Title: No White Flag

Disclaimer: As if I was cool enough to have thought up "Alias!" I wish!

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Sydney/Sark (later on)

Summary: Sydney sits, lost in thought after the latest mission (3.04) with Vaughn's stabbing.

Author's note: I'm not usually a fan of song fics, but Dido's "White Flag" was on repeat in my stereo and it made me think of Sydney, who never gives up. The lyrics are paraphrased within this chapter. This is my first "Alias" fic.

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I will go down with this ship, she thought. She wouldn't put her hands up and surrender.

Not Sydney Bristow.

No, she knew there would be no white flag above her door. Because she was in love, and she always would be. At least, she thought she always would be, two years ago. But since her return, everything was being called into question.

Perhaps she'd been listening to too much Dido. Or perhaps Vaughn had truly ripped her apart. She was hollow. Earlier that night, she had kissed a man who knew her as Julia. She didn't even know herself as Julia. Yet she had given in, wanting the intel. She never would have crossed the physical boundary before, even for an important mission. She would die for the CIA, but she wouldn't prostitute herself for the organization. Or so she had thought.

But you know what? It actually felt good. In a sick way, so did stabbing Vaughn. She rationalized it by saying she had stabbed the least harmful way possible and had stuck the transmitter on him so the CIA could easily find him. She saved him from certain death at the hands of Simon's group. Sure, it wouldn't be as easy for the CIA to track the stolen serum now, but at least Lauren would have her precious Vaughn safe at home after a short hospital stay.

It was over with Vaughn. On the airplane, on the way to the mission, they had had a Moment. Like the one a week earlier when he caught a glimpse of her in her ball gown before they destroyed Medusa. But that's all they were – fleeting moments, because after a few seconds, all either could think about was Her.

Lauren.

In her heart of hearts, Sydney knew she had left too much mess and destruction to just come back again and pretend like nothing had ever happened, like two years hadn't passed. For God's sake, if Sloane could be the chair of a world relief organization, certainly anything was possible.

No, she'd hold her tongue and let Vaughn think she'd moved on. To what, she didn't know. Will was in witness protection. She had yet to see him. Surprisingly, Weiss was quickly becoming a quasi-replacement for that old friendship – in her mind, she found herself secretly calling Eric "nouveau-Will." But, like Will, they were just friends. And without the lingering physical attracting her and Will had always shared.

Now, she was sure she had slept with people during the past two years. Simon had pretty much confirmed her suspicions. She didn't know how many. She didn't want to know. If she could slit Lazarey's throat in cold blood, she could have done anything. Anything. The thought frightened her.

She thought of the videotape of Lazarey, for the millionth time in the last few weeks. It all kept coming back to that man. She barely knew anything about him, save the fact that he was Sark's father. And that was more than Sark himself had known until he lost his $800 million inheritance.

Somehow, her fate seemed to be intertwined with Sark's. Earlier that night, she had learned that he was Simon's contact from the Covenant. It didn't surprise her. After all, Sark's loyalties were indeed flexible. Quite flexible.

She didn't know for sure that he had spotted her. He would have only seen her profile for a second at most, and then the long, curly hair extensions she wore as "Julia." But somehow, she knew he had seen her. And had kept quiet. It all must be part of a master plan. Clearly, he had let her go because he would need her later on.

For what, she didn't know. But as she looked up from the couch where she had been resting, lost in thought, and saw him enter the room, she knew she would soon find out.

"Hello, Sydney."