Year 4 – The Flight of Ravens

The heat is going to kill me I think. The air conditioner has broken down and all I can do is lie on the couch, watching mind-numbing TV. Over and over again the images haunt me of the news coverage from when the Tower of London exploded. It happened three months ago, but I can still remember it clear as day. I had been at the Joint Task Force building that day, turning in a report that I had worked on at home. That's what I'm supposed to be doing now; work that it is. They let me do analysis from my home, so that I can spend more time with Christina.

But that day, I had gone in. That day CNN had exploded with the news that the Tower of London had fallen in a flurry of rumble, ash and fire. As we stood spellbound in front of the satellite monitors trying to comprehend this horrible tragedy, there was one thing that I already knew.

Somehow, this involved Sark. It was just too much of a coincidence otherwise and needless to say, I don't believe in coincidences.

We received confirmation three hours later. Sloane and all the members of the Alliance were dead. Including Sark. They had died assembling the final Rambaldi piece within the Tower.

Since then I've asked myself over and over again, how is that possible? He can't be dead. Nothing can kill him. That man has more lives than his cat.

But somehow it seems that it must be true, and the irony of the situation is not lost upon me. The great Tower that got him involved in this life, is the very Tower that ended it.

Ironically enough, the British have a legend, dating back to the time of Charles II. It said that if ever the ravens flew away from Tower, the White Tower would crumble and so would the British Commonwealth.

Well, Britain is still reeling from the shock. The ravens flew and the tower crumbled. And the depth of betrayal is still being uncovered in the British parliament. It seems that Richter wasn't the only high ranking official to betray his country.

But all that seems hollow to me now.

Now I'm empty. Though I had told myself many times not to dare to imagine any sort of future with him, a part of me did nonetheless. 

A part of me dared to hope.

And now I'm paying dearly for that hope.

And so today I lie motionless on my couch, the heat and my depression making me lethargic while Christina plays with some blocks on the floor.

My father stops by to visit me in the afternoon. He plays with his granddaughter for a little while before turning her back over to the nanny so that we can talk.

I ask him if they ever uncovered any intel on the Last Rambaldi Device or any other news regarding the fall of the Tower but he merely shakes his head. But he has my clearance papers for me. I've asked to resign from the CIA and for once Kendall has decided not to be an ass about it.

My father takes a few moments to go over the papers with me, showing me where to sign and indicting which benefits I will still receive. It's boring and tedious but I need to do it. I need to start putting everything behind me and moving on.

Somehow, I need to find a way to move on.

The door bell rings but I ignore it. I'm not in the mood to entertain anyone, so I let the nanny act as my secretary. I think she understands why.

A few minutes later, Anna comes to the door of my study and knocks. "Miss Bristow? There's a Timothy Sharp here to see you."

I look at her peculiarly. I don't know a Timothy Sharp and I don't feel like getting to know one today but already my father is packing up his things, taking away my excuse.

I follow my father out of my study and towards my front door. I see him stop slightly ahead of me blocking my view. Actually I'm thankful for it. Maybe he's dealing with my visitor so I don't have to.

I see my father reach into his suit jacket and I hear the familiar sound of a pistol cocking. I can't help myself but move forward towards my father. I need to understand why there might be blood shed in my new house. Why?

I go around my father, and open the door further.

My father has his gun out and under Sark's chin.

"…If you hurt them, or try to take either of them away from me, I will kill you." My father's voice is low and deadly.

Sark hasn't seen me yet; he's slightly focused on my father's unrelenting face. "Yes sir. But neither of those were my objective, I swear."

My father pushes him away with disgust, before turning to me. He's looking at my face. He's asking me with his eyes, if he should go ahead and finish the job that apparently was left incomplete by the burning tower.

I don't know where I found my voice. I'm in so much shock that I can barely breathe. "It's ok Dad, you can go."

"Sydney I'm not leaving you with this--"

I shake my head. "It's ok Dad. Please. I need to talk to him."

If I was ever unsure if my father knew that Sark was Christina's father, I'm not anymore. Of course he knows. He knew all along. My father always knows everything. I think that's the only reason he agreed to go; but perhaps also the reason why he gave me his gun with the bullet still in the chamber and told me that I was free to use it should the need arise.

My father grudgingly leaves; though I'm sure he's just parked his car a block away and has every intention of checking back up on me.

But that aside, I glance at Sark as he shifts his focus to me. My god, he looks different. But then, I haven't seen him in three years.

He's dressed casually with jeans and a t-shirt, but his pale leather jacket still shows off his expensive tastes. His hair is slightly more messed up than usual, but between the insufferable heat and my father's threats I can hardly blame him.

"Sydney--"

"I thought you were dead."

"You could still arrange that if you liked." He points to the loaded weapon that I'm holding casually in his direction.

I take a long look at the man before me before I unload the gun. He's changed a little but I'm hard pressed to say how. There's the brief look of pain that I see in his eyes, but that's nothing new. He'd hate to know it, but I've seen it before. It's been creeping out of him a little bit at a time. But now, along with his pain, I see a sadness deep in his face and I know he means the next words that he says to me.

"Sydney, I'm sorry."

I don't know what to do. I don't know if I should run to him and hold him in my arms, cry and beat his chest or just scream until my throat is raw but I feel like doing all of them. This moment seems like just too much.

And then I feel a small pair of hands behind my legs and I know that this is it. This is the true moment of truth. I turn slightly so that Christina can't hide behind my legs, and I motion to the nanny, who is in mid stride towards her, to let her be.

I look back to Sark and the expression on his face is worse than if I'd punched him in the stomach. I don't know if his legs just gave out on him or if he wanted to get a better look, but he's kneeling down on the floor next to her, so that he's closer to her height.

He doesn't say anything and he doesn't smile but I can imagine what's going on in his head.

All his life, he has been the destroyer; the avenger. He has taken pride in his ruthlessness and his own brand of justice. Now, for the first time in his life, he sees the beauty and innocence that he is able to produce. And I have no doubt that he feels unworthy and completely shocked that something so pure and good can come from him, because I felt the same way when I first saw her as well.

But she's shy around strangers and so she sticks her finger in her mouth and reaches for me with her other hand. I give her hand a squeeze for a moment and then motion for her to go with the nanny. She's just too young to really understand what's going on.

After she leaves I turn back to the broken man in my doorway. He's still crouched down, staring at the spot she was standing in until he feels me staring at him. He stands and looks at me, and I know now that he will never be the same again. His mask has been shattered. His very soul is exposed to me now.

He makes a move to reach for me and then stops himself, like he's unsure if he's allowed to touch me any longer. I move towards him and embrace him tightly and he wraps me in his arms.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to find you." He whispers into my ear. "But it's over now. It's finally, truly over. I'm out. You were right. Sark is dead. I have my life back now."

"I'm sorry." I say. "I didn't know how to contact you. You never reactivated my watch. I didn't know how to tell you that you'd had a daughter…"

He releases me and steps back. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. He opens it and pulls out a folded picture. The creases in the paper speak volumes of how many times it has been unfolded.

It's the picture I gave my mother two years ago.

And I sit down on the steps of my porch and I lay my head upon my hands. Sark comes and sits beside and I remember that I don't have to do this by myself anymore.

He holds me tightly and whispers gently into my ears. "I'm glad that I don't have to do this by myself anymore."