"Figures it has to be Nice," Sydney growled as she scanned for any traces of Sark. The last time she had been in Nice was right before she had started her relationship with Vaughn. They had sat inside a café that was a little fancier but not too different than the one she was currently at. Sydney scowled remembering how they had almost agreed to a small romantic tryst in the upstairs hotel that night. It still hurt to think of Vaughn and the roller coaster of emotions he had put her through since she first met him.
She was pulled out of her little mope when she heard someone say Sark's name from somewhere behind her. Scanning all the people who were outside with her, eating their lunches, she tried to locate who was discussing her mission objective.
"Not hard to figure out," she murmured as her eyes rested on two giant men who were looking uncomfortable in the little seats the café had placed in front of the tables. Sydney leaned a little to her left and was pleased to realize the gadget Marshall had given her was working just fine. The small earpiece she wore was a godsend in this situation. It allowed her to zero in on one specific conversation and even amplify the volume as necessary. Which she was quick to do for the conversation occurring between these two men.
She heard Oaf #1 mention Sark again to his companion.
"Don't use his name so freely, Vladimir," said the second Oaf in Russian. "We're not supposed to be even discussing what Mr. Cummings is asking of us in such a public place."
"I just want to be sure I know what we're supposed to be doing tonight," Vladimir insisted.
"You know that we're supposed to let the negotiations go on as planned between our agent and Mr. Sark. If he accepts, we just turn around, go back to the hotel, get a good night sleep, and return to our boss in the morning. If he refuses, we kill him. It's quite simple."
"But we're not allowed to kill any civilians, right, Sergei?"
"Correct. Mr. Cummings will be furious if the body count exceeds one."
Sydney couldn't believe what she was hearing. Obviously, Taylor Cummings didn't want another failure like what had happened when he tried to "recruit" her. "So it was either join up or death for Sark," she said softly to herself as she threw some money down on the table to pay for her lunch.
Hoping that the two men couldn't tell that she was slightly upset by what they were talking about, she made her way through all the café tables and down the street. After a few blocks, she checked to make sure no one was following her and then broke into a run. She wasn't supposed to contact any of her handlers until the whole operation was done. But the information that Sark might be assassinated tonight was too great for her to either ignore or deal with herself.
Luckily, the small American embassy in Nice was rather close to the spot she had chosen to eat her lunch. She flashed her passport and CIA badge without stopping. Five flights of stairs later, she was standing in front of Weiss and Vaughn.
"Sydney? What's the matter?" Vaughn said. Sydney was happy to see she could still cause that infamous worry look to pop up on his face without even trying, without even saying a word.
"I just stumbled upon something really interesting. Information," she said while trying to catch her breath.
"You know you're not supposed to contact us. No matter what, Sydney," Vaughn scolded. He wasn't really interested in knowing what caused her to breech protocol. He just wanted to know why it was so important. This mission was so critical to the CIA that nothing could go wrong. No matter what.
"They're going to kill Sark tonight if he doesn't join them," she said more to Weiss than Vaughn. She had no idea why Vaughn was being so irrational. He had changed a lot over the two years she had been missing, presumed dead. She never got doubts from him on any mission she had ever been on before that time.
"Okay. What are we supposed to do about that, Syd?" Weiss said.
"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "Something. We can't just let the Kindred go in and kill him."
"That's exactly what we're going to do," Vaughn said calmly. "Really it's a win/win situation. Cummings' man goes in and propositions Sark. If Sark accepts, you can intervene and keep the deal from going through. If Sark refuses, he gets killed. He's no longer our problem."
"You just want me to let him die?" She was horrified. "I know there's no good feelings between him and any of us. But I can't just let him be killed. Not if I know I can stop it."
"That's exactly what you're going to do," Weiss said.
"You too?" she screamed. "You want me to let cold-blooded murder happen, too?"
"It's what the U.S. government would order you to do," Weiss pointed out. "They wouldn't want to risk the chance that you get hurt or killed just to save a wanted criminal who's been terrorizing us for years now. Sark isn't that important when he's compared to you. You know we're right about this, Syd."
"I know, I know," she said after a moment as she sat down and put her head in her hands. "Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it." She sighed. "This is not what I signed up for. I signed up to be an agent to keep the country and the world safe from enemies that it didn't even know it had. I didn't sign up to let men be killed when I have the option to stop it."
"What's really going on here, Syd?" Vaughn asked. "I'm sorry to be the one to point this out. But every one of us has let people get killed in front of our faces before. Why is this situation so different?"
"I think I know," Weiss said. "Every situation like this from our past involved people we were aware of, not people we had met and interacted with. As much as we all hate Sark, he's a good opponent. He keeps us on our toes."
Sydney smiled at Weiss. "I knew you'd understand." She stood up from her seat. "I need to get out of here before someone spots me in the embassy. I know what I have to do. Don't worry about me. I'll see you all tomorrow."
As soon as she was a good distance away from the embassy, she stopped walking and sat down on the curb. She couldn't believe that she was going to stand by and watch one of the most intriguing men she had ever met die that very night. As much as she hated to admit, something inside her was changing in regards to this mysterious spy. And that made her scared. Because she knew in the back of her head and her heart, Sark wouldn't accept the Kindred's offer. Which meant he was going to be murdered.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Three hours later, Sydney found herself standing on the beaches of Nice outside a very elegantly lit castle. Even though she had been halfway around the world and back, sights like this still took her breath away. It might have been partially due to the fact that this mission didn't require her to sneak in to any facilities and steal bombs or thermal nuclear detonators. She could almost relax and enjoy the atmosphere, under the circumstances.
"Yeah, I could relax if I wasn't so bothered by the fact that the CIA's ordered me to watch a man be murdered tonight," she muttered to herself as she heard music begin to filter down from the castle. The party must have started. Sighing, she lifted her skirt and began to walk up the narrow steps that led to one of the castles many entrances. She knew that it would have been better, and less suspicious, for her to enter through the main gates, but she really didn't want Sark to know that she had anything to do with the night he was going to die.
So that meant a little stealth.
She slinked up and down the corridors, nodding politely to all the people she past while she constantly scanning for any signs that Sark was in the castle already. The main ballroom was her best shot at spotting him, she decided. Working her way through the crowded dance floor and getting knocked around in the process, she was cursing herself for not getting Marshall to cook her up some device that would help to easily locate Sark. She took a deep breath and sat down at a table that was out of the main traffic of the room.
Realizing that he wasn't there yet, she let herself get engulfed in a heated debate with a Turkish diplomat who had taken a seat next to her at the table. He was trying to convince her that there really weren't any secret organizations in the world. Supposedly they were all cooked up to keep people focused on that dimension of paranoia and keep their attentions off what the elected government officials of the world were doing.
"If he only knew," she thought as she excused herself. "Where is Sark?" she muttered softly.
As if he heard her question, Sydney heard his cocky voice carrying over all the others who were crowded in the room. Sark was standing towards the side of the room very clearly arguing rather passionately with a petite blonde.
"Figures," Sydney whispered and rolled her eyes. "He's about to be propositioned and/or killed, and he's flirting."
Sydney watched him out of the corner of her eye. The petite blonde was coming on rather strong to Sark, and he was obviously enjoying it. "Scum." She watched the woman softly touched the side of Sark's face and was surprised to see him shrug her off. "Weird. Something's not right when Sark is stopping the come-ons of a pretty woman."
The blonde began to raise her voice a little as Sydney took a chance and got a little closer to where Sark was standing. She caught something about producing better connections and a logical choice. When the blonde called him a moron and a complete bastard, Sydney let out a small, quiet laugh. This girl had only been talking to him for a few minutes, and she already had him pegged.
She stopped laughing when she heard Sark tell the blonde that she could go back to Taylor Cummings and tell him to shove his deal in a very delicate place.
"Shit," she muttered. It was obvious now what she had first thought was a simple flirting actually was the business proposition she was supposed to be intercepting. And Sark had just turned it down. Which mean that she was going to be stuck a few feet away from him when he got killed.
Sydney realized that she had a personal choice to make. She could do what the CIA wanted her to do, what she knew was the most logical and profitable solution. Stand by and watch him be killed. Or she could…
"Do what?" she thought to herself. "Go barging in and tell him 'Hey. You're about to be killed. Thought you should know' and then just walk away." She knew if she did that he would just laugh in her face anyway. Whatever she decided she was going to have to do it soon. The men Cummings had sent to kill Sark weren't going to wait around forever for her to make a decision.
That was when her mind recalled something the men had said while discussing their plan earlier that day at the café. And she knew what she had to do.
Smiling at the people she passed, she maneuvered herself behind the pillar Sark was leaning against. This kept her out of his view and allowed her to scan the room. Sure enough, Cummings' men were searching the room for something. Sydney was probably the only one who knew that something was Sark.
Knowing that her next action was going to probably screw everything up for both her and Sark, she took a deep breath and thought it through quickly. When she saw Vladimir and Sergei reach into their coats for their guns, she recognized the time for thought was over.
She quickly grabbed Sark's left hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. He was quick to recover from the shock and pulled her into the tango that was being danced.
"Fancy seeing you here, Agent Bristow," he said as he dipped her. "What brings you to France? A nuclear weapon? Your mother?"
"You actually," she said. She tried to keep them dancing in and out of all the other couples on the floor. Which was hard considering Sark wasn't one to let a lady take control on the dance floor. "For once would you follow my lead?"
"If you insist. Should I be flattered that you came all the way across the pond just to see me?"
"Keep it twirling," she said. She continued to scan the room for Cummings' men. "There are two men out there in the crowd who are getting ready to kill you. You need to stop trying to flirt with me and do what I say."
"Sydney, I can't just turn off the flirting. It doesn't work like that."
"Are you not listening to what I'm saying?" she said chancing a look into his eyes.
"I heard you say that someone was trying to kill me. That's old news. Someone is always trying to kill me. However, this whole you coming to my rescue thing is brand new. It intrigues me." Sydney rolled her eyes and began to look around the room again. "Why are you rescuing me?"
"Because no one should be murdered without at least being warned. I'm doing this solely to clear my conscience. Once I get you out of this room, you're on your own."
"Now we both know that's a lie," Sark said. He dipped her again.
"Keep moving," she hissed as her eyes locked with Sergei. "I think your would-be assassins just recognized me."
Sark leaned over and sniffed her neck. "You smell great. Did you do that for me?"
"Or wouldn't you like it if I had," she said. Seeing an opening, she locked eyes with Sark. "Try to keep up, will you?"
"Is that a challenge?" Sark was definitely enjoying Sydney's take-charge side. "I'm intrigued by you, Agent Bristow."
"Now that's old news," she said with a laugh as she began to spin herself and Sark across the whole dance floor. They moved so fast that she was sure that Cummings men wouldn't be able to keep track of their position.
"I think we lost them," she said, a little out of breath. She pointed down the hallway. "Go that way. Take the last left. There will be a door at the end of that corridor. It will take you straight outside. There will be a small path that leads down to the beach. That's how I got in here. You should be pretty safe from there."
"You're really going to leave me to fend for myself?" he said giving her a sad face.
"Yes. I'm already beginning to wonder why I went against CIA orders to save you."
Sark's face lit up in surprise. "You went against orders? You didn't mention that before."
Sydney swore to herself, realizing the mistake she had just made. "Go, Sark."
As she turned to leave, she felt his hand grasp her arm and push her against the wall. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed.
He didn't have time to answer as gunshots filled the corridor. "I think they found me, Agent Bristow."
The gunshots stopped suddenly. Figuring they needed to reload, Sydney grabbed his hand and began to pull him down the corridor. "Why the hell do you call me Agent Bristow so much?" she called back to him.
"It's one of my theories," he said as she took the left turn she had mentioned before. "An opponent's position is weakened if you keep bringing his or her name into the conversation. It gives me an advantage."
"So every time you've called me Agent Bristow, it's been your way of weakening me," she said. "I should just leave you to fend for yourself."
"Now, Agent Bri--" Recognizing what he was doing, he stopped himself. Sydney dropped his hand and opened the door at the end of the corridor. Together, they rushed through the doorway and slammed it shut behind them.
Sydney began to make her way down the narrow steps she had been ascending not an hour earlier. Halfway down, Sark grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the side. She didn't protest too much. The cliff's sides and the foliage covering it gave them enough protection against being seen.
"Listen. I want you to know a few things. If those men catch up with us, I'm not going to protect you from them," he said sternly. "You chose to get into this situation. You can find your way out of it."
"Well, at least I know that you really are the bastard I thought you were. I saved your life back there and your way of repaying me is to say that if I lag behind you're going to leave me." She sent him a cool glare and turned to continue walking down the cliff path.
Sark grabbed her arm and pulled her back. "I think I need to explain something else to you, too," he said. "I've never tried to weaken you. Never. Know that."
"You just said two minutes ago that you have."
"You assumed," he said with a smirk.
"Get that goddamn smirk off your mouth before I knock it off myself."
His smirk only got wider. "That's why I enjoy your company so much. You're one of the few women who won't put up with me. It's fascinating."
Sydney just glared at him.
"You only let me tell you half my theory. The half you didn't hear was the half that pertained to you. I call you Agent Bristow so much because it helps me establish a connection with you. I've always seen you as someone who gets me. You understood exactly who I am and why I do what I do."
"You're deluding yourself, Sark. I know nothing about you. Nothing," she hissed.
"You know everything about me because you're just like me, Agent Bristow."
She couldn't help but smile at him calling her Agent Bristow. "You really can't help it?"
"It's a routine now. I can't not call you Agent Bristow."
She rolled her eyes. "I don't get you. One second you act like a complete prick towards me and the next you're flirting again." She let out a soft puff of breath. "You should get out of here before Cummings' men find you."
"The same goes for you. They know who you are. They know you're helping me. You're a target."
"And if you're not going to save me, I need to save myself. Is that what you're trying to say?"
Both of them began to descend the stairs at a less frantic pace than before.
They walked in complete silence all the way down the stairs and onto the beach. It appeared like they had lost their two, large Russian enemies.
"Was your conscience the only reason you saved me?" Sark asked.
"Yes," she said quickly. He raised his eyebrow at her. "No. There were a lot of reasons. The biggest one is that I felt like I still owed you from Rio."
"I thought we agreed that our acts of good faith canceled each other out."
"That was before I realized how big a favor you did by rescuing me. Taylor Cummings, the same man who propositioned you tonight, employed the men who were chasing me in Rio. You kept me out of his clutches. If those men had caught me, I probably would have end up losing at least another two years of my life. Which would not have been too fun."
"I doubt if they would have been able to keep hold of you for long, Sydney," Sark said. "Holding you hostage is twice as hard as capturing you. I speak from experience."
Sydney laughed. "Do you realize how bizarre this is?"
Sark shook his head. "What do you mean?"
"You. Me. Walking along a beach in Nice. Having a real conversation." She paused. "Without guns or fighting. I think this might be the first time you and I have ever talked without me punching you."
"If it makes you feel better, you can hit me," Sark offered.
"Don't tempt me." The two walked in silence for a little longer. Sydney was still trying to process how the CIA would handle her insubordination. Sighing, she turned to Sark, "This sounds crazy. But would you mind if I pretended that you caught me doing surveillance on you in there? It would be a lot easier if I could tell the CIA that you put a gun to my head to escape that situation alive."
"Then, like every other time I've held a gun to your head, you beat me up and escaped?" he asked with a spark of glee in his face. "Does this mean I get to hit you a few times to make it convincing?"
"No, but it means that I get to hit you." Sydney smiled and began to walk ahead of Sark a little.
Sydney wasn't sure what exactly happened. One minute she was turning to say something to Sark and the next she was face down on the rocks with a shooting pain going up her leg.
She looked up and saw Sark firing a few rounds into the rocks above them. His lips were moving but she couldn't tell what he was trying to say to her. The pain was clouding her vision and her hearing. As Sark stopped firing his gun and came over to look at Sydney, she felt her eyes roll back into her head. The last thing she remembered was feeling him pick her up and then everything went black.
