So, Becs and I are chatting, like we usually do late at night, about tonight's episode of Alias. Somehow she coerces me into writing this little alternate version of the scene where Sark puts the collar around Syd's neck. Jesus.
Title: Price of Her Sacrifice
Rating: PG-13 for language
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never mine. One day Sark will be mine.
Summary: An alternate version of the exchange scene in ep 16-"Taken"
The faint sunlight glints off the device in Sark’s hands. It catches her eye, even though she can’t take her eyes off the scared child with the gun to her head. She can hear Sark’s smooth voice and Dixon’s angry reply, but the words flit by in the wind, lost forever.
Robyn’s scared and trying not to cry out, not to break away from her captor and bury her face in her father’s chest and feel his arms wrapped around her keeping her safe. Sydney wants to pull her own gun and shoot the man who has the weapon aimed at the girl’s neck. No child should ever have to suffer the sight of seeing her father bargain for her life. Neither should she feel the press of cold steel on her skin, nor the soft hands of a killer gently secure his own safety.
She watches Sark move, raise the device and she knows she can’t let him do this to the trembling child. “Put the collar on me!” she shouts, a hint of despair in her commanding tone. She can hear her father behind her, his hand gripping her arm and pulling her back, but he can’t stop her. This is what she does, what she’s meant to do. It’s her price for being the saviour of the world.
Sark goes completely still. His eyes are hidden behind the opaque sunglasses and his face is unreadable as usual. She’s not sure if he heard right, or even cares, but she has to do something so that Robyn doesn’t have that collar put around her neck. Her mind searches for ways to stop him and she finally resorts to a desperate hope that there’s a tiny modicum of Julian left in him.
“She’s thirteen years old,” Sydney pleads, her voice wavering from emotion. Seeing Dixon suffer like this, live out the greatest fear any parent could ever know has been weighing down on her, and she’s ready to break. Sark raises his chin and she just hopes to God that he hasn’t destroyed his last bit of humanity. She’s seen it before in him, tiny glimpses of times when he lets the mask of control slip and there is a spark of something alive in those blue eyes.
It’s like the whole world has frozen, waiting for Sark to make the decision of which daughter should suffer the fear of uncertainty. Finally he speaks. “All right, very well,” and Sydney lets out the breath she’s been holding. She still can’t read his face, but there’s something in the way that he’s walking that sends a shiver down her spine. She tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear and lifts her chin as he approaches her.
He steps up close, closer than he really needs to be, but she knows he’s trying to unnerve her. “If you try and remove this device before disarming it, the injection is instantaneous.” His breath is warm on her face and she can smell mint in it. She looks him straight in the eye and suddenly she wishes that he wasn’t wearing those black sunglasses, because she wants to see his eyes, wants to see if they betray something that his face doesn’t. She wants to look into those sapphire eyes and ask him silently if this is really what he wants to be doing to her, to them. But she can’t and so she just stares at him, waits for him to move.
He slowly lifts his hands, holding the collar delicately in them. He takes another step closer, his thighs brush against hers and there’s a sudden rush of heat over her skin. She has to bite the inside of her cheeks not to gasp in shock. His fingers are cool against her skin, brushing gently over her neck as he adjusts the collar just right, then clasps it together. A few strands of hair tangle with his fingers, the wind whipping them around his hands. She doesn’t break her stare, and somehow she can feel his eyes on her through the lenses of his glasses.
The device is in place, but he doesn’t move back. His hands come around from the back of her neck and hover over her cheeks and jaw line. Suddenly she can’t breath, because even if she can’t see them she can feel the intensity of his eyes on her, searching her face. Before she can move away from his presence he swiftly lowers his head and presses his lips to hers. Her eyes close responsively and she leans into his body. The mint flavour is strong on his mouth and inexplicably she wants to slide her tongue through his lips and see if he tastes that way inside. He’s holding her face so very gently, just enough to send fire coursing through her.
Then as quickly as he began, he lifts his head and steps back from her. She opens her eyes and blinks a few times to reorient herself. She feels Jack move behind her, his arm brushing hers as he brings the gun level, aiming it at Sark’s chest. “You son of a bitch,” he snarls.
Sark just smirks, then nods at his man holding the girl. Finally free, Robyn runs into her father’s embrace as quickly as she can, not giving them a chance to yank her back. Dixon hurries her away from the scene, placing her safely in the car, but Sydney doesn’t see this. All she sees is Sark standing there watching them. “Sark! You’re coming with us!” Jack yells, his fingers dancing over the trigger of his gun.
Sark raises his arms, as if in surrender, but he’s gripping something in his right hand. “I don’t need to remind you that you only have two minutes to disarm the collar, and to protect my own freedom, I’ll be holding this remote detonator. Try anything and I’ll release my finger and she won’t have a chance.” He walks backwards to his car, never taking his eyes off of the Bristows. Before he gets into the driver’s seat, he smirks again. “As always, Sydney, it’s been a pleasure working with you.”
She hears Jack tell her to remain completely still, but she can’t take her eyes off of Sark as he climbs into the car and drives away.