Notes: Thanks to all those who reviewed. Means alot.
~
He glimpsed over the scene. So much effort wasted and he supposed many of Irina's loyal followers too, though they had yet to get an exact figure. The air was still damp and overwhelmingly smelt of disinfecting chemicals. Workers were hauling debris of what was only a short time earlier one of the greatest and most powerful inventions known to mankind. He looked up to see another body being carried out. A female, he overheard one of the men say. With the wave of a hand, he stopped them and slowly pulled back the sheet wrapping the body. He quickly turned away from the gruesome sight. Nothing, not even of the lives he had stolen, had prepared him for witnessing her lifeless hazel eyes.
~
As the chauffer opened the limo's door Sydney plopped down onto the expensive leather seat and thanked him with a wide grin. Her companion didn't bother waiting for the same treatment and got in with the graceful motion of someone who had done so many times before. To her confusion, the chauffer himself didn't get in, but settled near a tree, while she and Sark waited in silence.
There was a chill between them—harsh and evident. Sark's coldness was nothing new but this time it was noticeably different. Something was wrong. He was overly silent. Most likely, he hated the idea of working with her just as much as she did, something that surprisingly vexed her. She longed for any comment, even if it was one of his smart ass remarks, which would normally make her blood boil. Sydney hard heartily pushed the feeling away, asking herself why she even cared, which she didn't, of course.
Without thought, Sydney then muttered, "Nice, but I suppose given your 'particular' line of work you could afford the best."
Once the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Not because of any hurt they might cause but because of the implication that she just might care.
"My line of work does allow for the best, and I would say thank you, but it's not mine. Irina does have lovely taste though."
She should have known he'd throw it right back in her face and he had to say it with all the airs of being a gentleman, rather than snap back at her like a normal person would. It made her angry, and then glad that the customary exchange of banter had returned.
"Let's get right down to business," Sark continued with a glint of caution in his eyes. "Though you do possess the sharp tongue of Sydney Bristow, I know you are not her.
"And how's that?" Her voice was composed. She was getting used to events like this.
"Because I saw the dead body of Bristow myself, so you see, you can't be her."
First Vaughn and now him. She knew she needed to play nice to learn what was happening. "Maybe who you saw was the fraud."
"No." His eyes narrowed on her. "The tests said otherwise."
The most absurd idea crossed her mind. That she had been cloned somehow, but that was impossible. The lab was destroyed and besides, it did not explain why she had lived a year in which no one else remembered.
"Why wouldn't my mother have said something if this was true?"
"I'm very fond of Irina. When I saw her daughter lying there dead, I didn't have the heart to tell her."
Maybe it was a form of escape or her just trying to lighten the mood, but she raised an eyebrow and gave him a half roll of the eyes.
"What?" he questioned.
"Heart?"
Sark smirked and raised an eyebrow himself. "Though I must say you are a very good impersonator."
Syd chuckled at the absurdity of being complemented, by Sark of all people, for impersonating herself. Sark found it less amusing and she laughed all the more for it.
"So we find ourselves at a pass. You'll either tell me who you really are or… I'll have to find some other less pleasant method of extracting the information from you."
The smile faded from her face. Suddenly, Sark seemed less charming.
"Irina would have you killed for that."
"Not if you were never around to tell her," Sark threatened, unmoved. "Furthermore, I'll remind you, you are the intruder, not I."
He was both bluffing and being honest in that statement.
They did indeed find themselves at a pass and she needed to make a decision quick. Would he believe the truth? Hell, was he even trustworthy?
He straightened his suit jacket and looked at her with impatience.
Predicting Sark was about to says something she cut him off with, "What if I told you I was unsure why I was here?"
"And what if I told you I didn't believe it?"
"I really don't."
He flashed a frown in her direction. "You must have some idea otherwise you'd not be here nor would you have been in Hong Kong. You didn't just appear out of nowhere."
Somehow, that felt more dead-on than it should have. "Sort of. I really don't know what happened." She shifted nervously. None of her training could help her with this.
He leaned forward, eyes full of skepticism, and whispered, "Though that sounds a tragic tale, I'm afraid it's not good enough."
"I didn't wake up at Irina's establishment but I did wake up in Hong Kong, not having the slightest clue how I got there." She couldn't believe she had said it but she did, and somehow she knew in the end she had little other choice.
Sark was studying her, she could tell, seeing if she gave anything that pointed at being other than she claimed. "Why go to your mother then?"
"It's a long story and you'd think I was insane." Sydney looked away at that last word, not so sure it wasn't true. Unexpectedly, the door opened causing her heart to race in panic. Oh god, she thought instinctively, He's going to kill me. She went to protest but saw Sark had only gotten out to talk to the driver. Little relief she found in this. Till this subject was cleared up, nothing would ease her mind. She had little trust in Sark and for all she knew, Irina's men, from the top down, including this chauffer, were hired thugs.
The driver disappeared down the path when the discussion ended. Meanwhile, Sark paced back and forth speaking on his cell phone. He smiled. Sydney had never seen him do so before and was left imagining who was able to create such an event. A close friend? Perhaps even a lover?
Her contemplation was interrupted as they returned, getting into their appropriate places.
"I presume you wouldn't want to remain here all day, and I'm not about to take you to the house."
"Your willing to hear me out?"
"Let's just say that in the last few years I've seen many unexplainable things, so yes I am." Sark pulled something out of his pocket. "Please, turn around?"
She complied and bit her lip anxiously as Sark's hands gently drew her hair back. She had to admit the sensation was simply electric. Sydney twisted her hands in her lap as he placed the blindfold over her eyes and control became completely his.
"This should alleviate the risk till this matter is solved." The car began to move. "You may as well relax but remember we are both armed."
Nothing like a statement like that to ease a person. She couldn't let him see it affected her so she leaned back into the soft seat.
"That's a girl," Sark praised, his voice condescending yet incredibly sexy. It had to be the accent, she thought, annoyed with herself for even thinking it.
The car ride was silent but her heightened senses picked up the swish of the tires on the pavement and his faint, rhythmic breathing. It was strangely soothing in a time little was.
Few minutes later, the limo stopped and doors opened.
"Should I get out?" Syd was frustrated she didn't know what was happening.
"In a minute, ma'am," the driver called. She heard a set footsteps on gravel coming towards her and another walking away. Just great, Sark was just leaving her there.
As she impatiently groped for the handle, the door opened and he, whoever he may be, took her hand to help her out of the car. "Thank you."
He said nothing but led her on to the building and up the stairs. It had to be the driver. Sark would never treat her so and this man's hands were so strong, soft, and gentle. No, they couldn't be Sark's, and she'd never love the touch of a killer.
He seated her. As he leaned in the remove the blindfold, she caught a hint of a musky fragrance upon him. When her eyes opened, she saw they were in a comfy room and she turned to the man. She saw Sark. They were alone.
She looked around just not to look at him. They were in a small room with light brown walls and a brick fireplace. Pictures lined the wall, more landscapes. It gave the room a feeling of home. A cloth-covered table for two was before her and set for a meal, so she assumed the talk would be over lunch.
Sark seated himself and had no intention of wasting time. "Whatever it is you believe you must say, now's the time to do it."
"You're not the first to claim I was dead. A man, who was in Taipei with me, he said so as well."
"Your CIA handler." Being blunt was an intention as well, she gathered.
"Yes." Another honest admission.
Sark nodded, appreciating her candor but added, "Include the details, it saves time."
"Vaughn also claimed I was missing two years."
"Do you remember anything of those years?"
This was the complicated part, explaining memories she had, which all others lacked. "I don't know how to explain it, but I do remember one of those years. The thing is, no one else recalls what I do."
His mouth was a thin straight line revealing nothing.
She would need to divulge much more if this was going to work out in her favor. "You, Vaughn, you both say I was dead. I remember seeing Vaughn drown, not me." Sydney took a deep breath, trying to kill the shaky sense of hurt in her voice. "I was caught by guards, tied up and after finding out Irina was "The Man," she shot me. I managed to get away though."
Still no reaction.
"My mother, soon after, turned herself into the CIA. Vaughn got sick. He almost died and I saved him by making a deal with you for the counteragent, but you don't remember that, do you?"
"Not in the slightest," Sark uttered, appearing bored. "Still, you can't imagine I'd consider this satisfactory."
"No matter what I say, you'd recollect none of it."
"Convenient."
Sydney sat there in silence, thinking on what to do. She had revealed this much to Sark. Why not her mother?"Can I talk to my mother again? Maybe she'll believe me."
Sark got up. Hovering over her, he leaned into the table, supported by his palms and glared at her with his cold blue eyes. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. Till this matter is resolved, you're going nowhere."
Syd felt vulnerable and threatened. Those eyes could do far more than a simple blindfold could but she would not give in. She had to make the enemy believe in her even if her spy half resisted handing over such info. What did she know that he would know too? Private information, but she had so little. It was worth a try. "When you were young, you were sent to a boarding school in England. It made you…" What had Caplan said in his debrief, "ambitious."
"Your ability to identity an English accent is impressive."
"You like cars… a Mercedes and wines."
"You've read my profile, what there is of it, like any half decent spy would." He removed a gun from his jacket, pointed it at her and continued, "I'm getting tired of these games-"
She could see he was not just playing games and this was no bluff. Nothing left, her mind frantically grasped for any other info that could help stop her inevitable end. "You and my mother want to reveal Rambaldi's secret," Syd rapidly spit out. "You're gathering artifacts to piece together the final mystery. The key to eternal life." Tears came down her face, at the thought of her death. "Please. Il Dire. Il Dire is what they called it."
He pulled a gun away as his eyes unexpectedly sparked with understanding. "Il Dire," he repeated.
Suddenly, something clicked and she asked hopefully, "You've heard of it?"
"Yes… Perhaps talking to your mother is best."
He knew something, just as she had assumed her mother had, and now it was Sydney who wouldn't leave without knowing it all.
"Tell me what it is?" she begged desperately wanting answers.
He looked down sadly, as if questioning what to say. It was like a wrong word would shatter her to pieces."It's rumored… I've heard that Il Dire is just a piece to the quest for eternal life. It's a quantum computer really."
"A time machine?" She couldn't believe it.
"Somewhat. It allows individuals access to parallel universes or so they say."
"And this is what happened to me?"
"It's within reason."
"You believe me?
"Yes."
It explained so much, but left so many questions in her head as well. One was of the utmost importance. "Is there a way back?"
"I suppose." He puckered his lips in thought. "If it existed in one universe, it could in another."
"So I just have to get to Sloane and steal the machine?"
"Far more complicated than that. We don't even know if it has been built and if it has, which universe to will return you back to. There are many things to be factored in. It'll take time."
Time? She burst into tears like a stubborn spoiled child, wanting out of this hell. "I just want to go home. I just want my Vaughn back."
~
Hope it's not a let down. I think one reviewer guessed this is what happened.
~
He glimpsed over the scene. So much effort wasted and he supposed many of Irina's loyal followers too, though they had yet to get an exact figure. The air was still damp and overwhelmingly smelt of disinfecting chemicals. Workers were hauling debris of what was only a short time earlier one of the greatest and most powerful inventions known to mankind. He looked up to see another body being carried out. A female, he overheard one of the men say. With the wave of a hand, he stopped them and slowly pulled back the sheet wrapping the body. He quickly turned away from the gruesome sight. Nothing, not even of the lives he had stolen, had prepared him for witnessing her lifeless hazel eyes.
~
As the chauffer opened the limo's door Sydney plopped down onto the expensive leather seat and thanked him with a wide grin. Her companion didn't bother waiting for the same treatment and got in with the graceful motion of someone who had done so many times before. To her confusion, the chauffer himself didn't get in, but settled near a tree, while she and Sark waited in silence.
There was a chill between them—harsh and evident. Sark's coldness was nothing new but this time it was noticeably different. Something was wrong. He was overly silent. Most likely, he hated the idea of working with her just as much as she did, something that surprisingly vexed her. She longed for any comment, even if it was one of his smart ass remarks, which would normally make her blood boil. Sydney hard heartily pushed the feeling away, asking herself why she even cared, which she didn't, of course.
Without thought, Sydney then muttered, "Nice, but I suppose given your 'particular' line of work you could afford the best."
Once the words left her mouth, she regretted them. Not because of any hurt they might cause but because of the implication that she just might care.
"My line of work does allow for the best, and I would say thank you, but it's not mine. Irina does have lovely taste though."
She should have known he'd throw it right back in her face and he had to say it with all the airs of being a gentleman, rather than snap back at her like a normal person would. It made her angry, and then glad that the customary exchange of banter had returned.
"Let's get right down to business," Sark continued with a glint of caution in his eyes. "Though you do possess the sharp tongue of Sydney Bristow, I know you are not her.
"And how's that?" Her voice was composed. She was getting used to events like this.
"Because I saw the dead body of Bristow myself, so you see, you can't be her."
First Vaughn and now him. She knew she needed to play nice to learn what was happening. "Maybe who you saw was the fraud."
"No." His eyes narrowed on her. "The tests said otherwise."
The most absurd idea crossed her mind. That she had been cloned somehow, but that was impossible. The lab was destroyed and besides, it did not explain why she had lived a year in which no one else remembered.
"Why wouldn't my mother have said something if this was true?"
"I'm very fond of Irina. When I saw her daughter lying there dead, I didn't have the heart to tell her."
Maybe it was a form of escape or her just trying to lighten the mood, but she raised an eyebrow and gave him a half roll of the eyes.
"What?" he questioned.
"Heart?"
Sark smirked and raised an eyebrow himself. "Though I must say you are a very good impersonator."
Syd chuckled at the absurdity of being complemented, by Sark of all people, for impersonating herself. Sark found it less amusing and she laughed all the more for it.
"So we find ourselves at a pass. You'll either tell me who you really are or… I'll have to find some other less pleasant method of extracting the information from you."
The smile faded from her face. Suddenly, Sark seemed less charming.
"Irina would have you killed for that."
"Not if you were never around to tell her," Sark threatened, unmoved. "Furthermore, I'll remind you, you are the intruder, not I."
He was both bluffing and being honest in that statement.
They did indeed find themselves at a pass and she needed to make a decision quick. Would he believe the truth? Hell, was he even trustworthy?
He straightened his suit jacket and looked at her with impatience.
Predicting Sark was about to says something she cut him off with, "What if I told you I was unsure why I was here?"
"And what if I told you I didn't believe it?"
"I really don't."
He flashed a frown in her direction. "You must have some idea otherwise you'd not be here nor would you have been in Hong Kong. You didn't just appear out of nowhere."
Somehow, that felt more dead-on than it should have. "Sort of. I really don't know what happened." She shifted nervously. None of her training could help her with this.
He leaned forward, eyes full of skepticism, and whispered, "Though that sounds a tragic tale, I'm afraid it's not good enough."
"I didn't wake up at Irina's establishment but I did wake up in Hong Kong, not having the slightest clue how I got there." She couldn't believe she had said it but she did, and somehow she knew in the end she had little other choice.
Sark was studying her, she could tell, seeing if she gave anything that pointed at being other than she claimed. "Why go to your mother then?"
"It's a long story and you'd think I was insane." Sydney looked away at that last word, not so sure it wasn't true. Unexpectedly, the door opened causing her heart to race in panic. Oh god, she thought instinctively, He's going to kill me. She went to protest but saw Sark had only gotten out to talk to the driver. Little relief she found in this. Till this subject was cleared up, nothing would ease her mind. She had little trust in Sark and for all she knew, Irina's men, from the top down, including this chauffer, were hired thugs.
The driver disappeared down the path when the discussion ended. Meanwhile, Sark paced back and forth speaking on his cell phone. He smiled. Sydney had never seen him do so before and was left imagining who was able to create such an event. A close friend? Perhaps even a lover?
Her contemplation was interrupted as they returned, getting into their appropriate places.
"I presume you wouldn't want to remain here all day, and I'm not about to take you to the house."
"Your willing to hear me out?"
"Let's just say that in the last few years I've seen many unexplainable things, so yes I am." Sark pulled something out of his pocket. "Please, turn around?"
She complied and bit her lip anxiously as Sark's hands gently drew her hair back. She had to admit the sensation was simply electric. Sydney twisted her hands in her lap as he placed the blindfold over her eyes and control became completely his.
"This should alleviate the risk till this matter is solved." The car began to move. "You may as well relax but remember we are both armed."
Nothing like a statement like that to ease a person. She couldn't let him see it affected her so she leaned back into the soft seat.
"That's a girl," Sark praised, his voice condescending yet incredibly sexy. It had to be the accent, she thought, annoyed with herself for even thinking it.
The car ride was silent but her heightened senses picked up the swish of the tires on the pavement and his faint, rhythmic breathing. It was strangely soothing in a time little was.
Few minutes later, the limo stopped and doors opened.
"Should I get out?" Syd was frustrated she didn't know what was happening.
"In a minute, ma'am," the driver called. She heard a set footsteps on gravel coming towards her and another walking away. Just great, Sark was just leaving her there.
As she impatiently groped for the handle, the door opened and he, whoever he may be, took her hand to help her out of the car. "Thank you."
He said nothing but led her on to the building and up the stairs. It had to be the driver. Sark would never treat her so and this man's hands were so strong, soft, and gentle. No, they couldn't be Sark's, and she'd never love the touch of a killer.
He seated her. As he leaned in the remove the blindfold, she caught a hint of a musky fragrance upon him. When her eyes opened, she saw they were in a comfy room and she turned to the man. She saw Sark. They were alone.
She looked around just not to look at him. They were in a small room with light brown walls and a brick fireplace. Pictures lined the wall, more landscapes. It gave the room a feeling of home. A cloth-covered table for two was before her and set for a meal, so she assumed the talk would be over lunch.
Sark seated himself and had no intention of wasting time. "Whatever it is you believe you must say, now's the time to do it."
"You're not the first to claim I was dead. A man, who was in Taipei with me, he said so as well."
"Your CIA handler." Being blunt was an intention as well, she gathered.
"Yes." Another honest admission.
Sark nodded, appreciating her candor but added, "Include the details, it saves time."
"Vaughn also claimed I was missing two years."
"Do you remember anything of those years?"
This was the complicated part, explaining memories she had, which all others lacked. "I don't know how to explain it, but I do remember one of those years. The thing is, no one else recalls what I do."
His mouth was a thin straight line revealing nothing.
She would need to divulge much more if this was going to work out in her favor. "You, Vaughn, you both say I was dead. I remember seeing Vaughn drown, not me." Sydney took a deep breath, trying to kill the shaky sense of hurt in her voice. "I was caught by guards, tied up and after finding out Irina was "The Man," she shot me. I managed to get away though."
Still no reaction.
"My mother, soon after, turned herself into the CIA. Vaughn got sick. He almost died and I saved him by making a deal with you for the counteragent, but you don't remember that, do you?"
"Not in the slightest," Sark uttered, appearing bored. "Still, you can't imagine I'd consider this satisfactory."
"No matter what I say, you'd recollect none of it."
"Convenient."
Sydney sat there in silence, thinking on what to do. She had revealed this much to Sark. Why not her mother?"Can I talk to my mother again? Maybe she'll believe me."
Sark got up. Hovering over her, he leaned into the table, supported by his palms and glared at her with his cold blue eyes. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. Till this matter is resolved, you're going nowhere."
Syd felt vulnerable and threatened. Those eyes could do far more than a simple blindfold could but she would not give in. She had to make the enemy believe in her even if her spy half resisted handing over such info. What did she know that he would know too? Private information, but she had so little. It was worth a try. "When you were young, you were sent to a boarding school in England. It made you…" What had Caplan said in his debrief, "ambitious."
"Your ability to identity an English accent is impressive."
"You like cars… a Mercedes and wines."
"You've read my profile, what there is of it, like any half decent spy would." He removed a gun from his jacket, pointed it at her and continued, "I'm getting tired of these games-"
She could see he was not just playing games and this was no bluff. Nothing left, her mind frantically grasped for any other info that could help stop her inevitable end. "You and my mother want to reveal Rambaldi's secret," Syd rapidly spit out. "You're gathering artifacts to piece together the final mystery. The key to eternal life." Tears came down her face, at the thought of her death. "Please. Il Dire. Il Dire is what they called it."
He pulled a gun away as his eyes unexpectedly sparked with understanding. "Il Dire," he repeated.
Suddenly, something clicked and she asked hopefully, "You've heard of it?"
"Yes… Perhaps talking to your mother is best."
He knew something, just as she had assumed her mother had, and now it was Sydney who wouldn't leave without knowing it all.
"Tell me what it is?" she begged desperately wanting answers.
He looked down sadly, as if questioning what to say. It was like a wrong word would shatter her to pieces."It's rumored… I've heard that Il Dire is just a piece to the quest for eternal life. It's a quantum computer really."
"A time machine?" She couldn't believe it.
"Somewhat. It allows individuals access to parallel universes or so they say."
"And this is what happened to me?"
"It's within reason."
"You believe me?
"Yes."
It explained so much, but left so many questions in her head as well. One was of the utmost importance. "Is there a way back?"
"I suppose." He puckered his lips in thought. "If it existed in one universe, it could in another."
"So I just have to get to Sloane and steal the machine?"
"Far more complicated than that. We don't even know if it has been built and if it has, which universe to will return you back to. There are many things to be factored in. It'll take time."
Time? She burst into tears like a stubborn spoiled child, wanting out of this hell. "I just want to go home. I just want my Vaughn back."
~
Hope it's not a let down. I think one reviewer guessed this is what happened.