Month 12 – The Choice

Is it possible for my life to become tiresome? I'm sitting at my desk in the bowels of SD-6, with my foot tapping rhythmically under my chair and for the hundredth time today, I sigh. Dixon looks up at me.

"What's wrong Sydney? You seem restless today."

I look up into my partner's eyes. "Nothing. I guess I'm just feeling blah."

"Isn't Sloane sending you to Argentina with Sark next month?"

I nod. Maybe that's why I am feeling restless, or rather unanchored. I feel like a spring wound a little too tight.

Suddenly Dixon looks down and mutters under his breath. "Speak the devil's name…"

I look up. Sure enough Sark is standing by my desk. "Agent Bristow, do you have a moment? I want to go over the briefing for your trip. I am leaving tomorrow, so I'd like to make sure that we're together on this one before I go."

I nod my head at him, making sure that I pinch my lips together in displeasure. Dixon looks up at me sympathetically, and I roll my eyes.

Sark leads me to his small office. After I walk through the door, he presses the button to close them. He motions with his hand for me to stay silent until he presses a button on his cellular phone lying on his desk.

Then he nods to me.

"Sorry, I just wanted to make sure that our conversation is not the conversation that Security Section will hear."

I smile. It's actually quite ironic that some of the most secure conversations I ever have are all within spitting distance of Arvin Sloane.

"That's ok. How are you?" I haven't seen him since Vienna.

He shrugs and sits down on the edge of his desk. I sit down in the chair across from him. "I should be asking you that, but I have a feeling that you'll just say that you're fine."

"I am."

"I see. So I don't have to maim and kill Mr. Vaughn then."

I shake my head reluctantly. "Though he did make me go and see the shrink."

Sark's lips form a thin line from displeasure. "Were they able to help?"

I shake my head. "She means well, but…" Since I never told her about my nightmares, she couldn't appreciate the fact that they were lessening before the mission in Vienna. The significance that they were back now would have been lost on her as well.

He nods in understanding.

"Can I ask you a question?" I ask tentatively.

"Of course."

"Why did you tell Vaughn to leave the psychiatrist out of it?"

Sark pauses a moment before answering me. "Sydney, you are an incredibly strong woman when you are not listening to the damning opinions of your coworkers. You have an incredible sense of yourself and what you are capable of accomplishing. And because you risk great things, you sometimes suffer great consequences. I know bureaucracy, I know governments and I know doctors. Not only will they try to hold you back when you are doing the dirty work that they demand of you, but then they will tell you I told you so and rub salt into your wounds when you are down. Instead of offering you the strength you need to recover and move on, they question your judgment and revel in the fact that even the great Sydney Bristow can get herself caught in jams. Tell me, did anyone berate you for going up to that hotel room alone?"

I nod. My father. Kendall. Even Vaughn lamented how he shouldn't have let me go.

"Were they surprised that you got captured?"

I nod again. My father thinks that I got sloppy because of my contact with Sark. I think that even Vaughn was a little surprised that his supergirl couldn't get herself out of a jam.

"Sydney, you don't let their skepticism stop you from risking things in the first place so I wouldn't put any more stock into their opinions afterwards."

Sark slides off the desk and goes around to the back of it. He opens a drawer and pulls out a small package. "Here, I want to give you this."

I take the small box from his hand and open it quickly.

Inside is a woman's watch. Cartier. It looks like it is made of silver, but I have a feeling that it is white gold instead. The face is inlaid tastefully with a few diamonds and the style is distinctly feminine, without being delicate.

It is utterly beautiful.

I look up at Sark, and he is smiling at my reaction.

"Here let me help you with it." He takes my left arm and the watch, and he carefully latches it to my wrist.

I hold my hand out and admire it. "Thank-you," I say to him, when I finally find my voice again. "But why?"

Sark takes my hand again and points to a small button on the side of the watch. "If you ever need me for anything, all you need to do is press this button. Your watch is fitted with a miniature Emergency Locator Transmitter that I can pick up with my watch from anywhere around the world. I will receive the signal immediately." He shows me his watch, which also looks like a normal, albeit expensive looking watch.

"Is that all that my watch does?" I ask skeptically. I should have known that I could never receive a normal gift from him.

He shakes his head reluctantly. "It also measures your heart rate and blood pressure at regular intervals and relays that information to me as well."

Figures.

"How very James Bondish. Did Q make this for you? MI6 has better taste than I would have thought."

He smiles wryly. "Not quite. I bought the watch myself, and then I gave it to James with strict instructions for what to put into it. I'm sorry to say that I couldn't work a remote in for your car. I wanted to give you it to you before I left."

I smile. "Thank-you." I say again. "It's beautiful. But it seems a little unfair that you should know my vitals when I don't know yours."

He shrugs good-naturedly.

I stand up and move closer to him. I don't know what I intend to do, but I just feel the need to be closer to him. He stands still and lets me close the distance on my own. I stop inches away from his body.

Now at least I know why I have been feeling restless.

I can feel the heat radiating from him, but he still doesn't move. Our nearness is almost intoxicating. I finally lift my hand and run it along the sleeve of his suit jacket.

He groans softly at my feather touch on his arm, but as my hand reaches his neck he reaches up with his hand and gently pulls mine away.

I look up at him questioningly. I can see the desire in his eyes but his mouth is twisted in pain.

"Not here," he whispers to me. "Not now. Not just yet."

"Why?" I can't help but ask him. "Isn't this what you wanted? For me to come to you?"

He moves to the side, putting some more space between us but his voice is still thick with desire when he speaks.

"Sydney, I don't just want you to want me. I am so beyond needing just that. I need more and so do you."

"I don't understand."

I listen to Sark as he takes a deep breath, as if he is trying to gather his control. It takes him a moment, but he finally looks back up at me. "I need you to come to me completely, Sydney; with no restrictions. I want you to submit to me totally."

This time I am the one to step back. "Why should I be the one to submit?" I ask defensively, trying to hide my fear.

Sark looks at me with a pained expression. "Because I have already submitted to you. You have seen me, though not with your eyes, at my very lowest. You gave me your strength when I was not able to continue on my own. As a result you carry burdens that no person should have to carry alone."

"I'm fine," I answer sharply.

Sark nods as if I have just proven his point.

"Don't patronize me."

"Believe me, I am not."

I turn away, but he grabs my arm and turns me back.

"You had a hard enough time trusting my loyalties; I don't think you are ready to give up your control just yet. That's what I meant when I said you still had a choice to make. You are on your way to making it, but you're not there yet. The next time you come to me, I want you to come with the knowledge that you are ready to give me control over you and yet also with the knowledge and trust that I am strong enough not to let you down. I want you to submit to me and relish in my strength. Or don't. Pick that other man of yours, if he has anything to offer you. But that's your choice. Take me for all that I am, but then give me all that you are in return. I just can't have it half way."

I turn away again. "You're asking too much."

"I can't help it," he answers me. "I love you."

I can't stop myself from spinning back to him. He is looking at me so sincerely. I don't think I have ever seen his eyes so blue.

We stay like that for a second before he leans over his desk and flicks the switch for the doors and they start to open. He has effectively cut off our conversation.

Before I leave, I look back at him for a moment. I notice that his face looks serene. He expected no answer from me, like he expected me to blanch at the choice that he presented me with. His face shows none of the pain that was there before, as if in tribute to the strength that he possess and is offering to me.

He was right though. I can't answer him yet.

As I wander back to my desk, I can't help but feeling like my heart is ripping in two. Part of me wants to run back there to him and beg him to take me in his arms, but another part of me wants to run as far away as possible and hold onto the last vestige of control that I possess.

And as I sit down on my chair, I realize that I am trembling. My eyes wander down to the watch that now sits on my wrist, and suddenly I understand his plan.

I touch the watch, and I can't help but feel a little bit safe. I know that if anything were to happen, I can call upon him at any time. But he has not taken away my control. I don't have to call him if I don't need to. That he can read my heartbeat is proof of that. I can choose not to call him and proceed on my own, even if I don't survive to tell him about it later.

And perhaps it is the knowledge that he really believes in me that much that will sway me to him in the end.

I'm suddenly glad for the month ahead of me, that I can spend alone. I need the time to sort myself out and honestly answer the questions that I have been avoiding.

And maybe find a way to put my nightmares to rest, once and for all.