Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

Foul-Weather Friend, Chapter 15

Title: Foul-Weather Friend
Author: waking_epiphany (Jamie)
Rating: HARD R (NOTE THE RATING CHANGE), for language and sexy situations
Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me; they belong to J.J. Abrams and Bad Robot.
Pairings: Sark/Sydney, implied past Sydney/Vaughn, implied past Sark/Lauren, implied past Sark/Alison.
Timeline: Estimating that the end of season 4 ended in the month of May, consider this to start in July of that same summer.
Summary: After suffering series of debilitating headaches and blackouts, Julian Sark takes a doctor-recommended leave from the second oldest profession in the world, espionage, only to be pulled right back into the thick of things at the arrival of a strange, scarlet envelope at his home. It contains intel concerning his longtime mentor, Irina Derevko, and there is only one other person who can help him find her. Sydney Bristow has left her life as a CIA operative to start a new life in anonymity after her sister, Nadia, is left in a coma and her fiancé, Michael Vaughn, is killed by Prophet 5, a mysterious terrorist group. She is trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered existence when a familiar enemy and sometimes associate crashes back into her life. Reluctantly, they must work together to save something invaluably important to the both of them and in the in the process, maybe even save each other.
Author’s Note: Wow, this has been a long time coming. I don't even know what I want to say here in the final chapter of "Foul-Weather Friend". I started this story back in 2005 with a vague concept and a fiery love for all that is Sarkney, not knowing that I'd actually finish this thing, and in 2010 no less! Above all, I need to thank all the amazing, thoughtful, inspiring, and faithful followers of my little story, without whom, this story never would have happened. I'd also like to thank all those Sarkney fanfic writers and vidders out there, whose amazing stories and videos  have inspired and continue to inspire not only me but all Sarkney enthusiasts. They have kept the "Alias" love alive after all these years and for that, I am thankful. I have to say, I am sad at this, the end of "Foul-Weather Friend". Sad but hopeful that, maybe one day, many years from now, I can pick up where I left off: an ending that leaves the idea of a sequel an option.   However, if that never happens, I am content with the (somewhat fluffy) ending I have written. In the end, I can only hope that I have entertained my fellow Sarkney fans and offered a glimpse into an alternate universe in which Sydney Bristow and Julian Sark could have realistically evolved from enemies to lovers. Thank you, thank you, thank you all so much. I am missing Syd and Sark already!


It wasn't so much a manor as it was a castle. It was plain to see that the large, stone monstrosity had once been beautiful. With its medieval architecture and grandiose appearance, the Lazaray Manor was something out of a fairytale.    Set up on the cliffs overlooking the sea, the tower house was surrounded by a large stone wall with an actually turret that might have been servant's quarters at some time. The long walkway was flanked with sea-smooth rocks plucked from the cliff side. It was something little girls dreamed of when they decided they wanted to be princesses. But after years of neglect and vandalism, the whole structure had the air of abandonment and despair. Sydney shivered, but not from the cold.

She wound her way up the long walkway, pulling the collar of her coat closing to her neck. The large archway, nearly 14 feet high and only half as tall as the stone surround, held only one of the ancient wood doors. The other lay a few feet away, ripped off by its hinges and tossed aside like so much garbage. Sydney stepped over the rubble and through the stone wall into the courtyard. 

The courtyard was small and overgrown with weeds. Several ancient, crumbling gravestones dotted the rocky ground, barely seen underneath an accumulation of ivy. Sydney kneeled down and wiped away as best she could to see the tombstones. Some epitaphs were so old you couldn't make out the writing but the newer ones all read "Lazaray". Sydney trailed her fingers lightly over the etched words for only a moment before standing. She looked to the door of the tower house, only to see it ripped off its hinges as well. She crept carefully over the rocky terrain, pulling her gun out as she walked into Sark's childhood home.

The large foyer was ancient, ugly, and empty. Tapestries had been ripped down from the walls and papers strewn about the floor. It had been ransacked ten, twenty years before and had since been forgotten, all alone above the cliffs of Galway. There was no sign that people had actually once lived and breathed here, amongst so much emptiness. 

Sydney started walking through the manor, only to find more bare, plundered rooms. There were frames but the all the paintings had all been cut out. There were grand armoires and hope chests but they lay open, naked, and vulnerable. Candles were scattered here and there but no candelabras to hold them. Plush, expensive furniture lay turned over and ripped open, to reveal hidden fortunes, Sydney would never know. She let her hand caress the cold, medieval stone wall as she walked from room to room, wondering why Sark would want her to see this desolate, joyless place. 

It was mostly open rooms, one empty room flowing seamlessly into another, except for one. Near the back of the castle was a large, ornate door, like one at the opening of a cathedral. Frowning, Sydney pushed open the door. It was a cathedral, only so much worse. There were overturned and crumbling pews, made of the same cold sea stone as the manor and a large wooden pulpit, looming over the room. Behind it, a breathtaking and terrible stained glass window stood intact. It was beautiful and terrifying; scene's of the Romanov's downfall, depictions of Rambaldi prophecies and, most graphic and horrible, the many deaths of Rasputin in alarming detail. 

Sydney held her hand over her mouth, horrorstruck. How could Sark have grown up here? Her heart ached for the boy that Sark once was, growing up in all this darkness. She stood, transfixed, before she slowly started backing out of the room. For all the open bareness, Sydney suddenly felt claustrophobic. She imagined this was how Sark had felt as a child, so small and trapped in this prison. It was if there wasn't enough air amongst the dust and ruin and Sydney began to run.

She sidestepped bookcases and overturned chairs, desperate to get out. She could see the fading light from the doorway, she was almost outside, until she tripped over a piece of rubble. She landed hard on the stone ground, her gun spinning away from her. Her crash echoed through the cold, desolate room and she laid there for a moment, letting the waves of pain from her hands and knees pass. She raised herself to her knees, brushing off her front and hands and reached for her gun, when her eyes came to rest on a picture half hidden under a large, rough-hewn table. Frowning, Sydney crawled over the table and pulled out the square item.

It was a picture. The glass in the frame was long broken and the picture faded but Sydney knew exactly who was in the photo and she shivered. This was Sark's secret? This was what he couldn't bear telling her?

Sark was about 10 or 11 in the photo, his hair the color of corn silk and his smile as twisted as the last time she saw him. His arm wound awkwardly around a young girl, only about 3 or 4 years old, with long wavy blond hair and the same crooked smile as his. Sydney turned the photo over and could still make out the spidery print etched on the back.

"Julian and Devon, ages 11 and 4."

Devon...Devon. Sydney's mind reeled back through the months. What had Sark's dossier said when she was going through all the Project Christmas children?

"Andrian Lazaray left to pursue a relationship with aforementioned Sophie Bardot a year later, in hopes their combined dedication to Rambaldi would produce The Chosen One and later The Passenger. There is no documentation that any such child was conceived."

"Oh, God," Sydney whispered, realization hitting her like a truck. The girl from the college campus, the computer whiz that had found Dr. Carlile's profile...she was Sark's half-sister. Andrian and his mistress hadn't produced The Chosen One, only a daughter that had been kept so hidden over the years that no one had ever guessed she was the half-sibling of Julian Sark. 

What had Sark done that day at the University? There had been a transaction...Sark had complained he had lost a lot of money in it. What if...what if he had given Devon her half of the Romanov fortune that day? Sydney stared at the picture of the children unblinkingly until the image swam under her dry-eyed gaze. She finally closed her eyes and held the picture to her chest. She let herself feel sorry for Sark for one moment, but it was already one moment too much. He didn't want her to know about this part of his life for a reason but, despite what he would have wanted, Sydney took the photograph out of its broken frame and put it in her coat pocket. She would keep this small piece of him with her. For a second, looking at this lost moment in time, she almost felt if he were there with her.


Sydney stood, brushed herself off, and walked out of the castle, welcoming the cold, sea breeze off of the bay. She had meant to turn down the walkway, back to her rental car but she found herself overlooking the cliffs. She could hear the waves crashing against the shoals. The wind off of the bay was cold and if she closed her eyes, Sydney could feel the sea spray on her face. 

And then she knew. This was why Sark wanted her here. Not for the broken down palace that had once served as a prison as well as a home. For this moment of peace, overlooking the green cliffs of his childhood. This would have something he could have shown her of himself. She would've chosen to come, chosen him, and they would have stood above the sea, together. Whether it would have been for the last time or for the rest of time, it wouldn't have mattered, because it would have been just the two of them, standing side by side. 

She could almost hear him here, amongst the wind and crashing of waves. Maybe it was seeing him in the photo, or simply being here where he had spent the first few years of his life, but it was as if she could feel him near, as if he wasn't dead at all. The wind picked up and she could hardly make it out, but with the breeze and birds calling, it sounded almost as if someone had called her name. Sydney sighed, knowing she was only deluding herself, imagining Sark was calling to her. She was only punishing herself, standing here, waiting for a man that wouldn't come.

She closed her eyes and finally turned from the sea. She couldn't start walking away, not yet, so she stood, her eyes closed, her back to the cliffs, just waiting for the moment to walk away.


She wouldn't open her eyes, she wouldn't. The wind whirled around her and she could swear she heard him, calling to her, and she knew if she opened her eyes and he wasn't there, she'd break apart.


She burrowed her face in her hands, waiting for the insanity to pass. She was shivering now, not from the cold but from the feverish sadness threatening to overwhelm her. She missed him so much she was hearing him now, hallucinating him when she needed him the most. She'd just wait. She'd wait for it to pass. She'd wait for the sting of missing him to pass and then she would open her eyes and walk away.

"Sydney, open your eyes."

Tears seeped from behinds her eyelids clenched so tightly shut. She felt cold hands wrap around the balled up fists covering her eyes and gently move them away from her face. Calloused fingertips wiped her tears away from her cheeks but she couldn't, she wouldn't open her eyes. She was imagining him, the touch of his hand, the caress of his voice. If she opened her eyes he wouldn't be there and it would like losing him all over again.


Sydney felt a slight pressure on one eyelid, and then the other, like kisses stolen in the night and only then did her eyes flutter open.

Julian Sark stood in front of her, looking the same as he ever did. 

He smiled. "I knew you would come."

Sydney stood, motionless, for what seemed like ages. "I thought...I thought you were dead."

Sark lifted a bruised hand to her face and laughed. "You would've liked that, wouldn't you. You wouldn't have had to admit you missed me."

"I did miss you," Sydney whispered, not bothering to pretend anymore. Tears streamed down her face and Sark's face broke into the smile reserved only for her. "I missed you so much, you stupid boy."

"I missed you too," he said softly. They stood for a moment in silence, with only the whip of the wind around them making a sound. Suddenly she reached under his arms and held him as tightly as she could, burying her face in his chest, like she was afraid he might disappear if she let go. 

"Oh, Sydney," Sark whispered, enveloping her in his arms. He put one arm protectively around her shoulder and wound one hand through her long, dark hair. They stood for a few moments, not speaking. Simply being in each other's presence...it was enough. It always had been.

Sydney was the one who broke the embrace after a few moments. She stepped back to look at him, not quite believing he was here. And then, out of nowhere, punched him hard in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Sark yelped, clutching at his shoulder. "I was shot there, you silly thing! That really hurt! What was that for?"

"That was for letting me think you were dead for six months, you inconsiderate shit," she was yelling and she was getting more and more angry, but only because Sark couldn't stop laughing. She kept pelting him in the arms and shoulders until he could hardly talk for all the laughing. He held his hands up in a gesture of truce and she finally stopped pummeling him.

"I'm sorry, it's not funny, it's just that...God, Sydney, I missed you so much."

"You have a funny way of showing it," Sydney muttered, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"I couldn't let you know I was alive until everything settled down a bit. With all the brainwashing and your father freeing me from your ex's torture dungeon and what not."

"My father?" Sydney repeated, dumbfounded.

"See, I would have thought the words 'torture dungeon' would've piqued your interest," Sark answered drolly.   "But yes, Sydney, your father freed me, put me up in a pretty nice CIA-run hospital and, incidentally, gave me a new job."

"Wait, what?" Sydney suddenly felt dizzy and decided that sitting down on the cold, moist ground would be the smartest thing to do before she fell over from shock. She looked up at his ludicrously handsome face from her new seat of rocks and dirt. "I don't even know which one of those things I should ask about first."

"It's a long boring story," Sark answered, who looked down at her on the ground and grinned. "Long story short, Agent Vaughn shot me on a beach, kidnapped me, brainwashed me, and almost killed me until your Dad stepped in. I spent a good four months in recovery in a very nice hospital suite going by the name of Günter Baumgaertner. And, when I was all better, Jack and Director Chase stopped by and wanted me in APO as a consultant for an emerging terrorist threat that I somehow have intimate knowledge of. The Noble Sword, have you heard of it?" 

Sydney rolled her eyes up at him and grunted in a most feminine manner. 

"Anyway, your Dad went off on some soapbox about 'ending my treachery' and 'living up to my potential', while advising me to ''stop sniffing around his daughter' and 'stop being such a sociopath'. As if I could do any of those things! He figured the only way to facilitate the new and improved Julian would be too keep an eye on me at APO, hence, the new gig. So, in the end, I'm a good guy now. It's terrible lame and droll but the insurance is really quite good."

"This is all too much. My God, the air quotes. I think I am going to faint," Sydney muttered, her hand going up to her head.

"Not on my watch," Sark said and bent down, somewhat painfully, and picked Sydney up from under her arms so that she was standing on wobbly legs. He held her arms and when he didn't let go, she stared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a sister?" Sydney reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the picture of him and Devon.

"Oh, that little chestnut," Sark muttered, releasing her arms and sweeping one hand through his hair. He reached for the photo but, at the last second, drew his hand away. 

"There isn't much to tell. We only met a handful of times in our youth. After Irina started mentoring me and I got sent off to boarding school, I didn't need to come here anymore or see my father ever again and that's exactly the way I wanted it. That included Devon, I suppose. We aren't like you and Nadia. We can't be a family, it just doesn't work. We're civil and polite to one another, especially now that I've relented on the whole Romanov inheritance thing. Really, she had to deal with our father more than I did, God bless her, so she really does deserve more than half, but what can I say? I'm selfish."

Sydney shook her head. "You could have told me. If anyone would have understood, I would have."

"I know you would have," Sark affirmed and smiled again. In fact, he couldn't stop smiling. He could never remember smiling much, as a child or as an adult but somehow, when he got around this woman, he just couldn't help himself. "There were simply more pressing issues to deal with at the time. I'm sure there are things that you haven't told me."

Sydney sighed and looked to the cliffs. She couldn't hold it back anymore. The words came bursting out of her unbidden, and she sounded mildly hysteric even to herself. "I had a pregnancy scare, I made my ex-fiancé kill himself, and I think I'm going back to APO."

Sark's mouth fell open and he literally did not speak for a full minute before he eloquently replied, "Wow."

Sydney's rejoinder was just was profound. "Yeah."

Sark stepped closer to her but did not touch her. "Are you...alright?"

Sydney kept her eyes to the sea.    "No," she whispered. "I'm not. But I will be." She tore her eyes way from the horizon, afraid of what she would see in Sark's face. He was staring at her like some precious, delicate thing. 

"Wow," he repeated. He blinked hard and shook his head and could not shut his gaping mouth for anything. Without a word, Sark placed his open palm on her abdomen and held it there, as if he could still feel the baby that never was.

Sydney looked into his momentarily gormless face with a mixture of horror and amusement, so taken out of the serious moment at this strange gesture of affection. 

"Wha...what are you doing?"


"Did you hear me? Vaughn's dead. I pretty much murdered him. It was very emotional. I cried. A lot."

"Uh huh," Sark murmured, his hand resting ever so gently on her stomach. "Wow. Just...wow."

Sydney sighed. "Are you done, now?"

Sark broke his gaze from her middle and looked up at her, his clear blue eye alight with awe and wonderment. "Um...yes." He cleared his throat, removed his hand from her stomach and awkwardly stood up. He moved a few feet away, as if trying to distance himself from the situation.

She stared at him for a few moments until she couldn't hold back what she had to say.

"That was weird."

"I know," he replied with visual embarrassment. "I don't know what came over me. Let's forget it ever happened."


"So, Vaughn's dead? That's amazing!"


He sighed and closed his eyes, as if bracing himself. "Alright, that might have been in bad taste. But we can talk about it.   We can talk everything or nothing, whatever you want. We have all the time in the world."

Sydney couldn't stop staring at him, like if she tore her eyes away he might not be there when she looked back. 

"You're wrong," she whispered. "We don't have forever. It could be gone in an instant. When I thought...when I thought you were..."

"I know," Sark interrupted, his face softened. In that moment, he looked so sincere and honest and yet, so inexplicably Sark, Sydney couldn't quite believe her eyes. "You're right. We don't have forever. But we have right now and we can make the most of it. Starting right now, if you'll come with me."

And, for once, it was her going to him. She closed the gap between them, encircled his neck with her arms, stood up on her tippy toes, and kissed him. It was a slow kiss, but sweet, and full of promise. Without a word she let him go and they started to walk away from the cliff face.

"So, how are you going to break it to your work friends that we are dating?" Sark asked casually, leaning in to trap a lock of Sydney's hair between his fingers as they walked. He brought the strand up to his nose and inhaled deeply, before Sydney batted his hand away in exasperation.

"Oh, for the love of...we're not dating, Sark."

"So we'll just be meeting in secret for depraved trysts until we are somehow inexplicably found out and then everyone knows? Great plan."

"Ug, you're the worst," Sydney lamented, letting out a sigh of vexation as she smiled.

"You love it," Sark replied, winking at her.

"Yeah, you're right."

The wind blew cold around them and he offered her his arm. 

Sydney looked down at the proffered arm and, with no hesitation, threaded her arm through his. They walked away from the past and the sea and into their own kind of forever.

*           *           *


Foul-Weather Friend Soundtrack, Chapter Fifteen

1. Civil Twilight, "Letters From The Sky". Listen to when: Sydney roams the Lazaray Manor.

Lyrics: One of these days letters are gonna fall from the sky telling us all to go free
But until that day I'll find a way to let everybody know that you're coming back, you're coming back for me
'Cause even though you left me here I have nothing left to fear
These are only walls that hold me here
Hold me here, hold me here
The only walls to hold me here

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?luxwl116lp291n7

2. Blue October and Imogen Heap, "Congratulations". Listen to when: Sydney and Sark are reunited.

Lyrics: My mind it kind of goes fast
I'll try to slow it down for you
I think I'd love to take a drive
I want to give you something
I've been wanting to give to you for years
My heart

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?koai2acedjadq0g

3. Live featuring Chris Daughtry, "Mystery". Listen to when: you're imagining "Foul-Weather Friend" is a movie and this is the song playing over the closing credits.

Lyrics: My ammunition won't load into my gun
My inhibitions, they fall like the weight from a stone
You lead my heart away like a homeless, dusted fool
Somehow this dime store ring still shines like a diamond to you

Oh, how it deepens
Oh, how it deepens

Your mystery
Keeps on turnin' me on
Your mystery

Thought I knew the rules, thought I held it in my hand
Thought I was bulletproof till the blood pooled up in the sand
Are you a satellite, a shooting star or a dove?
Did we put you way up there or did God send you down from above?

Oh, how it deepens
Oh, how it deepens

Your mystery
Keeps on turnin' me on
Your mystery
Burns me up like the sun
Your mystery

Mine eyes have seen the glory of a love that does transcend
Mine eyes have seen the worst inside of man
And fear is like a fallen bridge broken from an edge
And the proof is in the bloodshot eyes of the one who failed to see

Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?99d9c57ml7y4ld2



( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Oct. 21st, 2010 01:23 am (UTC)
Oh my goodness. So glad I took a peek at my f-list right now. Congrats, you've finally finished (well, in your next post you're all finished hehe) this story! I haven't read it yet because I need to do some catching up but I will read I swear! I'm a bit excited and looking forward to reading the end :) I'll be back!
Nov. 15th, 2010 05:26 am (UTC)
sweet partings
I literally squealed when I saw that you had posted the final chapter. I'm such a 'ho for reunions. I refused to believe that the story would end with Sark's death. I just couldn't believe that you would be that cruel. :)

When I read stories like this, I'm reminded of why I don't write fanfic. I would never be able to create anything even remotely interesting that included Vaughn. Even though he was a villian in this story, you gave him dimension. His ending was fitting without being cliche. At first, I was a little surprised that Sydney seemed to be mourning his death. After giving it a bit of thought though, I can see how appropriate that was ...considering the way she changed over the course of the story. Up until the end, she really hadn't mourned him at all. Her anger seemed to overshadow every other emotion. Even though I enjoyed her hatred of Vaughn (immensely), for Sydney's sake, I'm glad she was able to heal. Now she can commit herself to a relationship with Sark without all the requisite Vaughn baggage. :)

It makes me warm and fuzzy inside to think of Sark and Syd *officially* working together again! I worship Papa Bristow!

It really speaks to your talent that you can write a completely believable version of Sark that simultaneously seems annoyed by the mere idea of children yet can experience a moment of awe when contemplating a pregnant Syd. Both scenes (Sark w/Maddie) & (Sark fondling Syd's stomach) were extremely easy to picture. I really got a kick out of both scenes as well. There is just something really amusing about the thought of Sark interacting with kids. Of course, the thought of Sark as a daddy is also incredibly sexy ...Sark holding his son ...Sydney's dimples ...blond, curly hair. I gotta' stop now ...I'm falling into an abyss of sap.

"So we'll just be meeting in secret for depraved trysts until we are somehow inexplicably found out and then everyone knows? Great plan."

HEE! I'm always grinning like a loon when I read the banter you create. Writing good banter is tough! In my opinion, it's a thousand times easier to find good smut scenes (in fanfic.) vs. good banter.

"So, Vaughn's dead? That's amazing!"

Oh Sark ...how I love thee...let me count the ways...

"He could never remember smiling much, as a child or as an adult but somehow, when he got around this woman, he just couldn't help himself."

Yeah, that pretty much sums up why I love Jennifer Garner. That smile/those dimples could melt the hardest of hearts.

I just have one complaint ...
There really should've been more flesh/nekkid time in that final chapter. The ending would've been even more poignant with some ripped clothing. :D

I'm so bummed that the story is over. You know, there are probably many people who would love to read about their exploits ...working together again in APO. ...just a suggestion. :D

THANKYOUSOMUCH for sticking with this story! You really went the distance in regards to fleshing out the characters and creating a whole new universe for Syd & Sark. I adored every chapter! I really hope you continue writing this pairing in the future. Take pity on fanfic. junkies such as myself! :)

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )


Default pic
Crazy is the Forecast For Me

Latest Month

October 2011

Page Summary

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tiffany Chow