Author's note: I freaking *hate* you people. I was all lookit! my sub par episode tag, it's gone, I'm exorcised the damned thing. But, NO, you had to be all nice (gorgeously flattering and don't think I don't know you did this on purpose!) and get my head spinning and so now, here you go. I would like to say though that this fic will be flying by the seat of its own pants. I really would prefer to finish "Scylla and Charybdis" before beginning another story, but this thing just won't leave me alone...so I've compromised. There is very little deliberate plotting here -it's all vaguely in my head and subject to inspiration from the new season. Also, there will be no beta. (Yup, I'm driving you away with bad grammar and misspelling.)This is a completely new experience for me, but it appears that I'm chained to this demon story. And that's my rationalization for any sudden changes in style or other sloppiness. Yeah, that'll teach you guys...
Mood Music: "Behind Blue Eyes"
***
Sark hadn't lied.
His private plane was] luxuriously appointed. It rested plainly in the airfield, but the inside was a spectacular achievement in comfort and style. Rather than the industrial or ultra modern decor she expected, Sydney was unexpectedly pleased to appreciate the simple lines in rich colors and dark, heavy woods.
Her own cabin had been prepared in shades of meadow green relieved by the merest hints of daffodil yellow. While he acted the gracious tour guide for her, she idly wondered if Sark had chosen the space for a particular reason.
He soon answered the question for her, "This cabin's computer console is connected directly to my network. I've allowed you access to all but my private files. You'll need to record a voice code and retinal scan.'
"I'm in the cabin across the hall. The other two cabins empty, neither is locked. I'm currently using the one bordering my own as an office. The crew space is located elsewhere. If you need anything, press this toggle and someone will see to your needs.'
"Speaking of needs," he gestured to her small duffel bag. "If you make wish to make purchases, I've opened several accounts with reliable online merchants. Anything you require will be delivered to the house by the time we arrive in Portugal. The credit is unlimited and the account numbers are listed under-"
"No," Sydney cut him off even as she began unpacking her few belongings into the mahogany dresser bolted onto the floor. "I'm good."
"Sydney," he shook his head, "Be practical. You haven't worked in two years, and it's not as if you were making anything more than civil servant wages before. We don't know how long this operation will last and I believe that razing the Covenant down to its smallest part may take a considerable amount of time. I need you dedicated to this job, not preoccupied with economics."
She slammed a drawer shut and dropped her duffel bag before looking at him, "I was pulling double pay from the CIA and SD-6 for more than a year. Give me some credit for being ready to run the minute my cover was blown. I have a nest egg, too, Sark."
"You admit that the funds are for contingencies. I am not so arrogant that I forget the perils of our work. Keep your money, Sydney, because I assure you, I am doing the same. The money I allocate for your needs and wants has been considered in our budget; it's a legitimate business expense." He handed her a wallet, "Don't be childish, Sydney, be professional. Use the resources available."
"Childish? What a lovely idea, Sark. When I need money, I'll just ask my parents for the week's allowance."
He looked at her sharply, "Irina? She's alive?"
Sydney pursed lips, unsure if Sark held a grudge for Irina was certainly responsible for captivity. And if not directly responsible, well, Irina had not attempted to extract her former operative either.
"I haven't seen her. But my father...They've been in contact. They searched for me together."
He nodded his head, "Don't worry at it, Sydney. I don't take Irina's decisions personally. If anything, I understand her motivation."
She moved to sit on the bed and Sark put his hands on her shoulders to steady her as the plane rocked with gentle turbulence.
"You appear," he said after removing his hands and stepping away, "to be surrounded by people who want to shield you."
"Well-adjusted," Sydney muttered half-heartedly.
Sark continued, "I don't claim to understand why the Save Sydney urge is so strong considering your natural resilience. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll see to supper. Are there any dishes you'd prefer?"
"No, I hardly taste food anymore."
He frowned slightly, "In that case I'll indulge in liver and boiled cabbage. I acquired quite the taste for it during my stay at Chez Le Cell Block."
Sydney blanched and he was glad she had not tried to hide the expression.
"I was being facetious," he grinned. He put his hand in his pocket, then placed a card on the console radio beside the door. He gestured for her not to get up from the bed, but moved to the open door. "Now that's your key. Sole access is yours. Feel free to be yourself, walk around in the smallest of your underclothes, or enjoy the freedom of complete nudity..."
Sydney gave him a withering glance.
"Indeed," he coughed. "That was my sense of humor making a second appearance. Did you notice? Ah, well, we'll discuss the terms of our partnership following supper. Think about what you want."
And in a neat step, Sark was gone leaving only vestiges of his cologne behind.
Sydney took a delicate sniff.
Amber, sandalwood, and lemon.
She took a deeper breath.
TBC
Again, the disclaimer: I have no idea where this is going so I might just write myself into a corner. I am super flattered that you guys liked the story so much, though, so I hope you don't regret the positive feedback before this is over.