Author's Notes: Once again, shout out to all my awesome reviewers! Sorry for the week it took to update, but I hope that will make you even more excited to read it! Hope you enjoy the chapter, and please, any comments, suggestions, or ideas, please review!

Disclaimer: The characters of Alias are owned by J.J. Abrams and thousands of other people.





I sat on the plane, drink in hand, pondering if Sark was actually going to come or if SD-6 was going to send a replacement. We were, of course, flying separately, so I had no way of knowing if he had taken off. I had so many questions and knowing him, he wouldn't answer any of them.

I swallowed another chug of my tea and stared out the window for a second. First of all, why did Sark really call me to the park? I had a feeling we never made it that far, or rather, he was too chicken or distracted to tell me. Secondly, neither of us said anything after the kiss. I didn't want to know, really, but neither of us could ignore the fact that we actually had kissed.

My seat partner was a younger man, obviously on some type of business trip as well. He moved in his seat while sleeping, and I crouched over to the window closer. I glanced around, saw most of the people sleeping, considering it was dark in the sky where we were currently at. I hated long flights, especially ones that take me to Russia. I despised Russia with a passion, with the KGB and K-Directorate, it seemed I was here more than I wanted to be.

The flight attendant came by and picked up my empty glass and I tried to get comfortable. I twisted and turned, but finally got in a spot that soon enough, I was sound asleep.



When I woke, I glanced outside and was amazed to see it was bright out and definitely soon to landing time. I pulled my seat forward and noticed most of the cabin was up and getting ready for landing. For the first time, I was nervous, not about the mission, but about my partner on the mission. I actually hoped Sark was okay, mostly so I didn't have to go with one of SD-6's crappy back up agents.

I walked off the plane and proceeded to the somewhat makeshift baggage claim. I always say, don't expect too much, considering this is Russia. The worst was the fact that I fly to crappier airports than anyone else probably ever does, but hey, there's good frequent flyer miles.

When I reached the baggage claim, or the rack of luggage, I saw my bag and grabbed it. It wasn't too large, standard protocol, small, black, and didn't contain anything suspicious. I soon found my way out and onto the hotel.



I made my way into the hotel, nice for St. Petersburg. I woke purposely to the front desk and gave her my reservation information, speaking in my Russian that I just love, I mean, hate, to use.

"Here you are," the short lady behind the desk tells me in Russian.

"Thank you," I reply, but she stops me.

"Wait, this came for you," she informs me and hands me a manila envelop. Probably from Sloane, detailing the changes. I didn't bother opening it yet, but just made my way up the stairs to my room.





The key they gave me was obviously over used, but I finally got the door to open and I pushed my way through the small suite. It was nice, from what I could gain from the first glance. It had a bath to the left, a sitting room, and a bedroom off to the right. I put my bags down and walked over to the bedroom.

I flip on the lights and see Sark sitting upon my bed, which scares me for a second. I regain myself just in time to put on my "what the heck" look.

"Excuse me?" I ask him first.

"Nice to see you as well, Ms. Bristow," he cheerfully adds.

"Can I ask what you think you're doing?" I demand of him.

"As in?" he pipes.

"You, sitting on my bed, in my hotel room," I tell him, obviously pointing out the facts.

"Very good, I'm glad we're both on the same page," he says with his usual smirk.

"Now that I have you here, why did you call me to the park in the first place?" I ask of him, since the opportunity appeared and since I had pondered the whole subject the entire flight.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he tells me.

"What? You're not going to tell me now? But you were last night?" I say.

"It doesn't matter now," he says, trying to brush me off. He gets off the bed, obviously still in a little bit of pain, but comes over to me.

"How's you ankle?" I ask him very kindly.

"Fine," he says quickly.

"Good," I only add until the space between us gets smaller and the uncomfortable silence begins.

"Ms. Bristow," he begins to break the silence.

"No, wait," I say, interrupting him.

"What happened, happened, and we have a mission to complete, so I think temporarily, we must clear our mind to stay focused at our objective," he tells me, professionally.

"Oh, okay," I only reply.

"Well, I must be off, I'll be by around 8 to take you to the party," he says before swiftly walking out of the room.

I walk back into the living area and slink into one of the chairs. I glance over at a clock as it reads 4:38. I sigh for a second, knowing some of the answers to my questions. The man knew how to skirt around answers better than anyone in the business. Does that mean that he actually does like me or something? Scary thought, wasn't it? Or not really?

I opened the envelope from Sloane, which was information on where and when to meet Sark, etc, I found it practically useless. I threw it on a table and took a glass of ice water from the bucket.

I had room service, which I didn't exactly trust, bring up a salad for my light dinner. I downed it pretty fast and moved into getting ready for the party. I grabbed the items I needed out of my bag and headed towards the bathroom.



At 7:50, I headed down to the lobby, dress and all, and sat down in one of the hotel's nicer chairs in the lobby. I had all the items I needed on me and was just waiting for Sark to show up. In a few minutes, I glanced to see him outside and saw it was two minutes to eight. Way to be early, Sark. I waltzed out the hotel and jumped into the car with him.

As soon as I got settled in the van, I just started my pre-mission mantra. However, it seemed off, and the glares I was getting from Sark in the rear view mirror were not helping. Why did I feel like this mission was going to change everything?



~~Thanks for reading! Any comments, suggestions, ideas, please review!~~ Masquerade