Expected Surprises
Author: PinkyToes
Rated: G-PG
Summary: This is Sarkney. This is supposed to be a story with humor.
Please understand that the people may be out of character. I understand
that Alias has a relatively serious plot, but gosh....Sarkney is just
unbelievably entertaining. If any of you pay attention to the script, you
would know that many of the conversations between Sydney and Sark are
unbelievably witty and funny. Try to ignore the shooting and stabbing.
They are adversaries after all. But, please, if any of you sees no humor
between Sark and Sydney, I suggest you to rewatch all of the episodes of
Alias in which Sark and Sydney interact. You will laugh your head off.
Anyway...on with the story.
Expected Surprise Chapter 1
Sloane had somehow roped her and Sark into working on yet another mission. Idly, she wondered how Dixon was taking this change in partners. He had been working with another blonde lady agent, and he seemed as unhappy as she was about this arrangement. Sighing, Sydney lifted a slim hand up to her forehead, where she tries to massage the built-up tension away. The chances of taking down SD-6 seem bleaker everyday, especially with Sark now as Sloane's little lapdog. The blonde assassin had come in, played with her mind, replaced her partner, annoyed her with unending sarcastic comments, and taken just about every opportunity to remind her that she was in a precarious position. Her attempted murder on Sloane was just another burden on her shoulders.
Closing her eyes, she blocked out everything. The office lights, the bland rooms, the metal desk, the debrief she's supposed to be writing, and most of all, she wanted to block out her thoughts about Sark. He is simply a dreadful creature.
"Agent Bristow. I suggest you open your eyes. Falling asleep in the middle of an office room in the middle of the day is hardly appropriate for an agent as yourself. If you indeed wish to have a little shut eye, I do have an office. I would allow you to borrow it, if it weren't for the thought that you would be having little sleep if we were to be alone in one room."
Oh god. Kill me now.
Opening her eyes, she mustered as much hatred as she could into one glare. They burned with anger and irritation as they settled on the smirking man before her. However, she doesn't expect him to back down from her look of death. In fact, she expects his smirk will get even bigger.
It did.
"What, no response Ms. Bristow? Hmm, it's worse than I thought. Perhaps, you should take my office. For your sake, I will not be present in the room, so as to ensure you receive a proper rest. We will be going to Argentina soon. Wouldn't want to disappoint Mr. Sloane now would we?"
Seeing her efforts into directing her absolute hate at him were futile, Sydney backed down just a bit. Placing her palms flat on the table, she hoisted herself up until she was eye to eye with Sark.
"Mr. Sark. It is unfortunate, but I must pass your offer. As you can see – "gesturing to the papers on her desk-"I have a lot of work to do. So, if you'll please.." At this, she made a shooing motion, hoping he can catch the hint. If not, she will be forced to take higher measurers, perhaps split his head with a karate chop. Hmm....that is a possibility.
Sark stared at the slim hand, trying to comprehend this waving motion. Is she doing what he thinks she's doing? Trying to brush him off? Hilarious. Unbelievable. Impossible. He wasn't going to leave that easily.
"Does this mean that if such large amounts of tedious work weren't on your desk, you would accept my offer?"
Incredulously, Sydney stopped waving him off and looked at him with shock. Does this guy just never get a clue? Briefly, she reflected on her actions for the past five minutes. Hmm...stare at him with hateful eyes. Check. Reject his offer of performing unethical sexual activities in his office. Check. Drop hints about his unwanted presence. Check. Maybe Sark isn't as sharp as she thought.
Meanwhile, Sark looked wonderingly as a glazed look pass through Sydney's eyes. That brief look of shock on her face had brought absolute delight. However, as quickly as it came, it disappeared. And now, it seems she's on another planet. Frustrated that her attention was elsewhere, he laid a hand on her shoulder and patted it. Not once. Not twice. But three times.
Three had always been a good number. Yeah.
Sydney snapped out of her reminiscing when she felt a hand on her shoulder. And it patted her three times. Like she was some sort of dog. She was definitely not a dog.
"I'm not your pet, Sark. You hardly need to pat me to get my attention. Now, what is it that you want? As I've told you, I'm very busy." At this, she once again gestured to her papers. Sark followed her hand, stared at the paper for a few moments, before shrugging. Not once. Not twice. But three times.
"You shrugged three times."
"You are very observant."
"Most people only shrug once."
"Only if they're lazy."
"Usually once is enough to get the message of *shrugging* across."
"Agent Bristow, I like to be thorough when I give people impressions. Shrugging *three* times will ensure others the message that I don't care very much for what they are trying to tell me. In your case, for example, I shrugged *three* times because I found little meaning in your gesturing to me your pile of papers. I, for one, finished my debriefs hours earlier. Therefore, I have little sympathy for your piled-up work."
Sydney narrowed her eyes. That had sounded like a reprimand to her. She does not like to be reprimanded by anyone. Least of all her sworn enemy.
Straightening, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. Sark's eyes followed her actions, finding her hardened eyes and rigid stance entertaining. Cute even. He barely restrained a chuckle. God, what a little firebird she is.
Pretending to be interested in what time it is, he lifted his undoubtedly top-of-the-line Rolex to his eyes, making sure the office lights glinted off the shiny metal. Sydney rolled her eyes at his ostentatious behavior.
What an ass.
"It seems, Ms. Bristow, our meeting must come to an end. As always, it has been a pleasure conversing with you. Your wit never fails to astound me. I'll see you at the airport bright and early tomorrow morning. I'm sure our trip to Argentina will be memorable, as have been our previous missions. Good day."
With that, the blonde assassin swaggered away with his ridiculously expensive Armani suit, his ridiculously shiny Rolex, and his ridiculously ever-present smirk. Her eyes continue follow him as he turn the corner, heading to Sloane's office no doubt. She failed to hear Dixon come up to her, following the direction of her eyes with a small smile on his face.
"Hello, stranger."
Sydney jumped in shock. Quickly, she flipped around to see Dixon with a knowing look on his face. She quickly scanned his eyes, trying to decipher that look. Years of working with him has taught her that while he seems to be a mellow guy out the outside, a maze of warped thoughts fills his head. It would take forever to figure out a guy like Dixon. But she knows him well, and she knows how to deal with him.
"Hello Dixon! How are you? The wife, the kids, all fine?"
"They're fine, Sydney. And you? Has anybo - *anything* - happen to you recently?"
Sydney caught that slip. Dixon thinks she has a new guy in her life. Phht. Ridiculous. Sure, she had a crush on her handler. But Vaughn has made it clear that they shouldn't work together since CIA protocols prohibit romantic relationships among co-workers. On some level, she agrees with him. But, being lonely for so long has built up impatience in her character. She won't wait for him. Taking SD-6 and the Alliance down will take time, and she doesn't think she can wait that long.
"Nothing much. Sloane just assigned me another assignment to Argentina. Honestly, I was just there last month. Can't I go to Spain or something?"
"Argentina, eh? Who's your partner?"
Surely Dixon didn't need to ask that. Who else would be her partner? Sydney's eyes narrowed, finally catching onto Dixon's thoughts.
Slowly, she responded as if she were teaching a 1st grader the ABC's.
"Saarrrkk. You know, the blonde, cocky, British bastard that none of us trust? The one I've been going on missions with for months now?"
Dixon ignored her deliberate patronization, and focused more on the facts instead.
Sark: British. Blonde. Fairly tall. Considered to be relatively handsome among the female population.(he had to ask his wife for that one) Skilled. Charming. Cocky.
Seems perfect for Sydney to him.
Putting on his most serious mask, Dixon hoped to rope Sydney into expressing her true feelings for Sark. Whatever those feelings are.
"Sydney. Sark has been your partner for a fairly long time now. I am *heartbroken*, believe me I am, that he has somehow replaced me. But, I was just wondering, how is he as a partner? Hmm? Skilled, no? Supportive perhaps?"
Sydney tried. Really, she tried. But, she couldn't stop the giggles that followed Dixon's questions. The way he asked them, with such a deep voice and serious face, was too much. Placing a hand on the wall, she balanced herself as the giggles took over her body. Her stomach was hurting from her laughs, but she couldn't stop. Finally, they trickled down to a few chuckles between breaths. Sighing, she straightened and looked at Dixon with a grin on her face.
"Surely, Dixon, you're not asking about Sark? Sark is what he is! You see him! Walking around like he owns the place with his suit and Rolex, and his accent! And that smirk! It's as if his mouth is stuck in that position, always....*smirking*. Ugh, I dislike that man with a passion."
Dixon frowned. Maybe he misread the situation. Maybe she didn't like Sark, and that her following Sark's profile as he swaggered to Sloane's office was nothing.
Maybe *not*.
"Well, Sydney. You let me know how the mission goes. I've uh...gotta go meet my – hopefully temporary - partner. Have a nice day!"
With that, Dixon walked away whistling a happy tune. Usually, Sydney would be amused at knowing some of Dixon's strange *theories*. But when those ideas are about her, she wasn't as comfortable in hearing them. Especially if they involved her and some annoying person like Sark. Glancing back at her desk, she sighed as she saw the same pile of papers, exactly where she had left them.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was watching her. Quickly, she looked about the room. Finally, to her very left, her eyes landed on the man who was watching her, through the window of his office, what that darn smirk. Seeing that he caught her eye, Sark motioned for her to join him in the office, and placed his hands beneath his head and closed his eyes as he pretended to sleep, recalling the offer he had made earlier today.
Sydney resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What a crude Neanderthal. Keeping eye contact, she pulled out her chair, sat down determinedly, picked up her pen, and made exaggerated motions indicating she's about to start her work.
Sark just smirked wider.
The temptation is too strong. Sydney rolled her eyes..... and groaned as the blonde's blue eyes glittered in amusement. Looking down at her work, she vowed to not speak to him at all for the rest of the day. Or look at him.
Breaking her vow already, she took one peek at him, but was greeted with the window blinds instead. All the better. Now she can concentrate.
Now.....what happened in Moscow?
Expected Surprise Chapter 1
Sloane had somehow roped her and Sark into working on yet another mission. Idly, she wondered how Dixon was taking this change in partners. He had been working with another blonde lady agent, and he seemed as unhappy as she was about this arrangement. Sighing, Sydney lifted a slim hand up to her forehead, where she tries to massage the built-up tension away. The chances of taking down SD-6 seem bleaker everyday, especially with Sark now as Sloane's little lapdog. The blonde assassin had come in, played with her mind, replaced her partner, annoyed her with unending sarcastic comments, and taken just about every opportunity to remind her that she was in a precarious position. Her attempted murder on Sloane was just another burden on her shoulders.
Closing her eyes, she blocked out everything. The office lights, the bland rooms, the metal desk, the debrief she's supposed to be writing, and most of all, she wanted to block out her thoughts about Sark. He is simply a dreadful creature.
"Agent Bristow. I suggest you open your eyes. Falling asleep in the middle of an office room in the middle of the day is hardly appropriate for an agent as yourself. If you indeed wish to have a little shut eye, I do have an office. I would allow you to borrow it, if it weren't for the thought that you would be having little sleep if we were to be alone in one room."
Oh god. Kill me now.
Opening her eyes, she mustered as much hatred as she could into one glare. They burned with anger and irritation as they settled on the smirking man before her. However, she doesn't expect him to back down from her look of death. In fact, she expects his smirk will get even bigger.
It did.
"What, no response Ms. Bristow? Hmm, it's worse than I thought. Perhaps, you should take my office. For your sake, I will not be present in the room, so as to ensure you receive a proper rest. We will be going to Argentina soon. Wouldn't want to disappoint Mr. Sloane now would we?"
Seeing her efforts into directing her absolute hate at him were futile, Sydney backed down just a bit. Placing her palms flat on the table, she hoisted herself up until she was eye to eye with Sark.
"Mr. Sark. It is unfortunate, but I must pass your offer. As you can see – "gesturing to the papers on her desk-"I have a lot of work to do. So, if you'll please.." At this, she made a shooing motion, hoping he can catch the hint. If not, she will be forced to take higher measurers, perhaps split his head with a karate chop. Hmm....that is a possibility.
Sark stared at the slim hand, trying to comprehend this waving motion. Is she doing what he thinks she's doing? Trying to brush him off? Hilarious. Unbelievable. Impossible. He wasn't going to leave that easily.
"Does this mean that if such large amounts of tedious work weren't on your desk, you would accept my offer?"
Incredulously, Sydney stopped waving him off and looked at him with shock. Does this guy just never get a clue? Briefly, she reflected on her actions for the past five minutes. Hmm...stare at him with hateful eyes. Check. Reject his offer of performing unethical sexual activities in his office. Check. Drop hints about his unwanted presence. Check. Maybe Sark isn't as sharp as she thought.
Meanwhile, Sark looked wonderingly as a glazed look pass through Sydney's eyes. That brief look of shock on her face had brought absolute delight. However, as quickly as it came, it disappeared. And now, it seems she's on another planet. Frustrated that her attention was elsewhere, he laid a hand on her shoulder and patted it. Not once. Not twice. But three times.
Three had always been a good number. Yeah.
Sydney snapped out of her reminiscing when she felt a hand on her shoulder. And it patted her three times. Like she was some sort of dog. She was definitely not a dog.
"I'm not your pet, Sark. You hardly need to pat me to get my attention. Now, what is it that you want? As I've told you, I'm very busy." At this, she once again gestured to her papers. Sark followed her hand, stared at the paper for a few moments, before shrugging. Not once. Not twice. But three times.
"You shrugged three times."
"You are very observant."
"Most people only shrug once."
"Only if they're lazy."
"Usually once is enough to get the message of *shrugging* across."
"Agent Bristow, I like to be thorough when I give people impressions. Shrugging *three* times will ensure others the message that I don't care very much for what they are trying to tell me. In your case, for example, I shrugged *three* times because I found little meaning in your gesturing to me your pile of papers. I, for one, finished my debriefs hours earlier. Therefore, I have little sympathy for your piled-up work."
Sydney narrowed her eyes. That had sounded like a reprimand to her. She does not like to be reprimanded by anyone. Least of all her sworn enemy.
Straightening, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. Sark's eyes followed her actions, finding her hardened eyes and rigid stance entertaining. Cute even. He barely restrained a chuckle. God, what a little firebird she is.
Pretending to be interested in what time it is, he lifted his undoubtedly top-of-the-line Rolex to his eyes, making sure the office lights glinted off the shiny metal. Sydney rolled her eyes at his ostentatious behavior.
What an ass.
"It seems, Ms. Bristow, our meeting must come to an end. As always, it has been a pleasure conversing with you. Your wit never fails to astound me. I'll see you at the airport bright and early tomorrow morning. I'm sure our trip to Argentina will be memorable, as have been our previous missions. Good day."
With that, the blonde assassin swaggered away with his ridiculously expensive Armani suit, his ridiculously shiny Rolex, and his ridiculously ever-present smirk. Her eyes continue follow him as he turn the corner, heading to Sloane's office no doubt. She failed to hear Dixon come up to her, following the direction of her eyes with a small smile on his face.
"Hello, stranger."
Sydney jumped in shock. Quickly, she flipped around to see Dixon with a knowing look on his face. She quickly scanned his eyes, trying to decipher that look. Years of working with him has taught her that while he seems to be a mellow guy out the outside, a maze of warped thoughts fills his head. It would take forever to figure out a guy like Dixon. But she knows him well, and she knows how to deal with him.
"Hello Dixon! How are you? The wife, the kids, all fine?"
"They're fine, Sydney. And you? Has anybo - *anything* - happen to you recently?"
Sydney caught that slip. Dixon thinks she has a new guy in her life. Phht. Ridiculous. Sure, she had a crush on her handler. But Vaughn has made it clear that they shouldn't work together since CIA protocols prohibit romantic relationships among co-workers. On some level, she agrees with him. But, being lonely for so long has built up impatience in her character. She won't wait for him. Taking SD-6 and the Alliance down will take time, and she doesn't think she can wait that long.
"Nothing much. Sloane just assigned me another assignment to Argentina. Honestly, I was just there last month. Can't I go to Spain or something?"
"Argentina, eh? Who's your partner?"
Surely Dixon didn't need to ask that. Who else would be her partner? Sydney's eyes narrowed, finally catching onto Dixon's thoughts.
Slowly, she responded as if she were teaching a 1st grader the ABC's.
"Saarrrkk. You know, the blonde, cocky, British bastard that none of us trust? The one I've been going on missions with for months now?"
Dixon ignored her deliberate patronization, and focused more on the facts instead.
Sark: British. Blonde. Fairly tall. Considered to be relatively handsome among the female population.(he had to ask his wife for that one) Skilled. Charming. Cocky.
Seems perfect for Sydney to him.
Putting on his most serious mask, Dixon hoped to rope Sydney into expressing her true feelings for Sark. Whatever those feelings are.
"Sydney. Sark has been your partner for a fairly long time now. I am *heartbroken*, believe me I am, that he has somehow replaced me. But, I was just wondering, how is he as a partner? Hmm? Skilled, no? Supportive perhaps?"
Sydney tried. Really, she tried. But, she couldn't stop the giggles that followed Dixon's questions. The way he asked them, with such a deep voice and serious face, was too much. Placing a hand on the wall, she balanced herself as the giggles took over her body. Her stomach was hurting from her laughs, but she couldn't stop. Finally, they trickled down to a few chuckles between breaths. Sighing, she straightened and looked at Dixon with a grin on her face.
"Surely, Dixon, you're not asking about Sark? Sark is what he is! You see him! Walking around like he owns the place with his suit and Rolex, and his accent! And that smirk! It's as if his mouth is stuck in that position, always....*smirking*. Ugh, I dislike that man with a passion."
Dixon frowned. Maybe he misread the situation. Maybe she didn't like Sark, and that her following Sark's profile as he swaggered to Sloane's office was nothing.
Maybe *not*.
"Well, Sydney. You let me know how the mission goes. I've uh...gotta go meet my – hopefully temporary - partner. Have a nice day!"
With that, Dixon walked away whistling a happy tune. Usually, Sydney would be amused at knowing some of Dixon's strange *theories*. But when those ideas are about her, she wasn't as comfortable in hearing them. Especially if they involved her and some annoying person like Sark. Glancing back at her desk, she sighed as she saw the same pile of papers, exactly where she had left them.
Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was watching her. Quickly, she looked about the room. Finally, to her very left, her eyes landed on the man who was watching her, through the window of his office, what that darn smirk. Seeing that he caught her eye, Sark motioned for her to join him in the office, and placed his hands beneath his head and closed his eyes as he pretended to sleep, recalling the offer he had made earlier today.
Sydney resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What a crude Neanderthal. Keeping eye contact, she pulled out her chair, sat down determinedly, picked up her pen, and made exaggerated motions indicating she's about to start her work.
Sark just smirked wider.
The temptation is too strong. Sydney rolled her eyes..... and groaned as the blonde's blue eyes glittered in amusement. Looking down at her work, she vowed to not speak to him at all for the rest of the day. Or look at him.
Breaking her vow already, she took one peek at him, but was greeted with the window blinds instead. All the better. Now she can concentrate.
Now.....what happened in Moscow?