A/N: Thanks for the encouragement, you guys are great. I want to thank my friend Katie for putting up with all of my Alias talk (which is A LOT) even though she detests blood and will hate that there is some in this chapter (haha!). And of course, thanks to my betas, you guys are also really great!!
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Faith, is not something that I grasp
It's something that I fake
As I'm slipping,
As I'm falling through the cracks
Faith, without action is a mask
For making some mistakes
As I'm slipping
As I'm falling through the cracks
But somehow I find beauty in our failings
Somehow I find meaning in this life
Somehow I made perfect in this fracture
Your back is begging sweetly for my knives.
~Thrice, Betrayal is a Symptom~
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 2: Decisions
Sydney tried to sleep but every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was images of Vaughn being shot. The metal of her cot was cold and Sydney was glad that her clothes actually covered most of her skin. So instead of sleeping, she lay on her back and just stared at the ceiling, thoughts running through her mind. The most important being how she had been betrayed. But why Sark wanted to get her out of here was another thought that wouldn't leave Sydney alone. He had no reason to, and yet he still offered. The fact that he was working with her mother worried her, though. The CIA had no idea where Irina had been for over 2 years and the fact that Sark could find her after only being out of custody for a little over a month told her that he was in deep. Sydney wondered just how deep she would have to go if she accepted his offer of help.
But her thoughts were interrupted as the door was opened again. Hoping for more food, Sydney was disappointed when Simon came in, no food in sight.
"Hello, Sydney," he said, closing the door behind him and putting extra emphasis on her name. "How are we today?"
Sydney noticed that he seemed angry about something and decided to push his buttons. "What's the matter now, Simon? Did another one of your precious lackeys betray you?"
He crossed over to her cot and punched her, his fist stinging the side of her face as she felt blood in her mouth. Sydney flinched but didn't show any more pain, she had been taught to compartmentalize things like pain.
"No, Sydney. You're the only one who has an unlucky future heading towards them."
"I take it you're going to kill me then?"
"Yes. But that comes later. First, we want information."
Sydney spat blood out onto the floor, narrowly missing his shiny black shoes. Simon grinned.
"Pity. It seems your aim's off, Ms. Bristow."
She grinned back. And then spat in his face. Simon's grin disappeared while her's widened. He slowly reached a hand up to wipe the blood off of his nose and cheek.
"Fine. If you want it that way, I'll leave you here and come back later."
"Too chicken to torture me yourself, are we Si?" She tilted her head, still grinning.
"Oh, I just don't want any blood on my nice suit. But someone else will be coming in to do the job for me. Have fun Bristow."
And with that, Simon slammed the door behind him and Sydney's grin disappeared. Sure, it was fun messing with him, but she wasn't so sure that he was kidding about the torture part. But she didn't have long to wait. No more than 5 minutes later, the steel door opened and she was once again greeted by the infamous Sark smirk.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jack Bristow stared at his desk. It had been exactly 12 hours, 14 minutes and 32 seconds since Sydney had been scheduled to check in. It wasn't like him to worry often, but he did have a soft spot for his daughter, and he knew that she was never late for anything. Punctuality, that was what Sydney strived for. And now, Jack knew that something was wrong. But nothing he did helped; he had already expressed his concerns to Dixon, but that had been 6 hours ago and the director had been sure that there was just a technical problem. But Jack knew Marshall, and nothing he made ever, ever, had a problem. So he knew that that wasn't the case. No, something was the matter with Sydney. And he had to help.
Searching for his key, Jack unlocked the thin drawer in his desk and took out the cell phone that he never used. Pressing re-dial, he put the phone to his ear and listened to the ringing, glancing around the room to be sure that no one was about to come into his office. Then someone picked up on the other end.
"Yes?"
"I need your help."
"With Sydney, I presume?"
"Of course. She missed her check-in, and I want her back."
"Don't worry, Jack. I already have someone working on it. But I can't guarantee that she'll come back to you. She has to choose her own path, you know."
"I know, you don't have to remind me. Just get her out of the hands of whoever has her. Contact me when you've extracted her and I'll come find you."
"I'll make sure she gets out. That's all I can promise."
Jack hung up. He didn't like what he had to do, but he did have to do it. After all, he was Jack Bristow. And Jack Bristow got what he wanted. Always.
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"Well, hello again Sydney."
"You know, I've been thinking Sark," she grinned and he closed the door.
"And what have you been thinking about?" Seeing her glance around the room he added, "I have rerouted the feed again. You don't believe that I'm that incapable do you?"
"Of course not." Sydney tried on a smirk of her own. "I've been thinking about the fact that you seem to be on a first name basis with me. And I don't think it's fair that you know my first name, but I do not have the honor, or shall we say privilege, of knowing yours."
"Ah well, that will have to wait for later. Right now I'm supposed to be torturing you." Sark sat down on the only stool in the room and leaned backwards against the wall.
"You don't look like you're here to torture, Sark. Instead, if I were that naïve, I would think that you'd come here for a nice civilized chat."
"But of course, Sydney, love. What else would I have come for?" He smiled. "Do you have an answer to my question?"
Sydney closed her eyes, a million ideas running through her head at once. Simon's serious gaze had unnerved her, she was fairly sure now that he would kill her, after torturing everything out of her first of course. And it didn't seem as if the CIA could get her out of this one. She always knew a day like this would come; when she would have to decide between the life she knew and a new one. But now the truth was, she didn't have a life she knew anymore. Her memories were all two years old and so much had changed since then. Almost everything, in fact. Realizing she had nothing to lose, Sydney opened her eyes and glanced at Sark. He was waiting patiently, still leaning against the wall.
"Yes," she whispered, so soft he couldn't even hear her.
Sark stood up and walked close to her and knelt down. "What?"
"Yes," Sydney said louder, more sure of himself. "Yes, I'll do it. I'll come and work with you."
"I'm glad that that's the decision you've made, Sydney. I'll devise a plan to get you out of here, sometime soon. Now," he paused. "Since I'm supposed to be torturing you..." Sark left his sentence unfinished.
"I understand; you have to make it seem real. Just try to make it hurt too much, would ya?" She smiled grimly.
Sark took a moment to compose himself while Sydney waited. Then his fist lashed out, catching her eye. Sydney fell backwards onto the cot and vaguely heard the door shut. He was gone. And Sydney couldn't help but think that her freedom was walking out the door with him.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Faith, is not something that I grasp
It's something that I fake
As I'm slipping,
As I'm falling through the cracks
Faith, without action is a mask
For making some mistakes
As I'm slipping
As I'm falling through the cracks
But somehow I find beauty in our failings
Somehow I find meaning in this life
Somehow I made perfect in this fracture
Your back is begging sweetly for my knives.
~Thrice, Betrayal is a Symptom~
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter 2: Decisions
Sydney tried to sleep but every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was images of Vaughn being shot. The metal of her cot was cold and Sydney was glad that her clothes actually covered most of her skin. So instead of sleeping, she lay on her back and just stared at the ceiling, thoughts running through her mind. The most important being how she had been betrayed. But why Sark wanted to get her out of here was another thought that wouldn't leave Sydney alone. He had no reason to, and yet he still offered. The fact that he was working with her mother worried her, though. The CIA had no idea where Irina had been for over 2 years and the fact that Sark could find her after only being out of custody for a little over a month told her that he was in deep. Sydney wondered just how deep she would have to go if she accepted his offer of help.
But her thoughts were interrupted as the door was opened again. Hoping for more food, Sydney was disappointed when Simon came in, no food in sight.
"Hello, Sydney," he said, closing the door behind him and putting extra emphasis on her name. "How are we today?"
Sydney noticed that he seemed angry about something and decided to push his buttons. "What's the matter now, Simon? Did another one of your precious lackeys betray you?"
He crossed over to her cot and punched her, his fist stinging the side of her face as she felt blood in her mouth. Sydney flinched but didn't show any more pain, she had been taught to compartmentalize things like pain.
"No, Sydney. You're the only one who has an unlucky future heading towards them."
"I take it you're going to kill me then?"
"Yes. But that comes later. First, we want information."
Sydney spat blood out onto the floor, narrowly missing his shiny black shoes. Simon grinned.
"Pity. It seems your aim's off, Ms. Bristow."
She grinned back. And then spat in his face. Simon's grin disappeared while her's widened. He slowly reached a hand up to wipe the blood off of his nose and cheek.
"Fine. If you want it that way, I'll leave you here and come back later."
"Too chicken to torture me yourself, are we Si?" She tilted her head, still grinning.
"Oh, I just don't want any blood on my nice suit. But someone else will be coming in to do the job for me. Have fun Bristow."
And with that, Simon slammed the door behind him and Sydney's grin disappeared. Sure, it was fun messing with him, but she wasn't so sure that he was kidding about the torture part. But she didn't have long to wait. No more than 5 minutes later, the steel door opened and she was once again greeted by the infamous Sark smirk.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Jack Bristow stared at his desk. It had been exactly 12 hours, 14 minutes and 32 seconds since Sydney had been scheduled to check in. It wasn't like him to worry often, but he did have a soft spot for his daughter, and he knew that she was never late for anything. Punctuality, that was what Sydney strived for. And now, Jack knew that something was wrong. But nothing he did helped; he had already expressed his concerns to Dixon, but that had been 6 hours ago and the director had been sure that there was just a technical problem. But Jack knew Marshall, and nothing he made ever, ever, had a problem. So he knew that that wasn't the case. No, something was the matter with Sydney. And he had to help.
Searching for his key, Jack unlocked the thin drawer in his desk and took out the cell phone that he never used. Pressing re-dial, he put the phone to his ear and listened to the ringing, glancing around the room to be sure that no one was about to come into his office. Then someone picked up on the other end.
"Yes?"
"I need your help."
"With Sydney, I presume?"
"Of course. She missed her check-in, and I want her back."
"Don't worry, Jack. I already have someone working on it. But I can't guarantee that she'll come back to you. She has to choose her own path, you know."
"I know, you don't have to remind me. Just get her out of the hands of whoever has her. Contact me when you've extracted her and I'll come find you."
"I'll make sure she gets out. That's all I can promise."
Jack hung up. He didn't like what he had to do, but he did have to do it. After all, he was Jack Bristow. And Jack Bristow got what he wanted. Always.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Well, hello again Sydney."
"You know, I've been thinking Sark," she grinned and he closed the door.
"And what have you been thinking about?" Seeing her glance around the room he added, "I have rerouted the feed again. You don't believe that I'm that incapable do you?"
"Of course not." Sydney tried on a smirk of her own. "I've been thinking about the fact that you seem to be on a first name basis with me. And I don't think it's fair that you know my first name, but I do not have the honor, or shall we say privilege, of knowing yours."
"Ah well, that will have to wait for later. Right now I'm supposed to be torturing you." Sark sat down on the only stool in the room and leaned backwards against the wall.
"You don't look like you're here to torture, Sark. Instead, if I were that naïve, I would think that you'd come here for a nice civilized chat."
"But of course, Sydney, love. What else would I have come for?" He smiled. "Do you have an answer to my question?"
Sydney closed her eyes, a million ideas running through her head at once. Simon's serious gaze had unnerved her, she was fairly sure now that he would kill her, after torturing everything out of her first of course. And it didn't seem as if the CIA could get her out of this one. She always knew a day like this would come; when she would have to decide between the life she knew and a new one. But now the truth was, she didn't have a life she knew anymore. Her memories were all two years old and so much had changed since then. Almost everything, in fact. Realizing she had nothing to lose, Sydney opened her eyes and glanced at Sark. He was waiting patiently, still leaning against the wall.
"Yes," she whispered, so soft he couldn't even hear her.
Sark stood up and walked close to her and knelt down. "What?"
"Yes," Sydney said louder, more sure of himself. "Yes, I'll do it. I'll come and work with you."
"I'm glad that that's the decision you've made, Sydney. I'll devise a plan to get you out of here, sometime soon. Now," he paused. "Since I'm supposed to be torturing you..." Sark left his sentence unfinished.
"I understand; you have to make it seem real. Just try to make it hurt too much, would ya?" She smiled grimly.
Sark took a moment to compose himself while Sydney waited. Then his fist lashed out, catching her eye. Sydney fell backwards onto the cot and vaguely heard the door shut. He was gone. And Sydney couldn't help but think that her freedom was walking out the door with him.