Valoriahn: Thanks for the comment! I like it. You're probably right, I'll bring that into the next couple of chapters. Thanks for reading!
Thanks everyone for the comments!
"Would you stop asking me about that?" Sydney exclaimed vehemently. "I agreed to talk to you but somehow you keep bringing the subject back to me and Vaughn, which is not something I want to discuss with you!"
"I was simply curious as to whether or not he is aware you are in fact, alive." Sark explained. "And I think I have been a perfect conversationalist for the most part."
"Well yes considering we have mostly been talking about your very uneventful time in CIA custody…" Sydney rolled her eyes.
"I was informing you of the lack of entertainment provided." Sark explained. "I was bored senseless."
"Yea, well, I guess we could work on being more accommodating for national terrorists…" Sydney sighed. "Can we talk about something else?"
"Yes of course. I believe I asked you a question about Agent Vaughn."
"We are not discussing this Sark!" Sydney insisted.
"Fine, no need to be so defensive." Sark held up his hands in surrender. "I suppose we should start simpler. Tell me Miss Bristow, what is your favorite color?"
Sydney stared hard at him for a minute trying to decide if he was joking or not. "Why are you always teasing me, Sark?"
"Sydney I am not teasing you in the least. I have a natural curiosity and you cannot hold it against me." Sark gave her a very slight smile.
He is teasing me. Sydney decided firmly in her mind. "Well if it's to take care of your curiosity then by all means…" She stood and started sorting through her luggage for the dress she planned on wearing that evening.
"Are you trying to ignore me again Sydney?" Sark stood and followed her over to the closet where Sydney was hanging her dress.
"Well, I've found it easiest to ignore people when they're being ridiculous."
"I'm not trying to be ridiculous Sydney!" Sark declared. "I am genuinely curious to know more about you. And if you are not willing to respond the important questions that I ask, I will simply have to settle for the casual sort that strangers typically ask one another." He folded his arms and watched her with intrigued admiration as she carefully unpacked her suitcase, setting out each item in its own place on the vanity table beside the wardrobe. "So, tell me Sydney, please, what is your favorite color?"
Sydney paused and glanced up at him. "Red." She announced finally. "My favorite color is red, are you happy?"
"Quite. Mine is blue if you are at all interested." Sark replied casually. "What is your favorite vacation spot?"
"Alright, it's not that I don't enjoy twenty questions, but really, I have to ask, why the hell do you care to know anything about me?" Sydney questioned. "I mean, these sort of things anyway."
Sark moved over to his own luggage to retrieve his suit for the evening. "Well, it's as I said before, all I know about you really is what I can find out through official documents. I know your name and your agent abilities, but I know nothing about you."
"Such as my list of favorite things?" Sydney scoffed. "I just find it hard to believe that someone like you'd be interested in my trivial particulars."
"On the contrary. I think I have made it clear that I am very interested. I am interested in you as my partner, obviously, but also a person." He paused, silently rebuking himself for how cheesy he was sounding. He cleared his throat and quickly continued. "You are a fascinating woman, Sydney Bristow."
Sydney was too stunned to reply. She had stopped unpacking and was now staring at Sark with her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide in bewilderment. When Sark realized that he had shocked her into silence he felt like applauding himself in victory, but he wisely refrained and instead returned to his own unpacking, momentarily turning his back on her.
"I…umm…I…I need to take a shower." Sydney instantly headed towards the bathroom, eager to put a solid door between herself and Sark.
"Take your time." Sark called after her. "Enjoy yourself." He grinned at the closed door and listened to the click of the lock. I've made Sydney Bristow speechless.
Sydney flipped the lock on the doorknob quickly and braced her shoulders against the door. What the hell is wrong with me? She buried her fingers in her thick hair and pulled them through the tangles. It's Julian Sark! He is a terrorist! A murderer! And an all around ass! She remember that she had told him she was taking a shower so she moved away from the door and quickly turned on the water. She waited a moment as the water grew hot and the steam clouded the air of the large bathroom. I shouldn't care what he thinks or what he says or what he does. He's just trying to screw with me and make me crazy! She shed her clothing and stepped into the shower. He doesn't really care at all about me. He is just…She let out a frustrated groan and felt hot tears burning in her eyes. Why is this happening to me? I just want to go home…
When she had finished with her shower and her contemplations, Sydney slipped into one of the provided terrycloth robes that hung on the wall beside the shower. I need to focus. She mentally prepared herself for leaving the privacy of the bathroom and rejoining Sark and his irritatingly friendly curiosity. He is a job. I am working with him to get this life over with. He is a means to an end and nothing else…
She pulled the robe more tightly about herself and exited the bathroom. She spotted Sark lounging on the bed with his hands folded across his stomach and his eyes only partly open. When he saw her, his eyes opened and a slow, slightly crooked grin spread across his full lips.
"Is this how all women look when they're not all dolled up?"
"Dolled up?" Sydney frowned. "What's wrong with how I look?" She self-consciously reached a hand up to her wet tangled hair. She retrieved her hairbrush from the dresser top and started working through her long hair.
"There's nothing wrong with how you look Sydney. I've simply never seen you without your complete attire." Sark let his eyes wander up and down her body freely.
Sydney pulled the robe tighter around her body and chucked the hairbrush hard at Sark, catching him in the stomach by surprise. He clutched at his stomach and sat up.
"Play nice!"
"Why should I?" Sydney rolled her eyes. "You never do."
"On the contrary," Sark stood slowly and moved towards her. "I am always the perfect gentleman." He leaned towards her and she backed away instinctively.
"Don't touch me!"
"I wasn't going to touch you Sydney. You should not be so nervous all the time." Sark moved back politely.
"I'm not nervous, I just don't trust you."
"You smell incredible." He complimented in a murmur.
Sydney's face screwed up in a disgusted frown and she slapped him automatically. "I have accepted that I have to work with you, and I have accepted that you might actually be helping me get my life back, but I do not have to accept you. When we must be around each other but are not in the field, it would be best for you to keep your distance."
Sark rubbed his burning cheek and shook his head. "You are determined to make this partnership as difficult as possible." He moved away from her and returned his attention to his laptop. "I suppose this means our conversation has ended."
"You're very perceptive." Sydney took her dress into the bathroom and shut the door. After affixing the belly to herself, Sydney slipped the silky dress over her head and reached around to zip up the back. Damn. Sydney gritted her teeth when she realized that she couldn't reach far enough to finish the zipper. I can do it…She grunted as she tried twisting her arms and her body, trying to reach, but without success. She slammed her fists down on the counter, finally giving up her useless attempt, and turned to the door to face the inevitable. She took a deep breath, opened the door, and reactively gasped. "Oh god…" She slapped a hand over her eyes quickly.
"Can't a bloke have a bit of privacy?" Sark snapped at her lightly, though he grinned slightly when he realized she was covering her eyes. Is she actually blushing? Sark enjoyed the idea of making Sydney embarrassed.
"I'm sorry Sark, I didn't mean to…" She hesitated. "Why are you getting dressed out here?"
"Because somebody won't give up her precious time in front of the mirror." Sark quickly pulled on his pants, covering up his boxers, and fastened the belt. "I'm decent now."
Sydney slowly uncovered her eyes. "Sark! God, would you put on a shirt?"
"Does my body intimidate you, Miss Bristow?" Sark asked cockily, leaving his upper body bare.
"Don't call me 'miss' and don't flatter yourself." She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. "You could prance around naked for all I care. You'd only be humiliating yourself."
Sark paused for a moment, trying to come up with some witty comeback but he couldn't think of anything. "We have thirty minutes. Try not to make us late for our dinner reservation."
I can't do it. Sydney clenched the inside of her lip, preparing herself for what she was about to ask. "Sark…"
"Yes?" Sark didn't look at her as he slipped into his white button down silk shirt.
"I need you to zip up my dress." Sydney spit out quickly.
He looked up at her quickly. "Excuse me?"
She sighed. "I can't reach the zipper."
"Oh?" Sark sauntered towards Sydney. "Are you sure that's what you really want from me?" He slid his hand down her back slowly.
"Don't touch me you son of a bitch!" She jumped away from him and turned around with her hand prepared to strike him again. But this time he was ready and caught her wrist before she had a chance to hit him.
"You are impossible!" Sark squeezed tightly and she winced, feeling that his grip would bruise her wrist.
"And you're a bastard!" She kicked him in the calf and he released her. She rubbed her wrist and narrowed her eyes into slits. "Let's just get this night over with so I can get the hell away from you." She turned her back to him and he finished zipping up her dress.