I've succumbed to the dark side...I just love Sarkney...so once again...that's what this story will be...


The blonde boy peered around a rock, watching as his home was engulfed in flames. Tears streamed down his face, as he wiped blood from his forehead. Everything he had known, everything he had been before had been incinerated.

He was only fifteen.


*****


Five minutes ago he had been in the custody of the Covenant, as a driver attempted to whisk him and a CIA agent from the desert. Oh, but this was not the end; Bristow, in all her invincible glory had jumped in a standard CIA-issue vehicle and proceeded to chase after him and his captors.

In a flash, Sydney and Eric Weiss had gunned down the driver, along with his accomplice, and both vehicles came to a screeching halt. Within moments he was in handcuffs once again, and sitting in the passenger seat of the van. Weiss was busy initiating conversation with the CIA agent, while Sydney had chosen to drive the vehicle.

"Base-ops this is Freelancer, we have Sark and our agent," Sydney spoke into her comlink. Agent Dixon's voice came back swiftly,

"Good, Freelancer. We'll see you soon. Over," he spoke.

With that, Sydney removed her comlink from her left ear, and threw it on the dashboard. She wiped sweat beads off her forehead, the proceeded to remove her hat, throwing it at him.

Sark scowled. He had told himself many times before that he would never thank Sydney Bristow. Ever. Under any circumstances.

"Thank you," he mumbled softly. Sydney took her eyes off the road for a brief moment to look at him.

"Excuse me?" she laughed.

"I'm not saying it again Bristow. You saved my life back there," he said, piercing her brown eyes with his own.

"I'm just amazed that you..." she began.

"Look, Sydney, it was difficult enough to say it, but I did. Now shut up," he said, his eyes parting from her gaze, as he turned to peer out the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted that she smiled. Five minutes passed before she replied softly, without a bit of sarcasm,

"You're welcome."


*****


Twelve hours later Sark was 'at home' in his cell, scrutinizing the ceiling. In his quest to analyze every inch of his roofing, he failed to notice Agent Sydney Bristow's own observant eyes, as she watched him closely.

Sark was an enigma to her. She knew no information about his background, except only his place of origin in Galway, Ireland. She knew nothing of his parents, or if he had any living relatives. She did not even know his first name, or if Sark was truly a part of his true given name. She suspected that his name was nothing close to Sark; it simply did not seem to fit him.

Though she had missing for two years, and she was obviously still in love with Michael Vaughn, her eyes wandered over Sark with an admiring eye. He was built to perfection, his face was chiseled beautifully, and his eyes were an astonishing ocean blue. She was attracted to him; any woman would be. However, what she knew of him restrained her from acting upon her attraction, though the temptation was great.

This man was a murderer. He had been in league with her mother, and at one time had been in league with Sloane. He had said it himself two years before: his loyalties were flexible. That fact frightened her. What frightened her more though, was the realization that her new quest to solve this 'puzzle that was Sark', was not so much an attempt to discover the secrets behind her missing years, but to discover Sark himself.

She snapped out of her thoughts and knocked on the glass, to which Sark rose immediately, and smiled when he noticed it was Sydney.

"Bristow, I must admit, I'm rather glad it's you, and not one of your many male protectors," he said, smirking. Sydney resisted the urge to smile, displaying her game face proudly.

"Sark, as we've discussed, I need to find out what happened to me during my missing years..." she began.

"Sydney, we've already talked about this. I wasn't privy to anything Sloane, the Covenant or any miscellaneous organization planned in regards to your abduction."

"You're awfully defensive for someone who knows nothing Sark," Sydney said, glaring at him. Sark did not falter at this; he remained calm and collected.

"Sydney, you have no reason to believe me. But I wasn't aware of any attempt to abduct you. I have been here since you turned me in," he said. He watched her as she reached into her pocket, removing a tube of lipstick. She opened it, and as she lifted it to apply it to her mouth, she twisted it, and the tube made a small noise. She looked at him pointedly.

"If you hadn't interrupted me, you would know that for once, I believe you," she spoke.

He looked at her skeptically before speaking.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" he asked. Now she was smirking.

"No. The CIA hasn't provided any information or help in terms of my missing two years. I need your assistance," she spoke, looking down at her tube of lipstick. He followed her gaze, understanding now.

"Just a shot in the dark, but that's not lipstick is it Agent Bristow?"

"You're quick Sark, you're quick," she said, to which they shared a smile.

"Now as I was saying, I need your help. My father has a video of me murdering a man during my missing years," she spoke.

"Do you know his identity?" Sark asked.

"Adrian Lazarey, former KGB agent, he was in league with..." she began.

"I know who he is," Sark interrupted. For a second, Sydney could have sworn that his icy exterior had faltered. However, it was too difficult to ascertain, for a moment later, his familiar gaze had returned.

"You do?" she asked.

"I do indeed. But what do I have to do with you murdering a former KGB agent?"

"Everything, and nothing at all. I'm going to go out on a limb for you Sark. You're accompanying me on my next mission,"

"And just how are you going to convince Agent Dixon and your father that I am trustworthy, that I am worthy of accompanying you on a mission?" he asked.

"Because my next mission is to infiltrate the remnants of my mother's organization. Obviously, you know the ropes of her organization. Therefore, it's only logical that you should accompany me. We will complete the mission, and then we will set out to discover my whereabouts during my missing years," she said, smiling. He stepped back from the glass, and turned to pace the cement floor. He folded his arms across his chest, and spoke after a few moments, his back still facing her.

"How do I know this isn't a trap? A contrivance to trick me into betraying the CIA?" At this, he turned back to her. She realized his eyes had never appeared more blue than at this very moment. She sighed.

"Sark, I want to reclaim what I lost. I want to know what I did, who I hurt. If you help me, I can give you something I know you've been craving,"

"And what is that?"

"Your freedom," she spoke, glaring at him. It was unmistakable this time; his eyes faltered, revealing truth.

"Plus, I want to see if you've still got it," she said, smirking. He smiled at her, glancing down at the floor.

"Alright, I'll help you Bristow, but you must keep up your end of the bargain. After we discover where you were, I go free," he said, shifting his eyes back up to meet her own.

"Deal. I would shake on it, but this glass in an obstacle," she said, her eyes smiling.

"Not for long," he said, and with that he turned around and walked to his bed, and laid down to sleep.

It had been a long day after all.