Chapter Five: The Kiss of Death

"You did marvelously, Mrs. Vaughn," Sark murmured in her ear as the rest of the Organization's higher-ranking employees filed out of the conference room. Sydney winced. When her mother was caring and encouraging, it seemed sweet; when Sark behaved the same way, it seemed out of place, strange. Almost sinister.

Nevertheless, she murmured a thank you, leaning back in her high-backed leather chair. She had just led her first meeting back at the Organization, and while it had gone reasonably well, the way everyone was tiptoeing around her made her want to scream. How could she hope to get back to normal when everyone was treating her as if she were made of glass?

"I could use a drink, Sark," she said, rubbing her temples tiredly. "Would you mind terribly--?"

"Of course not, darling." Sydney wished he wouldn't call her that, but with the way he was jumping at her every desire lately, she didn't feel like she could complain. She imagined his compliant attitude would end the minute they had their first disagreement. For as little interaction as she'd had with him in the last couple of years, she did recall that he had quite the stubborn streak, and that he hated to be second-guessed.

"Scotch?" he questioned from behind the mini-bar that rested in the corner of the room.

"Fine," she nodded. "Sark, darling--" Oh, shit, she was doing it, too. "I was wondering what you thought we should do about Banning."

"What do you mean, Sydney?" When Sark addressed her formally, she was Mrs. Vaughn; any other time, she was Sydney.

"Well," Sydney pointed out. "It was she who alerted Jack Bristow as to the location of our operation, she who made it possible for him to contact me." She, ultimately, who got Michael killed. Of course she didn't say the last part. Of course she didn't really believe it, not completely, anyway.

"Brooke let Irina know as soon as Bristow made contact with her, Sydney," Sark said, placing the drink in front of her. "You can't say the same, now, can you?"

Sydney looked up in surprise. It was the first time anyone had pointed out the errors she'd made; her mother seemed to believe that she'd suffered enough, learned her lesson. "Of course I've wondered a million times what would have happened if I'd gone to my mother the day my father contacted me with the offer," she murmured, rising from her seat to pace toward the window. She'd come to the same realization each time: had she done so, her father would be in the ground now, and not Michael. "I may have made mistakes, Sark. But it was Banning's carelessness that allowed my father to identify her as an employee of the Organization in the first place."

"Please, Sydney," Sark said derisively. He stood beside her, his own drink in hand. "You've had a vendetta against Banning ever since she tried to seduce your precious Michael."

Sydney's eyes flashed. She'd known Sark's good attitude couldn't last. "That happened more than ten years ago. Of course that's not what this is about."

"Of course it's not," Sark said, his voice low and taunting. He downed the rest of his drink and set it on the conference table behind them. "What makes you more angry, Sydney? That she would have dared try and take your sweetheart away from you? Or that she almost succeeded?"

Sydney's hand flew up to slap him across the face. It was a reflex action, one she hadn't necessarily intended. "Michael would never have touched that common piece of street trash," she hissed.

"Of course not, Sydney," Sark said, a condescending smirk playing over his face even as he rubbed the spot she had slapped. "Michael was a saint. I'm sure he'll become even more of one in your mind now that he's--"

"Just stop it!" Sydney screamed.

A moment of silence hung between them. Sydney gulped the liquid in her glass, willing herself to stop shaking.

"Fine, Sydney." Sark stepped behind her; he wasn't touching her, but his nearness to her made her feel as if he was. "Remember your marriage however you wish. But you weren't exactly innocent of outside flirtations, either, hmm?"

Sydney froze, unable to move even as he continued to whisper in her ear. "The truth is, regardless of Michael's attraction to Banning so many years ago, the man was very nearly a saint. He did good work at this organization, yes. But he hated it. The things he had to do each day made him positively ill."

Sydney felt tears spring to her eyes, but she didn't stop Sark from continuing. So far the man hadn't said one thing that was a lie. "You were never so good, and it scared you shitless," he said in her ear, voice low. "The idea that you could have so much more in common with your mother, with me, people you'd always claimed to despise, than with your husband, the man you'd promised to love for all eternity, absolutely terrified you."

Sydney felt a tear run down her cheek. Sark put his hands on her shoulders, turning her so she was facing him. She didn't resist as he lifted his hand to wipe away her tears. "Poor Sydney," he whispered, taking her empty glass and placing it on the table next to his. "You tried so hard to be good for your Michael, but you never really succeeded, did you? You enjoyed your work here a little too much, took too much pleasure in other people's pain."

Sydney continued to cry, silently. When Sark pulled her to him, slipping his arms around her comfortingly, she didn't stop him. She needed to cry, not for Michael now, but for the part of her that had died along with him. The last part of goodness in her, the part that had known the things she was doing in the Organization were terribly wrong and had despaired at the pleasure she had taken in doing them.

"Michael's gone now, Sydney," Sark crooned. "He loved you very much, and I know you loved him, too. But your desire to be good for him, your fear of making him unhappy, kept you from being the leader you could have been. The person who runs this organization needs to be ruthless." He kissed her cheek, and she closed her eyes, wishing this wasn't happening, but knowing it had to. She had to lose her soul if she was ever going to get over losing Michael, if she was going to continue as a leader of this organization. "Remorseless." His lips fell on her other cheek, kissing away the tears that had fallen there. "You can be those things, Sydney. The only question is, will you?" He kissed her once, gently, on the lips, and she gave him her answer.

"Yes."