Epilogue
Ana unlocked Sark's ankle from the bedpost, laughter dancing in her eyes. "I don't understand why you didn't call me earlier."
He stretched his leg out experimentally and then nodded his thanks. "Because Sydney said she did."
"Bristow lied. Didn't think she had it in her," she snorted. Ana chose not to point out that Sark had taken the threat on faith, instead gesturing to his bandaged wounds. "Although I see Saint Sydney put on her nurse's hat so her compassion is fully intact. Such a shame, she'd be so good if she could just get rid of that pesky morality."
"She's already better than good," Sark defended the absent woman.
"Do tell," Ana said sweetly. "If she's so good, why didn't she figure out this was a set-up?"
"Mostly a set-up," Sark winced as he continued to stretch. "I did submit to your cruel attentions."
"All part of the deal," Ana dismissed his complaints. "I was still angry about Kessar; working you was very therapeutic. Thank you for provoking Aimatov by the way. That brawl was just what I needed to assume complete control of K-Directorate."
"Be content with your small sphere of influence and I will wish you all the joys of leadership," Sark shuddered. With a singular exception, he preferred to depend on himself. "Which reminds me, I need to have serious talk with one of your men about his ungentlemanly conduct."
When Ana moved to the head of the bed to cut the bra, Sark stopped her. "I'd prefer that in one piece."
"A souvenir? Interesting. How exactly did you come to be in this position, anyway? Sydney didn't seem amenable to the idea of touching you when I pushed her during our girl talk session." Ana confided as she began untying the knots.
Sark's eyes went very dreamy. Then he blinked and refocused. "I've acquired evidence to the contrary. The disk was not exactly hidden. Had Sydney looked, she would have found it."
Ana's grin was wolfish, "I refuse to believe you just handed it to her."
"Why not? It's not as if I care what misfortune falls upon Gould." He shrugged off her insinuation.
"You know I'm not asking about Gould."
"I don't see why you have to ask at all."
"Professional habit." Ana paused in her efforts. "I don't need to help you with this, you know. You're all tied up; we could have a lot of fun."
Ana slid a manicured nail down his chest towards the towel. Sark kicked a leg up to push her off the bed.
She landed gracefully on her feet and chuckled. "You were more fun before."
Sark's look dared Ana to say when 'before' was.
She managed to untie the last knot and handed the bra to Sark once he sat up and stretched.
"Nice towel," she arched an eyebrow at him.
Sark went to the dresser for clothing. "I'm burning it."
"Don't do that," Ana said to him through the bathroom door as he changed. "I know. You should mail it to her."
Sark poked his head out the door. "At the SD-6 office?"
"In care of her father, perhaps?" Ana suggested. "I heard he works for them, too. Oh, that's good. I can have it wrapped for you. Big pink bow."
"With a copy of the film?" Sark left the bathroom, fully dressed to Ana's disappointment.
"Your beloved was critical; I believe her exact word was lame. Apparently you left out a significant element, the soundtrack."
"Hmm, yes. Our relationship does merit a theme song. I shall have to compose one."
Ana shook her head at the absurdity; the industry could be losing two valuable agents soon. Sark tended to get what he wanted. Any jealousy she felt for Sydney was easily pushed aside when she thought of the matter philosophically. With those two out the game, she would be without rival in the field. One step closer to taking down The Man; he would regret not hiring her. She encouraged Sark, "You are such a romantic fool."
Sark pointed his gun at her. "There was a discretionary clause in the contract."
"I remember," she said patiently. "Put your weapon down. Quit evading and give me the details."
"Details? No, I think I'll keep those to myself."
His eyes went dreamy again and Ana pushed down another small surge of envy. She could practically see the wheels turning as he planned their next encounter. Sydney Bristow had no idea how lucky she was; by hook or by crook, Sark would get his woman.
THE END.
Ana unlocked Sark's ankle from the bedpost, laughter dancing in her eyes. "I don't understand why you didn't call me earlier."
He stretched his leg out experimentally and then nodded his thanks. "Because Sydney said she did."
"Bristow lied. Didn't think she had it in her," she snorted. Ana chose not to point out that Sark had taken the threat on faith, instead gesturing to his bandaged wounds. "Although I see Saint Sydney put on her nurse's hat so her compassion is fully intact. Such a shame, she'd be so good if she could just get rid of that pesky morality."
"She's already better than good," Sark defended the absent woman.
"Do tell," Ana said sweetly. "If she's so good, why didn't she figure out this was a set-up?"
"Mostly a set-up," Sark winced as he continued to stretch. "I did submit to your cruel attentions."
"All part of the deal," Ana dismissed his complaints. "I was still angry about Kessar; working you was very therapeutic. Thank you for provoking Aimatov by the way. That brawl was just what I needed to assume complete control of K-Directorate."
"Be content with your small sphere of influence and I will wish you all the joys of leadership," Sark shuddered. With a singular exception, he preferred to depend on himself. "Which reminds me, I need to have serious talk with one of your men about his ungentlemanly conduct."
When Ana moved to the head of the bed to cut the bra, Sark stopped her. "I'd prefer that in one piece."
"A souvenir? Interesting. How exactly did you come to be in this position, anyway? Sydney didn't seem amenable to the idea of touching you when I pushed her during our girl talk session." Ana confided as she began untying the knots.
Sark's eyes went very dreamy. Then he blinked and refocused. "I've acquired evidence to the contrary. The disk was not exactly hidden. Had Sydney looked, she would have found it."
Ana's grin was wolfish, "I refuse to believe you just handed it to her."
"Why not? It's not as if I care what misfortune falls upon Gould." He shrugged off her insinuation.
"You know I'm not asking about Gould."
"I don't see why you have to ask at all."
"Professional habit." Ana paused in her efforts. "I don't need to help you with this, you know. You're all tied up; we could have a lot of fun."
Ana slid a manicured nail down his chest towards the towel. Sark kicked a leg up to push her off the bed.
She landed gracefully on her feet and chuckled. "You were more fun before."
Sark's look dared Ana to say when 'before' was.
She managed to untie the last knot and handed the bra to Sark once he sat up and stretched.
"Nice towel," she arched an eyebrow at him.
Sark went to the dresser for clothing. "I'm burning it."
"Don't do that," Ana said to him through the bathroom door as he changed. "I know. You should mail it to her."
Sark poked his head out the door. "At the SD-6 office?"
"In care of her father, perhaps?" Ana suggested. "I heard he works for them, too. Oh, that's good. I can have it wrapped for you. Big pink bow."
"With a copy of the film?" Sark left the bathroom, fully dressed to Ana's disappointment.
"Your beloved was critical; I believe her exact word was lame. Apparently you left out a significant element, the soundtrack."
"Hmm, yes. Our relationship does merit a theme song. I shall have to compose one."
Ana shook her head at the absurdity; the industry could be losing two valuable agents soon. Sark tended to get what he wanted. Any jealousy she felt for Sydney was easily pushed aside when she thought of the matter philosophically. With those two out the game, she would be without rival in the field. One step closer to taking down The Man; he would regret not hiring her. She encouraged Sark, "You are such a romantic fool."
Sark pointed his gun at her. "There was a discretionary clause in the contract."
"I remember," she said patiently. "Put your weapon down. Quit evading and give me the details."
"Details? No, I think I'll keep those to myself."
His eyes went dreamy again and Ana pushed down another small surge of envy. She could practically see the wheels turning as he planned their next encounter. Sydney Bristow had no idea how lucky she was; by hook or by crook, Sark would get his woman.
THE END.