A/N: Thanks to Sallene, who helps me catch errors and gigantic story holes!
Part Four
His grogginess left him instantly and adrenaline fueled him. But he stayed still, sitting up in the bed, alert.
Sydney's eyes moved over his bare chest, and stopped at his waist where the sheet began.
She's wondering if I'm wearing anything at all. Sark's lips spread into a grin.
"I do have something on, Miss Bristow," he said smoothly, gaining the upper hand momentarily. "Sorry to disappoint you."
She glared at him, at which point he smirked openly.
"Base Ops, I have Sark," she said as she touched her ear piece. Sark raised his chin as he listened. She's not alone here. "Copy, I'll wait for back up."
Throughout the facility, he could hear the rest of her team moving about. Gunfire and shouts filled the halls and floors below.
"So why are you up here, instead of retrieving the vial?" Sark started.
Sydney saw where he was heading. "I'll let the tech team move in for the life-threatening virus. Besides, you're a high priority."
"To you or the CIA?" he quickly asked, teasing. "Either way, I'm flattered."
Her glare, which he realized he saw more than any other expression, was actually quite enticing. Sark flashed his charming smile in return.
"What are you smiling about, Sark? You're in my custody," she said with a trace of victory.
"There's no place I'd rather be."
She grunted in disgust, and rolled her eyes. Sark chuckled.
The laugh caught her attention. In fact, it looked like she froze.
"I've never heard you laugh before," she said quietly. The shock on her face . . . it wasn't just surprise. To him, it was fascination.
I can do a lot with fascination.
"There's a lot you've never heard or seen me do before."
Sydney narrowed her eyes. "Is that a come-on, Sark?"
He laughed again, more for playing on her fascination than because of humor. "I'm just saying there's a lot you don't know about me."
She didn't say anything, but just studied him. It was pensive, until her eyes focused on his chest again. Sark smiled and stared back at her, until she realized what she was doing.
"Do, uh," she paused to clear her throat, "do you want to put your shirt on?" Her timidity and nervousness made his ego swell.
She wants me. Now it was time to make her heart favor him.
"Sydney." He called her softly and leaned forward slowly, but she still jumped. "Ever since I first saw you, I've been---"
Abruptly, someone came crashing through the bedroom door, killing his line. The intruder dove at Sydney.
It was Allison. Sark almost groaned, but a gun went off, with the bullet hitting above him. Sark dropped flat on his stomach on the bed.
The two women struggled for control. Allison trapped the gun between two hands as Sydney held firm. Suddenly Allison kneed Sydney in the side. Sydney's grip faltered, and Allison had control. Without any hesitation and before Sark could protest, Allison slammed the gun down on Sydney's head.
She was out cold before she hit the ground.
Sark leapt off the bed and crouched down by Sydney. She was breathing, but she was definitely unconscious.
Allison erupted. "What are you doing! We have to---"
Sark interrupted her with a snarl. He stood up, grabbing the nose of the gun with one hand. He swiveled on a heel and quickly disarmed Allison, pushing her back too. The gun, which he leveled at her head, shook slightly with the rage that ran through Sark.
"Don't ever touch her again." His threat was so clear that all Allison did was nod.
Sark spun around and grabbed a shirt and his leather jacket.
"Is the virus compromised?" he asked, back to business. Allison paused as she seemed to gather herself.
"Yes. The CIA is headed up here. We don't have much time." There was some anger in her voice, but what showed through more was confusion and fear.
Sark really didn't care how Allison felt. She interrupted a perfect moment of seduction. He knew she probably saw it as rescuing him, but Sark never needed rescuing. I make my own escapes. Sark was a survivor.
"Out the window, Allison. I'll be right behind you," Sark ordered, tossing her the gun he took from her. He pulled his shirt over his head and slipped the jacket on. Under his pillow was a 9mm, and Sark grabbed that and his cell phone on the nightstand.
The gun was there the whole time, but Sark hadn't wanted to fight Sydney. Not physically anyway. No, their verbal sparring was much more effective.
He kneeled next to her again. Sydney's hair half-covered her face, and Sark brushed it back gingerly with his fingertips.
Peace settled over her features. If it weren't for the black tactical gear she wore, Sydney would almost appear asleep.
The thought of taking her with him crossed his mind, but several pairs of footsteps were approaching. With only moments left, Sark kissed her forehead. He looked at her beauty, which haunted him daily, and quickly went out the window.
Sark called Irina as soon as he and Allison stopped running.
"What happened?" Her question made Sark wonder if she just had some psychic link to all her operations.
"Raid. It was CIA. The virus is gone."
He heard Irina mumble something in Russian he didn't catch.
"How was the facility compromised?" she asked.
Sark thought back to the wine store. The man with the newspaper.
"I think I drew some attention earlier in the city," Sark said. He steadied his voice, making it almost robotic in his admission.
He knew Irina didn't do the blame game, but she normally would be angry. Sark appreciated her moving on.
"Stay on the move," Irina said. "We don't know what else might be compromised. I'll be in touch." Sark looked at Allison, who stared at him with a trace of anxiety.
"We need to keep moving," Sark said after hanging up. "I'll get us out of the country, but then we should split up."
Allison nodded, but the sadness in her eyes didn't go unnoticed. Sark rolled his eyes, but decided to offer some comfort if it'd help her focus.
Sark put his hands on her shoulders.
"Allison," he started, getting her attention, "We'll get out, and then you can make it on your own. Keep in touch with Irina and me." He paused, and then forced out the next words: "You're a talented agent. You'll survive."
Her melancholy disposition evaporated like a tear in the desert. She grinned broadly, then cocked her head to the side flirtatiously.
"Thanks, Sark."
Sark nodded reluctantly, and quickly kept them moving for the train station.
Allison was quiet for most of the train ride to Zurich, thankfully. Sark could tell she was stewing over something, but Sark just stared out the window, watching the moonlit scenery streak by. He was quite conscious of the hard, concentrated look he had on. It was purposeful, to keep Allison mute.
But evidently, it wasn't completely effective.
"Do you like Sydney Bristow?" Allison spat the question out like bad tofu. Sark's reproving glare was instantaneous.
"I'm willing to overlook that outburst considering the night's events," came his controlled response. Allison rolled her eyes.
"Get over yourself," she said. "You turned against me! You practically defended a CIA agent, and by doing that you betrayed Derevko."
Sark just laughed. His smile was fake and so cold, that Allison shut her mouth. A spineless look surfaced in her eyes.
"Planning on telling on me, Allison?" Sark's eyes were bright and his grin menacing. "I work for Derevko. And Sydney is her daughter." Allison knew this, but her eyes darted to the floor as she understood what he was getting at. "Next time you go up against Bristow, make sure you don't come close to hurting her."
Any remotely intelligent person would have left it there, but to Sark's annoyance, Allison did not rank among those people.
"Are you willing to sabotage our objectives just to satisfy your crush?"
'Our objectives?' Is she really stupid enough to believe she has any real part in Derevko's operations? And a 'crush'?! Sark momentarily contemplated breaking the train window and tossing Allison through it.
Sark decided to cut her off in the most clear and painful way possible--through her heart.
"Allison," he began, calmly and quietly, "just because you are jealous of Sydney Bristow doesn't mean you should mistake your place in Derevko's operations or in my life."
She opened her mouth, closed it, and tried again. The mouth clamped shut, and Sark thought he saw a shimmer in her eyes.
Who cares? Sark heard the train's brakes, and glanced out the window. They were in Zurich already. He moved out the cabin door as she stared after him. Sark called over his shoulder.
"Call Derevko later today. She'll have orders for you."
With that, Sark left Allison in the train car, and disappeared into a crowd of late travelers. As he did, he could almost still feel Allison's eyes on him.