It's a quickie, but it has a zing to it, I think.

“Nothing But”
Alias
For the Sarkney ficathon
Requested by vaznetti
Requirements: mention of Irina, angst, water
Rating: PG-13


The last time she was in this position, she was fighting to stay alive.

She felt a hand pull her head back. She gasped for air as the water droplets ran down her face. She blinked several times until her eyes focused.

“Had enough?” asked the cool voice.

She licked her lips and glanced up at the calm face. “So, when are you going to toss in the apples, Sark?”

He curled his lip in anger and pushed her head back underwater.

She didn’t mind; it was quiet there. Sydney opened her eyes, her chest constricting with each breath she held in. She wiggled her hands, but it only caused the handcuffs to chafe against her wrists. Her body lurched forward as Sark pushed her head deeper into the pool of water.

God, she was going to pass out. This was it. The end of Sydney Bristow.

She shut her eyes again, counting down the seconds until the lack of oxygen killed her.

One, two, three, four, five, six, sev—

“Son of a bitch!” Her eyes flew open as Sark pulled her out of the water by her hair. She inhaled, her lungs expanded gratefully.

Sark smirked. “Did you really think I would drown you, Sydney?”

She tossed her head back, drops of water dripping off her dark strands of hair. She stared at him silently.

“You haven’t given me the information I need.” He reached for a towel and proceeded to dry her face. She recoiled from his touch. “I’m trying to be a gentleman here.”

Sydney rolled her eyes. “What gentleman chains a woman to a chair and threatens her life?”

Sark tried to wipe her face again. She let him this time. “That would be me.” His mouth turned into another smirk. He finished drying her face and dropped the towel. “Now, are you going to answer my questions?”

“Depends on the questions.”

“Why do you always have to be like this?” Sark asked with a tilt of his head.

“Like what?”

“Foolish.”

Now Sydney tilted her head. “How am I foolish?”

“You’re willing to die. Right now. You’re willing to die.” He stepped back and leaned against the counter in the dark basement. “And for what? Your country? Do you know how incredibly idiotic that sounds?”

“We’re not that different, Sark,” she said.

He kept his head at an angle.

“You’re willing to die for your employer,” Sydney said. “Just how I’m willing to die for mine. What it all comes down to is the cause you’re willing to die for.” She crossed her legs at the ankles. Sark raised his eyebrow at her relaxed movement. “Basically, I will die a hero, and you will die a coward.”

Sark pushed himself from the counter. “Do you truly believe that?”

She looked him right in the eye. “Yes.”

“Your mother was right then,” he said.

“My mother?”

“You have too much pride. That’s called arrogance, Sydney.”

“Look who’s talking,” she mumbled.

“I heard that,” Sark said with a small smile. He walked over to her again, standing behind the chair. “I won’t ask you this again. Are you going to cooperate?”

“If I don’t?”

“Then, you will die a hero.”

“Then, I guess I have no choice,” Sydney said.

“Excellent.” Sark stepped forward to face her. “Where is—“

“Kill me.”

Sark was surprised by her request. He paused before speaking again. “This is what you want?”

She kept her eyes trained on him as if daring him to kill her.

But Sark refused. “Just tell me where the—“

“Sark.” Her voice was unwavering. “I’m not going to answer your questions.”

“Very well then.” He reached behind his back and revealed the handgun. “It’s a pity. I always thought you were a fighter, someone who had a lot to live for.”

“I don’t need your pity,” she said.

“I’m not giving you any.” He raised the gun, aiming the barrel in between her eyes. She did not close them. “Any last words?”

“Yeah,” she smirked, “see you in hell.”

Sark pulled the trigger instantly.

Sydney jumped in her seat. She blinked. Once. Twice. She inhaled. Once. Twice. Exhaled. She turned around to look at the bullet hole in the wall, and then up at Sark. Her face filled with shock.

He lowered his gun with a shaky arm. “You stupid woman. Stupid. Stupid.”

She was too stunned to say anything.

He knelt down next to her. “Never ask me to kill you.”

“Why?” she asked in a raspy whisper.

“Because one day,” he placed a hand gently on her knee, “I might.”

THE END

**

Dude. I was struggling with NOT having Sark kill Sydney. I wanted to so badly. He did too! And I realize that the title has nothing to do with the fic, but *shrug* so what? I'm the writer.