Month 13 – A Cat Named Fish

The ride is long and bumpy but the sun is shining bright along the dirt road. We've been driving for over an hour before I see a large construction complex hiding between the trees. The driver pulls the car up to the main building and stops the car. Before I have gathered my purse and small carry-on baggage, the driver has already opened the door for me.

"Right this way, señorita. Mr. Sark is expecting you."

I nod to him as he turns and leads me into the building. I follow him through a few corridors before we reach a large office.

The driver knocks on the door.

Sark throws open his door, as if he's in a hurry, but stops when he meets my eyes. He looks back to the driver and suddenly, as if remembering what had him in a hurry in the first place, turns to him. "Thanks Iago. Listen there's been a minor cave-in in Section D. Santos is there now but he can't get the hydraulics to work. Can you go have a look?"

Iago nods and quickly leaves, like he is used to this sort of thing. Sark motions me into his office and shuts the door.

I sit down and watch Sark as he walks around his desk and sits down as well. His movements are efficient and confident, and I realize that I could never tire looking at him. He's everything that I admire. He looks up at me and smiles.

His smile is sincere, but his eyes look very worn out.

"So this is what you've been doing for the last year?" I ask him playfully.

He rolls his eyes at me. "Yes, looking for the fabled Last Rambaldi Device. Believe me, if I never hear of this bloody kook again, it will be too soon. Did Sloane brief you on the mission he wants you to accomplish?"

This time it is my turn to roll my eyes, but I do so without any humor. "What right does that bastard have, to prostitute me to whomever he wants to, so that he can chase down a five hundred year old map?"

Sark looks at me with understanding. "I know. I was less than thrilled when I received the details of your assignment as well, but it gets worse." He rubs his forehead with his hand. "Sloane wanted you to come down here and charm a man named Emilio Lopez. As I am sure he told you, Mr. Lopez inherited the stretch of land that this mine is on from his grandfather. It has been in their family for generations. Well, according to an Italian document that Mr. Sloane acquired last year, Rambaldi was working on his greatest invention shortly before his death. But nobody seems to know where this invention was stored. His followers were able to hide his smaller works, but his last one is fabled at being over six feet tall. So far, the only information that we have been able to turn up, is that one of his followers, a young boy, ran away to Spain shortly after his death. From there, he boarded a ship to Argentina and came here. Apparently he was carrying the only map in existence that showed where Rambaldi's last device was stored. But he took it as his mission in life, and bound all his descendants to it as well, to hide this map and guard it with their lives. Mr. Lopez is one of his last decedents. So, easy as pie, right? Sloane wants you to bat your eyelashes and find out where in these mines, that map is hidden."

I nod in affirmation.

Sark leans back in his chair. "Well, what you don't know is that for the last year, ever since the location of the map was traced to here, there has been a major power-play going on in the Alliance."

"My father hinted that something strange was going on. But he didn't have many details."

Sark shakes his head in disgust. "Obviously Sloane wants this device to tip the balance of power within the Alliance. But the other members of the Alliance have started to stake their claim in the matter as well. Last week, Mr. Dale Brauer, the head of SD-5, turned up here, to 'help me'. Yesterday, a top level agent from SD-9 arrived. Things are getting tense down here."

"But I'm not supposed to know that SD-6 is part of the Alliance. How is Sloane going to explain it to me, if I report that I recognize a member of the Alliance here?"

"Well, the Alliance knows that, and I think that's what they are counting on. Sloane wants you here to force them into hiding, but if the stakes get high enough, I don't think they are going to care about exposing SD-6 to you. For them, you are expendable."

"Great. Nothing like making a bad situation worse."

Sark nods in understanding. "Can I ask you what your counter-mission is?"

I sigh. "Well originally I was supposed to report back any intel that I received from Mr. Lopez. But I know the CIA. If members of the Alliance are here, they are going to want IDs."

He nods again. "Very well. I can help you with that, if you want. There is supposed to be a gala tonight at one of the villas in town. You can come as my date. There are no well known members of the Alliance here yet, so it should be relatively safe. I can indicate to you any members that are there and if Mr. Lopez is there tonight, you can make initial contact with him as well."

I nod to accept his idea.

"Do you have a discrete camera?"

This time I have to shake my head. "I had to travel light. But I can meet Vaughn beforehand and get any op-tech that I need."

Sark snorts quietly to himself but he doesn't comment directly on the fact that Vaughn is here as well. "Fine. You have a reservation at the hotel?" I nod. "Let me arrange some transportation for you. I will pick you up at eight."

…

The villa is lit up elegantly as Sark pulls up his convertible to the front of the round driveway. A valet attendant opens my door, and I watch as Sark hands over his keys to another attendant before coming over to my side. He offers me his right arm, so I lay my left hand gently upon it. I notice that we complement each other well this evening. I wore a black dress, cut in a Spanish fashion with red trim. He is wearing a black jacket with a black shirt open underneath. He waves at someone near the door and I look around. There is a crowd of people milling about in the house. Sark leads me through the house and into the back yard which is also brightly lit. Latin music is playing in the background. I estimate that there are over two hundred people at this party.

Sark greets several more people as we make our way around, scouting out the territory. He casually lowers his arm and takes my hand as he prepares to give me the signals that we worked out in advance. If he sees a member of the Alliance that I don't recognize, he will squeeze my hand. If I see one that I do recognize, I will squeeze his. And then of course I will try and leave before they realize that I have recognized them. Sometimes it's just easier to go with a simple plan.

I fiddle with the large, chunky ring on my right hand, which is actually a camera, and I turn it slightly so that it is positioned at a better angle.

Sark squeezes my hand. I look up at him and see him looking at a short, older, non-descript man. "That's Mr. Brauer," he whispers in my ear as he pretends to give me a caress. I lift my hand up to brush some hair out of my face and snap his picture. Sark helps me by tucking the hair behind my ear.

Easy as pie.

We mingle for half an hour or so, Sark pointing out three other operatives of various SD cells. We even indulge in a tango as we make our way across the room.

As I am sipping a drink while standing at the side of the dance floor, I suddenly feel a large amount of pressure on my hand. I look over quickly at Sark who is looking at a large, heavy set man that just walked in. The band has just started an upbeat song, and Sark quickly whirls me onto the dance floor. I hardly have time to deposit my drink on the table.

He brings me in close. "Who is that man?" I whisper as I take his picture while running my hands through Sark's hair.

Sark whirls me around again before leaning his head into the crook of my neck. "That's Jonathan Richter," he whispers into my ear. He spins me around and then closes me in tight again. "He's the Director of Operations for MI-6."

"What is he doing here?"

Sark shrugs and then leans in again. "Well that's Kona standing next to him and he's a high level operative in SD-9. They are talking quite amiably together."

I look back over at the two men talking as Sark twirls me around once more. "What does that mean?"

Sark squeezes his lips together. "Sloane told me that the Alliance had finally replaced Edward Poole. My guess is that Richer is now a member of the Alliance."

I look around in fear. "Are you in danger?"

He shakes his head. "No, as I said, only my handlers know who I am, for this very type of contingency, but I'm positive he reads the intel that I provide."

"Won't he tell the Alliance that they have a mole?"

Sark holds me tightly. "I don't think so. Not if he can use that intel to further himself."

As we move back across the dance floor though, my eyes rest upon a tall, dark haired man. And this time it is my turn to squeeze Sark's hand. This party has suddenly gotten very dangerous.

"We have to get out of here!" I hiss quietly and Sark quickly takes my lead without asking me any questions. He whirls me around until we are at the edge of the dance floor. As we break apart, I show him with my eyes the man that I am talking about. But as luck would have it, the dark-haired man catches my eyes. It is obvious that he knows who I am, and he knows that I know who he is.

It's Sonny Henderson, the man that Sloane asked me to investigate seven months ago under the ruse of trying to gather intel on the Alliance.

I don't know if Sark catches this silent exchange, but before I know it, he is pulling me back into the house through an incredibly large crowd of people.

I glance back quickly, and I see Henderson cutting across the dance floor, trying to follow us. I move quicker and Sark takes my hint. As we make our way towards the front door though, Sark suddenly pulls me back. "He has someone at the front entrance. Come on. Let's head for the roof top!"

We turn down the main hall and I see a set of stairs leading up. Sark races up ahead of me to check the area, but I am close behind him. When I reach the landing half-way up the stairs though, I hear my name.

"Syd!"

I look back and see Vaughn at the bottom of the stairs, gesturing frantically. "Come on! This way!" He knows I've been spotted. I gave him the intel about Henderson last year.

I turn and look back up the stairs at Sark waiting at the top.

So this is it. This is the time for my big decision?

I look down at Vaughn again. Though there was a time when I would have thought that I would have run to him, that time has long past. The decision that I have to make really has nothing to do with him.

It has to do with me.

"Syd! Come on!" Vaughn calls to me.

I turn back to Sark. He extends his hand to me. The truth of the matter is though, that I've been making my decision for the last year. I turn back to Vaughn. "Here!" I shout at him as I rip the ring off my finger and throw it into the air. He catches it but he still doesn't understand. "I have to go with Sark. I will meet you back in LA."

I don't wait for his response as I turn around and race up the stairs. I take Sark's hand, and he pulls me up the last few steps. Together we turn and race down the hallway. At the end of the hallway is a trap door that we use to get up on the roof.

The villa is relatively spacious and the far side of the roof extends all the way to the small forest that surrounds the grounds. Sark leads me towards that edge at full speed.

We jump into the flower bed underneath the far side of the house and make a break for the trees.

As we're about to enter the tree line, I glance over my shoulder. Henderson is pulling himself up through the trap door, and I can see him silhouetted against the sky. Sark pulls me forward again. As we dart into the trees, I hear bullets firing around us. Sark removes the pistol from the back of his pants and fires a return shot. I hear a shot ricochet close by, followed closely by Sark cursing as he drops his weapon.

I half turn around and see that the agent has jumped off the roof and is pursuing us. I pull Sark along, forcing him to forgo his weapon and hoping that the trees will provide enough cover to escape.

But I am tripping in my heels. By the time I turn back again, Henderson is within feet of us. Holding his weapon straight at us.

We stop.

We're caught.

The man pulls out his cell phone.

Sark doubles over to catch his breath. Before anyone knows what is happening Sark has reached for his ankle and with one swift movement, sent a dagger flying right for the agent's throat.

Before I see the cell phone hit the floor, Sark has pulled me forward again and we race into the bush.

…

It takes us a little while to reach his apartment, and I can tell that dawn is just a few hours away. There are no people milling about, so at least we don't have to worry about explaining our ruined evening attire or the fact that we are approaching quickly on foot.

He leads the way as we climb the few stairs to his floor, and I lean against the wall as he unlocks his front door. I stumble inside, exhausted.

He fumbles for the light switch as I remove my heels. My feet are killing me.

I look over at Sark as he throws his jacket off and turns around. And I can see a deep red stain along the side of his arm.

"You've been shot!"

He looks at his sleeve and shakes his head. "It's just a flesh wound. The running just aggravated it." He goes over to his notebook computer and turns it on. It takes a few seconds to boot up, but as soon as it does, Sark wastes no time in encoding a message. His computer is hooked up to a small box and after pressing a button Sark removes a small cassette from the box. It looks like the cassette is half the size of his fingernail. Sark then starts making kissing noises and looking around at his feet.

I can't help but stare at him. "What are you doing?"

He looks under the small coffee table in his living room. Finally a small calico cat runs up to him and starts winding itself through his legs.

"I was calling Fish."

There's a moment of silence as I watch Sark pick up the cat and put him on the coffee table.

"You have a cat named Fish?"

Sark smiles a tight smile at me. "Yeah." He scratches the cat behind his ears. "It was James' idea of a joke; he thought it would be hilarious for a terrorist to own a cat. I retaliated by naming him Fish. Now my cat has an alias as well."

I shake my head. I'm suffering from input overload and I never could completely understand British humor. "What are you doing with a cat here?"

Sark unbuckles the cat's collar. "When it became obvious that I had to move down here for an extended period of time, I brought him over with me. Damn thing sheds worse than a dog, but at least he earns his keep." While he is talking Sark clips the micro-cassette into the collar and relatches it onto the cat. The cat starts purring as Sark rubs his head some more. Finally, Sark holds the cat's face and speaks directly at him. "Ok Fish. Go to Marissa. Go to Marissa."

Sark stands up and opens the front door. I watch in amazement as the cat goes bounding down the stairs.

"Where is he going?" I ask as Sark deadbolts the door shut.

"He's going to transport the intel that we gathered tonight to my other handler, Marissa. She's the one that travels with me. James stays strictly in the US."

Sark goes to turn off his computer, but as he reaches forward I see him wince.

"Sark, let me look at your arm. You're hurt."

"I'm fine," he responds tiredly, but he still lets me lead him to the couch. I've hardly taken the opportunity to notice his personal space, but I realize that it suits him. The décor is simple, yet functional. And it is obvious that some of his furniture is of high quality.

We sit down on the leather couch. I look at his arm, but the stain is on his upper arm so I can't just roll up his sleeve.

"Let me help you take your shirt off."

He lets me undress his upper body, but I don't notice his naked chest until it's too late. I force myself to look at his arm instead though and I notice that he's right. The bullet just grazed his arm, but it is still bleeding. I go to his washroom, wet a small towel and find a roll of gauze in the medicine cabinet. I try and ignore exactly how well stocked he is. I don't need any more reminders of the hazards of our jobs tonight.

I go back to him sitting on the couch, and I take his arm. I wash the blood off with the damp towel and then wrap his arm as gently as I can, while still providing some pressure to stop the blood flow. After I finish taping up his arm, I sit back.

But now I am no longer distracted with his arm, and I can't help but let my eyes linger over his bare chest.

Sark breaks the silence. "Why did you come with me tonight, Sydney?" his voice is weary.

I look away for a moment. I know the answer, but I have to gather my courage to tell him. I look back into his eyes. His face is blank and his gaze is level. He is demanding complete honesty from me, and I have no choice but to comply.

"I came because I made my choice. Really I made it over a year ago, but I just wasn't ready to accept it. I am now."

"Why now? What has changed?"

I look at him and I am amazed at how much younger he looks, half undressed. It's easy for me to forget that he's in fact a few years younger than me. He always seems so sure of himself; he's so arrogant in his actions. It's easy to forget that he may have doubts about my feelings. That he may need me as much as I need him.

"I can't…" I take a deep breath and force myself to continue. "I can't keep doing this alone. I could before, when I didn't know any different. I could keep locking things away within myself and carrying on, but that's because I didn't think that there were any other options. I had to be strong, I had to carry on. So I did what I had to do. But the truth of the matter is that the only way I could do that was to not feel anything at all. It's like I was dead inside." I pause again to catch my breath, and I notice that my pain is mirrored in his eyes.

I look closer at his chest, and I see that along his muscles are tiny, little scars and a longer scar close to his right shoulder. And I wonder if those were a courtesy from our trip to Hong Kong. I pick up his right hand and turn it around so that it is face down. I see the thick, white scar along his knuckles. I remember feeling his blood pouring out of this wound. His blood. His life.

I suddenly feel a small sob escape me but I want to carry on. I want to tell him. "He's dead you know. Jian Xie. But not from the fire or the explosion. I slit his throat with the same knife he used on you."

Sark remains silent, but the pain is still in his eyes. He must know what this confession is costing me.

"I have nightmares of when they brought me into his office. The leering, the half caresses. It's almost funny. You think that evil is usually portrayed as hiding in darkness, but not in this case. In this case I see it in Technicolor…the men with their machine guns, him with his knife. I remember the dirt on the floor and the caged light bulb overhead. I can't seem to get rid of these images in my mind."

"I can remember exactly the feeling his tongue in my mouth." I shudder. I can't stop the feelings of revulsion. I have opened up the flood gates and there is no stopping the tide now.

"I couldn't do it though, I couldn't just lie there and feel his tongue squishing around in my mouth. I couldn't…I'd even stopped you from doing that, but that was different. I just couldn't. I…I grabbed the knife out of his hand and kicked him away. The other guard was going to shoot me so I threw the knife at his face. It hit him in the eye. I didn't even think twice about ripping it out and turning to Jian Xie. And his ugly, beady little eyes. I knocked him down first. Then I slit his throat while looking into his face."

Sark allows me to pause without any interruptions, but I don't need any words from him to know that he is paying attention. I look at him and I can tell every fiber in his body is listening to me.

"I didn't even think what I was doing until I felt his warm blood spraying all over me. It was horrible… But then it was going to happen all over again in Vienna. Except this time I couldn't do anything to stop it. It was going to happen, and I had no control over it."

I shudder and look up into his face. But there is no revulsion on his face for what I have done. There is no disapproval; there is no shame in his face for the fact that he loves a killer. There is just pain because I am suffering.

He says nothing but he reaches forward, towards me. He turns me around and unzips my dress and through my tears, I wonder what he is doing. I let my dress fall to the floor and I am left wearing nothing but my lingerie. But he doesn't look at me with lust; he just opens his arms to me. I allow myself to climb into his arms, and I lean my head against his bare chest. He envelops me with his arms and then I know what he has done. He has given me his warmth, and he has given me himself. Completely. With no barriers to stand in our way.

And I burst into tears and cry like I haven't cried in years.

For the blood.

For the pain.

For the nightmares.

For the things that we have had to bear alone.

And for the relief that we need never be alone again.

…

I shift slightly as a ray of sun falls across my face, and I realize that we have fallen asleep. Me with my head on his chest, him with his head resting on mine, his arms securely around me.

My stirring causes him to wake, and I look up into his face. With his hand he wipes away the dried tears on my face.

"Thank-you" I whisper to him and he just smiles. And I realize that I never had anything to fear at all, about giving up my control to him. Because rather than making me weaker, he has made me feel stronger than ever.

He tightens his hold on me and stands. And I let him carry me into his bedroom, feeling safe within his arms.

He lays me on the bed, but then he turns around and goes to the window. I don't have time to ask him what he's doing before he throws open the curtains and lets the sun shine inside. His apartment is at the back of the building, overlooking a beautiful park.

"This time," he says softly, "I am going to make love to you in the sunlight, exposed to the entire world." He climbs up onto the bed, along side of me.

And I feel shivers of longing as his words echo through my mind.

He's going to make love to me.

And I smile.

He moves his face close to mine and lets me enjoy the sheer nearness of him as I look into his eyes. He moves his hand and caresses my cheek, and I almost feel like bursting inside. He moves his face closer to me and I can feel his lips softly caressing mine.

And I feel like dying from anticipation but I don't make a move. I am submitting to him and reveling in his ability to make me desire.

I feel.

I want.

He presses his mouth firmly against mine, and I can't stop my hand from snaking around his head and holding him to me. The pressure is just too great and he opens my mouth with his and devours my lips.

He's hungry for me and I want to give him all that I am.

He teases my tongue gently with his, but it's not enough. My nightmares are irrelevant now and I need him completely without him holding back. I force my tongue into his mouth and he understands.

And he kisses me so deeply that nothing else matters.

Finally he pulls back his head and looks at me. His eyes are wide and dark with desire. He takes my hands and puts them both above my head. He doesn't bind them, he just lets them rest on the pillow but I understand. I will not move them.

We are both half dressed, but I think that makes the moment even sexier. He is still wearing his dress pants and I am in my bra and underwear. He lowers his head to my breasts and breathes hot air through the thin material of my bra, over the top of my nipples.  He slips his finger tips underneath the edges of the underwire, but he doesn't undress me further. He caresses my body with his hands as he moves his face lower still until he is breathing hot air through the thin material of my panties. And again his fingertips tease me around the edges of the elastic.

He's driving me insane, and he's hardly done anything yet. He gets up and takes off his pants, but he shakes his head at me when I begin to move as well. He wants me to stay exactly where I am. He comes back to bed completely naked, and I can feel the heat of his body against mine.

He starts back up at my face, kissing me softly before moving to my neck. I can feel him following the curve of my neck to my ears where he blows gently into them while whispering my name.

He moves his face back up so that he can look at my face. "You are so beautiful" he whispers.

This time as his hands move lower he turns my body slightly so that he can release the bra from the back. As he discards it casually behind him, he caresses me fully. I can feel the calluses on his hands as they cup my breasts but that just makes me want him more.

He rubs my nipples between his fingers on one hand while the other hand starts it descent even lower. He can't take off my underwear with only one hand so he settles for slipping his hand underneath them and rubbing my flesh softly. Teasing me again with his fingertips, but at least this time I can feel him directly.

I don't stop the moan from escaping my lips.

Reluctantly he leaves my breast and moves his other hand down to finish the job of removing my underwear. He casually adds them to our discarded clothing pile before he returns eagerly to me.

Except now he returns to my legs. And he pushes them apart. I am here, exposed to him completely and I want to laugh at my earlier fear of him.

He brings his face between my legs and licks me gently while teasing me with his fingers.

I almost want to cry again.

He starts to suck on my clit and I can't help arching my back as the sensations wash over me.

His fingers tease me some more until finally he enters me with them, and I lose all semblance of thought.

All I can feel are the waves of pleasure that start at his mouth and come full circle throughout me and end at his fingers.

It's been too long and there's just been so much between us.

And I scream as he breaks through the last of my control.

And I move my hands down and bring them into his hair. And he continues his ministrations as I ride through my waves of pleasure until I finally collapse back down onto this earth.

And then I see him next to me, desire thick in his eyes and I can't stand the wait any longer. I push him back on the bed and straddle him forcefully, taking all of him in me. Because really, I have never been a patient woman.

And it's his turn to close his eyes in pleasure as I rock on top of him. It's his turn to dig his fingernails into me, as I ride him closer to his oblivion.

And closer to mine once again.

And I guess he's not a patient man either, because he finally flips me back over, onto my back and takes over the rhythm.

And he thrusts quicker and quicker. I can feel myself approaching the edge once again and he continues his rhythm until I find myself falling over the precipice.  He joins me by exploding within me and screaming my name in my ear.

…

We lay panting together with him collapsed above of me. And I can feel his heart pounding against my chest.

Or maybe it's my heart pounding against his.

He rolls off of me, exhausted but he gathers me in his arms and holds me tight against his sweaty chest.

I give in to my own exhaustion as I lie within his arms.

…

I awake sometime later with the sun shining fully across my face. I turn around but he's not there.

Instead Fish is lying in his spot with his head on Sark's pillow, purring contently.

On the pillow I see a small note with a fresh cut rose lying on top of it.

Sydney, I had to go back to the mines. The situation is too hot right now. Go back to LA and tell Sloane that I sent you home. He will understand what that means. Tell him that I will acquire the intel from Lopez.

I will try and be back to LA in a few weeks. I love you.

Fish looks at me as I finish reading the note and then flips himself onto his back, expecting me to rub his stomach. Like his master, I find it hard to refuse him and like his master, he eagerly takes all that I have to give him.

I lie back onto the bed for a moment and close my eyes. I want to bask in our moments together for just a little while longer. I need to memorize exactly how the last line of the note look, before I have to get up and burn it. I want to replay every moment from this morning over in my mind so that I can carry it around with me forever.

So that until I see him again, I will have happy memories to content myself with.

So that regardless of what happens in the future, in our crazy lives, I will have a little piece of him with me forever, wrapped deeply within my very soul.