7
Her instincts kicked in and she pushed on his chest, trying to shove him away, but his arms tightened firmly around her. "Relax." Sark whispered, his lips breaking from hers, and he kissed and nibbled a path along her jaw. "It's called 'improvisation'." His lips brushed against her ear, and Sydney shivered as a rope of desire wound up her spine. The slowly approaching footsteps were echoing toward them, and realization dawned on her. Cautiously, her body loosened, and she replaced the mask of suspicion and fear on her face with one of dreamy passion. She slid her hands down the flat plane of his stomach and placed them on his hips, pulling them into hers. Their lips came together again, as Sark's hand slid over her shoulder and neck, and into her hair, while the other pressed against the small of her back.
Sydney wasn't aware of the moment she lost track of her last rational thoughts; the ones telling her that this was just an act and to ignore the heat she felt burning between her legs. She wasn't aware of the moment she stopped listening to the footsteps that almost certainly meant trouble for them both, and listened to the growl that tore from Sark's throat as she enticed him to deepen the kiss with the flick of her tongue over his lips. The heat under his coat warmed her hands as they ran up his back. Sark was tangling his tongue with hers, and his fingers slipped from her hair and trailed down her cheek, her neck, and across her collarbone. They lightly stroked the soft skin between her breasts, and Sydney moaned against his mouth.
They were interrupted by the sound of a gun being cocked. Sark broke away from her and they turned to see a security guard standing a few feet away, his gun aimed and ready. "Ehi!" he shouted. "Che lei fanno sostiene qui?"
Sark raised his hands and replied "Per favore, il docente universitario't dice nessuno di questo. Se mia moglie erano scoprire, sarebbe furioso." The guard eyed them suspiciously, but started to lower his gun. The squeal of tires caused him to spin around to face the van that had shot into the alley. Sark pounced on the man, grabbing his arm and wrenching it up and behind his back. He ripped the gun from the guard's grip and pistol-whipped him. The guard crashed to the ground.
The van screeched to a halt in front of them. The tinted passenger window slid down with a hum, revealing Simon, a cocky grin stretched across his face. "Well," he said, "it looks like we're just in time."
Sydney rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from the wall. Her breathing was still heavy, and she avoided Sark's gaze as he pulled open the side door for her. Her mind was racing, a wild storm of confusion and reproves. The kiss was an act, of course, but she couldn't deny how much she had enjoyed it. She glanced at Sark, seated quietly beside her. His face was a mask, as always.
As the van lurched forward into the night, Simon twisted around in his seat. "So, did you get the chip?" he asked.
"Of course." Sark replied. "Julia is incredibly skilled at her work." He looked meaningfully at her and winked, the smirk on his face causing Sydney to ball her hand into a fist. She spent the rest of the ride glaring silently out the window.
****
Simon tried to convince them to have a few drinks with him and Russet, but Sydney claimed exhaustion. Sark had gone inside their room, and Sydney was about to follow him when Simon touched her arm. "Good work tonight." He said. She was startled when he leaned in and kissed her cheek. He must have seen her surprise, for he grinned and said "Sorry. I know I'm not supposed to do that." He shrugged. "I just miss you, babe." He turned and went down the hall into his own room.
Sydney stared after him. Perhaps she had underestimated Simon's affections for Julia. She entered her room. Sark had taken off his coat and thrown it on the sofa. He was setting up a laptop on the desk, preparing to make a copy of the stolen chip for the CIA. He worked in silence as Sydney watched over his shoulder, not trusting Sark enough not to pull anything if she left the room.
The copy made, Sark handed it to Sydney. "That should satisfy your employers for the mean time."
"Now, I've helped you." Sydney said. "When do you uphold your end of the deal?"
Sark smiled and pulled up a briefcase from the floor and placed it on the desk. He opened and pulled out a dossier. "This is something I stumbled across. I don't know what it means, but make of it what you will."
Sydney took the dossier from his hand and flipped it open. Her eyes devoured the small amount of text inside. She re-read it five more times before meeting Sark's eyes again. "This doesn't make any sense." Sark was silent. "According to this, a Covenant agent, matching Julia's description, is infiltrating the CIA as we speak." She dropped the open file on the desk and began pacing as she spoke. "My father tested me for mind control when I came back. There was no evidence of any. How could I be helping the Covenant without being aware of it?" Sydney was speaking more to herself then to Sark.
"It's possible that the woman described is not you, Sydney." Sark said. "It simply describes a woman of your age with blond hair. That could be anyone."
Sydney shook her head. "No. It's too much of a coincidence. Who else could it be?" She stopped in front of him. "This was all you could get? There was no further information?"
"No. I'm only allowed a certain degree of access to the Covenant's files. I tried to dig further, but to no avail." Sydney frowned. "However, as I continue to work for the Covenant and prove my worth to them, their confidence in me should increase, thereby allowing me to delve further into the matter."
Sydney let out a sigh of frustration and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Okay." She said. She glanced at the file. "Thank you, for this. You've done more for me then the CIA has." Her voice was not without a touch of bitterness.
Sark nodded in response, but said nothing. After an awkward pause, Sydney smiled slightly. "Well, I actually am tired, so I'm going to get ready for bed." She walked into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She took off the transmitter earrings and placed them back in their case. She slipped out of her dress and hung it in the garment bag in the closet. She tugged on the robe she had previously abandoned to the floor, and began removing all the pins that were keeping her hair up. She was careful not to drop and lose any on the floor. Finally, she leaned over, flipping her hair, and shook her fingers through it. Sydney stood up again, and remembered that she needed to wash the make-up off her face. She headed back towards the door and pulled it open.
Sark was standing by the window, staring out into the night. He had taken off his shirt, and the muscles on his back were dimly lit by the moonlight. He turned towards her, and Sydney sucked in a breath as her eyes raked over his smooth skin. She couldn't help but notice how low his pants were sitting on his hips. Slightly dazed, she finally spoke. "I just need the washroom for a minute." She said, and she tore her eyes away from him.
She felt her cheeks grow hot as she enclosed herself within the safety of the washroom. Sydney leaned over the sink and splashed cool water onto her face. Memories of Sark's lips and hands and tongue were snapping in her mind.
When she'd finished washing up, she opened the door to find the room completely dark. The curtains had been drawn shut, and she assumed Sark had gone to sleep on the couch. She quietly made her way back to the bedroom and was about to close the door when he spoke in the dark. "Sydney?"
"Yes?"
"You looked beautiful this evening."
Sydney blushed, and after a moment, replied. "Thank you." She closed the door, turned off the light, and slipped out of her robe and into bed. She spent a long time lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, her thoughts became more and more distant as she drifted willingly into the embrace of sleep.
****
She woke early the next morning to find that Sark had already left. A note lay on top of the file she had left on the desk the night before.
I shall be in contact soon. Thank you for not slapping me again; I appreciate it.
S.
Sydney smiled to herself and began preparing for her flight back home.
Her instincts kicked in and she pushed on his chest, trying to shove him away, but his arms tightened firmly around her. "Relax." Sark whispered, his lips breaking from hers, and he kissed and nibbled a path along her jaw. "It's called 'improvisation'." His lips brushed against her ear, and Sydney shivered as a rope of desire wound up her spine. The slowly approaching footsteps were echoing toward them, and realization dawned on her. Cautiously, her body loosened, and she replaced the mask of suspicion and fear on her face with one of dreamy passion. She slid her hands down the flat plane of his stomach and placed them on his hips, pulling them into hers. Their lips came together again, as Sark's hand slid over her shoulder and neck, and into her hair, while the other pressed against the small of her back.
Sydney wasn't aware of the moment she lost track of her last rational thoughts; the ones telling her that this was just an act and to ignore the heat she felt burning between her legs. She wasn't aware of the moment she stopped listening to the footsteps that almost certainly meant trouble for them both, and listened to the growl that tore from Sark's throat as she enticed him to deepen the kiss with the flick of her tongue over his lips. The heat under his coat warmed her hands as they ran up his back. Sark was tangling his tongue with hers, and his fingers slipped from her hair and trailed down her cheek, her neck, and across her collarbone. They lightly stroked the soft skin between her breasts, and Sydney moaned against his mouth.
They were interrupted by the sound of a gun being cocked. Sark broke away from her and they turned to see a security guard standing a few feet away, his gun aimed and ready. "Ehi!" he shouted. "Che lei fanno sostiene qui?"
Sark raised his hands and replied "Per favore, il docente universitario't dice nessuno di questo. Se mia moglie erano scoprire, sarebbe furioso." The guard eyed them suspiciously, but started to lower his gun. The squeal of tires caused him to spin around to face the van that had shot into the alley. Sark pounced on the man, grabbing his arm and wrenching it up and behind his back. He ripped the gun from the guard's grip and pistol-whipped him. The guard crashed to the ground.
The van screeched to a halt in front of them. The tinted passenger window slid down with a hum, revealing Simon, a cocky grin stretched across his face. "Well," he said, "it looks like we're just in time."
Sydney rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from the wall. Her breathing was still heavy, and she avoided Sark's gaze as he pulled open the side door for her. Her mind was racing, a wild storm of confusion and reproves. The kiss was an act, of course, but she couldn't deny how much she had enjoyed it. She glanced at Sark, seated quietly beside her. His face was a mask, as always.
As the van lurched forward into the night, Simon twisted around in his seat. "So, did you get the chip?" he asked.
"Of course." Sark replied. "Julia is incredibly skilled at her work." He looked meaningfully at her and winked, the smirk on his face causing Sydney to ball her hand into a fist. She spent the rest of the ride glaring silently out the window.
****
Simon tried to convince them to have a few drinks with him and Russet, but Sydney claimed exhaustion. Sark had gone inside their room, and Sydney was about to follow him when Simon touched her arm. "Good work tonight." He said. She was startled when he leaned in and kissed her cheek. He must have seen her surprise, for he grinned and said "Sorry. I know I'm not supposed to do that." He shrugged. "I just miss you, babe." He turned and went down the hall into his own room.
Sydney stared after him. Perhaps she had underestimated Simon's affections for Julia. She entered her room. Sark had taken off his coat and thrown it on the sofa. He was setting up a laptop on the desk, preparing to make a copy of the stolen chip for the CIA. He worked in silence as Sydney watched over his shoulder, not trusting Sark enough not to pull anything if she left the room.
The copy made, Sark handed it to Sydney. "That should satisfy your employers for the mean time."
"Now, I've helped you." Sydney said. "When do you uphold your end of the deal?"
Sark smiled and pulled up a briefcase from the floor and placed it on the desk. He opened and pulled out a dossier. "This is something I stumbled across. I don't know what it means, but make of it what you will."
Sydney took the dossier from his hand and flipped it open. Her eyes devoured the small amount of text inside. She re-read it five more times before meeting Sark's eyes again. "This doesn't make any sense." Sark was silent. "According to this, a Covenant agent, matching Julia's description, is infiltrating the CIA as we speak." She dropped the open file on the desk and began pacing as she spoke. "My father tested me for mind control when I came back. There was no evidence of any. How could I be helping the Covenant without being aware of it?" Sydney was speaking more to herself then to Sark.
"It's possible that the woman described is not you, Sydney." Sark said. "It simply describes a woman of your age with blond hair. That could be anyone."
Sydney shook her head. "No. It's too much of a coincidence. Who else could it be?" She stopped in front of him. "This was all you could get? There was no further information?"
"No. I'm only allowed a certain degree of access to the Covenant's files. I tried to dig further, but to no avail." Sydney frowned. "However, as I continue to work for the Covenant and prove my worth to them, their confidence in me should increase, thereby allowing me to delve further into the matter."
Sydney let out a sigh of frustration and pushed a strand of hair away from her face. "Okay." She said. She glanced at the file. "Thank you, for this. You've done more for me then the CIA has." Her voice was not without a touch of bitterness.
Sark nodded in response, but said nothing. After an awkward pause, Sydney smiled slightly. "Well, I actually am tired, so I'm going to get ready for bed." She walked into her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She took off the transmitter earrings and placed them back in their case. She slipped out of her dress and hung it in the garment bag in the closet. She tugged on the robe she had previously abandoned to the floor, and began removing all the pins that were keeping her hair up. She was careful not to drop and lose any on the floor. Finally, she leaned over, flipping her hair, and shook her fingers through it. Sydney stood up again, and remembered that she needed to wash the make-up off her face. She headed back towards the door and pulled it open.
Sark was standing by the window, staring out into the night. He had taken off his shirt, and the muscles on his back were dimly lit by the moonlight. He turned towards her, and Sydney sucked in a breath as her eyes raked over his smooth skin. She couldn't help but notice how low his pants were sitting on his hips. Slightly dazed, she finally spoke. "I just need the washroom for a minute." She said, and she tore her eyes away from him.
She felt her cheeks grow hot as she enclosed herself within the safety of the washroom. Sydney leaned over the sink and splashed cool water onto her face. Memories of Sark's lips and hands and tongue were snapping in her mind.
When she'd finished washing up, she opened the door to find the room completely dark. The curtains had been drawn shut, and she assumed Sark had gone to sleep on the couch. She quietly made her way back to the bedroom and was about to close the door when he spoke in the dark. "Sydney?"
"Yes?"
"You looked beautiful this evening."
Sydney blushed, and after a moment, replied. "Thank you." She closed the door, turned off the light, and slipped out of her robe and into bed. She spent a long time lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Finally, her thoughts became more and more distant as she drifted willingly into the embrace of sleep.
****
She woke early the next morning to find that Sark had already left. A note lay on top of the file she had left on the desk the night before.
I shall be in contact soon. Thank you for not slapping me again; I appreciate it.
S.
Sydney smiled to herself and began preparing for her flight back home.
