a/n: Thanks to amyl27 for her help with this chapter!!

Awakenings

His head hurt. So did his neck.

What happened?

He moved an arm to rub his neck, but instead felt it held back. He tried again, but heard the rattling of handcuffs.

Sark blinked, several times. He sat in a chair, and as his eyes swept around him, he realized he was indeed in a predicament. His hands were cuffed behind his back, and his feet tied to the legs of the chair. He tried to open his mouth to protest, but realized a clump of cloth gagged him.

Confusion and even fear overrode his body. His muscles tensed. Calm down. Figure out what's happened.

Sydney. He remembered she came, and they were in his cabin. She was wrapping my hands, and trying to convince me. He flexed his hands, feeling the bandages still there. He glanced over himself again, and found himself in the same clothes as before. They were dirty from the mountain, sweat soaking through from however long he'd been unconscious.

Why was I unconscious? He tried to think what caused it. Who else was there?

He felt his breath tighten in his chest. Sydney. She had knocked him out, injected something into him.

A smirk slowly spread over his lips. Her move was bold, and it confused him. Now what?

The room he was in was small—tiny, in fact. It was more like a walk-in closet. Coats and clothing hung around the walls.

It is a closet! His eyes narrowed. She had the gall to put me in a closet.

Suddenly Sydney appeared through the door.

"Good, you're awake. Sorry about the accommodations, but it's the only place to keep you for awhile," she said. She looked gorgeous, as always. Her hair was soft like silk. She wore a haughty grin on her face, and Sark couldn't help but admire it.

Until he remembered he was chained to a chair.

He had a few choice phrases and questions to ask, but his mouth just chomped on the gag. The words were lost through it. Sydney started to smirk—one that rivaled his own.

"You'll get your chance to talk," she said. "But not yet. I figured interrogations and being held captive always seem to work in bringing out the truth. So welcome to your captivity."

His eyes bulged at that, especially as she just turned and walked away.

And I'm still in a closet.

But he wasn't left for long. Sydney came back, and this time with Alan Yielding.

What? He would have voiced the question, but—yeah, the gag.

Alan had the audacity to smile at Sark. He didn't return the favor, but not that anyone could tell what expression he bore anyway.

"Good to see you, Sark," Alan said. "For the record, I didn't tell everyone where you were."

Thanks, moron, Sark thought. I figured that out since I didn't even plan on going to Alaska. None of his moves were planned.

Sydney cleared her throat, which made Sark drop the glare he'd been shooting Alan.

"First off, Alan had something he wanted to ask you. I'll leave you to it." With that, she turned and left again. Sark shook his head. Figuring that woman out was still a mystery.

Alan stood, watching him without a trace of concern at the oddness of the situation.

"Well, anyway," he said, clearing his throat, "what I wanted to ask was … well, it relates to Ilene."

Sark could feel his eyes narrow at the man.

"We've been, ah, dating, for awhile—well, since you've been gone," Yielding continued. The way he stumbled alarmed Sark. It meant he was uncomfortable, and such discomfort at this stage made red lights flash in Sark's mind.

Yielding sighed. "I want to marry her, if she'll have me." Sark's eyes bulged again. What?! They barely know each other! "I figured I should ask you, since your father doesn't scare me at all."

Sark raised an eyebrow at that. Meaning, he's afraid I'll kill him if he doesn't get permission first. Not a bad idea.

"So what do you think?" Alan asked, a hopeful grin on his face. Sark rolled his eyes. I'd voice an objection if I could. But Alan kept smiling, seemingly oblivious to the restraint on Sark's mouth.

"Great," Alan said. "Thanks for your approval." He turned to leave the closet.

WHAT! Sark started to yell through his gag. Alan turned back but just waved, a smile on his face.

And he was alone again.

They're mocking me. They want control--without me interrupting. It made him fume.

The nerve.

Through the closet door, he heard laughter, and it only made him scowl.

Sydney came back, closing the closet door behind her. She had a motherly smile on her face, and she bent down by his side. Her eyes were soft, and Sark's breath caught in his chest.

His eyes didn't move from hers, even when she took a hand and stroked his cheek.

"I need you to trust me on this, all right?" she said quietly. "I know you hate being powerless—but this is the only way." The only way for what?

With that she leaned in and gave him a peck on the nose. That almost startled him, in its playfulness and sincerity. He shook his head, and Sydney turned towards the door.

"Alan!"

He returned, and together they started to release Sark. Alan bent by Sark's chair, and undid the chains holding him down. Sark felt Sydney's touch on his arms as she helped him stand. But the handcuffs weren't removed, nor the gag. They led him out of the closet and into a well-lit room.

And there they were. His mom and his dad. Calvin. Ilene. They stood in a semi-circle, watching him with faint smiles as Sydney and Alan helped him along.

His legs were numb, and he stumbled. Alan caught him, but suddenly let him drop.

Sark groaned as he hit the floor. He glared at Alan. The man merely shrugged. Sark looked to Sydney, who seemed equally nonchalant.

What the hell is going on? He stayed on the ground; he couldn't really get up when his hands were still bound behind his back. He lay on his side and glared at the people before him. Whatever game they were playing, he didn't like it.

"Sark," Sydney began. Her hands were clasped in front of her like a veteran game show host. "We decided this would be the best way to get your attention."

"And by attention, we mean getting through your thick skull," Ilene chipped in. A bright smile graced her lips, and Sark had to shake his head to make sure this all wasn't some bizarre dream.

"You keep running away, faking your death and all." It was Calvin who spoke this time. He shot his brother a quirky grin. "I know you were trying to protect us."

His mother put her two cents in. "But honestly, Julian, your notions of protection are just plain silly."

"Misguided," his dad added.

"Stupid," Calvin said.

"And selfish." That one came from Sydney. Sark found his eyes fixated on hers. Those eyes were warm, despite this odd and chilly reception. It comforted Sark somewhat to know they all weren't completely nuts, no matter what assurances Sydney gave.

"I know you are used to protecting everyone by yourself, and making all the sacrifices alone," she said. "But it's time you let someone help. That's partially why I gave up the CIA."

She stepped closer to him, even crouching by his body.

"No matter what the dangers, I'll protect them." She was whispering, just so he could hear. "I'll be by your side. But you have to let me."

Sark blinked, several times as moisture started to threaten him. What's going on with my eyes?

He swallowed hard, noticing a growing lump within.

"We want you with us, Julian." It was his dad, and Sark didn't miss the misty look in his eyes.

"And," Ilene interrupted, "if you even think about disappearing again without so much as a 'see-you-later,' we'll all go on the evening news and put out a missing person's report." She smiled, her blue eyes sparkling.

Sydney was still by his side, and she looked back at him. Her eyes caught his, and he knew that she saw something within him, being affected.

Sark looked away. He couldn't show this. He wasn't ready.

I can't do this. I can't.

I can't stay, not when their lives are at risk. Not when people still want me dead.

He felt Sydney's hand lift his chin to look at her.

"Let us protect you for once," Sydney whispered. Her eyes were wide with concern, pleading . . . love.

A sob escaped his throat, and for once he was glad the gag was in place to muffle it. He pulled his chin away, trying again to hide.

To his horror, or maybe delight, Sydney removed the gag. Sark managed to swallow that lump as he looked into her brown eyes.

"Anything you'd like to say?" she prompted. He froze, but then nodded.

"Would you please take off these handcuffs?"

His family and Yielding all laughed at that. Sydney obliged. She wore her smile openly, but her eyes still showed concern.

Sark didn't care. He had to leave, to escape this.

It was too much.

As soon as he felt his hands free, he jumped to his feet and quickly left the room. The silence he caused shouted after him.

Not now.

I can't.

--------

He hated himself. He'd shattered the window to the first car he found and jumpstarted it. Sark quickly sped off.

After several moments of silence, he punched the radio and twisted the volume as high as he could stand.

He needed noise. Distraction. Anything to silence his mind and heart.

It's for the best.

No, it's not.

Stop running away.

The road he followed was unknown to him. He had no idea what city he was in, but it wasn't as sparsely populated as he thought it'd be. He passed shops and stores, gas stations and parks.

He swerved to pull over as he noticed a large pond in the distance. Sark left the car at the curb and started to it.

A strong wind blew through the city, creating large ripples on the water. Sark sat by the pond's edge and just watched the water. The gentle lapping of water calmed him.

They had meant to make him a captive audience. Make him listen to what they had to say, to make him agree to what they wanted.

He didn't blame them—not his family, Alan, or Sydney. The blame only fell on himself.

Yes, they wanted him around. They wanted him in their lives. But Sark would always exist, and he would always be in danger. And he would always endanger them.

But that's not what really bothered him.

Running was a way of life now. And it held freedom that he … liked. He enjoyed the moments of randomness that he experienced. He had seen places he never would have thought he could. But he was still hunted. Even Sydney's sudden appearance proved that.

He hated being hunted. He hated being the object of everyone's power. With Irina, he was the point man who obtained anything. Strachen had used him for information and his own attempt to gain power. How many times had he been tortured for other people's reasons?

MI6 had wanted him as well. Another pawn in a global game of intrigue that Sark now despised.

His family had suffered through all of it.

But so had he. And he was tired of suffering.

He couldn't take anymore. His reasons for running away had always been valid. He had lived--relatively care-free--but even that had been taken away.

Now, the very ones who wanted him around for innocent reasons were the ones Sark couldn't help but resent.

Love. Restraint. Cage.

The only answer for him was escape. He was alone now. Sark couldn't even remember the why of being with Sydney before MI6 came into the picture. Their relationship then hung by a thread. It had been pointless. She was even ready to give up.

But she resigned. She said she wants to protect them. You.

Doesn't that change anything?

Another sob came through Sark's throat.

No.

Why? Why any of it anymore….

He felt tears pelt his skin. But even he couldn't reduce himself to that. Looking up, he saw the sky pour down on him. The wind had grown stronger, and the chill of it all made Sark shake.

But he didn't get up. He didn't run to the stolen car for shelter.

He stayed in the rain, unwilling to make the effort to protect himself.

In a word, he was tired.

And ready to give up.

--------

It was cold. Beyond cold. Sark's eyes fluttered open. It was dark, and the rain hadn't stopped.

He tried to move his arms and wipe the rain from his face. His arms might as well have been lead.

His chest moved up and down too quickly, and his eyes started to shut.

I should stay awake.

---------

"Sir?"

The voice was female, and formal in its reserve.

"Sir? Can you hear me?"

Sark wanted her to go away. His head was throbbing and his whole body ached.

"Sir?"

"If I say I can hear you, will you go away?" It came out as a ragged whisper, but the woman must have heard it. She laughed.

"Let me get the doctor."

Doctor? Sark tried to open his eyes. A dark-haired nurse left the room, no doubt to retrieve said doctor.

He glanced around. He was in a hospital room, one with four curtained partitions. Across from him he could see an old woman, and next to him a young woman. Thankfully, there was no fourth occupant.

The old woman eyed him suspiciously. Sark closed his eyes, and tried to think.

Ow. That hurts. He opened his eyes again, glancing to his right. The young woman was watching him, a flirtatious gleam in her eyes. She couldn't have been more than 21, but she was beautiful, and seemed quite taken with him.

Or you could just be delirious.

The dark-haired nurse returned, this time with a female doctor in tow.

"Good, you're awake."

Sark raised an eyebrow at that, though it caused his head to hurt.

"Where am I?"

"More importantly," the doctor said, "is who are you? We didn't find any identification on you. No wallet, nothing."

Sark furrowed his brow. He had no desire to give this woman his name, or even an alias. They would try checking those, and he just couldn't afford that.

"What happened?" he asked. Suddenly he started coughing, and he could hear the rumble of phlegm in his lungs. Sark covered his mouth, but in the process his IV line got ripped from his hand.

The doctor was at his side, quickly trying to put the tube back in.

"You were found outside two days ago," the doctor said. "The police found you by a pond in the park just a few blocks from here. You had a fever at the time."

Fever? They brought me in for a fever?

"That, of course, worsened to pneumonia," the doctor continued. "You're lucky they found you."

Sark almost smirked at that. Lucky they didn't check Interpol's database.

"When may I leave?" Sark asked politely. The doctor shot him a look.

"When you tell me your name, so I can contact someone to take you home," she said sternly. "If there's no one to take care of you, you must stay here until you recover."

Sark almost rolled his eyes. Like you could keep me here.

"I can take care of him," someone said, entering the room. Sark looked over to see Sydney standing there, her arms crossed over her chest.

Sark groaned. The nurse raised an eyebrow at that.

"And you are?" the doctor asked.

"His girlfriend," Sydney replied shortly. "Is he okay to be moved?"

The doctor looked between her and Sark, and back at Sydney again. Slowly, she nodded.

"Yes," she said. She led Sydney out of the room. "I just have some paperwork for him."

--------

They drove in silence. Sark hadn't uttered a word, and that was fine with Sydney. She was ready to bite his head off for disappearing, only to show up in a hospital days later.

She swallowed hard. She had been worried—they couldn't find him. He left too quickly, and taking Alan's car even. He hadn't liked that too much, but he'd get over it.

When they couldn't find him, Sydney was terrified. She thought maybe he just needed a moment to collect himself, but when he wasn't to be found her thoughts turned to the worst.

Sydney was sure he was gone again. Or that some lucky assassin had finally found him.

"How did you find me."

The defeat in his voice made Sydney cringe. He acted like a prisoner.

"The car. It was found outside the park. When we went to get it, we overheard a street vendor talking about someone being taken to the hospital, right from the park," she said. In truth, the street vendor had said 'body,' and Sydney knew it had to be Sark. Though she was afraid he was dead, she went to the hospital anyway. "I looked for John Does."

Sark nodded. He stared out the windshield, rarely blinking.

Suddenly he started coughing. The fit lasted several seconds, a good minute even. He fought to control his breathing, and Sydney could hear the wheezing as he breathed.

They pulled up to the house. Sydney watched as Sark studied the house. It was a nice one, half brick and half stone covering two-stories above ground.

"Is this where you moved them?" he asked, referring to his family. Sydney nodded.

"Come on. You should rest."

---------

Ilene watched over her sleeping brother. Julian lay on a bed, in the guest room of her parents' house. The room was a light blue, and the bed was a four-post canopy that she often wished were in her room. She knew how comfortable it was, and could see the relaxation it caused sweep over Julian's features.

When Sydney brought him home from the hospital, he didn't say a word to anyone. He just leaned against Sydney for help up to the room, and then she just let him sleep.

Ilene couldn't help but be hurt. He left, again and so soon. And he almost got himself killed by pneumonia. For as tough as he always tried to be, Ilene had seen him in bed, weak as a feather, more times than he would probably care to admit.

But those were times when he'd been … tortured by someone. This time…it was as if he had given up.

Why would he? Didn't he want to be with them? Was he so stubborn to ignore their own wants, all for their "safety"?

She let a sigh escape from her mouth. She slowly moved a hand to him, and wiped away his hair from his forehead. He was warm; she let her hand linger on his head.

Fever. He was still fighting off the illness. Ilene glanced at the bottle of medicine by his bed. Sydney already gave him one pill, and said he shouldn't have another for a few hours.

Ilene sat back and just watched her brother.

"Ilene."
She turned to the door, but knew who it was before she saw him. Alan came in, and sat next to the bed.

"How is he?" he asked. Ilene knew Sydney already told him everything there was to know, but his asking was out of concern.

"I don't know," she said. "But he'll get better; they wouldn't have released him from the hospital otherwise."

Alan nodded. "He was lucky no one recognized him."

Yes, that would have been bad.

The two sat in silence. Ilene continued to watch her brother's sleeping form. Alan seemed to as well, though she felt his gaze on her more than once.

"Ilene." She looked away from her brother. Alan suddenly looked nervous. He leaned forward and grabbed her hands.

Ilene's forehead crinkled. What's wrong?

"There's something—" He stopped and tried again. "I spoke with Sark earlier—"

He sighed and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "What I'm trying to say …"

But he didn't go beyond that. Ilene stared at him, puzzled by his behavior.

"He's trying to ask you to marry him."

Ilene gasped, but turned to her brother. His weary eyes were open, and he didn't try to hide the annoyance in his gaze.

Ilene turned back to Alan. His mouth was open, surprised at Julian's interference. Suddenly he smiled and nodded.

"Will you marry me?" He whispered it as if only she would hear it, but Ilene still caught her brother rolling his eyes.

Her heart sped up and beat loudly. She could feel blood rushing to her head, and she pressed a hand to her warm cheek.

What are you waiting for!!

"Yes!" She practically leaped into his arms and kissed him. His lips were warm, as always, and she hugged him tight. I'm getting married—to Alan! Alan's whole body seemed to sigh in relief.

She heard a groan from behind her, and knew it was Julian.

"Oh sure," he muttered. "First you ask my permission when I'm gagged, and then try asking her to marry you when I'm asleep."

"Evidently not asleep enough," Alan said, a teasing smile on his face.

"Hey, you'd still be stumbling if I hadn't woken up." Julian seemed to smile, despite his weakened state. That just made Ilene smile even more. He approves. Not that I need that, but . . . Julian's opinion always mattered to her. They were close.

"Congratulations, to both of you," her brother said. He let his eyes close, and slipped back under in sleep. Ilene smiled at her brother. The love she had for him, and would always have, almost made her sad that he was so unhappy with life.

Alan hugged her and placed a long kiss on her lips.

"I love you," he whispered. Ilene couldn't help but grin.

"You better." With a teasing look, she kissed him back.