Foul-Weather Friend, Chapter Twelve, Part Three (original) (raw)

Title: Foul-Weather Friend
Author: waking_epiphany (Jamie)
Rating: HARD R (NOTE THE RATING CHANGE), for language and sexy situations
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me; they belong to J.J. Abrams and Bad Robot.
Pairings: Sark/Sydney, implied past Sydney/Vaughn, implied past Sark/Lauren, implied past Sark/Alison.
Timeline: Estimating that the end of season 4 ended in the month of May, consider this to start in July of that same summer.
Summary: After suffering series of debilitating headaches and blackouts, Julian Sark takes a doctor-recommended leave from the second oldest profession in the world, espionage, only to be pulled right back into the thick of things at the arrival of a strange, scarlet envelope at his home. It contains intel concerning his longtime mentor, Irina Derevko, and there is only one other person who can help him find her. Sydney Bristow has left her life as a CIA operative to start a new life in anonymity after her sister, Nadia, is left in a coma and her fiancé, Michael Vaughn, is killed by Prophet 5, a mysterious terrorist group. She is trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered existence when a familiar enemy and sometimes associate crashes back into her life. Reluctantly, they must work together to save something invaluably important to the both of them and in the in the process, maybe even save each other.
Author’s Note: Part 3 of chapter 12.

Irina Derevko stepped out of the darkness and into the light. Nadia rushed to her mother and the older woman enveloped her in a tight embrace. Sydney simply stared at her mother, not really believing her eyes. She turned to Sark, who was slowly leaving Sloane behind. He came and stood by Sydney's side.

"What are you waiting for?" He asked her quietly, and she inclined her head toward him. Irina looked up from Nadia and regarded the two of them with some indescribable emotion. It was somehow a cross between curiosity and amusement and she beckoned them. It wasn't until the door behind Irina swung open to reveal Jack Bristow did Sydney finally find the strength to move.

Sydney ran to him and without a word took her in his arms. Hugging him was not as familiar as it should have been and it felt out of practice and foreign. It felt like being away from home for a long time only to return and find it exactly how you had left it and it had only been yourself that had changed.

"Are you well?" Sydney asked against his shoulder, her voice muffled. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Jack replied, disentangling himself from his daughter. He smiled his wan smile. "Actually, he helped us, for what it's worth." Her father's smile didn't reach his eyes and Sydney knew something was off. Jack was holding an ice pack. He tossed it to Sloane, who caught it deftly, and placed it on his bloody and swollen face. Sydney stepped away from her father and glanced at her mother.

"I think some answers are in order," Irina said. "Sloane, please get out the antidote. We'll administer it and then I think you'll find the answers you are looking for."

"No," said Sark, speaking for the first time. The whole contingent turned to the Brit, who had crossed his arms in front of his chest, as if to protect himself. "I've waited 6 months for answers and I'd like some immediately."

"Julian," Irina started to say, but Sark cut her off.

"Don't call me that," Sark bit back at her. "You only call me that when you're trying to manipulate me, which only furthers my opinion that something is severely wrong with this picture."

"I think I taught you too well," Irina murmured, thought not unkindly. There was something like pride in her voice.

"Sark," Sydney said seriously, turning to her partner. "I think we should take it now. You can't afford to wait any longer. Not after..." Sydney let her voice drift off, though everyone on the pier knew for the most party what the pair had been through. Sark stared daggers at her, but in the end relented, as he felt he always did with Sydney.

Sloane handed the syringes of antidote to Nadia, who unceremoniously stuck both Sydney and Sark in the muscle and meat of their biceps. Sark felt no different and tendrils of doubt began to unfurl in his mind. He knew the truth of the serum would only come with time but he couldn't help feeling that his life was rushing by him quickly and he would be met with a bloody and untimely end.

When neither of them showed any signs of immediate distress, Sark addressed his mentor.

"I think the time for answers has come," he said coldly. "I think we deserve them."

Irina started to walk to the end of the pier, where the dock extended and several wooden chairs sat. She didn't wait for anyone to follow, but they all did, as it always was when Irina Derevko led. Sydney watched as Nadia surprised Jack with an unexpected hug and had the distinct pleasure watching her father blush uncomfortably. She, too, knew something was wrong but the feeling was overshadowed by intense relief of seeing her father and mother in good health. They reached the end of the dock and Irina sat in one of the chairs. Sloane sat, too, but everyone else deigned to stand.

"Where is The Messenger?" Sark was apparently leading the inquisition.

"The Messenger is here," Irina said cryptically.

"Who is The Messenger," Sydney cut in, anxious to know what she was already beginning to suspect.

Her father sighed. He looked serious and resigned, a mixture of emotion Sydney always looked upon with dread. "We three are The Messenger."

Sydney shut her eyes against the words, but they kept reverberating against the inside of her skull. How could she have let this happen again? How could she have been so blind? Why was she so ignorant of treachery when it was based within her own damn family? She felt small and insignificant, as if she hadn't been deemed important enough to handle the truth from her own parents.

"You must understand, if there had been any other way," her father started, but Sydney cut across him.

"There is always another way," Sydney spat at him. "...than lying to me. But that's always the first thing the two of you think of, isn't it? Too damn concerned about yourself and your own plans and feelings to see how it affects other people. And if it's your own children, all the better, because they understand the way things are with people like us. Well, I don't understand, I'll never understand the two of you, and I'll never forgive you for putting us through this."

"Sydney," Irina replied, a smile on her face. "We've been over this before. You have to trust that we know what's best for you."

"That's the whole point," Sydney yelled back. "There is no trust here! I am a grown woman, capable of knowing what I am doing instead of being your damn pawn! You couldn't just ask us to get all this...this stuff for you? Why couldn't you just get it for yourself? We could've been killed on this whole grotesque misadventure!"

"We were looking out for you the whole time," Irina chided. "But there were some...unforeseen difficulties."

"Unforeseen difficulties?" Sydney shrieked. It looked as if she was beginning to go on a tirade, so Sark interrupted.

"Perhaps it would be best to start from the beginning," he said through gritted teeth.

"Then the beginning starts with me," Jack said, his voice as serious and monotone as Sark had ever heard it. "And with my overprotection of Sydney. After Laura," Jack blanched, recognizing his mistake. He pushed on, conscious of Irina's hot gaze on him. "...Irina was out of the picture, and of course before as well, Sydney was, and continues to be, my number one priority. I wanted her to be her own person and wanted no one to be able to manipulate her to their advantage. I started Project Christmas for her."

"And I," Irina cut in. "Couldn't bare for my other child to be anyone but her own person. So Nadia received the Project Christmas indoctrination. And Sark," Irina said with more warmth in her voice than Sark was used to. "He became...more than a simple asset to me. I felt he deserved the same kindness for all he had done for me and would do for me in the future."

Sark felt an emotion coursing through him he couldn't quite name. It was part intense loyalty, something that was usually reserved for Irina anyway. But it was part affection as well, for a mother figure that wasn't ever entirely loving.

Jack continued then, the anguish clear in his usually inexpressive face. "I know more than anyone that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I knew that innocent children would be turned into sleeper agents. I knew that these agents would not be able to be brainwashed by other agencies to their advantage. They were to be perfect, loyal soldiers for the United States. That is, until your mother," Jack put a strange emphasis on the word "mother", like it was dirty. "... appropriated the project for her own country, and the process was disseminated to other countries from that.

"The program Irina and the United States government was a bastardized version of the I put Sydney through, so Sydney is the one, true archetype. So there are thousands of people roaming the earth with this programming running through their brains, some activated into service, others not. But the blueprints were there, waiting to be accessed.

"Meanwhile, or should I say before this programming came about, a group named Prophet 5 was formed."

Sydney visually stiffened. Her murder of Vaughn was fresh on the forefront of her mind, as was his betrayal.

"It started with Bill Vaughn's father, Bertrand Micheaux., also known as Timothy Vaughn. There had been whispers of a incomplete prophecies made by five separate prophets in completely different time periods. Rambaldi, Mother Shipton, Erik Jan Hanussen, Nostradamus and Rasputin all had incomplete prophecies that Hitler and his occultists somehow cobbled together to form one complete and terrifying prediction. He commissioned the painting and became obsessed with finding this ultimate weapon that would bring hell on earth and ultimate power to whomever wielded it."

"The weapon will be given to a man unto a million children are born," Irina intoned softly. "A heretic to our dogma, the Disbeliever will be the life giver of ultimate power. All souls will fall under his supremacy and weep with despair, for no flesh will be spared under his most devastating command. The innocent will be his soldiers and the guilty will fall to their knees for mercy, for all children are his children until the sky turns black and the world falls dead around him."

"Well, that isn't horrifying in the least," Sark muttered, not to anyone really.

"Are you the man?" Sydney asked her father. "The Disbeliever?" She felt she should know better by now; that prophecies were the mindless litany of power hungry zealots. But when it concerned her family, how could she ever be sure they wouldn't come true?

"No," Jack said at the same time Irina said, "Yes."

"It doesn't matter if he is or he isn't," Irina continued. "It's the fact that the Micheauxes, who were already Rambaldi obsessed, thought they could and would be the wielder of the weapon. They thought that the Project Christmas kids were their weapon."

"But I thought the whole point of Project Christmas was the inability to be brainwashed," Sydney said questioningly.

"It was," Jack said, the weariness evident in his voice. "But think of the Project Christmas indoctrination as a radio frequency that is only accessible to the person's respective government. What if someone found a way to tap into the frequency? Thousands, perhaps millions, of lethal men and women, in every country and every walk of life, under the control of one man?"

"It's insane," Nadia whispered. Sydney watched Sloane turn to his daughter with a curious expression on his face, but it quickly returned to its normal appearance.

"You are the last piece, Sydney," her father told her. "You were to be studied and primed without taking you out of your normal lifestyle. If you could be conquered then all the Project Christmas children could be conquered and used to whatever end Bill Vaughn and, eventually, Michael Vaughn, felt best. So Andre Micheaux was sent to become a friend, a trusted confidante, and eventually a lover to watch your progress and report back to his father's organization."

"What the Micheauxes didn't know," Sloane interrupted. "Was that there was a man, a contemporary to Rambaldi named Archdeacon Claudio Vespertini. Vespertini feared the implications of the technologies defined in Rambaldi's belief system: that science would someday allow us to know God. He attempted to pursue and destroy everything he could find and keep the name of Rambaldi invisible.

"Moreover, he wished to use his considerable power and intelligence to make all of Rambaldi's prophecies inert," Sloane continued seamlessly. "The formula encoded within the painting of 'The Five Prophets' was taken from a manuscript of Vespertini that was hidden away after Alexander VI died and later put into the painting as a failsafe if the prophecy should every come to pass. It was then that Vespertini ordered the name Rambaldi erased from all inscriptions between 1470 and 1496 and had the prophet's workshop in Rome destroyed. Rambaldi made no more predictions between the time his primary workshop was burned and his death in the winter of 1496. Vespertini sent what he thought were trusted men to burn a secondary workshop in San Lazzaro, which they did, but not before selling and trading the remainders of Rambaldi's work for whatever money Vespertini's men could get, as if the works had no value whatsoever. The unfinished prophecy of this ultimate weapon was among these manuscripts, as well as the journal that contained the page 47 prophecy and a majority of the 22 remaining Rambaldi artifacts, of which we are all very well acquainted with."

"So Vespertini came up with this formula in the 1400's," Sydney said slowly, not quite believing the influx of information being laid at her feet. "And this formula will...do what? Reverse the effects of Project Christmas?"

"No," Irina interjected. "You will always be under the influence of the Project Christmas indoctrination. You will never be able to be brainwashed. The serum we have to give you today will simply sever the frequency that would put you under the influence of the Michaeuxes."

"The Micheauxes are dead," Sydney said dully. "Vaughn was alive but I killed him." Jack, Irina and Sloane shared a look that the younger three people in attendance did not understand.

"I took care of Bill Vaughn," Sark supplied, as if he were commenting on the weather.

"Be that as it may," Jack continued, as if this information was not at all significant. "The Prophet Five organization is still very much active but is unaware of the formula Vespertini had concocted. That is why, very unfortunately, we had to go about getting the ingredients in this roundabout way. Whatever the two of you knew, especially Sark since he is more susceptible to Prophet 5's callings, Prophet 5 would know if they controlled you long enough to get back to them. So we let you think that we were in danger and the two of you acted as two would under the circumstances of your loved one's disappearances. Prophet 5 went unaware that they two of you were secretly collecting the ingredients that would sever your ties to them. They continued to observe you from afar and you came out of the situation...relatively unharmed."

"This doesn't add up," Sydney said, shaking her head. "What about the attack on Sark's New York apartment? If Prophet 5 didn't want us dead, and neither did you as The Messenger, who did that?"

"Just as there are extremists who follow the works of the five prophets," Jack said. "There are extremists whose sole reason for being is to stop the works of the Prophets from being brought forth, by any and all means possible. They were originally Vespertini's personal bodyguards and as each prophet was born and became powerful, Vespertini's followers grew through time. They are known as The Noble Blade. They have been waiting for the manifestation of the five prophet's divination since Rambaldi's time.

"So they've been waiting, biding their time by slowly picking off Prophet 5's followers until they received a sign. It wasn't until Project Christmas came about that they felt their true goal had been revealed. That the Project Christmas children this worldwide weapon and that they would all need to be destroyed. There is no other solution for the Noble Blade but utter and complete annihilation of all the sleeper agents. Every. Single. One."

"Surely they would know about the formula used to sever the control over the Project Christmas kids," Nadia said logically. "With so many years to research, and it being Vespertini's own invention, they would experiment, they would know it would work."

"They don't want to know," Sloane said, shaking his head. "They've been waiting for over five centuries for their purpose to be realized. Unfortunately, their purpose involves mass genocide."

"And who would ever think of indulging in mass genocide for their own twisted beliefs?" Sydney asked pointedly to the group. Nadia had the decency to look abashed for her father, while Sloane simply shrugged.

"Sevogda was regrettable," was all Sloane had to say about that. Sydney made a motion to jump Sloane again but was steadied by a watery look from Nadia.

"So there's really no end to this," Sark said slowly. "Even if this antidote works and there are no more headaches, no more fugue states, whoever is running Prophet 5 now will be trying to find us, wondering why we defected. The Noble Sword will never give up on their quest to rid the world of all the Project Christmas children. What quality of life do you think the three of us will have if we're always running?"

"I don't think I've ever stopped running," Nadia muttered, mostly to herself.

"There are others we need to protect," Sloane interjected.

"Sloane," Irina said sharply, as if she wanted him to cut off this line of reasoning.

"No, Irina," Jack interjected quickly. "Sydney and Nadia have a right to know." Jack peered out into the ocean for a moment, as if putting together what he wanted to say. He looked back and forth between Sydney and her sister, before his gaze finally settled on Irina.

"Do you remember a photo I had, Sydney? I gave it to you after the fire," Jack started.

"The one of mom holding a baby," Sydney replied slowly. Nadia frowned.

"You told me you there was nothing to tell," Nadia said to Jack, accusatory.

"You said it was a niece," Sydney continued, not really hearing her sister. "But that is impossible. Neither Katya nor Elena had any children."

"Katya gave birth to a daughter," Irina told her children. "The result of an affair with a French diplomat named Laurent. Your cousin's name is Edie. Edie was taken away from Katya in jail, not unlike you were taken from me, my darling Nadia. I think it is now obvious why Katya pursued you so passionately. When Katya was released from jail she spent ten years searching for Edie. She found her and for a little less than a year they lived as mother and daughter. During that time Katya gave Edie the same treatment I had given all of you...to protect her. When Edie was eleven, men stole into their home and kidnapped the child. Sometime later Katya was given indisputable evidence that her daughter was dead."

"But she's not," Sydney supplied.

"No," Irina said. "She was taken by her birth father and hidden away. She eventually became a member French intelligence but she has been missing for some time. Katya is currently investigating a lead, but there might be a time when I will ask one, or all of you, to help my niece. It might compromise your new aliases and lives, but I will only ask. You are under no obligation to follow me."

"Excuse me, new aliases?" Sydney couldn't help the shrillness in her voice. "Are you telling us we're going to have to go into Witness Protection?"

"Oh, no," Sloane answered her. "That would be much too risky. We trust that the three of you and your ability to make new lives for yourselves. Hasn't that been what you've always wanted, Sydney? To live a nice, normal life?"

When Sydney didn't answer, Irina turned to Sark.

"And you, Sark? Will you protect what's yours? Surely you feel some responsibility for her." A significant look passed between the young, blond protégé and the older, regal mentor. Sydney was at a loss to recognize it. Sark looked livid and nervous at the same time.

"Uh, does she mean me?" Sydney asked the obvious. "Because I'm fairly capable of taking care of myself, if anyone didn't notice."

"Certainly not," Sark replied dully. "As if you were ever mine to begin with."

"Sark's secret is his own," Irina told Sydney, though her eyes sparkled with some ill-gotten knowledge. "I do not have the liberty to divulge it."

"Irina, what I have been set to protect is not my responsibility any longer," Sark said cryptically. "I don't think it was ever was. Whatever the case may it, she's on her own and that's all I will say about that matter."

Sydney continued to stare at Sark but he refused to look at her. How could they have been together for so long, gone through so much, and he not confide something this huge to her? And the something was female. Was his mother still alive? Did he have a sister lurking out there somewhere? Was it a former lover or something far worse? Had he conceived a child somewhere along the line and left the kid's mother before he could take responsibility for what he had done? Dozens of scenarios swirled through Sydney's mind but she didn't have a chance to address them before her father spoke up.

"The hour is getting late," Jack said to the group at large.

"I should get my father to a hospital," Nadia told her sister. "I'll call you later."

"Sounds good," Sydney agreed and the two sisters walked across the worn wooden boards of the pier and embraced each other. If they had to start living their aliases, like she had done with Julia Thorne, would she still see her sister?

"We'll see each other soon," Nadia promised, though Sydney knew it wouldn't be an easy promise to keep. Sydney released her sister and watched as Nadia hugged their mother. For a moment the two women wore identical smiles. Nadia crossed to Jack and gifted him a peck on the cheek. Jack coughed into his hand awkwardly. Sloane smirked at Jack, who nodded his head in goodbye. Sydney's former boss turned to her.

"Goodbye Sydney," Sloane said, with a tip of his ice bag. He motioned to Nadia and the father and daughter walked across the pier and into the sand. They climbed the dunes and into oblivion, as far as Sydney knew.

"So, what now?" Sydney asked her parents.

"I have been doing some preliminary work on your new alias," her father told her. "I have airplane tickets for us. We need to be leaving soon to get to the airport on time."

"Mom?" Sydney asked.

"I'll be taking Sark with me," Irina said. "I have a business opportunity that is in need of his distinctive skills."

"I see," was all that Sark said. An awkward silence passed between the foursome. Sydney looked off into the distant horizon, while Sark stared at Sydney and Jack glared at Sark. There was a sad, strange smile playing on Sark's lips that both Jack and Irina noticed.

Irina held the group in silent amusement. She kept a straight face, however while Jack scowled.

"Jack," she said, jarring the three others out of their reverie. "I think there are a few more things we need to discuss before you take off with Sydney. Will you two excuse us for a moment?"

Sark nodded and Sydney said sure. Jack, on the other hand, looked indignant.

"I think we've been over everything," Jack replied crossly.

"Jack," Irina said sternly. "Please."

She motioned him down the pier and, with a backward glance from Jack, walked the length of the pier and into the house.

"There's nothing else to go over," Jack fumed, in his quiet way of his. He watched his daughter walk with that sociopath up the dock and off to the beach behind the house.

"I know," Irina answered, perching herself in a nearby chair. "Don't you think you should give them a chance to say goodbye?"

"Goodbye? Goodbye?!" Jack said, clearly vexed. "Do you see the way he looks at her?"

"I do," Irina answered quietly. She rested her gaze on her former's husband's face, her eyes sad and knowing. "Do you know I've never seen him smile like that? Not ever."

"He's infatuated with her," Jack said seriously, pacing. "It's unhealthy."

"They've become so accustomed to taking care of one another," Irina said. "...that I think it will take some time for them to stop caring about each other."

"This is your fault," Jack accused her.

"No," Irina answered. "Honestly, Jack. Have you ever met a man that has met your daughter that hasn't fallen head over heels for her? Why do you expect Sark to be different?"

"Because he's a sociopath with homicidal tendencies that murders people for money."

"The same could be said about you. And me. And Sydney, for that matter."

"This is insane," Jack said, the vein in his temple throbbing with anger.

"Why is it so insane?" Irina mused, tucking her legs underneath her. She held Jack's gaze, capturing his brown eyes with hers. "No one will ever be good enough for Sydney. Sark is not a bad man. He is not a good man, but he is certainly not a bad man. He could be someone who understands her. He could be her match, someone that challenges her. She would be her Jack."

Jack felt his breath leech out of him.

"Damn you, Irina" he hissed, turning his back on her.

* * *

They were standing next to each other on the white sand beach, its unblemished surface occasionally married by pink shells. She snuck a glance at Sark, watching as his short blond hair catching the gentle ocean breeze. Neither of them had asked the other to move from the pier but they both started walking at the same time, like an invisible thread both pulling them both forward. They found themselves shoulder to shoulder, staring into the clear, blue ocean as if the truth was buried in its hidden depths.

"Are we going to talk about the secret you're keeping from me?" Sydney asked softly.

"No," Sark answered simply. "Are we going to talk about your newfound cousin?"

"No." Sydney replied. "I am just so damn tired of talking about my family."

"We don't have to talk. You know, there was a time when you and I standing in generally the same vicinity would generate in only one, easy response," Sark reminisced. "Kill or be killed."

"Did you ever really try to kill me?" Sydney asked.

"Yes," Sark said emphatically. "I really, really did."

"Some days I miss that," Sydney reminisced. She didn't look at him when she continued. "I think I'll miss this more, though."

"You'll be surprised I'm not excited to go back to the way things were," Sark said, with a small laugh that didn't really denote amusement.

Sydney sighed. It was a tired sound. "So...what do we do now? What happens if I go my way, and you go yours, and we meet somewhere down the line?"

"We could fall back into our old roles," Sark said slowly. "...trading quips and bullets, you know, typical spy stuff. But then, I've never seen us as particularly typical. Or..."

" Or...what?"

"We tempt fate," Sark says, turning to her for the first time since the pier. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life being...normal?" Sark said the word like it was dirty.

"What's wrong with being normal?" Sydney asked, honestly perplexed.

"Everything!" Sark said icily. "You sitting at a desk all day, grading papers of snot-nosed ingrates is like spitting in God's face for giving you all gifts he gave you."

"Gifts? Gifts!" Sydney couldn't believe it. "I think you would know better than anyone that what we can do is nothing more than a curse...and it certainly wasn't bestowed upon us by God. What do you see me doing, Sark, if you're so smart? Where can I go now? What life could I possibly lead?"

Sark wanted to grab her. He wanted to shake her and kiss her and throw her down on this damn beach and fuck her senseless. Maybe then she would see there was more than being normal, being adequate, being good. He could see a life for her...a life of excitement and danger, of travel and sex. Not the normal life she always wished for but a strange and exciting life she never knew she wanted.

"There is a life for you out there," he said softly. "...where you would never have to compromise who you are." At first Sydney just stood there, confused. She took his appearance in: his bloodied lip, his bandaged wrist, the cocky stance of his legs and his hands, his beautiful, elegant hands stuffed in his pockets. But it was his eyes that gave him away. It was always his eyes, those piercing, endless blue eyes that shot right through her like a bullet and she knew.

"A life...with you?"
Sark shrugged. It was intended to be a carefree gesture, like he didn't care what she thought, but he did care, for once in his miserable life. He wanted this woman, wanted her so badly it hurt like a physical ache. He didn't just want her body, he wanted everything about Sydney Bristow. Stupidly enough he wanted her happy and for a split second he thought he could do that.

"You know we could never...I mean, it would never be..." Sydney drifted off, not sure what she was trying to say.

"It would never be love?' Sark finished for her. Sark wasn't even sure he knew what the word meant. He knew he felt like his chest was on fire, thinking she might leave and he would never see her again. He knew he'd sit up nights thinking about her, remembering her skin on his. He knew he'd seek her out, wanting to protect her, wanting her to protect him. He wanted her at his side, needed it, damn her.

"An extraordinary life led does not necessarily include love," Sark said, closing the distance between them. He didn't touch her, for fear she'd run. "There is a passion here. Can't you feel it? We could travel the world. We'd fight in Moscow and make up in Paris."

"That's insane," Sydney said, stepping away from him. Sark let her move away. She was flustered and sputtering. She was unsure, torn between everything she ever thought she wanted and the one person she never thought she needed. Absurdly, this pleased him.

"Why?" Sark asked. "We've been doing it for six months. Look me in the face and tell me it didn't feel right."

Sydney couldn't look at him. She wanted to, wanted to prove how wrong he was. She didn't trust her mouth to work like she wanted so she looked off in the distance, where the cloudless sky met the clear blue sea.

"I see," Sark replied softly. A beat passed, Sark waiting for her to answer, but pressed on when she wouldn't. "I know you don't like desperate men, Sydney. I am certainly not that. I will not stand here and beg you to go with me."

He took a step back from her. "There is an old, stone manor house in Galway. It overlooks the cliffs in the Connemara region to the west. I trust you'll be able to find it."

Sydney vaguely recalled Sark's origins were located in Galway. She nodded, and he continued.

"Six months from now, from this day, I'll be there. I'm not asking you to meet me there. I want you to make your own decisions, and if they bring you to me, then, so be it."

"Sark..." Sydney trailed off. "What would you have me do? You think I'd go around, stealing and killing for my mother to make a living? You have to recognize that unless you and I have a goal to chase, we have so little in common. That's not a real life. It's not the life that I want...despite the fact that my feelings for you are...conflicted."

"Is that your roundabout way of telling me how much you love fucking me?" Sark asked innocently. "Because I certainly think that's a good enough reason to stay together."

Sydney pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed exasperatedly. "See, it's not. That's not what normal people want. It's not what I want."

"It's what I want," Sark answered. "And you would want it, too, if you let yourself. I never saw myself as particularly patient, Sydney, but I will wait for you. I will wait 6 months, the time we spent together, for you to come to me. After that, I won't wait for you anymore."

"Sark...don't..."

"I will. I will wait. Just not forever."

"This is goodbye," Sydney said, trying to inject finality and sternness into her voice.

"For now," Sark replied, with a grin. He held out his hand. "Working with you has been a pleasure, Miss Bristow. It has been a destiny I have been glad to fulfill."

She grasped his beautiful, murderous hand in hers. She couldn't believe that she would wake up tomorrow and he wouldn't be there. She held on to him longer than she should have, but not as long as she wanted.

"Goodbye, Mr. Sark."

She let him go, feeling his hand slip from hers and feeling like he was taking a bit of her with him. She watched him turn his back to her and Sydney felt glad because tears began welling up in her eyes. The wind toyed with his hair as he walked, hair she had wound between her fingers. There was only a few feet separating them now but the distance was growing. The dread building up inside her was threatening to choke her. She knew she had to let him go, knew it was the right thing to do, but there was such an overwhelming sense of wrongness to watching him walk away that a word slipped out before she could stop it.

"Wait," she whispered, barely audible to even herself. She took one step forward. "Wait," she said, louder now, but the wind caught the one, tiny utterance and swallowed it. She took another small step toward him, and then another.

"Wait!" She was running now, running toward, marveling how far she had let him move away from her. Sark stopped and slowly turned around. He couldn't process it at first but after a second, yes, yes she was running to him. For someone to whom happiness didn't usually visit, the smile that stretched across Sark's face was so wide and genuine it threatened to break him. He didn't dare blink for fear the vision of her finally coming to him was a dream, some figment of his imagination that would shatter when he closed his eyes.

She was so close, he could almost smell her shampoo when he heard a curious sound, like a car backfiring. God, he must be in love with her, because his heart was beating like crazy and he felt like he was floating. Sydney was staring at him and she was crying, which normally wasn't so strange, but she had this look on her face, a horrific look, and he thought maybe she was changing her mind. He held out a hand to her, beckoning, feeling lightheaded and strange.

Sydney watched as blood blossomed on Sark's shirt at his abdomen, the red spot slowly growing larger and larger. She let out a sob and caught him in her arms before he could fall. She had seen this, seen this exact scene somewhere, but it had been her falling, her blood pooling up in the sand. She put a hand to the wound, the blood seeping out at an alarming rate, feeling so warm against her skin.

She turned her face to the dunes, where the shot had come from and saw a figure, solitary and dark against the white sand. She knew intimately the cut of the man's hair, the feel of his hands on her, the curve of his jaw and taste of his lips. Vaughn stood with the sniper rifle in his hand, staring at her, before shuffling painfully over the bank.

"Vaughn," she panted, putting pressure on Sark's wound. God, where were her parents? Didn't they hear the shot? She needed to chase after Vaughn, needed to feel her hands encircling his neck, but Sark's eyelids were fluttering and the blood simply would not stop.

"No, I'm Sark," Sark said thickly, feeling so damn cold. He was vaguely annoyed but the pain that had began to radiate from his abdomen was overtaking all other feelings by now.

"No, Vaughn shot you," Sydney said stupidly, not knowing why she was explaining. She needed to go after Vaughn but needed to stay here. Sark coughed and blood bubbled at his lips. Sydney moaned pitifully and shifted him, trying to stop the flow the seemingly endless flow of blood.

"Help," she called out, hoping her parents would hear her. Why hadn't she been shot? Why Sark? Why Vaughn? He was dead, she watched him burn, but now it was Sark dying. Sark, who she never thought would matter much to her at all but suddenly meant everything. "Help me! Help!"

"Sydney," Sark whispered. He was so cold and pale that Sydney shivered. Sydney caught movement out of the corner of her eye and saw her parents running from the house and down the beach toward her.

"Sydney," Sark repeated, his voice growing more and more faint.

"Yes, Sark, I'm here," Sydney said, her voice wavering with emotion. "You're going to be fine. My parents are coming. We'll take you to the hospital and -"

"Sydney, please," he mumbled. "...don't leave."

"I need to go find Vaughn," she said quickly. "My parents are almost here, they'll stop the bleeding and I'll be right back, I just need to -"

"Don't leave me."

Jack and Irina finally reached them and Irina skidded to a halt, putting her hands on top of Sydney's.

"It was Vaughn," Sydney hissed. "He's alive and he shot Sark. He isn't far, he's hurt," Sydney moved her hands from Sark's wound and pressed Irina's where hers had been. Her hand snatched out and grabbed a gun her father had in a holster across his shoulder. She checked the magazine and her father reached out.

"No, Sydney, you cannot pursue him now," her father said sternly. "Sark needs medical attention and you don't know if Vaughn has backup."

Sydney pointed the gun at her father. "Don't you dare try and stop me. Make sure he is alive when I get back or I'll hold you personally responsible."

She took off across the beach. Jack turned to Irina, who was hovering over Sark, her hands pressed against the painful wound. She took one hand off and reached into the band of her pants, pulling out a pistol.

"Make sure she doesn't get herself killed," Irina barked at him and Jack took off behind his daughter.

Sydney ran until her lungs hurt, but there was only more sand and sea. There were no footsteps, no tire marks, no indication that a man named Andre Michauex lived and breathed and shot a man she...loved? Certainly a man she cared against her own will and better judgment. He had vanished, like a bolt of lightning flashing in a storm and vanishing without a trace. She spun around, looking for something, anything that would make this right but she was alone and scared.

She turned back, feeling desperate and sick, to where she had left Sark and her parents. She felt the sand shift and move under her and suddenly she couldn't get back to him fast enough. She fell to her knees hiking up a particularly large dune and crawled over it, only to find herself face to face with her father. He was laying on his front, his face turned sideways in the sand. His eyes were closed.

She quickly turned him over and checked his wrist pulse. He was breathing and his heartbeat was steady. It was then that she spotted the tranquilizer dart, small and unobtrusive, sticking out of his neck. She pulled it out and threw it on the ground. Knowing there was nothing more she could do for him she sprinted to Sark, cursing herself for leaving him in the first place. Tears blurred her vision. What if he was dead, Sydney thought to herself. What if he was dying and I left him? He never would have left me...and I left him. Oh, God, what if he's dead?

She was almost there, just one more dune to cross, and Sydney tripped, her feet catching a dip in the sand and she went sprawling, tumbling down the bank. She hit something warm and solid and felt liquid seeping into her clothes. She turned herself over and found she had fallen and landed next to her mother. She too had a tranq dart jutting out of her neck. She check her mother's pulse and found it steady.

She pulled herself up to her knees and looked down at what she had rolled in. Blood pooled up in the sand and shone ruby red in the sunlight. She was covered in it, she saw, but there was no body, no Sark anywhere. Her hands groped over the indentation in the sand and in the pool of blood that proved he had been there, desperate for something, anything.

Even if he was dead, there should be a body. If he wasn't dead, he shouldn't have been able to walk. If someone else was there, why weren't her parents dead? Why wasn't she dead? Where was he? Where was Sark? Sydney's breathing came out in wracking, uncontrollable gasps and she put her arms around herself, rocking back and forth. She always thought she would be the one to leave him.

She had been so wrong.

* * *

Foul-Weather Friend Soundtrack, Chapter Twelve, Part Two and Three

1. Joel Plaskett, “Heartless, Heartless, Heartless”. Listen to when: While Sydney and Sark are walking back from the church and they meet Sloane at their bungalow.

Lyrics: Heartless, heartless, heartless Where’d you hide your heart? In the dark, the darkest darkness I’m coming apart In the dark This is how it feels To be under your thumb To be under your wheels

Lover, lover, lover Where’d you leave your love? In the bed, beneath the covers? Where push will come to shove I will leave And will not return I will make my mistakes And from them I’ll learn

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?tjyyztm2lib

2. Ingrid Michaelson, "Porcelain Fists". Listen to when: Sydney goes back to the church and Sark gets sick.

Lyrics: "Follow your heart", he said. Your heart will take you there. "Swallow your pride", he said. For pride is anything but rare. So I walked into your eyes without a raincoat on And in the salty sea, I find you're all but gone.

Take my hand, you're treading water I feel I am slipping away from underneath my toes Nobody knows Where is it she goes?

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?mdmdjuzmvez

3. Blue Foundation, "Eyes on Fire". Listen to when: The "Ghost in the Machine" makes an appearance and cuts Sark.

Lyrics: I’ll seek you out, Flay you alive One more word and you won’t survive And I’m not scared of your stolen power I see right through you any hour

I won’t soothe your pain I won’t ease your strain You’ll be waiting in vain I got nothing for you to gain

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?iinlzuqmcmv

4. Bell X1, "Eve is the Apple of My Eye". Listen to when: Sydney looks terrible.

Lyrics: And Eve said let's give it a try Now lead us not into temptation But no matter how hard I try When in the garden and Snake is a charmin' And Eve says let's give it a try Eve is the apple of my eye

And I lie behind you And a cradle you in the palm of me And I pat your hair down I think will we sink or swim? 'Cause we could do either on a whim

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?dugytmt2ntm

5. U2, "Bad". Listen to when: Sark and Sydney meet Nadia and Sloane at the beach.

Lyrics: If you twist and turn away If you tear yourself in two again If I could, yes I would If I could, I would Let it go Surrender Dislocate If I could throw this Lifeless lifeline to the wind Leave this heart of clay See you walk, walk away Into the night And through the rain Into the half-light And through the flame

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?m2ujzzny4im

6. The Tea Party, "The Messenger". Listen to when: Sydney and Sark discover who The Messenger really is.

Lyrics: got a letter from a messenger I read it when it came It said that you were wounded You were bound and chained You had love and you were handled You were poisoned you were pained Oh no, oh no you were naked You were shamed

You could almost touch heaven Right there in front of you Liberty just slipped away on us Now there's so much work to do Oh the door that closes tightly Is the door than can swing wide Oh no, not expecting to collide

For a minute I let my guard down Not afraid to be found out I completely forgot dear What our fears were all about Oh no, oh no there's no need to be without

If there's a chance I would take it (Take it) This desire I can't kill (No) Take my heart please don't break it (Break it) I will crawl to your foothill

I'm frightened but I'm coming Please baby please lay still Oh no I'm not coming for the kill

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?4nx1m0ymdzw

7. Ray LaMontagne, "Empty". Listen to when: The discussion of The Five Prophets, Vespertini, and The Noble Blade.

Lyrics: There's a lot of things that can kill a man There's a lot of ways to die Yes and some already dead who walk beside me There's a lot of things I don't understand Why so many people lie Well it's the hurt I hide that fuels the fires inside me

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?mtynq2ynzqm

8. Ahn Trio, "All I Want". Listen to when: Jack and Irina weigh in.

Lyrics: What all the tryin' is for. You come around, I feel so down I'm gonna drown 'Cause I know that you've fallen short

But do you know it doesn't change The way I feel 'bout you, at the end of the day? 'cause I know, that I all I want is what you got. All I want, is what you got.

Too many times, I have wanted To turn around and walk away Knowing deep inside, you can't provide What I need from you, anyway

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?uzgn10kd3mk

9. Sanders Bohlke, "The Weight of Us". Listen to when: Sydney and Sark say goodbye.

Lyrics:
There's a cold heart buried beneath The warm blood running deep Secrets are mine to keep Protected by silent sleep

I'm not ready I'm not ready

For the weight of us For the weight of us For the weight of us For the weight of all of us

Time has come, let us be brave Time has come, let us be brave Shake off all of your sins Time has come, let us be brave

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?jqy4jzd4m2n