Title: All Messed Up

Disclaimer: I don't own Alias its owned by Disney, J.J Abrams and co. and the song used is All Messed Up by Sum 41. If you really believe a 15 year old girl could really own all of this, then go ahead and sue. But take note…I'd be a lot richer if I did. In fact, sue and all you'll get is about 20 cents AUS. LOL…the vending machine ate the rest of my money. .—

(180 degrees for 1 hour. After buzzer an extra hour.)

Chapter Six .:Truths of a Kind:.

Cause I'm all messed up

Making perfect nonsense

Drowning in my doubts

Cause I'm all messed up

Going nowhere fast but circles in my mind

So blind

Sydney and Sark had successfully completed their mission. The only thing left to do was safely make it back to LA in one piece. Though, that in itself was proving to be a harder task then planned. They had arrived at the International Airport to be denied transport home until the snowstorm had stopped. It was too unsafe to fly. So they were stuck in Russia for an extra day. Sydney had made the necessary calls to SD-6 to inform their superiors of their predicament and was told what they had dreaded. They had to stay in a safe house.

Sydney didn't mind the fact that she had to be with Sark; in fact she was planning to enjoy their time spent together. But she did dread the fact that she was stuck in Russia with the possibility of the enemy tracking them down. Not to mention that it was cold, really cold.

"Well seeing as we're stuck here I propose we try to get along." Sark said, finally breaking the silence. His words bounced around the room before Sydney looked at him to see if he was serious.

"That's fine with me." She smiled. "Soooooooo…"

Neither knew the words to say.

"Well I'm sure we can find something to talk about," Sark paused, thinking through the options in topics. "What about cheese?"

Sydney laughed. It was back to this and this time they had a better understanding. No apology standing. "Cheese is alright. But I'm into giant muffins now." She winked.

Raising an eyebrow, Sark looked over to her before making a signal with his hands. They were placed outstretched in front of his stomach. "Wouldn't you put on a lot of weight?"

"Hey!" She playfully punched him in the arm, but paused when she saw him wince. "You're hurt." He shook his head in denial. "Let me help you." She rolled up his sleeve and saw his blood flow down his arm. It wasn't the newest cut, well it wasn't until she had injured him. "I'm sorry" 'Oh my God! I hurt Sark. He's bleeding because of something I did!' She paled considerably.

"I didn't think you would become sick at the sight of blood." Sark looked at Sydney and knew her thoughts, well thought he knew. He didn't know every little detail. She pulled out some Detol (A/N: Don't own either.) and a clean bandage. In no time he was all fixed up and healthy again. "Thank you" He warmly smiled.

'A rarity in itself' Sydney thought, but really feeling only a little bit better inside. "It's ok. It was my fault you were injured anyway."

It was quiet for some time after. Suddenly Sark pulled out his mobile phone (cell phone for the Yanks) and quickly dialed a number. "Hello?"

"Mr Sark. Your best Armani suit has been dry cleaned. $1000 worth of red and white roses is ready to be delivered to the address you gave me. The dress has been picked up. The hall has been hired out and lastly the MSO (Melbourne Symphony Orchestra) have been hired and their air fares have been paid for." The voice on the other line of the phone said.

"Thank you." He then hung up and looked over to Sydney who was curiously trying to see what was going on.

"Who was that?"

"Somebody."

"And that somebody would be?"

Sark smirked back. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Sydney let out a breath in frustration. She wasn't getting anywhere with him. He was too stubborn.

Later that night, a time which could be considered to be morning, all the glass in the windows smashed. The both of them looked to see the potential attackers, but nobody appeared. A minute passed and still nothing happened. An unsafe feeling was felt in the air.

A huge blast erupted again from the windows, this time one man appeared in black. He had a basic machine gun and immediately aimed for Sark, missing Sydney by inches. And as soon as they had appeared, they were gone.

Sydney ran the few metres which separated them to his side. She shook him, there was no response. He had wounds across his top half of the chest, just missing his heart. She didn't have the necessary materials with her to remove the bullets and she didn't have anything to keep him warm. "Sark!" She called out, trying to get him to come through, even though she knew he would be in a lot less pain if he was unconscious. She took hold of his hand, and tears started to roll down her face. 'Why did they attack us and not leave us dead? Who was that mystery person? Will Sark survive? How could I live if Sark was dead?' These questions kept running through her head and just as she realised that he could die, that even Mr. Sark was susceptible to death, a tear slid down off her chin and into onto his own face. "I love you." Whispered Sydney and she held onto his hand that little bit tighter.

Sark was a little less unconscious then Sydney had thought, his brain kept pulling him back and forth through sleep. He felt the pain, but he also felt the pain of chanced love. And when she whispered those three little words his heart skipped a beat. He didn't have the strength to stay with the conscious for much longer. He couldn't return the words. He was too badly injured.

A/N: Awwww…isn't that cute? I hope you liked the last installment of this story. I will be working on a sequel, though a title has not been decided upon (possibly In My Head). Can you tell what Sark was up to before he was shot? I'm sorry for the Cliffy, but sometimes it's just the right place to leave it .—I know I'm evil…mwhahahahahahha. Ok well now that this is complete I get a biscuit. Feel free to tell me what you think, any ideas you may have, any mistakes (spelling, grammar etc. It's all welcome) or anything you just might want to say. Thank you for reading All Messed Up. It's been an honour.