A/N: Smut ahead. Proceed with caution;x
Twenty-One
Rendezvous
Sydney sat up and gathered the towel so she could let it dry in the bathroom. She left her room and hoped that her cheeks weren't as red as she feared they were. After a quick foray into the bathroom, Sydney went to the kitchen to find her father at the table with another glass of milk. This time, though, his head was in the paper.
"Anything interesting?" she asked as she went to the refrigerator.
"Scott Peterson got convicted."
"Thank God," Sydney said, heaving a sigh of relief as she closed the door of the refrigerator after pulling out a can of soda.
"It's definitely about time," Jack agreed.
"Yeah, I mean, the evidence was there from the get-go," Sydney said, popping the top and taking a sip.
"He's getting the death penalty," Jack told her as he turned the page and took a drink of his milk.
"Good," Sydney said, "I'm glad." Jack nodded wordlessly. "Why did it take so long to convict him?"
"Peterson had good lawyers."
"Ah," Sydney mused, "but still—there was so much evidence from the beginning. I mean, who the hell goes fishing on Christmas Eve?"
Jack nodded and they fell into a comfortable silence. Finally, Jack asked, "Who did you call?"
Sydney felt her hands begin to tremble and she grasped the soda can with both. She considered telling him that it was none of his business, but she had no idea how much of the conversation he had heard, if any at all, or if he just knew her better than she thought. "I called Will," she said finally, focusing on a spiral of color on the soda can. "Why do you ask?"
"No reason," Jack said almost nonchalantly.
Sydney nodded and felt her stomach tighten. She twisted her wrist slightly so she could check the time without being blatantly obvious. She saw that it was after seven already and wondered where the time had gone. She stood up from the table and took a final drink of her soda. "Do you recycle aluminum cans?"
Jack pointed to a small recycle bin and Sydney peered around him to see it, then walked over and dropped the empty can into it. Sydney hooked her thumbs into the back pockets of her jeans and sighed.
"What?" Jack asked.
"N-nothing," Sydney said quickly, "I just—" She bit her lip. "I think I'm going to go for a drive. I don't know when I'll be back," she added as an afterthought.
Jack stood up and Sydney instinctively shrank back at his menacing presence. She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her father go to the counter in the kitchen and pick up a key. He walked back over to Sydney and held it out to her.
"Spare key to the apartment," he explained. "Hang onto it." With that, he sat back down and resumed his reading of the paper.
"Thanks," Sydney mumbled, and went to the door to retrieve her coat. She lingered at the door for a moment, her hand on the knob as she glanced over her shoulder. She considered saying a simple good-bye, but decided against it and left, softly closing the door behind her.
Sydney parked and got out of her car, drawing her coat around her. She slipped off her shoes and socks, balling up the latter and stuffing them into the former. She let the shoes dangle by their heels hooked on the tips of her fingers as she walked down to the sand.
She knew she was ridiculously early, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could be in her father's presence before she snapped. She loved him, obviously, but she could only stand to be around him for a limited time before the fact that they didn't have a true father-daughter relationship sunk in and made Sydney uneasy.
A strong sea breeze blew past and whipped Sydney's hair about, but she paid no attention to it as she slipped off her coat and lay it on the sand, then sat down upon it. She stretched her legs out in front of her, then leaned back, supporting herself with the heels of her hands. Another breeze strolled past, gently lifting her chestnut locks off her shoulders and letting the strands tango in mid-air.
Sydney sighed softly, her gaze focused on the seemingly endless expanse of ocean in front of her and the brilliant orange sun that was just beginning to sink down behind the horizon. She watched the waves of the orange-purple-navy blue tinted sea lap at the shore.
A strange feeling came over her. She realized that it seemed as if the waves tried to reach some unattainable destination every time they touched the shore. The smaller waves never got very far but the larger ones did. Even so, it seemed as if no matter how large the wave was, it would never reach any sort of goal—the sand was endless. There was nowhere for the waves to go and nothing for them to obtain. But still, they kept on. The fact that it was a simple force of nature causing the waves to be so insistent didn't matter. They still tried regardless of what was urging them on.
She shook her head in disbelief as a smile spread across her face. She was pondering the waves. She tried to pinpoint the exact moment she had gotten to this stage of pathetic.
Oh yeah, she thought, the smile fading from her face, but sarcasm creeping up on her, the day I joined SD-6.
She sat up, drawing her legs under her and resting her hands in her lap. She absently tucked a few strands of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. She looked at the sky and noticed that it was growing more violet by the instant. She gazed out at the horizon again, watching the sun sink lower and lower into oblivion. She began to ponder that as well. The sun would rise one day, complete its task of shedding light on the world, then set and allow the world to rest for some amount of hours before rising to the occasion again the next day.
For a limited time, the sun would seem to vanish, shrouding the world in darkness, acting as if there was no sun to begin with. Then it would rise up once again, streaming sunlight into the consciousness of human beings and would make its presence known.
Sloane, Sydney mused. Her logic needed no explanation.
Finally, the sun went down, and the sky was a gorgeous mixture of red-orange, violet, and cerulean blue. She looked at her watch and noticed that it was after eight. She unbuttoned the sheer white shirt she had thrown on over her tank top and folded it up, putting it behind her head as she lay back, her hands behind her head and resting on the shirt, and her legs stretched out with the heels of her feet digging into the warm sand.
She closed her eyes and sighed again, wondering if it was possible to be truly happy by simply lying on a beach watching a sunset. Just as she was about to surrender herself completely to sleep, a familiar voice awoke her.
"Evening, Sydney."
Sydney smiled, her eyes still closed. "You're early."
"So are you."
"I wasn't sure just how much longer I could stand to be with my father before I snapped," Sydney explained.
"Ah," Sark mused, setting down his own coat and sitting beside Sydney. "Are you sure it was even a good idea to take him up on his offer in the first place?"
Sydney grinned again, still keeping her eyes closed and finding something bizarrely comforting about it. "It wasn't an offer," she said with a sigh, "it was a demand."
Sark chuckled and reached a hand to Sydney's stomach, gently running his fingertips across the flat plane. Sydney shut her eyes tighter, drawing in the sensation more deeply through her other senses. She felt exhilaration course through her at the fact that as long as she kept her eyes closed, she was plunging herself into the unknown. Even though she knew that she was with Sark and it was Sark who was sending tingling feelings to her core each time his fingertips brushed her abdomen, there was still the idea that she couldn't actually see it happening.
She let out a soft moan and lifted her hips slightly as Sark moved closer to her. She felt his hand move farther and farther to the right side of the part of her stomach that was exposed by her tank top. She wasn't sure if he had noticed the scar when they had made love the night before, or if he had noticed, but didn't dare ask what it was from. She also didn't know if he had been told about the scar by those at the CIA who knew she had it.
Her body began to tremble a bit and she sat up suddenly, drawing her knees to her chest as Sark reluctantly moved his hand away. Sydney knew that Sark was wondering why she had done what she did and she really didn't want to explain her reasoning to him. On that note, though, she also wasn't in the mood to explain the scar or ponder with him exactly what might have been implanted in her stomach.
All she wanted to do was spend some time with Sark before he left on the mission to attempt to capture Sloane. She turned towards Sark and saw his mouth open as he began to form his question and quickly sealed his lips with hers, preventing unnecessary conversation. She pushed him down and climbed on top of him, hungrily devouring his mouth and neck. She was relieved that he didn't try to stop her or ask questions and she whipped off her top, exposing her bare breasts.
She settled down on top of him, her body pressed against his, stomach to stomach, chest to chest, as she unbuttoned his shirt. She sat up, straddling his legs, and used his unbuttoned shirt to pull him up with her. She pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, leaving him to do the rest as she planted feather kisses on his chest. Sark took off his shirt and tossed it aside, then gently lifted Sydney's head up and softly pressed his lips to hers. His index finger circled one of Sydney's taut nipples and she moaned into his mouth.
Sark saw his opportunity and he pressed Sydney down on his coat, their lips still touching as they both fumbled with the buttons and zippers on their pants. Once the pants were gone, Sydney sat up just enough to grasp the waistband of Sark's boxers with her fingers and slide them off his hips. Sark did the rest, discarding them on top of the other clothes. He sat on his knees between Sydney's legs as he took in the sight of Sydney's nearly fully naked form.
"You're amazing," he said breathlessly, leaning down to capture Sydney's lips. He moved to the side so he could pull off the last article of Sydney's clothing. He slipped two fingers into the elastic and slid the panties down slowly, his fingers purposely grazing her and making her hips rise up as she moaned.
Setting the last barrier aside, Sark moved between Sydney's legs again and she lifted herself up to him as he dove into her. She cried out and wrapped her arms around his neck to bring him down towards her as he started to move within her. Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him in even deeper and eliciting a groan from him.
Sark's teeth nipped at her rapid pulse and he sped up the pace, dragging a long moan out of Sydney that pleased Sark as his mouth traveled downward, nipping and sucking on Sydney's exposed flesh. Sydney shut her eyes, certain that she was seeing stars. She opened her eyes again, seeing the sky a mixture of violet and cerulean as night drew ever closer. She thought she spotted a star twinkling in the distance and her body began to tense as pleasure built up inside of her. Quickly, she thread her fingers through Sark's hair as she brought his mouth up to hers so she could stifle her scream.
Sark went over the edge when Sydney did and he buried his head in her shoulder as her fingers soothingly smoothed his hair. After a few minutes, Sark rolled onto his back and lay beside Sydney as they both looked up at the stars. The warm night air kept both of them from shivering and from quickly grabbing for their clothes. Sark flipped over onto his side, propping himself up with his elbow as he gently ran his fingers over Sydney's skin. Inevitably, his fingers found the scar on her stomach and Sydney gasped a bit. Sark seemed to ignore Sydney's reaction and bent his head down to lay feather kisses over the line of the scar.
Sydney watched him in awe the entire time, trying to figure out what he was thinking. She sighed a bit, surrendering to Sark's mouth as she folded her arms behind her head. She shivered slightly when she realized how much attention Sark was paying to the scar but wasn't asking her what it was from. She bit her lip and tried to fight the urge to sit up again, like she had earlier, preventing possible questions. She wasn't ready to repeat what had just happened between them, but she was sure she could think of something to take the focus off of the scar.
Instead, she decided to plunge into the issue head-on. "What are you doing?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
Sark looked up at her and saw that despite her relaxed position, she was obviously stressed about something. He traced the scar with his index finger as he looked into her eyes and noticed that she tried to hide a sudden intake of breath.
"How did you get this?" he asked.
Sydney sat up, moving away from him as she drew her knees to her chest. She thought about how the situation mirrored their first time together the night before, when she had found herself uncomfortable in having to explain her tears to him.
"I realized that I had it when I was in Hong Kong," she began, "and when I got home and had to be put through a series of tests and whatnot, it was discovered that something oval in shape had been implanted inside me." She stretched her legs out a bit and traced the scar with her fingers. "If it's pressed, it hurts." She glanced at Sark and saw that his eyes carried a look of worry and concern. "The only way to find out what it is requires me having my stomach sliced open so some doctor can poke and prod and see what it is."
Sark sat up and sat beside Sydney, his left shoulder brushing her right. He traced the scar again. "Are you going to have that done soon?"
Sydney shrugged. "I'm not exactly keen on the idea, but I guess I'll eventually have no choice."
After a long silence, Sark started to get up. He noticed the confused and hurt look in Sydney's eyes as he began to dress. "I have to get going. I was contacted just before I left to come here, and was told that our flight was actually moved up a couple of hours."
Sydney nodded slowly and began to dress as well. "Who all is going on the mission?"
"Myself, Agent Vaughn, and Agent Tippin."
Sydney's eyes widened. "'*Agent* Tippin'?"
Sark was buttoning his shirt when he turned towards Sydney. He returned the equally shocked look that was etched into her eyes. "He didn't tell you he was a field agent?"
"No!" Sydney burst out. "How the hell can he possibly be an agent? When did this happen?"
"About a year ago."
"A *year*?!" Sydney shouted in disbelief. "He's been a field agent for a *year*?!"
"In case it makes you feel any better," Sark began, straightening his collar, "Will is very good at what he does."
"I don't understand why he didn't tell me," Sydney said, a wave of hurt flooding over her.
"He was probably too busy trying to make sure you were able to adjust to everything, Sydney. Do you really think you would have leapt for joy had he ignored your feelings and went off on a tangent about how good of an agent he is?"
Sydney sighed, defeated. "Probably not," she admitted. "But still, he had plenty of time to at least casually mention it to me. Or at least tell me that he was a part of the mission."
"I wouldn't worry about it, Sydney," Sark said, tucking a few errant strands of Sydney's hair behind her ear and brushing her cheek with his thumb. "Besides, you can yell at him all you want for not telling you when he comes back."
A feeling of dread formed in the pit of Sydney's stomach at Sark's words—'when he comes back.' What if he doesn't? Sydney thought with a shudder. "I'm worried about him," she said, crossing her arms over her chest.
"Like I said, Sydney, he's good at what he does." Sark lifted her chin and looked into her wide dark amber eyes. "He'll be fine." He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers.
"Keep an eye on him for me," Sydney said when Sark pulled back.
Sark smiled. "Don't worry."
"Please," Sydney insisted, "just look out for him."
Sark nodded. "I will, Sydney. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand what he means to you." Sydney cracked up, remembering the conversation they had had on their date, and Sark grinned at her as he planted another kiss on her lips. "I'll see you in a few days."
"See you," Sydney said, before stealing one last kiss.
Sark started trudging along in the sand as he made his way to his car. Sydney followed suit soon after, picking up her coat from the ground and shaking off the grains of sand that had gathered on it, then putting it around her shoulders as she walked to her car.
A short time later, Sydney was parking her car and making the trip up to her father's apartment. A quick glance at her watch and she saw that it was half past nine. She fished around in her coat pocket for the key her father had given her and unlocked the door. She pushed it open and stepped in quietly, unsure of whether or not her father would be asleep at this hour.
She closed the door behind her, shedding her coat after slipping the house key back into one of the coat's pockets and discarding it on a hook by the door. She absently slid her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and looked around the semi-dark apartment. She was grateful for the lack of light as she was more than certain that the tell-tale glow one took on after being made love to was clearly evident in her eyes and on her skin.
She looked around the dark living room, then moved on to the kitchen where there was a small oven light on as her father stood over the stove cooking something.
"You're back," Jack stated simply, his back turned towards Sydney.
"Yeah," Sydney mumbled. She took her hands out of her pockets and crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you making?"
"Eggs."
"Oh." Sydney reached over to one of the chairs and gripped it, suddenly feeling her equilibrium go a bit off kilter. She pulled the chair out and sat down in it, fearing that if she simply said 'good night' to her father and went to her room that he would discover where she had been and what she had been doing—pun intended.
"Are you hungry?" Jack asked, turning towards Sydney with a small plate of scrambled eggs. Sydney shook her head and Jack shrugged, grabbing a fork from a drawer and bringing his plate to the table. He set both items down, then went to the refrigerator to pour himself a glass of milk.
"You drink a lot of milk," Sydney offered, making an attempt at casual conversation.
"Indeed I do," Jack responded flatly, putting the milk jug back into the refrigerator and walking back to the table, his glass of milk in tow. He sat down and began to eat and Sydney felt an involuntary shudder slice through her body. "Where did you go?" Jack asked, catching Sydney's gaze as he swallowed a bite of egg.
"Nowhere," Sydney said, much too fast, fixing a false smile on her face, then averting her gaze. She suddenly flirted with the idea of just telling her father that she and Sark were an item. She knew it was none of his business, but lying to him and being afraid of him finding out made her feel like a teenager who had been caught with her boyfriend.
"'Nowhere'?" Jack questioned.
Sydney tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear. "Actually, I uh—I went to the beach and just sat for a while."
"Hm."
Sydney seriously considered asking her father the meaning behind his 'hm' but decided against it and instead stood and announced that she was going to bed. Jack simply nodded as he took another bite of his dinner and Sydney walked to her room. She undressed quickly, then pulled her suitcase up and lay it on the bed as she searched for a pair of pajamas.
She had barely opened the zipper when a familiar beeping sound came from the outer pocket of the suitcase. Sydney's heart stopped for a moment, then she reached for something to write with as she began to memorize the message being emitted. She closed the flap of the suitcase and opened the small pocket in front where the box with her mother's earrings lay.
A/N: g Hee;) See ya next chapter;) As always, thanks for the reviews, and major hugs to Linz and AnnaSun.