Chapter Seven: Sleeping With the Enemy

His lips touched her neck, and she giggled and twisted away, turning to face him, wrap her arms around him. "Sark," she laughed. "Not here." She didn't need the scene that would ensue if Jack walked in and caught them.

"I can't help it, Sydney," he responded, his voice low. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

"Mmm," she said, not resisting this time as he began kissing a trail down her neck. "I have a pretty good idea."

"Mommy?"

Sydney momentarily froze, gently pushing him away, though luckily, it was Emily, and not Jack. Her memory was shorter. She didn't look at Sydney like she was betraying Michael every time Sark so much as laid a hand on her.

Michael had been gone for a year now. Sydney had been letting Sark into her bed for six months.

Not Michael's bed-- no, as she'd told her mother she would, she and the children had moved something like a month after she had managed to drag her ass out of bed, into a sumptuous penthouse apartment in a building within walking distance of Organization headquarters. The house she'd shared with Michael had been all hardwood floors and green lawns and white picket fences. The new place was all marble and slate gray and glass. It suited her new self, she thought. Cold. Dark. Empty.

Except when Sark was inside of her, filling her. Adoring every inch of her flesh, her skin, her beautiful, soulless body. Without his urging, she didn't know if she ever would have been able to make the transition into the ruthless leader she'd become as of late.

She'd been good at what she did at the Organization before. She was better now. After all, it was all she had.

Except for Sark, who was so enmeshed in the Organization that it and he were practically one and the same.

And except for the children, the younger of the two who stood before her now, smiling.

"Emily," Sydney said, returning the little girl's smile. Emily was the one bit of sweetness and light left in her life, the one person in the world, perhaps, who loved her unconditionally. Sark and her mother would turn on her if she ever betrayed the Organization, and Jack…

She was fairly certain that Jack hated her now. Hated her for moving him from the home they'd shared with his father. Hated her for moving on.

"How was school today, my darling?" Sydney asked her daughter. Emily had recently started kindergarten; it was a little early to tell, but it looked like she would be every bit as brilliant as her older brother. The fact that she was also obedient and well-behaved would make her a tremendous asset to the Organization one day.

"It was good, Mommy," Emily said with an angelic smile, which she turned toward Sark then. "Are you going to have dinner with us?"

"If it's okay with you, sweetheart," Sark said charmingly, slipping an arm around Sydney's waist.

"It's okay," Emily said with a shrug.

"I'm not eating here," Jack announced, storming into the room with his backpack over his shoulder. "I'm going over to Alex's to do homework."

"Oh, no, you're not," Sydney told him coolly. "Your grandmother's coming over for dinner, and she's expecting to see you."

"I told him he could, Mrs. Vaughn," Mrs. Simmons said apologetically, appearing behind him. "I didn't expect you home so early and--"

"That wasn't your decision to make, Mrs. Simmons," Sydney interrupted, her voice icy. "And please tell Mrs. Patterson that Mr. Sark and my mother will be dining with us."

"Yes, Mrs. Vaughn," Mrs. Simmons said, hurrying back out of the room.

Jack dropped his backpack on the floor with a thud, glaring up at his mother. "If I don't do my homework with Alex, I won't do it at all," he threatened.

"Oh, yes, you will," Sydney responded, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "I'll stand over your shoulder after dinner and see that you do."

"No you won't," Jack said, fixing his glare on Sark. "You'll be too busy with him."

Sydney opened her mouth to answer, but she was interrupted by the sound of the ringing doorbell.

"That'll be your grandmother," Sydney said with a sigh. "Could you please let her in, Jack?"

"Fine," Jack grumbled, marching off toward the front door.

Sydney moved to sit on the leather sofa, rubbing her temples tiredly. Another headache. She'd never had as many headaches as she'd had in the last year. Sometimes she even allowed herself one of the lovely little pills her mother's doctor had prescribed more than a year ago, though more often she didn't. They made her rather incoherent and ineffectual, though they made her feel awfully nice.

A gentle hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she looked up at the other thing that made her feel awfully nice.

"Are you okay, my darling?" he whispered, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm fine, baby," she responded, smiling up at him. "Just-- would you mind getting me a drink?"

"Of course not, love," he said, moving toward the wet bar that rested in the corner of the room.

"Grandma!" Emily squealed as the woman entered the room, Jack at her side.

"Hello, angel," Irina said with a gentle smile. Her eyes came to rest on Sydney, who stood to greet her. "Sydney, darling. Are you feeling all right?"

"Just a little headache," Sydney responded, doing her best to return her smile. Her mother worried about her so much these days.

"Here you are, sweetheart," Sark said, kissing her cheek as he handed her the tumbler of scotch. "Hello, Irina."

"Hello, Sark," Irina said, a faintly disapproving smile flashing across her face.

"I'm going to go call Alex and tell him I can't come," Jack announced.

"Fine, Jack," Sydney said with a sigh. "Emily, why don't you go find that picture you drew to show your grandma, okay? The one with the butterfly?"

"Okay," Emily said, hurrying out of the room after her brother.

"Would you like a drink, Irina?" Sark asked.

"Yes, thank you, Sark," Irina responded. "Scotch. Sydney, why don't we sit down?"

Sydney obliged, returning to the leather couch.

"Jack was supposed to go somewhere with Alex?" Irina asked her.

"Just to his house, to do homework," Sydney replied. "I thought he should stay and have dinner with us."

"I understand he's been having trouble in school," Irina said, a concerned frown crossing her face.

"He is," Sydney confirmed with a sigh. "I've been called in to speak to the principal twice in the last week. They don't know what to do with him, Mom, and neither do I."

"He's been through a lot of changes lately, Sydney," Irina pointed out, shooting a meaningful glance at Sark.

"Mother, I--"

"Here you are, Irina," Sark interrupted, handing her the drink.

"Thank you," Irina responded with a cool smile. "Sydney, darling. Didn't you say you'd done some redecorating in the bedroom?"

Sydney looked at her mother quizzically for a moment before getting the hint. "The new curtains," she said finally. "Would you like to see them?"

"Yes, dear," Irina said, rising from the couch. "Do excuse us, Sark."

They had barely closed the bedroom door behind them before Irina hissed, "I don't trust him."

Sydney's eyes widened. "What? Mother--"

"I didn't want to say anything, because at first he seemed to be just what you needed," Irina said in a rush. "You took Michael's death so hard, and he helped you snap out of it, helped you--"

"You're the one who named him as the co-successor to your throne, Mother," Sydney interrupted, bewildered.

"I know I did, Sydney," Irina said with a sigh. "But I'm afraid that you've let him get too close, too fast. You were so vulnerable, and he took advantage of that."

Hot tears stung behind Sydney's eyes. "He cares about me, Mother."

Irina raised one eyebrow. "He cares about his standing in the Organization, Sydney," she responded coolly. "And he likes that you let him fuck you."

Sydney raised her hand to slap her mother across the face, but Irina caught her by the wrist. "Don't forget all I've done for you, Sydney," she said, her voice cold. "I very well could have imprisoned you for the way you tried to betray me a year ago, made your life into the worst kind of hell. Do you understand that?"

Sydney snatched her hand back from her mother's grasp, willing herself to keep her emotions under control. "I understand, Mother," she said, struggling to keep her voice even. "And I'm very grateful that you trusted me enough to give me control of the Organization." Except you didn't, she added silently. You asked that bastard Sark to keep an eye on me, to keep me under control, and now you hate that I've let him do exactly that. "But I'm going to have to ask you to stay the hell out of my personal life."

Irina let out a cold, mirthless little laugh. "You have no personal life, Sydney, and you never have. Everything you do affects the Organization, and that means that everything you do affects me."

"The Organization is more powerful than it's ever been," Sydney responded coolly. "Perhaps you're envious that it was my leadership that brought it to where it is today, and not yours."

Irina's eyes flared, and for a moment, Sydney was afraid that it might be her mother who slapped her, and not the other way around. "You self-important little bitch," Irina said instead. "I built this Organization up from the ground, you're in charge for a year, and you think you can take credit for its success?"

"Michael and I had a large part in running it for the last ten years," Sydney pointed out.

A flicker of a smile crossed Irina's face. "Yes. Michael," she said, cocking her head to one side. "I wonder," she said slowly. "What he would say if he could see you now?"

Sydney felt the tears spring to her eyes, but she did her best to ignore them. "Michael is dead."

Irina nodded. "Yes, he is," she said. "Why don't you ask your lover what he had to do with that?"

Sydney's eyes widened at the implication of the remark. What was she talking about? Michael had been killed by a trigger-happy CIA agent…hadn't he? "What are you talking about?"

Irina only laughed in response. "You really are a stupid girl," she said, everything in her voice, her body, the way she moved, screaming that she found her daughter completely and utterly disgusting.

"You're not even smart enough to know when you're sleeping with the enemy."