Chirstmas Changes
by Jess, for Fatema
She felt her heartbeat increase its pace as she slid down the hallway, moving gracefully and noiselessly. Her long tresses of curled hair bounced slightly with each measured step she took and rested against her back as she pulled out her key. She let a breath escape from her lips as she quietly shut the door behind her, letting all of what made her Sydney Bristow escape. Finally. She took in a refreshing breath, her nostrils taking in the scent of her surroundings--inhaling everything around her, inhaling the essence of Julia Thorne. She closed her eyes as she pressed her back to the door, reveling in her transformation. Without warning, she found her wrists pushed against the door as a hard body pinned her forcefully to the smooth surface behind her.
"Miss me?" Without waiting for an answer, she felt his lips crush hers in a brutal assault. When he finally broke off to breathe, he looked at her with a slight smile on his face. "Can I take that as a yes?"
She smiled back at him, and her eyes looked down to where their fingers were now intertwined. She could feel vague sense of protest in the back of her mind, but she pushed Sydney back out of her mind by pressing her lips to his again. "I suppose so, Simon," she whispered. "But you can remind me anyway." Her voice was low and enthralling, and when Simon looked at her he smiled faintly. Looking into his eyes now, she detected a hint of uncertainty, of hesitancy, and the Sydney in her struggled to reach the surface again but she pushed it back down. He continued to look at her with the same expression until he finally pulled her forcefully towards him into another deep kiss. She indulged in it without protest, eager to use it to drown away everything else but her and her surroundings. Julia and her surroundings. She pushed him away from the door, and they worked their way to the couch. Again, he pulled away and looked down into her eyes, his body trapping her beneath him. She saw the same look in his eyes, and this time a brief feeling of panic surged within her. Something was wrong...
"Who are you?" Suddenly there was a knife at her throat, and she recognized his look as one of accusation. "Sydney Bristow, CIA agent? Sneaking your way into my bed, into my arms? Is that who you are? Some little slut sent to make me forget who I am, to lose myself? Who are you?" he hissed, pressing the blade into her skin. "Don't even think about moving," he added bitterly when she only looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. "I don't like being betrayed. Being used."
Each word drained her, and a hollow feeling began to consume her. No, you don't understand, she wanted to say. I was the one who forgot, I'm the one who needs to forget now. I need to lose myself. I need you. I'm not... she stopped the overflowing thoughts. ...using you. Except she was. She was using him to forget Sydney. To forget everything that came with Sydney. And she had done all this without him knowing; she had built Julia to be someone she wanted to be. With him she was Julia. She was no longer expected to be the person she was two years ago. She was no longer expected to be Sydney Bristow, loyal CIA agent. But now she was...no one. He had ripped off her mask, pulled down her façade she had built up. "I..."
"I don't care," he growled. Seeing the realization and shock in her eyes had been enough. He was about to slit her throat when he heard a dry chuckle from behind him.
"We can't have that now, can we?" Simon turned around to find himself looking at a smirking face with amused blue eyes. "In fact, I don't think we'll need you at all."
Simon moved to throw his dagger at him, but Sark was too fast for him. His body slumped down, half on the couch and half on Sydney. She looked up at Sark with alternating glares of anger and resentment.
"I'm so sorry to spoil your fun, Julia," he smirked, "but then again, it didn't look like you were having much fun in the first place. I never thought Sydney Bristow would run away from her beloved agency. And spend Christmas with him," he goaded, indicating the body with his gun.
"I don't see you spending Christmas Eve in your cozy home either, Sark. Is the oh-so-charming Mr. Sark left without company on Christmas night?"
"On the contrary, I think I'll have wonderful company this Christmas." He intense blue eyes looked into her defiant ones. "You didn't think I found you here by accident, did you, Julia?" His use of the name sent tingles down her spine. She waited for him to continue, but he only looked at her, and she knew he was waiting for her to ask.
"Why are you here?"
"I would have thought that two years away from the CIA would have made you more perceptive. Surely you didn't underestimate me. It may have taken the CIA a while to figure out the connection, but I would hope that you know me well enough to know I would never overlook such obvious clues," he said cockily while running a hand over his blond head.
"What do you want with me, Sark?"
"I just wanted your company for the holidays."
"Spare me the BS."
"I'm not allowed to invite you to spend Christmas time with me?"
"Invitations don't usually involve breaking in, shooting, and pointing a gun." He smirked at her words and lowered his gun.
"Then I guess this isn't really an invitation. I insist on your company." Suddenly, he raised his gun again, seeing that Sydney had begun to raise hers. "Don't tell me you really want to spend Christmas Eve alone in an apartment with a dead body. Or at your normal place, with so many painful reminders of your old life. Or should I say, Sydney's life?" When she continued to look at him warily, he lowered his gun, exasperated. "Look, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it a long time ago. And as much of a cocky bastard I am, you've probably had chances to kill me too." Brown orbs locked with blue orbs, and she finally lowered her gun and stood up, walking to the door.
"I would never give up on an opportunity to kill you," she whispered as she brushed past him.
"You just did," he returned, opening the door for her.
***
"I didn't think wanted terrorists set up Christmas trees in their houses," remarked Sydney as she took in her surroundings. Clean, elegant, impeccable--the house screamed Sark's name. A flame flickered in the fireplace, illuminating the tree and leather sofa with a soft glow.
"And I didn't know CIA agents looked at wanted terrorists' trees," he retorted as he handed her a wine glass. He thought he saw a trace of hurt and pain flicker across her face, but the dancing firelight provided reasonable doubt. The silent pause told him more than enough, however.
"Is it always red wine?" she asked finally. So she's in denial, he thought analytically. Doesn't want to admit she's here. Doesn't want to admit she's changed. Just wants to run away... to be Julia. Well, alcohol lets your run away too.
"I have other things if you don't appreciate it."
"Maybe later," she answered, sipping the wine and settling down on the sofa to face the fireplace. Sark sat down next to her, his own wine glass in hand. He had no intention of getting drunk tonight. Not with Sydney Bristow sitting in his living room. He looked at her profile, her hair now normal and partially shielding her face from his view. She tucked it behind her ear, and the familiarity of the gesture tugged at him.
"What were your childhood Christmases like?" Sydney asked suddenly, looking at him. He was silent for a moment, pouring himself more wine.
"I remember getting gifts from your mother. But that's all I can really remember. Before her I didn't really have a Christmas. And even with her..." his words died away as he took along drink of his wine. "It was just a new gun. A new suit." He looked at her pointedly, as if to see if she was satisfied with his answer. She smiled softly, and he was reminded of why he had an obsession with watching her.
"I remember one Christmas, when I was five... the night before I shook the presents under the tree for the hundredth time, and I looked at the snow from the windows. I had made snow angels earlier that day, and I had convinced Mom and Dad to do it too. I giggled at the idea of the snow angel family, and Mom and Dad laughed with me. I told them how snow angel families were together forever and always were always happy because they were there when it was time for presents. And Mom jokingly asked me what happened when the snow melted away..." she looked at Sark, her eyes sad. He poured the last of the wine into her glass and got up.
"It might be time for that other stuff we were talking about." When he came back, he made sure they were well stocked for the night to come. She was studying his Christmas tree intently, lips pursed in thought.
"It's symmetric."
"What's symmetric?" She couldn't be that drunk already. One second she was recounting childhood memories, and now something symmetric.
"Your tree. It's perfectly symmetric. The ornaments and tinsel. Everything." She grabbed a bottle from him. "You decorated your tree symmetrically."
"Maybe I wanted it to be aesthetically pleasing." Sark shifted on the sofa uncomfortably. The tree looked fine to him. It was very neat, and nothing looked out of place.
"No one decorates their tree like that." She took another drink from her bottle.
"I do."
Rolling her eyes, she got up from the sofa and went to his tree. Slowly and deliberately, she plucked a red ornament off and replaced it with the gold ornament next to it. Sark nearly choked on his drink. Not only was the color pattern completely disrupted, she hadn't even hung the ornament so it was perpendicular to the ground. "You can't do that. My tree is always decorated that way."
"All two years you've actually been able to spend Christmas with a tree instead of in some prison somewhere? Besides, there's a time for everything to change."
"Change like how I'm entertaining Sydney Bristow on this wonderful night?" He took another drink. So he wouldn't get drunk, he'd just drink enough to get the buzzed feeling, he reasoned to himself.
"Sydney Bristow." She chuckled mirthlessly. "Sydney Bristow would be sitting in her apartment with her friends, but then again, they all happen to be gone. Now they're other people."
"So that makes you Julia?"
"Julia Thorne wouldn't be here either."
"So what are you going to do, make up a new identity to suit this situation?"
"I don't know, I could. Maybe I'll even pick an identity without a first name."
"I happen to have a first name."
"But it's just another identity. Just like Sydney. Or Julia."
"That's all we do. Five-hundred thirty-two," he remarked, looking at his drink thoughtfully. "Five hundred thirty-two."
"Five hundred thirty-two what?"
"Aliases."
"You counted?"
"Unlike you, I got to choose most of mine. No agency assigning them to me."
"As I recall, you were Sloane's pet for quite a while," she scoffed. He raised his eyebrow at her.
"Always with another agenda in mind."
"So what's your agenda now?" He gave a small a laugh at her question.
"That's what our training does to us. Half-drunk and still asking these questions. What are you going to do, take my answers back to add to my file? Tell them you spent your Christmas with the elusive Mr. Sark?"
"I just want to know," she answered, taking another long drink, "why, Sark, if you're so elusive, you're spending Christmas with me."
"It's my house."
"You invited me here."
"I thought you said I was insisting."
"I didn't have to come."
"But you did. Since when did Sydney Bristow listen to what other people insisted on?"
"Maybe I'm not Sydney Bristow." The words came out of her mouth bitterly, and he saw her jaw clench as she leaned over him to grab another drink. Sark grasped her wrist in his hand, and she looked up at him in surprise. His sapphire eyes captured hers, and she tried to glance down.
"No." He pulled her towards him and tilted her chin up to look at him. "Maybe you're not the Sydney Bristow of two years ago. But you're still Sydney Bristow." His gaze was intense, and his hands burned onto her skin. Slowly he saw her eyes change as she considered his words. Her heart beat increased, and she realized for the first time in a long while, she was feeling again. And not just anger, resentment, frustration, sadness. She was feeling everything. She was feeling Sydney and Julia at the same time... she was feeling... herself. She shivered, emotions washing down over her. "There's a time for everything to change," Sark whispered finally, echoing her own words. And with his eyes still locked on hers, he bent down to press his lips to hers. This time, nothing in her back of her mind protested, and Sydney's eyelids closed in surrender. She found herself leaning into his touch, and tasting the alcohol on his mouth. Small tears trickled down her face in a catharsis, and when he pulled away her eyes remained closed.
"Why'd you do that?"
"I was answering your question."
"Your agenda?" His only response was to kiss her again. She made no objections.
"Look," he whispered when they broke apart, pointing at the clock. "It's Christmas." She looked where he indicated and smiled, leaning into his chest.
"Merry Christmas, Sark."
"Merry Christmas, Sydney." She heard the small click of a clasp just as she felt cold metal touching her wrist. A slender silver bracelet with a small charm encircled her wrist, partially reflecting their faces. Bringing it up closer to her, she found that it was engraved with her name. Sydney. She looked at Sark in surprise to find him smirking at her.
"I don't have a present for you."
"You weren't expecting me." This time she kissed him.
"Next year."
End
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