** I am in no way associated with Alias. The usual disclaimers apply.
PART SIX
Sydney sat across from him and tried not too show the hate she felt. If she showed feeling - any feeling - it would give him ammunition against her.
He stood absolutely composed at the front of the room, his hands folded coolly in front of him, his eyes steady.
The room was not a typical courtroom - the trial of an international terrorist would never have been played out in a standard American courtroom.
Sark stood in a glass container - a spray of small microphones in front of him, relaying what he was saying to the court with a tinny, mechanical tinge.
12 soldiers stood by the glass box where he was held, weapons at ready, and a further two units waited at strategic points in and around the building, as well as a half dozen US Marshall's that transported Sark from the maximum security prison to the bland, insignificant building where the trial was held.
Sydney had been told that the building masqueraded as a branch of The Department Of Fish And Game, but was really another CIA-sanctioned operations centre.
Several directors of various government departments, including the CIA, DOD and NSA, as well as a few Senators, and two CIA interrogators and two lawyers, sat at a long table facing Sark's glass enclosure, and behind them sat the agents who were to give evidence.
New US anti-terrorism laws allowed for Sark to stand trial unrepresented - without a lawyer, and unable to provide any witnesses or defense of his own.
The trial was, essentially, an interrogation that would ultimately lead to a death sentence.
Sark knew this. Sydney could tell. He knew that no matter what he said he would be killed. So he stood either silently smiling, answering questions with his own questions or ambiguous replies, or with a snide attack on the CIA and the government it represented.
Questions were thrown at him from all about the room - even from agents who were to give evidence.
There were no laws preventing the torrent of questions or controlling who would ask them. Sydney couldn't say that she really cared - as long as Sark got what he deserved.
He looked at her her sitting stoically among her fellow agents and couldn't help smiling. So pathetic - after all they had put her through - she stood by the CIA.
"With whom does your true alliance rest, Mr Sark?" A round, red-faced Senator put the question forward - his voice unsteady.
Sark looked at him calmly, an eyebrow half-cocked in mockery.
"I would've thought that question would be rather inconsequential, given my current situation..." Sark smiled again, the motion sending chills through Sydney.
He looked so cold, she thought, so... unfeeling.
He looked directly at her, his lip curling slightly.
"But seeing as how I have no pressing engagements..." He paused. "My true loyalty is to myself, my American friend. Therefore my allegiances change to better my own situation."
He flicked his eyebrows up as he finished.
He was intelligent, Sydney thought. This trial would last forever.
"Is it not true you were once aligned with Irina Derevko, ex-KGB agent and current..."
Sark interjected the bumbling lawyer who had asked him the question.
"I know who she is, Sir. Please don't waste my time by listing her criminal activities. I was present at the majority of them."
A dark man with a deep voice spoke without raising his head. Sydney recognized him as an NSA director.
"Your time is ours to waste, Mr Sark."
Sark's mouth twitched, and Sydney knew him well enough to know that the director's response had thrown him - even if it was only slightly.
It would seem that his time in confinement had made him less resilient.
Sark shifted uncomfortably where he stood. His hospitable captors had not provided him with a seat. His world was all about control, and the director's reply had shifted that control. Sark was not happy.
Sydney took advantage of his unbalance and stood to ask a question.
"How did your partnership with Irina Derevko begin?"
Sark smiled again and Sydney felt like smacking it from his face.
"I knew you wouldn't be able to contain your curiosity... Sydney."
All the men sitting at the table in front turned slowly in their seats to face her. Sark had used her first name to establish familiarity, that she understood. But she was unsure whether he wanted to tag her with suspicion.
He rubbed his hand together as if washing them with invisible soap and water.
"Your mother and I..." He smiled again as murmurs traveled through the room. "... established our working relationship before I was even in the business. She was my mentor."
He rubbed his hands together again, signaling the end of his answer.
"You didn't answer my question..." Sydney looked at him determinedly.
"Agent Bristow!" The NSA director's booming voice halted Sydney. "Please withhold your comments for the time being."
Sark chuckled and Sydney seethed.
The men around her continued to ask questions she deemed futile. Who had Sark worked with, how did he form contacts, blah blah blah. She rolled her eyes. This wasn't a trial - no-one discussed what Sark had done, how he was guilty. They were more interested in information - information they would never get from him - the CIA had tried.
Eventually Sydney was called to give evidence and she moved to a seat adjacent to the long table.
***
".. beacuse I needed to pursue the Rambaldi device, I sent my father, Agent Jack Bristow, to negotiate the hand-over of Will Tippin with Sark."
Sydney looked up slowly, remembering what Sark had put Will and her through.
"It is my understanding..." Sydney continued, "... that as well as torturing Tippin, Sark also shot and murdered the three agents protecting him."
She darted a look to Sark in an effort to gauge his reaction. He stood impassively.
***
Sydney rubbed the back of her neck tiredly.
The men asking her questions took notes absently. This was pointless. Just kill him already. Sydney shifted in her seat.
She could feel Sark's eyes on her, penetrating her. She could imagine the shadowy blue eyes that watched her as she spoke and she shuddered involuntarily.
Sydney continued.
"Sark offered me the antidote in exchange for Sloane... Given the nature of the situation, I accepted."
"The nature of the situation?" The red faced Senator spoke up again.
"Agent Vaughn would have died had he not received the antidote."
The men scribbled something else down and Sydney's lips flattened into an irritated line.
She glanced over to Sark, who smiled widely back at her.
He is enjoying every moment of this. Sydney glared back at him and he chuckled.
"Has Mr. Sark ever threatened your life, Sydney?" A thin man with graying hair spoke up from the audience of agents.
"Yes." She answered flatly. "Sark has tried to kill me on more than one occasion."
Again, the pointless murmering.
"That will be all, Agent Bristow." She heard the NSA Director speak again.
"That's all?" Sydney asked almost incredulously.
"Yes, that will be all. Please consult one of the Marshall's regarding departure protocol."
I'm being kicked out. Sydney moved slowly towards the door. She couldn't believe it, this wasn't a trial, it was a goddamn waste of time.
She felt Sark watching her as she left.
Sark's crisp accent halted her and drew the attention of his questioners. "I only shot two agents, not three, while acquiring Will Tippin. I ran over the other one outside with my car. There's a difference, you know. And for the record, I have never attempted to kill you, Syd..."
Again with the intimate use of her name. What was he playing at?
She turned back slightly and raised an eyebrow questioningly.
The audience watched him, waiting for an explanation.
"... If I had indeed being trying to end your life, you wouldn't be standing here today."
His lips curved in a smile and he chuckled almost jovially.
Sydney walked away with out turning back.
