As soon as he's out of earshot, she hisses at Sark, "What the hell do you think you're doing? I have no idea what my relationship was to Walker prior to my waking up in Hong Kong!"

"The relationship seems fairly clear to me, Sydney," Sark replies, "At least, it is to Walker. Perhaps we should give you some context prior to your disappearance," he has closed the distance between them and now raises his hand as though he might slap her, but instead caresses her cheek with the back of his hand. She shivers as his knuckles brush against her cheekbone, then her jaw line. "It's very simple. I'll provide you with a decoy of the biological agent to give to the Covenant, meanwhile you will transport the real one back to the CIA. When the Covenant discovers the goods aren't authentic, they will come after Mr. Walker as the leader of this team. Julia Thorne will conveniently no longer exist, and your demons will be exorcised."

"Why are you doing this," she whispers, not wanting to believe it could be this simple. "What's in this for you?"

He smiles devilishly as he cups her chin and says, "Why don't you just wait and see?" His blue eyes glitter as he leans down without closing his eyes and their lips meet. She is surprised, for some unknown reason, that his mouth is very warm. He doesn't even press against her, hardly. It is she who turns her head first and lets her tongue trace his lips, which he opens obligingly so that their tongues can meet, and she is unexpectedly pleased to notice that he tastes good—not like any one thing in particular, but just… not like Walker, and not the way she remembers Vaughn tasting.

Oh, god, why did he have to taste good? A million things are running through her mind, none of them independent enough to even discern one concrete thought from another, except that this feels good, really good, and she doesn't want him to stop. She puts her hand around the back of his neck, and runs her fingers through his prison-short hair at the base of his skull as she recalls the way it used to curl, boyishly, at his temples and his neck. Before two years passed.

His hand goes to her hip, and he gently holds her to him as his thumb strokes the front of her right hipbone. She breaks their kiss and looks up at him, her eyes wide and startled. He raises one eyebrow and his lips curl into a lazy half-smile as he notices that she's breathing a little hard.

"So, who's thirsty," Walker's voice trails off as he sees them standing practically nose-to-nose.

"I'd love a glass of Petruse," Sark turns from her abruptly. "Julia and I were just catching up where we left off."

"Huh," Walker grunts, and he won't meet her eyes as he pours a glass big enough to knock a rhino unconscious. "And where would that be? You said you've worked together before."

Sark peers at her, prevaricating his loss of memory, "Good question, what was the last job we did, Julia—"

"You mentioned Mexico," Walker says, swirling the Petruse, watching it form legs as it drains slowly back to the body of the wine in the bottom of the glass. "How long ago was that?"

"Oh, a few months ago," she covers, shaking her head. "I think my favorite job was Tokyo… back when I was still in executions." She tips her chin proudly up at Sark, remembering briefly the satisfaction she felt in thinking she had killed Sloane.

"You were…brilliant on that op," Sark concedes, and she breaks his penetrating blue gaze. "The poor chap hardly saw it coming."

"Who would that have been, if you don't mind my asking," Walker sidles closer to her.

"Someone who'd had it coming for a long time," Sark interjects before she has a chance to speak. "Julia is masterful at pretty much anything she undertakes."

"I'll drink to that," Walker snickers maniacally, and she is horrified as he lays on one her right in front of Sark. To her greater mortification, Sark continues watching as Walker sucks greedily at her mouth and squeezes her behind possessively.

"So, how did you meet Julia," Sark asks when Walker begins to pull away. "She never mentioned you before."

"Oh, me and Julia?" Walker doesn't take his eyes from her. "We go back about… oh, two years now, isn't that right, love?"

"Yep," she agrees, knowing this at least to be true.

"I see," Sark says, sipping his wine slowly. "Good that you've kept busy in the time I was taking a hiatus from the business."

"Sure," Walker leers at Sark, "Good for me that you freed up Julia for me."

She is aghast; would she have willingly slept with this man? Dear god. Maybe it was a good thing she couldn't remember what had happened.

"Indeed," Sark demures, but his eyes betray his curiosity. He is drinking his wine much faster than either of them. His long throat devours the wine in smooth, even gulps, and despite herself, she wonders what he might taste like now.

"So Simon," she ruffles her hand through his hair, "I think I need to settle some old business with Sark before our job."

Walker pouts for a second. "And what old business would that be?"

"If it concerned you, you would already know," she says, coy. She looks pointedly at Sark. "You ready?"

"I'm ready for anything," Sark smiles, and drains the last drops of wine from his glass.

"I'll be back tomorrow with my gear," she promises Walker, and she follows Sark out to his waiting car.