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vaznetti200 words. Missing scene from some time between 3x06 and 3x07. Sark, Allison and a stack of photographs.
Title: Negatives
Author: Vanzetti
Disclaimer: Bad Robot! Give me something to work with, dammit.
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.
End
Unrelated to my other Sark/Allison pieces, I feel.
Title: Negatives
Author: Vanzetti
Disclaimer: Bad Robot! Give me something to work with, dammit.
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.
End
Unrelated to my other Sark/Allison pieces, I feel.
no subject
Date: 2003-11-11 11:36 am (UTC)the lack of trust and sincerity between them palpable.
Sometimes, obviously enough, I like Sarkison--but it didn't quite suit this piece to allow Sark to have any kind fo ally present.