She was running; running hard and fast. She could hardly catch her breath.
She couldn't see him, but she could hear him. Sloane. She didn't look
back. Hell was behind her. She had to get away. She looked right and
left. There was no way out. Suddenly, Sark was in front of her. "This
way, Sydney. I can help you." She had nowhere else to go. She ran towards
Sark. She could hear Sloane. "You can't run from your destiny, Sydney,
you have to face it." Suddenly, she was falling. Falling into a deep
chasm of fear and darkness.
Sydney sat up, wet with sweat. That dream again. This was the third time she had experienced it. Ever since she saw Sark. It left her breathless, unsettled, and wanting answers more than ever. She wondered why after four months, she was having dreams like this. Before, there was nothing. Was she trying to remember, or was it just wishful thinking?
There would be no more sleep for her tonight. She arose and prepared for a run. This is becoming a habit, she thought. This morning, however, she did not take her normal route. Before she realized where she was at, the JTF building was in front of her. She used her access code to get inside. No doubt she would be questioned about why she was there at 2:30 am, but she would think of an answer for that later.
She made her way down the halls, on autopilot. A million things were running through her head. How many times had she walked this very path to visit her mother? How many times had she hoped that things would change? Well, they've changed, she thought. Only they certainly weren't the changes she had hoped for. Now Sydney was on her way to see someone equally dangerous. Sark. Funny, she knew he was dangerous, but she didn't care. Not anymore. She made sure to disable the audio. It was fairly easy. The CIA was too lax in their security measures now. Or maybe her desperation made her sharper.
He was awake. He rarely slept anymore, using his time to meditate, plan, and exercise. Even though he had been in custody for two years, he was as sharp minded and strong as ever. Her knew he couldn't afford to be at less than his best when the chance came to take his freedom back. His thoughts flew to Sydney. He had thought of her often, but more than ever in the past three days. After she had shown up in front of the glass walls of his cell, he couldn't get her off of his mind. He hadn't seen her since then, but he knew something would happen soon. He made up his mind. He had worked with Irina in the past to help Sydney. He would continue to do so. She needed him.
That was how Sydney found him. He was doing crunches, apparently deep in thought. He didn't see her at first. Sydney looked at him. Surprising herself a little, she realized that she did not feel the hate for him that she once had. He was as determined as she was. Determined to be free of the cage that imprisoned him. She thought back to her dream. He was there, trying to help her escape Sloane. She didn't know what it meant, but she had been thinking of him since their talk the other day. She watched him. Sweat beaded his brow and the dampness made his blonde hair curl. How did someone so beautiful become so cold and dangerous? He was beautiful, she thought. He looked younger than she remembered. It must be because he was not wearing a rigid suit. And, of course, the sarcastic comments weren't coming out of his mouth at the moment.
"Miss Bristow." Sark broke into her thoughts. His voice registered curiosity. She had caught him off guard. He steadied it. "This is most unexpected. If I had known you were coming, I would have made myself more presentable."
"I don't know why I'm here Sark. I couldn't sleep. I ended up here." She said. She did not mention the fact that she had been thinking of him, dreaming of him. He didn't need to know that. Not now.
"I think you do know." He rose and came closer to the glass. "I'm the only one that you can be honest with now. I'm the only one that understands what you are feeling and what you have to do. I'm one of the only ones that can help you."
Sydney didn't have a reply. She simply stared at him. Even through the glass, she could feel the purpose and energy radiating from him. She caught her breath. There was also something else. There was a connection between them. For a few moments, they stood staring at each other, the air around them electric.
Sark spoke first, breaking the silence. "Speechless? I'll have to mark this day down. Sydney Bristow has nothing to say. I seem to remember when our 'banter' was the highlight of our relationship. I quite enjoyed it, I must say." Sark congratulated himself. No need to let her know what he was feeling. There would be time for that later.
"Do you call what we had a relationship, Sark? I hated you. Loathed you. I wanted nothing more than to see you dead." What was wrong with her? She was acting like a schoolgirl. She was out of breath, her heart beating rapidly.
"Yet you never killed me, Sydney." He had let her name slip from his lips. He mentally berated himself, but he liked the way it sounded. He always thought of her as Sydney. He watched as her eyes widened in surprise.
Sark had never used just her first name before. It unsettled her a bit. "No, I didn't. Lucky for me now, isn't it?"
"Yes, Sydney, it is. You don't mind my using your first name, do you? After all, we will be working together. It's only appropriate. We're the same, you and I. I think you may be starting to realize that now."
Once, Sydney would have thrown that back at him, declaring that she would never be like him. Now, it was different. "Yes, I do realize some things, Sark." She didn't elaborate. "Since you feel that way, don't you think you should share your name?" After all, as you said, we will be working together." Again she had surprised herself. She was actually curious about him. She wanted to know more, to make the connection stronger.
Sark looked at her. She looked tired. Tired and restless. She was still beautiful. There was always something about her. Even now, pale, with dark circles under her eyes, clothes clinging to her from her run, she was still exquisite. He wanted nothing more than to offer her comfort and assurance. To give her some measure of peace. "Aidan." It was only one word, but he felt that he had laid his life open for her to see.
Sydney recognized his sacrifice. For the first time since she had returned she felt connected with someone. How fitting that it should be Sark.Aidan, she mentally corrected herself. She looked at him and tried to convey how grateful she was. 'Be prepared, Aidan. It will come soon."
He tried not to think of how good it was to hear someone speak his name. Especially her. "I'm always prepared, Sydney."
His words sent a shiver down her spine. She felt alive again.
************
Ok, so is anyone interested? If so, please leave a review. That may sound harsh, but the plot bunnies work better if they are fed. (
Thanks!
Sydney sat up, wet with sweat. That dream again. This was the third time she had experienced it. Ever since she saw Sark. It left her breathless, unsettled, and wanting answers more than ever. She wondered why after four months, she was having dreams like this. Before, there was nothing. Was she trying to remember, or was it just wishful thinking?
There would be no more sleep for her tonight. She arose and prepared for a run. This is becoming a habit, she thought. This morning, however, she did not take her normal route. Before she realized where she was at, the JTF building was in front of her. She used her access code to get inside. No doubt she would be questioned about why she was there at 2:30 am, but she would think of an answer for that later.
She made her way down the halls, on autopilot. A million things were running through her head. How many times had she walked this very path to visit her mother? How many times had she hoped that things would change? Well, they've changed, she thought. Only they certainly weren't the changes she had hoped for. Now Sydney was on her way to see someone equally dangerous. Sark. Funny, she knew he was dangerous, but she didn't care. Not anymore. She made sure to disable the audio. It was fairly easy. The CIA was too lax in their security measures now. Or maybe her desperation made her sharper.
He was awake. He rarely slept anymore, using his time to meditate, plan, and exercise. Even though he had been in custody for two years, he was as sharp minded and strong as ever. Her knew he couldn't afford to be at less than his best when the chance came to take his freedom back. His thoughts flew to Sydney. He had thought of her often, but more than ever in the past three days. After she had shown up in front of the glass walls of his cell, he couldn't get her off of his mind. He hadn't seen her since then, but he knew something would happen soon. He made up his mind. He had worked with Irina in the past to help Sydney. He would continue to do so. She needed him.
That was how Sydney found him. He was doing crunches, apparently deep in thought. He didn't see her at first. Sydney looked at him. Surprising herself a little, she realized that she did not feel the hate for him that she once had. He was as determined as she was. Determined to be free of the cage that imprisoned him. She thought back to her dream. He was there, trying to help her escape Sloane. She didn't know what it meant, but she had been thinking of him since their talk the other day. She watched him. Sweat beaded his brow and the dampness made his blonde hair curl. How did someone so beautiful become so cold and dangerous? He was beautiful, she thought. He looked younger than she remembered. It must be because he was not wearing a rigid suit. And, of course, the sarcastic comments weren't coming out of his mouth at the moment.
"Miss Bristow." Sark broke into her thoughts. His voice registered curiosity. She had caught him off guard. He steadied it. "This is most unexpected. If I had known you were coming, I would have made myself more presentable."
"I don't know why I'm here Sark. I couldn't sleep. I ended up here." She said. She did not mention the fact that she had been thinking of him, dreaming of him. He didn't need to know that. Not now.
"I think you do know." He rose and came closer to the glass. "I'm the only one that you can be honest with now. I'm the only one that understands what you are feeling and what you have to do. I'm one of the only ones that can help you."
Sydney didn't have a reply. She simply stared at him. Even through the glass, she could feel the purpose and energy radiating from him. She caught her breath. There was also something else. There was a connection between them. For a few moments, they stood staring at each other, the air around them electric.
Sark spoke first, breaking the silence. "Speechless? I'll have to mark this day down. Sydney Bristow has nothing to say. I seem to remember when our 'banter' was the highlight of our relationship. I quite enjoyed it, I must say." Sark congratulated himself. No need to let her know what he was feeling. There would be time for that later.
"Do you call what we had a relationship, Sark? I hated you. Loathed you. I wanted nothing more than to see you dead." What was wrong with her? She was acting like a schoolgirl. She was out of breath, her heart beating rapidly.
"Yet you never killed me, Sydney." He had let her name slip from his lips. He mentally berated himself, but he liked the way it sounded. He always thought of her as Sydney. He watched as her eyes widened in surprise.
Sark had never used just her first name before. It unsettled her a bit. "No, I didn't. Lucky for me now, isn't it?"
"Yes, Sydney, it is. You don't mind my using your first name, do you? After all, we will be working together. It's only appropriate. We're the same, you and I. I think you may be starting to realize that now."
Once, Sydney would have thrown that back at him, declaring that she would never be like him. Now, it was different. "Yes, I do realize some things, Sark." She didn't elaborate. "Since you feel that way, don't you think you should share your name?" After all, as you said, we will be working together." Again she had surprised herself. She was actually curious about him. She wanted to know more, to make the connection stronger.
Sark looked at her. She looked tired. Tired and restless. She was still beautiful. There was always something about her. Even now, pale, with dark circles under her eyes, clothes clinging to her from her run, she was still exquisite. He wanted nothing more than to offer her comfort and assurance. To give her some measure of peace. "Aidan." It was only one word, but he felt that he had laid his life open for her to see.
Sydney recognized his sacrifice. For the first time since she had returned she felt connected with someone. How fitting that it should be Sark.Aidan, she mentally corrected herself. She looked at him and tried to convey how grateful she was. 'Be prepared, Aidan. It will come soon."
He tried not to think of how good it was to hear someone speak his name. Especially her. "I'm always prepared, Sydney."
His words sent a shiver down her spine. She felt alive again.
************
Ok, so is anyone interested? If so, please leave a review. That may sound harsh, but the plot bunnies work better if they are fed. (
Thanks!