Title: Syrina

Author: Vona

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Sark/OC, S/S undertones

Disclaimer: Last time I checked, I still didn't own them.

Genre: Romance, Adventure

Spoilers: The Two, maybe a little bit of Succession...

Summary: Syrina Khasinau, Alexander's daughter, comes in to rescue Sark and beat Sydney to the Telling.

Syrina

Chapter One

Youth

            Syrina Khasinau waited impatiently, her foot tip tapping against the packed dirt.  Sark was supposed to be here by now.  Sydney Bristow had said she would trade him for the page.  She hated it when people were late.  It was completely disrespectful.  She was young, only seventeen, but she was the co-head of the new terrorist enterprise, The Covenant.  She and Sark were in charge of the organization.  Syrina was beautiful, silky brown hair and bright green eyes, tall and thin, the quintessential teenager.  She was what every seventeen-year-old girl wanted to be except for the cold-blooded murderer thing.  She was beyond intelligent, speaking seven languages fluently.  She was agile and flexible and strong.  She stared down the dusty road and waited.  The sun beat down on her, each strand of her chocolatey hair glittering.  A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead. She sighed as she wiped it away.  She hated sweating.  Finally, a large, black SUV ambled down the road and came to a stop.  Sydney Bristow stepped out, sunglasses blocking her eyes.  She yanked Sark out of the SUV and he stumbled.  His initial appearance shocked Syrina.  He was much thinner and his beautiful blond curls were shorn into a prison cut.  Even his blue eyes seemed dull now, though, the instant he saw her they lightened.  Sydney stepped forward. 

"You're a little young to be doing this, aren't you?"

Syrina narrowed her emerald eyes.  She hated it when people mistook age for experience.  She replied in a clipped Russian accent, "I'm old enough, Agent Bristow."

"I'm at a disadvantage.  I don't know your name."

Syrina smiled coldly.

"We haven't been introduced yet, have we?  I'm Syrina Khasinau."

Syrina paused, waiting for Sydney to absorb the information.

"Alexander Khasinau's daughter."

She made no movement, but spoke instead.  "Now, the switch."

She produced the Rambaldi prophecy page that she'd already deciphered and interpreted.  This prophecy was the key to Sydney's disappearance, along with the other part that had disappeared over time.  It was part of The Telling, The Two.  Sydney pushed Sark to Syrina as she took the page.

"My employer thanks you for your cooperation."

Syrina knew that would send the CIA into a frenzy, trying to discover who owned The Covenant.  Little did they know, they were already in contact with both of them.  Idiots.  Syrina stood beside Sark, waiting for Sydney to drive off.  The first thing Sark taught her was to never turn her back on an opponent.  They could turn on her in a moment.  Sydney did eventually drive away and Syrina led Sark to her blue convertible.  She revved the engine and pulled onto the road, leaving a trail of smokey dust behind her.  Sark was quiet for a few moments, then spoke, "You got your driver's license."

"A lot can happen in two years, Andrew."

"So it can.  So who exactly are you working for now?"

Syrina smiled at him, her straight white teeth shining at him.

"Myself.  You and I are in charge.  I have several people working under me.  I just started up the organization three months ago.  My first job was to acquire part two of The Telling.  It mentions what will happen to The One.  All we need now is what The Two's part in it is."

"Wonderful.  Which agency do I own now?"

"The Covenant."

Sark tilted his head, his mind floating back to the day they'd made the covenant.

*Sark had been eighteen for a couple of months.  Irina had recently promoted him to her other right hand man, other than Alexander Khasinau.  He and Allison had decided to go out and celebrate and Syrina had overheard them making plans and begged to tag along.  Syrina was barely thirteen.  Beautiful for her age, Sark had to remind himself of just that.  She was thirteen.  Besides, he had Allison.  Syrina had been raised in the life.  Sark himself had been training her with guns, sais, and hand-to-hand combat lately.  They were at their favorite cafe, Jolie's Cafe, eating.  Allison excused herself, probably for a cigarette break.  Or maybe for a Syrina break.  Allison hated Syrina.  Sark had never understood it.  Syrina was a sweet and charming girl.  She was intelligent and a quick study, he could see her becoming an excellent spy.  But still, Allison despised the girl.  Syrina scooted her chair in, taking a sip of the Petreuse he'd given her.  It was a special occasion.  She made a face as the sour liquid slid down her throat, but quickly disguised it when she noticed Sark staring at her.

"I'm so proud of you, Andrew."

"Thank you."  He did sincerely appreciate her pride. 

"You're like the youngest person to be in charge of a division of Irina's organization."

Syrina was so well liked, she even knew who The Man was.  That was more than he could say for Allison.

"I am the youngest.  Never mistake age for experience, Syri.  I am just as good as your father, if not better at spying."

Syrina nodded.  "I know you're that good.  I'm working on it."

"You'll be there someday."

"What if you get captured? You're going to be in more danger being in charge."

"I won't get captured."

"But what if you do?  How will you get away?"

Sark shrugged it off.  "I'll always have you to help me."  He was flirting with her now.  He couldn't resist it.  She scrunched up her nose cutely.

"I promise I'll always rescue you if you get captured."  Syrina was completely earnest in her promise and Sark realized just how worried she really was.  He smiled at her indulgently and tapped her on the nose.  "And I promise I'll always keep you safe, Syrina."

Syrina returned his smile, leaning against the seat of her chair just as Allison returned.*

Sark settled himself in the plush leather seat, feeling suddenly like he'd failed her.

"Thank you for getting me out, Syri."

Syrina knew what he'd been thinking about.

"I promised you.  I'm just sorry it took me so long to get you out.  I had to make a lot of plans."

"I never expected you to fulfill that promise. You're hardly seventeen."

"So.  You never acted like age mattered."

Her gaze had swiveled from the road to Sark.

"It doesn't."

"You always pushed me to be better."

He sighed.  "Come now, no fighting between us now.  I haven't seen you for two long years.  Tell me what's been going on with you."

"Allison came to Moscow.  She's alive."

"I thought Sydney had killed her."

"Almost did.  She shot her three times.  Allison's working under us."

"She agreed to work with you?"

"To get you out, yes."

Sark nodded.  "What else?"

"I learned Spanish and German."

"Excellent."

Syrina fell quiet, turning her attention back on the road.  She gripped the steering wheel as the wind blew her long brown hair like a banner behind her.  She muttered softly, "I missed you, Andrew."

Sark reached over and squeezed her hand.  "I missed you, too, Syri."