Chapter 4:
Looking through the smudged window at the endless expanse of ocean below it's hard not to imagine a small child on her first flight, pressing her hands against the window in awe of how small the world appears from so high up.
I must have appeared the same to Dixon on our first mission; not only because I'd never before flown over an ocean, but because I must have radiated pride and patriotism at knowing that I was helping my country. But somewhere in the midst of finding Danny in a cold, white bathtub dyed blood red; learning that my acts of patriotism only benefited a deceitful, hateful man; and spinning lie after lie to the people I love, my fascination with the crystal blue water faded. It's funny how before I found out the truth I never seemed to notice the smudges on the glass either...
"Something troubling you?" Sark's cool voice interrupts my thoughts, and I jump in suprise. There's no reason for me to respond to his question after such a telling reaction, and I'm more than just a little bothered at how on edge he makes me feel. It's an uneasy, unfamiliar feeling that isn't at all like being face to face with Sloane.
"I'll take that as a yes," he says with an odd smile, no doubt referring to the way I'd started just a moment before. Then he took my hand in his own and kissed it, "everyone gets nervous on their first fight, love."
Had he not been Anthony Parker, Melissa's wife, I would have snatched my hand away, shared a few choice words, and gone back to staring out the window- denying the shiver that went down my spine when his lips brushed my skin.
But as far as our cover was concerned that wasn't an option, and so I flash an embarrassed smile at him and didn't fight the color rising to my cheeks. It wasn't an overly difficult response considering the odd look his eyes had taken when he brought my hand to his lips, catching me off guard with a look of affection. Realizing my hand was still in his I pulled it away subtly and brought it back to the window, looking down at the ocean and sighing.
I didn't neccessarily have to be Sydney to get some answers.
"I just don't understand why you're dragging me on a business trip to Russia. You'll be in meetings the entire time, and I'll be sitting alone in a hotel room-"
Sark sighed, irritated by what I was trying to do. "My employer wants to meet you Melissa..." he paused, deciding on a choice of words, "you'll be with me more than you think."
"So, he knows I'm coming?"
"No, but he's wanted to meet you for some time now. I doubt he'll mind that you're with me."
A long silence passed before either of us spoke again. I felt some comfort in knowing that Sloane had no knowledge of this flight, but I still felt a sense of uneasiness deep in my stomach. What had Sloane done to cause Sark to turn away? And if I searched even further, there was still a lingering fear that this could all be an elaborate setup that would lead me right into the hands of the enemy. And the CIA would never know I was gone.
"You should get some sleep. It's a long flight, and it's going to be a busy day tomarrow," Sark said gently, in a way that made me feel that he didn't wish to startle me again.
I nodded, not believing that I'd ever fall asleep with so many thoughts clamouring for attention in my head, but I was more tired than I realized and within minutes fell into a restless sleep.
Looking through the smudged window at the endless expanse of ocean below it's hard not to imagine a small child on her first flight, pressing her hands against the window in awe of how small the world appears from so high up.
I must have appeared the same to Dixon on our first mission; not only because I'd never before flown over an ocean, but because I must have radiated pride and patriotism at knowing that I was helping my country. But somewhere in the midst of finding Danny in a cold, white bathtub dyed blood red; learning that my acts of patriotism only benefited a deceitful, hateful man; and spinning lie after lie to the people I love, my fascination with the crystal blue water faded. It's funny how before I found out the truth I never seemed to notice the smudges on the glass either...
"Something troubling you?" Sark's cool voice interrupts my thoughts, and I jump in suprise. There's no reason for me to respond to his question after such a telling reaction, and I'm more than just a little bothered at how on edge he makes me feel. It's an uneasy, unfamiliar feeling that isn't at all like being face to face with Sloane.
"I'll take that as a yes," he says with an odd smile, no doubt referring to the way I'd started just a moment before. Then he took my hand in his own and kissed it, "everyone gets nervous on their first fight, love."
Had he not been Anthony Parker, Melissa's wife, I would have snatched my hand away, shared a few choice words, and gone back to staring out the window- denying the shiver that went down my spine when his lips brushed my skin.
But as far as our cover was concerned that wasn't an option, and so I flash an embarrassed smile at him and didn't fight the color rising to my cheeks. It wasn't an overly difficult response considering the odd look his eyes had taken when he brought my hand to his lips, catching me off guard with a look of affection. Realizing my hand was still in his I pulled it away subtly and brought it back to the window, looking down at the ocean and sighing.
I didn't neccessarily have to be Sydney to get some answers.
"I just don't understand why you're dragging me on a business trip to Russia. You'll be in meetings the entire time, and I'll be sitting alone in a hotel room-"
Sark sighed, irritated by what I was trying to do. "My employer wants to meet you Melissa..." he paused, deciding on a choice of words, "you'll be with me more than you think."
"So, he knows I'm coming?"
"No, but he's wanted to meet you for some time now. I doubt he'll mind that you're with me."
A long silence passed before either of us spoke again. I felt some comfort in knowing that Sloane had no knowledge of this flight, but I still felt a sense of uneasiness deep in my stomach. What had Sloane done to cause Sark to turn away? And if I searched even further, there was still a lingering fear that this could all be an elaborate setup that would lead me right into the hands of the enemy. And the CIA would never know I was gone.
"You should get some sleep. It's a long flight, and it's going to be a busy day tomarrow," Sark said gently, in a way that made me feel that he didn't wish to startle me again.
I nodded, not believing that I'd ever fall asleep with so many thoughts clamouring for attention in my head, but I was more tired than I realized and within minutes fell into a restless sleep.
