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: carmensandiego (Glenna) and CG (Nicole) for the betas!
Author's Note: *buries face and hands and moans in apology* I'm so very very VERY sorry, guys, that it's been so long since I've updated. Life, well… it's life. After Spring semester's finals, I moved home for the summer. Had a helluva time trying to find a summer job (which I never did find. Wound up just working for a bunch of temp employment agencies). And between all the general craziness of life and being at home again, writing kinda took a back seat. Whenever I had time, I lacked inspiration, and vice versus. Anyhow, it's done… All 8 pages of it. A frickin' monstrosity this story turned out to be… I see maybe another 3 chapter into this story, and here's the kicker… I have another plot bunny for yet another story in the series. Wanna kill me yet? Hee… I know I wanna kill my bunnies… they won't leave me alone and stop planting fic ideas in my head!
Read. Review. Enjoy!
WARNING: RATED R CHAPTER. YOU HAVE BEEN FOREWARNED
On the morning of day ninety-four, she had left Ethan to shower alone and headed towards her room to do the same. Despite the intimate nature of their relationship, she'd kept her room as a kind of security blanket. It made her feel safe to know she had a place to go if she needed to, a space that was just hers… she also knew he was well aware of what she was doing and why, knew that he understood more than most people cared to admit.
She'd been halfway between the doors of their bedrooms when the first wave of nausea sent her scurrying towards her bathroom, her hand clamped to her mouth. She spent twenty minutes dry heaving over the toilet. It was the final confirmation that she'd needed, and now knew without a doubt that she was pregnant. She'd missed her second period three days ago, and had spent more time napping as her normal routine wore her out.
She cried, curling her legs in and wrapping her arms around them, leaning against the cool marble of the bathtub. Sobs were muffled against her left knee, her teeth burying painfully in the tender skin, serving to remind her that it was all very real. She hadn't wanted this, not so soon. Not when it meant her fragile existence was now thrown into a perilous position of uncertainty once again.
As soon as he stepped through his doorway into the hallway, a faint sound sent chills up his spine. He moved quickly, his senses heightened and his heart racing. It was only when he'd entered Sydney's room that he as able to identify the sound—she was crying. He skidded to a stop outside of the bathroom as his eyes encountered the sight of her curled against the bathtub and sobbing. He watched her rock back and forth, her face barely visible behind a curtain of hair. And he knew. He'd been watching her for close to a month now, had seen her agitation and worry, and knew exactly what was on her mind. It hadn't been far from his mind either—he knew what pregnancy meant for them. He'd been too susceptible to the passion that powered them to worry about losing her; now he knew it should have been the first thing on his mind now that he had her.
"Sydney," he started softly, moving to crouch next to her. His hand reached tentatively, pulling her hair back so he could see her face. The tears streamed out of red eyes, her cheeks puffy with the tears and her lips trembling with every sob. The sight tore at his gut. "Come here," he whispered tightly, pulling her into his arms and carrying her out of the bathroom. Her arms wound tightly around his neck, pulling him down with her as he set her on the bed. Finally, her gaze met his for a few painful seconds before skittering away as she turned away from him and curled into a ball in the middle of the bed.
Sighing, wanting to help but not knowing how to reach her through the suffocating emotions wound around her, he settled behind her, draping an arm over her waist. His fingers were drawn like magnets to her lower stomach. Burying his face into the curve of her neck, he breathed in the scent that was uniquely Sydney. The fingers of his right hand combed soothingly through her hair, and, slowly but surely, her crying slowed to a few occasional sniffles. His mind sifted through the barrage of thoughts charging their way into his brain, but one thing and one thing only stood out to him—they were having a baby. It was the true culmination of their time together, prophesied, yes, but more profound because of the love each had found for the other.
He'd thought that maybe she'd drifted off to sleep; she was so quiet, her breathing slow and measured. He couldn't be sure how long they'd lain there like they had—time had no hold over him when she was near. Suddenly her left hand reached down to intertwine with his, letting him know she was very much awake. "Ethan?" she asked, her voice quiet, trembling, and unsure.
His lips tickled against her skin as he answered. "I'm here, love," he reassured her, tightening his hold on her hand and hoped she wouldn't say anything to ruin this moment—this perfect moment where it was just them and their love and what it had created. He slowly exhaled the deep breath he'd been holding, and she actually giggled.
"That tickles," she protested, and he smiled against her neck.
"Sydney?" She twisted and turned until she faced him.
"Yeah?"
"We're having a baby." He couldn't keep the smile from coming and growing so large it threatened to crack his face. Her own eyes softened as she was drawn into the moment with him, though the smile on her face didn't reach her eyes nor alleviate the emotion that rested there.
"Yeah. We are." Her head dropped onto his arm and her eyes closed, as much to avoid further discussion as to allow the sleep she needed after her emotional outbreak to finally respite her tired body. He dropped a kiss on her forehead and extracted his arm from under her head.
He had a phone call to make, much though the thought rankled him. For the safety of everyone involved, he had to play the game the way the rules had been written. The lives he and Sydney had chosen, or maybe that had chosen them, was dangerous enough under normal circumstances. But now, more than their lives were at stake. And for once, he was going to put someone else before himself, even if it meant leaving the love of his life behind.
**********
Irina, of course, had been inordinately pleased to receive the unexpected phone call from him. She'd immediately made plans to extract him from the island later that day. He refused to give in to his desire to ask her to hold off until the helicopter next made a food drop—he didn't want her to have the pleasure of knowing just how hard this was going to be for him.
**********
Ethan had returned to her room and sat by her side, watching her as she slept, and knowing it would be the last time he would allow himself the pleasure. When sight no longer satisfied him, he bent over and kissed her lips gently, slowly increasing the pressure until his kiss woke her. She returned it, smiling lazily up at him after he broke it off.
"Hey," she whispered. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
He placed his right index finger over her lips to silence her. Eyes solely concentrating on her mouth, his thumb began to outline the curve of her upper lip until he couldn't refrain from kissing her again. He was pleased when she opened her mouth and deepened the kiss.
"Trust me," he whispered as his lips broke from hers to leave a trail of kisses down her throat, "my motivations are purely selfish."
She moaned, and he didn't know if it was in agreement with his words or response to his tongue lingering at the fascinating hollow at the base of her throat. Her hands reaching for him and threading tightly through his hair was definitely a positive indication that he should continue his careful ministrations.
His hands settled on her hips, slipping under the cotton tank of her pajama set that she still wore. Since he knew this would be their last time together in a long while, if ever again, Ethan was determined to make it all about her. The guttural sounds she continued to make encouraged his actions as his hands slowly stroked across her skin as they became reacquainted with all that they knew intimately and well.
At an agonizingly slow pace, he removed their clothing, tossing them over his shoulder onto the floor. Her shirt followed by his, her shorts followed by his, and her underwear followed by his. By the time the final barrier between them was removed, Sydney's skin was hypersensitive to his touch and his skin burned where her fingers gripped and slid, her nails scratching across his back.
He kissed her lips, nibbling on her bottom lip, moaning as she dragged her nails down his spine. "Sydney," he gasped. She took the opportunity to slip her tongue into his mouth, catching him off guard.
He almost forgot his intentions to take this time slow, especially when she broke the kiss. "Now, Ethan. Now," she pleaded, tilting her hips into his as she tangled her fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. Who would he ever be to deny her what she wanted or deserved?
His lips pressed against her collarbone, he did as she asked. Her sharp intake of breath whispered in his ear, urging him on, harder, better, more. Sheer will forced him to hold himself back until the tension in her muscles gave way to her orgasm. He spiraled into oblivion with her, refusing to allow himself any thoughts beyond this moment with her.
"Why is it," her murmured into her hair as he rolled off of her, "that I can never seem to get enough of you?"
"Mmm… I dunno. I seem to suffer the same dilemma myself," she confessed with a wry grin, curling into his embrace and resting her head next to his on the pillow. The pads of her fingers softly began stroking the inside of the wrist of his arm that lay between them.
Thoughts raced through her mind, finally settling on one. A few deep breaths later, she finally mustered the courage to ask "Ethan?"
"What?" came the soft reply.
"What's wrong?" A hesitation. "Why—" He turned his head to look at her. She swallowed. "Why does this feel like goodbye?" she whispered, not prepared for the look in his eyes when his gaze met hers. Angry. Torrential. Frustrated. Upset. Bare. Naked. The blue was darker than she'd ever seen color his eyes, and she'd seen them darkened by an array of primal emotions before—frustration, anger… desire. But she'd never seen them this dangerous. Never seen this color.
"Because it is goodbye, Sydney. I'm leaving as soon as the helicopter arrives."
"No," she whispered chokingly in denial, half sitting and inching backwards. His words had her stiffening, her breath coming in short, noisy gasps. Another agonized cry of denial escaped her lips before she could clamp her palm to her mouth to silence the following hiccupping sob. He sat up and thwarted her attempt to stand by clamping his hand around her wrist and pulling her close against him, knowing she was too shocked to fight him off.
"Hey." His hand tucked loose ribbons of hair behind her ears so that he could have an unobstructed view of her face. The face that was a myriad of emotions, the same ones that still churned through his veins. But he was too self-controlling to let anyone, even her, fully see them. Ethan gently grasped her chin and tried to pull her face towards him, but Sydney caught him unaware, violently jerking her face away and twisting out from under his grasp. "Sydney!" he called after her, his feet unfortunately tangling in the sheets so that all he heard was the resounding slam of the bathroom door, followed by the click of the lock.
Sighing, Ethan propped his hands on the doorframe and hung his head in defeat. Hearing her sobbing through the door, he closed his eyes and let his forehead touch the door. He could feel time slow as he allowed his heart to ache for her, knowing that she would bear the brunt of the forthcoming events. Minutes passed, and eventually her noisy sobs turned to soft crying. "Sydney. Sweetheart. Open the door. Please." Nothing.
"Syd—I don't want to leave. Not like this."
The lock clicked as she moved it back and the door slowly opened. "Then don't go," she begged before throwing herself at him and winding her arms around his neck. "I don't think I can do this without you."
"You have to, Sydney." He leaned back, forced her head up so he could meet her eyes. "If not for yourself, do it for me. For the baby. Just don't give up." He knew, if nothing else, that he had to make a point of telling her that. When she didn't respond, his hands wrapped around her upper arms and pushed her away. "Promise me, Sydney. Promise that you'll do this. Promise you won't give up."
Biting her lower lip, she finally nodded and whispered softly, "I promise."
"Good." And then, because she appeared on the verge of collapse, he led her to her bed and tucked her naked body amongst the sheets. He lay behind her, feeling a sense of déjà vu from earlier that morning as he wrapped his arm around her waist.
"I love you," she told him, her tired eyes locked on his as her hand reaching up to caress his jaw.
And because he couldn't refrain from responding, though he knew it would hurt her to hear the words only to have them followed by him leaving her, he said, "I love you too."
Once again, she fell asleep and he untangled himself from her. He turned at the door, and allowed his gaze to linger on her sleeping form one last time. And then he closed the door softly behind him, returning to his room to pack.
The time for being Ethan was over. He had to resurrect the dormant, unfeeling part of himself. He would allow himself one last gesture as Ethan, a few gifts he would leave behind for her to find when she had the courage to confront the memories they'd made together.
**********
The bedside clock's growing green numerals informed Sydney that it was mid-afternoon. She instinctively knew that Ethan was no longer lying behind her, but her eyes searched the room anyway. She also knew he wouldn't have left without telling her goodbye, so Sydney took her time crawling out of her bed and finding clothing in her drawers that she slowly tugged on.
She was in the bathroom brushing her teeth when she caught sight of her red eyes and puffy skin. The sight startled her so much that her hand stilled its movement. She leaned closer to the mirror so she could study her reflection better. Those were her eyes looking back at her; she knew that, but she didn't recognize herself in them anymore. Somewhere between the hundreds of disguises, the constant search for a cause worth fighting for, and the betrayals that ripped her apart time and time again, Sydney had lost track of herself.
And now, this body she had refined into a fine-tuned tool would be instrumental in bringing another life into the world. The irony did not escape her. She couldn't laugh with joy at the thought of being pregnant, much though she'd always longed exactly for this. And yet, she refused to cry that it had gone from a notion to a reality. She had the forthcoming seven and a half months to cry.
After all, wasn't this betrayal of her own body just the latest in a long line of betrayals? Did one more even matter anymore?
Slowly, she moved away from the mirror and resumed brushing her teeth. If she couldn't change the fact that she was pregnant, then she would take to heart the only motherly duty it seemed her mother would allow her. She would care for and nourish her body and her child as well. It was more than her own mother could claim at the moment.
It was late afternoon by the time he was done with his list of tasks. Everything he wanted to take was packed in a single suitcase and sitting at the head of the path that led to the helipad. More importantly, strategically placed boxes, identically wrapped, had been hidden throughout the house. Some he knew it would take her longer to find than others, but she had a long, lonely, unexciting stay on the island ahead of her. Other gifts he had entrusted to Maria to be given at her discretion. Her eyes had twinkled happily at him as she'd taken the gifts from him, flashing him a mischievous smile. Ethan wasn't quite sure why it mattered so much to him that the forethought in procuring the gifts had earned him the approval of a household servant.
Maria had told him that she'd seen Sydney head for the beach after she'd eaten a late lunch, so Ethan headed that way knowing he could simultaneously keep an eye out for the arrival of the helicopter. He chose to not acknowledge Sasha, who sat cross-armed and stiff next to the luggage.
He found her on the hammock, exactly where he knew he'd find her.
The eyes she lifted towards him were marred with a pained resignation of her fate. "No chance I could convince you to take me with you, is there?" And then her lips twisted into a wry half-smile that told him she already knew the answer and was coming to terms with it.
"Always have to cover all your bases, don't you?" he asked, smiling.
"Can you blame me?"
"Not in the least, love. You're a spy. It's how your mind was trained to think, after all. Can't blame you for that."
"Just my mind, huh? Gonna still blame me for everything else then?" She was grinning now, the teasing banter relaxing the palpable tension between them.
"But of course, Sydney darling. You're the woman around here. Everything's your fault."
She laughed, the sound music to his aching heart. "You horrible, opinionated, anti-feminist, pompous bastard!" she giggled. "What would your mother have to say about you?" She grabbed his hand and tugged him into the hammock with her, shifting until he sat behind her and her head was pillowed in the crook of his neck.
"Well," he whispered in her ear conspiratorially, "we'll never know for sure what my mother would say. But I'm sure she'd probably grab hold of my ear, haul me into a dark corner, and give me a good thrashing for that and then some."
Sydney chuckled at that. "Oh, you deserve that and so much more."
"Probably so," he agreed, letting silence fall between them. The sky began shifting colors as the end of the day neared.
There were things she wanted to say, things she wanted him to say. But Sydney preferred the silence and the comfort of spending their moments like this, wrapped in each other's arms. She supposed it went back to the old adage that actions spoke louder than words.
Then again, couldn't that be applied to his leaving as well? Was his pending departure the result of loyalty as it was to Irina Derevko, or that his love for Sydney and his desire to protect her outweighed his need to be with her? Somehow, she was sure that it wasn't completely one or the other, but rather a combination of factors too complex to be teased apart and analyzed easily. In the end, it was just easier to accept and hold on to what she knew and try not to look too hard into the unknown.
The crash of the surf soothed her anxieties. Shifting, she laced her fingers through his and their arms wrapped around her comfortingly. She sighed, not happily and not out of satisfaction, but nor was it a sigh of annoyance or unhappiness. She just felt… like the moment existed for what it was and that it was nothing more.
When he spoke, his mouth was so close to her ear that his lips brushed her ear lobe and the disruption of air caused an involuntary shiver to overcome her. "This is really happening, isn't it?"
It was a question voiced with a sincerity that tugged at her heart. She didn't ask what specifically he referred to, because all of it—their falling more in love every day, the baby, his leaving—was happening. So she answered instead—"If I told you no, would you stay?" Her teasingly hopeful tone belied how she felt, but it earned her a pleasing low chuckle in her ear.
"You're relentless."
"What's does my persistence earn me, then?"
"My heart, of course, love." His head bent forward and she felt his nose nuzzling her neck and she giggled.
"My what a big reward… giving me something I'd already had."
He mumbled something indistinguishable, and, if possible, pulled her closer into his embrace. At that moment, Sydney became aware of a distant sound. Looking to the west, the direction the helicopter always came from, she saw the familiar dot far in the distance.
"Ethan. They're here," she informed him softly, her throat closing as reality settled in further. His only response was to lower their joined hands over her lower stomach, above the miracle their love had created. She knew without looking that his gaze was fastened on the quickly approaching helicopter too.
Afraid that if she didn't make a move now that she never would be able to let him go, Sydney mustered all her courage to break free of his embrace and move to the side. "You should go." The sound of the helicopter was loud enough to be heard distinctly.
His eyes fastened on hers, he too climbed out of the hammock, reaching for her hands to help her out as well. Her knees were weak and she stood in front of him unsteadily, her hands fisted in his suit jacket. His hands cupped her elbows for extra support while his bright blue eyes searched hers—what for, she wasn't sure.
The wind began to stir as the helicopter reached and hovered over the island, slowly sinking out of her peripheral vision. Pieces of her hair escaped her ponytail to whip around her face.
"You won't be back, will you?"
He shook his head. "No. Too dangerous."
She nodded, biting her bottom lip to keep her cry of agony from escaping. His hands released her elbows in favor of wrapping around her and hugging her tight.
In her right ear she heard, "I love you."
Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks, she replied, "I know." She pulled back enough to open her eyes and stare into his eyes as she desperately told him, "I love you, too."
Ethan leaned forward, his lips covering hers one final time. She could taste her tears, salty and metallic. "Take care of yourself, Sydney," he told her, one hand moving to tuck her hair behind her ears.
She whispered, "Okay," but it was lost to the wind as he released her and distanced them by taking a step back. He began to turn away, but she cried his name desperately and his movement halted. "Be careful."
"I will." The last thing she saw was the trademark smirk he flashed at her as he walked away. Her knees finally gave and she collapsed in the sand, sobbing into her hands.
Ethan didn't look back, because he knew that if he did he wouldn't be able to leave her. And he had to.
A path through the underbrush led him to the helicopter where an impatient Sasha glowered at him for prolonging his visit to the island. Knowing that Sasha had brought his suitcase, Ethan chose to ignore the man.
From his seat, Ethan watched as the island disappeared from his vision so that water and the setting sun were all he could see for miles in every direction.
It was ironic how the time of his departure would be at sunset. The sun was setting on day, dropping from view much the way his heart sank more the further he was distanced from Sydney.
No longer would he allow himself to enjoy his former favorite part of the day the way he had allowed himself to do on the island. This day would forever change how he viewed every sunset from now until his death.
Today, the sun would set on Ethan. Tomorrow it would rise on Sark.
AN: One final plea for reviews! Please? With a cherry on top? Does it help if I tell you I've already got a full 2 pages for chapter 11? Yeah, I thought it might… *wink*