Crate Training
by Luna, for Elishavah
Jack stood motionless in the abandoned warehouse as he waited. He refrained from checking his watch again. He was the one that was early today, and he was early for a reason. But all the same, he still didn't enjoy waiting.
Finally he heard footsteps echoing against the walls. They were even and calm, indicating that the person was not in that much of a hurry. Jack creased his brow in irritation. To top it all off, as his contact approached, Jack could have sworn that he heard the distinctive sound of whistling.
In the few seconds between first hearing the tune and coming face to face with his associate, Jack felt the song tickle his memory as he tried briefly to recognize it. It seemed like a children's song; it had a light and simple melody to it. But memories from his childhood were far removed from his present day and much to his irritation, he couldn't place the song.
Finally his contact appeared in the dim lighting of the warehouse and stood defiantly in front of him. Mr. Sark stopped whistling, and leaned casually on some crates.
"What were you whistling?" Jack asked in irritation.
Sark shrugged, then started to chant they lyrics in a sing-song way.
"Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye;
Four and twenty blackbirds
Baked in a pie."
Jack frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Sark smirked and shook his head. "Nothing at all. It's just a children's song. I'm just curious what blackbirds you're baking, that's all."
Jack glare at him until Sark finally continued. "After all, this is quite the pie you're making and the king has certainly fallen for it. But tell me, aren't you worried that the shell will come crumbling down around you?"
Jack moved closer to him. "I'm not interested in your metaphors Mr. Sark and I'm not inclined to include you in the big picture. You're working for me now. And though I know Irina had a soft spot in her heart for you, rest assured that I do not. You have no blood ties to me."
Jack watched as Sark's mouth hardened into a thin line. "Believe me, Agent Bristow, I'm not looking for another father figure in my life." Sark spoke, his whole face darkening with anger. "Once down that road was enough. The lessons were learned. Now I assume you didn't call me down here to match wits with me."
"You're right." Jack conceded but his tone remained stern. "I called you down here because apparently you don't seem to understand the chain of command and so it would seem that your lessons have not all been learned. Or maybe they were just forgotten. The point is you betrayed me and Sydney to Simon. We had a deal."
"We still do have a deal." Sark replied his anger barely hiding underneath the surface but he took a deep breath in an attempt to recapture his earlier cool. "I knew that if he confronted you that you would take care of him, and you did. I much appreciate that."
Jack's face didn't soften at Sark's attempt to lighten the mood. "That wasn't part of the arrangement and I don't care much for your improvisation. Just remember that without my help, you would never have gotten out of that cell. The only reason you are out now is to help my daughter recover her memories."
Sark bristled. "Well it's become decidedly more difficult for me now. Allison's back. She's also working with the Covenant. It was difficult getting rid of her so that I could come and meet you."
Jack stepped forward again, his whole demeanor cold. "I don't care about your little problems. My concern is Sydney."
Sark stood up off the crates, faced Jack directly and moved closer so that their faces inches from each other. Sark's face was contorted with anger. "But you never told me that she killed my father!"
They stared at each other for a few minutes until finally; Jack stepped back and smiled grimly. "Don't play games with me, Mr. Sark. You don't really care about him, do you?" he asked in a condescending manner. "You hardly knew him. You said so yourself that one father figure was enough. He abandoned you and your mother. He was cruel to you. Do you really feel any real sadness that he's dead now?"
Sark glared at him.
"But that's not the real issue is it? Perhaps you're angry that she killed him before you got the chance?"
"You know nothing about me."
Jack's face twisted in a perverted smile. "I know enough about you Mr. Sark, to know that you play too many games, with too many people. You learned after Irina in that sense. But you need to realize that I'm not going to play games with you. You are going to help me with this pie, as you called it, or you are never going to find your mother. I'm the only person in charge of this game. You are not."
Sark's quick intake of breath let Jack know that he had hit a nerve.
"You know, Irina found out some information about her, but it was buried so deep in old GRU files that you will never find it without her help. And you won't get her help without mine."
"Irina would not let her own sister--"
"You obviously don't know Irina very well do you. And because you need me, so very much more than I need you, you will play this game by my rules. Do you understand?"
Sark made one final attempt to regain control. "You take great gambles with your daughter's life, Agent Bristow. What if you're wrong about the NSC? What if you can't get her out? Is it really worth it to put some strain on Agent Vaughn's marriage? "
But Jack wasn't finished yet either and he waited until Sark turned back to him before continuing. "I neither asked for, nor require your opinion on the matter, Mr. Sark. From what Irina tells me, your mother is still alive. But God knows where they've stashed her. The GRU had many more secret and heinous methods of operations than the KGB. You know, I don't think your father really understood the ramifications of leaving your mother. They thought she was a traitor to her country, not him. She's probably still locked up in a cell somewhere. Now, do you understand me?"
Sark finally looked away in defeat, their power play over and his brief, earlier victory tasted like ash in his mouth. "I will deliver the video surveillance to Ms. Reed in five days."
Jack nodded and stood back, their business complete. "Good."
Jack watched as Sark turned and left the small warehouse, his shoulders slumped marginally underneath his expensive suit. Finally, alone in the warehouse he let out a small sigh and cursed Irina silently. She had given Sark far too much independence when he was in her employment, and now she left it to him to fix her problems. Jack shook his head. Sark's earlier song made him think of his childhood, so many years ago. When he was a child, his dad had decided to surprise him by bringing home a puppy for him to play with. The puppy had been playful and rambunctious and impossible to control. Well Jack eventually found a way to control it, after a short trip to the library. Crate training was a useful tool to use with a new dog or puppy because it limited the dog's access to the house while it learned all the new rules.
And like Sark, Jack also remembered the lessons of his childhood. This time, he was just retraining a bigger dog, that's all.
end
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