Perfect World Chapter 7
Note: Well. I suppose I owe you all some explanation for that ending. I really don't know what's gotten into me lately with these cliffhangers. They just sort of hang on to me and refuse to let go. We're slowly winding down here, and we're almost done. Give it maybe three more chapters. Then comes the sequel. :D
Special thanks to Katana for the beta. You're the bestest!
To say she was shocked would have been putting it mildly.
"What?"
He spoke slowly, as if reciting the details from memory. "You carried Jade for a little over nine months. After that, there was no record of her. There's barely anything about her in the file that Sark took the Covenant because they didn't understand just whom Jade was in relation to you. She's mentioned a total of four times, but nothing beyond that."
She snatched the papers out of its hands, read it over again and gasped. "No. This can't be happening. You're telling me I carried someone inside me for nine and half months," Sydney yanked up her t-shirt and pointed to her scar, "Dad, this can't be happening."
"Sydney," he reached for her arm and covered the exposed skin. "It doesn't necessarily mean you were pregnant."
Sydney folded her arms resolutely. "And Lazarey?" Because, really, how could you escape that last name?
Jack shook his head. "Let's not jump to conclusions."
"So basically," she got up to begin pacing, "I either carried Sark's baby-or his sibling." Sydney shuddered. "God, this is just so wrong."
He stood and put his hands on her shoulders. "Look. You and Sark are supposed to go on assignment soon. Talk to him then."
Something clicked for Sydney. "That's why you were down there before!"
"Not..." he trailed off. "--exactly."
FLASHBACK
"Mr. Bristow. To what do I owe this honor?" Jack withdrew a pen from his jacket and Sark rolled his eyes. "They really need to get you new toys."
"We have about 60 seconds," Jack answered, suddenly all business.
"I'd say more like 52, by now."
"49, but who's counting? Where did you get the papers?"
"They were part of a file I lifted from the Covenant."
"Can you verify their authenticity?"
Sark held his gaze a beat longer than necessary. "Then you've read them."
"Answer the question, Sark."
"Yes."
Jack nodded to himself. "Does Sydney know?"
The younger man's eyes flicked to the security camera. "Not yet."
"Tell me, Mr. Sark. Do you plan on holding this over my daughter's head to secure your freedom?"
The pen beeped and Sark had to smile.
"Excellent timing." He folded his arms. "But I believe you asked me a question."
Sark waited for Jack to mention something about the cameras, but he didn't. Again, he smiled. "Mr. Bristow," he drawled, the fire in his eyes betraying the calmness in his voice, "I do not plan on holding anything over Sydney's head, regardless of the outcome. We both know I want my freedom, but not enough to put her in a position where she would have to question her value to me."
He looked past Jack expectantly and folded his arms. "Have fun explaining this to her."
END FLASHBACK
By the time he had finished, she was glaring and anything having to do with Jade Lazarey was forgotten. "Dad! I can't believe you did that!" She also couldn't believe Sark's answer. What did he mean by that, anyway?
He shrugged unconcernedly. "It had to be done."
She rolled her eyes and hissed, "So why didn't you just take him into an interrogation room, then? That was totally unnecessary!"
Her adamant defense of Sark had him worried. "Sydney--you're not getting... attached, are you?"
All the air whooshed out of her in one breath. "What if I was?" He opened his mouth to speak and she put a hand up. "You know what? Just forget it. There's nothing you can say that won't make you sound like the world's biggest hypocrite."
Irina did have a habit of showing up in the worst conversations, didn't she? Sydney left the rooftop before he could stop her and Jack had the sensation of being 35 years old again, telling a teenage Sydney, no, she couldn't date the boy next door.
He shook out of it. There were times when he just wished her mother could deal with it. Then again, Irina might just lock Sark and Sydney in a room until they sorted things out.
That probably wouldn't be the best idea.
"I want to see the prisoner," she demanded, quickly flashing her badge. She might have been gone for nearly two years, but it didn't matter whether it was Sark or her mother she wished to see. Sydney Bristow didn't take no for an answer.
The bars raised and she ducked underneath, not willing to wait. Striding up to the guard on duty, she gestured at the door to Sark's cell.
"Open it."
He looked at her helplessly. "Agent Bristow, the prisoner is--"
"--Sleeping, yes, I can see that." She folded her arms and drew herself up to her full height. "Now open the door."
"But--"
Her eyes narrowed in warning.
The bigger man gulped audibly and unlocked the door. Once inside, she felt a moment's remorse for her behavior. She put her hand on the glass, attempting an apology. "Lock us in, if you have to."
The man didn't wait to be asked twice. He locked the door and flew the hallway shortly after. She then turned her attention to Sark.
He was sleeping with his back to her, on his side, affording her a view of the long length of his body. Even though he'd been confined for the past two years, he'd managed to stay fit. Sark probably kept the same exercise routine her mother had. But whereas her mother slept soundly each night-- when she slept in the first place--he was tossing about. If he shifted around much longer, he'd be on a first-name basis with the floor.
She reached in her pocket for a remote and aimed it at the video camera in the corner. The little red light suddenly stopped blinking and the camera shifted to a very uninteresting view of the floor.
Sydney walked over to the cot and perched on the edge of it, unsure of what to do next. What was she supposed to do? Ask him who the hell Jade was? Impulse had led her this far, but she'd taken on look at him and impulse had run away screaming. She hadn't actually thought about what she would do if she'd gotten in.
Saving her from making that decision was Sark himself. His eyes flew open, he flipped their positions, and had her wrists pinned above her head before she could blink.
"Sydney?"
Unable to move, she cast her eyes up towards their hands. "Do you mind?"
Sark reluctantly let go, shifting over to let her sit up. She tucked her knees up and rested her chin on them, starting directly ahead.
"Sydney?" He questioned in a gentler tone.
She tilted her head to look at him. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course," he replied without hesitation.
Not for the first time, Sydney marveled at their current status. Here she was, sharing a cell with one of the most wanted terrorists of the United States Government. And they trusted each other with their lives. Not only that, but it was more comfortable here than it ever was two floors above, talking to the citizens and people who worked for the country.
"Okay," she said. "That's all I'm asking. Just... trust me."
Sark lifted a brow in return and swept his arm at the rest of the cell. "Make yourself at home."
For the first time, she saw the tiny space through his eyes. A person couldn't live like this. She had to get him out. But--she allowed him to help her recline, moving automatically for him to be situated next to her-- maybe it could wait until the morning.
With only an inch of space between them, Sydney took precious care not to jostle them right off the bed. He cursed under his breath. "Forget this," he slung an arm over her waist and tugged her to him. At her shocked look, Sark widened his eyes innocently. "Space issues."
Sydney shook her head. "You are too much."
"Can you forgive me for trying to make the most of a situation?" at her gaping look, he added, "You're the one who came down here, after all, and there's no reason why I should be the one to go crashing to the ground when it's my bed in the first place."
"Sark," she began, watching his eyes watch her, "get some rest. Sleep debt is making you punchy."
"You're an awfully demanding bed-mate, you realize that?"
"So I'm told."
He pinched her side teasingly. "Careful, Sydney. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were beginning to like me."
Sydney moved to put her back at him, and traced a finger along the brick wall. Try as she might, she couldn't fight back the tiny smile that spread across her lips as she drifted off to sleep.
Despite her order, which he was probably supposed to follow since she was, after all, his handler, he'd barely slept. Sark had the sensation of being watched all night and wondered why, exactly, no one had picked up on the fact that there was a very capable agent sharing his bed.
But the brief time he'd been asleep, it was the deepest he'd had in a very long time. Probably before Allison had been doubled. And that was saying a lot. This whole experience was vaguely reminiscent of the first time she'd come to see him after his return, after finding out she'd been assigned to him. Rather unsettling, actually. Like it had been preordained or something. But that was ridiculous.
Wasn't it?
"Morning," Sydney mumbled from behind her yawn.
Sark looked at where she was scrunched against the wall and once again slung his arm around her. "Good morning, my lovely handler. And how did you sleep?"
She chuckled and sat up. "As well as someone can when they don't have much of a mattress. That's going to have to change."
"Agent Bristow, on the case. I'm impressed."
"Well, I figured if I wanted to hide from people again, it had better be comfortable."
His gaze softened. So she was hiding, then. But that couldn't have been the entire story. "Why are you doing this?"
She sighed and leaned her head against the hard brick wall. "Because, when you look at me, I don't have to scramble and try to fit your perceptions of the person I should be. You don't expect anything from me and yet I always feel like I should be giving something to you. When I'm with you, I can just be Sydney. I don't have to be Sydney-minus-two-years or Sydney-the- prodigal-daughter, or Sydney-the-woman-who-was-loved-by-Agent-Vaughn." She turned her head to look at him. "And I'm sorry if you were expecting this short little answer that--"
Sark cupped her cheek in his hand, the touch startling Sydney from her confession. With his eyes locked on hers, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers briefly, with just enough pressure to infer the true intent. It was over far too soon and she found she had to physically restrain herself from responding further. There had to be a reason he'd stopped when he did. Sark always had a reason.
"Don't ask me what that was," he kept his eyes on her face, visually caressing her features when he would not lift his hand to do the same. "It doesn't matter what that was."
"It doesn't matter." She repeated, obviously confused.
His brow rose and he firmly added, "--What that was. The act itself," a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips, "of course, does."
She watched him without saying a word for nearly a full minute. Just when he thought he was about to fidget, she exhaled loudly and stood up. "I should go."
Amused, Sark reclined back against the metal cot. "Yes. Preferably before they locate your hiding spot."
"So. I'm, uh--"
"--Going." He finished, the amusement turning into a full-fledged smirk.
She didn't hate that he was laughing at her as much as she should have. Rather, she was thinking more of what would inevitably happen once she left the relevant safety of his cell. Outside was the world where people and feelings and unknown destinies and old prophets collided. She'd been drawn into that world and was desperately clawing her way out. But it seemed that every time she got closer, every time she began to see beyond the darkness of the hole she was stuck in, something set her back.
If she took too many more setbacks, she'd be at square one. And she knew that she didn't have the strength to fight from there.
Sark noticed her rapid deterioration. He closed his eyes as if in prayer and mumbled something softly before getting up and walking over to her. "At the risk of sounding terribly redundant, I'm going to do my best to reassure you that everything will work out."
"How do you know that?"
His look of concern melted away as he lifted his chin deliberately. "I just do."
Sydney gave him a long, hard look in return. But she was unable to fight the smile creeping across her lips. "Whatever you say, Sark."
Thankful that she was smiling and at least one of their mutual problems had been resolved, Sark returned to his cot. It suddenly looked much more appealing. He wondered if that had anything to do with the fact that Sydney had slept on it. Probably.
Once she was led away, he let a frown surface. He hadn't wanted to retreat into arrogance to pull her out of her depression. Actually, he hadn't wanted to pull her out of the mood in the first place. That was something she was going to need to learn, and fast, especially if she wanted to stay alive in their business. She didn't need to be coddled and he almost hated himself for giving into the urge. One way or another, she would come out of this.
But not without scars.
She had to be tough enough to see the scars, acknowledge they were there, and move on. She had to learn to live with them.
Otherwise, she simply wouldn't survive.
He glanced out the glass wall. No one. Then he looked up at the camera. It was still pointed at the floor. Certain that no one was watching him, at least at that moment, Sark carefully fitted his fingers between the mattress and the metal holder. He smiled when they ran along the fabric of the jacket.
Some spy she was.
"Hey, Bristow!"
Sydney turned to see Weiss waving her down. She smiled and waited for him to catch up. "I was just going to grab some breakfast down the street. You want to come?"
"Yeah, sure. Hey, listen. Is everything okay?"
She waited until they were in the elevator to answer him. "Sure. Why? You think there's something wrong with me?" There was a slight smile on her face as she teased him.
He rolled his eyes. "No, it's just--I didn't hear you get in last night. Wasn't sure if you were stuck with the write-up from hell or something."
They exited the elevator and left the building.
"I had some work to catch up on," Sydney allowed, hesitating. At his encouraging smile, she went on, "And I wanted to make sure Sark was doing okay."
Weiss stopped short, grabbing her arm. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? It sounded like--"
"--I know what it sounded like. But yesterday, my father had been down to see him and I wanted to make sure he hadn't," Sydney paused, trying to find the words.
He found them for her. "Roughed him up beyond all sense of reason?"
She playfully swung her fist at him. "Weiss!"
"Hey, you know it's the truth!" He ordered for them at the little breakfast stand. When their order was up, he handed her a bagel with cream cheese, which she munched on gratefully. They wandered over to a bench and sat for a minute, just enjoying each other's company.
"So how was he? Was he bruised or anything?"
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I almost just spit bagel at you."
He waved her off nonchalantly. "It's happened before. Many women lose their appetite after just catching a glimpse of me." Weiss frowned. "Wait. That didn't come out right."
Still smiling, Sydney gave him an edited version of her rooftop meeting with her father, leaving out the parts about Jade and all things possibly related to Lazarey. She did, however, not skimp on the details of her father's visit to Sark.
"So then I asked why he didn't just strap Sark down and start asking the questions--"
"--Because you'd rather be the one doing that," Weiss so helpfully supplied.
"--Right," Sydney agreed, not really paying attention, "and he--" she blinked. "What did you just say?"
Weiss grinned. "So, where's that picture?"
Sydney put up her hand. "Whoa. Slow down."
"No." He pulled her to her feet and they walked back to the CIA building. "I really want to see it. I know you picked it up from the art dealer last week, I heard you talking on the phone. Would you consider a private showing? Just for me?" A thought crossed his mind and his eyes widened. "Is it a dirty picture?!"
Her jaw dropped. "Weiss!"
"Well, you never know. And you still haven't given me an answer. Maybe it is a dirty picture."
"I am not going to dignify that with a response."
He shook his head mock-despairingly. "Ah, Syd. At least I can say I knew you when your mind wasn't so entrenched in naughty things."
She stopped dead in her tracks.
Weiss laughed. "Last one to their desk is a rotten egg!"
Sydney finally gave into the laughter that had been bubbling at the surface ever since they'd exchanged hellos.
"Phew. Mission accomplished." He wiped some imaginary sweat off his brow. "I finally got you to laugh."
Sydney slung her arm around him and they walked back to the offices.
According to Dixon, there had been new intel that could be beneficial to use against the Covenant. But, also according to Dixon, Sark was needed at the meeting. Sydney and Weiss were dispatched to retrieve him.
Sark was doing pushups when they stopped at his cell. He got up and dusted his hands off. "Nice to see you again so soon, Sydney."
Mindful of Weiss' presence, she retorted, "Shove it, Sark."
But Weiss caught the smile and good-natured tone she sent Sark's way. Interesting.
As the guard unlocked the door and presented Sark to the two agents for approval, Weiss leaned over to Sydney and whispered in her ear. "Are you sure all you did was talk?"
Her eyes widened in outrage and she elbowed him in the side. "Stop it."
Sark took in their exchange and settled between the two. "Well. Shall we?"
Weiss grinned. "Yeah. Let's go before Dixon sends Jack after us."
Sydney closed her eyes in embarrassment and blindly walked ahead of them.
"I am going to pretend I have some idea of what is going on," Sark told the other man, "and assume that you've been teasing Sydney about her father's somewhat... overprotective nature."
"Something like that," Weiss agreed, as they left the detention center. "Something like that."
They were halfway there when he couldn't ignore it any longer. Weiss looked at Sark and Sydney. Sydney and Sark. Sark and Sydney.
"What?" She asked at last, getting tired of the measured looks.
"Nothing," he put his hands in the air, as if trying to ward off her sharp tone and dark look.
He kept staring.
"Weiss!!"
He jumped slightly at her voice. "What?"
She rolled her eyes. Sark couldn't help but smirk and realized it would be prudent to step in before the other man had a black eye. "Agent Weiss, I believe what Miss Bristow is trying to convey--by her thinly veiled death look and spiteful tone of voice--is that your staring is not appreciated."
"Oh, so now it's Miss Bristow?"
Sark met Sydney's incredulous look with a tolerant one of his own and actually had to put a hand on her arm to get her moving again. "Just ignore him," he murmured, leaning down to her ear.
She just focused on putting one foot in front of the other and tried to distract her mind from all the ways she could put Weiss in pain with a few quick maneuvers. He was still staring as they walked into the Debrief room. When Sydney was certain that no one was watching, she punched him on the arm.
"Ow!"
Dixon and Jack looked up expectantly.
He chuckled nervously. "Ah--I had a cramp. In my foot. Sorry."
They nodded and went back to their discussion. He glared at Sydney, who smiled sweetly from her seat in return and looked down to examine her fingernails. Sark winked at him.
While he was busy gaping, Lauren and Vaughn walked in. She smiled and went to sit next to him. Vaughn took the other seat and leaned over. "You okay?"
He shook out of it. "Oh sure. Just trying to get used to Bonnie and Clyde over there, that's all."
Vaughn finally noticed where a prison-clad Sark was seated comfortably next to Sydney on the other side of the room. He opened his mouth to speak just as Jack inquired of his health.
Slowly, his gaze swung away from the two people across the room that seemed to be in their own world and was met with a frank stare from the elder Bristow.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking."
Jack nodded. "I was glad to help Lauren with the release forms," he looked pointedly at Weiss, "it's good to have you back."
Vaughn, who was a little overwhelmed at the show of--well, anything--from Jack Bristow, managed to say thank you again and fell silent. Lauren reached across Weiss and squeezed his hand comfortingly.
From her seat, Sydney sent her father a grateful look that did not go unnoticed by Sark. He also saw Jack's slight responsive nod, and got the feeling that things had been restored between the two. Irina would have been pleased. He tucked that nugget of information away for later use and came back to see Marshall walking in the room.
"Uh--sorry I'm late, everyone. There was a problem with the video feed in the, uh, prison area--Mr. Sark's cell, to be exact--" he looked up from his clipboard to find Sark staring at him and gulped--"Which is not to say that Sark had anything to do with it, 'cause y'know, I'm sure he didn't, but I had to fix it and talk to the tech guys and--"
"--Marshall," Dixon quietly interrupted, gesturing to the open seat.
He gratefully sat and ducked when he saw Sark watching him curiously.
"Is Marshall," Sark whispered to Sydney, "all right? Why does he keep looking me as if I'm going to shoot him in front of six witnesses?"
She hid a smile behind her hand. "He's Marshall," she replied, as if that explained everything.
"Yes, I can see that." He dryly replied. "That hasn't changed."
Dixon stood up, and aimed a remote at the plasma screen at the front of the table. A tall, dark-haired man filled the screen. "The man you see here claims to have information on the Covenant. He's willing to sell to the highest bidder--but our intel indicates that he also has information on the former Alliance, The Man's organization, and the KGB."
Jack looked at Dixon in askance, who nodded. "Obviously, this would be an incredible asset for the CIA if we got in touch with him--anything on the Covenant is welcome at this point. Sark, Sydney, you're going in to rendezvous with him in Milan. He'll be waiting on the rooftop of this restaurant."
A picture of a flashy restaurant shared half of the screen with the contact. It looked loud and bright--everything that a normal person trying to save their skin wouldn't ordinarily choose.
"And we're sure that they want to meet here?" Vaughn questioned, voicing what everyone in the room was thinking.
"It is strange to pick such a public place for a meet such as this," Jack admitted, "but this source hasn't steered us wrong before and we're learning that everything the man predicts almost nearly always comes true."
"It's Sloane," Sydney jokingly whispered to Sark, with a smirk on her face.
He merely cleared his throat in response, getting Jack's attention in the process. "Am I to understand that Agent Bristow and I are being shipped off to Italy soon?"
"Three hours," Dixon put in, nodding slightly at the pair. "Marshall with see to the op-tech and there will be a jet waiting for you at a nearby military airspace."
"Do you want us to bring him in?" Sydney asked.
"If you can. If it's too much of a risk, then let him go--we want to extend a gesture of goodwill toward him and taking him into custody may not be the best way to do that." Jack answered.
Dixon turned off the screen and folded his hands. "You'll have authorization to complete the transaction with money from an off-shore account. If there are no other questions, you two should get your things ready to go. The sooner you're there, the better chances we have of a successful exchange."
Sydney glanced at Marshall. "Oh, right. Um, Syd, if you and Sark could just stop by before you go, I'll have what you need for the trip."
"You got it," she smiled at him.
He smiled back and left the room, hurrying to get the stuff together. Weiss, Lauren and Vaughn watched as Sark and Sydney left the room without another word.
"If you're wondering why you were invited to this meeting," Jack began, drawing their attention away from the departing pair, "Dixon felt it would be best to keep you appraised of the current situation with the Covenant. Of course, that won't mean much if you just stay here all day," he stood up and headed for the door, "so I suggest you get back to work."
Weiss just shook his head in disbelief. "Just when you think you're beginning to know Jack Bristow..."
Vaughn shook his head. "Why did I think the man was starting to like me?"
Lauren looked at the two men and shook her head. "You two are really taking it too personally. Jack's just concerned about Sydney. Can't you see that?"
Weiss and Vaughn exchanged looks. Sydney was going on a mission with Sark. Of course Jack was worried about Sydney. They all were.
Note: Well. I suppose I owe you all some explanation for that ending. I really don't know what's gotten into me lately with these cliffhangers. They just sort of hang on to me and refuse to let go. We're slowly winding down here, and we're almost done. Give it maybe three more chapters. Then comes the sequel. :D
Special thanks to Katana for the beta. You're the bestest!
To say she was shocked would have been putting it mildly.
"What?"
He spoke slowly, as if reciting the details from memory. "You carried Jade for a little over nine months. After that, there was no record of her. There's barely anything about her in the file that Sark took the Covenant because they didn't understand just whom Jade was in relation to you. She's mentioned a total of four times, but nothing beyond that."
She snatched the papers out of its hands, read it over again and gasped. "No. This can't be happening. You're telling me I carried someone inside me for nine and half months," Sydney yanked up her t-shirt and pointed to her scar, "Dad, this can't be happening."
"Sydney," he reached for her arm and covered the exposed skin. "It doesn't necessarily mean you were pregnant."
Sydney folded her arms resolutely. "And Lazarey?" Because, really, how could you escape that last name?
Jack shook his head. "Let's not jump to conclusions."
"So basically," she got up to begin pacing, "I either carried Sark's baby-or his sibling." Sydney shuddered. "God, this is just so wrong."
He stood and put his hands on her shoulders. "Look. You and Sark are supposed to go on assignment soon. Talk to him then."
Something clicked for Sydney. "That's why you were down there before!"
"Not..." he trailed off. "--exactly."
FLASHBACK
"Mr. Bristow. To what do I owe this honor?" Jack withdrew a pen from his jacket and Sark rolled his eyes. "They really need to get you new toys."
"We have about 60 seconds," Jack answered, suddenly all business.
"I'd say more like 52, by now."
"49, but who's counting? Where did you get the papers?"
"They were part of a file I lifted from the Covenant."
"Can you verify their authenticity?"
Sark held his gaze a beat longer than necessary. "Then you've read them."
"Answer the question, Sark."
"Yes."
Jack nodded to himself. "Does Sydney know?"
The younger man's eyes flicked to the security camera. "Not yet."
"Tell me, Mr. Sark. Do you plan on holding this over my daughter's head to secure your freedom?"
The pen beeped and Sark had to smile.
"Excellent timing." He folded his arms. "But I believe you asked me a question."
Sark waited for Jack to mention something about the cameras, but he didn't. Again, he smiled. "Mr. Bristow," he drawled, the fire in his eyes betraying the calmness in his voice, "I do not plan on holding anything over Sydney's head, regardless of the outcome. We both know I want my freedom, but not enough to put her in a position where she would have to question her value to me."
He looked past Jack expectantly and folded his arms. "Have fun explaining this to her."
END FLASHBACK
By the time he had finished, she was glaring and anything having to do with Jade Lazarey was forgotten. "Dad! I can't believe you did that!" She also couldn't believe Sark's answer. What did he mean by that, anyway?
He shrugged unconcernedly. "It had to be done."
She rolled her eyes and hissed, "So why didn't you just take him into an interrogation room, then? That was totally unnecessary!"
Her adamant defense of Sark had him worried. "Sydney--you're not getting... attached, are you?"
All the air whooshed out of her in one breath. "What if I was?" He opened his mouth to speak and she put a hand up. "You know what? Just forget it. There's nothing you can say that won't make you sound like the world's biggest hypocrite."
Irina did have a habit of showing up in the worst conversations, didn't she? Sydney left the rooftop before he could stop her and Jack had the sensation of being 35 years old again, telling a teenage Sydney, no, she couldn't date the boy next door.
He shook out of it. There were times when he just wished her mother could deal with it. Then again, Irina might just lock Sark and Sydney in a room until they sorted things out.
That probably wouldn't be the best idea.
"I want to see the prisoner," she demanded, quickly flashing her badge. She might have been gone for nearly two years, but it didn't matter whether it was Sark or her mother she wished to see. Sydney Bristow didn't take no for an answer.
The bars raised and she ducked underneath, not willing to wait. Striding up to the guard on duty, she gestured at the door to Sark's cell.
"Open it."
He looked at her helplessly. "Agent Bristow, the prisoner is--"
"--Sleeping, yes, I can see that." She folded her arms and drew herself up to her full height. "Now open the door."
"But--"
Her eyes narrowed in warning.
The bigger man gulped audibly and unlocked the door. Once inside, she felt a moment's remorse for her behavior. She put her hand on the glass, attempting an apology. "Lock us in, if you have to."
The man didn't wait to be asked twice. He locked the door and flew the hallway shortly after. She then turned her attention to Sark.
He was sleeping with his back to her, on his side, affording her a view of the long length of his body. Even though he'd been confined for the past two years, he'd managed to stay fit. Sark probably kept the same exercise routine her mother had. But whereas her mother slept soundly each night-- when she slept in the first place--he was tossing about. If he shifted around much longer, he'd be on a first-name basis with the floor.
She reached in her pocket for a remote and aimed it at the video camera in the corner. The little red light suddenly stopped blinking and the camera shifted to a very uninteresting view of the floor.
Sydney walked over to the cot and perched on the edge of it, unsure of what to do next. What was she supposed to do? Ask him who the hell Jade was? Impulse had led her this far, but she'd taken on look at him and impulse had run away screaming. She hadn't actually thought about what she would do if she'd gotten in.
Saving her from making that decision was Sark himself. His eyes flew open, he flipped their positions, and had her wrists pinned above her head before she could blink.
"Sydney?"
Unable to move, she cast her eyes up towards their hands. "Do you mind?"
Sark reluctantly let go, shifting over to let her sit up. She tucked her knees up and rested her chin on them, starting directly ahead.
"Sydney?" He questioned in a gentler tone.
She tilted her head to look at him. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course," he replied without hesitation.
Not for the first time, Sydney marveled at their current status. Here she was, sharing a cell with one of the most wanted terrorists of the United States Government. And they trusted each other with their lives. Not only that, but it was more comfortable here than it ever was two floors above, talking to the citizens and people who worked for the country.
"Okay," she said. "That's all I'm asking. Just... trust me."
Sark lifted a brow in return and swept his arm at the rest of the cell. "Make yourself at home."
For the first time, she saw the tiny space through his eyes. A person couldn't live like this. She had to get him out. But--she allowed him to help her recline, moving automatically for him to be situated next to her-- maybe it could wait until the morning.
With only an inch of space between them, Sydney took precious care not to jostle them right off the bed. He cursed under his breath. "Forget this," he slung an arm over her waist and tugged her to him. At her shocked look, Sark widened his eyes innocently. "Space issues."
Sydney shook her head. "You are too much."
"Can you forgive me for trying to make the most of a situation?" at her gaping look, he added, "You're the one who came down here, after all, and there's no reason why I should be the one to go crashing to the ground when it's my bed in the first place."
"Sark," she began, watching his eyes watch her, "get some rest. Sleep debt is making you punchy."
"You're an awfully demanding bed-mate, you realize that?"
"So I'm told."
He pinched her side teasingly. "Careful, Sydney. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were beginning to like me."
Sydney moved to put her back at him, and traced a finger along the brick wall. Try as she might, she couldn't fight back the tiny smile that spread across her lips as she drifted off to sleep.
Despite her order, which he was probably supposed to follow since she was, after all, his handler, he'd barely slept. Sark had the sensation of being watched all night and wondered why, exactly, no one had picked up on the fact that there was a very capable agent sharing his bed.
But the brief time he'd been asleep, it was the deepest he'd had in a very long time. Probably before Allison had been doubled. And that was saying a lot. This whole experience was vaguely reminiscent of the first time she'd come to see him after his return, after finding out she'd been assigned to him. Rather unsettling, actually. Like it had been preordained or something. But that was ridiculous.
Wasn't it?
"Morning," Sydney mumbled from behind her yawn.
Sark looked at where she was scrunched against the wall and once again slung his arm around her. "Good morning, my lovely handler. And how did you sleep?"
She chuckled and sat up. "As well as someone can when they don't have much of a mattress. That's going to have to change."
"Agent Bristow, on the case. I'm impressed."
"Well, I figured if I wanted to hide from people again, it had better be comfortable."
His gaze softened. So she was hiding, then. But that couldn't have been the entire story. "Why are you doing this?"
She sighed and leaned her head against the hard brick wall. "Because, when you look at me, I don't have to scramble and try to fit your perceptions of the person I should be. You don't expect anything from me and yet I always feel like I should be giving something to you. When I'm with you, I can just be Sydney. I don't have to be Sydney-minus-two-years or Sydney-the- prodigal-daughter, or Sydney-the-woman-who-was-loved-by-Agent-Vaughn." She turned her head to look at him. "And I'm sorry if you were expecting this short little answer that--"
Sark cupped her cheek in his hand, the touch startling Sydney from her confession. With his eyes locked on hers, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers briefly, with just enough pressure to infer the true intent. It was over far too soon and she found she had to physically restrain herself from responding further. There had to be a reason he'd stopped when he did. Sark always had a reason.
"Don't ask me what that was," he kept his eyes on her face, visually caressing her features when he would not lift his hand to do the same. "It doesn't matter what that was."
"It doesn't matter." She repeated, obviously confused.
His brow rose and he firmly added, "--What that was. The act itself," a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips, "of course, does."
She watched him without saying a word for nearly a full minute. Just when he thought he was about to fidget, she exhaled loudly and stood up. "I should go."
Amused, Sark reclined back against the metal cot. "Yes. Preferably before they locate your hiding spot."
"So. I'm, uh--"
"--Going." He finished, the amusement turning into a full-fledged smirk.
She didn't hate that he was laughing at her as much as she should have. Rather, she was thinking more of what would inevitably happen once she left the relevant safety of his cell. Outside was the world where people and feelings and unknown destinies and old prophets collided. She'd been drawn into that world and was desperately clawing her way out. But it seemed that every time she got closer, every time she began to see beyond the darkness of the hole she was stuck in, something set her back.
If she took too many more setbacks, she'd be at square one. And she knew that she didn't have the strength to fight from there.
Sark noticed her rapid deterioration. He closed his eyes as if in prayer and mumbled something softly before getting up and walking over to her. "At the risk of sounding terribly redundant, I'm going to do my best to reassure you that everything will work out."
"How do you know that?"
His look of concern melted away as he lifted his chin deliberately. "I just do."
Sydney gave him a long, hard look in return. But she was unable to fight the smile creeping across her lips. "Whatever you say, Sark."
Thankful that she was smiling and at least one of their mutual problems had been resolved, Sark returned to his cot. It suddenly looked much more appealing. He wondered if that had anything to do with the fact that Sydney had slept on it. Probably.
Once she was led away, he let a frown surface. He hadn't wanted to retreat into arrogance to pull her out of her depression. Actually, he hadn't wanted to pull her out of the mood in the first place. That was something she was going to need to learn, and fast, especially if she wanted to stay alive in their business. She didn't need to be coddled and he almost hated himself for giving into the urge. One way or another, she would come out of this.
But not without scars.
She had to be tough enough to see the scars, acknowledge they were there, and move on. She had to learn to live with them.
Otherwise, she simply wouldn't survive.
He glanced out the glass wall. No one. Then he looked up at the camera. It was still pointed at the floor. Certain that no one was watching him, at least at that moment, Sark carefully fitted his fingers between the mattress and the metal holder. He smiled when they ran along the fabric of the jacket.
Some spy she was.
"Hey, Bristow!"
Sydney turned to see Weiss waving her down. She smiled and waited for him to catch up. "I was just going to grab some breakfast down the street. You want to come?"
"Yeah, sure. Hey, listen. Is everything okay?"
She waited until they were in the elevator to answer him. "Sure. Why? You think there's something wrong with me?" There was a slight smile on her face as she teased him.
He rolled his eyes. "No, it's just--I didn't hear you get in last night. Wasn't sure if you were stuck with the write-up from hell or something."
They exited the elevator and left the building.
"I had some work to catch up on," Sydney allowed, hesitating. At his encouraging smile, she went on, "And I wanted to make sure Sark was doing okay."
Weiss stopped short, grabbing her arm. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? It sounded like--"
"--I know what it sounded like. But yesterday, my father had been down to see him and I wanted to make sure he hadn't," Sydney paused, trying to find the words.
He found them for her. "Roughed him up beyond all sense of reason?"
She playfully swung her fist at him. "Weiss!"
"Hey, you know it's the truth!" He ordered for them at the little breakfast stand. When their order was up, he handed her a bagel with cream cheese, which she munched on gratefully. They wandered over to a bench and sat for a minute, just enjoying each other's company.
"So how was he? Was he bruised or anything?"
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I almost just spit bagel at you."
He waved her off nonchalantly. "It's happened before. Many women lose their appetite after just catching a glimpse of me." Weiss frowned. "Wait. That didn't come out right."
Still smiling, Sydney gave him an edited version of her rooftop meeting with her father, leaving out the parts about Jade and all things possibly related to Lazarey. She did, however, not skimp on the details of her father's visit to Sark.
"So then I asked why he didn't just strap Sark down and start asking the questions--"
"--Because you'd rather be the one doing that," Weiss so helpfully supplied.
"--Right," Sydney agreed, not really paying attention, "and he--" she blinked. "What did you just say?"
Weiss grinned. "So, where's that picture?"
Sydney put up her hand. "Whoa. Slow down."
"No." He pulled her to her feet and they walked back to the CIA building. "I really want to see it. I know you picked it up from the art dealer last week, I heard you talking on the phone. Would you consider a private showing? Just for me?" A thought crossed his mind and his eyes widened. "Is it a dirty picture?!"
Her jaw dropped. "Weiss!"
"Well, you never know. And you still haven't given me an answer. Maybe it is a dirty picture."
"I am not going to dignify that with a response."
He shook his head mock-despairingly. "Ah, Syd. At least I can say I knew you when your mind wasn't so entrenched in naughty things."
She stopped dead in her tracks.
Weiss laughed. "Last one to their desk is a rotten egg!"
Sydney finally gave into the laughter that had been bubbling at the surface ever since they'd exchanged hellos.
"Phew. Mission accomplished." He wiped some imaginary sweat off his brow. "I finally got you to laugh."
Sydney slung her arm around him and they walked back to the offices.
According to Dixon, there had been new intel that could be beneficial to use against the Covenant. But, also according to Dixon, Sark was needed at the meeting. Sydney and Weiss were dispatched to retrieve him.
Sark was doing pushups when they stopped at his cell. He got up and dusted his hands off. "Nice to see you again so soon, Sydney."
Mindful of Weiss' presence, she retorted, "Shove it, Sark."
But Weiss caught the smile and good-natured tone she sent Sark's way. Interesting.
As the guard unlocked the door and presented Sark to the two agents for approval, Weiss leaned over to Sydney and whispered in her ear. "Are you sure all you did was talk?"
Her eyes widened in outrage and she elbowed him in the side. "Stop it."
Sark took in their exchange and settled between the two. "Well. Shall we?"
Weiss grinned. "Yeah. Let's go before Dixon sends Jack after us."
Sydney closed her eyes in embarrassment and blindly walked ahead of them.
"I am going to pretend I have some idea of what is going on," Sark told the other man, "and assume that you've been teasing Sydney about her father's somewhat... overprotective nature."
"Something like that," Weiss agreed, as they left the detention center. "Something like that."
They were halfway there when he couldn't ignore it any longer. Weiss looked at Sark and Sydney. Sydney and Sark. Sark and Sydney.
"What?" She asked at last, getting tired of the measured looks.
"Nothing," he put his hands in the air, as if trying to ward off her sharp tone and dark look.
He kept staring.
"Weiss!!"
He jumped slightly at her voice. "What?"
She rolled her eyes. Sark couldn't help but smirk and realized it would be prudent to step in before the other man had a black eye. "Agent Weiss, I believe what Miss Bristow is trying to convey--by her thinly veiled death look and spiteful tone of voice--is that your staring is not appreciated."
"Oh, so now it's Miss Bristow?"
Sark met Sydney's incredulous look with a tolerant one of his own and actually had to put a hand on her arm to get her moving again. "Just ignore him," he murmured, leaning down to her ear.
She just focused on putting one foot in front of the other and tried to distract her mind from all the ways she could put Weiss in pain with a few quick maneuvers. He was still staring as they walked into the Debrief room. When Sydney was certain that no one was watching, she punched him on the arm.
"Ow!"
Dixon and Jack looked up expectantly.
He chuckled nervously. "Ah--I had a cramp. In my foot. Sorry."
They nodded and went back to their discussion. He glared at Sydney, who smiled sweetly from her seat in return and looked down to examine her fingernails. Sark winked at him.
While he was busy gaping, Lauren and Vaughn walked in. She smiled and went to sit next to him. Vaughn took the other seat and leaned over. "You okay?"
He shook out of it. "Oh sure. Just trying to get used to Bonnie and Clyde over there, that's all."
Vaughn finally noticed where a prison-clad Sark was seated comfortably next to Sydney on the other side of the room. He opened his mouth to speak just as Jack inquired of his health.
Slowly, his gaze swung away from the two people across the room that seemed to be in their own world and was met with a frank stare from the elder Bristow.
"I'm fine, thanks for asking."
Jack nodded. "I was glad to help Lauren with the release forms," he looked pointedly at Weiss, "it's good to have you back."
Vaughn, who was a little overwhelmed at the show of--well, anything--from Jack Bristow, managed to say thank you again and fell silent. Lauren reached across Weiss and squeezed his hand comfortingly.
From her seat, Sydney sent her father a grateful look that did not go unnoticed by Sark. He also saw Jack's slight responsive nod, and got the feeling that things had been restored between the two. Irina would have been pleased. He tucked that nugget of information away for later use and came back to see Marshall walking in the room.
"Uh--sorry I'm late, everyone. There was a problem with the video feed in the, uh, prison area--Mr. Sark's cell, to be exact--" he looked up from his clipboard to find Sark staring at him and gulped--"Which is not to say that Sark had anything to do with it, 'cause y'know, I'm sure he didn't, but I had to fix it and talk to the tech guys and--"
"--Marshall," Dixon quietly interrupted, gesturing to the open seat.
He gratefully sat and ducked when he saw Sark watching him curiously.
"Is Marshall," Sark whispered to Sydney, "all right? Why does he keep looking me as if I'm going to shoot him in front of six witnesses?"
She hid a smile behind her hand. "He's Marshall," she replied, as if that explained everything.
"Yes, I can see that." He dryly replied. "That hasn't changed."
Dixon stood up, and aimed a remote at the plasma screen at the front of the table. A tall, dark-haired man filled the screen. "The man you see here claims to have information on the Covenant. He's willing to sell to the highest bidder--but our intel indicates that he also has information on the former Alliance, The Man's organization, and the KGB."
Jack looked at Dixon in askance, who nodded. "Obviously, this would be an incredible asset for the CIA if we got in touch with him--anything on the Covenant is welcome at this point. Sark, Sydney, you're going in to rendezvous with him in Milan. He'll be waiting on the rooftop of this restaurant."
A picture of a flashy restaurant shared half of the screen with the contact. It looked loud and bright--everything that a normal person trying to save their skin wouldn't ordinarily choose.
"And we're sure that they want to meet here?" Vaughn questioned, voicing what everyone in the room was thinking.
"It is strange to pick such a public place for a meet such as this," Jack admitted, "but this source hasn't steered us wrong before and we're learning that everything the man predicts almost nearly always comes true."
"It's Sloane," Sydney jokingly whispered to Sark, with a smirk on her face.
He merely cleared his throat in response, getting Jack's attention in the process. "Am I to understand that Agent Bristow and I are being shipped off to Italy soon?"
"Three hours," Dixon put in, nodding slightly at the pair. "Marshall with see to the op-tech and there will be a jet waiting for you at a nearby military airspace."
"Do you want us to bring him in?" Sydney asked.
"If you can. If it's too much of a risk, then let him go--we want to extend a gesture of goodwill toward him and taking him into custody may not be the best way to do that." Jack answered.
Dixon turned off the screen and folded his hands. "You'll have authorization to complete the transaction with money from an off-shore account. If there are no other questions, you two should get your things ready to go. The sooner you're there, the better chances we have of a successful exchange."
Sydney glanced at Marshall. "Oh, right. Um, Syd, if you and Sark could just stop by before you go, I'll have what you need for the trip."
"You got it," she smiled at him.
He smiled back and left the room, hurrying to get the stuff together. Weiss, Lauren and Vaughn watched as Sark and Sydney left the room without another word.
"If you're wondering why you were invited to this meeting," Jack began, drawing their attention away from the departing pair, "Dixon felt it would be best to keep you appraised of the current situation with the Covenant. Of course, that won't mean much if you just stay here all day," he stood up and headed for the door, "so I suggest you get back to work."
Weiss just shook his head in disbelief. "Just when you think you're beginning to know Jack Bristow..."
Vaughn shook his head. "Why did I think the man was starting to like me?"
Lauren looked at the two men and shook her head. "You two are really taking it too personally. Jack's just concerned about Sydney. Can't you see that?"
Weiss and Vaughn exchanged looks. Sydney was going on a mission with Sark. Of course Jack was worried about Sydney. They all were.