Chapter 4 – Soon
His cheek on fire – the imprint of her hand leaving in singed. He hurriedly stepped past her and stepped out of the parked van. How could they have been so careless? There was no need to be so obvious. His hand didn't need to linger, she could have applied the medicine to her face on her own. This was exactly what he feared would happen, and he didn't even want to think about how much Dixon had actually witnessed or worse what he would do.
All of these thoughts were whipping through his head after Dixon's interruption. The cold outside, rid his cheek of the heat, but the rest of his thoughts only whirled faster. Unfortunately, what took top priority was the phone call that had ended the awkward situation.
"Mr. Sark." Her voice was quiet, but filled with a high degree of disgust.
Sark moved farther away from the van, not saying a word until he knew for sure that he was out of earshot. With his silence, she continued. "It's been a long time."
"Irina," Sark felt safe with his distance now, "I'd like to say it's a pleasure, but we both know differently."
She chuckled insidiously, "We do? I surely wasn't aware of that. Before I went into hiding, we seemed to be on fine terms."
Sark averted his eyes to the van, noticing that Dixon was watching him through the rearview mirror. To keep the conversation under wraps, he completely turned away from his view. "Many things seemed fine my entire life, too." Sark's voice was cool, although inside his anger was increasing.
"Now, my boy. You of all people should know what can happen when you poke your nose where it doesn't belong." She taunted him with her playful tone.
"Interesting." Sark retorted in the same manner, playing her game. "You kept an immaculate account of my life. Yet you figured it wasn't any of my business."
Irina paused, recollecting her thoughts, and getting back to the matter at hand. "How much longer do you think you can pull this off?"
"Whatever do you mean, Irina?" Sark questioned, although he knew what she was referring to. "I've become an important asset to SD-6 and generally like my work there. Especially now, after our great success in Greenland, an op that I was given complete control of."
The moment of silence that followed his statement delighted him. If she wanted to test his wit, he'd show her that not much had changed in that aspect.
"You know that she's the only reason I allow you to live."
Her low blow stung, but Sark showed no sign of it. "I hardly think you're allowing me to live. With the hired help you have left, a prime example being the blokes we took care of at the warehouse, I'm sure that I'd have enough warning."
"Some things are better done yourself." The softness of her voice was unnerving.
Sark looked back at the van, knowing this needed to end soon. "But she's had so much loss already; Danny, Noah, and not to mention being rejected by the CIA handler I'm sure you were acquainted with. Another heartbreak for her, and who knows what extremes she might go to. It's tragic, really."
"Oh, I have a feeling that she won't be around you much longer. You're bound to fuck it up somehow, sooner or later. Sydney's never been one to be fond of secrets, you know. With all the lying she has to do daily, not to mention everything that her father and I put her through. I'm not sure if she'll want to keep another liar in her midst." Her tone gradually moved back to showing the same disgust that she had started with. "By the way, how is Arvin Sloane these days? Still alive I believe." Sark felt the pang of guilt in his gut. "What would your mother think?"
Although he was continuing to get heated over her words, he didn't react. "This war of words is quite tedious. What is it that you want?"
He could hear her smiling through the phone, knowing that she had gotten to him. "To let you know that I'm around. I'm always around." She sighed, now bored with the conversation. "Now, your party has been in that van waiting for you. I wouldn't keep them guessing too much longer."
Irina disconnected, immediately following her statement. Sark took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He looked back at his phone, realizing it was probably the way she had been keeping track of his whereabouts. Her phone calls were to track his signal. None of that mattered now. It could be fixed. What did matter was that she was right. He already knew that his life was on the line, but Irina reminded him of what else would be too, if he didn't do something about it.
Sark removed the SIM card from his phone and crushed it under his boot. He then placed his cell phone back in his pocket and began heading toward the van. He no longer was worried about what Dixon might've seen between him and Sydney. Based on his conversation with Irina, it seemed he had bigger issues to deal with.
When he opened the door to the van, Dixon eyed him curiously. He didn't even look at Sydney, but could feel the intensity of her stare from behind.
Oh, I have a feeling that she won't be around you much longer. You're bound to fuck it up somehow, sooner or later.
He watched her from behind as she read another novel. This was partially how they spent their time together. On the couch, with her back pressed against his chest – her reading a book, and him observing every twitch that she made while doing so. Often, they would have discussions on the material that she was reading, or exchange opinions on the author's style, but tonight he was unusually quiet.
She had been equally as quiet. Since she first entered his apartment tonight, her words had been few, only speaking what was necessary to keep things comfortable. Mildly concerned about it, he reclined a little bit more, and deeply exhaled.
His action drove her to speak. "So, what should I say to Dixon? He's going to ask me about it the next chance he gets."
He had almost forgotten about Dixon, since his thoughts had of course been elsewhere. Really, what information their partner had about them, was nothing compared to what was worrying him. "Whatever you'd like." Sark calmly replied. His brain was beginning to feel overworked, as he tried to decide what his next steps should be.
Sydney turned her head around to check his seriousness. "Are you sure?"
"Dixon cares a great deal for you. I doubt he would put your well being at risk over something so trivial." Sark brought his hand to his temple, massaging it.
She faced back around, and laid her head on his chest. "I suppose you're right. As long as we're in agreement."
Sark took her book from her grasp, and placed it on the coffee table, then softly wrapped his arms around her neck. "We are."
He leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. On most nights, they would sleep like this, usually with her falling asleep first. However, after this long day, he found that he might be the one to first drift off.
Before he could completely rest, Sydney spoke again. "If you ever need or just want to, you know… talk, we can." The nervousness she felt shook her voice.
Her words crushed him. He wanted to open up to her, tell her all about his mother, and the lies that they were both told so many years ago. How he was raised, starting in his early teen years, by the person who helped orchestrate all of those lies, and of course the man who murdered the one person that had ever truly cared for him.
He wanted to tell her that once he had found out the truth about it all, that he dreamt night after night about killing that man, but ever since he had reconnected with him, he found that the task was more difficult than he imagined it would be.
But he couldn't reveal any of that to her, not right now anyway.
His prolonged silence must have discouraged her slightly, as she continued. "I just wanted to offer, in case you didn't know already."
Sark kissed the back of her head, and as he spoke, her hair muffled his voice.
"Soon."
