by Vanzetti

Photographs sliding across the table and "Hardly a surprise," is what he manages because Allison sits across him in that face he's never learned to read. He'd like to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing but even that would give too much away. Sydney Bristow. Of course. It would have to be, really.

"One more reason," Allison suggests.

Sark lets his eyes dwell on her face. "I didn't need another." Autopilot. He diagnoses shock and his body responds to conceal the weakness. But he can't quite shake the feeling that it isn't his hands reaching for her, it isn't his mouth drowning that bitter laughter in a long hard kiss, and god, if only she'd close her eyes so he could too.

Allison breaks away, touches his cheek so lightly, and he forces himself not to break away. "We'll do it together," she promises. "We'll take care of it."

He nods and kisses her again. His hands can feel the scars under her shirt: that's good, it means he's here and now, not thinking of that other light touch, not thinking of the split second he thought it was another woman on those photographs.



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Alias is owned by JJ Abrams, Bad Robot Production, and ABC. No copyright infringement intended, and no profit made. Original story elements my own.