BEST ENEMIES | PART FOUR
A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this out. I had planned things for Allison but she somehow warped them. Sadly, a fight ensued. Don't worry. We're both still alive. It just took me a little longer than I had planned to get this done.
* * *
The following morning was. . .well, weird. To be eating breakfast with someone who wasn't--but still looked like--Francie, to see her almost happy with Simon, instead of Will. it was like her world had been turned on it's axis. She wouldn't have been surprised if she looked out the window and the sky was green at this point.
"Good eggs." Allison remarked, breaking the 6 minute, 24 second silence. She punctuated the statement by another healthy forkful.
Simon pointedly gazed at Sark and Sydney's end of the table. Sark, in return, made a show of flipping the full-paged newspaper over and ignored the rest of the table entirely. Typical. When the man had a situation he didn't like, and for whatever reason, couldn't change--he did his best to pretend it wasn't happening. Over the course of time, he'd perfected the minor talent into an art.
Anyone watching them right now would have almost assumed he wasn't even there.
"Yes. They are good. The cheese bits really make it, though."
Sydney pushed the scrambled eggs around on her plate. "I'm allergic to cheese."
With that, Allison pushed back her chair and left the room. Simon gave the couple a dirty look and went after her.
Finally, Sark put down his papers. "Fabulous eggs. I didn't know you were allergic to cheese, Love."
"I'm not."
* * *
He found her standing on one of the three balconies in the warehouse. The funny thing about warehouses was that they were usually big and boring. But this one had two converted master living quarters, each with balconies and full bath and sitting rooms. The other was just outside the kitchen, overlooking the busy street.
Simon allowed his shoulder to rest comfortably against hers, trying not to take offense when she made no move to reciprocate the feelings. He saw the warring emotion on her face and knew she was about to do something very rare. Open up. About herself. He thought it would be best not to say anything until she got out what she wanted to say.
"I know," she began, in such a stilted tone of voice Simon wanted to put his arms around her to make it easier. "--I know, after the Covenant found me and used the Rambaldi manuscripts to find a cure, and healed me--I was a mess. And it took me a very long time to get back to some façade of normal. It took us even longer to get here."
He reflected about the time they'd spent, pushing her back into fighting form, getting her ready for field missions again, but most of all--giving her back to herself. Making her Allison Doren again, instead of Francie Calfo. It had been back-breaking work, but they had done it. And then sealed the celebration with a *real* celebration.
"I had to become me again before I would even consider getting into anything with you. Tippin was still imprinted in my memory, and as much as I wanted to just erase him, I knew I couldn't. And we both knew it."
Now she turned to him, with fury raging in her eyes and it was all he could do not to step away. "But I swear, Si. I see Sydney, and it all comes rushing back. Despite everything I do to stop it--I find myself becoming *her* again. For Sydney. So she can breathe a little easier. I can't be all sugar and smiles again. I never could. I tried last night and it just felt. weird. But she's doing this to me--and I'm *not* going to let it happen."
She pulled a gun out of her pocket and shot twice into the air.
He watched as two birds plummeted to the ground. She followed their flight with a dark look on her face and looked grimly satisfied as she left him alone.
Simon sighed heavily and prayed that he wasn't making a mistake by staying here, with Sark. He'd come to a sort of tentative friendship with the man, and god knew he cared about what happened to Sydney, but if it meant the two of them or Allison, he'd have to side with Allison.
She had come into his life more than a year ago and suddenly the line between business and associate had taken on two very different meanings. The line had been blurred. And neither of them cared. Neither did their occasional employer. Most were actually happy that they were a package deal. Two for the price of one.
And until Sydney and Sark had come along, they were the best team on the market.
Freelancing had been their skill and they worked very well together. Allison usually oversaw the technical matters of the mission, saw into security and things like that. Simon was the people man. He went and directly met with each client, made sure they weren't evil people either of them had double-crossed in the past, and that they had the means to follow through with payment.
But after recognizing Sydney in the bedroom, that had all changed.
* * *
~ SIX MONTHS PREVIOUSLY~
"I say we kill her."
Simon shot her an annoyed look. "Allie. We can't just *off* her. He's paying us to find her."
"So? We found her. Job completed. Now we kill her."
"Not a possibility, babe. He'd be furious."
She threw her hands up in the air and started to pace. "Like it really matters! What's he going to do, send us poisoned prison food? They don't exactly give you money to FedEx your leftovers to your friends in Europe. Especially when those said friends are among that country's most wanted list."
He sat and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "We're not killing her. I at least want to find out what she knows. And why she was going by the name of Julia. It's not on our list of alias's she used before, and it wasn't intel passed along to us. Which means whatever she's been doing the past few months--the reason we couldn't find her--was because she's been someone else all along. We were looking for an entirely different person. The wrong one." He looked up at her with a gleam in his eye. "Go find out everything you can about Julia Thorne."
Allison raised an eyebrow. "You know her last name, now?"
"Searched her. It's amazing where people put things nowadays." He could see the jealous look start to appear in her eyes and he added, "Please. I'd like to know who we're dealing with before she wakes up."
*
(Two days later.)
What little they found wasn't very enlightening. But it did clear a few things up.
"So the Covenant must have had you both at the same time. Only, you weren't the woman in Rambaldi's prophecy, so they tested all the healing processes on you before they used it on her. Once you healed, you were free to go. But she was totally reconstructed. Anyone in this business knew her reputation, how valueable she was. And they knew she could be a perfect assassin."
"So that's what they trained her for?"
"It appears so, but there are a few loose ends."
"Like?" Allison was getting impatient and very tired of worrying about a woman who'd shot her three times in the chest. It was hard to not take that personally.
"Such as, why was she my contact? Rather, *was* she my contact? Perhaps she killed the real one. And if so, what was she looking for? What was she trained to look for?"
Allison slammed her gun down on the metal table. "I don't know! And frankly, I don't care! Aren't you just a little freaked out that he's risking his life to come see her? They were never in a relationship, they had a very strange past, full of almost-killings and threats--it just seems weird that he's willing to make such a sacrifice. If they ever find him again--"
"I'll be killed." A smooth, accented voice answered from the doorway, light spilling around his silhouette.
Her heart jumped into her throat. "Sark."
"Hello, Allie." He moved in his usual confidant gait and shook Simon's hand firmly. "Thank you for taking care of this. How is she?"
"We've been keeping her mildly sedated--nothing serious, mind you-- but enough to keep her sleeping. Right now, the best thing for her is to get some rest."
"Why is that?"
"Because it's what I had to do for the first couple of days."
Sark's gaze shifted to Allison. "You appear remarkably well for a woman presumed dead."
It hurt her that he could be so aloof and calculating towards her and yet willing to cross the ocean for a woman who'd undoubtedly made his life hell. God knew she'd messed with enough of his jobs to drive a person insane. He still had the scar from the ice pick.
"I'm alive," she cuttingly replied, "No thanks to you."
"Yes, because there was ever so much I could assist you will while being held in CIA custody."
"And yet you're here," she tilted her head in consideration. "Amazing, isn't it?"
Simon rolled his eyes at their behavior and leaned against the far wall. "Are you two finished yet?"
"No." They answered.
"Fine, fine," he put his hands up in defense, gearing up to wait out the long situation. "How are you here, mate? Thought you were locked up for all eternity."
"It's been taken care of." Sark quietly replied in a tone that brooked no questions.
Allison would have made some sarcastic remark about his methods, or why he hadn't yet requested a glass of Petruse, something he more than longed for after his stay in a cell of desolation and he welcomed a distraction.
Just not the form it came in.
A loud commotion sounded from their right and they looked to see a struggling Sydney Bristow crashing though the door.
"Thought you could keep me asleep," her voice was slurred as she headed for Simon. "Truth is, the thought of being any where near your body turned me off more than cows in India. And I just didn't want to see your face any more. So I let you stick the needles in me, cause I just didn't care. Now I do."
Simon looked uninterested. "Well then, it appears our feelings run the same way. Always thought you were a forward little bit, sticking your tongue down my throat before we'd even been properly introduced."
"Like you cared," she retorted, a familiar fire coming back into her eyes. She must have felt his eyes on her for abruptly her gaze shifted.
"Well, well. If it isn't the reckless blonde with a passion for wine."
Sark let the usual smirk fall into place. "If it isn't Miss Bristow, suffering from what appears to be a killer hangover."
"I am not--hic--" she pointed a shaky finger at him, "--hung--hic-hic- over."
As a series of hiccups left her in a fit of giggles, Sark rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Allison. She refused to meet his look and instead wandered around the room.
"I killed, you know."
The three remaining sane people gave her their full attention. "Lots of people I killed. But it doesn't matter. It washes away and no one cares. They have families, but they will learn to get over it. I always did."
She walked over to Sark on unsteady feet and shook her finger again. "But you--you might have shed a tear or two. After all, your old man left you lots of money."
"I'm afraid you're mistaken. My father is dead. He has been for quite some time." Sark answered softly, letting them all know this conversation was to go no further.
"Yep," she grinned lopsidedly. "He's dead. Killed him myself. I wish everyone would be so willing to open the door. Might make my job a lot easier."
He was suddenly gripping her shoulders with brute force that almost brought tears to her eyes. "What are you talking about? Tell me. *Now*!"
"You're hurting my arms," she whined, completely unaware that Allison now had a gun trained on the back of her head, that Sark was ready to do her in himself. His grip loosened infinitesimally and she gave him a look. "Don't know why you want to hurt me so bad. All I did was my job. Same as you. Same as alway--" She hissed in great pain and flung away his hands easily to press her fingers to her temples. For some reason, she seemed to be in unexplainable pain, and he wanted to help her.
Not knowing what to do, he looked at Allison for guidance.
"Don't give me that look. I don't know what's going on with her. I also don't remember this happening to me."
Sark leaned down to look in her eyes when she snapped her head up so quickly he nearly got his jaw clipped. The brandy color was clear and tired, but he recognized it as her.
She frowned. "I know you. You're. you're." she rubbed distractedly at her head and squinted in earnest. "Sark. You are Sark."
"Yes, that is correct."
"Why are you here?"
Disorientation was really not her best look. "Let's just say I've come for a visit."
"But I thought--you were captured. You're supposed to be locked in a cell and I'm supposed to be with Vaughn in Santa Barbara."
"And yet here you are."
The fog in her eyes cleared and she appeared to be filtering through her memories. "I don't remember a thing. must have really hit my head when I fell."
"Either that, or you're doing a hell of a time trying to keep out unwanted memories. It appears, Miss Bristow, that you've recently come back from killing my father. And I want to know what you'd do such a thing."
Her face went very pale. She started to shake. Sark had just enough time to catch her before she fainted.
He looked down at the fallen woman in his arms. "Allison, you need to get out of here. Take a vacation. Lock yourself in your room. I don't care. But I don't want to see you. Is that clear?" She was going to argue, he could read it in her stance, and he curtly added, "Let's not forget who signs the checks, shall we?"
Simon opened his mouth to protest and Sark refused to take his eyes off Sydney while answering, "Make sure she's not seen. And then make yourself useful and tell me what the hell is going on here. And why Sydney Bristow would kill my father; a man I've never even met, but somehow am beginning to feel sorry for."
* * *
Dun dun DUN!!!
There ya go! Enjoy and review, please!
A/N: Sorry it took so long to get this out. I had planned things for Allison but she somehow warped them. Sadly, a fight ensued. Don't worry. We're both still alive. It just took me a little longer than I had planned to get this done.
* * *
The following morning was. . .well, weird. To be eating breakfast with someone who wasn't--but still looked like--Francie, to see her almost happy with Simon, instead of Will. it was like her world had been turned on it's axis. She wouldn't have been surprised if she looked out the window and the sky was green at this point.
"Good eggs." Allison remarked, breaking the 6 minute, 24 second silence. She punctuated the statement by another healthy forkful.
Simon pointedly gazed at Sark and Sydney's end of the table. Sark, in return, made a show of flipping the full-paged newspaper over and ignored the rest of the table entirely. Typical. When the man had a situation he didn't like, and for whatever reason, couldn't change--he did his best to pretend it wasn't happening. Over the course of time, he'd perfected the minor talent into an art.
Anyone watching them right now would have almost assumed he wasn't even there.
"Yes. They are good. The cheese bits really make it, though."
Sydney pushed the scrambled eggs around on her plate. "I'm allergic to cheese."
With that, Allison pushed back her chair and left the room. Simon gave the couple a dirty look and went after her.
Finally, Sark put down his papers. "Fabulous eggs. I didn't know you were allergic to cheese, Love."
"I'm not."
* * *
He found her standing on one of the three balconies in the warehouse. The funny thing about warehouses was that they were usually big and boring. But this one had two converted master living quarters, each with balconies and full bath and sitting rooms. The other was just outside the kitchen, overlooking the busy street.
Simon allowed his shoulder to rest comfortably against hers, trying not to take offense when she made no move to reciprocate the feelings. He saw the warring emotion on her face and knew she was about to do something very rare. Open up. About herself. He thought it would be best not to say anything until she got out what she wanted to say.
"I know," she began, in such a stilted tone of voice Simon wanted to put his arms around her to make it easier. "--I know, after the Covenant found me and used the Rambaldi manuscripts to find a cure, and healed me--I was a mess. And it took me a very long time to get back to some façade of normal. It took us even longer to get here."
He reflected about the time they'd spent, pushing her back into fighting form, getting her ready for field missions again, but most of all--giving her back to herself. Making her Allison Doren again, instead of Francie Calfo. It had been back-breaking work, but they had done it. And then sealed the celebration with a *real* celebration.
"I had to become me again before I would even consider getting into anything with you. Tippin was still imprinted in my memory, and as much as I wanted to just erase him, I knew I couldn't. And we both knew it."
Now she turned to him, with fury raging in her eyes and it was all he could do not to step away. "But I swear, Si. I see Sydney, and it all comes rushing back. Despite everything I do to stop it--I find myself becoming *her* again. For Sydney. So she can breathe a little easier. I can't be all sugar and smiles again. I never could. I tried last night and it just felt. weird. But she's doing this to me--and I'm *not* going to let it happen."
She pulled a gun out of her pocket and shot twice into the air.
He watched as two birds plummeted to the ground. She followed their flight with a dark look on her face and looked grimly satisfied as she left him alone.
Simon sighed heavily and prayed that he wasn't making a mistake by staying here, with Sark. He'd come to a sort of tentative friendship with the man, and god knew he cared about what happened to Sydney, but if it meant the two of them or Allison, he'd have to side with Allison.
She had come into his life more than a year ago and suddenly the line between business and associate had taken on two very different meanings. The line had been blurred. And neither of them cared. Neither did their occasional employer. Most were actually happy that they were a package deal. Two for the price of one.
And until Sydney and Sark had come along, they were the best team on the market.
Freelancing had been their skill and they worked very well together. Allison usually oversaw the technical matters of the mission, saw into security and things like that. Simon was the people man. He went and directly met with each client, made sure they weren't evil people either of them had double-crossed in the past, and that they had the means to follow through with payment.
But after recognizing Sydney in the bedroom, that had all changed.
* * *
~ SIX MONTHS PREVIOUSLY~
"I say we kill her."
Simon shot her an annoyed look. "Allie. We can't just *off* her. He's paying us to find her."
"So? We found her. Job completed. Now we kill her."
"Not a possibility, babe. He'd be furious."
She threw her hands up in the air and started to pace. "Like it really matters! What's he going to do, send us poisoned prison food? They don't exactly give you money to FedEx your leftovers to your friends in Europe. Especially when those said friends are among that country's most wanted list."
He sat and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "We're not killing her. I at least want to find out what she knows. And why she was going by the name of Julia. It's not on our list of alias's she used before, and it wasn't intel passed along to us. Which means whatever she's been doing the past few months--the reason we couldn't find her--was because she's been someone else all along. We were looking for an entirely different person. The wrong one." He looked up at her with a gleam in his eye. "Go find out everything you can about Julia Thorne."
Allison raised an eyebrow. "You know her last name, now?"
"Searched her. It's amazing where people put things nowadays." He could see the jealous look start to appear in her eyes and he added, "Please. I'd like to know who we're dealing with before she wakes up."
*
(Two days later.)
What little they found wasn't very enlightening. But it did clear a few things up.
"So the Covenant must have had you both at the same time. Only, you weren't the woman in Rambaldi's prophecy, so they tested all the healing processes on you before they used it on her. Once you healed, you were free to go. But she was totally reconstructed. Anyone in this business knew her reputation, how valueable she was. And they knew she could be a perfect assassin."
"So that's what they trained her for?"
"It appears so, but there are a few loose ends."
"Like?" Allison was getting impatient and very tired of worrying about a woman who'd shot her three times in the chest. It was hard to not take that personally.
"Such as, why was she my contact? Rather, *was* she my contact? Perhaps she killed the real one. And if so, what was she looking for? What was she trained to look for?"
Allison slammed her gun down on the metal table. "I don't know! And frankly, I don't care! Aren't you just a little freaked out that he's risking his life to come see her? They were never in a relationship, they had a very strange past, full of almost-killings and threats--it just seems weird that he's willing to make such a sacrifice. If they ever find him again--"
"I'll be killed." A smooth, accented voice answered from the doorway, light spilling around his silhouette.
Her heart jumped into her throat. "Sark."
"Hello, Allie." He moved in his usual confidant gait and shook Simon's hand firmly. "Thank you for taking care of this. How is she?"
"We've been keeping her mildly sedated--nothing serious, mind you-- but enough to keep her sleeping. Right now, the best thing for her is to get some rest."
"Why is that?"
"Because it's what I had to do for the first couple of days."
Sark's gaze shifted to Allison. "You appear remarkably well for a woman presumed dead."
It hurt her that he could be so aloof and calculating towards her and yet willing to cross the ocean for a woman who'd undoubtedly made his life hell. God knew she'd messed with enough of his jobs to drive a person insane. He still had the scar from the ice pick.
"I'm alive," she cuttingly replied, "No thanks to you."
"Yes, because there was ever so much I could assist you will while being held in CIA custody."
"And yet you're here," she tilted her head in consideration. "Amazing, isn't it?"
Simon rolled his eyes at their behavior and leaned against the far wall. "Are you two finished yet?"
"No." They answered.
"Fine, fine," he put his hands up in defense, gearing up to wait out the long situation. "How are you here, mate? Thought you were locked up for all eternity."
"It's been taken care of." Sark quietly replied in a tone that brooked no questions.
Allison would have made some sarcastic remark about his methods, or why he hadn't yet requested a glass of Petruse, something he more than longed for after his stay in a cell of desolation and he welcomed a distraction.
Just not the form it came in.
A loud commotion sounded from their right and they looked to see a struggling Sydney Bristow crashing though the door.
"Thought you could keep me asleep," her voice was slurred as she headed for Simon. "Truth is, the thought of being any where near your body turned me off more than cows in India. And I just didn't want to see your face any more. So I let you stick the needles in me, cause I just didn't care. Now I do."
Simon looked uninterested. "Well then, it appears our feelings run the same way. Always thought you were a forward little bit, sticking your tongue down my throat before we'd even been properly introduced."
"Like you cared," she retorted, a familiar fire coming back into her eyes. She must have felt his eyes on her for abruptly her gaze shifted.
"Well, well. If it isn't the reckless blonde with a passion for wine."
Sark let the usual smirk fall into place. "If it isn't Miss Bristow, suffering from what appears to be a killer hangover."
"I am not--hic--" she pointed a shaky finger at him, "--hung--hic-hic- over."
As a series of hiccups left her in a fit of giggles, Sark rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Allison. She refused to meet his look and instead wandered around the room.
"I killed, you know."
The three remaining sane people gave her their full attention. "Lots of people I killed. But it doesn't matter. It washes away and no one cares. They have families, but they will learn to get over it. I always did."
She walked over to Sark on unsteady feet and shook her finger again. "But you--you might have shed a tear or two. After all, your old man left you lots of money."
"I'm afraid you're mistaken. My father is dead. He has been for quite some time." Sark answered softly, letting them all know this conversation was to go no further.
"Yep," she grinned lopsidedly. "He's dead. Killed him myself. I wish everyone would be so willing to open the door. Might make my job a lot easier."
He was suddenly gripping her shoulders with brute force that almost brought tears to her eyes. "What are you talking about? Tell me. *Now*!"
"You're hurting my arms," she whined, completely unaware that Allison now had a gun trained on the back of her head, that Sark was ready to do her in himself. His grip loosened infinitesimally and she gave him a look. "Don't know why you want to hurt me so bad. All I did was my job. Same as you. Same as alway--" She hissed in great pain and flung away his hands easily to press her fingers to her temples. For some reason, she seemed to be in unexplainable pain, and he wanted to help her.
Not knowing what to do, he looked at Allison for guidance.
"Don't give me that look. I don't know what's going on with her. I also don't remember this happening to me."
Sark leaned down to look in her eyes when she snapped her head up so quickly he nearly got his jaw clipped. The brandy color was clear and tired, but he recognized it as her.
She frowned. "I know you. You're. you're." she rubbed distractedly at her head and squinted in earnest. "Sark. You are Sark."
"Yes, that is correct."
"Why are you here?"
Disorientation was really not her best look. "Let's just say I've come for a visit."
"But I thought--you were captured. You're supposed to be locked in a cell and I'm supposed to be with Vaughn in Santa Barbara."
"And yet here you are."
The fog in her eyes cleared and she appeared to be filtering through her memories. "I don't remember a thing. must have really hit my head when I fell."
"Either that, or you're doing a hell of a time trying to keep out unwanted memories. It appears, Miss Bristow, that you've recently come back from killing my father. And I want to know what you'd do such a thing."
Her face went very pale. She started to shake. Sark had just enough time to catch her before she fainted.
He looked down at the fallen woman in his arms. "Allison, you need to get out of here. Take a vacation. Lock yourself in your room. I don't care. But I don't want to see you. Is that clear?" She was going to argue, he could read it in her stance, and he curtly added, "Let's not forget who signs the checks, shall we?"
Simon opened his mouth to protest and Sark refused to take his eyes off Sydney while answering, "Make sure she's not seen. And then make yourself useful and tell me what the hell is going on here. And why Sydney Bristow would kill my father; a man I've never even met, but somehow am beginning to feel sorry for."
* * *
Dun dun DUN!!!
There ya go! Enjoy and review, please!
