This is my first fic, so enjoy, and give me lots of feedback!!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, all is in fun....
Summary: This is what should have happened after the infamous lime kiss in Season 4's Man of His Word. Anna doesn't shoot Sanko, and Syd and Vaughn aren't together ever since Nocturne, when Sydney told him what she was afraid of and how she felt betrayed by him for marrying Lauren. Also, Weiss is backup with Vaughn at the club. I know the first part is a bit short, but I just wanted to get a little something in about what happened before they got there, to give a little more background. A little bit of S/V history stuff at the beginning, but it gets S/S, I promise!!!.
Rating: K+ at the moment, will be rated M in later chapters
Prologue
Sydney Bristow hated being blonde, but there was something rather exhilarating in it for her tonight. She thought it might be because tonight her alias was Lauren Reed. Specifically, she thought this would be exciting because of how insane it would make Vaughn to see her playing Lauren: the version of Lauren that was cheating on him with a younger good-looking man.
He should be jealous, she thought to herself, as she put in her dark blue contact lenses. She knew it was vindictive, but she loved watching him become agitated when she flirted with other men in the office. She was hurt. He deserved to be also. Sydney hated Sark, but she had a feeling she would be enjoying this op.
She felt a pair of eyes at her back. She turned to see Vaughn, forcibly steeling himself up to what was to happen next. Affecting an English accent the graceful Agent Bristow asked of her former lover, "How's this?"
"Perfect," he snipped.
*** *** ***
Julian Sark missed his cars. More than any other amenity that he was without during his long incarceration, he missed his cars the most. This moment made up for it. He was standing outside of the hotel in Venice watching the valet drive around a two door Aston Martin V12 Vanquish Convertible in Jet Black. The car may as well have been painted in Sex, and the many other gawking guests at the hotel clearly agreed.
"Don't get any ideas of escape, there buddy," quipped Weiss. "She may be fast, but she's sure as shit not gonna get you away from that tracker and explosive device we've got implanted in you."
"I would never even have considered the idea, Agent Weiss. I said I was going to help you, so I'm going to help you."
"Yeah, right, whatever."
"I don't know why none of you people take me at my word," he retorted rather haughtily.
"Oh I don't know. Maybe it's because you're a mass murderer, terrorist, and you're selling out and old partner," returned Weiss, obviously pleased with himself.
"Has anyone ever thought that I might just want to work for the good guys now?" Sark asked innocently.
"No."
"Alright then," he answered, as he turned to inspect the car of his wet dreams. He walked lazily around the convertible, absentmindedly fingering the paint, enjoying the smooth sensation of the fresh coat of wax under his hands. As he reached the driver's side door, he stopped and automatically took a short quick breath.
He always enjoyed seeing Sydney. Despite her status as "enemy," he respected her talent, appreciated her brains and he never hid the fact that he found her to be quite stunning. Tonight, however, had anyone been looking for him to speak at this moment, he would have found it impossible to articulate a single syllable.
Sydney, as Lauren strutted out of the hotel through the revolving glass door, clad in black leather from head to toe. The heat radiated off the hood of the car, causing her skin and bright blonde hair to shimmer in the warm Italian night. She glared at him with cold piercing eyes, as if daring him to say anything at all.
The dare whipped him out of his reverie, as he snapped his well practiced crooked half smirk into place on his smooth, boyish face. He strode around the car quickly, opening the door for the beautiful agent. She glided into the car with neither a word nor glance at Sark. He was about to close the door after her, when a disgruntled Agent Vaughn pulled Sark aside by the collar.
"Be careful of the suit. Whoever pressed it did an excellent job. I would hate for their hard work to go to waste," dripped coolly out of his mouth.
"One misstep tonight, Sark, and I'll blow your head off," Michael quietly forced through gritted teeth.
Sark heard a barely audible 'hmph' from behind him, and smiled, snarling at Vaughn, "It would appear, Agent Vaughn, that mine are not the missteps you ought to be concerning yourself with."
Agent Vaughn, scowling, turned away, then quickly turned back pulling a quick jab to Sark's stomach. Sark let out a deep breathy cry, as Sydney jumped out of the car. She and Weiss pulled Vaughn off the bent over man, as Sark flashed an infuriating smirk in his direction, then at Sydney, then back at Michael.
"I'll be watching you all night you son-of-a-bitch. Don't think for one second that if you try anything I won't turn your brains to hamburger chuck! If you so much as look at her funny so help me God I'll..."
"Vaughn!" Sydney shouted. "You," she pointed at Vaughn, "stop it! We need him on this whether we like it or not."
"And you," she added, pointing to a now upright Sark, "stop baiting him! You have no power here, and as soon as we get back to the States, you are back in that cell, never to be seen or heard from again."
Sydney sidled back into the car, and both Sark and Vaughn raced to the door to close it for her. Sark got there first, closed the door lightly and lifted his eyebrow nearly imperceptibly to Agent Vaughn as he stalked around to the other side of the car. He jauntily tossed open the door, slid into the black leather seat, and slammed the door shut. He turned up the Euro-Trash punk that was on the radio, and skidded out from under awning into the sultry Mediterranean night.