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Six months earlier.
Sark grabbed Sydney's arm as she was walking to her car. She spun around and narrowed her eyes at him as she shrugged his hand off.
I need to talk to you, he whispered.
Sydney crossed her arms over her chest. So talk.
Not here.
Why not?
Sark sighed. Trust me.
Sydney frowned and looked down at the concrete floor of the parking garage. Let's meet somewhere.
Sark asked.
Sydney threw her arms up in exasperation. I don't know, pick a place!
It was your idea, Sark shot back.
Fuck it, Sydney muttered and went to open the driver's side door when Sark placed both hands on the car, trapping her. He looked into her eyes and saw the anger in them.
There's a park not far from here. I'm sure you've been there. There's a bench by a rather large willow tree, he told her. We'll meet there.
Sydney nodded, gazing into Sark's ice blue eyes. They stood there a moment longer before Sark finally nodded and went to his car.
Not more than fifteen minutes later, Sydney was striding up to the bench at which she and Sark had decided to meet.
He wasn't there.
She took a seat on the bench and wondered what it was that he wanted to talk to her about. She stared into space and squinted her eyes as she continued to think.
Her rumination was interrupted when Sark plunked himself down beside her. She sighed and leaned back against the bench. They sat in silence for a few moments before Sark spoke.
I don't want to waste your time here, so I'll just come out with it. He sighed briefly. I know you're a double-agent.
Sydney wasn't sure how to react. Should she pretend she had no clue what he was talking about? Or should she nod in concession? She chose the former.
I-I don't know what you're talking about, Sark, my loyalty lies with SD-6. She stared into his eyes, trying to convince him to believe her lie.
Sark shook his head. Don't play dumb, Ms. Bristow. I know what you're doing.
Sydney looked away for a moment and sighed a bit. Tell me exactly what you know.
You're a double-agent for the CIA working undercover at SD-6.
Sydney had to laugh. So what are you going to do? Rat me out to Sloane? What was the point of this conversation?
Sark frowned slightly at her. You want the truth?
Sydney smirked.
I want to help.
Sydney raised an eyebrow. Excuse me? What do you mean you want to
Just what I said, Sark told her. I want to do what you do.
Sydney shook her head, her mouth hanging open slightly as she tried to form the words she wanted to say. Th-there's no way they're going to let you work for them. You can't be trusted.
Ms. Bristow, I understand what you're saying, but we both—despise—working for Sloane. We both want to bring down SD-6. If I can do it while working under the CIA's umbrella, it would mean that much more to me, Sark said quietly.
Sydney turned her head to look at him and found his eyes staring into hers. She swallowed hard and sighed. What do you want me to do?
Whatever you would do for something like this, talk to your superiors, I suppose, set up a meeting. Sark shrugged a bit. I assure you I am not doing this to bring harm to you or to jeopardize what you're trying to do. I'm serious about this.
Sydney nodded slowly. I'll see what I can do. But if I'm not able to convince them—
Sark cut her off. If you can't, it's fine. But I really do want to help.
A small smile played on Sydney's lips. We need all the help we can get.
Sark smiled a bit and they sat there in silence.
I better be going, he said finally.
Sydney said with a nod.
I can't thank you enough for agreeing to do this, Sark told her, patting her knee.
Sydney considered slapping him, but decided against it and stood up. she said. I'll see you tomorrow.
Sark nodded and stood up as well. With a brief smile from both parties, they went their separate ways.