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: CG, Glenna, Jennifer and Becky for the betas!
Author's Note: Sorry it's been awhile since the last update (2 weeks seems like forever now!). Just had a hell week in school, but college tends to have those rather frequently… comes with the territory, or so I'm told. At any rate, I'm glad I didn't just hastily throw this up before just to have it posted, because it's just gotten much better. Enjoy, let me know what you think, and definitely leave feedback!
Chapter Eight: Faces of LoveThe sun rose on day forty-eight, illuminating a scene that, the day before, he'd never thought he would see. The woman he loved and who never had ceased to amaze him with her capacity for doing the right thing and her insatiable love of life was here. With him. Out of all the choices she could have made, she'd chosen to submit to what she thought was her destiny, their destiny. More than that was the astounding discovery that, despite everything she knew he was and had done, she'd acknowledged she felt the most amazing thing for him—love. That anyone could love him—well, he'd never thought it possible.
And so he lay beside her, refraining from giving in to the impulses to touch her and reinforce that she was real. He shouldn't need that, even though he found he did. Instead, he would take in the wonder of waking up next to her. Even though she faced away from him, he could appreciate the simple beauty of her in his bed, mussed hair spread over the pillow and her bare shoulders, and clouds tinged pink with the rising sun forming the backdrop beyond her. And Ethan contemplated her, this wonderful thing that had happened between them, the one thing he had never dared to think he could possess.
He'd never allowed himself to sleep next to a woman after sex. Since, in the past, the act only served to fulfill a physical need, he'd honestly never felt the urge to continue to spend time with a woman who'd served her purpose. Given his lifestyle, such urges would have only created unnecessary risks for him. Until last night, he'd never had reason to consider otherwise. But with her, he hadn't even thought not to, because, as with everything Sydney, it felt natural.
To be able to hold her, as they'd fallen asleep, to be able to wake next to her, to watch her smile and mumble in her sleep—not only did it change everything, it also made Ethan wonder how he'd ever lived without her.
Sydney woke slowly the next morning, the early morning sunlight bright enough to have filtered past her eyelids into her subconscious. She lay on her stomach, her arms wrapped around the pillow her head rested on and the sheets wound so tightly around her lower body that she had to wriggle loose before she could properly stretch. In the midst of the yawn that suddenly overcame her, fuzzy recollections of events from the night before began to seep into her awareness. Her mouth snapped shut and she propped herself on her elbows, automatically scanning her surroundings for confirmation that it hadn't all been a dream. Evidence came in the foreign surroundings and in the pair of bright blue eyes that her eyes collided with, coupled with a lazy, contented smile she'd never seen before.
She smiled back. "Hey." She combed her fingers through her hair, finally settling her head on her hand as her body curled almost automatically in his direction. Sydney was vaguely aware of the dull but pleasant ache between her thighs, and that she'd just had the best night's sleep in months, maybe years.
"Morning, love." His eyes brightened and his smile grew larger as his fingers reached out and captured a lock of her hair. He absentmindedly played with the curling end as he asked, "Anything on your agenda for today?"
Pointless question really, she thought—she never had an "agenda" anymore. But still… he'd thought to ask, rather than assume, if she wanted to spend the day with him.
"Only if it involves you," she grinned and blew him a kiss. His hands caught hold of her, one on her hip and the other behind her head, threaded through her hair, and she laughed as he tugged her closer. "Guess this means I have a full day ahead of me, hmm?" she sighed happily, and used his shoulder as a pillow, enjoying listening to the heartbeat she had once doubted he had, before she'd discovered how different Ethan was from the persona he projected as Mr. Sark. Sometimes, finding out just how wrong your assumptions were wasn't so bad.
He was quickly becoming addicted to everything about her, about being with her. Life before this time with Sydney had already lost its clarity, a testament to the fact that she'd been his focus for longer than he cared to admit. He dropped a kiss into her hair, smiling when she shifted to look at him.
"This is nice," she confessed. Her signature bright smile emerged when his hand caught hers and their hands settled palm to palm on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath he took.
"Yeah. It is." His throat constricted tightly. He'd never acted in such a way that would merit his earning a woman like Sydney, let alone her love. His life had been lived on a day-to-day basis, looking out for himself only, acting in his best interests. Irina had taught him to view the larger picture, to learn how to operate within it so that he fit into it best. But Sydney, she was teaching him to care, to feel—things he'd thought he was beyond needing or wanting to know.
No longer was it him alone; no, it was him and her, them, that he was beginning to think in terms of. It was a different kind of big picture than he'd previously known, and so much more personal. There was a first time for everything, he supposed.
Love was a funny thing; in many ways, it was easier than trust to achieve. Ethan could only hope that trusting love would be in their favor.
They showered together when they finally managed to rouse themselves from the cocoon of his bed. Her hair now smelled of his shampoo; her skin carried the scent of his soap. Her body felt on fire, tingling and hypersensitive in the wake of the trail his hands forged. She dried him off, and his eyes glowed a bright sapphire blue as he returned the favor. And then, Ethan picked her up and carried her back to his bed.
They took their time making love, and it was slow and tender in comparison to the nearly volatile and hurried coupling the night before. And unlike last night, Sydney no longer simply thought she loved him. She in fact knew and was fully aware that she loved Ethan. They lay afterwards, facing each other and coming off their high together, his arm slung low over her hip and his fingers tracing random patterns in the small of her back, she combing his now dry but messy hair. And she happily whispered, "I love you, Ethan McMillan," a reciprocation to his declaration of love the night before.
It was late in the afternoon before they emerged from the bedroom and headed for the kitchen, their stomachs cramping in hunger. But the bodily satisfaction they felt more than made up for the minor discomfort. The happy, knowing smile Maria gave them as they entered the kitchen laughing and holding hands, let Sydney know that the elderly woman was pleased at the latest turn of events.
So much of her time with Ethan had been spent being at odds with him that Sydney imagined it was of great relief to the four other people on the island that their issues with each other no longer existed. She couldn't blame them, knowing how awkward it must have been for Maria especially, since she was the one most involved in their daily routine. Sydney wouldn't have wanted to bear witness her last nearly seven weeks with Ethan either. So she placed a kiss on Maria's cheek and asked her what was around for them to eat.
Later that night, long after he fell asleep by her side, Sydney lay with her arms once again wrapped around her pillow, her eyes focused on his sleeping face. Ethan looked younger in his slumber, his face reflecting a youthful boyishness that his carefully schooled face hid during waking hours.
Beyond him, a soft rain fell outside, trickling down the glass and out of sight. Sydney was certain that they had only begun their perilous, long journey towards home, knew that some of the rain would never find its way to the ocean. She briefly wondered if she herself would ever find her way to a place she could call home. And she remembered, with a smile, the early morning confrontation thirty-four days prior—standing in the rain, confronting Ethan, learning his name… Separately and together, they'd come so far in such a short time. Or considering their limiting circumstances and the compressed nature the island provided them, maybe the stubbornness in both their natures had them a little behind.
At any rate, Sydney fervently and desperately hoped that this love match, fostered in a sheltered situation and completely against their nature as enemies, would not have the disastrous end all her relationships seemed to have in common. Her life was like the never-ending play where every person she touched suffered a tragic ending. She sighed deeply. For all her literary education, the best analogy she could come up with for her life was to call it a tragedy, but it summed it up rather well.
She frowned as her mind drew disturbing parallels between her life and the famous tale of the star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet. Their warring intelligence organizations were like the Montagues and Capulets, with fights, revenge and death well accounted for. She tried to shake free the unpleasant thought, her gaze once again settling on the man asleep beside her and a soft smile curled the corners of her mouth. No, she refused to be the next Juliet, wouldn't let Ethan be her Romeo, though she could now well imagine not wanting to live without him.
She'd long believed that her life had been cursed from the womb. Every bright spot in her life was somehow snuffed out as trust, love and people died, left or got taken away. All Sydney could hope for was that when Ethan left her—as she knew he eventually would because it was just what people around her did—that she would be spared the accompanying pain. And she could pray that she, just once, could love without becoming too attached. For now, she was going to selfishly hold close what she could.
Her hand crept out from under her pillow and reached for the hand that lay by his shoulder, curling her fingers inside his and smiling as he shifted and reflexively tugged their hands closer to his heart. Slowly, his eyes blinked open. The rain clouds blocked the moonlight that would have let her see what shade of blue they were.
"You're still awake." His voice was deep, heavy with the sleep he'd left behind.
"Couldn't sleep."
He lifted their hands and placed a soft kiss in her palm. "Not for my lack of trying to tire you," he teased, his lips wearing the cocky grin she'd once hated with great passion.
"No," she smiled softly. A deep breath, an exhaled contented sigh. "I was just enjoying watching you sleep."
"Spying on me," he accused, his voice laced with humor.
"I'd plead the 5th, but I doubt that U.S. law would do me much good in the South Pacific."
"Probably not."
"Mmm… That's what I thought." She simultaneously turned to her other side and wiggled backwards so that their bodies spooned together, his arm wrapped around her so that their still joined hands rested near her heart. "Much better," she whispered, smiling when he placed a soft kiss on the tender spot behind her earlobe, his breath warm against her neck as his head settled on the pillow behind hers. Her eyes began to close as sleep finally began to overcome her.
"Sleep tight, love," she distantly heard him whisper, her mind already drifting.
No, she definitely wouldn't become a Juliet, wouldn't let him be her Romeo. Not when she'd fought to escape death so many times, and not when a star-crossed lover's tale meant certain death for both of them. She'd just have to find something else to compare them to.
**********
Sasha Ivanov had spent the past seven weeks impatiently waiting. Usually, his work required him to do more than just sitting around, drumming his fingers. Then again, Irina was normally not one to waste precious resources, her best operative and bodyguards, without some large payoff. Sasha had not been told the details of the operation Sark was performing, but had heard Irina's long-estranged patriotic American daughter mention a Prophecy more than once. No matter. He had been quite assured that his diligence would be well recompensed come the end of this particular job.
He'd waited until he was certain they had gone to bed for the night before he unearthed his carefully hidden cell phone. Because it would never do in this profession to have phone numbers programmed into something easily lost or stolen, he dialed the number he had committed to memory long ago.
"Yes?" she asked, answering his call on the second ring. He briefly wondered where she was, if he was interrupting anything. But she did not sound impatient, so he decided that, if anything, he had her attention.
He wasted no time. "They've become intimate." When dealing with his employer, it was detrimental to be vague. Irina Derevko did not appreciate her time being wasted.
"Right on schedule." Her voice was brisk, but her tone was pleased. "Inform me if there are any changes, Sasha."
"I will."
"I appreciate your calling me. As discussed, you will be well rewarded for this assignment. I know that you were not pleased to receive it. When Sark leaves, so will you. Larry will stay with Sydney. You may relay as much to him." And then there was the click of the phone call being disconnected.
Sasha ended the call and turned the phone off, returning it to its hiding place. Soon, he comforted himself. Soon, he would be back in the world he enjoyed, one where loyalty to the right person gave you everything you ever wanted, and acting without questioning reaped more benefits than one man could enjoy in a lifetime. Yes, Sasha enjoyed his job, enjoyed working for the brilliant woman he called his boss. And, though her daughter was equally intelligent, he found her not nearly as intriguing to watch. But then again, that was why he was here—to be the objective one. His lips curved in a smile. Maybe his being here wasn't such a mystery after all.
Author's Note: One last plea for me to get reviews…. You know I live for those little buggers! Oh yes, and I have one more story recommendation to make:
Bikinis & Towels, by evonness (ff.n storyid=1284101, author ID 361092); trust me, it's an amazing story…. Humor, angst, UST—just Sarkney at the height of it's greatness!