Authors Notes: Did we all enjoy our handsome Sark on Sunday night? I sure
did! Thanks again for all the reviews and I hope you like this chapter-
kind of not as good as the others, but the next should be great!
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, all own to ABC and J.J. Abrams.
***Sydney POV***
I woke up and noticed the warmth emanating from the body lying next to mine. It appeared to me he hadn't woken up yet, so I decided to stay as I was until he woke. It gave me some time to think. This whole thing between Sark and I, how real was it? I wasn't too sure, which scared me the most. Part of me wanted it to be real. I needed something real in my life right now and if this is where it came from, I wouldn't honestly mind.
I heard a door open, it must be Marc, Sark's very nice butler. I didn't move from my position, just listened and observed. However, when the figure passed by, they came to sit down on the couch. I looked over and it certainly wasn't Marc, but her. My lovely, horrible, mother.
"I see you and Mr. Sark have become very good friends," she says.
All I can do is give her an evil stare back. I still couldn't believe she escaped from the CIA. When I was still there, we had gained some connections, but now, that just made me mad.
"I suppose," I can only reply.
I can feel Sark waking under me. I turn around to face him, mostly to ignore my mother.
"Hey," I say.
"Hello," he replies.
I mouth to him, "She's here, over there."
He sits up and I join him while we remain hand in hand.
"Well, good morning, Irena," he says.
"Looks like it's a good morning for you two," she remarks.
I look over at Sark and he gives me a sympathizing gaze. He squeezes my hand, mostly probably for support.
"Is there something you needed to talk to us about?" he smartly asks her.
"Oh, splendid, there is. I am going to have a welcoming back gala in Russia at the Palace and I am inviting you both," she says in an exciting voice.
I look over at Sark, he says, "We'll both be there. At the Palace, the one you had that lovely gathering last fall?"
"Yes, it is, now, I'm going to run along, I don't want to keep my two lovebirds in company," she says. I give her the dirtiest glare I can make and go back to placing my arm around Sark.
"That was rough," I say. "It took all the energy to not jump on her."
"Sydney, my love, patience, over time, you two will make amends. Just try to, okay?" he tells me.
"I know, I know. You know exactly what to tell me sometimes, don't you?" I tell him and give him a hug.
"I have to take care of some business, so if you would like to get dressed, Marc can get you some breakfast and then I'll send along Angela, the head of the disguise department and she'll be able to show you a dress or two for the gala, okay, my love?" he tells me.
"Sounds great," I reply. We kiss and he heads out to "work" I suppose. I wonder what he does when he's here? Probably analysis things and such. He is rather smart, that's for sure. I wonder if he's going to tell Irena about my hate towards her and she might kill me or something. That could be trouble, but I know Sark would protect me.
I had my delicious breakfast and was ready to go, as soon as the Angela person or whoever showed up. I heard a knock on the door and went over and a small, woman appeared.
"You, you're Ms. Bristow?" she nervously asks.
"That's right, but please, call me Sydney," I say.
"Okay, would you mind following me then, Sydney," she replies. I noticed she had a small Russian accent, so she must have been recruited from there.
"It's an honor to finally meet you, you know," she says while we're walking.
"Can I ask why?" I ask her, considering I found it weird for this small woman to know who I was.
"Well, I'm also Irena's personal clothing assistant, and she was rather excited when she found out about you looking into her, she wanted to be able to finally see you again," she informs me.
"Oh really?" I reply. That was interesting. My mother, I believe, was obsessed with me, but I think if I were to ask her about it, she wouldn't say so. That makes me all shutter inside. Ahh!
We reach the door and Angela opens it and lets me in. It has walls and closets of clothing and wigs and shoes and everything. It actually was bigger than the one at SD-6, which honestly didn't surprise me.
"Now, I understand you're looking for a dress for the Gala at the Palace?" she asks me.
"That's correct," I reply.
"Well, I'll take you over to our formal dresses section. We just got a few new ones, under Irena's insistence, so you might like them," she says. My question, did she get them knowing I might come here? Something I might have to ask Sark.
"Here they are," she points them out to me. I saw many of different kinds and sizes and it was all to much to handle.
"How about something that Mr. Sark would like?" I ask her.
"Well, actually, you're in luck, because I know for a fact he just adores this dress," she says as she pulls out a yellow dress. It was more of a light yellow and it was another halter-top dress, but this time it stopped at my knees and flared out there. It was actually very beautiful.
"I'll take it," I reply.
"Okay, let's pick out a wig and some shoes," she says.
"A wig?" I ask. Why do I need a wig?
"Irena has insisted you wear one, for safety procedures. We have an excellent selection over here," she says and points me to a rack of red wigs. I found one that was long and wavy and was a strawberry blonde color. It was perfect.
"And here's some shoes," she said and handed me a pair of adorable yellow sandals that were rather dressy.
"Sounds great, now, do I hold on to all of this, or will you?" I ask her. I need to know the low down of the situation.
"Oh, of course I do, and when we land in Russia we'll go to the Russian house to get ready," she informs me. The Russian house? I guess I'll just have to go with the flow here.
"Okay, then I guess we're done, right?" I ask.
"Yes, yes, I have to get your items ready, but the man at the door with escort you back to Mr. Sark's living area," she says. They all are so formal when discussing Sark, I found it rather funny actually.
I followed the "man at the door" back to Sark's place. This whole place fascinated me. It was underground, yet it must have to span a mile with all the stuff they have here. My mother and Sark definitely had it together. I wondered how they build it, but the true question on my mind is how my mother escaped the CIA. Maybe that would be the topic of conversation at one of our lovely dinners.
I had taken a shower and had settled down again to see what I could watch. I asked Marc how to operate the TV and ended up watching a few old James Bond movies Sark had lying around. I was cuddled up on the couch when I heard Sark come back. I got up and went over to the door and it wasn't Sark, but my lovely mother. Oh, great.
"Why, hello Sydney," she said in her lovely Russian tone.
"What a pleasure, isn't it?" I reply to her with a negative tone and look.
"I thought we could have a little chat," she says.
"Oh really?" I reply.
"Indeed," she says and leads me back into Sark's main room and heads over to the couch. I sit down on the opposite end after she declares her spot.
"Now what was this you wanted to talk about?" I ask.
"You and my wonderful Chief of Operations, Mr. Sark," she replies.
"Yes?" I only say.
"So, I understand you've grown into quite this lovely relationship," she begins.
"And yes?"
"What were your personal plans for the future? Stay here? Plan an escape that you would be unsuccessful in?" she continues.
"You know what? I trust Sark more than you and I'd rather not have this conversation with you of all people. I know what you want, you want me to stay and be your little princess in your organization and help you do more bad in the world, but I stop at the line," I say, and afterwards feel quite out of breath. That took a lot of energy and air.
"What's going on here?" I hear the lovely British accented man say from behind me. I get up and walk over to him.
"You know perfectly well what's going on here," I tell him.
"Irena, do you mind?" he tells her.
She gives Sark a look of death and exits the room.
"I just, every time she tries to talk to me, it's like she's trying to push you out," I say, in between a few sniffles.
"It's okay, my love," he says.
We go sit on the couch and I lie down. Sark starts stroking my hair and comforts me. I have a feeling this gala is going to be a lot harder than I thought.
~Like it! Tell me how much! I'm almost to 100 Reviews!!~ Masquerade
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be, all own to ABC and J.J. Abrams.
***Sydney POV***
I woke up and noticed the warmth emanating from the body lying next to mine. It appeared to me he hadn't woken up yet, so I decided to stay as I was until he woke. It gave me some time to think. This whole thing between Sark and I, how real was it? I wasn't too sure, which scared me the most. Part of me wanted it to be real. I needed something real in my life right now and if this is where it came from, I wouldn't honestly mind.
I heard a door open, it must be Marc, Sark's very nice butler. I didn't move from my position, just listened and observed. However, when the figure passed by, they came to sit down on the couch. I looked over and it certainly wasn't Marc, but her. My lovely, horrible, mother.
"I see you and Mr. Sark have become very good friends," she says.
All I can do is give her an evil stare back. I still couldn't believe she escaped from the CIA. When I was still there, we had gained some connections, but now, that just made me mad.
"I suppose," I can only reply.
I can feel Sark waking under me. I turn around to face him, mostly to ignore my mother.
"Hey," I say.
"Hello," he replies.
I mouth to him, "She's here, over there."
He sits up and I join him while we remain hand in hand.
"Well, good morning, Irena," he says.
"Looks like it's a good morning for you two," she remarks.
I look over at Sark and he gives me a sympathizing gaze. He squeezes my hand, mostly probably for support.
"Is there something you needed to talk to us about?" he smartly asks her.
"Oh, splendid, there is. I am going to have a welcoming back gala in Russia at the Palace and I am inviting you both," she says in an exciting voice.
I look over at Sark, he says, "We'll both be there. At the Palace, the one you had that lovely gathering last fall?"
"Yes, it is, now, I'm going to run along, I don't want to keep my two lovebirds in company," she says. I give her the dirtiest glare I can make and go back to placing my arm around Sark.
"That was rough," I say. "It took all the energy to not jump on her."
"Sydney, my love, patience, over time, you two will make amends. Just try to, okay?" he tells me.
"I know, I know. You know exactly what to tell me sometimes, don't you?" I tell him and give him a hug.
"I have to take care of some business, so if you would like to get dressed, Marc can get you some breakfast and then I'll send along Angela, the head of the disguise department and she'll be able to show you a dress or two for the gala, okay, my love?" he tells me.
"Sounds great," I reply. We kiss and he heads out to "work" I suppose. I wonder what he does when he's here? Probably analysis things and such. He is rather smart, that's for sure. I wonder if he's going to tell Irena about my hate towards her and she might kill me or something. That could be trouble, but I know Sark would protect me.
I had my delicious breakfast and was ready to go, as soon as the Angela person or whoever showed up. I heard a knock on the door and went over and a small, woman appeared.
"You, you're Ms. Bristow?" she nervously asks.
"That's right, but please, call me Sydney," I say.
"Okay, would you mind following me then, Sydney," she replies. I noticed she had a small Russian accent, so she must have been recruited from there.
"It's an honor to finally meet you, you know," she says while we're walking.
"Can I ask why?" I ask her, considering I found it weird for this small woman to know who I was.
"Well, I'm also Irena's personal clothing assistant, and she was rather excited when she found out about you looking into her, she wanted to be able to finally see you again," she informs me.
"Oh really?" I reply. That was interesting. My mother, I believe, was obsessed with me, but I think if I were to ask her about it, she wouldn't say so. That makes me all shutter inside. Ahh!
We reach the door and Angela opens it and lets me in. It has walls and closets of clothing and wigs and shoes and everything. It actually was bigger than the one at SD-6, which honestly didn't surprise me.
"Now, I understand you're looking for a dress for the Gala at the Palace?" she asks me.
"That's correct," I reply.
"Well, I'll take you over to our formal dresses section. We just got a few new ones, under Irena's insistence, so you might like them," she says. My question, did she get them knowing I might come here? Something I might have to ask Sark.
"Here they are," she points them out to me. I saw many of different kinds and sizes and it was all to much to handle.
"How about something that Mr. Sark would like?" I ask her.
"Well, actually, you're in luck, because I know for a fact he just adores this dress," she says as she pulls out a yellow dress. It was more of a light yellow and it was another halter-top dress, but this time it stopped at my knees and flared out there. It was actually very beautiful.
"I'll take it," I reply.
"Okay, let's pick out a wig and some shoes," she says.
"A wig?" I ask. Why do I need a wig?
"Irena has insisted you wear one, for safety procedures. We have an excellent selection over here," she says and points me to a rack of red wigs. I found one that was long and wavy and was a strawberry blonde color. It was perfect.
"And here's some shoes," she said and handed me a pair of adorable yellow sandals that were rather dressy.
"Sounds great, now, do I hold on to all of this, or will you?" I ask her. I need to know the low down of the situation.
"Oh, of course I do, and when we land in Russia we'll go to the Russian house to get ready," she informs me. The Russian house? I guess I'll just have to go with the flow here.
"Okay, then I guess we're done, right?" I ask.
"Yes, yes, I have to get your items ready, but the man at the door with escort you back to Mr. Sark's living area," she says. They all are so formal when discussing Sark, I found it rather funny actually.
I followed the "man at the door" back to Sark's place. This whole place fascinated me. It was underground, yet it must have to span a mile with all the stuff they have here. My mother and Sark definitely had it together. I wondered how they build it, but the true question on my mind is how my mother escaped the CIA. Maybe that would be the topic of conversation at one of our lovely dinners.
I had taken a shower and had settled down again to see what I could watch. I asked Marc how to operate the TV and ended up watching a few old James Bond movies Sark had lying around. I was cuddled up on the couch when I heard Sark come back. I got up and went over to the door and it wasn't Sark, but my lovely mother. Oh, great.
"Why, hello Sydney," she said in her lovely Russian tone.
"What a pleasure, isn't it?" I reply to her with a negative tone and look.
"I thought we could have a little chat," she says.
"Oh really?" I reply.
"Indeed," she says and leads me back into Sark's main room and heads over to the couch. I sit down on the opposite end after she declares her spot.
"Now what was this you wanted to talk about?" I ask.
"You and my wonderful Chief of Operations, Mr. Sark," she replies.
"Yes?" I only say.
"So, I understand you've grown into quite this lovely relationship," she begins.
"And yes?"
"What were your personal plans for the future? Stay here? Plan an escape that you would be unsuccessful in?" she continues.
"You know what? I trust Sark more than you and I'd rather not have this conversation with you of all people. I know what you want, you want me to stay and be your little princess in your organization and help you do more bad in the world, but I stop at the line," I say, and afterwards feel quite out of breath. That took a lot of energy and air.
"What's going on here?" I hear the lovely British accented man say from behind me. I get up and walk over to him.
"You know perfectly well what's going on here," I tell him.
"Irena, do you mind?" he tells her.
She gives Sark a look of death and exits the room.
"I just, every time she tries to talk to me, it's like she's trying to push you out," I say, in between a few sniffles.
"It's okay, my love," he says.
We go sit on the couch and I lie down. Sark starts stroking my hair and comforts me. I have a feeling this gala is going to be a lot harder than I thought.
~Like it! Tell me how much! I'm almost to 100 Reviews!!~ Masquerade