Disclaimer: I do not own Alias or any of it's characters or themes. This story is intended for my own amusement and no financial gain is involved.
Summary: This is set sometime in the future. I've started writing it after episode 5.13 and I don't think it contradicts the series up to that point. Depending on where the final episodes go it may be set after the series ends or it may be AU after 5.13. As far as pairings and plot go, I'm not real sure where I'm headed. Only 2 things I know for sure and that is that everyone loves Sydney and Vaughn is dead.
"Bosco, you rascal," Sydney called out. "Those are my favorite shoes!" Sydney gingerly lifted a black manolo blahnik pump to survey the damage. "Completely ruined," she muttered to herself. Watching her from the doorway, the small Maltese puppy had enough sense to lower his head and look remorseful. "Oh, don't look so sad," she lectured him. "You know you aren't the least bit sorry and you'll be destroying another pair as soon as you get the chance." And then she laughed as she went to the closet in search of her black Kate Spade sling backs to replace the Blahniks for tonight's date.
Although he was loathe to admit it, Sydney had always been a crucial part of Sark's life. And now that she had retired, so to speak, he missed meeting her in the field. He had given her the money with the intention of keeping a loose eye on her. He merely wanted to know where she was at and if she was in any danger. But it hadn't been enough. A month after she left the hospital, he had flown to Tuscany to check the security of her villa when she was out. Then two weeks after that, he had situated himself at an outside café across from the open-air market where she did her shopping every Tuesday. And six weeks later, he had started running background checks and doing surveillance on everyone she encountered. Her housekeeper, her friend Sofia, the clerk she bought vegetables from, her dog breeder, and of course her dates. And he was a bit alarmed at how many there were. But yesterday he had really gone overboard. He had installed cameras in her villa covering every angle of every room. And he told himself it was only to be sure she was safe. And although he wouldn't admit it, he knew it was a lie. So he watched as a tiny ball of black fur attacked a pair of black pumps that he had been looking forward to seeing on Sydney. And he watched as she discovered the destruction and gave the pup a gentle scolding. And he watched her replace them with the other shoes. And he watched her laugh. And he saw the smile reach her eyes for the first time since Vaughn's death. And he smiled too.
Sydney dressed with more care than usual that evening. She was really looking forward to an evening at the opera, and she had to admit an evening in Carlos's company was always enjoyable. Suave, wealthy, funny, and very good looking, of all the men she had been out with Carlos was definitely her favorite. So Sydney took her time getting ready. She sat at her vanity in a pink satin robe that almost covered the triangular birthmark on her thigh, but not quite. Sydney passed over most of her make up and carefully applied a thin line of black liner to her upper lid, followed by a light black mascara, and a deep red lipstick. She pressed her lips together and then darted her tongue between them to be sure the application was even. Then she winked at her reflection as she picked up her brush. The brush was heavy, being mad of silver, and not very practical. But it made Sydney feel like a princess, so she used it anyways. She leaned forward a little and began running the brush through her hair. Next Sydney sectioned out her hair and began rolling it in hot rollers. And as she worked her way around her head, her robe fell open to reveal a pink lace negligee as decedent as the robe had been. Once all of her hair had been rolled, Sydney moved to the closet, no bothering to adjust her open robe and brought out the gown she had purchased for the evening and laid it across the bed. Sydney picked up a pair of old-fashioned stockings, the kind with a seam running down the back of the leg. They had always been her favorite style. She rolled them down, careful not to snag them with her nails and slowly pulled them on, first one leg and then the other. With her stockings in place, Sydney reached down to secure her feet in the sling backs, pouting just a little at the loss of her favorite pumps. And then she reached for the dress. She held it up for inspection and ran her hands over the soft silk. And then she draped it over her head, wiggling just a bit in order to pull it down and secure the zipper. On the hanger it had looked like an ordinary little black dress. But on Sydney? On Sydney it was amazing, and she knew it. She gave her reflection a cat-in-the-cream grin and headed for the door, picking up a small red clutch on her way.
She met Carlos in the foyer and his jaw dropped in amazement. "I . . . Uh, You . . . Um . . . Absolutely stunning," he managed. And Sydney couldn't help but giggle in excitement and feminine pride. "Shall we?" asked Carlos, still looking a bit in shock. "We shall," Sydney replied taking his arm. And the two walked out. Sydney thinking that the evening ahead was going to be all she had hoped and Carlos wondering what he could have done to earn such favors from the Gods.
Sark had spent most of the day in an attempt to ignore the images of Sydney's villa on his monitors. And it had been a partially successful attempt. But by 7:00 he could no longer deny himself, and so it happened that Carlos was not the only one to appreciate Sydney's appearance that night. Sark turned to the monitors as Sydney sat at her vanity and the pink robe had the effect of leaving him a bit dizzy. Sark sat carefully, knowing he should turn away, but instead took note of the triangular birthmark. How odd that in all the different costumes he'd seen her in he had never noticed this tiny mark. And he began to question whether or not he really knew Sydney Bristow at all. And as he watched her apply her makeup he wondered what other secrets she might have. Then she pressed her lips together and Sark stopped wondering. And when her robe fell open, he stopped thinking at all. And when Sydney began putting on her stockings, his throat went dry. And when she shimmied her hips to get into her dress, he stopped breathing. He didn't start again until he let out a gasp as she smiled at herself in the mirror. And when Carlos looked her over with a slightly possessive glint in his eye, Sark decided that it was a lovely night for the opera.