Started April 20th, 2009

Eya

Title: Eya (Part One through Part Five)

Author: Cadeeo

Ship: Sarkney

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The whole thing belongs to the people who had the awesome mind to create such an awesome show. All the characters you recognise within belong to Bad Robot and the creator of Alias.

Summary: From the ashes of a destroyed church, Sydney rises as Julia, a merciless and destroyed soul. Not only will the people she once belonged to haunt her, but also new and powerful organisations wants to see her burn. SARKNEY.

A/N: Note that I am from Europe and I have no understanding of inches and miles. You are hereby warned. Rated PG-13, except for Part Three, which is R.

Our bodies do not belong to us. We have our minds, our safe haven. When we loose our minds, we loose ourselves.

…---¤A¤---¤L¤---¤I¤---¤A¤---¤S¤---…

PRELUDE

-- The old familiar sting of betrayal --

She felt shivers down her spine, cold and merciless. The familiar feel of betrayal was shooting around her body and clenching her heart. She couldn't breathe and the world swam before her.

,,He lied.''

She choked on her tears and finally let them fall.

PART ONE

-- In fire she fell, in fire she is reborn –

Julia Thorne walked slowly down the aisle; her heals clicking on the hard stone floor of the old church. Virgin Mary stared down at her from her place in the warmed up windows. Julia should have felt scrutinized, but she was not there to be frowned upon. No…

The priest sang loudly in Latin, praising omnificent powers Julia had never believed in. Believing was for people who weren't strong, who couldn't deal with the cruel harshness of the real world. She firmly pitied believers.

She slipped into a seat beside a young woman whose hands were folded in prayer and head was bowed in respect.

,,Jane,'' Julia acknowledged silently.

,,The Black Priests have a job for you, Julia,'' Jane whispered back.

,,I thought you only dealt in fanatics?'' Julia leaned forward, refusing to pray.

,,Oh, we do, don't get us wrong,'' Jane's voice wavered dangerously. ,,Four million euros, we will offer you. We prepare to go up to ten.''

Julia raised her eyebrows in silent surprise, but kept her features blank.

ALIASALIASALIASALIASALIAS

She stared at the flames that had still not died down. The magnificent old church had crumbled hours ago, the screams even longer. Jane stood praying for the murdered souls, a small twisted smile on her lips.

Julia felt the bile in her throat and fought a loosing battle to keep it down and she knew what she had to do. She had known the instant she had pressed the button to kill all those people, and she could afford no witnesses to her horrifying crime.

,,How many know I did it?'' she asked silently over the screaming sirens in the background as they observed the church from a rooftop not far away.

,,Only me, luv,'' Jane said in a Scottish accent, smirking. ,,But I plan to tell to my employers at the first given opportunity.''

Now it was Julia's turn to smirk. She reached inside her purse slowly to not raise suspicion and mercilessly shot Jane between the eyes and the other woman fell to ground, hands spread out the sides, a female Jesus dying by the feet of a new force.

Kendell opened his eyes by the sound of a door being opened. He slowly reached behind the table by his bed and brought forth a gun. He slowly rose, making as little noise as possible and crept into the living room to see a female figure going through his liquor cabinet. In the darkness of the night she looked vaguely familiar, but it was impossible to tell.

He pointed the gun at her and spoke, ,,Hands in the air!''

She didn't tense like he expected, but merely turned around and faced him. The light from a nearby street lamp illuminated her features and he frowned, taking in the woman as if for the first time.

,,Hello, Kendell,'' Sydney Bristow said coolly.

,,You're dead,'' he stated and mentally scolded himself for his utterly useless self-control.

She laughed a cold and humourless laugh, sending shrills down his spine. ,,I wish,'' she told him. ,,I was taken by the Covenant.''

,,The Covenant?'' he questioned, not having heard the name before in the many files of the CIA.

,,They are very shy, like The Man's organisation while the Alliance stood strong,'' she explained. ,,They took me and tortured me, until they thought they broke me down one memory of the time. I have been working for them ever since as their most prized assassin.''

With pursed lips he mentally gathered and stored her information away for later use. ,,Have you come here to kill me?''

,,No,'' she replied. ,,I came here to propose a deal.''

ALIASALIASALIASALIASALIAS

Sark stared at the glass of his prison cell, seeing but not actually seeing. How long had he been here? He had lost track between the torture and the fainting that came after. Jack Bristow was gone from his beloved CIA; Michael Vaughn was hanging on by a loose threat; Marshall, the loveable and funny technician, had lost his usual spark; and Marcus Dixon was cold and the one in charge of his interrogations. He had seen them all fall apart by the news of Sydney's death; he had even fought off a strange stab in his heart himself, not something he wished to analyse to closely.

She had been the bright spot, the one always able to make everyone happy and make her loyal friends and family going that much harder. When the sun had gone, a dark menacing cloud had been left behind, its watery clouds hanging low over the landscape.

He stretched his toes by millimetres, otherwise staying perfectly and utterly still. He had perfected sniping easily years ago and had no problem being in the same position for hours on end. He knew 'they' watched, his onlookers. Whether it was Sydney's people or the ordinary desk people that was watching, he didn't care. They would analyse whatever he did anyway. Anything he did would be analysed down to the tiniest detail and then gone over again to make sure he had actually just eaten that thing that could have been fruit before it was dissected for him to finally eat.

He became aware of the bars to his part of the cells, being opened, but he pointedly ignored whoever it was. He closed his eyes, letting his hearing take over. It was a male, definitely, someone with a brisk walk, someone young, and not to forget the slight limp. Ah, yeas.

,,Mr Vaughn,'' he exclaimed.

The steps halted for a second, but resumed until Vaughn stood facing him. Sark opened his eyes and stared blankly at him. The man was glaring at him, trying to look scary and something he was not, but he was failing horribly. He was an ant, one of the masses, beside Irina Derevko, someone with no worth and impossible to get rid off.

,,You're being transferred to another location,'' Vaughn told him coolly. ,,They'll be getting you in five days.''

,,I'm touched. Will you miss me?'' Sark teased, not able to hold himself back.

Vaughn looked surprised at him, probably finding his mask of indifference slightly unnerving. It usually did.

,,He is absolutely adorable, miss Derevko!''

,,Watch out. He bites.''

He grinned inwardly. The memory of the shocked woman as a fifteen-year-old boy had picked up a gun and shot her fast tree times between the eyes, rushed past his eyes.

ALIASALIASALIASALIASALIAS

Kendell walked alongside the vice-president of the United States into the Oval Office, not quite believing he would set foot in there as agent outside Secret Service, the agency he had started out in many years ago. The president, himself, sat behind his famed wooden desk and looked down at his papers with a slight frown.

The vice-president cleared his voice and the president looked up.

,,Ah, yes, Assistant Director Kendell, am I right?'' the president asked, covering the papers with blank paper.

,,Yes, Mr President,'' Kendell replied, not quite believing the other couldn't hear the loud thumping of his racing heart. He had been Secret Service, but he had never worked directly for the president.

The vice-president backed out, leaving them alone.

,,This Sydney Bristow,'' the president began. ,,She seems… dead.''

,,It has been seven months since her burial, sir, but I saw her walk into my house not two weeks ago, alive and breathing. I can assure you without a hint of doubt that Sydney Bristow is not dead,'' Kendell explained.

,,Tell me then, why should I be interested in the whereabouts of a former double agent? I'm sorry, but double-agents should not be trusted for obvious reasons.''

,,These are her words, Mr President. She was taken from her burning house and brought to a facility where she was continually tortured, until she gave the impression she had been brainwashed into a person by the name of Julia Thorne. She has placed herself in a position in a new and very stable terrorist organisation who is calling themselves the Covenant.''

,,She was tortured for seven months?'' the president asked, disbelieving.

,,She was subjected to the Project Christmas training, a program designed to discover and prepare agents of the United States, at a very early age. She has literally no breaking point,'' Kendell replied.

The president was quiet for a moment. ,,Tell me everything. Tell me the whole story.''

ALIASALIASALIASALIASALIAS

She looked up, seeing Virgin Mary's beautiful and famed face. It was scrunched up in hate. Fire engulfed the windows, casting a dangerous, hellish and warning glow around the church, making the faces of the saints seem as hateful as Virgin Mary's.

She looked down at her hand, feeling it warming up strangely when it suddenly burst out into sickly orange flames, but her hand didn't burn. She could see her skin perfect where it should have become blistered and dead looking. Wondering, she held up her other hand and the same happened. Her whole body was burning and it hurt and the people were laughing at her.

,,Vengeance!'' one shouted.

,,Revenge!'' a little girl with her best church clothes on and a red bow in her hair, screamed.

,,Justice,'' the black priest said, smirking and bent down to pick up a silver cross, a cross she had flung across the church, casting away the protection of God..

,,Sydney believed,'' someone with a very familiar voice said from behind her.

She turned around quickly, seeing a man, evil eyed and angelic looking, walk towards her in no hurry.

,,Sark!''

,,Sark!''

ALIASALIASALIASALIASALIAS

She woke with a start, gasping loudly. She was clutching the sheets tightly and sweat made her blonde hair stick to her face like glue. Her heartbeat was escalading and she almost expected it to shatter her ribcage and fly into the ceiling and then fly down again.

When her body had slowed down somewhat for her to think rationally, she looked to her left and saw Kendell's watch. 02.23. She had only been sleeping for thirty minutes and she groaned, lying her head back down on the pillow.

She slowly raised herself from his bed, having taken over his apartment while he had gone to the capital, negotiating her pardon agreement in total silence, in utterly confidential circumstances.

She looked at herself in the small mirror over the sink of the bathroom and shuddered at what she saw. Her eyes were sunken and black from little to no sleep. Her natural brown hair colour was showing at the roots of her honey blonde hair that looked dead and boring without having been tended to. She was falling apart slowly, her horrifying actions in the church hitting her much deeper than it should for people of her calibre and training. She could not help but be mesmerized by her own reflection; the change from what she had been to the one she had become was painstakingly easy to see. She held tightly onto the white-tiled sink, making sure her legs wouldn't give up under her and staggered towards the guestroom, her bedroom, sweet oblivion coming closer as she fell to the floor in a crumbled heap.

She vaguely heard the front door open and Kendell rushing to her side in the instant he saw her. She felt better the minute she had been dragged to the comforting bed and she clung to him, craving human contact with every fibre of her being.

ALIASALIASALIASALIASALIAS

,,There is a woman,'' the president told his most trusted and loyal friend, Matthew Wayne, a highly respected intelligence agent. ,,She now goes by the alias Phoenix. She was once one of the most loyal and morally right people in the world of intelligence. Then she got kidnapped by the fledging organisation called the Covenant because of an insane old prophecy written by a crazy prophet-''

,,Rambaldi.''

,,Yes. She was dead to her family and friends, when she in reality endured seven months of gruesome torture. She died in the flames of her apartment and rose from the flames of Elizabeth's Church in Scotland. You may know her as the second Catholic Church Killer, isn't that what The Times call the person responsible?''

,,She was an American agent?'' Wayne asked shocked.

The president nodded. ,,Fourteen hours ago, I pardoned her. She is sitting on a valuable position in the Covenant with ties to the Black Priests and the much more covert organisation named Prophet 5, andshe has agreed to do our command to some extent. She is a sleeper agent in definition, but she is ours. This is a golden opportunity, Matt.''

,,It seems wrong, sir. Morally, that is.''

,,I will be monitoring this operation myself and only I will know to what extent her missions will be carried out. Her handler is a man under the alias, Fixer. Since it will be too risky for him to contact me directly, you will be our liaison, Enquire. Give him permission to use the government owned space under Mercy Hospital by Kingsley Street in Philadelphia. This is completely confidential and Fixer will be on his own with this branch.''

,,I understand, sir.''

ALIASALIASALIASALIASALIAS

Kendell stared distastefully on the extra spoon full of coffee, before adding it to plain blue mug. She liked it best black. It would keep her awake. She had allowed herself to slip in the safe environments of his apartment, meaning she didn't need to keep her stony appearance up. She didn't eat much and after a week, her carefully toned body was already weakening.

He found her sprawled on the couch, staring distantly at Oprah crying for all the lives lost in the burned down church in Scotland and he caught the irony of the situation. The one woman he didn't think would ever fall to the other side was personally responsible for the mass murderers.

He sat down in a chair by the couch. ,,You realise you can't hide here forever,'' he said silently, not meaning to distract her too much.

She nodded without a sound.

,,I honestly wish I could do something to make going back easier,'' he said before he could stop himself.

,,Sark,'' she said hoarsely. ,,Could you give me Sark?''

ALIASALIASALIASALIASALIAS

Dixon shifted uneasily in his chair and looked down on his useless notes. He had honestly thought they were moving forward with the Karkoroff case, but that had not been the case at all.

,,I have been reassigned,'' Kendell told the small gathered crowd. ,,I'm leaving things in the hands of the new Assistant Director Paul Combs, a perfectly capable man. I will also be taking Sark with me to a maximum security prison on the East Coast.''

,,But, he's our best lead to Sydney's murderer!'' Vaughn objected, eyes determined and filled with grief. ,,You can't do that!''

,,Orders from Langley, agent Vaughn,'' Kendell said simply, hands on his hips.

Dixon watched for any indication, any little tremble, anything, on Jack, but the man was a blank, a wall of indifference.

Things were certainly not the same without Sydney.

ALIASALIASALIASALIASALIAS

He had been drugged, Sark could tell. They dragged him from the cell he had come to hate and into a black van with more guards than the president needed. He had seen Dixon glare daggers at him, Vaughn watching him like a thing he needed as if his life depended but was slipping through his fingers, and Jack was M.I.A., absolutely nowhere to be seen.

They drove for hours until they made it to an airfield surrounded by the desert all around. He was forced out and he blinked, momentarily blinded by the bright desert sun. On the airfield stood a lone white jet and another black car, but nothing else. He stared in confusion, noticing all but the five guards that had been present at the JTFC in the van were gone.

,,In the jet, Mr Sark,'' someone said behind him, pushing him forward roughly so he momentarily lost his footing, but still the training that had been years in the making, made him quickly find his stand again.

He nodded and made his way over the warm concrete that was burning his bare feet, probably blistering them.

,,Fancy seeing you here,'' he said and smiled at the person waiting for him.