Golden Child Sydney has finally reached a new level of happiness in her life: Her first baby. But what if the baby she longed to hold for nine long months is the force behind the complete change in the man she loves, and the result of a brief lapse in judgment?
Chapter 4: Copper Penny
Disclaimer #1: I don't, nor did or will I ever, own any aspect of Alias. All recognizable characters and plot strands belong to JJ Abrams, not to me.
Disclaimer #2: The basis for this is not mine, either. It originally belonged to Aiden Burn. See Chapter 1.
Disclaimer #3: I'm a die-hard S/V shipper. Please don't shoot me. This fic is Sarkney, and the particular scene Aiden Burn laid out caught my imagination. It was by no fault of my own, the story simply possessed my pen. And my keyboard.
A/N: Anders122, this is sort of loosely placed somewhere after season three. And I do mean loosely. I had no real time frame in mind when writing. I guess it's completely AU aside from the little things I used that ground it as being after season three.
Sydney's eyes roam the room restlessly, seeking out every mode of entry, exit, and everything in between. She holds baby Julian close to her chest. The small room that serves the hospital as a visitor's lounge serves them well enough as a hide away for her to rest for a while. Sark herded her in here over an hour ago, locking the door carefully behind them and settling Sydney on the floor out of view of the thin window in the door before handing her Julian. She still can't decide how far she can trust Sark.
They sit in silence for long minutes, neither sure what can be said. Both know what occurred the last time they were on the same side; the result lies sleeping in his mother's arms.
"Shh, Jay," Sydney murmurs when Julian grows restless. "Mommy's right here," she whispers lovingly.
The baby continues to make small noises until he finally lets loose a sound closely akin to a howl. Sydney bounces and jiggles him, but looks at Sark warily.
"What is it?" he asks, looking at the child and scooting closer to her in concern. "What's wrong with him?"
"He's…he's hungry," Sydney says uncertainly.
Sark's face actually reddens as he pushes to his feet to stand with his back to her.
"Don't let me stop you," he says quickly.
"No. I don't trust you," Sydney says disbelievingly. "I'm not nursing him now."
Sark spins, a reluctant expression in his eyes.
"Sydney, if someone hears a baby crying behind a locked door, then hiding in here isn't very effective any more, is it?" he asks.
Sydney gives Sark a look fit to kill, but resignedly unties the lacing holding the top of her gown together. Julian quiets almost instantly, but in such close quarters Sark can still hear the suckling noises he makes from the other side of the room. Sydney's face reddens, but she knows there is nothing she can do.
Several long minutes stretch out, the only sounds in the room coming from the baby nursing. Then the door handle rattles.
Sydney jumps and a gasp escapes her lips. She lumbers stiffly to her feet, jarring Julian in the process; he begins to cry again.
"Who's there? Is it Vaughn?" Sydney mouths in a panic.
Sark puts a finger to his lips, then gestures at the baby. Sydney just shrugs.
"I can't help it," she says softly, fear lacing her voice and causing it to shake.
Suddenly, they hear a faint clicking noise, and, looking down, Sydney sees the center of the lock on the door jiggle slightly.
"Oh sh-…crap!" Sydney hisses. "Julian," she says automatically. "He's picking the lock!"
Sark snags her wrist and pulls her forward another door.
"I know. I see. Come on," he says, seeing her chewing her bottom lip.
He turns the handle, but the door doesn't open.
"It's locked!" Sydney cries, hugging her baby to her chest in fear.
Sark silently pulls a long, thin case from his back pocket.
"Hold this," he says simply, handing her the case as he pulls out two thin rods and begins to fiddle with the lock.
"Julian, he's almost got it," she says, her voice rising in pitch.
"So do I," Sark says calmly, hoping to keep Sydney calm as well. He's never seen her not completely in control, not even in their time together. "Got it," he says sharply, shoving the door open and pulling Sydney through. He barely closes the door behind them before he hears Vaughn slam the door in against the wall. He doesn't have to wonder if she heard it too; the tiny whimper that escapes her is the only answer he needs.
They are in a huge file room. Sark leads her up one aisle, across, down another, but he finds no door out of the room. Vaughn is opening the door, a savage growl escaping his throat. Sydney smothers a horrified cry, instead only uttering a tiny frightened moan.
"You'll pay, bitch!" Vaughn yells.
To Sark's surprise he feels Sydney's hand at his back, pressing closer to him for protection. He reaches back and takes her hand, pulling her closely behind him as they thread up and down the aisles.
At one point, Sark looks back over his shoulder and sees tears in Sydney's eyes. It is not fear that fuels them but the very definite realization that Vaughn has lost his mind. Gone mad. He is bona fide crazy. And she believes it's all her fault. Sydney wonders why Sark is doing this, even as some part of her mind still registers the danger she's in, unable to do much in way of self-defense.
Suddenly, there is a door. Where was she? Snapping out of whatever panic filled fog she was in, Sydney follows Sark through the door with Julian held tightly in one arm. Her other hand was…
"Shit," she mutters, barely audible.
Sark feels her stumble slightly as she snatches her hand from his, but he says nothing as she puts the hand on the baby to hold him more securely. She seems to have gotten herself back in check, and she keeps up as he leads her through several more doors and across the hall to an empty room.
"We can't stay in this hospital," Sark says, his voice so low she can barely hear him as he moves around the room nervously.
"And where the hell do you propose I go?" Sydney snaps, still angry from discovering her hand held tightly in his. "I hate this, but I can't do it. I have nowhere to go that he won't find me. He knows me too well, Julian. And I know well enough that I can only take three, may be four more hours like this before I am through."
Sark shocks her by stepping directly in front of her and grabbing her by the shoulders as he would have grabbed her hands were they free.
"Sydney, I need you to trust me again," he says urgently, making his accent all the more pronounced. "For our baby if not for yourself. I have a car nearby…"
"I have no clothes. They're all in the room, and clearly I can't go back there," Sydney says resentfully. "Do you honestly believe no one will question a woman in patient attire walking out with a newborn baby?" Her eyes glower out at him like hot coals through the pasty fatigue already claiming her features.
Sark grins, but quickly sobers.
"Sydney, do you believe we can't get out without being see? I will get you clothes, whatever you need. Sydney, please. I need you to trust me…for the baby."
They have been driving. Endless, worry filled hours of checking rearview mirrors, going in circles to lose tails they may not see or to draw them out.
Baby Julian is nursing again, but Sark is getting used to the soft noises he makes. He sees the exhaustion clearly splayed across Sydney's every feature. He watches from the corner of his eye as she twice nods off, her chin touching her chest before jerking awake. Her moments of complete panic following her regained consciousness are evidence enough to her emotional confusion as well.
Sydney sighs as she lays Julian in her lap and rebuttons the cheap blue jean blouse Sark had produced from a dollar store near the hospital.
"I believed you could change nine months ago," she says plaintively, leaning her head back and closing her eyes wearily. "I know now how you used me. That you were only trying to distract me long enough for your associates to raid my employer's offices for that damned Rambaldi manuscript. It meant nothing to you," she says, defeat in her voice.
After a moment, Sark shakes his head in disbelief.
"How can I answer to charges like that, Sydney? If I answer as quickly and surely as I would like to, you'll instantly be assured that I'm lying now as I lied to you then. Regardless of my words, they all sound the same to you."
Lemme see if I got my point across in Sark's little speech there. Translate it from Sark-ese, if you will. It'd be really helpful if you would when you REVIEW.