Chapter Three – Into the mind of a killer
"Forget them Sydney. Forget them all" Sark whispered into Sydney's ear. "Come away with me and you'll never have to worry about your father or Vaughn ever again." He pulled his face back and reaching out and placed a piece of her stray hair behind her ear. It was as sheets of silt cut into delicate strands and placed upon the head of an angel. She was his angel, trying to save him from the monster that had overtake all his emotion and ability to respect life.
"Never is an awfully long time." She replied softly gazing into soft blue swirl of his eyes. Her gaze fell from his and found refuge on the ground letting a silent tear escape and drop to the sand below below. Carefully, as if he were afraid she may break, Sark gracefully lifted up her face to meet his own. They stood admiring each other in the moonlight for what seemed to be hours before Sark tentatively bent down and for the first time softly placed his lips upon her own. She willing replied by opening her own mouth allowing him better access. When their tongues meet Sark felt as if they were destined to be together, if it were predetermined by the stars watching through the dark dome above them. Her lips tasted of salt and sweet wine. When he found her on the beach, she was lying in the sand and admiring the stars. She appeared entranced, as if the moon and the stars had swirled together, hypnotically sent her into a state of obliviousness.
This was his favourite memory of her, one he knew he would not be quick to forget. Once agreeing to leave with him, Sark informed her that he would pick her up from a café in the heart of Italy, caffè di volo, two weeks from that very night. He couldn't figure out why anybody would want to call their café The Flying Caf, but upon hearing it's title he knew it would be their perfect meeting place. It was the thought of flying was the exact verb he could use to express his feeling towards Sydney. As if I weightless and the cares of the world just flew by me. All I can think about is what is in front of me and forgetting past; it's behind me, rushed by in a big colourful blur.
He stopped kissing her and tenderly took hold of her soft hand. "We'll leave and they'll never find us." Lovingly he pulled her into a hug and she responded by leaning into his embrace. "They'll try, I guarantee you they will try, but they won't ever find us. Not ever..." He ran his hand over the back of her head and down the length of her hair. It felt like liquid slipping through his fingers. Adoringly he kissed her forehead and started walking backwards across the sand, never breaking eye contact. He was only a couple of meters away before turning his back to her and walked away.
That was to be the last time she would ever get to see him. She could never learn of what he had done because he knew the information would devastate her. He believed he would never be able to obtain her forgiveness and rekindle their love. He knew that she would grieve over his death and instincts told him that she would run to get away. Run from the CIA and from those who, like him, loved her. He couldn't stand to see the reaction he would receive from her when she found out what he had done. He knew that she eventually would. He would explain to her that it was an accident, that it wasn't his fault. She would never believe him, bad memories of his past life would flood back into her mind and convince her that he was still a monster and beyond redemption. So he would make sure that she continue with the original plan, even though it would be without him. What she needed a new life, one that contrasted with the one she had now. It doesn't matter if I'm not in it, as long as she leaves her present life. She needed to go someplace where nobody knew who she was, what she was capable of doing or, for that fact, loving. They we're going to leave for the southern continent of Australia. Sark has recently purchased a small house in the secluded area of the Dandenong Ranges, located in the southern state of Victoria. It was perfect for the two of them, had everything they needed. A beautiful view hidden from the likes of the few neighbours they had, but, most importantly, a stash of weaponry, fake documents, passports and an escape route if they were needed. Now the house would never be used. It'll would sit up in those hills looking over the Dandenong Valley collecting dust and cobwebs, patiently waiting for someone to share the same space with it. It would have to remain alone for plans alter when people change. He couldn't let her see the change that had come over him.
It was easy in the spy world to fake one's death. She had seen many times before. If he even tried to pull off a stunt where there would be the slightest doubt in her mind, he knew there would be no chance that she would buy it. No, he would need to make sure she was there, that there was no doubt in her mind that he died there in her trembling arms. It had been quite an easy task for him, given his connections. The machine built for project: Helix that was blown up in that train yard by Sydney in Poland wasn't the only one built. Dr. Renzo Markovic, former R&D scientist, wouldn't be so stupid as to build only one. A greedy man, after receiving preliminary bids from many terrorist organisations, he thought it profitable to develop a duplicate machine. He had the duplicate positioned in Manchester, England. Sark sniggered to himself, being a Manchester United fan Markovic thought building it in his teams home town would bring him luck for the project. Soccer fans...Who understands them. He thought to himself. After taking the appearance of Agent James Lennox and being shot it was obvious that it wasn't so lucky for him, but for Arden Jezek, Markovic's chief of security, who continued with the project in his place, it seemed so. The CIA knew nothing about the duplicated machine and never once bothered them. It didn't look as if that they're lucky streak was ending anytime soon.
After a meeting with a broke English man, Sark's plan was coming into place. On the brink of suicide, the owner of a small tanning salon, he had been having financial problems with his business for the past year. His wife had left him for a French chef who worked in a successful restaurant in the centre of London. Their son had a brain tumour lodged in the back of his head. Of course, his wife had no knowledge of the son's condition – without even a 'goodbye', she practically disowned them when she left. Sark promised the distressed man that if he undergo the replicating progress and took Sark's place his son would have a long and bright future. Should he agree to impersonate Sark, the tumour would be removed and a sum of 3.5 million dollars would be transferred into the son's bank account.
"You will be shot" he said frankly and without a twitch of emotion that could be seen. "It is imperative that you make her feel loved when you die. If you fail to do so and she doesn't believe it was me, your son will die slowly and painfully without a father or a cent to support him." The man hand started to shake.
"Please" he begged, "my son..." Sark didn't let him finish.
"Do you understand my instructions?" The clearly terrified man slowly nodded in response then was lead into a black car to be driven away to where the procedure would take place.
The man did as he was instructed and Sydney believed that he had died in her embrace, have faith in the fact that he truly did love her. Not that he ever told her so. He could never tell her, he was incapable of expressing such a feeling. It was a contradiction of his being and wasn't a trait commonly shown or encouraged in his profession.
From the beginning Sark figured he had two options, disappear with Sydney and force himself to keep this secret from her, although he knew she would eventually discover the truth, so his only other option would be to fake his death. If he had merely broken contact with her he knew that she would stay with the CIA, keep the life she despised, and use all her efforts to try and find him. She would need answers that he was simply not prepared to give. By erasing himself from her life he knew that she would want to leave as soon as possible and setting up Jack meant he was severing the link that emotionally bindded her to that place. She would never figure out anything about what had happened to her mother because she would never be informed by the CIA of what had happened. Sark shook his head and tried to repress the thoughts from his memory and instead bought forth a replay of the night where he had "died".
It was 4 days before he was due to rendezvous with Sydney at that café in Italy. He had conjured up a plan that would have Sydney kidnapped from her home and taken to a empty warehouse located within a Los Angeles Shipping Dock. He had her sedated, and with the full intention of having her wake up unharmed he lead the team himself. Wearing a ski mask and night goggles he easily picked the lock of the front door and cautiously walked though her house towards her bedroom. Opening the wooden door, made a creaking sound and the slumbering Sydney stirred in her bed. Not waiting for her to wake up and engage in battle, he quickly shot the tranquilliser into her arm. Crouching at the side of the bed, he placed one arm under her legs and one under her back to support her while the lifted her into his arms. There she lay limp as a raggy-doll and her hair swayed from side to side as he walked. Placing her in the back seat of his car, Sark drove to the warehouse.
As she was still in her pajamas, he made sure that when he placed her on the metal cot there would be a blanket coving her to ensure she would not get too cold and wake up earlier than he had planned. From a platform high above the ground of the dark warehouse, he stood watching over her. Those standing on the ground would be unaware of his presence, his being there would be unknown to her. He observed his double walk over to his Sydney, lying asleep in that hospital bad and unaware of what was happening around her, with Sark's signature gun in his hand. He watched as Jack, who stood hidden among the shadows, take a shot from behind his double. Seeing the disheartened man fall to his knees before Sydney. It was like having an outer body experience, watching what was happening to your body but not being able to interfere. He watched as she sprang to life from her quiet slumber, and saw her lover's body on the ground and Jack walking towards the bed. Running to the side of who she believed to be the real Sark, she cradled him in her arms so tenderly and full of love, like a mother holding her child. He watched as the man's hand reached up to lightly stroke her face, before it dropped to the ground.
Although it nearly killed him to do so, Sark had left Sydney's life forever. It was for the better. He tried to convince himself. Sydney will have a better life because I won't be part of it. It was true that he was now out of her life, for her only a distant memory, but she would never be out of his. She haunted him to the point where he thought about her so much that it pained him not be with her. For several weeks he kept his up his hard-shelled appearance to his colleagues. This doesn't effect me. Sydney doesn't effect me. You're dead to her. But despite his efforts, she constantly occupied his thoughts. He had to see her. It didn't take him long to figure out where she would be headed. Sydney's still grieving and would want to be where there is a connection to me. I know that she would still want to be with me. For security reasons he never told her exactly where in Australia they would be headed or of the small home he arranged in Melbourne. He knew that he could trust her with his life, but never truly knew if he could completely and utterly trust her not to turn him in. I am, after all, a cold-blooded killer, not worthy of one's love or affection. It was failsafe embedded in him as a child. You know you can never fully trust anyone.
Ok, I will admit the ending was a bit icky, but it's finished and that what counts, right? It's a bit blabby but I needed to set everything up for the next chapter...
I don't know if anybody noticed the words spoken by Sark to Sydney in the begining where very similar to the wording used from a scene in Peter Pan (motion picture, not the animated one) I recently purchased the DVD and was watching it while I was writing this and when I heard those lines I just had to put it in. So a big thank you to the writer's of Peter Pan (I would name names, but unfortunatly my DVD was kidnapped by my friend and is yet to be returned grumbles).
Now you all know the deal, you like the story PLEASE WRITE ME A REVIEW!!! It really makes my day :)