Story: Once Upon A Time
Author: Steph, aka Fanatic482 (stephanie406@att.net)
Disclaimer: Alias and the characters of the show aren't mine. They belong to JJ Abrams, ABC, Bad Robot Productions, etc etc
Rating: PG-13 overall, individual chapters that are R will be marked as such
Spoilers/Summary: Sequel to "Beyond All Limits"; General Season 1 Spoilers; Sydney and Sark on a private island with one Prophecy goal to fulfill
Distribution: Cover Me, Sarkgasm, Dark Enigma yes; all other please ask first
Thanks To: Glenna, Jennifer and Becky for the betas!
Author's Note:
This
Chapter
IS
Rated
R
Okay, that's my disclaimer. Read on, leave the reviews; maybe I'll have chapter 8 ready for you in the near future if I'm inspired by lovely reviews *grin* Okay, so that's a lie, but the reviews are nice. Chapter 8 has been started, so no worries. Hee
Chapter Seven: Tired of Fighting
A weary Jack Bristow answered his ringing cell phone without bothering to check the caller ID. The voice of Irina Derevko on the other end had him sitting up ramrod straight in his bed within seconds.
"Hello, Jack," her sultry voice greeted him. "Are you ready to give up following me yet?"
"Not while you still have Sydney," he retorted.
"Jack," she sighed. "Stop being so pig-headedly stubborn for a moment and think about this objectively. You know me well enough to know that you'll never be able to track me down. And even if you did, do you honestly think I'd let you have Sydney back before she'd done her part to fulfill the Prophecy?"
"Why do you insist on living your life to bring that madman's works to fruition anyways?" he asked disgruntled, by now knowing quite well that pursuing Irina was, in fact, proving rather hopeless.
"My reasons are my own, Jack." The line fell silent for a moment. "She's fine, you know. He's taking remarkable care of her."
"Why should I even believe you Irina? Little of what you've ever told me was said in good faith."
"Because, in my own way, I do love my daughter. We aren't like most parents, Jack. We don't tend to express our love in normal ways, for Sydney, or anything for that matter." He didn't bother to reply, for she was, once again, right. "Jack?" He grunted in reply. "While our marriage may have been fabricated for reasons unknown to you at the time, there were times when it was real for me as well." And then there was the click of her disconnecting.
He sat for a moment, stunned at her uncharacteristic admission, ending the call only when his phone began to beep at him. For the life of him, he'd never be able to predict that woman's behavior.
Maybe that was why, twenty years later, he still wasn't able to let go of the notion that Laura was only a false front of Irina.
**********
It was the forty-seventh day since Sydney had been forwarded to an undisclosed location from Egypt, and Michael Vaughn was no fool. In the grand world of Rambaldi, and knowing that Sydney had been swept up into it, he knew it was a day of significance. For forty-seven days, he'd lost himself in hopes that she'd be able to escape and make it home.
But now they landmark day had arrived, and she was nowhere to be seen.
He dropped his signed papers off at Devlin's office, accepting a transfer to Langley. He was going home to finish packing, and tomorrow he'd be on a plane across the country, leaving behind everything that was related to SD-6, the Alliance, and Sydney Bristow.
He was going to try and move on with his life. He'd failed at doing his job to protect his asset and the woman he loved. It was time he accepted it, and entered a new phase in his life—one without Sydney, one without having served revenge to the woman who'd ruined his life in more ways than one. Some things, no matter how hard and long you fought for them, would just never be yours.
**********
Every emotion he'd heard about and never personally known had come to pay him a visit. He hated himself for having a weakness, for becoming vulnerable enough to form an attachment to a woman who was merely an assignment. Although, knowing his boss, she'd probably intended everything to happen just the way that it had, had fed what had become an obsession. For as long as he'd known Irina, he'd known her daughter in some form or fashion.
In that one moment six nights ago, everything he'd known had changed. He'd allowed his weakness to break past the carefully fashioned walls. And the small measure of happiness he'd come to know in his entire life had disappeared in one burst of emotion. Ethan had lost control of himself, something he couldn't recall ever doing—there had never been anything to provoke his emotions enough that he would have experienced loss of self-control.
He'd been tired of hiding what he'd been quite surprised to discover—that Sydney Bristow had brought him alive, made him feel things he'd never felt before, made him love. But one moment of reckless passion and thoughtlessness, and he felt he'd lost all chances with the woman who'd changed him forever.
**********
For six days, Sydney had avoided Ethan if at all possible. It wasn't like the previous week when she'd been angry with him. No, this was a protective avoidance. Being around him reminded her of what he'd said, which invariably reminded her of her own revelations.
She was still trying to come to grips with those.
But after six whole days, she was sick and tired of trying to understand those feelings. Despite his being the enemy, despite what she'd seen him do in his line of work, despite the fact that Irina had been the mother figure to him that she'd never been for Sydney, despite the damn Prophecy and everything it entailed, she liked him, truly liked him as a person.
Which still scared the shit out of her. But she'd come to accept it for what it was, come to acknowledge that the skipped heart beats and sharp breaths she took when she saw him was more than a mere reaction to being startled. Especially when she was becoming quite adept at sensing his presence before she saw him. Now, she finally understood that day on the beach, when he'd known she was there without any proof to the contrary.
So here she stood, standing outside his door on day forty-seven. Sydney damned well knew what day it was, and it seemed rather fitting. She'd never been inside his room, and it was the only one in the house that she hadn't searched thoroughly upon arrival. Even then, she'd respected the need for privacy enough not to invade upon his. She raised her hand, noticing the slight trembling in her fingers as she curled them and rapped on his door. She wiped the clammy palm down the sides of her shorts, unknowingly holding her breath. The door opened, and he stood silently on the other side looking at her.
"Hi." She gave him a smile, hoping she didn't appear as nervous as she felt. "Can we talk?" she asked hesitantly.
He opened the door further and she walked brushed past him into the room. Unlike hers, his was an actual suite. She sat down on the couch. Ethan's silence and his refusal to sit were beginning to unsettle her. Fine, so he wasn't going to make this any easier for her. She could deal with that. She hoped.
"About the other night…" she started, then trailed off when he met her eyes. "I'm sorry. It's just that, well, you caught me by surprise and—"
"And you were horrified at even the thought of being attracted to me like that." He sounded bitter, biting, lost. He turned away, staring out his balcony doors.
"No!" she protested, horrified that she'd let it progress this far. She stood and began walking towards him. "Not at all. I just—it scared me to admit that you were right." Ethan turned around, faced her, his eyes probing her to test her words as truth.
"Was I, now?" he asked, a sardonic half smile on his face. His hand lifted, looking like it was coming to tuck her hair behind her ear. He must have changed his mind because he shoved it in his pocket and moved out of her reach. "You know, Sydney, sometimes the world just can't revolve around just you. You're not the only one who's had to live like this—alone, lonely, pained. I spent so much of my life with my emotions turned off, denying anyone and anything that might remind me that I have a soul." He uncapped a bottle of liquor, pouring himself a generous glass and drank it. She moved closer, not allowing herself to let him push her away. Not like she'd done.
Sydney gently pulled the glass out of his hand and set it back on the bar, finally daring to meet his eyes. She almost cried out at what she saw there—emotion so deep and pained that it hurt her to witness, knowing she'd played a part in causing it. His eyes were bloodshot, and she began to wonder just how much he'd had to drink. "Ethan—" she choked out. He pressed a finger to her mouth, halting further words.
"I've spent my whole life with it just being me, Sydney. Spent half of it becoming and being who I am today. Twenty-four lonely years, Sydney. Irina was more a mentor and teacher than anything, and though we shared some affection, it was always her stories about you that caught my interest." He paused, moving away from her, back to staring out the window. "She cares about you, you know, in the only way she can. She kept tabs on you over the years, and in turn, I did too. You were the only reminder either of us had of our humanity, the only thing that kept things in some sort of perspective."
Sydney collapsed onto the couch with a barely caught sob. "Stop," she pleaded. She feared that she'd hurt him more than she'd thought possible.
"Why? So you could just leave behind everything you don't want to confront? So you can continue to deny that a world exists outside yourself? So you don't have to see that people really do count on you? So that you can go back to an unchanged world and proceed with life just like before?" His eyes were ablaze in fury, and though she could read them, she could not meet them.
A lone tear rolled down her cheek. She'd hurt him, and now he was trying to do the same. "No," she protested softly. She looked up to find him standing next to her. Her eyes met his. "Because I care about you. Because I'm your friend. And… because I think I'm in love with you, Ethan. That's why."
Her words had the intended sobering affect on him, and he slowly sank next to her, a stunned look on his face. She bit her lip uncertainly, wishing she knew what he was thinking.
"Ethan?" His finger once again placed itself on her lips.
"Did you mean it?" She nodded. His thumbs came up and wiped away the remains of her tears. And then, as if he doubted her presence, "Are you real?"
A relieved laugh broke free. "Yes," she smiled. "I'm real. You're real. This is real."
And then, he was kissing her. It was everything she'd hoped and knew it would be. Passionate. Tender. Emotional. Soft. Deep. Hard. Full. Heart and soul poured out on both sides, sliding past one another, blending until they were one. She could taste the liquor as his tongue dived inside her mouth, tangling with her tongue, trying to possess her. Her hands cupped his face, sliding back to sink into his hair. One hand was already possessively buried in her hair, his other trying to pull her as close as they physically could be. Her body hummed, her heart sang, and her mind sighed "Finally."
He pulled back, his hand freeing from her hair to caress her cheek, his thumb softly tracing her bottom lip. She lifted herself from the fog, opening her eyes to see his face alive, truly alive for the first time since their dance six days before. "You won't regret this?"
"I won't."
He studied her. "You're sure?"
"Yes." She smiled, her fingers trying to smooth away the concerned wrinkles on his forehead. She moved to straddle his lap, lacing her fingers with his. "I'm very, very sure about this. About you." She dropped a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm tired of fighting it, Ethan. I want you."
He needed nothing more, as his lips capturing hers once more as his hands possessively slid from her waist up inside her shirt. She moaned her encouragement, fingers wrapping around the curls at the base of his neck. Desperation and passion had her clinging to him, clutching his shirt in her fists.
"Bed would be nice," she managed, as his lips left her mouth and kissed their way down her neck, finding an obstruction in her shirt. And then he was standing, holding her close as her feet slid to the floor, making short order of her shirt. Clothes were scattered in a trail as they made their way towards his bedroom.
"We should take this slow," he whispered into her hair as he guided her onto his bed. Undergarments were all that remained. He sat back, wanting to take it all in, to memorize this image of Sydney in his bed, her hair scattered hazardously across the unmade sheets.
"You do," she teased in a warning tone, and then he was flipped under her, "and your death will be slow and tortured." He buried his hands in her hair, drawing her down for a kiss he was distracted from when her hips twisted suggestively against his. "I wasn't kidding," she breathed, and finally her mouth was on his and her tongue diving inside.
The last scraps of clothing were removed as he rolled her under him again. His hands moved over her, taking in the feel of her bare skin, committing everything about this moment to memory. She was exquisite, and she was all his.
"I love you, Sydney Bristow," he whispered as he slid inside of her. Hot. Wet. Home.
It was fast, passionate, driven, more perfect than he'd imagined it could be, and over before he wanted it to be. But as he drew her into his arms and drifted towards sleep, Ethan McMillan was the most at peace with himself that he'd ever been in his whole life.
Author's Note: Only cuz I love you people so much are you getting your second chapter within a week's time. *grin* Well, that and a great many of you were sweet enough to click that little purple review button. T'was all the encouragement I needed. That said, review review review!
Recommendations: Okay, so here are my recs for Sarkney stories authored by some great people. Of course, I love the stories so much that I'm gonna send you their way (you better too! They're great stories that deserve more reviews and attention than I believe they're getting)
"Circle" by carmensandiego www .fanfiction. net/read.php?storyid=1120570
The series by CG (you can find them off her profile, ff.n user ID 259212; start with "Unexpected Prospect")
The Sarkgasm Round Robin Fic (www .sarkgasm. com); "Reflection" is the completed Sarkney fic, written by the girls of the Sarkgasm Harem
Okay, enough plugs for the night. And plenty of reading to keep you guys busy!
Remember… Hit that review button!!!!!!!!