Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Author's note: Thanks go to phi4858 once again for constant support; hopefully you will enjoy the rest of this story as I am getting to the point now, thanks.
LOS ANGELES.
He looked up at her entrance; if he was shocked to see her it didn't reach his expression.
"Hello Sydney" He greeted with a casual nonchalance that made her want to reach over and smash his smug face into the desk.
Sloane stared back at her as if her holding a gun in his face was a usual occurrence.
"You killed him you son of a bitch" She felt the rage taking over pushing the cold clinical professional aside.
She grabbed the back of his head roughly, pushing the barrel tight to his temple.
"He was the closest thing I had to family Sydney, it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do" The rhetoric had started, lies and falsehoods leaving his lips with such ease.
She smashed his face hard into the desk, pulling him up again so she could see the results, A thin trickle of blood emerging from the wreck that had been his nose only seconds before.
"He was a better man than you could ever be" She spat the words like venom, For so long she had not know her father and when she had finally been able to see him for what he was, he had been taken from her.
She moved back to stand before him, the gun turned back onto him, she looked hard into his face. She saw no remorse no sorrow for his sins. He barely even acknowledged his smashed nose.
"I know you Sydney, You're not a killer" He smiled slightly at that, as if he had already won this game.
She laughed at that, a cold dry sound that sent a chill down his back, uncertainty flashing briefly in his shark like eyes.
"Two days after his funeral I got a photo pushed under my door, my father meeting Sark" She remembered it so vividly, every moment after that etched into the very fiber of her being. She stared through Sloane as she recounted her story to him.
"I found him in Austria, He seemed genuinely surprised to see me…I was…so full of anger, he had taken my father from me just when I had found him" She smiled distantly, the memory so clear in her head. Sark smiled back at her from where he now stood behind Arvin Sloane.
Then she remembered how she had left him, broken, damaged beyond repair. A hint of grief flashed across her apparitions face as if he too had just seen the images that had flashed across her memory.
"I didn't even give him the chance to speak, to explain himself, he took my father" She recalled how Sark looked betrayed, hurt even that she would be aiming her weapon at him. She remembered how he had looked about to say something when she had put the first round through his perfect left eye. What was once a brilliant sapphire of blue was now a mess of blood and vitreous fluid slipping down his cheek like a sickening tear.
"I shot him till I had emptied my clip even thou I knew that the first shot had killed him".
The memory of his body dancing in the chair as 14 more bullets pounded into it. She thought she saw a wince from her now dead companion as he shifted uncomfortably behind Sloane's chair.
"You know I didn't even feel guilt, I felt jusfied, I walked out of there satisfied that justice had been served."
Now Sloane looked less sure of himself, she had murdered someone she had thought killed her father in cold blood and now he, Jack's real killer was sat in front of her, unarmed and unprepared.
"Sydney, you can't do this, you're father's assassination was sanctioned by the CIA." He looked pleased by the brief shock that registered in her eyes.
" He was defecting to work with your mother, Sark was facilitating that move, with Jack's talent and knowledge the CIA simply could not afford that."
She sighed outwardly.
"You don't understand do you Sloane, I don't care anymore, you personally have taken so much from me. It doesn't matter why anymore ,just that you did." She said the words as if she were talking to a child. Her idealism and illusions of good versus evil had long since faded away.
She had grown tired of this conversation, tired of Arvin Sloane's excuses and justifications. She stared down at this twisted little man with nothing but contempt.
"Sydney please…." He didn't get any further than the beginnings of pleading for his miserable existence before the first .45 caliber round smashed into him leaving parts of his perverse brain splattered over the wall behind him.
A look of disgust crossed the features of ghost Sark as he brushed at traces of imaginary brain matter.
"Have you any idea how much this suit cost Bristow?" he said crossly.
Okay sorry I know it took it's time coming but please forgive me it's a world cup year.
RAVEN