PERFECT WORLD | CHAPTER 1
A/N: This is for all the Sarkney fans who were musing aloud about the possibility of Sydney being Sark's handler or vis versa. I have chosen to make Syd the handler in this story, primarily because--shameless plug here-- in "Deceive," Sark will have a role akin to being her handler and I didn't want to get the two mixed up. Now, I have a ton of work to do and very little time, but I wanted to post this. I promised I would, in fact. So here goes.
Timeline/Spoilers:: Set after Succession. Also, for the sake of the story, Vaughn is already working again at the CIA.
* * *
They had lost Sark. I-need-to-justify-my-manliness-at-every-turn Lindsay had swooped in and freaked out the ransomers. Not only had they lost Sark, but they'd lost their CIA man, too. And she'd just spilled her guts in front of Vaughn's all-too perfect wife. Classic. A day in the life of Sydney Bristow. Welcome to the real world.
She sighed heavily and sat down on the vacated cot. And bounced slightly. Boy, talk about sleeping on a rock. This thing was harder than the mattress she'd had at sleep-away camp. Except then, she had begged her father to go and been so embarrassed about calling home to complain about the mattress that there wasn't anything she could do about it.
Sydney pulled off her jacket and bundled it up neatly in the shape of a pillow. Then she closed her eyes. If anyone came looking for her, the last place they'd never find her.
"Ahem."
With evident irritation, she reluctantly opened her eyes and swung her feet to the ground. "What's a girl got to do to get some sleep arou--" her breath caught in her throat. "--Sark?"
To his credit, he somehow managed to keep the smirk on his face for only eight seconds. Then it dissolved into the tight-lipped stare he'd given her lately. "It would appear, Sydney, that you are in my cell. As much as I'd like to not spend the rest of my life in there, if I don't somehow get you to trade places with me, I fear that the level of my persuasive powers will be the least of my problems."
Not even remotely embarrassed at being caught in a top-security prison cell, she slowly walked over to the door.
"Well this is rather ironic, don't you think?" He said, allowing the smirk to surface once more, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "Somehow I feel we were in nearly the same position less than 48 hours ago."
"Open the door, Sark." Her eyes had grown hard and she was in no mood to play games.
"As you wish."
They changed places and she locked his cell with a satisfying clang. There was something lingering there, under the facade of his nonchalant behavior that was just begging to be let out. She saw it and wanted to pry it out of him, but suddenly felt very tired and just to go home.
"Sydney?" She met his eyes exhaustedly. "What is it, Sark?"
He studied her with such closeness that it began to make her uncomfortable. When he didn't say anything, a familiar light came back into her eyes and she planted her hands on her hips.
"*Well*?"
This time he smiled at her innocently. "Nothing. Though I expect I'll see you sometime in the near future."
"Don't count on it," she snarled, walking away.
Sark took note of the small box he had been briefly set free from and sighed, unaware that its temporary previous tenant had done the same thing. Same box. Same place. Not exactly the same time, but it sure was boring. His eyes caught on the dark jacket forgotten on the cot and he grinned to himself.
Well. Perhaps a few things had changed.
Sydney would be back, that much he knew. If for nothing else, she'd come to reclaim her garment. But until then, he at least had a pillow. And it had been a very long day.
* * *
"Okay, not to sound totally out of line here, but what's going on? Why is Sark back downstairs--unescorted, might I add--and when did we get him back?"
Dixon motioned for her to sit and she did, next to her father. He gave her a reassuring look that was the Jack Bristow equivalent to squeezing her hand comfortingly.
"We traced the car to the outside of the desert. There were CIA agents waiting. They ambushed the car and recaptured Sark."
"What about the other agent?"
Dixon looked at the ground briefly. "He was killed."
She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to rid the feel of the hot desert air on her neck. "So what do we do now?"
Jack cleared his throat. "That's why you're here, Sydney. With your previous experience, and seeing how well things have gone with an arrangement like this, we've decided to give him a little more freedom."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"You've been assigned as Sark's handler."
* * *
She flew out the office and unconsciously headed straight for Vaughn's desk. It wasn't until she saw the perfect blonde woman perched on his chair, smiling up at her husband, that she realized she no longer had the right to go to him and ask him to help fix all her problems.
Jack saw his daughter standing in the middle of the JTF office, looking for all in the world like a lost little girl and his heart went out to her. Catching her on the shoulder, he brought her to the Vaughn's.
Vaughn gave him a respectful smile. "Jack. Sydney."
Lauren hesitantly smiled in return. "Hello. We were just discussing the new arrangement. If you have any questions--"
"--Wait a minute. You *knew* about this? Did everyone find out before me?" Sydney looked at her father in askance. He directed his gaze back to Lauren.
"No," she rose carefully, as if speaking to an animal that was spooked, keeping her eyes on Sydney. "Originally, I was going to be assigned as Mr. Sark's handler. But it was agreed, since I am already assisting with Mr. Sloane, that it would be prudent to assign Sark to someone else, and preferably, someone who had worked with Sark before."
"Lauren suggested you." Vaughn finally spoke up, attracting Sydney's glare, taking the heat off his wife. "And I agreed."
Not even caring how she sounded at the point, Sydney rolled her eyes sharply. "Oh and I suppose that was because I am so experienced with him. May I remind you that the last time I spent with Sark, he nearly got us both killed?"
Vaughn's eyes shuttered and he shook his head lightly. "No, Sydney. The last time you were with Sark. . ."
Her anger flared briefly in her eyes, and whether it was directed at him, or herself, he didn't know. But before he could do anything to placate her, she stormed out of the offices, leaving half a dozen agents staring in her wake.
Weiss sidled up to Lauren and said nothing as Jack walked away in the opposite direction. "What happened now?"
Lauren frowned. "Sydney. . . just found out she's been assigned to Sark."
"Whoa. Talk about the job from hell."
"*Weiss.*" Vaughn shook his head curtly, brushing past him in the direction she'd gone.
Weiss looked at Lauren, who shrugged and fell back into the chair with a heavy sigh. "Looks like she's back."
His brows rose. "And pissed more than ever."
* * *
"Get up."
Sark ambled over to the glass. "Hello, Sydney. I thought you had left for the day."
"You *knew*." She accused, seemingly unaware that she still, was without her jacket. A tiny smile grew in his mind and he was glad he'd hidden it underneath the paper-thin mattress.
He took the opportunity to note the definition in her arms. "How hard do you have to work to get them looking like that? I swear, between you and your mother, I think you've got the world beat when it comes to looking fit."
She crossed her arms over her chest.
Sark burst out laughing and placed a hand on the glass for support. "Oh my-- you thought I was--"
"--When did you find out?" Sydney refused to let go of the initial subject. "And don't ignore my question this time, or try and distract me with crude comments about my."
"Arms?" Sark helpfully supplied. She rolled her eyes and gave him a warning look. "All right. When the CIA brought me back, in the van, I was informed that Dixon had agreed with some man with a girl's name--" at her confused look, he interjected, "--*Lindsay*--to allow me field missions. Apparently, they were impressed with my level of cooperation before and--"
"Okay, stop." She put a hand to her head, trying to process his statement. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
His brow lifted. "What, and miss all this? No. This was entirely worth it. Besides--at least I'm behind glass this time."
"I just can't believe. . ."
"Oh, are you speechless? At being assigned to me? I'm touched, Sydney, I really am."
"Yeah," she muttered, turning her back on him. "In the head."
"I heard that."
She moved her neck to see him staring down at her mock-disapprovingly. "I don't care."
He did. He cared that her back was nearly plastered to the glass and that the periwinkle shell was nearly see-through and he could catch a trace of her bra.
Hollow footsteps sounded in the hallway and they both looked up to see Vaughn striding confidently towards them. Sydney straightened up and Sark, out of view, rolled his eyes.
"Look, Syd, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. With this, I mean."
He had somehow maneuvered into her line of vision, effectively cutting off the connection between handler and--albeit reluctant--agent. Behind him, Sark was making faces. She shifted her eyes momentarily to glare at him and returned her attention to Vaughn.
"I'm fine."
"Syd--" Sark gave a mournfully, angst-filled look at this, sticking out his lower lip pitifully. She bit her lip to keep from smirking and glared at him again. This time, Vaughn turned around.
Sark had his hands in his pockets, standing silently, the picture of innocence.
He put his hands on her shoulders tentatively and lowered his head to look directly in her eyes. "If you're sure--"
At this, Sark rolled his eyes again and shook his head, knowing she was expecting him to make some sort of action. He cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, Agent Vaughn, I believe I was speaking to my handler. We were having a very important conversation and I'd like to get some rest before today turns into tomorrow." He pointedly glanced at the door.
Slightly ruffled, Vaughn looked at Sydney for help, as if saying, "Can you believe this guy?" She crossed her arms again and remained silent. When he didn't move, her eyebrows rose.
"Okay, then. I'll uh--I'll see you later." He headed for the door.
As the bars rose in a mournful tone to lost heroes and hopes, Sydney called after him. He stopped, light in his eyes and a expectant smile on his face.
"Sorry. Agent/handler business. You know how it is."
When it was clear she would elaborate no further on the subject, he cleared his throat awkwardly and ducked under the bars before they could lower again.
Once out of sight, she couldn't stifle a laugh. With a hand over her smiling mouth, she lifted her eyes to Sark and saw that while he wasn't smiling, his eyes once again were lit with good humor, as if they had just shared a private joke.
"I can't believe we just did that. I don't know what came over me." She gave him a questioning look. "Why *did* you just do that, any way?"
"He was so obviously distressing you, and no offense Sydney, but when we are talking about matters that involve my life, I would like to have your completely attention. Getting shot because we didn't factor in an alarm because you were too busy being angry at a married man is not exactly the death I had in mind."
She blinked. "I have been awake *way* too long."
"I'd offer you my cot, but it would involve some very compromising positions since I'm loathe to sleep on the floor. Thought it might actually be better, at this point."
"That is one seriously uncomfortable bed," she agreed, smiling at his comment. "And I think it's a little too soon for us to be that familiar with each other."
"It's nice to know you haven't completely ruled out the possibility," he smirked. "But now I must insist you get some sleep. Agent Vaughn aside, I do need your brain if we're too pull this off successfully and it has been a long day. I'm told our next mission will be quite soon."
"Anything else you want to share?"
He bit his lip, hesitating. "Only that the shade of blue is really quite lovely on you, Sydney. Now get some rest."
She left that night with a tiny smile on her face.
It was the first time she'd smiled in weeks.
* * *
Okay? Well? Obviously, the tension is going to come up sooner, moreso when they disagree on how things should be done, but for now, I just wanted Sark to be able to pull her out of her foul mood.
I'm off to go close a challenge and post this. . . reviews are greatly appreciated!
A/N: This is for all the Sarkney fans who were musing aloud about the possibility of Sydney being Sark's handler or vis versa. I have chosen to make Syd the handler in this story, primarily because--shameless plug here-- in "Deceive," Sark will have a role akin to being her handler and I didn't want to get the two mixed up. Now, I have a ton of work to do and very little time, but I wanted to post this. I promised I would, in fact. So here goes.
Timeline/Spoilers:: Set after Succession. Also, for the sake of the story, Vaughn is already working again at the CIA.
* * *
They had lost Sark. I-need-to-justify-my-manliness-at-every-turn Lindsay had swooped in and freaked out the ransomers. Not only had they lost Sark, but they'd lost their CIA man, too. And she'd just spilled her guts in front of Vaughn's all-too perfect wife. Classic. A day in the life of Sydney Bristow. Welcome to the real world.
She sighed heavily and sat down on the vacated cot. And bounced slightly. Boy, talk about sleeping on a rock. This thing was harder than the mattress she'd had at sleep-away camp. Except then, she had begged her father to go and been so embarrassed about calling home to complain about the mattress that there wasn't anything she could do about it.
Sydney pulled off her jacket and bundled it up neatly in the shape of a pillow. Then she closed her eyes. If anyone came looking for her, the last place they'd never find her.
"Ahem."
With evident irritation, she reluctantly opened her eyes and swung her feet to the ground. "What's a girl got to do to get some sleep arou--" her breath caught in her throat. "--Sark?"
To his credit, he somehow managed to keep the smirk on his face for only eight seconds. Then it dissolved into the tight-lipped stare he'd given her lately. "It would appear, Sydney, that you are in my cell. As much as I'd like to not spend the rest of my life in there, if I don't somehow get you to trade places with me, I fear that the level of my persuasive powers will be the least of my problems."
Not even remotely embarrassed at being caught in a top-security prison cell, she slowly walked over to the door.
"Well this is rather ironic, don't you think?" He said, allowing the smirk to surface once more, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. "Somehow I feel we were in nearly the same position less than 48 hours ago."
"Open the door, Sark." Her eyes had grown hard and she was in no mood to play games.
"As you wish."
They changed places and she locked his cell with a satisfying clang. There was something lingering there, under the facade of his nonchalant behavior that was just begging to be let out. She saw it and wanted to pry it out of him, but suddenly felt very tired and just to go home.
"Sydney?" She met his eyes exhaustedly. "What is it, Sark?"
He studied her with such closeness that it began to make her uncomfortable. When he didn't say anything, a familiar light came back into her eyes and she planted her hands on her hips.
"*Well*?"
This time he smiled at her innocently. "Nothing. Though I expect I'll see you sometime in the near future."
"Don't count on it," she snarled, walking away.
Sark took note of the small box he had been briefly set free from and sighed, unaware that its temporary previous tenant had done the same thing. Same box. Same place. Not exactly the same time, but it sure was boring. His eyes caught on the dark jacket forgotten on the cot and he grinned to himself.
Well. Perhaps a few things had changed.
Sydney would be back, that much he knew. If for nothing else, she'd come to reclaim her garment. But until then, he at least had a pillow. And it had been a very long day.
* * *
"Okay, not to sound totally out of line here, but what's going on? Why is Sark back downstairs--unescorted, might I add--and when did we get him back?"
Dixon motioned for her to sit and she did, next to her father. He gave her a reassuring look that was the Jack Bristow equivalent to squeezing her hand comfortingly.
"We traced the car to the outside of the desert. There were CIA agents waiting. They ambushed the car and recaptured Sark."
"What about the other agent?"
Dixon looked at the ground briefly. "He was killed."
She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to rid the feel of the hot desert air on her neck. "So what do we do now?"
Jack cleared his throat. "That's why you're here, Sydney. With your previous experience, and seeing how well things have gone with an arrangement like this, we've decided to give him a little more freedom."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"You've been assigned as Sark's handler."
* * *
She flew out the office and unconsciously headed straight for Vaughn's desk. It wasn't until she saw the perfect blonde woman perched on his chair, smiling up at her husband, that she realized she no longer had the right to go to him and ask him to help fix all her problems.
Jack saw his daughter standing in the middle of the JTF office, looking for all in the world like a lost little girl and his heart went out to her. Catching her on the shoulder, he brought her to the Vaughn's.
Vaughn gave him a respectful smile. "Jack. Sydney."
Lauren hesitantly smiled in return. "Hello. We were just discussing the new arrangement. If you have any questions--"
"--Wait a minute. You *knew* about this? Did everyone find out before me?" Sydney looked at her father in askance. He directed his gaze back to Lauren.
"No," she rose carefully, as if speaking to an animal that was spooked, keeping her eyes on Sydney. "Originally, I was going to be assigned as Mr. Sark's handler. But it was agreed, since I am already assisting with Mr. Sloane, that it would be prudent to assign Sark to someone else, and preferably, someone who had worked with Sark before."
"Lauren suggested you." Vaughn finally spoke up, attracting Sydney's glare, taking the heat off his wife. "And I agreed."
Not even caring how she sounded at the point, Sydney rolled her eyes sharply. "Oh and I suppose that was because I am so experienced with him. May I remind you that the last time I spent with Sark, he nearly got us both killed?"
Vaughn's eyes shuttered and he shook his head lightly. "No, Sydney. The last time you were with Sark. . ."
Her anger flared briefly in her eyes, and whether it was directed at him, or herself, he didn't know. But before he could do anything to placate her, she stormed out of the offices, leaving half a dozen agents staring in her wake.
Weiss sidled up to Lauren and said nothing as Jack walked away in the opposite direction. "What happened now?"
Lauren frowned. "Sydney. . . just found out she's been assigned to Sark."
"Whoa. Talk about the job from hell."
"*Weiss.*" Vaughn shook his head curtly, brushing past him in the direction she'd gone.
Weiss looked at Lauren, who shrugged and fell back into the chair with a heavy sigh. "Looks like she's back."
His brows rose. "And pissed more than ever."
* * *
"Get up."
Sark ambled over to the glass. "Hello, Sydney. I thought you had left for the day."
"You *knew*." She accused, seemingly unaware that she still, was without her jacket. A tiny smile grew in his mind and he was glad he'd hidden it underneath the paper-thin mattress.
He took the opportunity to note the definition in her arms. "How hard do you have to work to get them looking like that? I swear, between you and your mother, I think you've got the world beat when it comes to looking fit."
She crossed her arms over her chest.
Sark burst out laughing and placed a hand on the glass for support. "Oh my-- you thought I was--"
"--When did you find out?" Sydney refused to let go of the initial subject. "And don't ignore my question this time, or try and distract me with crude comments about my."
"Arms?" Sark helpfully supplied. She rolled her eyes and gave him a warning look. "All right. When the CIA brought me back, in the van, I was informed that Dixon had agreed with some man with a girl's name--" at her confused look, he interjected, "--*Lindsay*--to allow me field missions. Apparently, they were impressed with my level of cooperation before and--"
"Okay, stop." She put a hand to her head, trying to process his statement. "Why didn't you tell me before?"
His brow lifted. "What, and miss all this? No. This was entirely worth it. Besides--at least I'm behind glass this time."
"I just can't believe. . ."
"Oh, are you speechless? At being assigned to me? I'm touched, Sydney, I really am."
"Yeah," she muttered, turning her back on him. "In the head."
"I heard that."
She moved her neck to see him staring down at her mock-disapprovingly. "I don't care."
He did. He cared that her back was nearly plastered to the glass and that the periwinkle shell was nearly see-through and he could catch a trace of her bra.
Hollow footsteps sounded in the hallway and they both looked up to see Vaughn striding confidently towards them. Sydney straightened up and Sark, out of view, rolled his eyes.
"Look, Syd, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. With this, I mean."
He had somehow maneuvered into her line of vision, effectively cutting off the connection between handler and--albeit reluctant--agent. Behind him, Sark was making faces. She shifted her eyes momentarily to glare at him and returned her attention to Vaughn.
"I'm fine."
"Syd--" Sark gave a mournfully, angst-filled look at this, sticking out his lower lip pitifully. She bit her lip to keep from smirking and glared at him again. This time, Vaughn turned around.
Sark had his hands in his pockets, standing silently, the picture of innocence.
He put his hands on her shoulders tentatively and lowered his head to look directly in her eyes. "If you're sure--"
At this, Sark rolled his eyes again and shook his head, knowing she was expecting him to make some sort of action. He cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, Agent Vaughn, I believe I was speaking to my handler. We were having a very important conversation and I'd like to get some rest before today turns into tomorrow." He pointedly glanced at the door.
Slightly ruffled, Vaughn looked at Sydney for help, as if saying, "Can you believe this guy?" She crossed her arms again and remained silent. When he didn't move, her eyebrows rose.
"Okay, then. I'll uh--I'll see you later." He headed for the door.
As the bars rose in a mournful tone to lost heroes and hopes, Sydney called after him. He stopped, light in his eyes and a expectant smile on his face.
"Sorry. Agent/handler business. You know how it is."
When it was clear she would elaborate no further on the subject, he cleared his throat awkwardly and ducked under the bars before they could lower again.
Once out of sight, she couldn't stifle a laugh. With a hand over her smiling mouth, she lifted her eyes to Sark and saw that while he wasn't smiling, his eyes once again were lit with good humor, as if they had just shared a private joke.
"I can't believe we just did that. I don't know what came over me." She gave him a questioning look. "Why *did* you just do that, any way?"
"He was so obviously distressing you, and no offense Sydney, but when we are talking about matters that involve my life, I would like to have your completely attention. Getting shot because we didn't factor in an alarm because you were too busy being angry at a married man is not exactly the death I had in mind."
She blinked. "I have been awake *way* too long."
"I'd offer you my cot, but it would involve some very compromising positions since I'm loathe to sleep on the floor. Thought it might actually be better, at this point."
"That is one seriously uncomfortable bed," she agreed, smiling at his comment. "And I think it's a little too soon for us to be that familiar with each other."
"It's nice to know you haven't completely ruled out the possibility," he smirked. "But now I must insist you get some sleep. Agent Vaughn aside, I do need your brain if we're too pull this off successfully and it has been a long day. I'm told our next mission will be quite soon."
"Anything else you want to share?"
He bit his lip, hesitating. "Only that the shade of blue is really quite lovely on you, Sydney. Now get some rest."
She left that night with a tiny smile on her face.
It was the first time she'd smiled in weeks.
* * *
Okay? Well? Obviously, the tension is going to come up sooner, moreso when they disagree on how things should be done, but for now, I just wanted Sark to be able to pull her out of her foul mood.
I'm off to go close a challenge and post this. . . reviews are greatly appreciated!