Sorry for the wait; school sucks. Hopefully, I can wrap this up before my holiday is over. Thank you everyone for the feedback!
The pants of fire line was stolen from someone's sig. It was too good not to use. I have no idea whom it should be attributed to. Forgive me. And I hope this part is up to par, I'm still warming up.
Thanks to my betas! Gabs, Brittany, and Serenitysea are the bestest. Any mistakes? Mea culpa.
---Part the Fourth---
Ana watched Sydney, eyes hungry and intense, but mostly dangerous. It reminded her of Irina, a little, and Sydney wondered if it was part of the KGB curriculum: Better Death Threats through Menacing Stares without Blinking.
And speaking of darling Irina, Sydney contemplated how Ana would take that particular bit of genealogy. She would just love to say, Go ahead, kill me. My mother will really hire you then.
"How," Ana began, catching Sydney's wandering attention, "does it make you feel? Your country accepting a terrorist like Mr. Sark and giving your safety into his care?"
"I beg your pardon," Sark interrupted. "Terrorists are political; I do this for the money-"
One of the guards butted him in the stomach with a rifle. Sydney almost thanked him.
Instead, Sydney took the moment to prepare her answer. Ana had changed the game, shifting her focus from jealousy to something new and unexpected. Sydney told the truth, "I'll tell you how I feel. I loathe this man and all he's done. I feel endangered."
Ana laid her palms flat on the table before her, "You feel betrayed, Sydney. As I felt when my own organization turned on me. You are confused by the actions of your country. You feel betrayed because you have been betrayed. Your country is using you. Let me give you some friendly advice; get out. Leave SD-6; they've betrayed you."
Sydney's head spun. Wiser words had never been spoken, but by Ana? Did Ana know SD-6 wasn't CIA? If so, was she going to try and tell Sydney?
"That's strange advice from a woman who's still with the organization that betrayed her."
Ana flicked her left hand in graceful dismissal, "Oh, but I'm using them, too."
"Right," Sydney scoffed. "You know what I think? I think you want me out because you can't stand the competition."
Ana narrowed her eyes. "Yes, the shackles? They are intimidating. If only I had a pair of my own; I would not be so scared."
Now this, Sydney frowned, is insupportable. I will not be mocked.
"You know, I've been approached by the Man. I turned him down. No dental. I've had better offers."
She was rewarded the burning glare of Sark. Not that she was looking at him; she could just feel it between her shoulder blades. Like a dagger.
Sydney flipped her hair over her shoulder, a classic move learned long ago in junior high. She hoped it worked with hair that hadn't seen the business end of a brush in nearly two days.
Ana rose slowly-
There was a double rap at the door before it opened.
A third guard opened it from the outside and reported in Russian, "Lukas has called a meeting. You must attend."
Ana cursed, "He's going to move on Pasdik. I told him not to. It's premature." Without looking at Sark or Sydney, she ordered the guards to take them to the cell before sweeping out in a cloud of what Marshall would have described as "bad vibes."
***
This time, the guards shackled Sark's ankles together, too. Between that and the length of chain connecting his collar to the wall, he was forced to stand upright. He was still favoring his left leg.
Sydney was returned to the chair. Same old boring walls and cement floor. Fantastic. Not only does the ambience suck, but so does the company. A plan, she wished, my kingdom for a plan.
"That was not a clever thing," Sark broke into her thoughts.
Sydney debated not answering him. "What can I say? Guess my IQ dropped about seventy points the second you entered Flirting with the Enemy Funtime."
"It was a distraction," he drew out each word as explaining carefully to a young child.
"Right." Sydney smiled with false ingenuousness, "Mine, too."
"I know for a fact that the Man has never made you an offer of employment. And never will."
"You admitted yourself that you've been out of contact."
He gave her a hard look. Sydney wondered whether Sark knew the Man was her mother and, also, if he knew Irina was in CIA custody. Was this all part of a plan? Well, it wasn't like she could ask him.
"Nevertheless, I stand by my information."
"I believe we've also already established that you're a liar."
"Come now, Sydney. If I were lying, wouldn't my pants be on fire?"
Sydney looked at him. "That's Agent Bristow to you. See, this is why you're not included in my escape scenario."
He arched a brow in return. "You're withholding?"
"Drop the sexual innuendo. We're imprisoned in an underground enemy fortress by a crazy woman who likes to kill people. We've got torturous irony to spare."
"It's not that I don't have the utmost faith in your abilities, because, oh, I do. But as you have only just emphasized, we are in a most unlikely situation for decampment. Reason must tell you our odds only improve with combined effort."
"Sorry, no," she smiled, "We're all out of reason today. In fact, my day kind of started out logic-free. And, hey, this is all your fault."
"Yes, Agent Bristow, we covered this. 'Every little thing.' Our charming tete-a-tete in the hallway?"
"To continue with my relevant expression of grievance, if you hadn't interrupted, Ana never would have caught me. Ergo, I would not be here. Ergo all your fault."
"To continue with my more urgent inquiry into your exit strategy, as opposed to backsliding into immature scapegoating, did you have a plan?"
"Yes," she lied.
"You are obviously lying-"
"You wouldn't know the truth if it-"
"If it what? Hit me? How could I, I've been hit so many times today-"
Before their conversation could further degenerate, the cell door opened. A tall, medium-built man entered. Sydney didn't recognize him but he ignored Sark and walked straight to her. He stood about a foot off and looked directly at her face before speaking.
"You have the look of her. Lips, chin, and cheekbones. Espinosa is blind not to see it."
Sydney stared. Well, if Sark didn't know about Mom, he can probably figure it out now.
"Abram Chered. I would like to help you. Do not fear, I have my own selfish reasons. The least of which is your…blood."
"I'm willing to hear you out," Sydney remained suspicious.
"You understand the circumstances here?"
Sydney nodded.
"I represent a cadre opposing Espinosa. One of many, I assure you. She wants you here for some reason. Naturally I want the reverse. I'll ransom you to SD-6."
"And keep the money for yourself?"
"Naturally. Should the sum be worth my while…"
"It will be." Sydney was certain her father would guarantee payment.
"Good. Then I'll remove you to my own area of influence forthwith."
"The guards?"
"Are not personally loyal to Espinosa. I outrank them. It is enough."
Sark coughed. "Might I inquire whether I may avail myself of the same opportunity?"
Chered turned, looking at Sark for the first time. "I think not."
"I beg you to reconsider," Sark said in a tone that had nothing of pleading in it. "I am worth at least double the amount of Ms. Bristow."
"Charming," he casually dismissed Sark. "It's been a pleasure, Ms. Bristow. I will return for you shortly."
***
TBC…
The pants of fire line was stolen from someone's sig. It was too good not to use. I have no idea whom it should be attributed to. Forgive me. And I hope this part is up to par, I'm still warming up.
Thanks to my betas! Gabs, Brittany, and Serenitysea are the bestest. Any mistakes? Mea culpa.
---Part the Fourth---
Ana watched Sydney, eyes hungry and intense, but mostly dangerous. It reminded her of Irina, a little, and Sydney wondered if it was part of the KGB curriculum: Better Death Threats through Menacing Stares without Blinking.
And speaking of darling Irina, Sydney contemplated how Ana would take that particular bit of genealogy. She would just love to say, Go ahead, kill me. My mother will really hire you then.
"How," Ana began, catching Sydney's wandering attention, "does it make you feel? Your country accepting a terrorist like Mr. Sark and giving your safety into his care?"
"I beg your pardon," Sark interrupted. "Terrorists are political; I do this for the money-"
One of the guards butted him in the stomach with a rifle. Sydney almost thanked him.
Instead, Sydney took the moment to prepare her answer. Ana had changed the game, shifting her focus from jealousy to something new and unexpected. Sydney told the truth, "I'll tell you how I feel. I loathe this man and all he's done. I feel endangered."
Ana laid her palms flat on the table before her, "You feel betrayed, Sydney. As I felt when my own organization turned on me. You are confused by the actions of your country. You feel betrayed because you have been betrayed. Your country is using you. Let me give you some friendly advice; get out. Leave SD-6; they've betrayed you."
Sydney's head spun. Wiser words had never been spoken, but by Ana? Did Ana know SD-6 wasn't CIA? If so, was she going to try and tell Sydney?
"That's strange advice from a woman who's still with the organization that betrayed her."
Ana flicked her left hand in graceful dismissal, "Oh, but I'm using them, too."
"Right," Sydney scoffed. "You know what I think? I think you want me out because you can't stand the competition."
Ana narrowed her eyes. "Yes, the shackles? They are intimidating. If only I had a pair of my own; I would not be so scared."
Now this, Sydney frowned, is insupportable. I will not be mocked.
"You know, I've been approached by the Man. I turned him down. No dental. I've had better offers."
She was rewarded the burning glare of Sark. Not that she was looking at him; she could just feel it between her shoulder blades. Like a dagger.
Sydney flipped her hair over her shoulder, a classic move learned long ago in junior high. She hoped it worked with hair that hadn't seen the business end of a brush in nearly two days.
Ana rose slowly-
There was a double rap at the door before it opened.
A third guard opened it from the outside and reported in Russian, "Lukas has called a meeting. You must attend."
Ana cursed, "He's going to move on Pasdik. I told him not to. It's premature." Without looking at Sark or Sydney, she ordered the guards to take them to the cell before sweeping out in a cloud of what Marshall would have described as "bad vibes."
***
This time, the guards shackled Sark's ankles together, too. Between that and the length of chain connecting his collar to the wall, he was forced to stand upright. He was still favoring his left leg.
Sydney was returned to the chair. Same old boring walls and cement floor. Fantastic. Not only does the ambience suck, but so does the company. A plan, she wished, my kingdom for a plan.
"That was not a clever thing," Sark broke into her thoughts.
Sydney debated not answering him. "What can I say? Guess my IQ dropped about seventy points the second you entered Flirting with the Enemy Funtime."
"It was a distraction," he drew out each word as explaining carefully to a young child.
"Right." Sydney smiled with false ingenuousness, "Mine, too."
"I know for a fact that the Man has never made you an offer of employment. And never will."
"You admitted yourself that you've been out of contact."
He gave her a hard look. Sydney wondered whether Sark knew the Man was her mother and, also, if he knew Irina was in CIA custody. Was this all part of a plan? Well, it wasn't like she could ask him.
"Nevertheless, I stand by my information."
"I believe we've also already established that you're a liar."
"Come now, Sydney. If I were lying, wouldn't my pants be on fire?"
Sydney looked at him. "That's Agent Bristow to you. See, this is why you're not included in my escape scenario."
He arched a brow in return. "You're withholding?"
"Drop the sexual innuendo. We're imprisoned in an underground enemy fortress by a crazy woman who likes to kill people. We've got torturous irony to spare."
"It's not that I don't have the utmost faith in your abilities, because, oh, I do. But as you have only just emphasized, we are in a most unlikely situation for decampment. Reason must tell you our odds only improve with combined effort."
"Sorry, no," she smiled, "We're all out of reason today. In fact, my day kind of started out logic-free. And, hey, this is all your fault."
"Yes, Agent Bristow, we covered this. 'Every little thing.' Our charming tete-a-tete in the hallway?"
"To continue with my relevant expression of grievance, if you hadn't interrupted, Ana never would have caught me. Ergo, I would not be here. Ergo all your fault."
"To continue with my more urgent inquiry into your exit strategy, as opposed to backsliding into immature scapegoating, did you have a plan?"
"Yes," she lied.
"You are obviously lying-"
"You wouldn't know the truth if it-"
"If it what? Hit me? How could I, I've been hit so many times today-"
Before their conversation could further degenerate, the cell door opened. A tall, medium-built man entered. Sydney didn't recognize him but he ignored Sark and walked straight to her. He stood about a foot off and looked directly at her face before speaking.
"You have the look of her. Lips, chin, and cheekbones. Espinosa is blind not to see it."
Sydney stared. Well, if Sark didn't know about Mom, he can probably figure it out now.
"Abram Chered. I would like to help you. Do not fear, I have my own selfish reasons. The least of which is your…blood."
"I'm willing to hear you out," Sydney remained suspicious.
"You understand the circumstances here?"
Sydney nodded.
"I represent a cadre opposing Espinosa. One of many, I assure you. She wants you here for some reason. Naturally I want the reverse. I'll ransom you to SD-6."
"And keep the money for yourself?"
"Naturally. Should the sum be worth my while…"
"It will be." Sydney was certain her father would guarantee payment.
"Good. Then I'll remove you to my own area of influence forthwith."
"The guards?"
"Are not personally loyal to Espinosa. I outrank them. It is enough."
Sark coughed. "Might I inquire whether I may avail myself of the same opportunity?"
Chered turned, looking at Sark for the first time. "I think not."
"I beg you to reconsider," Sark said in a tone that had nothing of pleading in it. "I am worth at least double the amount of Ms. Bristow."
"Charming," he casually dismissed Sark. "It's been a pleasure, Ms. Bristow. I will return for you shortly."
***
TBC…