyone believe I had died in a car crash a year ago. Kathleen had died - some said of a broken heart - and to the world so had Liam O'Rourke. The good person Siobhan had made me had been killed by Irina and in his place was Mr. Sark."
"What happened to Siobhan?" Sydney asked gently, feeling her heart swell with pity for her brother.
"Last I heard, her father had arranged for her to marry a man called Dermot Finnegan. I knew him. He was in love with her as well, and I guess it comforted me slightly to know that he would take good care of her and give her the normal life she deserved." But even though he said these words, he didn't sound able to even convince himself, let alone Sydney.
She stared at her brother, for the first time seeing him in new light. For the first time being able to start to understand him. And one thought that ran though her mind explained the reason why he'd opened up perfectly: 'He really must be drunk.'
"I don't think that Liam O'Rourke is as dead as you claim," His sister stated. Sark looked up at her in confusion. "When you talk about what you used to be like - your old life with Siobhan and even Kate - I see him. I see his caring heart and kind soul," She explained. "He's not dead, just trapped."
"Either way he's gone," Sark muttered in reply and walked away.
"So what, you're just going to let Irina destroy Kate's life like she did yours and mine?" She snapped. "Let her rob Kate of the ones she loves and Kate's child as well?"
His jaw tightened. She'd hit a nerve and she knew it. "If you care as much for Kate as you claim you do, you'll help me," She added.
"Help you do what?"
Sydney looked him directly in the eye. Somehow, she'd managed to remove the mask only Siobhan had ever succeeded to do. He was her only chance and he knew it. "Escape."
"There's no point," He stated vacantly.
"There is one when there's a chance," She retorted but he continued towards the door. "Liam, if you're not going to do this for me or Kate then do it for Siobhan." He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Please Liam, do it for her."
A/N: Well what do you think? Paths will be colliding soon (that's all I'm giving away!) So if you want to find out what happens next, you're just gonna have to review. So hit that button NOW! :o)
A/N: Hey. Hope I wasn't too long updating this. Finally my play's over and apart from a few minor set backs (such as one of cast taking 'break-a-leg' a little too literally!) it went really well. And thank God it's over. Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter: Dream Writer 4 Life, Kayar and Tasha. Please keep them coming, 'cause they mean a lot to me. I love to know what you think and your opinions. Thanks as usual to my wonderful beta Dream Writer 4 Life: and, if you haven't already, check out her Alias fic 'Seventeen Again' - you'll be very deprived if you don't read it! Well R&R and ENJOY!!! - Bex
The wooden door opened silently and he entered the room with the tray in his hands. He placed it down on the table and poured himself a glass of wine from the half-empty bottle. She still hadn't looked at him. Her eyes were fixed on the window, totally absorbed in her own world, as she gazed at the snow-covered ground outside. 'Has she even realised I'm here?' He wondered as he took his first sip out of his glass, and then poured a glass for her.
"What wine is it this time?" Sydney asked, her gaze not leaving the window.
"Chateau Bellerive," Sark replied simply. "Life's too sort for bad wine."
"So what's bothering you?" She inquired, but still she didn't look at him.
"What makes you think that something is bothering me?" He demanded.
"Remember, my dear brother, I've been stuck here for 10 years. I've learned a thing or two about your habits. It's only 12:30 and yet you've already drunk half a bottle of wine, which is unusual even for you," She stated.
"It's a Chateau Bellerive," He restated. With a passive glance at his glass he added dryly, "Almost too good not to drink."
"And you're early. You never come here until it's evening, unless our mother has done something to piss you off or you've got something on your mind," She pointed out, then finally turned to look at him. "Care to share?"
He averted his gaze and hid his face behind his wine glass. "There is nothing to share." He could faintly hear her sigh of frustration. Sark imagined that she would go back to staring out the window, but - to his surprise - when he turned around she was picking her glass off the table.
She swirled the liquid around in the glass, smelled and then sipped it like a professional. "Good wine," She agreed. She continued to swirl it absentmindedly as she thought about something. "You drink too much, but I've only seen you drink wine. Don't you drink anything else?"
"I used to drink beer," He informed her, "But only Guinness, none of the American stuff. The Irish knew how to make decent beer. And Kathleen - I've told you about her haven't I?"
"Kathleen O'Rourke, right? The woman who raised you?"
He nodded. "She loved Baileys. Used to let me have some once in a while, usually put a nip of it in my hot chocolate in winter." A tiny smile that was alien to his lips formed on his face as the conversation stirred old memories. "I only had wine on special occasions; half a glass with the Sunday roast, at Christmas and Easter. Also Kathleen used to make mulled wine for when we came back from the carol service on Christmas Eve."
His smile faded and he took a generous swig of the wine. Sydney watched him, curious by the small change to his personality that was so out of character for the person she knew. She paused in thought then decided to try again to break though his armour. "Why don't you call yourself Liam O'Rourke anymore? Why Sark?" She questioned.
He looked hesitant, even unnerved, though he tried his best to disguise it. Sydney knew that if she didn't pursue her question she'd loose any chance she had to understand what had turned him into Sark. "You know everything about my life. I think I deserve to know a bit more about yours."
Sark sat down and ran a hand through his blond hair. He'd never been a very open person; only one person had ever possessed the gift to make him open up. Even the thought of the memories pained him - part of him wanting to open up and release some of the grief. To get everything off his chest and make her understand what made him this way. But that would require letting down defences; something he just couldn't do.
"It's a long story - " He began, but she cut him off.
"I've got plenty of time," She pointed at the barred window. "I'm not going anywhere."
Sighing again, he emptied his glass. He stood up to pour another, but her words made him freeze: "It has something to do with Siobhan doesn't it?"
Sark spun and stared at her. To hear that name always made his heart ache and he couldn't stop the glimmer of pain appearing in his eyes. The same pain that mirrored the one she felt from the year of being separated from her husband and child. She gave him an understanding look. Sydney took his glass from him, filled it up again and handed it back. "Please Liam, I want to understand," She pleaded.
He slumped back down on to the couch and she joined him. "I don't know where to start," He confessed.
"How about at the beginning?" She suggested. "How about with Liam O'Rourke?"
He laughed bitterly; "Liam O'Rourke is dead. His life was just a lie. He died when he was only a few hours old, three weeks before my birth. Irina ditched me on his mother, Kathleen, and she raised me like the son she'd lost. For 15 year I lived his life. I lived a lie. As far as I was concerned, my parents were Kathleen and the late Seamus O'Rourke and Ir - our - Irina was just my aunt."
He looked away, disgraced at the emotions that were filling his voice. Feelings that had been long forgotten and buried. But he'd opened a floodgate now; there was no way he could stop now.
"But I was happy. I loved Kathleen as if she was my mother. She tried to raise me the best she could, giving me a proper Christian upbringing, but I was always an unbeliever. The only reason I ever went to church was because Siobhan O'Brian asked me to. She was the priest's eldest daughter. Father Patrick O'Brian's wife died soon after giving birth to their other daughter, Isabelle, and Kathleen helped the family anyway she could. So I grew up with Siobhan and I fell hopelessly in love with her. And she felt the same way back -"
He broke off and quickly drank some wine. The memories were already stabbing at his tortured soul. He felt Sydney grasp his hand and squeeze it gently. He returned he gesture, grateful for the comfort and strength.
"I was told the truth about Irina on my 15th birthday. I was - I felt too many emotions to describe it. Kathleen begged me to keep it a secret, but I told Siobhan. And she understood perfectly. Irina ordered that I was to start my training, and when I turned 18, she insisted that I study at Oxford University. I didn't want to leave my home, but I had no choice. So I proposed to Siobhan and we promised that we'd marry on my return. Neither her father nor our mother was happy about it. Our mother because she doesn't own a heart and Father Patrick because - well I never really knew if he would have disliked me more if I was a Catholic rather then the atheist I am. But then -" Sark sighed and looked down at the floor. He didn't want to remember the memory that was the reason behind his torment.
"But what?" Sydney pressed, desperate to make him finish. "What happened?"
"I went to England, where I was trained whilst I studied. I hated it. I used to constantly write to Siobhan and Kathleen, and they would reply as quickly as they could. But in my final year the letters ceased to come. Then on the day before my graduation I finally received a letter. It was from Siobhan, calling off the engagement and announcing that she was to marry someone else." Rage and sorrow filled his voice as he relived the moment that devastated him inside his head.
"Irina ordered me to go with her and not back to Ireland after my graduation, but I had to go back. I had to know what happened. I had to fight for Siobhan. But I arrived back to find that everything had changed. Irina had faked my death and stopped my letters from reaching home, making everyone believe I had died in a car crash a year ago. Kathleen had died - some said of a broken heart - and to the world so had Liam O'Rourke. The good person Siobhan had made me had been killed by Irina and in his place was Mr. Sark."
"What happened to Siobhan?" Sydney asked gently, feeling her heart swell with pity for her brother.
"Last I heard, her father had arranged for her to marry a man called Dermot Finnegan. I knew him. He was in love with her as well, and I guess it comforted me slightly to know that he would take good care of her and give her the normal life she deserved." But even though he said these words, he didn't sound able to even convince himself, let alone Sydney.
She stared at her brother, for the first time seeing him in new light. For the first time being able to start to understand him. And one thought that ran though her mind explained the reason why he'd opened up perfectly: 'He really must be drunk.'
"I don't think that Liam O'Rourke is as dead as you claim," His sister stated. Sark looked up at her in confusion. "When you talk about what you used to be like - your old life with Siobhan and even Kate - I see him. I see his caring heart and kind soul," She explained. "He's not dead, just trapped."
"Either way he's gone," Sark muttered in reply and walked away.
"So what, you're just going to let Irina destroy Kate's life like she did yours and mine?" She snapped. "Let her rob Kate of the ones she loves and Kate's child as well?"
His jaw tightened. She'd hit a nerve and she knew it. "If you care as much for Kate as you claim you do, you'll help me," She added.
"Help you do what?"
Sydney looked him directly in the eye. Somehow, she'd managed to remove the mask only Siobhan had ever succeeded to do. He was her only chance and he knew it. "Escape."
"There's no point," He stated vacantly.
"There is one when there's a chance," She retorted but he continued towards the door. "Liam, if you're not going to do this for me or Kate then do it for Siobhan." He stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her. "Please Liam, do it for her."
A/N: Well what do you think? Paths will be colliding soon (that's all I'm giving away!) So if you want to find out what happens next, you're just gonna have to review. So hit that button NOW! :o)