05//Champagne
- - -
Running fast in my mind
Girl won't you slow it down
If we carry on this way this thing might leave the ground
How would you like to fly?
"Senorita" - Justin Timberlake
- - -
Finally the plane had landed at an Irish airport, both Sark and Sydney were awoken with the suddenly jolt as the plane touched down upon earth. Sydney sat up in her armchair, stretching her aching muscles. Sark had fallen asleep on the couch: he had fallen asleep in the fetal position. He quickly sat up as he realized his vulnerability was apparent.
They left the airport in a private car; it was a quiet ride with hidden awkward glances at times. Instead of heading to meet with Irina and Sloane "the office," as Sark liked to refer to it as, he asked the driver to take them to his house. Taking Sydney straight into a place where she is wanted dead wouldn't exactly be smart of Sark.
Once they arrived at his home, there was an audible gasp from Sydney's lips. Sark lived in a large, 3-story, Victorian house. It wasn't aged like many houses around him (the nearest house was 5 miles away) but built to Sark's specific requests. It was just one of his many homes he owned; he had another flat in England, New York, and a beach house in Southern California. Whoever said crime didn't pay should have been shot. Or probably already was.
Sark walked into his home in a nonchalant way. To him, his house wasn't a mansion or a manor but a home. Sydney stumbled in after him, staring at the high ceiling above them.
"I live here?" she asked in a breathless voice. Sark smiled smugly in return.
"Yes, for about 2 years I believe." Sark said as he leaned against a near by table. He had formed a plan before falling asleep. Sydney would be more help to him then she would ever know. His train of thought was broken when one of his many butlers scuttled into the room. "Ah yes, Mr. Stewart, would you please ring up Dr. Watson and ask him if he could possibly make a house call for this afternoon." Sark nodded curtly.
"Yes Master Sark, and it is Mr. Clayton, Sir." He said before scuttling off down another hall. Sydney watched him walk down the hall for a moment, and then glanced at Sark. A look on content was apparent on his face and it made Sydney wonder.
"How many servants do you, I mean, do we have?" she asked. Sark turned on his heals and walked down a hall that lead them to what looked like a large living room. Dark green curtains draped the over-sized windows as 3 couches and a few armchairs formed a circle in the center of the room. Sark sat in one of them.
"I'm not sure, really. It's not really my department." He said as he watched Sydney sat on the edge of the couch.
"Not your department, I mean, you hire them correct? You pay them to work around the house, right? Well isn't that exactly what you're department is?" She asked in an unbelievable voice.
Sark shrugged in return as Mr. Clayton entered the room once again.
"Dr. Watson will be here at 4:30." He told Sark as he gave Sydney strange glances. "Shall I prepare the guest room for the misses, Master Sark?"
"Guest Room?" Sydney whispered under her breath. Sark gave her a panicked look.
"No! Uh, no need for that tonight Mr. Uh . uh . well, there's no need for that. If you don't mind I think we can use some champagne." Sark said in mock smooth tone. The word 'Champagne' triggered something in her head and a memory came back to her.
- - -
They were in France. She saw a man sitting on the hood of a car but his face was unreadable. He was giving instructions to a group of men, all of them dressed in black. She smiled and watched him but his words were muffled. Soon he stood up and nodded to her, she popped open the bottle of champagne in her hands and sprayed the fizzy drink all over the man's shirt.
As the bottle's contents drenched the man in front of her, she turned to the group of covertly dressed men in front of her and smiled gleefully.
- - -
Soon she was yanked back into reality. She leaned back against the couch and touched her forehead lightly with her fingers, her breathing slightly uneven.
"You alright?" He asked as he poured the champagne into 2 separate glasses, giving her a nervous glance. He took a sip of his drink as he handed Sydney her glass.
"France," she muttered under her breath, "I saw a man wearing an ugly shirt, talking to men dressed in black ." her words trailed off as she was reviewing the vision she had just experienced. "I sprayed the man with champagne but . why?" Sark swallowed his drink nervously.
"Spraying a man, darling?" he gave her a nervous chuckle, "Really now? Must be one of your . erm . strange dreams. You've only been to France once. For my Uncle's wedding a few years back." He lied quickly though you couldn't understand why was it so difficult for him suddenly. He could lie in front of the pope and not think twice about it but this was Sydney.
A tense silence filled between them as they sipped their champagne quietly. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang and Dr. Phillip Watson walked into the room. Dr. Watson wore the regular doctor attire, a white lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck and he carried a sleek leather briefcase in his right hand. Sark set his champagne down on a near by table and stood up, shaking the man's hand. They walked out of the living room and out of Sydney's earshot so Sark could explain what was happening. He told the Doctor about Sydney being knocked unconscious and him lying to her about her true identity. The Doctor nodded, understanding the situation, and asked no more questions as he led Sydney out of the living room up to one of the luxurious bed rooms upstairs. Sark passed outside of the door nervously, he trusted the doctor since Sloane employed him and he knew what kind of business he was involved in. This fact did not calm Sark's nerves.
He had to be very careful with his words now; anything and everything could trigger Sydney's memory to return. He couldn't mention SD-6, Vaughn, or anybody in her previous life. How did champagne fit? He vaguely remembered hearing a story that involved the CIA team and using champagne as a diversion.
He nervously glanced down at his watch. It had been 20 minutes since the exam had started. Sark found it curious how she would react when he saw Sloane and her mother. Could that trigger anything? No memory of him came up when she saw him so possibly it's only words that could do the trick. So many possibilities made Sark's head spin.
He smiled in spite of himself, toying with another person's life may seem evil but it was also the sweetest revenge. He could use her; Sloane could use her against her own agency in achieving whatever he wanted. Sark greatly admired Sydney, she knew of it, and to be able to work beside her would be a true gift to him. To finally work with someone who's abilities matched his.
Finally the door creaked open and the doctor walked out, holding sheets of paper. He handed it to him and it was the examination results. Dr. Watson informed Sark that Sydney was in top condition but the avalanche of books caused her to loose her memory. He also Sark what he already knew, anything could bring back her memory. The doctor nodded curtly at Sark's understanding and let himself out. Sark folded up the piece of paper and walked into the guest room.
Sydney sat towards the window with her back to the door. Sark slowly walked over to her, his hands in his pocket, as a smirk played upon his lips. "I have good news" he spoke with a soft tone. He saw Sydney jump and turn towards him.
"Am I alright?" she asked, his eyes fell to her hands and saw they were twisting a piece of tissue nervously. He moved next to her and saw down as he placed a kiss on her left temple.
"The accident that you had did cause some damage, but you just lost your memory. He said it was nothing to worry about, that you'll have it back possibly in a few days." He told her.
"A few days?" Sydney asked in a tired voice.
"But you have me and I know everything about you. Don't worry, I'm here to help." He grinned; she returned his grin as she leaned forward to kiss him. Without realizing it, a strange force pulled Sark forward as well. Her lips were so close; he could feel her hot breath against him as he closed his eyes .
They were interrupted by the crashing sound of the front door being pushed opened. Panic streaked through Sark's heart as he sat up straight.
"Mr. Sloane? Mrs. Derevko?" He heard his butler's voice ring through the hall. Sark bit his bottom lip as he thought up another lie to tell Sydney.
This was going to get interesting .
- - -
Running fast in my mind
Girl won't you slow it down
If we carry on this way this thing might leave the ground
How would you like to fly?
"Senorita" - Justin Timberlake
- - -
Finally the plane had landed at an Irish airport, both Sark and Sydney were awoken with the suddenly jolt as the plane touched down upon earth. Sydney sat up in her armchair, stretching her aching muscles. Sark had fallen asleep on the couch: he had fallen asleep in the fetal position. He quickly sat up as he realized his vulnerability was apparent.
They left the airport in a private car; it was a quiet ride with hidden awkward glances at times. Instead of heading to meet with Irina and Sloane "the office," as Sark liked to refer to it as, he asked the driver to take them to his house. Taking Sydney straight into a place where she is wanted dead wouldn't exactly be smart of Sark.
Once they arrived at his home, there was an audible gasp from Sydney's lips. Sark lived in a large, 3-story, Victorian house. It wasn't aged like many houses around him (the nearest house was 5 miles away) but built to Sark's specific requests. It was just one of his many homes he owned; he had another flat in England, New York, and a beach house in Southern California. Whoever said crime didn't pay should have been shot. Or probably already was.
Sark walked into his home in a nonchalant way. To him, his house wasn't a mansion or a manor but a home. Sydney stumbled in after him, staring at the high ceiling above them.
"I live here?" she asked in a breathless voice. Sark smiled smugly in return.
"Yes, for about 2 years I believe." Sark said as he leaned against a near by table. He had formed a plan before falling asleep. Sydney would be more help to him then she would ever know. His train of thought was broken when one of his many butlers scuttled into the room. "Ah yes, Mr. Stewart, would you please ring up Dr. Watson and ask him if he could possibly make a house call for this afternoon." Sark nodded curtly.
"Yes Master Sark, and it is Mr. Clayton, Sir." He said before scuttling off down another hall. Sydney watched him walk down the hall for a moment, and then glanced at Sark. A look on content was apparent on his face and it made Sydney wonder.
"How many servants do you, I mean, do we have?" she asked. Sark turned on his heals and walked down a hall that lead them to what looked like a large living room. Dark green curtains draped the over-sized windows as 3 couches and a few armchairs formed a circle in the center of the room. Sark sat in one of them.
"I'm not sure, really. It's not really my department." He said as he watched Sydney sat on the edge of the couch.
"Not your department, I mean, you hire them correct? You pay them to work around the house, right? Well isn't that exactly what you're department is?" She asked in an unbelievable voice.
Sark shrugged in return as Mr. Clayton entered the room once again.
"Dr. Watson will be here at 4:30." He told Sark as he gave Sydney strange glances. "Shall I prepare the guest room for the misses, Master Sark?"
"Guest Room?" Sydney whispered under her breath. Sark gave her a panicked look.
"No! Uh, no need for that tonight Mr. Uh . uh . well, there's no need for that. If you don't mind I think we can use some champagne." Sark said in mock smooth tone. The word 'Champagne' triggered something in her head and a memory came back to her.
- - -
They were in France. She saw a man sitting on the hood of a car but his face was unreadable. He was giving instructions to a group of men, all of them dressed in black. She smiled and watched him but his words were muffled. Soon he stood up and nodded to her, she popped open the bottle of champagne in her hands and sprayed the fizzy drink all over the man's shirt.
As the bottle's contents drenched the man in front of her, she turned to the group of covertly dressed men in front of her and smiled gleefully.
- - -
Soon she was yanked back into reality. She leaned back against the couch and touched her forehead lightly with her fingers, her breathing slightly uneven.
"You alright?" He asked as he poured the champagne into 2 separate glasses, giving her a nervous glance. He took a sip of his drink as he handed Sydney her glass.
"France," she muttered under her breath, "I saw a man wearing an ugly shirt, talking to men dressed in black ." her words trailed off as she was reviewing the vision she had just experienced. "I sprayed the man with champagne but . why?" Sark swallowed his drink nervously.
"Spraying a man, darling?" he gave her a nervous chuckle, "Really now? Must be one of your . erm . strange dreams. You've only been to France once. For my Uncle's wedding a few years back." He lied quickly though you couldn't understand why was it so difficult for him suddenly. He could lie in front of the pope and not think twice about it but this was Sydney.
A tense silence filled between them as they sipped their champagne quietly. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang and Dr. Phillip Watson walked into the room. Dr. Watson wore the regular doctor attire, a white lab coat with a stethoscope around his neck and he carried a sleek leather briefcase in his right hand. Sark set his champagne down on a near by table and stood up, shaking the man's hand. They walked out of the living room and out of Sydney's earshot so Sark could explain what was happening. He told the Doctor about Sydney being knocked unconscious and him lying to her about her true identity. The Doctor nodded, understanding the situation, and asked no more questions as he led Sydney out of the living room up to one of the luxurious bed rooms upstairs. Sark passed outside of the door nervously, he trusted the doctor since Sloane employed him and he knew what kind of business he was involved in. This fact did not calm Sark's nerves.
He had to be very careful with his words now; anything and everything could trigger Sydney's memory to return. He couldn't mention SD-6, Vaughn, or anybody in her previous life. How did champagne fit? He vaguely remembered hearing a story that involved the CIA team and using champagne as a diversion.
He nervously glanced down at his watch. It had been 20 minutes since the exam had started. Sark found it curious how she would react when he saw Sloane and her mother. Could that trigger anything? No memory of him came up when she saw him so possibly it's only words that could do the trick. So many possibilities made Sark's head spin.
He smiled in spite of himself, toying with another person's life may seem evil but it was also the sweetest revenge. He could use her; Sloane could use her against her own agency in achieving whatever he wanted. Sark greatly admired Sydney, she knew of it, and to be able to work beside her would be a true gift to him. To finally work with someone who's abilities matched his.
Finally the door creaked open and the doctor walked out, holding sheets of paper. He handed it to him and it was the examination results. Dr. Watson informed Sark that Sydney was in top condition but the avalanche of books caused her to loose her memory. He also Sark what he already knew, anything could bring back her memory. The doctor nodded curtly at Sark's understanding and let himself out. Sark folded up the piece of paper and walked into the guest room.
Sydney sat towards the window with her back to the door. Sark slowly walked over to her, his hands in his pocket, as a smirk played upon his lips. "I have good news" he spoke with a soft tone. He saw Sydney jump and turn towards him.
"Am I alright?" she asked, his eyes fell to her hands and saw they were twisting a piece of tissue nervously. He moved next to her and saw down as he placed a kiss on her left temple.
"The accident that you had did cause some damage, but you just lost your memory. He said it was nothing to worry about, that you'll have it back possibly in a few days." He told her.
"A few days?" Sydney asked in a tired voice.
"But you have me and I know everything about you. Don't worry, I'm here to help." He grinned; she returned his grin as she leaned forward to kiss him. Without realizing it, a strange force pulled Sark forward as well. Her lips were so close; he could feel her hot breath against him as he closed his eyes .
They were interrupted by the crashing sound of the front door being pushed opened. Panic streaked through Sark's heart as he sat up straight.
"Mr. Sloane? Mrs. Derevko?" He heard his butler's voice ring through the hall. Sark bit his bottom lip as he thought up another lie to tell Sydney.
This was going to get interesting .