Dark Knight
*Author’s Note: This officially brings us up to
the events of the Prologue! Chapter 12 begins immediately after
Part Two: Secrets and Lies
Chapter Twelve: The Next
Step
I woke up in a dream today
To the cold of the static, put my cold feet on the floor
Forgot all about yesterday
Remembering I’m pretending to be where I’m not anymore
A little taste of hypocrisy
And I’m left in the wake of the mistake, slow to react
Even though you’re so close to me
You’re still so distant and I can’t bring you back
“With You,” Linkin Park
Twenty hours after he escaped
Pierre Dusique’s
The irony was not lost on him.
Nor was the impossibility of the situation. His Dream Girl was very real and very alive but every bit as unattainable as she had been his entire life – a beautiful fantasy that could never survive reality.
Okay, so admittedly he was still a
little unclear as to why
Irina had
ordered him not to reveal his face, his name, or his association with The Man
to
Just like he hadn’t dared disobey
it, even when
Allison shifted beside him, interrupting his steamy memories. The guilt landed heavily in his stomach.
Lying beside Allison, yearning
for
When Alli
met him at the front door of the Manor,
Alli was
the only woman
Nothing, that was, except his heart.
His guilt was compounded by the
nagging suspicion that this was exactly how Allison had greeted him after
playing Zachariah Ward’s mistress: as if she could never get enough of him.
Recalling Morgan’s cruel taunts about Alli enjoying
her undercover role,
I’m transferring my guilt onto
her, he reasoned, watching Alli sigh contentedly
in her sleep. I’m finding reasons to be angry with her so I don’t have to be
angry with myself.
His heart wanted to argue that he
couldn’t help how he felt about
But I do still love Alli. It’s more complicated now, true, but I don’t want to
lose her. I’m in love with her.
Or was it only fear of being alone
that anchored him to her side? If he could have
Sensing another headache coming on
(this one related to stress rather than impending visions),
Until Irina told him differently, he decided he would continue on in the position he’d held for the last two years.
Dawn was stealing over the horizon
and the rest of the household seemed to be asleep when
We would go down to my office
and talk for hours, about everything – his latest sexual conquests, problems within
the organization, Joey’s sudden interest in girls, the movie we saw over the
weekend…
But not now – not ever again. Morgan was gone, his ashes tossed out with the rest of the trash.
And Joey…They had laid him to rest
beneath a weeping willow at the bottom of the hill they used to sled down, in
an unmarked grave that Maurice had said a stumbling prayer over before
The four security guards on duty
nodded wordlessly at
Yet another worry for his overworked mind.
That thought had hardly crossed
“…immediately when he returned,” Irina was saying sharply.
Curious,
“I thought he should have time to rest.”
“We have to be careful,” Irina insisted, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial
whisper. “I don’t want our suspicions confirmed by him turning up dead. Without
him, I have no way to protect
In spite of himself,
When Irina swung open the door, he appeared absorbed in his work and oblivious to the argument in the hallway. She greeted him with a convincingly concerned, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”
“I keep late hours.”
And if she knew that my only
desire, from the moment Sydney pounced on me with that knife, has been to love
her daughter for the rest of my life – well, she could certainly do some damage
with that one.
Irina
settled into the chair across from
She wore a long flowing robe of sheer black satin – and quite possibly nothing else. Her face was clean scrubbed and her dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail. Irina Derevko was a beautiful woman; any man would have been blind not to notice.
For
After a while, Irina asked, “What did you think of my daughter?”
Although he had called from the
plane to report that
She’s testing me, he
realized, taking a much-needed moment to compose himself.
She suspects how I feel, and she’s determined to squeeze it out of me – by
any means necessary.
He remembered another unsettling fact he’d learned at Winslow: no one had ever withstood an interrogation by Irina Derevko. They either talked or died – or both.
Well, two could play her game of deceptive earnestness.
Looking her squarely in the eye,
Except for those few moments in
the laundry chute when she was in my arms and I could see how badly she wanted
to stay that way…
“She’s extremely loyal to her cause
and her country,”
Although she took
my word for it simply because we were both about to melt from the heat between
us…
Irina’s expression was unreadable. “Is that all?”
Remember, deceptive earnestness
– the most convincing lies contain some truth.
Irina’s catty smile told him she’d been waiting for that.
However, he glossed over it so smoothly that he saw a sudden flash of uncertainty in her eyes – the slightest doubt that she had Mr. Sark as pinned down as she would have liked.
“She also didn’t strike me as the type to put much stock in this Rambaldi manuscript.”
With a small shake of her head, Irina confirmed, “At this point,
Now we can add me to that list…
Resting his elbows on the desk,
He aimed for his most diplomatic
tone as he countered, “I have to admit I don’t understand this continued ruse.
You say that Arvin Sloane has yet to discover the Prophecy’s existence, but the
man is consumed by this Rambaldi quest – it’s only a
matter of time until he does. Then
He immediately regretted that last suggestion. Irina’s sly grin told him she knew how much he would like having her daughter at the Manor – for many more reasons than to ‘protect’ her.
But she let it go, replying
patiently, “The longer the Prophecy remains a secret, the safer
Reluctantly,
Yet
Which meant he
had to continue playing Caped Crusader no matter how badly he wanted to be part
of
Well, what did you expect –
permission to ring
Shushing his inner voice,
Irina bestowed one of her heart-stopping, 1000-watt smiles on him. When she crossed her slender legs, the robe fell open to the knee, revealing her tiny ankle and muscular calf.
If he had been susceptible to her
seduction,
As it was, she either respected
that his loyalty didn’t require such measures, or (which
But he was already finding that didn’t mean she wouldn’t tantalize him now and again.
“I always find the niceties of a
bureaucracy tiresome,” Irina commented, absently
tugging on a strand of her dark hair.
Accepting that the coyness was a
front,
He returned Irina’s smirk. “I’d be happy just being told what’s expected of me. Titles are optional.”
His directness again obviously
pleased her.
Irina matched his forthrightness. “I want you working with me. Even if you weren’t…who you are, your talents would still be wasted in this menial capacity.”
“The contents of this vault,” Irina nodded at the door behind him, “still need to be protected at all costs, and I trust you to do that better than anyone, since they concern both you and Sydney.”
Another veiled hint that she
knows I’m crazy about her daughter,
“So for now, I want you to stay here at the Manor. You’ll continue to oversee your division and report back to Khasinau. I’m adding to your responsibilities, though. I have a few front companies I’d like you to operate and some Rambaldi research I’d like you to conduct personally.”
Irina
leaned forward slightly, her eyes darkening with intensity. “But your primary
objective is to protect
He remembered his vow that one day
he would meet The Man and become just as important as Khasinau.
Well, he was on the fast track to accomplishing that, and it delighted him that
his link to Rambaldi was only partially responsible
for it; his hard work, talent and dedication had earned him Irina’s
trust and respect far more than his predestination. Otherwise, he knew she
simply would have kept him on a short lease while he looked after
The prospect of so much power made him giddy.
Irina shared in his smile, looking truly pleased by his happiness.
Still wary of her maternal
manipulations – eerie how she could switch from seductress to mother figure so
effortlessly –
Too bad she’s not as easy to
read as her daughter,
Just as right now he couldn’t deny that he wanted Sydney so badly he was about to jeopardize everything – his career, his relationship with Allison, his ability to throw Irina off the scent of his attraction to her daughter – simply to see her again.
A fool for women, that’s what I
am…
“I did notice something else about
His remark brought Irina up short. She had been standing, apparently prepared to end their meeting, but she sank into her chair again at his words.
“How so?”
“Well, when I found her, she…attacked me. With a knife.”
He noted the proud smile on Irina’s lips. That’s my girl, always looking after herself, she seemed to say.
“And?”
“I was able to fend her off, obviously, but it was close. She nearly stabbed me in the spine.”
Irina tilted her head at him, that damnable smirk appearing again. “I sense a request, Mr. Sark.”
Struggling to remain poised and not
succumb to a full-body blush,
Oh for fuck’s sake, just ask if
you can go spy on the girl and save yourself the humiliation!
To his surprise, despite the
laughter glowing in her triumphant eyes, Irina
readily agreed. “Absolutely. Why don’t you take, say,
a month? You can rent an apartment in
Her icy stare intimated that the consequences for falling short of those expectations would be dire.
Simultaneously relieved and
terrified,
For one mortifying second, he
thought Irina was either going to ask him why he
didn’t take her to
Instead, she offered, “I have some assignments I could use her on, if she’s agreeable.”
He despised himself for being so
glad Allison would be occupied by dangerous missions while he was trailing
around after
With everything settled,
Like mother, like daughter.
He held the office door open for
her as they left. “One more thing,” she said, rather nonchalantly, accompanying
him into the hallway. “You might want to think of a name to give
A name?
“You are,” Irina replied. “But if you keep popping up in her life, she’s going to ask for your name. I thought you’d want to be prepared so in the heat of the moment,” she smiled coyly, daring him to protest, “you don’t let the truth slip out.”
Chapter Thirteen: Lie To
Me
I think I’ve already lost you
I think you’re already gone
I think I’m finally scared now
You think I’m weak, but I think you’re wrong
I think you’re already leaving
Feels like your hand is on the door
I thought this place was an empire
But now I’m relaxed, I can’t be sure
If you’re gone maybe it’s time to go home
There’s an awful lot of breathing room
But I can hardly move
If you’re gone, baby you need to come home
‘Cause there’s a little bit of something me
In everything in you
“If You’re Gone,” Matchbox 20
“You’re leaving again?”
Though Allison posed the question
brightly,
Or was it trepidation?
After his meeting with Irina,
He woke up alone, showered, and was packing when Alli breezed in with her loaded question.
She had been swimming; she looked
so inviting in her tiny white bikini that
Nearly.
“Yes,” he answered, as evenly as he could with his heart thumping away in his throat.
No matter how hard he tried,
So telling her he was off to
“You’re going away for a while,” she observed. She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down from the doorway.
Feigning interest in packing,
Her eyes bore into him from behind, but he ignored it. Maybe if he pretended not to notice her growing rancor, she would decide it wasn’t worth a fight…
Yeah, right.
“Where to this time?”
Allison punctuated her terse inquiry by seating herself beside his suitcase so he was forced to look her in the eye.
Her jaw clenched around a clipped, “This involves Sydney Bristow, then?”
Playing it cool obviously wasn’t
working, so
Tossing the clothes haphazardly onto the bed, he knelt in front of Allison, lifted her hands off of her lap and pressed her fingers to his lips. “It does,” he confessed softly.
Although her gaze remained icy, Allison traced his lips with her index finger. “Are you recruiting her?”
“No.”
If she caught him in this one, it would spell disaster.
“I don’t want to leave you right now,” he began.
In a sense that was true. He was
worried about how she would fare after losing Morgan and Joey so brutally –
part of him (the part that wasn’t consumed by desire for
Too bad that’s not enough to
make me stay…
“But Derevko,” here came the lie, “wants me to observe Agent Bristow, to learn her habits and her routines and so forth. She believes it’ll make protecting her much easier if I can anticipate her reactions.”
Please, please, please, let her
buy that…
Allison studied him, unabashedly skeptical. “Why now? I mean, why right this second?”
She dropped her eyes, suddenly shy. “I was thinking we could maybe go away for a week or two. Have time to…recuperate.”
Guilt flooded
He couldn’t believe he was really going to deny her after the tragedy they’d just suffered.
His inner voice immediately scolded
him. What’s a week? A few short hours ago you were daydreaming about running
off and marrying her, and now you can’t postpone this
I can’t possibly be alone with Alli for a week right now, his mind argued. She’d
figure out my heart wasn’t really in it – and then all hell would break loose.
Infidelity was one sin that didn’t
come naturally to
He offered what he hoped passed for a heartfelt smile. “When I get back, though, we could take a vacation. Anywhere you like.”
Judging from the cold fury in her eyes, that wasn’t quite sincere enough.
Drawing back from him, Allison announced stonily, “Morgan got one thing right, baby – I’m not satisfied with second best. So if you think I’m going to settle for Sydney Bristow’s leftovers, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Leave it to Allison to get
straight to the point…
Their arguments were generally
vicious, often leaving Alli in tears and
But they always stopped before they crossed that line, always reined in their anger before they said something that couldn’t be kissed away.
As her words hung between them,
however,
It would be simpler that way. He
could just shrug and say, Get used to it, Alli –
she’s part of my life, always has been and always will be. And I want her
there.
Cowardly, yes, but uncomplicated – a
relationship ended by Allison’s jealousy and his angry words, not by his
obsession with
Or perhaps maintaining his
relationship with Allison was the only way to convince himself he couldn’t be
with
In any case, he let the opportunity to end it then and there slip away.
He cupped Allison’s chin in his hand and held on firmly when she tried to turn away. “Listen to me,” he ordered gruffly, his voice rough with emotion. “I didn’t ask for this…ability. I don’t want these bloody visions. Can’t you understand that I don’t have a choice here? Sydney Bristow is my job now, whether I want her to be or not.”
Unconvinced, Allison retorted caustically, “I don’t see you trying too hard to escape her.”
Anxiety and frustration threatened
to make
“So that’s it?” she challenged. “You’re just done talking about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m
following orders,” Sark tabled acidly. He stuffed a
fistful of ties into the suitcase, abruptly not caring about his immaculate
clothes reaching
“Orders, right.” Allison rolled her
eyes, raised her voice slightly. “Let’s cut the bullshit,
Her words stung because they were true.
Just say it. Say she’s right and
be done with it. Spare both of you the pain of delaying the inevitable.
Angry as he was, though,
Zipping the suitcase up, he snapped, “Funny that you spent a whole month in another man’s bed and I never once questioned your faithfulness to me. Now I’ve been instructed to observe a woman and you accuse me of cheating.”
That hit home, he could tell.
Allison chewed on her lip while he
hauled the suitcase off onto the floor. “I’m tired of the jealousy, Alli,”
With that, he snatched up his jacket and tie and stormed into the adjoining bathroom.
One fine performance, his guilty conscience nagged.
Moments later, her small hands closed over his shoulders.
“Let me help you with your tie,” she said quietly, turning him around. “You never do it right.”
Even with thoughts of
She slipped the tie around his
neck. “Where will you stay in
“I’ve rented a flat there.” He knew she picked up on the huskiness in his voice because she deliberately trailed her fingertips along his collarbone. “And when I get back, we should go away for a while.”
Allison tilted her face up to his, searching his eyes. “We don’t have to,” she began.
It was true – before Morgan’s betrayal, he had been thinking that they should steal away for a few days. That was the same night he’d considered proposing, and maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t such a bad idea.
Maybe a ring would protect me
from how I feel about
Well, that decision could wait.
Right now he knew what he wanted – his longing for
Determined to banish her from his mind, he deepened the kiss almost roughly, crushing Allison’s mouth under his.
She reciprocated the urgency,
tearing off the tie she’d just knotted and ripping open the shirt she’d just
buttoned. Mouths fused, they swiftly undressed one another; when her bikini
fell to the floor,
Take me inside you, make me
forget about her, make me want you again the way I used to…
Allison kissed him so desperately
He wasn’t normally into rough sex, but he needed to feel Allison right now. She seemed to need the same from him.
That didn’t stop his traitorous
heart from musing, It wouldn’t be this way with
His body was on fire from Allison’s
bruising kisses – which had now moved onto his chest – yet his mind remained
with
He remembered her wide eyes staring up into his from the floor, her slender body molded against his in the laundry chute, her tantalizing lips hovering an inch away from his when they said goodbye. More than Allison’s fingers sliding around his hardness, those memories made him moan.
He wanted the lips on his throat to be Sydney’s, the hair tickling his chest to be Sydney’s, the legs parting for him to be Sydney’s…
His conscience screamed that he
should stop, that he couldn’t make love to Alli while
wishing she was
Grasping her thighs,
Their cries mingled as their bodies
joined in a violent, almost punishing union. She wound her arms around his neck
and moaned his name;
Allison climaxed only seconds
before him. As the pleasure overtook him,
A hole in me
only one person can fill – except she can’t.
Lifting her head off of his shoulder, Allison pulled him into a damp, loving kiss. He hoped she would attribute his tentative response to exhaustion.
It took
“Sorry if I was too rough,” he said softly, meaning it.
She shrugged as she slid off the counter and wrapped her arms around his waist. “We were angry.” She kissed away any further apologies, assuring him in a whisper, “It felt good, sweetheart. You always feel good.”
Gazing into her eyes, his senses
filled with the smell and taste of her,
I do love her, his mind
insisted. She’s stood by me through so much, been my rock no matter what, never once turned her back on me. I can’t throw that away
over something that will never be.
Nevertheless, he struggled over his next words. “You aren’t second to me, Alli. You’ll always be my girl, forever. Nothing could change that.”
It was a lie worthy of Irina Derevko, complete with teary eyes and trembling voice.
And Allison believed it – but
Chapter Fourteen:
Surveillance
I don’t even think she knows how she moves me
I can’t explain it but she does something to me
If she ever looked she’d see right through me
And I don’t think that I could keep my cool
I could tell her that I want to get to know her
Take her the places that I’d really like to show her
But I hear she’s got somebody and he loves her
That’s the girl I’ve been telling you about
Ain’t she everything I
said and a whole lot more
“That’s The Girl
I’ve Been Telling You About,” Blessid
Union of Souls
He exchanged the Mercedes for a
motorcycle and replaced the Armani suits with tee-shirts and jeans. Aware that
And possibly the best way for him
to feel more connected to
In
In the end, the mercenary won out.
Nevertheless, having no one to answer
to and no one to look after afforded him a welcome respite from his tightly
controlled world. He stayed up late, cruised
The result was that
Of course, he didn’t forget his mission: to spy on Sydney Bristow.
Careful to keep a low profile,
Dangerous, yes, on many levels. But he was beginning to accept that when it came to women – especially Sydney Bristow – a little peril was often worth the payoff.
Like everyone,
Her days began at
She wore headphones. From sneaking a peek at the CD collection in her Ford Escort, Sark knew she listened mostly to “girl music” like Sarah McLachlan and Jewel; he wondered who the love songs made her think of – and if any reminded her of the Masked Man she’d met in Mexico.
Some mornings he followed her, waiting until she was 100 paces ahead to start jogging himself. In black Adidas sweats, Oakley sunglasses and a California Angels baseball cap, he blended perfectly with the other early morning runners – though while their minds were focused on the workout, his was on Sydney, so close yet oh so far away.
He loved watching her run: the way her high ponytail swished back and forth, the way her narrow hips swung from side to side, the way her skin glistened with sweat. She ran a full two miles everyday, but when she was worried (he could tell by the rhythm of her footfalls) she sometimes ran three.
Most mornings, though,
Tuesdays and Thursdays she had class from 9 to 1. Sark hadn’t gone so far as to enroll at UCLA, but her first two classes – Modern American Literature and British Drama – were so large that he could easily slide down unnoticed in the back, several rows behind Sydney, who always sat near the front.
He noted that her double life
apparently didn’t preclude her from studying: She posed intelligent questions,
offered thought-provoking ideas during discussions, handed in her homework on
time and made top marks (that he knew from her wide smile when papers were
handed back). He admired her dedication, yet it also fueled his suspicion that
her education was more than a cover for
Being in such close proximity to
Her last two classes – Shakespeare’s
Tragedies and 19th Century British Poets – were too small for him to
disappear in.
Once classes were over, the rest of
her day was spent at Credit
Witnessing her enthusiasm for the
job,
Occasionally
On her rare weekends off, she
studied, swam, shopped, watched movies, attended
concerts – all the normal things any 21-year-old girl would do.
He was also surprised by how different the real Sydney Bristow was from the one who lived in his dreams.
The
He half-hoped the disparity would dissolve his fascination with her. Instead, he found himself more and more attracted to the woman right in front of him – a woman who was even more unattainable than his Dream Girl.
After two and a half weeks,
He was consumed by the need for
even the smallest details about
By the third week, that fantasy threatened to blot out reality entirely.
He broke into her email and learned that she despised her American Lit professor for giving her a C+ on a Hemingway essay, that she liked a British med student named Danny Hecht but thought he was too old for her, that she considered her father the poorest excuse for a parent on the planet.
He hacked into her credit card account and discovered that she bought more shoes than any one person could possibly wear, that she was an impulse buyer when it came to books, that she preferred discount department stores to designer boutiques.
He followed her through the grocery store and noted that she ate rice, tofu, chocolate ice cream and kiwi, that she bought no makeup tested on animals, that she drank mostly caffeine-free soda.
Each small fact endeared her to him more, but no matter how much he learned, it wasn’t enough to satisfy him.
He next turned his attention to the
people in
Tracking
It was
But those men were also the two
people connected to Sydney whom
Although he kept his distance,
Arvin Sloane, on the other hand,
was an ever-present force in
Sloane was a snake. His paternal act and patriotic bullshit made Sark nauseous, though something else – something he couldn’t quite put his finger on – also made him strangely curious about Sydney’s diabolical boss; discreetly observing Sloane with his sweet yet hapless wife Emily, Sark often experienced a weird sense of déjà vu, as if he had met the man somewhere before, although he knew that wasn’t possible.
As important as my team was to me, he thought, before shaking off the memories of his fallen comrades.
Like
He wondered what would happen when the tangled web one day unraveled and they all learned the truth about SD-6.
Owing mostly to the strange life
she led,
He was just thankful
Yet while he approved of Francie,
It was obvious to him that the
smarmy journalist wannabe (as
But if he had any true competition
for
Grudgingly,
It was working,
Witnessing
If I could join the battle, his
heart railed, I know I’d win – we’re destined to be together, I truly
believe that…
At first the intense yearning for
But the longer he was away from Alli, and the Manor, and The Man’s organization, the more elusive that world’s hold on him became.
The desire to belong to Sydney’s world was so potent that sometimes Sark worried he was losing his grip on reality completely; other times, he couldn’t bring himself to care, and would spend hours contemplating how he might insinuate himself into Sydney’s life.
For instance, on the evenings she
ventured over to the library to research her latest paper,
Sometimes he imagined chance
encounters: She would drop her backpack as she walked by him, in which case he
would of course help her retrieve the spilled contents. Their fingers would
brush as he handed her back The Collected Works of William Wordsworth; she
would smile dreamily at him (as she had in
Other times he went so far as to scheme purposeful meetings, like asking to borrow a pen or pretending to need directions to the microfiche room. In his mind those scenarios always ended the same: with the exchange of phone numbers, promises to call the next day, and the all-important first kiss…
Despite the allure of those daydreams, however, three things always kept him in his seat.
The first was Irina’s
directive not to interact with
The second was the possibility of
SD-6 Security Section goons lurking nearby who might recognize him as a member
of The Man’s organization. Badly as he wanted
The third was his fear that
In all of
So he was unprepared when she approached him – though, granted, Fate did intervene somewhat.
On a rainy Wednesday evening midway
through his third week of surveillance,
The rhythm of the rain against the
windows and the exhaustion from yet another restless night combined to make
Finally, he laid his head down on the desk – just for a minute, he promised himself – and closed his eyes.
* * * *
When the vision began,
She floated down a marble
staircase into an elegant ballroom filled with swaying dancers, soft music and
muted candlelight.
For
She was a goddess in a pale gold
dress of the sheerest satin. The gown was open to the waist in the back, the
fabric clinging to her in all the right places. She wore a long blonde wig, a
gold silk scarf around her neck, and a gold mask over her eyes and nose; the
mask struck
They were at a masquerade ball.
He realized this was one of his
visions when
“Copy that,” came
She was on an SD-6 mission,
then, not waltzing into one of his dreams for a slow, sensuous dance. Even
greater than his disappointment over that was
He wondered what Arvin Sloane
wanted with this man – but he never got to find out.
The mission was a trap.
The moment
The assassin reached her when
she was a mere two steps from Ishmael.
Horrified, Ishmael jumped back,
leaving her to fall face first onto the floor. Secret Service agents swarmed
the scene, but the shooter hastily pocketed his gun and slipped unseen out the
side exit.
Someone was shouting for a
doctor. Strangers rolled a semi-conscious
The bullets had punctured her
lungs. She was drowning in her own blood.
Sark
helplessly watched the color drain out of Sydney’s face, watched her breaths
slow to shallow gasps, watched her beautiful hazel eyes glaze over in the sleep
of death.
Once again he tried to reach for
her; once again he was abruptly spun away.
In an instant he was standing on
the deck of a ship, grasping the railing while strong hands clasped him from
behind. The scene played out exactly as it had in his first vision.
“Are you my dad?” he heard
himself ask.
“No. But I knew him, and he
loved you very much, Padraic. He would be here with
you if he could.”
“And my mum?
Did you know my mum?”
“Yes, I knew her too. She was
very beautiful.” A gentle hand ruffled his hair. “She had blonde curls, just
like yours. You look very much like her.”
“Are they ever coming back for
me?”
The vision again ended with the
promise: “Someday.”
Chapter Fifteen: Angel
Whispers in the dark
Everyone hears
Something ’bout the dark
It makes us listen to our fears
Paint a face on your desire
Paint a picturesque view of your heart
Take a slice of all the answers
The riddle ends where all your daydreams start
“Whispers in the Dark,” Indecent Obsession
A split second later, the room was plunged into darkness.
I hate the dark, she thought, immediately shuddering as the blackness pressed in on her.
Yes, it was true: Agent Sydney Bristow – who stared down death everyday for the CIA – was scared of the dark.
At least she wasn’t entirely alone; she could hear someone snoring quietly behind her. She found the presence of another person – even a soundly sleeping one – inexplicably comforting.
Ordering herself to get a grip and
grow up,
What would I say, though? “Hey,
excuse me, just thought you should know we’ve had a
blackout. Would you mind to stay awake and talk to me?”
No way.
The hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. Her irrational fear of the dark overwhelmed her; snatching up her backpack, she leapt to her feet, prepared to make a break for the door.
But as the moan grew loader, she realized it was emanating from her sleeping neighbor – and that the person had just fallen to the floor, convulsing.
SD-6 required all field agents to
have basic medical training.
“We need help!” she shouted, on the
off chance they weren’t the only people on the secluded sixth floor at nearly
Not surprisingly, her cries went unanswered.
Meanwhile, his seizure slowly eased up. As the violent convulsions calmed to fierce twitches, the man in her arms whimpered softly – something that could have been a name.
Then he went absolutely still.
Please don’t let him be dead,
The only thing worse than being alone in the dark would be holding a dead body in the dark.
His pulse was strong, his
respirations normal.
He sighed, turned toward her, nuzzled her stomach with his nose.
Damn, that felt good…
Again he murmured something
unintelligible. “What?”
Her voice seemed to revive him. Very slowly, he opened his eyes and looked up at her.
Sapphire blue eyes – my Mystery
Man…
Even as the thought formed, she told herself it couldn’t be. In the weeks since the Dusique op, she had almost convinced herself the whole thing had been a dream – it was the only way she could find to stop obsessing about her unexpected savior, to stop expecting to see him around every corner, to stop feeling as if he were nearby, watching over her.
She hadn’t mentioned him in her SD-6 debrief. She wasn’t sure why; normally she reported every detail of a mission, because that was her job.
I’d be embarrassed to admit I had to be rescued, her mind reasoned.
And I want him for myself – I don’t want to share him, even with the CIA, her heart added.
The young man appeared dazed – he
was practically gawking at her. He said nothing as she gently helped him sit
up; he rested his shoulders against the desk behind him, too weak and shaky to
sit up on his own.
“Maybe you should lie down for a while yet,” she suggested, crouching in front of him.
She tried not to stare, but in the darkness his eyes shone like jewels.
He shook his head as if to clear it
and stretched his arms and legs.
Wish I’d gotten a look at him in
the light…
To fill the rather awkward silence
– why was he staring at her like she’d just stepped off a spaceship? –
She searched for a diplomatic term. “Convulsing,” she finished lamely, and mentally slapped herself.
Why not just say, ‘flopping
around on the floor like a fish out of water’, Syd?
Real smooth!
If he was offended, he hid it well. Calmly, he replied, “I’m fine. I have seizures, it’s nothing.”
He spoke with an Australian accent.
Give the guy a break, her
inner voice commanded. He just had a seizure – everything about him probably
feels muddled right now.
Despite his assurance,
“Are you sure?” she pressed, reflexively taking his wrist and checking his pulse. He flinched at the contact but allowed it. “The elevators are out but I could take the stairs, go ask the front desk to call the paramedics...”
“No, I’m fine, really.” He sounded stronger that time. “What happened?”
Recalling that he had been sleeping
soundly when the power went off,
When she finished checking his pulse, she left her fingers on his wrist, unsure why she felt compelled to touch him.
Just like I did with my Mystery
Man…
And is it my imagination or does
that Australian accent sound distinctly British?
It was the cadence of his words
more than anything that struck her as unusual. But
Though
He seemed eager to be going. On his
first attempt to stand he nearly toppled over. On the
second try,
Electricity ignited between them.
“Sure you’re up to this?” she inquired, as lightly as she could.
The distinct growl behind his reply told her she wasn’t imagining the mutual attraction. “I really need to get going. I didn’t mean to fall asleep here.”
I’m so glad you did,
And too weak to resist me if I
just shoved him down onto that desk and slid his jeans off those incredible hips…
The vividness of that sudden
fantasy made the color rise in
Except my Mystery Man and this
guy – and I don’t really know if either of them are cute, thanks to that damn
mask and this stupid blackout.
He walked cautiously, as if testing
the strength of his legs, still leaning into the arm
She steered him into a chair. “I think you better rest a minute before we go on.”
Nodding meekly, he lay his head back and shut his eyes.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you
around,”
He sounded amused. “Yes, well, it’s rather a large school.”
Right.
Syd, you’re an idiot!
“Oh.”
No, make that a complete
imbecile!
Looking anywhere but at him,
“This place is sort of creepy with all the lights off.”
Her companion’s remark startled
“Sort of,” she agreed stiffly.
“Did you know a student was murdered on this floor?”
She whipped her head toward him, wishing the darkness wasn’t so thick so she could tell if he was lying – she could have picked up on a civilian’s tells in a second.
As it was, she could only see his beautiful blue eyes clearly. And those appeared perfectly serious.
Edging closer to him, she managed to say nonchalantly, “Really?”
“Yes,” he continued blithely. “A girl in the ’60s was attacked while studying up here by herself late one night. Gutted, I believe was the word they used.”
Gutted?
“A janitor discovered her body in the stacks the next morning. Quite a mess, they said. I heard they closed off this entire floor for nearly a month.”
He paused, allowing
So he could still be out there,
waiting for us!
She forced down a wave of panic. It’s a stupid urban legend, she consoled herself.
Of course, students had been murdered on the UCLA campus, but she’d never heard of a girl being gutted on the sixth floor of the library.
Naturally, the tale concluded with a ghost story. “I’ve also heard that this floor is haunted. They say her spirit won’t rest until her death is avenged.”
That should have been corny,
absolutely unbelievable. Instead,
She scooted even closer to him. He casually draped his arm around the back of her chair, making it possible for her to nestle into his side – which she did.
“Who told you that?”
She was aiming for skepticism and instead landed closer to genuine terror.
“A friend of mine. He never comes up here anymore because one night when he was alone he heard someone whispering, ‘Help me, he’s got a knife.’ He said he nearly ran over himself getting down the stairs.”
At the moment, that sounded like a
very good idea to
She scanned the shadows for specters and strained to hear any ghostly murmurings. The floor was totally silent, making her wonder if they were the only two people in the entire building.
So quiet –
like a tomb…
What would it be like to be trapped up here with a madman? Before, when her companion was convulsing, no one had answered her cries for help. How horrifying would it be to watch a knife flash in her killer’s hand and scream and scream and scream for a savior that would never come?
Stop it, her inner voice
ordered sternly. You’re freaking yourself out over a goddamn ghost story!
When footsteps clattered past in
the nearby stairwell,
Oh, the ways she would like to
hurt him…
Whirling around,
She hadn’t noticed she was practically sitting on his lap. Their chairs were separated by a thin wooden armrest; in her terror, she had moved so close to him that it was the only thing keeping her in her seat.
A familiar tingle shot through her stomach. As the desire built between them, her companion’s baby blue eyes turned a deep azure.
Exactly like my Mystery Man’s
when we nearly kissed…
What would he be doing here in
His explanation for why he’d been in Dusique’s lab rang in her ears: “Would you believe that I was here for you?”
She lifted her chin defiantly, bringing their mouths so close she could smell a trace of grape bubblegum on his breath. Jutting her lower lip out in a sultry pout, she scolded softly, “You made that up.”
The husky timbre in his voice melted her in her seat. “Sorry. You just looked so…nervous…about the dark.”
His heart began to pound beneath her palm.
The most
erotic moment of my life on the sixth floor of the UCLA library with a total
stranger.
Now this was something even the vixenish Francie couldn’t top.
He licked his lips.
“That’s what you get for talking to strangers.”
Oh sweet Jesus…He sounds as
turned on as I am…
Shutting her eyes,
Well, another stranger.
This is insane, she realized.
Yet nevertheless his words struck her as odd – almost as if he were dropping a hint that he wasn’t as much of a stranger as she thought.
Opening her eyes, she stared searchingly into his. “You know, that’s weird, you saying that. Because you seem really familiar to me.”
No reaction. He continued to gaze at her mouth like it was a ripe strawberry he wanted to bite into.
Concentrate,
“I think it’s your eyes,” she went on. “I…knew someone who had blue eyes just like yours.”
His gaze flicked up to hers. Instead of guilty, however, he looked coolly amused. “Really?”
Great, Syd,
sound like you’re using a really lame pickup line on him…
Before she could think of a
response, he suddenly drew back.
“I’m feeling better now,” he said slowly, standing. Waving off her offer of help, he teased, “Think you can fend off the ghosties if I go to the loo?”
Loo
– now that’s definitely British.
Or do they use that slang in
“I’ll try. Are you sure you’re okay to walk?”
“Right as rain.”
Watching him walk off,
I so need therapy, she decided, and clamped her lips shut.
Seconds after he disappeared around the corner, the fluorescent bulbs overhead flickered back to life. Warm light spilled across the room, chasing away the menacing shadows and evaporating her fear.
Breathing a whooshing sigh of
relief,
Well, duh, Syd…
He didn’t answer. Worried that he might have collapsed again, she stood and hurried after him.
Her throat tightened with a mixture of fear and excitement. Briefly, she allowed her heightened imagination to take over.
Was I talking to a ghost?
Sweeping the room for any sign of
him, her eyes fell on the door to the back staircase – the one that said “Staff
Only”. As the realization dawned,
He wasn’t a ghost after all, then. He was an angel.
Her angel.
Chapter Sixteen: Choices
’Cause I miss you, body and soul so strong it takes my
breath away
And I breathe you into my heart and pray for the strength
to stand today
’Cause I love you, whether it’s wrong or right
And though I can’t be with you tonight
Know my heart is by your side
I don’t want to run away but I can’t take it, I don’t
understand
If I’m not made for you then why does my heart tell me
that I am
Is there any way that I could stay in your arms
“If You’re Not The One,” Daniel Bedingfield
Over the next sixteen hours,
The emotions came in cycles. As he
roared away from the UCLA library on his motorcycle, he cursed himself for his
foolishness; it seemed that in shedding the “
He hadn’t been planning to slip away when he excused himself. He’d been planning to put some distance between them before he lost his head entirely and kissed her, not to leave without saying goodbye.
After he recovered from his initial
shock at waking up in
His false sense of security had persuaded him to concoct that silly ghost story just to see how she’d react when he should have been ducking out the back door as fast as his shaky legs would carry him.
If I’d waited one minute longer,
she would have seen my face…and then I’d have had hell to pay with her mother.
Of course, he consoled himself, the vision wasn’t his fault; he couldn’t predict when those were going to happen. But on the heels of that thought came the nagging reminder that he never should have been that close to her in the first place – walking around in the open like that, purposefully coming into such close proximity with her, invited catastrophe.
He was feeling so guilty he nearly told Irina about his stupid stunt when he called to report his latest vision.
Nearly.
While Irina
researched Mohammad Ishmael and his ties to the
“New York City Hilton, November 8,
He supposed the Keeper wouldn’t be much use if he couldn’t tell exactly when and where these tragedies were going to occur, yet his newfound psychic abilities unnerved him all the same.
On the flight to
Hazel eyes, chestnut hair,
slender legs, pouty lips, gentle hands…
Recalling the blatant hunger in her
eyes,
And who would have thought Agent
Bristow was scared of the Boogeyman…
He floated on the steamy memories all the way to La Guardia.
In his suite at the Hilton,
however, reality came crashing down again. Exhausted from the redeye flight and
the seizure that accompanied his vision,
Wrapping a towel around his waist, he hurried to answer it. “Yes?”
“You sound tired,” Irina greeted him.
Her voice reawakened his nerves. He
realized that if Irina ever found out how close he’d
come to blowing his cover with
“I know what
“
“Exactly. But, as you can imagine, Sloane wasn’t about to walk away from obtaining a new form of germ warfare without a fight. For the last four weeks he’s had agents tracking down all of Dusique’s prospective buyers.”
“The formula for one, anyway,” Irina confirmed.
“He doesn’t have the means to manufacture the virus himself, so he’s been peddling it to the highest bidder.”
Always looking out for that
almighty dollar.
Knowing the
“Right again.”
The banter made
Irina’s voice hardened noticeably on her next words. “But it seems our Mr. Ishmael is greedy. He sold the formula to K-Directorate yesterday morning, then offered to sell it to Sloane ten hours later.”
Bloody idiot,
Trying to discern how
“Love makes us do strange things.”
Irina’s
words chased all sleepiness from
How could she know – we were
alone in the library, I’m certain of it –
“You see, Ishmael has a grudge
against the
He covered the receiver with his
hand to hide his sigh of relief. She doesn’t know after all… Bloody hell,
I’m going to have gray hair before I’m 20 at this rate…
Irina
went on talking, but
A perfect hit,
Ishmael had done well;
“So what’s with this ball?” he asked, when Irina finished. “I saw lots of dignitaries there, not the sort I’d expect someone like Ishmael to be rubbing elbows with.”
Sounding slightly amused at his naiveté, Irina corrected him, “Ishmael is highly regarded in political circles – his hefty off-the-books campaign contributions see to that. In fact, he’s an honored guest at tonight’s United Nations masquerade ball.”
“Actually, he donated $50 million to a refugee relief fund.”
Politics. And I thought the world of espionage was twisted.
Mentally considering the myriad
ways to thwart
She surprised him by announcing,
“You’re going to the ball as
I’m going to the ball?
With an effort,
Unable to say “
Irina
dismissed his protest. “
He admired her ingenuity.
“I had an associate of mine in
But I can’t let her get to me,
not on a mission. It could cost us both our lives.
Irina,
apparently expecting a response, prompted, “
See? She’s already getting to you, and you haven’t even seen her yet, his inner voice warned.
“Just keep her away from Ishmael and get her out of there as fast as you can.” He heard the note of concern in her voice and imagined her frowning at the receiver. “You should rest for a while. I’m sure things will go smoothly, but you want to be ready, just in case.”
Remembering her conversation with
Maurice,
A short silence ensued, during which he worked the irritation out of his voice before saying sardonically, “You know, I haven’t a thing to wear.”
She chuckled. “Don’t worry,
Irina’s reluctance to say goodbye told him she was holding back questions. He waited tensely for her to decide whether or not to ask them.
In the end, she allowed herself only one, but it was loaded: “When should I expect you back here?”
Moment of truth: Do I ask for
more time to “observe”
He finally settled on a noncommittal, “My month is up, isn’t it?”
He could imagine Irina’s grin at his clever evasion. “Yes, it is,” she tabled,
making it clear that she expected him to return to the Manor once
The double entendre was not lost on him.
After he hung up,
Anyway, even if he could, he didn’t want to forget her. He wanted to know her, to see her, to hear her voice – everything he was forbidden to do. These last four weeks had been bittersweet torture; the idea of being separated from her, however, was sheer agony.
He had never felt this way about
Allison. When they were apart, he thought about her now and again, missed her
when he lay down to sleep, worried that she might need him while he was gone.
But with
Clichéd though it was,
I’m in love – madly, hopelessly,
inescapably in love with Sydney Bristow.
Exhilarating as that was, he also knew that love was clouding his judgment. He was losing his objectivity again, forgetting the expensive lesson Morgan’s betrayal had taught him: In this business, love was a dangerous commodity.
Since arriving in
And the library…Well, the library was an extremely close call, to say the least. He could have yelled out her name during his vision, or the lights could have come back on before he finally came to his senses and took his leave.
He should have kept his distance, never risked her discovering that he was in the city. He was sure she had put two and two together after his abrupt departure; thanks to the blackout she still didn’t know what he looked like, but even knowing her Masked Man had been in L.A. was more information than she needed.
I just can’t resist. When she’s
near, it’s like we’re magnetically drawn to one another. It’s not fair that I
feel so much for her and can’t do anything about it…
Sensing another stress headache
coming on,
He pictured her jogging across campus, the sunlight dancing on her hair’s caramel highlights, sweat molding the tanktop to her slender form, arms pumping at her sides.
He pictured her in class, nose scrunched up as she considered a question, pen cap held between her teeth when she paused in her note-taking, eyes glittering with pleasure when she saw her latest A.
He pictured her leaning against him in the dark library, eyes nervously sweeping the shadowy corners, hand resting lightly on his chest, lips hovering an inch away from his.
After four weeks, he had her memorized.
And that’s all I get to take
with me: dreams and memories. Someone else gets her.
Sighing,
This is how it has to be, and
you know it, his inner voice lectured. You keep going on as you have
been and either one or both of you will get killed.
For a few short minutes in the
library,
The vision had flashed in front of
his eyes, followed by a small voice that warned, You’re not here to love
her. You’re here to save her.
Why those two couldn’t be one in
the same,
The impossibility of the situation frustrated him. Rising, he paced the suite while he wrestled with his conscience.
His heart insisted that he could be more responsible about observing her, that he should at least be able to see her even if she couldn’t see him; his mind argued that he wasn’t capable of restraining himself when it came to Sydney, that his passion would overcome his logic every time until he finally made a fatal error.
Two people I love are already
dead because I couldn’t see past my emotions. How could I ever forgive myself
if I cost
Much as he hated to admit it, Sark knew Irina was right: The longer Sydney was kept in the dark about SD-6, Rambaldi, and her destiny, the less chance there was of Arvin Sloane (or anyone else, for that matter) learning about the Prophecy. Revealing himself to her would be like dropping a stone in a calm pool – the ripples would be numerous and unpredictable, possibly even lethal.
Talking to Irina had also driven home another reason for him to stop playing with fire: Right now he was a trusted, valued member of The Man’s organization, but he would lose that position if he disobeyed her orders. Irina couldn’t kill him, obviously; she could, however, strip him of the wealth and power it had taken him nearly a decade to earn.
While in
He supposed a more honest answer was that he wanted peace and security as much as affluence and prestige. The day he reached the top would be the day he could stop weighing his every word, stop agonizing over his every decision, stop waiting for the hammer to fall from above and smash him.
But he might as well have the affluence and prestige, too, since those tended to make the unpleasant parts of his job more tolerable.
But is any of it more important
than
The immediate answer in his mind –
that nothing could ever be more important than
Can I really do that, though?
Can I really go back to
As he so often did,
I have to stop that, he
ordered himself sternly. I have to stop thinking about him like he was my
brother, like he actually cared about me…because he didn’t.
To quiet his thoughts before he
drove himself insane,
He called down to the front desk
and asked them to bring up his package. Five minutes later, he placed a large
box on the suite’s coffee table; removing the lid, he found an ornate
midnight-blue invitation with the name “
Spreading the clothes out on the
bed,
The tuxedo was black Armani, with a twist: instead of a jacket, it had a stunning silver cape. The shirt was black, to make the silver more striking, he supposed. She had even thought to include a silver cummerbund and cufflinks.
A faux-diamond-studded silver mask completed the costume.
It was, after all, a masquerade ball – he needed to fit in.
That the silver would nicely
complement
Yet another stroke of Fate?
Feeling somewhat giddy again,
Morgan and Joey would laugh
their asses off if they could see me in this get-up…
The reminder of his fallen comrades sobered him immediately.
Staring hard into the mirror,
After tonight, he promised
himself, I’ll stay in the shadows, where I belong. I won’t go back to L.A.
I’ll go home, to the Manor, to Allison, to reality. And
But I still have tonight – and
this time, I’m going to say goodbye.
Glancing at the clock,
I should call Alli, let her know I’m coming home…
He knew that would only be right. Every time they spoke she talked about what she wanted to do when he returned; she was missing him right now, at this very moment, he could feel it – could almost picture her sitting on their bed, flipping aimlessly through a magazine and trying not to stare at the phone as she silently willed it to ring.
But his heart threatened to break
when he considered saying aloud that he wouldn’t be returning to
I’ll see Alli
tomorrow, he decided. Right now I have to concentrate on getting through
tonight alive.
In case she wants a goodbye kiss, the wicked side of his brain piped up.
Before he could silence it, the
little voice added, And what if she wants more than a kiss?
That started a dangerous thought swirling in Sark’s mind: The ball was downstairs in this very hotel – it would be so easy to lure her back up here, to satisfy this ache inside before he did the noble thing and walked away…
He tried to shove the thought
aside, but once it took hold he couldn’t escape it. He mentally scrolled
through the ways he might convince
If I could challenge her…She
can’t resist a challenge, especially not if the prize is worth the risk.
And then he thought, The
formula. I could offer her the formula.
He refused to dwell on the possibility that once he touched her – once he tasted those delicious lips and caressed that beautiful golden skin – he might not be able to hold the truth back from her any longer.
I can do it. It’s all about
control, and I’m a master of that.
And I’ve earned a little bit of
pleasure, haven’t I?
Besides, if he had to leave, he
could at least be damn sure
Click here to return to Evonness FanFiction homepage: https://www.angelfire.com/poetry/fanfiction4/