A/N – Thanks pie for the beta! Thanks again for the reviews guys.

Chapter 7 –

When the late morning sun woke her up Saturday, tickling her tight, puffy face, she felt no better than the night before. The large knot in her stomach, a large bubble of guilt and loss, almost caused her to double over in pain. It also reminded her that she hadn't had anything to eat since lunch the day before. Even though her body was screaming for some food, the thought of eating made her even more nauseous.

A feeling of dread consumed her as she sat up in her bed. Neither Francie nor Will disturbed her last night. She fell asleep so quickly and soundly, that she didn't even hear Francie come home.

She listened carefully for any signs of morning life from outside her bedroom door. On Saturday mornings, her apartment was usually filled with the aroma of breakfast. Traditionally, on weekends that Sydney was at home, Francie would make a large spread. For the past year, all three of them would discuss the small things over a brunch, keeping tabs on the others lives. But today was different; no distinct scent, no noise.

Figuring the house was empty, Sydney wrapped herself in her robe, and quietly crept out of her room. Just as she suspected, there was no sign of either roommate. Feeling her emotions starting to take over again, she made her way to the kitchen to fix some coffee. Next to the coffee maker was a note in Francie's handwriting.

Hey Syd

Will whisked me away on a surprise trip for the weekend. No Saturday morning buffet for you. You'll survive I'm sure. From what he tells me, we might not be back until late Sunday, so don't wait up!

Love,

Francie

After pouring herself a large cup of coffee, Sydney walked outside to sit on her front porch. The cool air felt invigorating on her aching face. She didn't want to think about the real reason Will took Francie away for the weekend, or dwell on the death of Michael Vaughn. There would be many more days to be consumed with these thoughts.

She breathed in the crisp air, and found after a few minutes that her head was cleared. Although she knew the clarity wouldn't last long, she enjoyed the moment. 

The rest of the weekend seemed to drag by. With all of that time alone, she had the opportunity to do some soul searching. Most of her thoughts were centered on Sark, since he was a large part of the problem. She was tempted to just go to his house and voice her thoughts, but they hadn't made prior arrangements. She made it through the time alone, albeit with a total of five hours of sleep over the two-day period.

Although Sydney had ample time to create some sort of game plan that weekend, her conclusions were few. Things with Will were going to be more than difficult. She knew that they would have to keep up some appearances to satisfy Francie's lack of knowledge about the situation, but beyond that she wasn't sure if anything would ever return to normal.

Things with Sark needing to change was a given, and she vowed to bring it up the next time they were together. The effort she made recently to get him to open up to her was supposed to initiate a connection. But with the loss of one of her best friends, and the one sided compromises she decided that she had been making over the course of the year, he needed to let her know what place she held in his life. Better to cut ties now, than to continue and be devastated further at a later date.

Purposely, she kept all thoughts of Vaughn from her mind. 

Monday was no easier than the weekend. The day itself was uneventful, and mostly a blur. There was no pressing mission on the horizon, but that seemed to make things worse. Having nothing to do, gave her more time to dwell on her unhappiness.

Like normal, Sark dropped off a file with a blue sticky pad attached on her desk – the unspoken invitation to his house. But not like normal, she made no eye contact with him. Keeping her head down in her computer, she muttered a quiet 'thank you'. She noticed that Sark hesitated slightly, but quickly recovered so that nobody else saw. He went back to his desk, but throughout the rest of the day, she felt his eyes on her.

She barely remembered driving to his flat later that day. The route to his house was normally traveled on autopilot, but this time it seemed different. She didn't realize how badly she was traumatized, and how exhausted she was, until she was standing at Sark's front door, with no recollection of parking her car or ascending the staircase.

Her emotions were beginning to overwhelm her, but she still managed to dig in the hidden compartment of her purse, and then insert the lone key to his door that she retrieved from it. When she entered, some of her turmoil subsided. She hadn't realized the effect her long weekend alone had on her, until just then. Just knowing that he would be there was slightly reassuring, but she still reminded herself that she needed more.

A first glance of his place revealed no sign of him. She didn't seek him out either. After dropping her backpack on the chair at the breakfast bar, Sydney walked to the kitchen and a found a nearly full bottle of wine opened, sitting on the counter. Next to it was a wine glass, presumably for her. She was hesitant at first, not sure if she needed anything more to depress her, but decided that one glass and the escape it would bring might do her good.

Over an hour later, Sydney was on the couch. It had grown dark outside, which was fine with her. The only light in the room was the candle that she had lit in front of her. She didn't entertain herself with anything except the crimson liquid that Sark had left her. The bottle of wine that she had originally only wanted to taste was now almost empty. Although she should have been concerned that Sark still hadn't shown up, her inebriated state threw all of her worries out the door.

Another hour, a now completely empty bottle, and finally she heard the click of the lock. By then, any nervousness she felt in his absence had transformed into anger. That, combined with the alcohol, made for a livid Sydney.

When Sark entered the darkened room, she heard a slight hesitation in his step. Quietly, he locked the door, assuming that she was asleep. After a few moments, Sydney watched as he entered the living room area, stopping at the couch.

Her voice made her words sound coarse. "Was it necessary to keep me waiting by myself for so long?"

Sark carefully eyed her, attempting to assess her mood. After glancing at the empty bottle on the table, he chose his words. "I had a few things to take care of. I apologize."

Sydney chuckled at his response. A few things to take care of could mean so much in Sark's world. A few people to maim or blackmail. Surely not the "normal" few things one does after work, such as light shopping, or a good workout.

"Right." Her tone was completely cynical. "Another five minutes and I was going to leave."

He looked at her, unfazed by what she was saying. "I hope you'd have more sense than to drive after drinking an entire bottle of wine."

Sydney set her glass on the table in front of her, almost knocking it over in the process. When she sat up, she felt completely lightheaded. "Well we -- I mean I, could just add that to the list of 'what the hell was I thinking'." She brought her hands to her temples, softly massaging them.

Sark took a seat on the chair next to the couch, and after close to a minute of silence he spoke. "Did you want to talk about it?"

She laughed again, while shaking her head in disbelief. "What, so I can continue to open up to you and receive nothing in return?" When she met his eye, she saw something flash in them. Her words, and her curt tone, were indeed getting to him. "Out of all the people that I know, you should be fully aware of the vulnerability that is exposed when a person places all of their cards on the table."

"Sydney," Sark sighed, "I'm trying to keep you out of that part of my life." His lips tighten, feeling the need to not elaborate.

"That's the thing, it's part of your life." Sydney couldn't hold in the few tears that fell down her face. "I'm supposed to keep sharing all aspects of my life with you, exclusively be romantically involved with you, even share your bed…" Her voice trailed off so she could regain control. "But when it comes to the slightest reciprocation, it's all off limits. Did you ever once think that I could maybe help? I'm not some flower that needs to be handled delicately."

"I know that it seems unfair…"

Sydney angrily wiped the tears from her face as she stood. "Please, spare me the ending to that sentence." Her eyes sparked with resentment. "You want to talk about unfair? Unfair is the way that you keep me at arms length. Unfair is the fact that every person I love ends up getting hurt, or worse. Unfair is losing one of my best friends due him finding out that I'm involved with the man that had a hand in torturing him." Her sobbing worsened with each word that came out. Trying to avoid some embarrassment, she began to walk toward the door. "Actually, what you're doing to me isn't unfair. It's cold and calculating."

After grabbing her backpack from the chair, she turned to go to the door, but was startled as she came face to face with Sark. The concern in his eyes was evident, but she didn't care. Her drunken anger took over her body, making her decisions for her.

"Move."

Sark didn't bat an eye, nor did he do as she directed. With her eyes, she silently challenged him. When she moved right, he followed her. Same when she moved back the other way. Sydney brought her hands to his chest to push him out of the way. He stopped her by grabbing her wrists, holding her hands tightly to his chest.

The look in his eye somewhat worried her. He wasn't going to let her leave. She expected a struggle after she ripped her hands from his grip. Instead, he tried his best at consoling her. "I heard about Michael Vaughn." His mood changed instantly. His voice was soft, as was his hand when he placed it on her cheek. "I'm sorry." He used his thumb to wipe away the continuous stream of tears that fell.

Sydney didn't hold back her emotions any longer. All of the frustration she felt was beginning to subside. His touch seemed to be easing some of her pain. "He wanted me to be happy, so he never told anyone that he knew about you. What we're doing was against everything on all sides, and he knew that, but kept his promise to me regardless."

Sark pulled her in to him, running his fingers through her hair. Softly, he kissed the top of her head, and let her cry.

"He was such a good man." She stammered in between her sobs. Sark continually stroked her hair with his hand, and pulled her even tighter against his body.

"I'm sorry, Sydney." He quietly murmured in her hair.

That night, Sydney used him as her pillar of strength. She didn't ask any more questions, even though she still needed the answers. The urgency that she felt to find those answers was put on the backburner, as mourning her loss and finding a way to repair her broken friendship were pushed forward.