“Tomorrow”

Sarkney

Rating: PG

Alias

Back-up fic for the Sarkney ficathon

Requested by and_only, who wanted a future fic with a cruise ship, the line: “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you” and a secret box, and no Vaughn/Lauren/Will

The last thing Sydney needed was to find a suspicious box outside her room.

Not today. Not on my first day out.

Less than forty-eight hours ago she had stepped out of the CIA office for the last time. When she walked out those doors, she immediately felt the heavy burden of undercover assignments, paperwork, Rambaldi, Sloane—all of it—be lifted off her shoulders.

She told her father she had booked a much-needed vacation. A cruise around the Caribbean. She flew to Miami and boarded the large cruise ship that evening. She walked around deck feeling refreshed and somewhat odd. So, this is what it feels like to be normal. To be Sydney Bristow. To be herself. She treated herself to a lavish dinner and a glass of wine before retreating to her room. She soaked in the bathtub for hours until her skin resembled a raisin in the sun. She wrapped herself in her satin robe, enjoying the feel of the cool material against her warm skin. She picked up her book and before she knew it, she was asleep.

In the morning, she opened the door to head up to the deck for breakfast. Her foot bumped into something hard. She looked down at the small cardboard box with narrowed eyes. She turned her head to the left, then to the right. All she saw was an empty hallway. She bent down to pick up the box. Gave it a gentle shake. Nothing seemed to be ticking inside.

She returned inside her room holding the box. Her curiosity was taking over. Fast. She had to get her head in check. Should she call her father? Call security? No, she was a big girl. She could handle one box. She lifted the tabs on the sides and the flap opened. She carefully pulled back the cover and her eyes widened at the sight.

“Oh, my god.”

**

Sydney couldn’t take her eyes off the yellow faded pages sitting on her bed. She blinked and they were still there. It wasn’t a dream and she definitely wasn’t imagining this. She picked up the contents of the box, slowly leafing through the papers. Through Rambaldi’s manuscripts.

Every single page was there. In her possession. Even the infamous page 47. Her page.

But who had placed the box outside her door? No one knew she was here except for her father. It couldn’t have been him. He would have come himself, not put the box outside her door like some kind of coward. She ran different names, faces, anyone who associated themselves with Rambaldi through her mind. And she came up with nothing.

By the time night fell, she was still clueless on who could have sent her the package. She finally left her room and boarded the deck, still holding onto the box containing Rambaldi’s works. She found a secluded spot near the back of the boat and stared into the white moon in the black sky.

The ocean breeze ruffled her hair. She tucked a loose strand behind her ear, biting down on her bottom lip, contemplating the contents of the box and its mysterious sender.

Voices suddenly drifted in her direction. She turned to see a young man and woman walk past her, holding hands. She watched them disappear as they walked further away. A sharp pang vibrated inside Sydney. It was hollow, and at the same time hard. She had lost so much over the years. Love. Family. Friends. Life. She was determined to find all of that again.

She looked down at the box. This wasn’t going to help her find anything.

She heard footsteps again behind her, but she didn’t turn around this time. Didn’t want to see the girl in love. The mother with her daughter. The best friends.

Her back stiffened as the footsteps came up right to her. Still, she didn’t turn.

An arm snaked around her body. A hand closed upon her own over the box. She glanced at it. It looked awfully similar to her hand. Coarse and rough. Working hands. She shut her eyes, realizing who was standing behind her.

She opened her eyes, hearing Sark take a step to his right. He was in her view now. Standing right beside her. His hand and arm moved with him. It lingered over her back before coming to his side. He didn’t say a word.

She didn’t either.

The breeze grew stronger and she blinked as the wind blew in her face. She waited for Sark to do something, say something, and when he didn’t, she said, “Why?”

He turned to look at her. He leaned forward on the railing, folding his hands in front of him. He still wouldn’t talk.

“What do you want?” Sydney asked.

“I don’t have an agenda, Sydney,” he simply said.

Don’t call me that.

But she knew he could. That was who she was now.

“Then, why?” she asked again.

He smirked. “Consider it your going away present.”

“So, you heard.”

He nodded. “I heard.”

She paused before speaking again. “And?”

“And I wish you nothing but the best of luck.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.

She gestured to the box. “How did you get this?”

His blue eyes hardened despite the twisted smile on his face. “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

“Not if I kill you first,” she said, her own hazel eyes darkening.

His smile grew wider. He moved his gaze toward the horizon. “Do with it what you will.” He glanced at the box. “That’s why I brought it to you.” His eyes slid away from her and the box and back to the sky. “Not everyone gets a chance to start over.”

It was true. Sydney reluctantly found herself understanding Sark. And possibly he understood her too.

She opened the box and the corners of the pages fluttered with the wind. In a split second, she flipped it over and dozens of sheets of paper fell overboard. Their ink would smear. Their words, their numbers, picture, drawings—they would all vanish.

She looked at Sark. “Is that what you wanted?”

His eyes were still on the horizon. “No, that’s what you wanted.”

**

Morning seemed like it was never going to come.

Sydney and Sark walked side by side below deck, making their way to their rooms. They stopped outside Sydney’s door.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning when the boat docks in Nassau,” Sark said.

She opened her door and looked over at him.

“Good luck, Sydney.” And he meant it this time. He turned to go.

“Sark, wait.” She was surprised to hear those two words come out of her mouth.

So was he. He turned around with confusion in his eyes.

She opened her door wider and took a step in. A moment later, Sark followed.

She flipped on the lights and tossed her coat on the chair. She turned around to Sark. He was waiting for her. She took a few small steps towards him, raising her hands to his face. He intently watched, still waiting for her. She tilted her head until her mouth hovered over his. She kissed him with longing, with desire, with anticipation.

When they pulled away, she felt her cheeks grow warm. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

He kissed her again. More urgently. More passionately.

When they pulled away, Sydney let out a small moan. A low whisper with a hint of his name.

He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

**

Sydney woke up alone. She turned to where Sark was last night. Next to her in bed. She extended her arm and touched the pillow that was still indented with his soft head. She sat up in bed, clutching the sheets around her naked body. She was still light-headed from the lovemaking.

Outside her window, she saw that the sun was high in the sky. The boat had stopped moving.

“I’ll be leaving in the morning when the boat docks in Nassau.”

Sark was gone.

But he had left something behind for her.

She picked up the note on the desk.

You don’t have to say it. I know.

But she said it anyway.

“Thank you.”

Thank you for my second chance.

THE END