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** I am in no way associated with Alias. The usual disclaimers apply.

PART EIGHT

"Dixon I don't like this."

Sydney looked at Dixon apprehensively, her brow furrowed in objection.

"It's out of my hands Syd."

Dixon half smiled sympathetically.

"The last time I saw Sark he'd just killed a guy and was not of sound mind. And quite frankly, I don't trust him. He's unpredictable right now - irrational. There is no-one here that could stop him if he went rogue on this mission."

Sydney crossed her arms in front of her.

"That sounds to me like you're volunteering..." Deputy-Director Whatts smiled smugly at Sydney, who turned in reaction to the deep rumble of his voice as he approached her.

"It's good to see you again Agent Bristow."

He nodded toward Dixon. "Director Dixon."

Sydney turned on him, angry.

"I don't understand! Last week you were adamant we don't negotiate with Sark, and now suddenly you've authorized sending him on a mission?"

"Agent Bristow, the CIA is flailing. Moles, leaked intelligence, mistakes, corruption - this agency is on the brink of initiating its own demise. What will happen when the CIA dies? Fear, terror, questions, blame."

Whatts paused and wiped his brow.

"The information Sark can lead us to is invaluable - integral, in fact, in ensuring the CIA's survival. The NSA has ascertained that, despite previous assumptions, he will be of use to us after all."

Sydney stuck her chin forward proudly.

"If this has to go ahead, then I'm leading the team."

Whatts raised a thick eyebrow at her questioningly.

"Are you sure?"

"I know Sark. I am familiar with his patterns. I'm the best shot you have at ensuring he doesn't get away - or try anything else."

Whatts scrutinized her for a moment longer before nodding.

"Very well."

Dixon glanced at her searchingly. "Agent Weiss will brief you at 1100."

Whatts' cavernous voice carried to Sydney as she walked away. "Good luck, Agent Bristow."

She winced at the insincerity in his words.

***

Sark played with his sleeve absently, concentrating intently on the coarse material encasing his wrist and stemming the flow of cold seeping into his skin from the heavy metal cuffs he wore grudgingly.

He didn't make eye-contact with Sydney. He couldn't bring himself to.

Several other agents who would comprise the team sat around the briefing table glancing at him occasionally or clearing their throats nervously. Sark felt more than a little uncomfortable trusting his life with these people.

Weiss stood at the head of the briefing room, files in hand and wearing an expression of importance - save for a few timid glances toward Sark. He was hoping the young man held no grudges toward him for apprehending him.

"At 1900 a small fishing vessel will catch fire near the island of Guatpiles. The island is a docking station for a group led by ex-Alliance big-shot Reamet Hounsous who has since been linked to several high-ranking Covenant members. Coastguard will break international waters to assist it. Sydney, Sark and the rest of the covert ops team will hitch a ride with the coastguard to the disengagement point. From here, you will proceed to the island without assistance or comms. Sydney and Sark will use the codes supplied to us by Sark to disable the perimeter defense system. Once inside the facility the team will break into teams of two. Team two will guard the perimeter, team three will take out the watchtowers at points 'a' and 'b'."

Weiss motioned to points on a map projected behind him.

"Team four will provide cover for alpha team - Syd and Sark - who will proceed to Hounsous' office to recover information stored on his hard drive. Sark will pilot a submarine Hounsous utilizes as an escape method to extract you off the island. Any questions?"

He didn't wait for a reply. "No? Good."

Sydney shot Sark a look, but he was yet to speak or look at her. She furrowed her brow. It was wrong for her to worry about him. He had killed her best friend and countless other innocents.

Weiss drummed the table with his fingers. "Okay people, let's move!"

***

Sydney dropped into the ocean, the cold depths rushing over her as she descended. A splash beside her indicated Sark had followed. Small flashlights identified the rest of the team and she swam toward them, her diving gear weighing her small frame down. She kept a wary eye on Sark as they made their way underwater to the island.

***

Sark pulled himself up onto the pure white sand and sighed. He had a bad feeling about this mission. He often got a sense of imminent danger - if something was going to go awry, or if Sydney was going to turn up to foil yet another of his world domination plots, and he had learned to trust his instincts, they had never let him down. Well, except for that time at Donut King - but in that case his need for a sugar fix had overpowered his spysense.

Sydney approached him menacingly.

"Sark, if you so much as breath wrong, I will kill you!"

He smiled unnervingly at her. "Fine. Like I care."

Her mind was drawn back to the week before and her visit to him at the prison.

"Good point." She stuck her chin out defensively. "Well then I'll shoot off a part of your anatomy..." She glanced warningly to the bulge in the lower part of his rubber diving suit.

He smirked again. "Ah but you'd be sorry you did that... eventually." He licked his lips suggestively and she frowned.

She turned to the rest of the team. "Let's go!"

***

Sark entered the codes hurriedly into the rusting keypad.

"You better hope these work..." Sydney growled at him, the rest of the team watched him suspiciously.

"Sydney, in case you haven't noticed, I have been in solitary confinement for the last two years. I could hardly be held responsible if these codes are obsolete."

She narrowed her eyes. "And I'm letting you know I will hold you responsible."

A red light clicked to green and Sark let go a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"See!" he smiled triumphantly.

Lying on her stomach in the sand, Sydney motioned for the teams to move out and they scattered, leaving Sydney and Sark alone.

"Now, let's hope you remember your way to the office."

Sydney went to get up but was stunned momentarily by the weight of Sark's body on top of her.

"What ar..!!" She tried to scream at him, but his hand covered her mouth. He rolled her over so she faced him, but he remained on top of her, his body pressed against hers.

She knew he would try and double cross them. The whole thing had been an act. The prison - the wanting to die. It had all been a facade in order to lure them into a false sense of security so that he could escape.

Sark raised a finger to his lip as if to tell her to be quiet. Raising one palm flat he signaled to her that there were hostiles in the area. She glanced in the direction he signaled. He raised three fingers. She looked at him somewhat guiltily before he rolled off her and back onto his stomach, pulling out his gun and taking aim.

The guards fell with a thud as Sark took them out with a silencer. They waited for several moments before moving out. Sark leading the way and Sydney following grudgingly.

***

The office was dark. Sark's codes had worked to get inside the compound and the other teams had taken out the watchtowers and provided cover.

Sark sat at the computer typing while Sydney kept guard next to him.

"The files are encrypted..."

Sarks voice split the heavy air in the office.

"Copy them and we'll decrypt them later..."

"Already doing it." Sark answered somewhat patronizingly. 'It's going to take a few minutes."

The silence was almost smothering.

"Sydney..." Sark's voice was shaking slightly. Uncertain. "... I know you don't want to hear this, but I... I am sorry, for what happened to Francie... and everything else."

Sydney turned to him violently.

"Oh no you don't." She almost spat the words at him. "You don't get to apologize. You don't get forgiveness."

Sark looked down to the computer again. He didn't know what he had been expecting her to say. But he shouldn't have anticipated anything less.

Silence again, until the computer beeped its completion.

"We're done here." Sark's accent was crisp.

"To the rendezvous point."

Sydney stared him down.

***

They ran through the sand, hurried footsteps kicking up a cloud of shimmering white as the sun began to peak over the horizon.

They were almost at the submarine, and Sydney was somewhat relieved that Sark had not tried to escape. She was doubtful as to whether she would have walked away victorious from their fray.

Sydney heard the gunshot just as Sark felt it, the bullet tearing through his torso and flicking the sand with a spray of dark red.

The team dropped to the ground, returning fire. Sydney spotted a soldier in the bushes and fired, watching sickly as his body rolled down the sand dunes.

The rest of the team took out the remaining guards, and Sydney rushed over to Sark. She knelt beside him, examining his wound.

He smirked at her. "Shame it wasn't you who shot me, Syd."

She turned on her comm unit. "This is Mountaineer, we have an agent down..."

Sydney pressed her hands firmly over Sark's wound, deep crimson blood teaming about her fingers and coagulating in small pools on the pure white sand where he lay.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sydney asked without looking up at him.

Sark thought he heard traces of concern in her voice.

"Why, you worried I won't make it?" He smirked confidently through his pain.

"Yeah, you're the only one who knows how to operate the submarine…"

Sark nodded slowly, but the smirk remained planted on his youthful face. He could feel himself fading slowly into the sand, the edges of his being blurring into the peaceful island scenery.

Ironic that he'd meet his end here, in such a passive, serene setting, with Sydney Bristow hovering concernedly and almost confusingly close above him.

He chuckled slightly as his sharp blue eyes closed softly, laughing at his death, calm and gentle, and such a paradox to the way he had lived.

Sydney almost yelled into her comm unit again. "Repeat, Agent down. We are unable to pilot the submarine, requesting immediate extraction."

She turned to the rest of the team, no-one seemed particularly distressed by Sark's wound. Why would they. If he doesn't get medical attention soon... Sydney halted abruptly as she felt the rise and fall of his chest cease. It will be too late...