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

PART TWELVE

The food tasted like ash in her mouth and Sydney unwillingly spat it back out on the plate.

Weiss' eyes darted up at her concernedly, but he didn't say anything. If there was one thing Sydney hated it was sympathy - pity. So he gave her silence. A strong, supportive silence he knew she needed.

She put her fork down on the plate, sighing and shifting in her seat.

"I don't know what it is Weiss. I mean, I know I should be glad that he's dead... he is... was a terrorist. He killed people. But I'm not. I'm... I mourn him."

Weiss nodded slowly and knowingly.

"Sydney... I know what you mean. Sark was a friend. Well, not a friend as in I'd invite him out for a drink, but he was... okay."

"Yeah..." Sydney nodded slowly as a tear slipped down her cheek. Weiss pretended he didn't see it - just like Sydney would have wanted him to."

***

Tarra Moore circled Sark predatorily.

"You know how long it took me to escape from the Triad?" She didn't look at him, instead stroking a scalpel almost admiringly.

"I take it that's a rhetorical question."

She looked at him suddenly - her eyes flashing with malice.

"It must be hard, Mr Sark. Being the funny man - the wise guy..."

"Surprisingly, not that many people find me amusing..." He shrugged slightly and mockingly, trying not to move too much - fearful his bullet wound would cause further pain.

She walked closer to him.

"Don't you ever get tired of it? The constant facade?" Her eyes were suddenly serious and sad and Sark bit his lip to stop tears from forming.

He knew exactly what she meant. They were such similar creatures Moore and himself - interminably bound to a life that offered no chance of truth, no chance of love - constantly lying, deceiving, killing, hating. Sark often wondered if when he was done with this life there would be anything left of him - not of Mr Sark the espionage agent and assassin for hire, but of himself, his true self - whoever that was anymore.

Her archaic eyes held that question, every aspect of it and all that it entailed was mirrored in those tumultuous, primeval orbs.

She shook her head slightly, as if ridding herself of thought and raised her shirt again. Sark looked at the scars tracked across her stomach, each one wide and newly healed, their raised surface lighter than her golden skin.

"What they did to me..."

Sark watched her teeth bite down on her bottom lip until deep crimson blood trickled from it.

"It's your fault, Sark."

He looked up at her from where he laid. He was truly sorry for what happened to her... but he couldn't express it. His face remained impassive.

Tarra's voice trembled. "It took three months before I managed to escape - and that was only when the Covenant came to take over the Triad's operations in Beijing. Now I gotta work for them, you know, as pay back. So I'm still not free."

She shook her head again.

"Three months..."

Tears welled in her eyes and she palmed them away violently, stepping right beside Sark.

"They bled me of every bit of information I had - literally."

She grabbed his shoulders suddenly and ferociously, shaking him violently. "Three months!!"

Tarra dropped to her knees sobbing.

She looked so much like a young girl - lost, confused - rather than the international terrorist he knew her to be. Sark reached for her hand and gripped it tightly as if he was afraid that if he let her go the Tarra Moore he knew would completely slip away and all that would be left was this shell of a woman - this woman he knew he couldn't take. Anger, hatred, revenge - these were all things he could handle - all emotions he was familiar with. But this....

"I hate you..." Tarra's sobs shook her body.

He moved slowly onto his side, tipping her chin up to face him with his free hand, his other still holding hers tightly.

Her beautiful eyes opened slowly and he stared into them, his own arctic coloured eyes reflecting his emotions.

"I'm so sorry Tarra..."

She held his gaze for a moment before looking away suddenly, pulling her hand from his grasp as if she were disgusted by his touch.

"You don't get to be sorry Sark. Not for this. You get to pay... and you will." Tarra's voice faltered only slightly.

She walked away shakily but confident. The Tarra Sark was familiar with had returned and for a moment he found himself preferring the sobbing little girl.

He figured she had gone to compose herself - for someone like Tarra Moore - for someone like himself - emotions were seen as weaknesses, and weaknesses can be exploited. She would not want Sark to see these weaknesses for this expressed purpose.

He ran a hand through his hair exasperatedly, his fingers halting on the small, smooth disc on his temple.

He reached for his other temple - but it was bare.

If he could find the other disc he could contact Sydney...

He knew the chances of her helping him were slight - non-existent, almost. But he had to try.

He glanced around the room hurriedly. It was possible Moore had no clue as to what the disc were and the other one had simply slipped off. He looked to the floor and his suspicions were proven.

A wry smile tickled at the corners of his mouth as he watched the small circle glittering under the fluorescent lights.

Sark moved slowly to the ground and the stitches holding his gunshot wound busted. Funny that Moore would fix him up only to kill him. He winced, but grabbed the disc, pressing it against his temple. A moment later he felt a tingle in his head, as if his hair was reaching for the ceiling. A glance toward the two-way mirror told him that it was.

"Ick... I look like Agent Vaughn." Sark screwed his face and forehead up to further the effect.

He pursed his lips exaggeratedly and impersonated Vaughn in a deep, if dumb voice. "Be careful, Sydney..."

He hoped no-one was watching behind the mirror - not because he was afraid they would see him activate the disc - he did not want anyone seeing his Vaughn-like moment.

He flattened his hair again with his hands, awaiting the slight ringing noise that would indicate the disc's activation.

***

Sydney lay in bed - not quite sleeping but not awake. She drifted in a twilight state of mind - resting enough to ensure she would not exhaust, but alert enough to detect danger - attentive, watchful. She wasn't sure why but ever since she had returned from wherever she had been for two years she had been ever vigilant - ever alert. Never asleep - never letting her guard down.

She rolled over as she felt a tingle in her head, and suddenly her hair went static, clinging to the Weiss' sheets.

Weiss had let Sydney stay at his place and he had let her have his bed, she could hear his moans of discomfort from the couch. She sat up, climbing from the electricity of the bed.

Her fingers felt the discs still on her temples. She hadn't wanted to take them off - somehow, however faintly, they had made her feel connected to Sark, like he wasn't dead, like they were part of each other... forever.

Now, as she heard a ringing sound increasing in crescendo echoing around her skull, her heart leapt.

He was alive, Sark was alive. And she was going to save him.

***

"Save him? Sydney are you insane?" Weiss looked at her incredulously, fidgeting with the bottom of his pajama shirt nervously.

'Quite possibly... But I know I have to do this. Weiss, you have done... so much for me. You are my best friend, and I love you. I do not want you to do anything you don't want to. And I don't want you to do this for me - if you are going to help, you need to do it for Sark. For the belief that... that people can change - if they're given a chance."

Weiss looked to the ground, his voice soft. "Sydney I can't believe that you would..."

He paused and Sydney's breath caught.

"I can't believe that you would even need to ask... I'm in." He looked up at her and winked. Sydney smiled widely.

You hear that Sark? We're on our way.

Sydney, I don't know what to say...

But Sark didn't need to say anything - he was thinking everything. And Sydney knew at once how sorry he was, how grateful he was, how much he longed to change. And she smiled.

Life wasn't black and white. People weren't black and white - good and evil - right and wrong. She knew that now. There were many shades of grey - and she was about to become one.

"You know..." Weiss said slowly. "We are going to need two more agents, at least..."

"I know..."

"Got anyone in mind...?"

Sydney breathed in deeply. "I just hope they'll say yes."

***

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" Sydney looked at Marshall questioningly. He hadn't stammered, he hadn't even halted. He hadn't rambled on about the time he was picked last in gym class for the softball team or how his grandma used to make him sing Elvis Costello songs for her retirement village's bridge group.

"It's like in Star Wars when Luke just knows that it's his destiny to fight Vader, you know? Even though he was from Tatooine and lived on that farm in the desert, and he wasn't really, you know, able to join the resistance and stuff, but he did, and then he blew up the Death Star and it was like pew pew pew ca-cherrrrrrr". Marshall imitated the sound of the exploding Death Star and Sydney leaned forward and hugged him tightly.

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "So that would make Moore Darth Vader?"

"Well, a younger, hotter, more... womanly Darth Vader, but yeah... basically" Marshall blushed.

"One down..." Sydney crinkled her mouth up. "One to go..."

***


"No.."

"Vaughn..."

"Absolutely not Sydney... And I can not let you go either. We traded Sark with Moore, the CIA will not sanction a mission that counters..."

Sydney cut him off with a raised hand. "The CIA doesn't have to sanction it..."

"Sydney.."

"Vaughn no, if you don't want in, fine, but you are not going to stop me."

"Weiss, tell her..."

"Tell her what Vaughn? What do you want me to tell her this time? I'm sick of covering for you, I'm sick of making excuses, trying to explain your behaviour..."

"Weiss... it's Sark..."

"Yeah Vaughn, it's Sark. So what?" Weiss' eyes leveled with his friends, challenging, but also pleading.

Sydney pouted at Vaughn ferociously. Vaughn looked from Sydney top Weiss to Marshall, his eyes indecisive.

"Sydney, I have supported all your decisions thus far, and I'm not about to stop now. You know I'll be with you on this if you are certain this is what you want to to do..." Vaughn's eyes were guilty and his eyes flickered to his wedding ring. So did Sydney's.

"It's what I have to do."

"Fine, but I'd like it to be noted that I am only going along to make sure nothing happens to you - or Moore."

Marshall stepped up to Vaughn, his face lifted and his chest puffed out.

"So noted."

"Okay..." Sydney broke the tension.

"I'm gonna call in a few favours, see if I can't get us a chopper and weapons, Weiss, Vaughn, I need you to get in touch with your contacts in the region. We need at least a 5 minute window to get around the security surveillance at The Farm. Marshall, I need you to create another device - no more brainwaves stuff though, that can like, I don't know, silence our radio waves and something like a remote control..."

"Well..." Marshall chuffed. "Since that mission I have been working on a little something, you know, that mission with you and Mr Sark sort of gave me the idea, and the remote control - piece of proverbial cake my dear" Marshall couldn't keep the pride from creeping into his voice.

"Perfect! The operation will take place in three strategic phases:

Phase one - during our 5 minute window - we air drop into The Farm perimeter. We split up -..."

"Wait.. split up?" Marshall's voice was unsteady.

"Yeah, Weiss, Vaughn and I will disable defenses - that's phase two... Marshall I need you to wait by the perimeter. "

Marshall's face fell slightly.

"I need you in place to initiate phase three of the operation... During this phase Sark will attempt an escape - he may or may not be successful, either way, we're gonna be there to extract him - that's phase four."

How long is this gonna take?

"Shut up."

"What?" Vaughn wrinkled his brow.

"Not you, Sark." Sydney shook her head dismissively.

"That's kinda weird." Vaughn's brow wrinkled further.

Marshall feared the gravitational pull of the deep crevices would suck them all in.

"Yeah..." Weiss also crinkled his face.

"All right team..." Sydney smiled. "Let's move out."