Friendship Bracelet
By PinkyToes
Rating: G
Friendship Bracelet
Sydney Bristow power walked down the halls of the CIA building, determination shining in her eyes as she held a small bag closely with triumph. Agents around her watched in wonder as the usually stoic and sad super spy hopped her way toward the offices, and gaped when an absolutely glittering grin come upon her face as she made eye contact with another person. No one has seen her like this. Not since her return from Hong Kong. Something has happened. Something good.
***********
Weiss felt a bit worried that Sydney has yet to arrive. Usually, they would drive to work together since they lived so close to each other. But, this morning, Sydney had rejected, though in a nice way, a carpool with him. He didn't question her decision. He knew she would come. He just didn't know when.
Suddenly, Vaughn walked up to him with his brow furrowed and his usual wrinkles adorning his would-have-been youthful face. Weiss knew something was going on. And when Vaughn looks so worried, that something must be related to Sydney. He silently prayed to God that nothing drastic has happened.
"Eric, Sydney's here."
"Oh thank God. I was wondering when she'd be here. Hey, tell Dixon that I did offer a ride this morning, eh?"
Weiss had hoped his joke would cheer Vaughn up, at least unfurrow his friend's eyebrows. Vaughn is just way too young to look old.
"Uh..yeah. She's here. She just asked to have a talk with Sark."
Now it was time for Weiss to worry. A talk? With Sark? Sydney hated Sark. How many times has she burnt the guy both verbally and physically for making her life hell. Something's wrong with this situation. No way in hell would Sydney have a "talk" with Sark unless something serious is going on.
"Did Dixon approve? Heck, forget about Dixon. Did Jack approve? He's got to be pretty pissed off at Sydney, right?"
Vaughn shifted uncertainly in response.
Sydney hadn't asked for Dixon's permission. When she told her Dad, he hadn't been too happy but Sydney wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
Vaughn didn't tell Weiss that Sydney had come into the office with a full- fledged grin, like a little girl who just opened her first Christmas present. The look....the look on her face was unbelievable. It was a true change from the look of defeat that she has worn on her face ever since she came back. Even Jack, when he saw her face, couldn't reject his little girl. How long have they waited for their happy Sydney to come back? So long. So, so long.
"Sydney's already walking to Sark's cell. Jack and Dixon are watching from the cameras. It should be fine. Let's just get back to work."
Weiss knew Vaughn was hiding something. First off, Vaughn hadn't exploded and said a bunch of nasty things about the little British guy who shot him. Second, he hadn't started spouting the list of things he's worried about while Sydney's with him. And finally, Vaughn hadn't even suggested watching the meeting from the cameras. Something was going on. And Weiss intended to find out what.
**********
Sark heard the metal doors pull up, and scowled at the thought of another 'interrogation'. Haven't they had enough? He has told them everything he knows. What more could they want?
Sounds of footsteps echoed off the walls, and Sark was starting to get suspicious. These steps did not sound hurried or determined, like many of the guards that have dragged him off to interrogations. These sounded soft, slow, and feminine. His curiosity piqued and he found himself leaning against the glass wall, curious to the identity of the visitor. His eyebrows shot off his forehead when he identified the soft features of Agent Bristow's face.
Her eyes didn't hold contempt. Her mouth wasn't frowning. Her brows weren't furrowed. Instead, her eyes held a spark, her mouth was placed in a small though uncertain grin, the face of someone visiting a....dare he say....friend?
She paused in front of the glass. Shifting the bag back and forth between her hands, Sydney found it hard to look him in the eyes. Frankly, she didn't know what she was doing. This morning, she woke up and knew that the only person she has access to for this kind of thing was Sark. She couldn't talk to anyone else. Nobody would understand like he would.
Aware that his eyes held confusion, she met them firmly and gave him a small smile. The confusion increased, but he responded with a tiny smirk of his own. A connection was established. Sydney called the guards over and demanded them to open the cell door. The guards obeyed, but sent a look to one another, wondering what Agent Bristow is planning. Sydney walked past the guards and into the cell. She looked around a bit before sitting down Indian style.
"Close the door." Another command the guards followed.
She patted on the floor in front of her, telling him to sit down. Sark followed, though still unsure why Agent Bristow is in his cell, holding a bag, and telling him to sit in front of her like they're friends.
"Sark. I....I've come to you today to discuss some things."
She sent an uncertain smile toward his way, and Sark felt his confusion rise. What would Agent Bristow be uncertain about? This was getting interesting.
"And Agent Bristow, what might those be? Shouldn't we talk in a more secure place where I'm handcuffed to a chair and electrodes taped to my head? Or maybe you already thought of that by bringing them in your bag."
Sydney shook her head. She opened the bag and laid the contents in front of him. Sark was instantly puzzled.
"Twine? Beads? Are these new forms of torture? I must say, CIA is getting creative."
Once again, Sydney shook her head. She felt a little headache coming on. Sark is being sarcastic and uncooperative, and all she wants is to talk to him civilly. She paused, took a breath, and began talking.
"Sark. Please....please don't interrupt. I need to speak to you because I....I know that you are the only one who would understand. You've killed. In cold blood. You've killed, without regret. I'm not trying to criticize you for all of the horrible things you've done. I'm just trying to make you see."
Sydney lifted her eyes to the ceiling and brought her knees up to her chest.
"Ever since Hong Kong, I've had dreams. Dreams of when I was Julia Thorne. Dreams of when I killed people as Julia Thorne and grinned afterwards without pity or guilt. Dreams of when I completely ignored the value of life. I woke up this morning with tears in my eyes because each and every time I dreamed, I would watch myself do horrible things. Horrible things that I don't remember doing. But I know I did them, because they are not just nightmares, they're memories."
For a moment, Sark wondered at what has happened to Sydney. She's here....talking to him about her life? His demeanor changed as he continued listening to Sydney's words.
"I can't seem to stop these nightmares. I can't stop them from plaguing my mind. So I've decided to share them with the only person who knows what it's like to do those things. You."
"Dr. Barnett can't help me. My father can't help me. Weiss, though he means well, can't help me. Vaughn can't help me. I have no one to turn to. Do you understand?"
And Sark did. His eyes filled with understanding and Sydney smiled at that. She knew he would understand.
"I thought of you instantly, like it was already done. No hesitation. And I smiled. Because I wasn't alone. Loneliness has always been the one thing I feared all my life. It also has been the one thing I've felt for the last few weeks. No one knew where I went. No one knew what I've done. Those who did know wouldn't tell me. And I'm left with no one to turn to. Not even myself."
She stopped to wipe away the tears that have fallen down her face. Slowly, her hand reached down and grasped the twine and beads on the floor. She lifted them up for him to see.
"I remember when I was little. I went to a camp. We made friendship bracelets. The counselor said that you give these to those who you think understand you best."
Sydney stopped to smile fondly at the memories.
"I made many bracelets, but I only gave out two. After my mother died, I stopped making them. They no longer meant anything to me."
"I had close friends. Will. Francie. But none of them knew what I did everyday, why I lied to them. Why I come home with bruises or why Francie would sometimes find me crying in the bathtub. Will found out, but that almost cost him his life. And Francie....she never did find out. But, now she's dead."
Sark looked down at his hands. He didn't know whether he should feel guilty for the death of her friend. He didn't know what to feel right now.
Sydney reached out and tilted his head back up to meet her eyes. Sark didn't see hatred or blame in her eyes. All he saw was understanding.
"But you do, don't you? You know why I had bruises. You know the truth behind my tears. Because you do the same things everyday. Risking your life, carrying out your employers' commands, like I did. I thought I was doing it for the country, but as time goes on, I just do it to preserve my life. Why? I don't know. Life wasn't worth living anymore anyway."
Sark shook his head gently and traced her cheek.
"You do it because you are strong. You risked your life everyday because you believed in a cause. You wouldn't be Sydney Bristow if you just bowed down to death. It's not who you are. And as you've said all along, I know you. I understand you."
Sydney nodded.
"You see Sark. We are very much alike. We fight on different sides yet we could've easily switched roles and do the same things as we've done all our lives. I should have seen it before. Maybe you were right. We were destined to work together."
Sark's eyes sparked.
"Are you actually agreeing to my offer?"
Sydney grinned and shook her head.
"No. We would never be on the same side. However, we can be friends."
Sark tensed.
"Sydney, we can never be friends. If I were to leave CIA custody right now and have to fight you again, I wouldn't hesitate to do so. Friendship means feelings. And feelings are like free passes. I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to kill you if need arises."
"I know."
"Then why offer it? Friendship is impossible in our world, especially with our history. Allies, I can certainly deal with."
"Allies aren't always friends. Friends aren't always allies. I don't need you as an ally. I need you as my friend. We don't have to call each other on the phone everyday and speak meaningless trivia about the weather and our jobs. I just need a person who would take one look at me and know exactly how I feel. And you've done that for the past few years I've known you. Don't tell me that's not true."
It was true. He has always known her weaknesses, her strengths, the buttons he can push, and the buttons he cannot. He could tell her disposition just by looking at her eyes, expressive to only him. But friendship....this goes beyond anything he believed in. He cannot risk himself by softening up to Sydney Bristow. He cannot.
"No. We are not friends, nor will we ever be. You're right, Sydney. We share a connection: this job. We risk our lives everyday, protecting our own by killing others, yet we don't really know why we are doing it. For our country? Not in my case, and maybe not in yours. For our employers? We could care less, in fact we curse them every moment we can. For Rambaldi? No, he's just an excuse. We have no reason. We just do. That is exactly why we cannot be friends. Because if need be, I would preserve my life by destroying yours."
Tears filled Sydney's eyes and Sark stood up to avoid seeing them. He doesn't know why Sydney's here, offering him friendship. Doesn't she know it's impossible? She knows the kind of life they lead, lives that cannot be compromised by emotions or feelings.
For awhile, silence filled the tense air. Sydney silently cried to herself as Sark leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. None of them spoke.
"You're right. I'm not asking you to soften toward me. I'm not about to risk your life. I just want....I want you to know that if you ever need a person to understand you, I hope that person would be me. And I'm asking you to be that person for me. This friendship won't be a normal one, but for me, it'll be the first one that is real. I'm sorry if this talk made you uncomfortable. I'll leave now."
The twine and beads went back into the bag. Slowly, Sydney stood up and shook off the dust on her pants. She took one last look at Sark who had yet to move from the wall, and moved toward the glass. She was about to tap on it when Sark spoke.
"I accept this....friendship."
He turned and offered a little smirk.
"You haven't changed Sydney. Not when Laura Bristow died. Not when Sloane killed your fiancé. Not when Francie was killed. Not even after you were brainwashed for two years without any memories. You are still the little girl deep inside....looking for someone who's like you."
Their gazes met and blue met brown and each showed compassion and understanding.
"Will you be that someone, Sark?"
"Yes."
They both grinned in each other's direction before reaching forward to shake each other's hands in confirmation of this new....relationship.
"You said something about friendship bracelets. How do you make them?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
**********
Weiss stared at the screen in shock. Sark and Sydney....friends? Have they both gone mad? He looked toward Jack and Dixon and was awed to find no anger or suspicion on their faces. All he saw was....peace.
Then suddenly, Jack spoke.
"She was five when she went to that camp. She didn't have many friends at the time because she was still young. The counselors there taught her how to make friendship bracelets. It was all she would make for weeks afterwards."
He paused briefly to smile at the memory.
"She gave out two. One to her mother, and one to me. Sydney said we were the only ones who understood her, the only ones who would see her for who she is. Always."
"She stopped making them when she thought her mother died. I stopped talking to my little girl and she thought that the two people who would always understand her had left. I'm glad....that she has found another to take our place."
Dixon smiled and traced a finger down the screen where Sark and Sydney were seen making the bracelets. Weiss followed his finger but jerked his eyes away in hurt. Had Sydney never considered him a friend?
"Eric. You've been her closest confidant since she came back. She didn't go to you because she didn't want to burden you. Sark. Sark understands. He knows how it feels like. Don't hate or blame yourself for not understanding her pain."
No more words were exchanged as the three continued watching the screen.
All smiled at the sight of Sark and Sydney exchanging bracelets.
Their little girl has finally found peace.
By PinkyToes
Rating: G
Friendship Bracelet
Sydney Bristow power walked down the halls of the CIA building, determination shining in her eyes as she held a small bag closely with triumph. Agents around her watched in wonder as the usually stoic and sad super spy hopped her way toward the offices, and gaped when an absolutely glittering grin come upon her face as she made eye contact with another person. No one has seen her like this. Not since her return from Hong Kong. Something has happened. Something good.
***********
Weiss felt a bit worried that Sydney has yet to arrive. Usually, they would drive to work together since they lived so close to each other. But, this morning, Sydney had rejected, though in a nice way, a carpool with him. He didn't question her decision. He knew she would come. He just didn't know when.
Suddenly, Vaughn walked up to him with his brow furrowed and his usual wrinkles adorning his would-have-been youthful face. Weiss knew something was going on. And when Vaughn looks so worried, that something must be related to Sydney. He silently prayed to God that nothing drastic has happened.
"Eric, Sydney's here."
"Oh thank God. I was wondering when she'd be here. Hey, tell Dixon that I did offer a ride this morning, eh?"
Weiss had hoped his joke would cheer Vaughn up, at least unfurrow his friend's eyebrows. Vaughn is just way too young to look old.
"Uh..yeah. She's here. She just asked to have a talk with Sark."
Now it was time for Weiss to worry. A talk? With Sark? Sydney hated Sark. How many times has she burnt the guy both verbally and physically for making her life hell. Something's wrong with this situation. No way in hell would Sydney have a "talk" with Sark unless something serious is going on.
"Did Dixon approve? Heck, forget about Dixon. Did Jack approve? He's got to be pretty pissed off at Sydney, right?"
Vaughn shifted uncertainly in response.
Sydney hadn't asked for Dixon's permission. When she told her Dad, he hadn't been too happy but Sydney wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.
Vaughn didn't tell Weiss that Sydney had come into the office with a full- fledged grin, like a little girl who just opened her first Christmas present. The look....the look on her face was unbelievable. It was a true change from the look of defeat that she has worn on her face ever since she came back. Even Jack, when he saw her face, couldn't reject his little girl. How long have they waited for their happy Sydney to come back? So long. So, so long.
"Sydney's already walking to Sark's cell. Jack and Dixon are watching from the cameras. It should be fine. Let's just get back to work."
Weiss knew Vaughn was hiding something. First off, Vaughn hadn't exploded and said a bunch of nasty things about the little British guy who shot him. Second, he hadn't started spouting the list of things he's worried about while Sydney's with him. And finally, Vaughn hadn't even suggested watching the meeting from the cameras. Something was going on. And Weiss intended to find out what.
**********
Sark heard the metal doors pull up, and scowled at the thought of another 'interrogation'. Haven't they had enough? He has told them everything he knows. What more could they want?
Sounds of footsteps echoed off the walls, and Sark was starting to get suspicious. These steps did not sound hurried or determined, like many of the guards that have dragged him off to interrogations. These sounded soft, slow, and feminine. His curiosity piqued and he found himself leaning against the glass wall, curious to the identity of the visitor. His eyebrows shot off his forehead when he identified the soft features of Agent Bristow's face.
Her eyes didn't hold contempt. Her mouth wasn't frowning. Her brows weren't furrowed. Instead, her eyes held a spark, her mouth was placed in a small though uncertain grin, the face of someone visiting a....dare he say....friend?
She paused in front of the glass. Shifting the bag back and forth between her hands, Sydney found it hard to look him in the eyes. Frankly, she didn't know what she was doing. This morning, she woke up and knew that the only person she has access to for this kind of thing was Sark. She couldn't talk to anyone else. Nobody would understand like he would.
Aware that his eyes held confusion, she met them firmly and gave him a small smile. The confusion increased, but he responded with a tiny smirk of his own. A connection was established. Sydney called the guards over and demanded them to open the cell door. The guards obeyed, but sent a look to one another, wondering what Agent Bristow is planning. Sydney walked past the guards and into the cell. She looked around a bit before sitting down Indian style.
"Close the door." Another command the guards followed.
She patted on the floor in front of her, telling him to sit down. Sark followed, though still unsure why Agent Bristow is in his cell, holding a bag, and telling him to sit in front of her like they're friends.
"Sark. I....I've come to you today to discuss some things."
She sent an uncertain smile toward his way, and Sark felt his confusion rise. What would Agent Bristow be uncertain about? This was getting interesting.
"And Agent Bristow, what might those be? Shouldn't we talk in a more secure place where I'm handcuffed to a chair and electrodes taped to my head? Or maybe you already thought of that by bringing them in your bag."
Sydney shook her head. She opened the bag and laid the contents in front of him. Sark was instantly puzzled.
"Twine? Beads? Are these new forms of torture? I must say, CIA is getting creative."
Once again, Sydney shook her head. She felt a little headache coming on. Sark is being sarcastic and uncooperative, and all she wants is to talk to him civilly. She paused, took a breath, and began talking.
"Sark. Please....please don't interrupt. I need to speak to you because I....I know that you are the only one who would understand. You've killed. In cold blood. You've killed, without regret. I'm not trying to criticize you for all of the horrible things you've done. I'm just trying to make you see."
Sydney lifted her eyes to the ceiling and brought her knees up to her chest.
"Ever since Hong Kong, I've had dreams. Dreams of when I was Julia Thorne. Dreams of when I killed people as Julia Thorne and grinned afterwards without pity or guilt. Dreams of when I completely ignored the value of life. I woke up this morning with tears in my eyes because each and every time I dreamed, I would watch myself do horrible things. Horrible things that I don't remember doing. But I know I did them, because they are not just nightmares, they're memories."
For a moment, Sark wondered at what has happened to Sydney. She's here....talking to him about her life? His demeanor changed as he continued listening to Sydney's words.
"I can't seem to stop these nightmares. I can't stop them from plaguing my mind. So I've decided to share them with the only person who knows what it's like to do those things. You."
"Dr. Barnett can't help me. My father can't help me. Weiss, though he means well, can't help me. Vaughn can't help me. I have no one to turn to. Do you understand?"
And Sark did. His eyes filled with understanding and Sydney smiled at that. She knew he would understand.
"I thought of you instantly, like it was already done. No hesitation. And I smiled. Because I wasn't alone. Loneliness has always been the one thing I feared all my life. It also has been the one thing I've felt for the last few weeks. No one knew where I went. No one knew what I've done. Those who did know wouldn't tell me. And I'm left with no one to turn to. Not even myself."
She stopped to wipe away the tears that have fallen down her face. Slowly, her hand reached down and grasped the twine and beads on the floor. She lifted them up for him to see.
"I remember when I was little. I went to a camp. We made friendship bracelets. The counselor said that you give these to those who you think understand you best."
Sydney stopped to smile fondly at the memories.
"I made many bracelets, but I only gave out two. After my mother died, I stopped making them. They no longer meant anything to me."
"I had close friends. Will. Francie. But none of them knew what I did everyday, why I lied to them. Why I come home with bruises or why Francie would sometimes find me crying in the bathtub. Will found out, but that almost cost him his life. And Francie....she never did find out. But, now she's dead."
Sark looked down at his hands. He didn't know whether he should feel guilty for the death of her friend. He didn't know what to feel right now.
Sydney reached out and tilted his head back up to meet her eyes. Sark didn't see hatred or blame in her eyes. All he saw was understanding.
"But you do, don't you? You know why I had bruises. You know the truth behind my tears. Because you do the same things everyday. Risking your life, carrying out your employers' commands, like I did. I thought I was doing it for the country, but as time goes on, I just do it to preserve my life. Why? I don't know. Life wasn't worth living anymore anyway."
Sark shook his head gently and traced her cheek.
"You do it because you are strong. You risked your life everyday because you believed in a cause. You wouldn't be Sydney Bristow if you just bowed down to death. It's not who you are. And as you've said all along, I know you. I understand you."
Sydney nodded.
"You see Sark. We are very much alike. We fight on different sides yet we could've easily switched roles and do the same things as we've done all our lives. I should have seen it before. Maybe you were right. We were destined to work together."
Sark's eyes sparked.
"Are you actually agreeing to my offer?"
Sydney grinned and shook her head.
"No. We would never be on the same side. However, we can be friends."
Sark tensed.
"Sydney, we can never be friends. If I were to leave CIA custody right now and have to fight you again, I wouldn't hesitate to do so. Friendship means feelings. And feelings are like free passes. I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to kill you if need arises."
"I know."
"Then why offer it? Friendship is impossible in our world, especially with our history. Allies, I can certainly deal with."
"Allies aren't always friends. Friends aren't always allies. I don't need you as an ally. I need you as my friend. We don't have to call each other on the phone everyday and speak meaningless trivia about the weather and our jobs. I just need a person who would take one look at me and know exactly how I feel. And you've done that for the past few years I've known you. Don't tell me that's not true."
It was true. He has always known her weaknesses, her strengths, the buttons he can push, and the buttons he cannot. He could tell her disposition just by looking at her eyes, expressive to only him. But friendship....this goes beyond anything he believed in. He cannot risk himself by softening up to Sydney Bristow. He cannot.
"No. We are not friends, nor will we ever be. You're right, Sydney. We share a connection: this job. We risk our lives everyday, protecting our own by killing others, yet we don't really know why we are doing it. For our country? Not in my case, and maybe not in yours. For our employers? We could care less, in fact we curse them every moment we can. For Rambaldi? No, he's just an excuse. We have no reason. We just do. That is exactly why we cannot be friends. Because if need be, I would preserve my life by destroying yours."
Tears filled Sydney's eyes and Sark stood up to avoid seeing them. He doesn't know why Sydney's here, offering him friendship. Doesn't she know it's impossible? She knows the kind of life they lead, lives that cannot be compromised by emotions or feelings.
For awhile, silence filled the tense air. Sydney silently cried to herself as Sark leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. None of them spoke.
"You're right. I'm not asking you to soften toward me. I'm not about to risk your life. I just want....I want you to know that if you ever need a person to understand you, I hope that person would be me. And I'm asking you to be that person for me. This friendship won't be a normal one, but for me, it'll be the first one that is real. I'm sorry if this talk made you uncomfortable. I'll leave now."
The twine and beads went back into the bag. Slowly, Sydney stood up and shook off the dust on her pants. She took one last look at Sark who had yet to move from the wall, and moved toward the glass. She was about to tap on it when Sark spoke.
"I accept this....friendship."
He turned and offered a little smirk.
"You haven't changed Sydney. Not when Laura Bristow died. Not when Sloane killed your fiancé. Not when Francie was killed. Not even after you were brainwashed for two years without any memories. You are still the little girl deep inside....looking for someone who's like you."
Their gazes met and blue met brown and each showed compassion and understanding.
"Will you be that someone, Sark?"
"Yes."
They both grinned in each other's direction before reaching forward to shake each other's hands in confirmation of this new....relationship.
"You said something about friendship bracelets. How do you make them?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
**********
Weiss stared at the screen in shock. Sark and Sydney....friends? Have they both gone mad? He looked toward Jack and Dixon and was awed to find no anger or suspicion on their faces. All he saw was....peace.
Then suddenly, Jack spoke.
"She was five when she went to that camp. She didn't have many friends at the time because she was still young. The counselors there taught her how to make friendship bracelets. It was all she would make for weeks afterwards."
He paused briefly to smile at the memory.
"She gave out two. One to her mother, and one to me. Sydney said we were the only ones who understood her, the only ones who would see her for who she is. Always."
"She stopped making them when she thought her mother died. I stopped talking to my little girl and she thought that the two people who would always understand her had left. I'm glad....that she has found another to take our place."
Dixon smiled and traced a finger down the screen where Sark and Sydney were seen making the bracelets. Weiss followed his finger but jerked his eyes away in hurt. Had Sydney never considered him a friend?
"Eric. You've been her closest confidant since she came back. She didn't go to you because she didn't want to burden you. Sark. Sark understands. He knows how it feels like. Don't hate or blame yourself for not understanding her pain."
No more words were exchanged as the three continued watching the screen.
All smiled at the sight of Sark and Sydney exchanging bracelets.
Their little girl has finally found peace.