Notes: Thanks you so much for your kind feedback guys(annie, leonsalanna,indiepunk, scifichick774 and celticangel) I'm unsure when the next chapter will be up since I've started writing a non Alias fic. I'll try to make it within the next 2 weeks though.
Annie- My story always gets updated at SD-1.com before anywhere else so if you are ever looking for the most up to date version on my fics that is the place to check. It has my NC-17 stuff that I can't put here as well and also a ton of great fics in the Sark forum that you can't find on ff.net.
~
Deciding what to do next wasn't difficult. Sark and Syd couldn't stay within the hotel, simple as that. It was how they'd get out of the hotel that was the problem. Sark argued that the risk of a side exit was worth it compared to the risk of being noticed in the lobby. She of course felt the opposite. It was more than likely the gunshots had been heard and two people trying to get out from an alternative exit would gather far more attention, so exiting through the front was the better choice. With the crowd, she was sure they would find they could blend in, relying on the distraction to escape.
Sark conceded and it turned out that Sydney was correct. When they found themselves in the still crowded lobby, it was already at the point of semi-controlled chaos and confusion. Word of a disturbance upstairs was indeed already circulating among the patrons and hotel staff, who were being herded off to a corner by a frustrated police attempting to keep some form of order.
Sydney did her best to disguise her limp by gripping tightly onto Sark's arm, as if she were frightened by these events, and grinding her teeth to ease the pain. She was incredibly embarrassed by the tears streaming down her face, resulting from the unbearable throbbing of her leg. Each step hurt worse than the one before. She put as much weight as possible onto Sark, who was supporting her further in the guise of being a man comforting his lover. All and all this was as strange an experience for Syd as having had to play nice upstairs for the sake of making things go smoother. That was something that had totally failed but she hoped this time it went better.
It did. They took the opportunity of the paramedics rushing in to slip away into the parking lot unnoticed.
"Bloody hell," Sark muttered beneath his breath, as she dug her fingers deeper into his arm on a particularly painful step.
"I'm sorry. The ground's uneven."
"It's fine. Just keep holding on and don't worry about me. The less pressure placed on that leg, the better."
After helping her into the car, he stared down at her leg as if in deliberation.
"Not much can be done for that here," he sighed, running his hand through his messy hair. And even if something could be done, he knew it'd be a bad idea with everything going on.
Sark's appearance was no longer the impeccable one she was so used to. Had she been wrong about the condition of the lobby, he would have stood out for sure and they'd be paying severely for the mistake. He looked tired and his suit was ripped on one sleeve and splattered with blood. Sydney knew this was yet another side of Sark she had never seen, nor the opportunity to see. The one after a hard mission; the one that was weary. It was so much less pleasant and so much more shocking than when she discovered him smiling and laughing days previously.
"Where are going?" Syd asked as Sark slipped into his seat.
"A flat not far from here, a twenty minute drive at most."
Pulling out of the parking lot, Sark flipped his cell phone open and pressed the instant dial on the phone.
"We've got the page, though the mission didn't go as well as planned."
Listening to the reply, he rummaged through a bag he had gotten from the back seat and handed her a bottle of pills.
Painkillers. Well, it's better than nothing, she supposed.
"Sydney's hurt… her leg; I think it might be broken." He paused again allowing the other individual, Sydney presumed her mother, to speak. "I realize that. We're off to the apartment to recoup and than we'll head ba-… Another day at least… Fine."
Sark clicked the off button, shoved the phone back into his pocket and focused on the road. In the meanwhile, Syd leaned her head into the window, cherishing the few minutes of silence ahead of her.
~
The car stopped a short time later in a nice, quiet, wooded area in the outskirts of Paris. It would give one privacy if needed but was also close enough to the city to not be a hassle to have access to its conveniences. It was definitely an upper class neighborhood, and one of the apartments in the complex probably cost a sizable amount each month, but not enough so to draw attention to the inhabitant's wealth. Affluent, efficient and private, yet close to the action; all together something told Syd that she was about to enter one of Sark's residences.
"Now let's see to this leg." After opening her car door, Sark dropped down onto one knee to inspect the wounded leg. "You mind?" he asked, indicating he wished to rip the fabric to get a better look.
She knew what the end result would be, that it was in fact broken, but she'd allow him to do it all the same. "Not at all."
Tearing it with relative ease, Sark than carefully touched her badly busied leg, his fingers examining each spot, some tender, from the knee down. With a sigh, he got up and swept his hand across his pants to remove any gravel that may still be there.
"It's definitely broken… in two spots, I believe. We'll take care of it inside." Without another word, he disappeared up some stairs and after a few moments, through a door he had opened. Syd was becoming anxious he had actually expected her to follow him on her own, before he finally returned. "Place your arms around my neck," Sark demanded as he reached out to lift her.
Sydney rolled her eyes as she realized he was planning to carry her. "I'll walk."
Sark's eyebrow quirked in amazement… or perhaps it was annoyance. "You'll walk," Sark stated condescendingly, "and it will be broken in three spots instead of the two."
"I walked on it before; I don't see much the difference." She didn't know why he was putting up such a fuss, though if asked, she wouldn't know why she was putting up a fuss either.
"I couldn't have carried you before without making a scene and then a broken leg would have been the least of our problems."
"Tad grumpy, aren't you Sark?"
""I'm trying to make things easier for both of us and you're being difficult but if you insist on walking, go ahead."
"You know that's not what I meant. I can't exactly going anywhere without your help." Under her breath she muttered, "But I don't need to be carried like a child by you either."
Sark paused, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes on her. "What's this all really about?"
Syd heart stopped as she wondered what Sark was reading into her behavior. "Nothing," she answered and was astounded by how guilty she sounded. "Now help me up."
"No, it's not nothing and I think before I help you do anything, I'll need to know what it is."
Syd threw him a nasty glare. "Blackmail, Sark? I shouldn't have expected anything less from the likes of you but I'll make myself clear. I don't like being questioned… or blackmailed, particularly by someone such as you. Besides, since you're sure you there is something, you must have an idea." She sure as hell didn't.
"Oh, I have an idea and you've just confirmed it."
"Confirmed what?"
"Now come here," Sark huffed, ignoring her question as he gathered her up causing her to gasp at the audacity of it all. How dare he, her mind screamed, as he strode up the flight of stairs holding her, making her choose between throwing her arms around his neck for balance or falling. She choose the prior… grudgingly so.
Deep down she want to rebel, to kick and thrash about and demand her release. But any part of her seeking to do so fell silent due to two simple facts. First, she was a spy; she prided herself in that fact and drawing attention to herself at this time would be detrimental to their safety (and her ego). Second and more importantly, she didn't want to look like the child she had earlier complained about being treated as. It was something else her pride would not allow. Not in front of this man.
After entering the spacious apartment, Sark plopped Syd down on the couch. He wasn't actually gentle in doing so but not overly inconsiderate either. Looking around, Syd saw the place was pretty bare. Some furniture, a television, and books sprawled across the tableside pretty much summed up everything in sight. The apartment looked unlived in, but since its owner wasn't likely to be around much, that was reasonable. Sark opened the curtains, allowing some more light to come in. She could tell the place was clean so it hadn't been abandoned long enough for extensive dust to collect or perhaps Sark even had someone come clean the place from time to time so it was decent whenever he did arrive. She could see Sark being meticulous about something like that.
Syd had been too lost in thought to notice that Sark, with his arms crossed, was eyeing her, displeasure on his face. Aware he had her attention at last, he informed her, "I'm going out to see if I can make contact with someone I know, who can help mend your leg ."
"Do we really have time before we head back?"
"We'll be here for a few days at least and it is preferable your leg be attended to now rather than later."
Syd was unable to hide her shock. Stuck in an apartment for days with Sark of all people. "But on the phone you said-"
"I did. I assumed that would be what your mother wanted, the information above all else. I was wrong."
"What happens if they come looking for us?" They being Laufer's men and her father and Dixon as well. Though she was sure she wanted nothing to do with the former, the idea of her father gave her a secret spark of hope, no matter how dangerous it would be for her to go with someone who was technically one of Sloane's men.
"That's why we're staying here," Sark responded to her question. "They'll be looking for us and it's safer in seclusion than dragging you, broken leg and all, through a public airport. Staying here will allow time for other arrangements to be made."
"How long?"
"Few days... till they believe us far away and the risk of leaving is minimum. Then we'll be picked up and we'll head back.
"I thought she'd want the papers, straight away," Syd softly murmured, still unable to believe it was true.
"So did I. I've found she values you neck over having the advantage having it quickly would gain us. If it were me with the broken leg, I suppose it'd be a whole different story."
"Then why the loyalty?"
Sark's eyes flashed away, as if in discomfort but their cold blue expression was one of deep thought. Was he considering the question on why indeed he devoted himself to that woman or were these thoughts on some particular event worthy of his loyalty? She did not know but in this moment she knew she craved to.
Though, as usual Sark would not give her, her way and told her nothing. The conversation was dropped just as quickly as the one earlier had been and Sark silently turned to the kitchen, with an expression of contemplation still present.
It was not long before he entered the room again, bottle of water in his hand, which he casually handed to her. She wanted to laugh at the gesture of thoughtfulness, but the look of outright seriousness on his face, stopped her from doing so.
"I'll be back," was all he said, as he exited the apartment, leaving Syd with a tense and almost gloomy feeling.
Moodily, she cuddled into the soft sofa for several minutes, before the silence and thoughts overwhelmed her and grabbed for the tv remote in the need of distraction. Lazily, she flipped through the channels indifferently, not caring much about what she was seeing but just happy it had nothing to do with any problems she might be facing. A cooking show, some incredibly unfunny French sitcom, they were all welcome in comparison to reality. That was why her heart was filled with horror as she passed a channel, reporting news on the events that had taken place earlier.
Jerking up, pain shot through her leg, which she foolish had put pressure on, as she had leaned forward to get a better focus on the sight before her. The television showed a crowd of reporters. The focus was on a young, brunette female who was clearly covering news for the channel. A crowd of onlookers were gaping at something out of the camera's view. The caption read, "One dead and two injured in assumed robbery."
The lady went on to sternly report, "Sources still do not know what lead to the gruesome events that took place in this exclusive hotel, only today, but there is indication that robbery may have been involved. And in a strange twist of events, one of the two injured men, we earlier showed you being taken from the hotel…" (They went on to replay the footage of two men being carried out by stretchers)… "has disappeared."
Syd gasped as she clearly recognized one of the men being carried out to be her father, his gray hair more than visible as the paramedics went by.
Tears ran down Syd's face as the reporter finished up, "The identities of the assailants are still unknown."
She should have felt better that her father was not one of the dead and there was a chance he was the individual who had gotten away, but she didn't. Her pessimistic mind cried, 'The CIA will get their hands on him and I'll never see him again.' She tried to convince herself it did not matter. This was not the father of her world and once she went back, the Jack Bristow she knew would be waiting, but it pained her to know her father was suffering in any place.
'Gotten Away… it could be him,' her mind reasoned. There was no word of Dixon at the scene and he would never just abandon him. And if Dixon called Sloane to alert him of what happened, Sloane would insist something been done to recover such a valuable agent. She gave a bitter, dark laugh at the taking sick comfort in the knowledge she gained in the fact her father's betrayal of her memory by working with such a man, was also his protection. Jack was needed unlike less valuable agents like Marshall and Mckennas Cole. Sloane was sure to extract him.
Muting the television, she laid back and rested her stinging eyes. Her life had never been easy but this was ridiculous. She could barely stand it. It was nearly insane. The idea she was dragged off to some parallel dimension and now had the worries of both worlds upon her. As if things hadn't been bad enough before.
There was nothing she could do at the moment, and thinking about it was making her even more restless, so she grabbed one of the books on the table next to her.
"Far better than tv," she thought to herself, opening the copy of Great Expectations, and blinking away the tears so she could read the words.
Annie- My story always gets updated at SD-1.com before anywhere else so if you are ever looking for the most up to date version on my fics that is the place to check. It has my NC-17 stuff that I can't put here as well and also a ton of great fics in the Sark forum that you can't find on ff.net.
~
Deciding what to do next wasn't difficult. Sark and Syd couldn't stay within the hotel, simple as that. It was how they'd get out of the hotel that was the problem. Sark argued that the risk of a side exit was worth it compared to the risk of being noticed in the lobby. She of course felt the opposite. It was more than likely the gunshots had been heard and two people trying to get out from an alternative exit would gather far more attention, so exiting through the front was the better choice. With the crowd, she was sure they would find they could blend in, relying on the distraction to escape.
Sark conceded and it turned out that Sydney was correct. When they found themselves in the still crowded lobby, it was already at the point of semi-controlled chaos and confusion. Word of a disturbance upstairs was indeed already circulating among the patrons and hotel staff, who were being herded off to a corner by a frustrated police attempting to keep some form of order.
Sydney did her best to disguise her limp by gripping tightly onto Sark's arm, as if she were frightened by these events, and grinding her teeth to ease the pain. She was incredibly embarrassed by the tears streaming down her face, resulting from the unbearable throbbing of her leg. Each step hurt worse than the one before. She put as much weight as possible onto Sark, who was supporting her further in the guise of being a man comforting his lover. All and all this was as strange an experience for Syd as having had to play nice upstairs for the sake of making things go smoother. That was something that had totally failed but she hoped this time it went better.
It did. They took the opportunity of the paramedics rushing in to slip away into the parking lot unnoticed.
"Bloody hell," Sark muttered beneath his breath, as she dug her fingers deeper into his arm on a particularly painful step.
"I'm sorry. The ground's uneven."
"It's fine. Just keep holding on and don't worry about me. The less pressure placed on that leg, the better."
After helping her into the car, he stared down at her leg as if in deliberation.
"Not much can be done for that here," he sighed, running his hand through his messy hair. And even if something could be done, he knew it'd be a bad idea with everything going on.
Sark's appearance was no longer the impeccable one she was so used to. Had she been wrong about the condition of the lobby, he would have stood out for sure and they'd be paying severely for the mistake. He looked tired and his suit was ripped on one sleeve and splattered with blood. Sydney knew this was yet another side of Sark she had never seen, nor the opportunity to see. The one after a hard mission; the one that was weary. It was so much less pleasant and so much more shocking than when she discovered him smiling and laughing days previously.
"Where are going?" Syd asked as Sark slipped into his seat.
"A flat not far from here, a twenty minute drive at most."
Pulling out of the parking lot, Sark flipped his cell phone open and pressed the instant dial on the phone.
"We've got the page, though the mission didn't go as well as planned."
Listening to the reply, he rummaged through a bag he had gotten from the back seat and handed her a bottle of pills.
Painkillers. Well, it's better than nothing, she supposed.
"Sydney's hurt… her leg; I think it might be broken." He paused again allowing the other individual, Sydney presumed her mother, to speak. "I realize that. We're off to the apartment to recoup and than we'll head ba-… Another day at least… Fine."
Sark clicked the off button, shoved the phone back into his pocket and focused on the road. In the meanwhile, Syd leaned her head into the window, cherishing the few minutes of silence ahead of her.
~
The car stopped a short time later in a nice, quiet, wooded area in the outskirts of Paris. It would give one privacy if needed but was also close enough to the city to not be a hassle to have access to its conveniences. It was definitely an upper class neighborhood, and one of the apartments in the complex probably cost a sizable amount each month, but not enough so to draw attention to the inhabitant's wealth. Affluent, efficient and private, yet close to the action; all together something told Syd that she was about to enter one of Sark's residences.
"Now let's see to this leg." After opening her car door, Sark dropped down onto one knee to inspect the wounded leg. "You mind?" he asked, indicating he wished to rip the fabric to get a better look.
She knew what the end result would be, that it was in fact broken, but she'd allow him to do it all the same. "Not at all."
Tearing it with relative ease, Sark than carefully touched her badly busied leg, his fingers examining each spot, some tender, from the knee down. With a sigh, he got up and swept his hand across his pants to remove any gravel that may still be there.
"It's definitely broken… in two spots, I believe. We'll take care of it inside." Without another word, he disappeared up some stairs and after a few moments, through a door he had opened. Syd was becoming anxious he had actually expected her to follow him on her own, before he finally returned. "Place your arms around my neck," Sark demanded as he reached out to lift her.
Sydney rolled her eyes as she realized he was planning to carry her. "I'll walk."
Sark's eyebrow quirked in amazement… or perhaps it was annoyance. "You'll walk," Sark stated condescendingly, "and it will be broken in three spots instead of the two."
"I walked on it before; I don't see much the difference." She didn't know why he was putting up such a fuss, though if asked, she wouldn't know why she was putting up a fuss either.
"I couldn't have carried you before without making a scene and then a broken leg would have been the least of our problems."
"Tad grumpy, aren't you Sark?"
""I'm trying to make things easier for both of us and you're being difficult but if you insist on walking, go ahead."
"You know that's not what I meant. I can't exactly going anywhere without your help." Under her breath she muttered, "But I don't need to be carried like a child by you either."
Sark paused, crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes on her. "What's this all really about?"
Syd heart stopped as she wondered what Sark was reading into her behavior. "Nothing," she answered and was astounded by how guilty she sounded. "Now help me up."
"No, it's not nothing and I think before I help you do anything, I'll need to know what it is."
Syd threw him a nasty glare. "Blackmail, Sark? I shouldn't have expected anything less from the likes of you but I'll make myself clear. I don't like being questioned… or blackmailed, particularly by someone such as you. Besides, since you're sure you there is something, you must have an idea." She sure as hell didn't.
"Oh, I have an idea and you've just confirmed it."
"Confirmed what?"
"Now come here," Sark huffed, ignoring her question as he gathered her up causing her to gasp at the audacity of it all. How dare he, her mind screamed, as he strode up the flight of stairs holding her, making her choose between throwing her arms around his neck for balance or falling. She choose the prior… grudgingly so.
Deep down she want to rebel, to kick and thrash about and demand her release. But any part of her seeking to do so fell silent due to two simple facts. First, she was a spy; she prided herself in that fact and drawing attention to herself at this time would be detrimental to their safety (and her ego). Second and more importantly, she didn't want to look like the child she had earlier complained about being treated as. It was something else her pride would not allow. Not in front of this man.
After entering the spacious apartment, Sark plopped Syd down on the couch. He wasn't actually gentle in doing so but not overly inconsiderate either. Looking around, Syd saw the place was pretty bare. Some furniture, a television, and books sprawled across the tableside pretty much summed up everything in sight. The apartment looked unlived in, but since its owner wasn't likely to be around much, that was reasonable. Sark opened the curtains, allowing some more light to come in. She could tell the place was clean so it hadn't been abandoned long enough for extensive dust to collect or perhaps Sark even had someone come clean the place from time to time so it was decent whenever he did arrive. She could see Sark being meticulous about something like that.
Syd had been too lost in thought to notice that Sark, with his arms crossed, was eyeing her, displeasure on his face. Aware he had her attention at last, he informed her, "I'm going out to see if I can make contact with someone I know, who can help mend your leg ."
"Do we really have time before we head back?"
"We'll be here for a few days at least and it is preferable your leg be attended to now rather than later."
Syd was unable to hide her shock. Stuck in an apartment for days with Sark of all people. "But on the phone you said-"
"I did. I assumed that would be what your mother wanted, the information above all else. I was wrong."
"What happens if they come looking for us?" They being Laufer's men and her father and Dixon as well. Though she was sure she wanted nothing to do with the former, the idea of her father gave her a secret spark of hope, no matter how dangerous it would be for her to go with someone who was technically one of Sloane's men.
"That's why we're staying here," Sark responded to her question. "They'll be looking for us and it's safer in seclusion than dragging you, broken leg and all, through a public airport. Staying here will allow time for other arrangements to be made."
"How long?"
"Few days... till they believe us far away and the risk of leaving is minimum. Then we'll be picked up and we'll head back.
"I thought she'd want the papers, straight away," Syd softly murmured, still unable to believe it was true.
"So did I. I've found she values you neck over having the advantage having it quickly would gain us. If it were me with the broken leg, I suppose it'd be a whole different story."
"Then why the loyalty?"
Sark's eyes flashed away, as if in discomfort but their cold blue expression was one of deep thought. Was he considering the question on why indeed he devoted himself to that woman or were these thoughts on some particular event worthy of his loyalty? She did not know but in this moment she knew she craved to.
Though, as usual Sark would not give her, her way and told her nothing. The conversation was dropped just as quickly as the one earlier had been and Sark silently turned to the kitchen, with an expression of contemplation still present.
It was not long before he entered the room again, bottle of water in his hand, which he casually handed to her. She wanted to laugh at the gesture of thoughtfulness, but the look of outright seriousness on his face, stopped her from doing so.
"I'll be back," was all he said, as he exited the apartment, leaving Syd with a tense and almost gloomy feeling.
Moodily, she cuddled into the soft sofa for several minutes, before the silence and thoughts overwhelmed her and grabbed for the tv remote in the need of distraction. Lazily, she flipped through the channels indifferently, not caring much about what she was seeing but just happy it had nothing to do with any problems she might be facing. A cooking show, some incredibly unfunny French sitcom, they were all welcome in comparison to reality. That was why her heart was filled with horror as she passed a channel, reporting news on the events that had taken place earlier.
Jerking up, pain shot through her leg, which she foolish had put pressure on, as she had leaned forward to get a better focus on the sight before her. The television showed a crowd of reporters. The focus was on a young, brunette female who was clearly covering news for the channel. A crowd of onlookers were gaping at something out of the camera's view. The caption read, "One dead and two injured in assumed robbery."
The lady went on to sternly report, "Sources still do not know what lead to the gruesome events that took place in this exclusive hotel, only today, but there is indication that robbery may have been involved. And in a strange twist of events, one of the two injured men, we earlier showed you being taken from the hotel…" (They went on to replay the footage of two men being carried out by stretchers)… "has disappeared."
Syd gasped as she clearly recognized one of the men being carried out to be her father, his gray hair more than visible as the paramedics went by.
Tears ran down Syd's face as the reporter finished up, "The identities of the assailants are still unknown."
She should have felt better that her father was not one of the dead and there was a chance he was the individual who had gotten away, but she didn't. Her pessimistic mind cried, 'The CIA will get their hands on him and I'll never see him again.' She tried to convince herself it did not matter. This was not the father of her world and once she went back, the Jack Bristow she knew would be waiting, but it pained her to know her father was suffering in any place.
'Gotten Away… it could be him,' her mind reasoned. There was no word of Dixon at the scene and he would never just abandon him. And if Dixon called Sloane to alert him of what happened, Sloane would insist something been done to recover such a valuable agent. She gave a bitter, dark laugh at the taking sick comfort in the knowledge she gained in the fact her father's betrayal of her memory by working with such a man, was also his protection. Jack was needed unlike less valuable agents like Marshall and Mckennas Cole. Sloane was sure to extract him.
Muting the television, she laid back and rested her stinging eyes. Her life had never been easy but this was ridiculous. She could barely stand it. It was nearly insane. The idea she was dragged off to some parallel dimension and now had the worries of both worlds upon her. As if things hadn't been bad enough before.
There was nothing she could do at the moment, and thinking about it was making her even more restless, so she grabbed one of the books on the table next to her.
"Far better than tv," she thought to herself, opening the copy of Great Expectations, and blinking away the tears so she could read the words.