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Part 11 : Nontoxic
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Safety was unattainable and addictive. Eric was a recurrent link to her past, sweet and secure, unpolluted in his opinion of her by the black deeds she'd done. When Sark had opened the door, looking so grim and angry, Sydney had naturally assumed there was a 12-men taskforce waiting to drag her back to The Covenant. Or kill her. Either one.
But it was Eric. Smiling unapologetically at her, glaring at Sark over her head.
"Eric?"
There were tears in his eyes. Eric never cried. He was amusing, sarcastic, the 'funny one', everybody's best friend. He was stronger than any of the heralded heroes back at the Los Angeles CIA headquarters, and he had the guts to cry.
The door closed again, and they were alone. Sark was gone. In Sydney's room, maybe, but she really didn't much care. She clung to Eric like static.
"Is it just me," he said, "Or does that guy really need a girlfriend?"
It started as a ripple, unexpected and cherished. Together they dissolved into vivid chokes of laughter.
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"Francie didn't like coffee ice cream," she explained softly.
Eric nodded, and took her hand, and laced her fingers through his.
Cleared her throat unsuccessfully. "And then..."
"Then you went medieval on her," he offered.
Sydney nodded. A weary sigh; Eric wrapped and arm around her shoulders. She smiled faintly. "I woke up in a Covenant lab in Scarborough. You could hear the ocean through a window in the corner." She licked her lips nervously. She'd fought like a hellcat to escape these memories. "For the first few months," Eric sharply inhaled through his teeth, "they used manual torture: burns, cuts, lots of stimulants and truth serums. No morphine. Sloane," She shuddered at the name, "had required extensive training to resist torture when I first joined SD-6. After 2 months they realized they wouldn't break me that way, so they moved onto mind games."
Her blunt fingernails dug into his skin.
"They started with Francie - brought in Allison Doren to torment me for a while. Told me I'd killed her, how I ruined her life, how much she hated me. I knew it was Allison but all the drugs and the - the pain. Eric..."
He softly kissed her ear.
"After another few weeks, when I kept resisting, they showed me a file. It was a detailed report on Vaughn." Her voice was raw, creaking. "They told me he'd been there, in the very room I was being kept in, for 2 weeks after he disappeared in Taipei. I don't know, Eric, I - I can't explain it. Just everything was so much... bleaker, in there, I guess, that anything seemed possible. I told myself that Vaughn would never do that, would resist anything the Covenant could do to him, but…"
Sydney was crying, silent broken sobs.
"But I believed them anyway. I gave up on him. They told me he'd betrayed me, just like everyone else I'd ever loved, and I believed them!"
He stroked her feathery hair, smiled consolingly at her.
She swallowed, once, abolished her tears and pressed on.
"In another few months, I couldn't fight anymore. Every minute of every day for almost a year they worked on me. Even when I was asleep they tormented me. Finally, I gave in, and let them break me; let them make me into whatever they wanted. It was all I could do - try to keep a little bit of myself locked away before they killed me altogether. I was gone, Eric. For those three months they used me in the field, I was completely gone. They told me I was Julia Thorne and I accepted it."
A shuddering sigh. One, two, four deep breaths before she could continue.
"I was working for the Covenant for almost three months when they sent me on a major mission with an arms dealer named Simon Walker. We broke into a vault in Algeria together, and by his suggestion we kept half of the money. The Covenant knew, of course, but there was nothing they could do about it. We were both too valuable to them. Simon and I..."
Eric nodded. No explanation needed. He squeezed her shoulders comfortingly.
"About a week later, they sent me, alone, to eliminate a French official they wanted out of the picture. It was easy enough, an antipyrine tablet and mission accomplished, but there was a bodyguard that slipped away. I chased him, followed him to a church just outside Rennes. It was," She licked her lips again, "it was the church I'd seen every day for seven months. In Ockley's lab, on the wall, was a photograph of the church. L'eglise des ames perdus, the Church of Lost Souls. It... It reminded me of who I was."
He soothingly traced patterns on her back; He was there, and he would never let anyone hurt her again.
"It was so hard then, Eric. So much worse than before. I was literally fighting myself. I was trapped in my own body. Then, bit-by-bit, I broke through their training. Ockley knew something was wrong, but he didn't think the procedure could be reversed. I - I tried to kill him. I jammed a scalpel in his throat and ran. Killed 12 others guards escaping, but I did it. I was alone, half insane, and I thought if I returned to L.A. Vaughn would either kill me or drag me back to the Covenant. The only person I thought I could trust was Simon Walker," she laughed. "Don't ask me why."
"You could've have trusted me," Eric whispered. "You can always trust me, Syd. Always."
After that, she continued her explanation with her arms firmly around Eric's waist, cradled tightly in his grasp, away from harm.
"Simon helped me, more than I could ever say. He used his contacts, his money, all of his time helping me take down the Covenant. I told him my sob story, and he accepted it without suspicion. He - he loved me, Eric. And he expected nothing in return. He saved me when I desperately needed to be saved."
A cold-blooded bastard like Simon Walker. Eric smirked. Syd could turn the worst of men into love-struck zombies with just one bat of those chocolate brown eyes.
"We hacked into the Covenant mainframe. Simon then used his contacts to verify the intel that Vaughn was really working for the Covenant. We also discovered a master list of all the Covenant masterminds. It was Simon's suggestion to kill them all."
Sydney was shivering. It was warm inside the rented hotel room.
"One of them was Irina Derevko. She helped them plan and transferred most of her own organization to the control of the Covenant. With it went the unwritten ownership of Mr. Sark."
"Ownership?" He couldn't help it. He chuckled. "You're kidding me, right? Sark doesn't seem the type to enjoy being owned and traded for the highest bidder."
"He's Mom's favorite hound. She ordered him to go to the Covenant," Sydney stated.
"So why is he here? How did you get from our apartment in L.A. to a run-down motel in Canada with a known terrorist waiting in the next room?"
Another restless sigh. He had to understand.
"Simon and I had killed three of the Covenant leaders when they struck back. God, we spent hours just running for our lives, through countless streets and buildings and nightclubs. We were racing against time, just trying to take out as many of our enemies with us before we went down. It was Simon's idea, that I go back to the CIA. He said that even with Vaughn there, it would be safer for me than staying with him. We had nowhere left to hide when I finally went home. Simon -" the tears were back – "he asked me to marry him, just before I boarded the plane to Hong Kong. He said if we ever saw each other again, he'd marry me. He said somehow he'd find me again. So I went to Hong Kong, got into a fight with a team of agents from the Covenant, and ran until I collapsed in an alleyway. It was a risk, fainting when there were agents nearby, but I had to fake head trauma. When Vaughn came to the safe house - Jesus, I was so scared. I thought they'd sent him to bring me back to Scarborough. I tried to escape, as you know, but they knocked me out. Imagine my surprise when I woke up and saw you."
He smiled, and waited. She wasn't near finished.
"Everything was fine, for a while. I couldn't trust Vaughn, but I had to keep my cover. It was so hard, lying to everyone. To you, my Dad, Dixon. Having Vaughn back at the CIA was the last thing I wanted, but I had to act like the old Sydney, and I needed to keep an eye on him. I'm so sorry, Eric. I thought he was a double. I thought he was a traitor."
Another light, tender squeeze. Nothing she did could lessen Eric's friendship.
"When the CIA got a mark on Simon, and they sent me in... he knew. He knew they would kill him if they could. He knew it could happen, but he took the chance anyway. He realized the second he saw me that night in Sevilla that he had to play dumb, pretend he knew me only as Julia Thorne. He knew it could get him killed but he did it anyway, to keep my cover."
She was struggling now. He kissed her forehead, her hair, hugged her tightly.
"I love my Dad so much, Eric. Whenever I needed him he was always there. He's done so much for me, but, Eric... I hate him. I still love him, but I can't look at him anymore without knowing he's the man who killed Simon. He-"
Hysteria now.
"He killed Simon! I hate him, Eric, he killed my Simon!"
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Alone again. Staring at the blank wall and breathing steadily through his nose. Calm, efficient. Mute to the suppressed, indecipherable yells across the hallway. Who was he to kick the door down and tell that CIA lapdog to let Sydney cry if she wanted to? To interrupt the grand moment of truth?
Gritting his teeth, Sark leaned back into the frayed armchair. Sydney was so much more fun when she was bad.
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"It went from bad to worse after Sark escaped. First with Simon, and the NSC snooping around, then Allison came back. After Allison escaped - I can't explain it. I knew Sark would figure out I killed Lazarey, knew he would join up with Covenant to get revenge. But he didn't know... he didn't know what the Covenant would do to him. They had the same game plan in mind for him when he turned up looking for work. I know, I know, heartless bastard who deserves all the pain in the world. I know it, Eric. But I couldn't let another person, no matter how despicable, go through what happened to me. I just couldn't, Eric." A half-hearted shrug. "Beside, Lauren was a few days away from pronouncing me a murderer, so not much lost, right?"
"She did. She found another copy of the tape," Eric explained. "She didn't tell the NSC. She'd on your side. So is Vaughn. We all are, Syd."
A maudlin laugh. Sydney slid off the bed and began pacing restlessly. After a moment - "I caught up with Sark in Britain. That was an interesting conversation, I'll tell you. I think it was the first time outside of SD-6 that I laid eyes on him and didn't immediately commence in kicking his ass."
Eric grinned. "Well, nobody's perfect."
She laughed again, forcedly genuine, and she was ready again. Tears pushed aside and she would finish her tale or die trying.
"I don't know what happened to him after that. I met him again in France, stole his car, and left. He went back to the Covenant, and I went to Italy to meet with Sloane."
"You didn't -" he gasped, disbelieving.
"No. Sark did. He resurfaced just as I was about to, though. Honestly, Sloane was an egotistical little bastard, wasn't he? He thought I'd come for drinks and a chat."
"So Sark killed Sloane? Any viable reason, or was he just ruining the decor for Mr. British Badass?"
Another laugh, unable to stop herself. "I don't really understand it, either. He says he wants to take out the Covenant for himself."
"So if he's got a handle on the whole assassination front, why are you still hanging around? Why don't you come home?"
She bit her lip, tucked her hair behind her ear, and tapped her foot. A bag of nerves. "I can't, yet. I still have a job to do."
"What is it?"
Sydney met his eyes. Dead serious.
"Destroy Rambaldi's artifacts. All of them."
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They'd just be getting around to business now. Hopefully. There had to be a time limit on heart-to-hearts, Sark assumed.
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She awoke with a start. Unfamiliar surroundings, someone snoring lightly beside her. Danger.
"You're fine, Sydney," Eric muttered, half-asleep.
With a shuddering laugh she relaxed against him, wondering how much time had elapsed during their unintentional nap. She vaguely remembered Eric comfortingly tugging her down onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her for warmth and whispering jokes and sentiments to her until she drifted into a hazy sleep.
Sark would either be long gone or almightily pissed.
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Eric knocked before swiping his keycard through the lock and opening the door.
"Have some nice TLC?" Sark asked sarcastically, not bothering to rise or take his gaze from the eggshell white wall.
"Save it, Sark. We have to get moving," Sydney snapped.
"Yes," he agreed, and finally stood. He clasped his hands behind his back and stared at them decisively. "Agent Weiss, you will escort Sydney back to L.A., where she will continue to act out her cover of amnesia. When asked, you will tell them that Sydney has been in my custody for the last two months against her will. I will follow you to L.A., watch you from afar until Ryden shows up, and take him out when he shows himself. After that, I will go my own way, and our temporary truce is at an end. Agreed?"
She expected him to have a plan, of course, just not one involving A) him following them in the United States, or B) her returning to the United States at all.
Momentary silence.
"Or," said Eric, falsely up-beat, "We could lock Sydney in a vault until Ryden goes after you instead, then an unforeseen predicament kills both you and Ryden in one fell swoop, leaving Sydney to ride away into the proverbial sunset."
Said softly, almost a whisper: "Not now, Eric."
She locked eyes with Sark as Eric went quiet. She nodded, once. Sark's expression never flickered.
Eric, the odd man out, faltered. "I'll just... go pack,"
He squeezed her hand lightly before turning and exiting the claustrophobic hotel room.
"He's better than Flinkman, at least," Sark admitted flatly.
"What about my mother?" she asked bluntly.
He shook his head without concern. "Irina Derevko is no longer my problem, Sydney. And neither are you." Impersonal, professional. "We are done here, Sydney. Once you return to the CIA, any connection we may have formed it defunct. They'll send you on missions to sabotage my plans, you will repeatedly get the better of me, and the world with go on. Any questions?"
Conflicted. Her stance held stiff, hostile, but her face betrayed her. Finally, "Listen, Sark..."
"We're even now," he interrupted. "Your words. We're even now."
She watched him warily, then nodded again. He walked with a purpose toward the door, brushing against her carelessly. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, looked her in the eye with his customary smirk strangely absent.
"Goodbye," he stated emotionlessly, and fixed a scalding, furious kiss on her lips.
He left the room before she could react.