Breaking the password turned out to be the difficult part of the mission. They were only five remaining members of the organization, at least in the cell Sark and Sydney infiltrated. The five members were easily detained, and, after a bit of truth serum, easy to question. Some knowledge of the Covenant was gained from the individuals. However, most of the knowledge came from files that had been taken from Derevko's office.
While recovering important files, Sydney had noticed one that had peeked her own interests, and folding it lengthwise, she slid it into her leather jacket.
"I believe that's it Bristow," Sark spoke.
"Yes, yes," she said, suddenly sounding nervous. She turned to Sark, who looked at her strangely.
"What's wrong with you? You look paler than usual," he said.
"You always look pale," she spat.
"I'm Irish. What's your excuse?"
"If you must know...I'm freezing. It's very cold in here," she said quickly.
"Whatever you say, darling," he said, breathing down her neck, his hands suddenly on her shoulders. She shivered, and not because she was cold. In fact, now she was feeling extremely warm. She cleared her throat.
"Let's get to the extraction point to give Weiss the info we got,"
"Right," he said.
"Then it's on to the next stage," she said, smirking. He removed his hands from her shoulders, and moved them to her waist. He used them to spin her body, so she was facing him.
"What exactly is the next stage Miss Bristow?" he asked, trying to ignore the lack of space between them.
"That's need to know," she said. He laughed. He remembered saying that to her ages ago.
"You're humorous Bristow. You really are," he said, "But really, what is your big plan?"
She stepped away from him, but his hands remained on her waist. When did we get this familiar with each other, she asked herself thoughtfully.
"I could answer that, but I'm really not sure myself. I need input from you," she said.
"What kind of input?" he asked, his blue eyes piercing her own.
"I need to find out why I, or whoever I was during my missing years, would kill Adrian Lazarey," she said quietly. Sark sighed loudly, and removed his hands from her waist. He turned away from her suddenly.
"Why Sydney?" he asked, sounding exasperated.
"Why? Sark, I need to know why I killed a man in cold blood. Despite our differences, you know me. You know that I would not kill a man just because I could," she said. He turned around to her, his eyes displaying an emotion she had never seen reflected there:
Fear.
She gasped.
"Did you know Lazarey?" she asked. He hesitated.
"I knew him," he said quietly. She moved to stand directly in front of him, her face inches from his own.
"Sark, how..."
"My connection with Lazarey is not important. You are," he said. She looked at him questioningly.
"Sydney, as you said, we are different. Very different. But I care about you, don't ask me how or why, but I do. Perhaps it's because of the things your mother had to say about you during my times as her assistant. Perhaps it's because of the respect I have for you. I'm not sure," he said, gazing at her. She smiled at his genuineness.
"Sark, you don't need to worry about me," she said, looking down. He pulled lightly on her chin, forcing her to face him.
"Sydney, you didn't know Lazarey. I did. He, and anyone associated with him, is dangerous. I don't want you to pursue this," he said. She hesitated.
"Sark, I'm going to do this with or without your help. Without you it will take longer, and I will not be protected," she said, looking at him, his hand still cupping her chin. His thumb caressed her chin lightly, as he thought about it.
"Alright I will help you,"
"Thank..." she began
"But Sydney, if there is the slightest sign that you are in danger, we are scrapping this so-called mission," he interrupted, looking at her pointedly. She sighed. She knew she needed him, so she wasn't going to argue.
"Alright, deal," she said. He hesitantly removed his hand from her chin, and led her out of the room. As they left his thoughts were of Sydney's safety; Sydney's were on the folder that was concealed in her jacket.
Its tab read ADRIAN LAZAREY.
It would make for interesting reading material later.
*****
"I never did like this movie," Sark said, throwing popcorn at Sydney. Her attempts to duck were futile.
"How could you not like this movie? Sylvester Stallone is awesome!" she said.
"Sydney, the dialogue is severely lacking, and I could think of several men to take Stallone's place as a second-rate boxer," he said, smirking at her.
"He is NOT second rate! You're just jealous. He's like, ten times more buff than you'll ever be!" she said, throwing an empty candy wrapper, hitting him in the forehead.
"Ouch!" he said, rubbing the spot where she had hit him
"See!" she laughed.
"Well, you just admitted Miss Bristow, that you've been checking me out!"
"What? I said nothing of the sort!"
"Then how do you explain your assessment of my muscle tone, or lack thereof?"
Sydney sighed. True, she thought. Instead of arguing, she only smiled. She grabbed the remote control and turned off the television, as Sark glanced at her questioningly.
"We need to get some sleep Sark," she said, "We have a busy day tomorrow,"
"Oh yes, a dangerous journey to uncover the past...how could I forget?" he mocked.
"Whatever, you're sleeping on the floor," she said.
"Oh no, I don't think so. If I'm good enough to accompany you on some death-wish mission, I'm certainly good enough to share a bed with you!" he yelled.
"I don't think..." she began.
"Bristow, shut up. We can divide the bed, alright? I'm not going to invade your small-minded notions of personal space," he said.
"But..."
"Sydney, shut up," he said seriously, but his smile undermined him. She sighed loudly.
"Fine," she said, "First I'm going to use the bathroom,"
"Thanks for sharing," he said, "Goodnight Sydney," he finished, and lifted the covers of the bed and laid down. Sydney rolled her eyes before strolling into the bathroom, but not before picking up her previously discarded jacket.
Now that Sark was occupied, Sydney was going to uncover who Adrian Lazarey was. She pushed the toilet seat down, sitting on the lid. She removed the folder from her jacket, unfolding and opening it quickly; she had been in suspense for six hours over its contents.
She wasn't prepared for what she found.