Sydney's eyes snapped open as the recurring dream came to an end. For two weeks, she had been bombarded with different dreams involving the object of her hatred: Sark.

She rubbed her eyes as her mind began to panic. Her fear grew when she realized that Will's naked body was next to hers on the bed. She placed her left hand on her forehead, the events of the fortnight flashing through her memory like a bad movie.

Why had she gotten drunk? She was so lonely, and Will just happened to be the only man she had ever really trusted...

Oh God.

She felt like she was going to vomit. She could taste the bile rising in her throat. She stood up quickly, completely forgetting her state of nakedness. She rushed toward the bathroom, throwing open the door, and kneeled in front of the toilet, her stomach ridding itself of its contents.

When she was through, she stood up slowly, moving to stand in front of the sink. She turned on the water, allowing the cool liquid to wash over her hands, then splashing it over her face. Tears fell from her eyes as she looked at her reflection hesitantly. Her hair was disheveled, and her face and eyes were flaming red.

She stared herself in the eye, shocked at the sudden memory of being Julia Thorne.

Her hair had been long, layered and blonde, her eyes still a fiery, vivid dark brown. Her face had been stoic, as she was trained to feel no pain, no emotion...no remorse. She shook her head. She hated these new memories. All she could remember were feelings. No specific events, just the feelings, or lack thereof, that she had as Julia Thorne.

She could still remember Sark's face from her dream. He had looked defeated, weak at first, something she had never seen the terrorist display. At the same time though, he was determined, his eyes maintaining their all-too-familiar mischievous gleam. His eyes were filled with a mass of contradictions. Determination...Fear...Sadness....Concern...

She rubbed her face again. What did this all mean? Why was Sark appearing in her dreams? Were these memories from actual events that occurred during her missing years? Hadn't Sark been in CIA custody during her hiatus? If these weren't memories, why would she be envisioning Sark in such a different, endearing light?

She shook her head, suddenly remembering the mission at hand. Just as quickly, an idea sprang into her mind, and she ran to wake up Will.


*****


Sark struggled to hide his smirk, only to fail miserably. It was just too fun. Sydney reached for the cube tentatively, only to have it taken from her grasp. He peered through the hole he hade made only moments ago, watching as she recognized his presence. Her scowl was completed expected, but the wicked smile that followed was not. He shook his head, realizing she had, for only a moment, looked like Julia Thorne once again.

He did not falter. He grabbed the cube and was soon racing back through the corridor, finding that he really did not care that Allison had turned to run in the other direction. His breathing became heavier when he picked up the pace, for one reason only: Sydney Bristow's heels were clicking in rapid time as she pursued him. She closed in on him, and only one thought entered his mind. How could she run in those blasted things? Of all the mysteries in this world he was immersed in, that was really all he desired to know.

He groaned in pain as her foot connected with his lower back, sending him crashing into a door. He shook his head, immediately springing to his feet. He ducked his head several times, blocking a series of kicks and punches she threw in his direction. His lack of exuberance in terms of hitting her back did not go unnoticed by Sydney.

"Of all the things you've done, now you can't hit a girl?" she asked, between deep breaths and the punches she threw at him.

"What can I say..." he began, grunting when her fist connected with his jaw. He turned back to her, rubbing the area slowly, "I'm a changed man."

She snorted but remained still, obviously exhausted. She placed her hands on her hips, her eyes searching his cerulean eyes. Neither spoke for a moment as they engaged in a staring contest of sorts. He smirked again, irritating her. She sighed loudly.

"What?" she demanded, "Just what about this situation amused you so much?"

He laughed out loud, and Sydney was more irritated as she realized how wonderful his laughter sounded. He shook his head, his laughs fading into a soft chuckle.

"I was just admiring your dress. You're certainly a knockout," he said, his eyes glancing up and down her body. She remembered how short her dress was, her face flushing instantly. She shook her head, clearing her throat loudly and lifted her gun, pointing it directly in his face. He laughed again.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Sark. Give me the box," she said forcefully. His eyes danced, mocking her.

"I just want to know where you hide your gun," he said, glancing over her dress again. She shook her head, disgusted, narrowing her eyes.

"Shut up!" she spat, "Just give me the box!"

"It's a cube, Miss Bristow," he said calmly, waving it in front of her face.

She let out a scream, pouncing on him. Her rage clouded her judgement, and within moments Sark had acquired her gun, and had it trained on her forehead.

"Now you see, Miss Bristow, what a temper like yours leads to? Unnecessary grief. Absolutely unnecessary," he paused, smirking, "Now, be a good little CIA agent and come with me," he said, reaching for her elbow, which she promptly pulled away.

"No way! You're insane! I'm not going anywhere with you!" she yelled, pointing her finger in his face. His face grew serious, and he pulled her to him in one swift moment, twisting her arm behind her back. He pushed the gun into the side of her head, smirking again.

"I have the gun Miss Bristow. You're coming with me," he said, forcing her to walk out the door with him.

"Will will come for me," she spat, groaning as he twisted her arm further as they walked toward his vehicle.

"I highly doubt that. He's nothing but a second-rate analyst," he said, laughing.

"Who's gonna kick your girlfriend's ass," Sydney snapped. He slammed her up against the passenger side of his car, his breath warm against her face.

"Allison is of no consequence to me. She's merely been a means to an end," he said, flashing his radiant smile at her.

"You're such a jerk," she spat, attempting to turn her eyes away from his constant gaze. He instantly placed his hands on her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. She gasped, amazed at the familiarity of their position...

"I could've made you take off that delicious dress of yours. I'm not so bad," he said, winking at her, and then releasing her only to open the door, shoving her inside.

She groaned as she climbed over her, not willing to allow her the chance to escape. As he settled into the driver's seat, gun still pointed in her direction, she looked at him venomously.

"You disgust me," she spat.

He only smirked as he turned the key in the ignition, started the car, and put it into drive.