Chapter 5 -

"My dear," Dixon spoke in his best Jamaican accent, as he was guiding her into the gallery area. She allowed him to lead and immediately scanned the room upon entering.

With only a handful of people inside, browsing the decorated walls, and most of the security watching the door, they both figured it to be the best time they got this going – the shorter period of time in, the less chance of anyone remembering their faces. It was too bad this always had to happen so fast. The art appreciation course she loved so much always drove her to want to stay.

"Your ex-husband seemed awfully quiet on the way here," Dixon whispered to Sydney.

Having realized that fact within the first hour of flight, Sydney made light of it. "You'll never let me live that down will you?" The entire flight was filled with Sark's silence. Sydney didn't expect him to join in their personal conversation, but the fact he never made eye contact once with either one of them was awkward. Looking now at Dixon she contemplated maybe it was just awkward to her.

"Probably not," Dixon answered. "So what is the pen for?"

Sydney squeezed the Mont Blanc pen that Sark handed her before they went their separate ways. His words, 'In case you get in a jam, there's a small amount of pepper spray in the back of this.' She remembered almost laughing at the time, considering most professionals have had enough training to overcome such obstacles, knowing that she still took it anyway.

Still at a whisper, Sydney answered him. "In case of a jam, break pen."

Dixon nodded his head in understanding, "Ready?" Dixon cleared his throat after activating his communication device, an action that brought a voice through his earpiece.

"Got that," Sark speoke. Sydney did the same, bringing the same response. With Dixon on his way to keep security occupied, Sydney made her way to the roped off area. Easily passing, she continued her course and reached the end of the hall with two choices of direction.

"Okay, end of the hallway," Sydney spoke at a whisper.

Taking a moment, Sark responded curtly, "Right."

She followed his instructions until she heard him speak again. "After the second wall light, left."

Finding the point, Sydney took the left, moving at a slight jog. "Coming up on another hallway," she inquired, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. Hearing no response on the other end, she slowed down. Even after reaching the next crossroad, there was no answer. "Right or left?" She asked with a hint of impatience in her voice.

Her instincts were heightened, almost telling her to take a right, but Sark started her by replying, "Right, second door on the right."

"Thought I lost you there," Sydney halfway joked, use to the banter her and Dixon had between them.

His voice equally as cold as his demeanor all day, he ignored her. "Going radio silent until the meeting point. You're connected with Dixon if you need anything."

With no time to dwell on his coarseness, Sydney opened the door to the back-up server. In a matter of minutes she was finished with the SD-6 op and her assigned CIA counter op. As she left the secured area, she made voice contact with Dixon. "Two minutes."

Sneaking back in, completely unnoticed she spied Dixon speaking with security about the rare antique vase he'd been pretending to buy. Sydney placed her arm in his and spoke in Russian, "No, no. The color is completely off and it looks too old." With that, she purposely dragged him off to exit the building.

Following instructions to the tee, Sark had the large white van waiting for them two blocks up the street. When they both jumped in, Sark spoke, "I radioed ahead for the plane and was informed that maintenance found a problem with the engine. There are no other planes we can take without calling attention to our dealings, so we've been instructed to stay overnight."

"You're kidding me," Dixon said, mildly upset by the news.

Sark pulled from the curb. "I'm afraid not. Sloane himself called ahead and made reservations for us. Our plane leaves tomorrow at noon."

In the backseat, Sydney had the perfect view of Sark in the rearview mirror. She watched him until by instinct she assumed, he felt her eyes on him. Momentarily, he looked directly at her through the mirror, just long enough to send a chill through her. Something wasn't right, she could tell by the piercing stare. What was worse was that she had the gut feeling it had nothing to do with the op.

Thank God she was always prepared. Most overnight trips didn't require much, if any, luggage since the majority of time was in flight. In her years of this, she was now accustomed to bringing a carryon with a few essentials just in case something didn't go right – like tonight.

The twenty minutes spent in the shower helped her relax as she felt the steady stream of water beat against her bare back. In that time, she tried to clear her mind of all worry to no avail. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him. In particular his eyes, wide icy blues that sparkled with what she believed to be doubt, maybe a speck of anger.

Standing around her small, but quaint hotel room clad in only her bathrobe, Sydney re-hung the simple black dress, that she wore to the showing, back on the dry cleaner hanger, putting it away for now. Her thoughts were interrupted by a light knock on her door.

After securing her robe a bit tighter, she looked through the small hole, finding a casually dressed Sark. Hesitant to open the door, she finally cracked the door about a foot. Looking directly into his eyes, she kept her demeanor cool. "Yes?"

"I was stopping by to pick up my pen," Sark explained, with no show of emotion.

Partially disappointed, but hiding it well Sydney replied, "Your pen." Her comment sounded a little sarcastic.

He didn't respond, just stood outside her door, with his hands in the pockets of his khaki's. Sydney stepped back, opening the door as she headed toward the dresser. Just inside her formal clutch purse she located the pen. "This couldn't wait till tomorrow?"

"That's a six-hundred dollar pen," Sark answered, showing slight annoyance.

Sydney laughed as she handed it to him. "So money's of object to you all of a sudden." Making an obvious reference to the gift that he gave her.

"Money's always of object, but some things are necessities," he replied coldly, while finally taking the opportunity to look her up and down.

Feeling almost naked due to his undressing her, Sydney tried to end the conversation, "A necessity as long as it means getting what you want."

"Is that so wrong," he added nonchalantly, taking the pen from her as she handed it over. After a small pause, Sark turned to exit the room. But before exiting, he stopped again with his back still turned, starting with the first punch. "I hope you don't think by fucking me you'll get any of the information you desire."

"Excuse me," Sydney spoke just above her normal tone. Her voice was so bitter it caused him to turn around again.

Before she could, he continued, "I've been in this too long to allow my judgment to get clouded after a good lay."

"Do you realize what you're calling me?" Sydney scoffed at his low opinion of her.

Sark interjected before she kept going, "Do you realize what you look like? A lesser man might fall for your seduction Agent Bristow, but I'm not that one."

The obvious disgust in his voice, while attacking her character, hurt her more than he knew. For a moment she was silent, watching his passionate display from less than five feet away. He heard something when she was talking with her dad it was obvious to her now. There's nothing she could say, her life and the lives of many others could be in danger due to him.

"I hope you don't think by spending a week with me then buying me some ridiculously expensive necklace, that means you have an in with me, or have any idea who I am for that matter," Sydney angrily spat back.

Sark took a step closer to her, "You're making the assumption that I care Sydney." His voice was bitter from the heated confrontation, "Caring about someone takes trust."

"And you're so trustworthy. You almost killed one of my best friends if you recall," Sydney accused.

Sark paused a minute before responding, no anger lost in his tone, "Of all people you should know the avenues business takes you."

"Right," Sydney said sarcastically. "You mean like pretending to be the wife of someone that is cold, calculating and lacking any morals. You're right. Business can be a tough thing to handle." Sydney watched as he took a few steps closer to her, causing her to automatically move backward.

He stopped less than two feet away from her, his voice a bit more cooled, but the ice was still present in his words. "If I put in a little effort, I could have had you that last night in Buenos Aires."

"Don't be so sure of that, Sark," Sydney started. "I may have had you confused with the loving man that you had portrayed so well, but I would never let you take me."

Testing her, Sark took another step forward, driving her almost a foot away from the wall. He spoke as his hand moved up to her neck, his fingertips barely caressing her skin. "I beg to differ," his voice was a little softer now. "You would have fucked me and that scares the shit out of you. You're the type of woman that lets her feelings get in the way, aren't you?" Sydney cringed as he continued to place his hand on her bare neck. "I would have been so good Sydney. Probably the best you ever had."

His hand was intrusive, so she pushed it away. "Get the fuck away from me." Afraid to scream, due to Dixon staying next door, she tried to show her seriousness with her tone.

"I don't think you want that at all," Sark whispered as he inched closer to her. "That means you'll lose the opportunity to find out my motives for siding with SD-6."

As of late, this was not about business to Sydney. Of course she kept one eye out as a precaution, but her feelings were true, actually felt by her – not manufactured to gain insight. A few nights back she wouldn't have wanted him to get away from her, that's for sure. But he was different back then, softer, caring even. This side of him was what she'd heard about and feared. A side she didn't think she'd experience so soon. With a weak voice, she made her last effort to get him away. "Why are you doing this? Just get out." Her voice was so quiet and shaky it was a wonder that he even heard her.

She watched as his eyes changed, growing glassy, wet maybe. The change, she assumed, was from the now obvious look of fear and hurt on her face. Sydney gave up holding back the few tears that she purposely kept from falling, an action that drove him to speak with a hoarse voice.

"Sydney..."

His fingers quickly wiped the tears from her face, right before he cupped her face in his hand. Vigorously he lowered his mouth to cover hers. Filled with passion and many other emotions, Sydney was taken off guard by his roughness. She also found herself close to sobbing as his mouth played with hers, their tongues entangling as they searched for a deeper connection. Losing their balance, Sydney's body hit the wall, loud enough that it shook the thin structure.

Not missing a beat, Sark wrapped his fingers in her damp hair, just at the nape of her neck. In response, Sydney wrapped her arms around him and pulled his body to her. Through his thin pants, she could feel his manhood swelling to a more hardened state on her leg. Their exchange in full motion, becoming sloppy as their fervor escalates; they were both immediately frozen by the knock at her door.

"Sydney," Dixon called from outside, "everything okay?"

Swiftly recovering her breath she responded, "Everything's fine Dixon. I tripped over my boot, that's all."

No second thought was given to her answer. He took it for truth, "Just checking. Hey, I'm headed down to the restaurant, you still interested?"

She looked at Sark, who had dropped his hand from her hair, "Yeah. Why don't you head down and I'll join you in a few minutes."

The disturbance gone, they stood in silence only inches between them. She felt her heart pounding hard, deep in her chest. Snapping back into the moment, Sark took a few steps away from her. Looking as if he was at a loss for words, he finally spoke with a straight face, "I didn't want to."

Iced up from what had just transpired, Sydney couldn't speak to him. All she could do was watch as he walked out the door.