Notes:Sarklover and scifichick774: Thank you so much to for the feedback.
~
Lunch came and Sydney refused to eat. She had forced him to tell her how long he thought it would take for her steal the machine, acquire the information and get back. Years, Sark had guessed. It would take years.
She wanted to scream. Yet another slap to the face, to add to her already brimming collection. She demanded to be taken to the house and Sark replied by doing so. She was angry though, and intended to make things as difficult as possible for Sark. More than likely, whatever happened to send her to this hell was his fault.
"We're here," Sark said as they arrived at the house and glanced at her as if anticipating some form of response.
He was looking at her again and she hated it. Why did his eyes also have to be on her? It had not even been a day and she could barely stand it anymore. [I] I'll give him something to stare at, [/I] Sydney furiously thought, getting out of the limo and slamming the door. Her life was anguish and she meant to show it. She moped her way up the drive and into the house, noting the lavish surroundings but not caring much for them at the moment. As they ascended the main stairway, her feet dragged and Sark took her arm to help her along but she shrugged him off.
"What the hell gives you the right to touch me?" Sydney snapped.
"I was assisting."
"Don't. I don't want someone like you helping me."
"I see you've taken your mother's advice about letting things go." His voice was laced with sarcasm.
"It's kind of hard, you know, you tried to kill my boyfriend."
He gave a disgusted expression. "I'm sure I had a perfectly good reason for doing so."
"Yeah, you're evil."
With a frustrated sign, Sark scornfully countered, "Well, tell him I'm sorry next time you see him."
At his words, Sydney started to choke up. There would be no next time and if there were, it would not be the same. Tears began rolling down her face and Sark remained motionless as she leaned into the banister, doing her best to calm herself.
"You hate me that much?" Sark softly murmured with a laugh.
Sydney took and few deep breaths and began climbing the stairs again. As they reached the top, she turned to him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For trying to take my mind off him and place it back on you."
"I was doing nothing of the sort," he grunted.
"You're right." She shook her head. "I have no idea why I thought such a thing. That is just why I hate you, Sark. You're an unfeeling cold killer, who gets off on torturing people.
"And you thought I was trying to help," Sark smirked. "I was just trying to rile you up."
"And you do that so well." She bitterly smiled as they reached a room.
"This is where you'll be staying."
Sark twisted the doorknob, revealing a small bedroom with the palest yellow walls and an old wooden canopy bed with similarly colored sheets, only a shade or two lighter. A dresser, vanity, nightstand and barred window completed the room.
"Lovely view."
"Yes it is." Sark walked over as if pleased with the sight. It was awhile before he spoke any further. "So what other unforgivable sins have I committed?"
"You really want to know?"
"Yes. Though I have not committed the same crimes as the self of your world, I would like to know what I'm up against."
"You killed more people, innocent people, than most would imagine a living being could."
"If that's your problem with me, then you'll hate me here too." She gave him a dirty look and he grimly went on, "Part of the life and nothing you haven't done yourself."
He was right, but Sydney had no interest in admitting so. "You ruined Will's life. You kidnapped and tortured him." She peered at him, wanting to see regret.
There was none. He was staring out the window, distant and detached. "The reporter, yes, I did that here as well."
"And I'm sure you're behind Francie's death too."
Inquisitively, he glanced over and asked, "You mean you don't even know and you're blaming me for it?"
"It has to be you and Sloane."
Any comment he was going to make, was interrupted by a young woman, maybe 21 or 22 years old, entering the room.
"Aleksandra." Sark smiled, second time Sydney had seen him do so, and strolled over to the woman.
"Sir, I was told you requested my presence." The Russian, clearly a maid given the uniform, gave Syd a brief glance and a nervous smile to Sark.
"That I did. You're to care for Ms. Bristow here." Their eyes said more, something they both understood but Sydney could only speculate at.
"Yes sir." She spoke with a perfectly polite, obliging attitude. So different than the banter her and Sark shared.
Sydney smirked as her mind jumped to conclusions. Sark was doing the maid. The smirk was suddenly replaced with a tinge of jealously as she gave the woman a good look. It was abnormal for her to be jealous, but Aleksandra was also abnormally beautifully. Her dark hair and angelic eyes stood out against the flawless and fair complexion she possessed.
"I don't need her caring for me." The words left her mouth before she realized she was speaking. "Or anyone else," she continued, trying to cover up her insane dislike of someone she had just met.
Sark whispered something in Aleksandra's ear and with a bow of the head, she left.
"Good. I really don't need all this pampering you and my mother seem so fond of."
An amused gleam came to his eyes and he bite his lip with the tilt of his head. "That's a pity, particularly since she was about to drag all the clothing your mother ordered for you up here, but if you'd like to do it-"
Syd threw him a 'back off' expression.
"Maybe not." Seeing that Syd was in no mood, he sat next to her on the bed's edge and continued right were he left off before Aleksandra had interrupted. "Sydney, I believe I did all those things. I don't feign decency as most. I openly admit to lying, cheating and killing my way to where I am now and I do it by choice."
"I always assumed so."
"And here you are right by my side." As if to prove his point, Sark tapped her leg and leaned towards her, his face somewhat smug and taunting. "You're here knowing what I am and what your mother is yet you made the choice, just as I did, to ally yourself with Irina."
She hated the truth of that statement. "I have my reasons."
"We all have reasons, some good and some not."
He got up and headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Lunch. For some reason, I haven't had any today. And then home." He lingered in the doorway as if deciding to add something before leaving. He did. "You have a few hours and then will be having dinner with your mother tonight. I suggest telling her at that time."
"Wait!"
Sark peeked back in.
Sydney was not used to asking for things. She demanded it and it was often given or not. It made what she was about to request all the more difficult and she couldn't believe she was asking Sark, of all people. "I don't want to tell her myself, please do it with me."
"I'd love to do it with you, but I believe your mother would be less than pleased."
"She'll live."
"Hmmm yes. I'll see what I can do. In exchange, you won't give Aleksandra a difficult time.
"Fine."
~
Sydney was restless. Looking over the room had taken little time so she was grateful when Aleksandra, along with a few others in line, came into the room holding packages of clothing. They had insisted on putting the items away themselves but Syd insisted even more so they didn't. Sorting through it would give her something to do till the dinner.
The packages consumed the king sized bed and part of the floor. It was a ridiculous amount and Sydney couldn't help but laugh at it all. Either Irina was making up for lost years of mother-daughter shopping sprees or she was overly generous. What's more, she didn't know when she would get the opportunity to wear half of these outfits. Irina's taste, if she was even the one to pick the outfits out, was classy yet expensive. At this rate, Sydney would end up like the peacock Sark was. She had began to fear they were all of the same variety but was relieved to find a few bags of her normal attire.
Syd arranged each item till nothing was left but her new personal effects. New. Her old ones, Syd reflected, were most likely long gone with everything else she had. This realization was upsetting. All those irreplaceable items she gathered over the years, gone. Photos of her youth, of Will and Francie. The engagement ring from Danny she hid away and looked at in private moments of remembrance. Even Vaughn hadn't changed that. Vaughn, that old picture frame he had given her that Christmas when things seemed bad but really were easy compared to what to come. All missing, all gone and she would never see them again. That is, unless she got back to her world, what to her was the real world, instead of this fake one she was now captive in.
Not wanting to think of it any more, she heaped the objects of her new beginning on the vanity. She'd deal with it later. The dinner was at eight and she needed to take a shower before then.
~
When she got out, she noticed the room was in the process of being disturbed. Clothing was lying out on the bed and Aleksandra was over by the vanity putting her things away.
"What's this?" Syd walked over to her boldly for someone wearing nothing more than a towel.
"I picked out something for this evening."
"I can pick out my own clothing." Syd placed her hand over Aleksandra's, which was determined to disturb another one of her items. "And as I said before, I can put my own belongings away."
"Alright, Ma'am."
"I also told you to call me Sydney before," Sydney grumbled and plopped herself down into the vanity's chair.
Syd stared into the mirror, looking more at Aleksandra than herself. Syd expected her to go away like she had the last two times. She didn't. A meek smile overcame the maid's face as she timidly picked up the silver brush at Syd's elbow and gave a stroke down Sydney's hair.
"Stop it." She turned around, taking the brush from the woman. "I'll comb my own hair.
"Sorry, Ma'am… Sydney. I'm just doing my job."
"I'm surprised you didn't try to bathe me too," she jeered. Aleksandra appeared distressed so Sydney softened somewhat. "I'll take care of myself. You can go."
Syd waited for the door to close and started where the maid had left off, yanking the knots out with some overpriced brush. She hated how her hair always tangled more when wet.
No one since her mother had brushed her hair. After her 'death', the nanny had taught her to be self reliant, to do it herself. That had been for the better, Syd mused. It made her what she was today. Her mother evidently, lived a pampered life if her maid's were required to perform such tasks. Sydney had no intention of allowing someone to take over doing what she had for twenty-two years.
As she finished, Syd returned the brush to the rest of its set. It was than she noticed the picture frame. It bothered her more than it should, its emptiness. Won't be needing that, Syd fumed as she tossed it into a drawer, ruining the order Aleksandra had created.
She went to the bed. What had been laid out for her was fancy but not bad. She would have worn something of its like, if she had been going out to a nice restaurant. Irina, she assumed, enjoyed dining in style. Something told Syd if she dared to go downstairs wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt, she'd feel incredibly out of place all night. Best just to take Aleksandra's 'advice'.
Not long after she donned the light blue skirt and silk blouse, a knock at her door indicated it was time. Another event that hadn't taken place in twenty-two years, would be taking place tonight. She would be sitting down to a meal with her mother. Unlike most family dinners though, the conversation would be of jumping universes, Rambaldi, and prophecies. Her life would never be normal, she feared.
~
"Hello Sydney," Irina kissed her cheek. Her mother was the semblance of elegance all in black and her hair carefully pulled back and arranged to frame her face. She resembled nothing of the prison uniform clad Irina she had grown to know in the CIA cell. Sydney supposed this was the true Irina she never had seen.
"Where's Sark?"
Irina quirked an eyebrow. "Getting attached so soon?"
"No," Syd chuckled, "It's just… he said he might be here."
"I had thought after all these years, we might spend some time alone, but he had said you requested his presence."
Syd blushed with embarrassment. It looked as if like she was afraid to spend time alone with her. "I… I just thought it would be easier this way." She wasn't lying though Irina did not know what tonight's topic would be.
"He'll be here," she stated while seating herself.
Sydney did the same and as if on cue, Sark entered, wearing all black; suit, tie, everything, just like Irina. He acknowledged her no more than a nod of the head while Irina received a warm smile.
Syd took to opportunity of silence to take in her surroundings. Her mother sure knew how to live, she thought again. The dinning room was intimate yet just as her mother, it was the essence of elegance.
The first course was just as quiet and upon it's disappearance, Irina finally broke the ice.
"Did your day go well?" The question had been aimed at Sark, not her.
"Reasonably."
"Good. Sydney behaved?" Irina smiled at her daughter. Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "Do you believe the partnership will be successful?"
"We got along splendidly," Sydney snapped, annoyed at being talked around.
Irina looked at Sark as if to confirm.
"As she said." Sark's smirk along with his slightly rumpled hair, gave him that mischievous school boy appearance.
Feeling like their source of mockery, she yearned to slump down into her chair and hide. She was such an outsider to their amusement.
"What did you spend your day doing?"
Sark remained quiet as if the question wasn't addressed to him. It took a few seconds for her to comprehend it in fact wasn't.
"We talked." That about summed up her day, death threats and all. "Thank you for the clothing," she added, realizing she had never acknowledged receiving them.
Irina's eyes lit up. "Do you like them?"
"They're wonderful." Syd smiled back, feeling awkward but happy at the simplicity of the conversation, at just talking to her mother.
"I had hoped you would. If there's anything you don't like, just let me know."
"No, it's all fine. You thought of everything I could possibly need."
The satisfaction Irina projected, filled Sydney as well. It was then, Sydney knew she would not be telling her tonight. "Did your day go well?"
~
"What was that?" Sark stormed after her after Irina had excused herself for the evening.
Syd understood what he meant, but said nothing.
"I gave my whole evening up so you could tell her, and not a word."
"I couldn't… not tonight," she said, her voice apologetic.
She knew, he understood as well. She couldn't destroy something she had never dreamt would happen.
"Good night, Sydney."
"Night, Sark."
It had been an interesting day and start to her new life.
~
Lunch came and Sydney refused to eat. She had forced him to tell her how long he thought it would take for her steal the machine, acquire the information and get back. Years, Sark had guessed. It would take years.
She wanted to scream. Yet another slap to the face, to add to her already brimming collection. She demanded to be taken to the house and Sark replied by doing so. She was angry though, and intended to make things as difficult as possible for Sark. More than likely, whatever happened to send her to this hell was his fault.
"We're here," Sark said as they arrived at the house and glanced at her as if anticipating some form of response.
He was looking at her again and she hated it. Why did his eyes also have to be on her? It had not even been a day and she could barely stand it anymore. [I] I'll give him something to stare at, [/I] Sydney furiously thought, getting out of the limo and slamming the door. Her life was anguish and she meant to show it. She moped her way up the drive and into the house, noting the lavish surroundings but not caring much for them at the moment. As they ascended the main stairway, her feet dragged and Sark took her arm to help her along but she shrugged him off.
"What the hell gives you the right to touch me?" Sydney snapped.
"I was assisting."
"Don't. I don't want someone like you helping me."
"I see you've taken your mother's advice about letting things go." His voice was laced with sarcasm.
"It's kind of hard, you know, you tried to kill my boyfriend."
He gave a disgusted expression. "I'm sure I had a perfectly good reason for doing so."
"Yeah, you're evil."
With a frustrated sign, Sark scornfully countered, "Well, tell him I'm sorry next time you see him."
At his words, Sydney started to choke up. There would be no next time and if there were, it would not be the same. Tears began rolling down her face and Sark remained motionless as she leaned into the banister, doing her best to calm herself.
"You hate me that much?" Sark softly murmured with a laugh.
Sydney took and few deep breaths and began climbing the stairs again. As they reached the top, she turned to him. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For trying to take my mind off him and place it back on you."
"I was doing nothing of the sort," he grunted.
"You're right." She shook her head. "I have no idea why I thought such a thing. That is just why I hate you, Sark. You're an unfeeling cold killer, who gets off on torturing people.
"And you thought I was trying to help," Sark smirked. "I was just trying to rile you up."
"And you do that so well." She bitterly smiled as they reached a room.
"This is where you'll be staying."
Sark twisted the doorknob, revealing a small bedroom with the palest yellow walls and an old wooden canopy bed with similarly colored sheets, only a shade or two lighter. A dresser, vanity, nightstand and barred window completed the room.
"Lovely view."
"Yes it is." Sark walked over as if pleased with the sight. It was awhile before he spoke any further. "So what other unforgivable sins have I committed?"
"You really want to know?"
"Yes. Though I have not committed the same crimes as the self of your world, I would like to know what I'm up against."
"You killed more people, innocent people, than most would imagine a living being could."
"If that's your problem with me, then you'll hate me here too." She gave him a dirty look and he grimly went on, "Part of the life and nothing you haven't done yourself."
He was right, but Sydney had no interest in admitting so. "You ruined Will's life. You kidnapped and tortured him." She peered at him, wanting to see regret.
There was none. He was staring out the window, distant and detached. "The reporter, yes, I did that here as well."
"And I'm sure you're behind Francie's death too."
Inquisitively, he glanced over and asked, "You mean you don't even know and you're blaming me for it?"
"It has to be you and Sloane."
Any comment he was going to make, was interrupted by a young woman, maybe 21 or 22 years old, entering the room.
"Aleksandra." Sark smiled, second time Sydney had seen him do so, and strolled over to the woman.
"Sir, I was told you requested my presence." The Russian, clearly a maid given the uniform, gave Syd a brief glance and a nervous smile to Sark.
"That I did. You're to care for Ms. Bristow here." Their eyes said more, something they both understood but Sydney could only speculate at.
"Yes sir." She spoke with a perfectly polite, obliging attitude. So different than the banter her and Sark shared.
Sydney smirked as her mind jumped to conclusions. Sark was doing the maid. The smirk was suddenly replaced with a tinge of jealously as she gave the woman a good look. It was abnormal for her to be jealous, but Aleksandra was also abnormally beautifully. Her dark hair and angelic eyes stood out against the flawless and fair complexion she possessed.
"I don't need her caring for me." The words left her mouth before she realized she was speaking. "Or anyone else," she continued, trying to cover up her insane dislike of someone she had just met.
Sark whispered something in Aleksandra's ear and with a bow of the head, she left.
"Good. I really don't need all this pampering you and my mother seem so fond of."
An amused gleam came to his eyes and he bite his lip with the tilt of his head. "That's a pity, particularly since she was about to drag all the clothing your mother ordered for you up here, but if you'd like to do it-"
Syd threw him a 'back off' expression.
"Maybe not." Seeing that Syd was in no mood, he sat next to her on the bed's edge and continued right were he left off before Aleksandra had interrupted. "Sydney, I believe I did all those things. I don't feign decency as most. I openly admit to lying, cheating and killing my way to where I am now and I do it by choice."
"I always assumed so."
"And here you are right by my side." As if to prove his point, Sark tapped her leg and leaned towards her, his face somewhat smug and taunting. "You're here knowing what I am and what your mother is yet you made the choice, just as I did, to ally yourself with Irina."
She hated the truth of that statement. "I have my reasons."
"We all have reasons, some good and some not."
He got up and headed towards the door.
"Where are you going?"
"Lunch. For some reason, I haven't had any today. And then home." He lingered in the doorway as if deciding to add something before leaving. He did. "You have a few hours and then will be having dinner with your mother tonight. I suggest telling her at that time."
"Wait!"
Sark peeked back in.
Sydney was not used to asking for things. She demanded it and it was often given or not. It made what she was about to request all the more difficult and she couldn't believe she was asking Sark, of all people. "I don't want to tell her myself, please do it with me."
"I'd love to do it with you, but I believe your mother would be less than pleased."
"She'll live."
"Hmmm yes. I'll see what I can do. In exchange, you won't give Aleksandra a difficult time.
"Fine."
~
Sydney was restless. Looking over the room had taken little time so she was grateful when Aleksandra, along with a few others in line, came into the room holding packages of clothing. They had insisted on putting the items away themselves but Syd insisted even more so they didn't. Sorting through it would give her something to do till the dinner.
The packages consumed the king sized bed and part of the floor. It was a ridiculous amount and Sydney couldn't help but laugh at it all. Either Irina was making up for lost years of mother-daughter shopping sprees or she was overly generous. What's more, she didn't know when she would get the opportunity to wear half of these outfits. Irina's taste, if she was even the one to pick the outfits out, was classy yet expensive. At this rate, Sydney would end up like the peacock Sark was. She had began to fear they were all of the same variety but was relieved to find a few bags of her normal attire.
Syd arranged each item till nothing was left but her new personal effects. New. Her old ones, Syd reflected, were most likely long gone with everything else she had. This realization was upsetting. All those irreplaceable items she gathered over the years, gone. Photos of her youth, of Will and Francie. The engagement ring from Danny she hid away and looked at in private moments of remembrance. Even Vaughn hadn't changed that. Vaughn, that old picture frame he had given her that Christmas when things seemed bad but really were easy compared to what to come. All missing, all gone and she would never see them again. That is, unless she got back to her world, what to her was the real world, instead of this fake one she was now captive in.
Not wanting to think of it any more, she heaped the objects of her new beginning on the vanity. She'd deal with it later. The dinner was at eight and she needed to take a shower before then.
~
When she got out, she noticed the room was in the process of being disturbed. Clothing was lying out on the bed and Aleksandra was over by the vanity putting her things away.
"What's this?" Syd walked over to her boldly for someone wearing nothing more than a towel.
"I picked out something for this evening."
"I can pick out my own clothing." Syd placed her hand over Aleksandra's, which was determined to disturb another one of her items. "And as I said before, I can put my own belongings away."
"Alright, Ma'am."
"I also told you to call me Sydney before," Sydney grumbled and plopped herself down into the vanity's chair.
Syd stared into the mirror, looking more at Aleksandra than herself. Syd expected her to go away like she had the last two times. She didn't. A meek smile overcame the maid's face as she timidly picked up the silver brush at Syd's elbow and gave a stroke down Sydney's hair.
"Stop it." She turned around, taking the brush from the woman. "I'll comb my own hair.
"Sorry, Ma'am… Sydney. I'm just doing my job."
"I'm surprised you didn't try to bathe me too," she jeered. Aleksandra appeared distressed so Sydney softened somewhat. "I'll take care of myself. You can go."
Syd waited for the door to close and started where the maid had left off, yanking the knots out with some overpriced brush. She hated how her hair always tangled more when wet.
No one since her mother had brushed her hair. After her 'death', the nanny had taught her to be self reliant, to do it herself. That had been for the better, Syd mused. It made her what she was today. Her mother evidently, lived a pampered life if her maid's were required to perform such tasks. Sydney had no intention of allowing someone to take over doing what she had for twenty-two years.
As she finished, Syd returned the brush to the rest of its set. It was than she noticed the picture frame. It bothered her more than it should, its emptiness. Won't be needing that, Syd fumed as she tossed it into a drawer, ruining the order Aleksandra had created.
She went to the bed. What had been laid out for her was fancy but not bad. She would have worn something of its like, if she had been going out to a nice restaurant. Irina, she assumed, enjoyed dining in style. Something told Syd if she dared to go downstairs wearing a pair of jeans and a shirt, she'd feel incredibly out of place all night. Best just to take Aleksandra's 'advice'.
Not long after she donned the light blue skirt and silk blouse, a knock at her door indicated it was time. Another event that hadn't taken place in twenty-two years, would be taking place tonight. She would be sitting down to a meal with her mother. Unlike most family dinners though, the conversation would be of jumping universes, Rambaldi, and prophecies. Her life would never be normal, she feared.
~
"Hello Sydney," Irina kissed her cheek. Her mother was the semblance of elegance all in black and her hair carefully pulled back and arranged to frame her face. She resembled nothing of the prison uniform clad Irina she had grown to know in the CIA cell. Sydney supposed this was the true Irina she never had seen.
"Where's Sark?"
Irina quirked an eyebrow. "Getting attached so soon?"
"No," Syd chuckled, "It's just… he said he might be here."
"I had thought after all these years, we might spend some time alone, but he had said you requested his presence."
Syd blushed with embarrassment. It looked as if like she was afraid to spend time alone with her. "I… I just thought it would be easier this way." She wasn't lying though Irina did not know what tonight's topic would be.
"He'll be here," she stated while seating herself.
Sydney did the same and as if on cue, Sark entered, wearing all black; suit, tie, everything, just like Irina. He acknowledged her no more than a nod of the head while Irina received a warm smile.
Syd took to opportunity of silence to take in her surroundings. Her mother sure knew how to live, she thought again. The dinning room was intimate yet just as her mother, it was the essence of elegance.
The first course was just as quiet and upon it's disappearance, Irina finally broke the ice.
"Did your day go well?" The question had been aimed at Sark, not her.
"Reasonably."
"Good. Sydney behaved?" Irina smiled at her daughter. Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "Do you believe the partnership will be successful?"
"We got along splendidly," Sydney snapped, annoyed at being talked around.
Irina looked at Sark as if to confirm.
"As she said." Sark's smirk along with his slightly rumpled hair, gave him that mischievous school boy appearance.
Feeling like their source of mockery, she yearned to slump down into her chair and hide. She was such an outsider to their amusement.
"What did you spend your day doing?"
Sark remained quiet as if the question wasn't addressed to him. It took a few seconds for her to comprehend it in fact wasn't.
"We talked." That about summed up her day, death threats and all. "Thank you for the clothing," she added, realizing she had never acknowledged receiving them.
Irina's eyes lit up. "Do you like them?"
"They're wonderful." Syd smiled back, feeling awkward but happy at the simplicity of the conversation, at just talking to her mother.
"I had hoped you would. If there's anything you don't like, just let me know."
"No, it's all fine. You thought of everything I could possibly need."
The satisfaction Irina projected, filled Sydney as well. It was then, Sydney knew she would not be telling her tonight. "Did your day go well?"
~
"What was that?" Sark stormed after her after Irina had excused herself for the evening.
Syd understood what he meant, but said nothing.
"I gave my whole evening up so you could tell her, and not a word."
"I couldn't… not tonight," she said, her voice apologetic.
She knew, he understood as well. She couldn't destroy something she had never dreamt would happen.
"Good night, Sydney."
"Night, Sark."
It had been an interesting day and start to her new life.