Chapter Two: Fantasies Fulfilled
Sydney decides Sark discovering Allison's dead body, isn't the best house warming gift. She drags the body into the kitchen. That's when she hears the front door open, and Sark call out Allison's name. Sydney looks around the kitchen and grabs the butcher knife.
She once had fantasies about Sark, always the same storyline: she gutted him with a blade and watched him bleed to death. Now, it appears her fantasies will come truly (finally, something will go right for Ms. Sydney Bristow).
Sydney exits the kitchen and finds Sark standing in the middle of the wreckage holding a fireplace poker.
- You woke up? He asks, still cheeky. He shows no concern for the mess.
- About two days ago, figured I'd pay my old friends a visit.
- Having a nice visit?
- It's been wonderful, Sydney says. Where the hell is Vaughn?
- I don't know, Sark says. I haven't heard from him since he chopped your mother up into little pieces and fed them to his dog.
Her mouth falls agape and her stomach hurts. She chokes out: what?
- Your beloved killed your mother, about… oh… a year after you were taken. I heard he tortured her for days.
- That's impossible. Vaughn would never do that.
- There's video footage somewhere, I think McKenas had the hard copy.
Sydney hurls her butcher knife at Sark, but he ducks and blocks it with the poker. Sark advances towards her, swinging his poker. Sydney ducks and punches Sark in the stomach. Sark retaliates by jamming the poker against her back, missing her spinal cord by centimeters. Sydney screams in pain, but Sark knocks her down and pins her to the ground. She struggles but he tightens his grip.
- You know, Sydney, I once had dreams of you in this position.
- Charming, I'm sure your wife loves to hear that.
- She doesn't mind, for these dreams were before I realized what you were capable of. You could not pay me enough to be Mr. Vaughn.
Sydney drives her nails into Sark's wrist until his hands turn white and her nails leave marks. She knees her in the stomach and they both reach for the poker.
- Sydney shouts: who's The Man?
- There's a new 'The Man' every week.
- Who's this week's?
Sydney kicks Sark off, rolls over and grabs the poker. She crawls for her knife and then rises. Sark, meanwhile, grabs the fireplace shovel and poised himself for attack.
- Where's Allison? He asks.
- I have her tied up in the kitchen. Congratulations on the baby.
Sark narrows his eyes and with that he knows. Sark recklessly swings the shovel at Sydney and Sydney swings the poker at him. They fight, but neither gain the upper hand; at worst Sydney slashes Sark across the arm and Sark hits Sydney's shoulder with the shovel.
- I'm going to kill you, Sark says.
- Who's the Man?
- F-ck off, you c-nt.
Sark whacks Sydney in the stomach, then grabs her hair and throws her into the bookcase. Sydney curls up in a fetal position, trying to recompose herself. Sark hits her with his shovel, over and over again. He lets a tear drop fall. She extends her arm for her poker – Sark crushes her fingers until his boots. She screams. She grabs the butcher knife and stabs Sark in the calf. Sark winces, giving Sydney the chance to hit him in the kneecaps with her poker. He goes down.
Sydney shoves the knife up against Sark's throat. Now, she says, you are going to tell me everything.
- You can rot in an ignorant hell.
- Why don't I remember anything?
- I don't know.
- Who shot me? Was it Allison?
- No.
- Then who was it?
- The Man.
Sydney presses the knife harder against Sark's throat. She asks, where can I find The Man?
- I don't know.
- Yes you do.
- McKenas Cole.
- Cole? Sydney remembers him from the SD-6 break-in; however she thought he was in custody. She asks: how did he break out of custody?
- That's a good story: your father.
- My father? Why would he do that?
- Does anyone know Jack Bristow's true motivations?
- I think you do.
- He's probably attempting to master the act of resurrection. Sydney doesn't answer. Sark declares: Jack's dead; been dead for years.
- How?
- Irina had him killed after you were taken.
- Why?
- Because he was The Man.
Sydney fights her emotions. She will cry later, right now she wants information.
- He was?
- Yes.
- Who is now?
- Sark laughs, I'm the Man.
- Stop being smart. Tell me who The Man is and where I can find him. Sydney slice a small slit in Sark's throat. He gasps.
- The Man is the Man.
Sydney enlarges the slit.
- The Man's location is unknown.
- Who would know?
- McKenas Cole.
- Where can I find Cole?
- At the Man's Headquarters.
- And where is that? Sydney's knife begins to draw blood.
- Wherever they moved it to.
Sydney grows frustrated by the questions and feels the tears behind to win out. She has one final question for Sark.
- What happened to Vaughn after the killed my mother?
- He lived an exceedingly happy life, Sark says.
- You're lying.
- Maybe I am. Maybe I've been lying all along. You don't know, you don't remember anything.
Sydney cuts deeper and Sark gasps. He says, Mr. Vaughn hasn't seen you yet? How shocking. He wasn't standing over your bed with his little smirk and in his hand…
Sydney slit Sark's throat.
Then, she pushes herself off of him and starts sobbing.
Forty-seven hours ago she awoke.
Her limbs screamed in pain. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to move her head. She laid in a hospital bed, alone and in the dark. Trying to sit up, she screamed out loud. After a few minutes she got her arms moving again. Next put both hands on the mental bar, pulling herself upright. She moaned in pain, but it came easier than she expected.
The drapes were pulled on both the door and window. It looked as if she had been there for days – the flowers beside her bed were wilted and dry.
She shouted for help.
Santa Barbara: the last thing she remembered. Vaughn and she were leaving for Santa Barbara that evening. Vaughn dropped her off; she walked into her house; she ate ice cream with Francie; she checked her voice mail; she got Will's message; and then she killed that woman – that woman who had killed her two best friends.
She shouted more in utter confusion, wondering why her father or Vaughn haven't rushed into her room by now; or why no armed guard stood outside her door, a standard safety procedure for wounded agents.
It felt like she shouted for hours. She pulled out the IVs; then tried to get out of bed. She fell onto the floor. Where was everyone? Vaughn, she shrilled. Vaughn! Michael!
Determined, she got to her feet and started pacing the room, trying to gain her strength back. She cried. Her father and Vaughn clouded her thoughts; along with what room was Will in. What happened to Francie? How long as she been out?
BRISTOW, SYDNEY.
Sydney grabbed the file at the end of her bed. She flipped open the cover and gasps.
It said – in French no less – she had been in coma for four years at the local Monteběllard hospital. She suffered from a head tramua due to a gun shot to the the head. Every Thursday and Monday she had psychical therapy to pervert quadriplegia. She reviewed the files to find on the last page a note from the doctors: if her state changed or she woke up, call Michael Vaughn at 334931001.
She had no memory of this. This wasn't correct; someone was playing a sick joke. Four years couldn't have passed. These were lies. Where the f-ck was Vaughn? While Sydney memorized Vaughn's number the hospital staff rushed into her room. She said to them:
- Remercier Dieu ! Où le médecin de tête est ? Il doit y avoir quelque erreur ! Je dois parler avec Michael Vaughn tout de suite!
The staff grabbed her arms and pulled her back towards the bed.
- Non ! Arrêt ! Qu'arrive-t-il ! Je dois parler avec Michael Vaughn ! Arrêt !
They tried strapping her down, but she fought back; she pushed the nurses to the ground. She rose from the bed as a doctor with a large needle walked in. Like hell, Sydney thought as she grabbed one of the IV polls and used it as a weapon.
The doctor paused and put up in hand in faux-surrender
- Mademoiselle Bristow, se calmer s'il vous plaît. Nous voulons vous aider, mais vous devez coopéré!
- Où est Vaughn?
- Nous avons connecté juste M. Vaughn. Il a dit que vous nous donnons des sédatifs à sa visite demain
- Foutaise! Où est Vaughn?
- Il a dit qu'il serait ici demain! Maintenant, se calmer!
Sydney screamed in English: I will not calm down, you insensitiveness f-ck!
She whacked the doctor across the head and ran for her life. Her legs burned and she could barely breathe by the time she reached the stairs, however, she couldn't stop. The alarms sounded, but fear of capture eluded her. She thought of was her four missing years: the doctor said Vaughn would be here tomorrow. Tomorrow? His phone suggests Nice is his current location, only a few hours away. What would cause Vaughn to tell her doctors to sedate her until he showed up? Nothing. Vaughn would never say or do those things – which only means: someone was using Vaughn's name.
Who?
Sydney slammed through the door and ran into the hospital's parking lot. She stole the first car with a cell phone. She sped away and dialed the CIA's number, giving them her agent code.
However, the code was invalid – along with Vaughn's and her father's (even Weiss's and Dixon's didn't work).
- I have to speak to Deputy Director Kendall! Sydney b-tched at the receptionists.
- I'm sorry, Miss; there is no one here by that name!
- That is bullsh-t! I have to speak to Deputy Director Kendall, immediately! Tell him that Sydney Bristow is on the phone, she just woke up in a French hospital and she must speak with Jack Bristow or Michael Vaughn!
- I'm sorry Miss!
- PUT ME THROUGH!
- It's against protocol.
- Screw protocol
- And Against National Security, the receptionist matched Sydney's tone and volume; then she subsequently hung up.
Sydney pulled the car over on the road and sobbed. None of this makes any sense. Vulnerability rocks her – for the first time she turned six she doesn't know what to do. She needs Vaughn and her father. She needs answers.
She remembers his number: 334931001. What else could she do? She dialed it, but no one answered; she tried ten times, and each time no one answered. She banged her hands against the steering wheel. Then, she took off down the road, driving at ridiculous speeds until she found the nearest pay phone.
She tried the CIA again. This time another woman answered the phone and Sydney tried another approach. She told her she had a piece of critical Rambaldi related information and was willing to make a deal. They put her through. Those f-cking idiots, Sydney thought.
A man she recognized answered the phone, Yes?
- Dixon? Sydney says, so happy.
- Yes?
- Marcus Dixon?
- Who is this?
- Sydney Bristow.
- That is impossible. Sydney Bristow died five years ago in a house fire.
Five? Her medical reports said she had been in a coma for four years, not five.
- I died in a house fire? What about Will and Francie?
- They are both dead.
- Dixon, please, I must speak with Vaughn.
There was a pause, deep and thoughtful. Dixon then said: listen to me, right now. I don't know who you are or what you're trying to pull, but Sydney Bristow is dead and I don't know any Vaughn.
- Dixon, Vaughn? She restated.
Why is Dixon acting like this? Sydney suddenly realized she must have awoken to a parallel universe. Sydney says, Vaughn! My CIA handler when I was a double agent, and then my boyfriend. Michael Vaughn!
- I don't know any Michael Vaughn.
- Then let me speak to my father.
- I don't know your father.
Dixon hung up. Sydney screamed. She slammed the phone booth door as she exited and started to pace, thinking about who could possibly have done this. That woman, Allison… Allison… something, what was her name? Allison Doren. Allison killed Will and Francie. That woman would was apart of it, she would know what happened.
Sydney got into her car and dried her eyes. She found a piece of paper and a pen and wrote down her list. It had four names on it:
1. Allison Doren
2. Sark
3. Arvin Sloane
4. Mom
She would find out the truth.
Sydney sits in the middle of Allison and Sark's living room. She deeply breathes once; then stands up. She takes out her list and finds a pen. She crossed Sark off her list.
She also crosses off her mother's name and replaces it with McKenas Cole. She exits the house, gets in her car, and drives off to track down Cole. Sloane could wait, right now Cole would lead her to The Man and The Man would lead her to Vaughn.
Two down.
What Sydney does not know is a blonde sits in her sports car and watches the whole event take place. As Sydney leaves the house, the blonde places a phone call. She informs the other line, Sydney just killed the Sarks.
- What did they tell her?
The blonde recounts the killings and says she uploads the video footage as she speaks. Then she asks, What if he tries to make contact?
- Kill him.
Yes, sir, she says; I'll see you tonight. The call ends and the blonde goes about her business.
/end chapter