Her reflection in the mirror was not too pleasant, Sydney decided after much thought. Her hair wasn't very glamorous, just the normal brown, straight as a pin hair. Going on so many missions with so many great wigs spoiled her. She had never hated the way her hair looked before she began going on missions for SD-6. Right now, she was yearning for a really nice short, reddish brown wig that had slowly become her favorite. Though she had a soft spot in her heart for the bright red and punk purple ones.
Trying to stop the gigantic hair pout she was spiraling down, she turned her attention to her clothes. She was wearing a pair of sweats and a T-shirt she managed to pilfer from the one set of drawers Both were plain grey and had a rugby logo and the words 'Oxford Rugby' printed on them. She imagined that these were Sark's old clothes.
"Not only do I imagine," she whispered to herself, "I'm wishing they're his old clothing. What the hell is coming over me? And why the hell am I so nervous and fidgety?"
She rolled the pants up a few more inches so they weren't dragging on the ground too much. The t-shirt didn't give her much room to work with, so it just looked way too large. She wanted to smack herself for all the fussing at her appearance she was doing.
"Don't worry. You look good," said a voice from the doorway.
"Sark," Sydney said as she turned. "I didn't hear you knock."
"I didn't knock," he said smugly as he took a seat on the bed. "This is my house. I shouldn't have to."
"But you should show me the courtesy since I'm your guest."
"You're not my guest. You're my partner, Agent Bristow."
"If we're partners, Sark, you should call me Sydney."
"But Agent Bristow sounds so much sexier," he said with a smirk. "As much as I love the banter we seem to produce so readily…" He paused for emphasis, "…Agent Bristow, what did you want to talk with me about?"
"A million things. I want to know when you found out about Weiss. I want to know why you were watching my life so closely. I want to know what your real goal is with this investigation. I want to know your true reasoning for hating the Covenant and why you're still bankrolling their operations. I want to know if you're really going to let me go when this is all over."
"You want, you want, you want," Sark whispered, grinning at her.
"But mostly, I want to know if you played Rugby at Oxford."
Sark looked at her in surprise. "Where did that one come from, Sydney?"
She laughed. "You called me Sydney. I really did shake you up with that one, didn't I?" She pointed down at her apparel. "I've been ruining around in these for a few days now. I was just curious if my hunch about them being yours is right. And my curiosity has slowly started to drive me crazy."
"I don't want to tell you," he said. Seeing her face turn into a pout, he couldn't help but chuckle. "That pout isn't going to work on me. I'm too tough a spy. I don't want to let you know because I will lose my dangerous, mysterious man angle that's worked so well for me so far."
"You will always be dangerous in my eyes, Sark," she said taking a seat on the floor. "You went to Oxford, didn't you?"
"For two years, yes, I did. I was the best rugby player they had seen in ten years, I'd have you know. Too bad I got mixed up in the whole spy thing and left university." Sark smiled at her. "What question do you want me to answer next?"
"Explain to me how long you knew Weiss was working as a double agent. And maybe explain why I never caught on."
"You never caught on because you didn't want to catch on. Since the day I met you, you've intrigued me. That's one of the reasons. You're so cynical at times, but then you turn around and show such naiveté. I kept tabs on you and the people in your life to satisfy my curiosity."
"I always knew you were the creepy stalker type."
"I don't think that makes me a stalker. I mean, I didn't stand outside your window and watch you sleep. Well, there was that one time…" Seeing her shocked look, he almost doubled over with laughter. "I'm kidding. When you returned from your missing two years, I could tell right away that you were in desperate need of a lifeline."
"You could tell all that from behind a pane of Plexiglas."
"I could tell all that within seconds of seeing you for the first time. You wear your pain on your face, Sydney. Any moron could tell that you were in agony. You needed Weiss to be your lifeline at the time. I didn't know of his affiliations or else I would have warned you then. I just figured out he was working for the Covenant three weeks ago."
"Why the hell would you have warned me? Let's not pretend that you give a damn about me or my feelings."
"That's true. I have to look out for me and my interests first. But I still don't like to see you hurt. You're too good of an opponent. I don't want you to get screwed up so you can't play with me anymore."
"So, then, why did you wait all this time to tell me about Weiss? I've been here for a little over two weeks."
"Because I didn't want you to bolt. Your leg needs to heal." He paused. "Speaking of, I have good news. Your cast is going to be taken off tomorrow."
"Isn't it a little too soon for that? Broken legs take more than two weeks to heal."
"The drugs my doctors have been injecting in your leg speed up the healing process. It has something to do with your blood and the bone marrow in your leg, I think. All I know is it's the reason that I'm always at the top of my game. I get shot, the wound is healed by the end of the week. That's something that we're going to need to keep between us, by the way."
"My lips are sealed," she said. "I always wondered why you never seemed to be in pain for two long."
"So you do wonder about me?" he asked.
"Slip of the tongue. Never happen again," she said smiling but not making eye contact with him. "I have so many questions for you, Sark. I know you don't have time to answer them all though. Your whole life can't be devoted to helping me sort out the mess I've made of mine. Hell, even if I asked, you wouldn't give me help."
"Are you dismissing me?"
"No. I'm just pointing out the fact that you are probably too polite to tell me you have better things to do."
"You actually think I'm polite. The drugs must be starting to go to your head. I do have important things to do. But your questions are just as important for reasons I'm not going to say right now. And to answer one of them, my master plan does extend past taking down the Covenant. But we'll leave that as a mystery for now." Sark stood up. "I have a question for you, Sydney Bristow."
"Lay it on me."
"Do you still want me to keep out of your daily life?" he asked frankly. "You seemed a little too excited to see me today. Makes me think you might be going a little stir crazy without me."
"No, I don't want you to stay away. I think this 'partnership', as you call it, won't be completely effective unless I know what you're up to. Plus, I'm still a U.S. spy. I feel the need to keep tabs on you."
"Okay. So then my next suggestion shouldn't upset you too much. Your leg will be out of its cast tomorrow. I propose that each day I go for a walk with you. During the time we go for a walk, you can ask me as many questions as you want. I'll answer any of them that I can. That should keep you out of my business and allow you a time to ask your questions."
"Why are you doing this? You're acting so strange."
"I think I understand what you mean. Like I said, I fear that you're going to bolt the first chance you get. I don't think I'll ever be convinced that you're not searching for an escape route. That won't work well with my plan. So I need you here until your leg has healed." Sark walked over to the door. "Get some rest, Sydney."
She stretched out on the bed and cuddled a pillow up against her. "You intrigue me," she said as he walked through the open doorway.
"Same to you," he answered before shutting the door.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
For the first few days, Sydney kept the conversation light. She tried to slowly weasel out some personal information on Sark the person rather than his objectives. It was no lie when she told him he intrigued her. And she wanted to know more.
On the fourth day, Sark brought her a present. She smiled and took it from him.
"What is this for?"
"I thought you could use it," he answered simply. "You're starting to smell."
Sydney opened the box to reveal a pair of sweatpants, another Oxford Rugby t-shirt, a long sleeve white shirt, and a new pair of trainers.
"You look so good in my clothes that I didn't want to get you anything else."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Sark smiled at her. "Get changed. We're going outside today."
"Outside?" she said. Her eyes widened at the prospect of leaving the house.
"I figured it was about time you got some fresh air. The only condition is if I let you out of the house, you have to start asking me the questions you really want the answers to. No more of this beating around the bloody bush. Oh. And no trying to run away when we get outside these walls."
"Agreed," Sydney said. Before she could stop herself, she gave Sark a quick kiss on the cheek and ran into the bathroom to change. She emerged a few minutes later.
"Beautiful," he said with a smile. "Are you ready?"
"Where are we going?" She asked as they walked down out of her bedroom door, down the hall, and descended the front stairs.
"Hyde Park," he answered honestly. "It's got some excellently laid out paths which will be a great place for you to exercise that leg."
"I don't know if I can walk far enough to reach the park," she admitted. Sark only held the door open for her and smiled. She stared in amazement at what was across the street.
"Who says that it's that long of a walk?" he said with a smirk.
"I have been living across the street from Hyde Park and didn't even know it. How the hell did you keep this from me?"
"You have a love of Hyde Park?" he asked.
"My father took me here to cheer me up when we thought my mother died. He said it was her favorite spot in the world. I assume that was a lie. Most of what I once knew about her was."
"It wasn't," Sark said, looking at her through the corner of his eye.
Sydney glanced at him in astonishment for a moment. "I always forget that you had a close relationship with my mother."
"The only relationship I've ever had," Sark added. "Don't go spreading rumors that I actually have a friend." They walked in silence for a minute before Sark explained why he knew that little tidbit about her mother. "There was a reason that I purchased this house five years ago. Your mother loved this park so much that I wanted to give her a place to stay that was close by. Haven't the heart to move now that your mother has gone 'missing'."
"I assumed she had contacted you when you were released from CIA custody," Sydney said. "She didn't?"
"No. Irina has her reasons. I just don't know them yet."
"Is that another reason why you wanted me to become your partner?"
"It was in the back of my head." Sark saw her stumble slightly and grabbed her arm. "Why don't you cut the brave act and lean on me, Sydney? I know you're hurting."
She nodded and put her hand on his left shoulder. "Can I ask you a question?"
"That was the deal we made. You walk while I talk."
"How are my friends and family doing?"
"Well, they are still searching for you. They refuse to believe that you're dead. It seems you've gotten a slight reputation at the CIA. It appears you're completely indestructible."
"I have come back from the dead quite a few times."
"That idiot, Michael Vaughn, isn't one of those still searching, though. He gave up on you again. I always said that he wasn't worthy of all the attention you gave him."
"You and my father have a lot in common," she said. "He never liked Vaughn either."
"So not only do I remind you of your dead fiancé, but I'm also similar to your father?" Sark shook his head. "You have one screwed up way of thinking."
"People tell me that. I think it fits my life perfectly," she said with a laugh. "My leg's starting to hurt. I think we should head back."
Sark nodded and turned them around.
"This situation you've put me in isn't good for me," Sydney said without meeting his eyes. "My opinion of you is changing. Changing into something that I know isn't true. I keep thinking that you're not the cold-blooded murderer I always saw you as."
"But I am, Sydney. I am."
"I know that in the back of my head. But you've been so nice to me that last three weeks. I can't squash this new side of you. Plus, I always seem to want to seek out the innate goodness in a person."
"Well, you keep trying as hard as you want. But I don't think I have any goodness in me."
"You saved me in Rio, didn't you?"
"I didn't do that out of the goodness of my heart. I did that to get myself where I wanted to be."
"And I know that. But I keep wanting to create this fictional image of you."
"Go ahead. Just know that one day soon that image is going to come crashing down. Because I am not the man you've created. I won't ever be."
Sydney stopped leaning on his shoulder and started to walk by herself. "I think my leg's feeling better. Thanks." Looking around, she added, "You know it's almost as if we're on a deserted island together."
"How so?"
"Well, no one knows we're here together. No one can save us from our predicament. You've created our own little bubble. In it, we can do whatever you want."
Sark grabbed her hand and stopped her from walking. "And what do you want, Agent Bristow? You've been dancing around that issue for weeks now."
She looked into his eyes but couldn't read any emotion. "I don't know yet."
"It scares you, doesn't it?" He said as he let go of her hand and began to walk again.
"What?" she asked.
"The fact that you're beginning to want something you know you shouldn't have and couldn't want."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The next morning, Sydney was surprised by a knock on her door at least an hour before she was prepared to get up. Groggily, she slid a sweatshirt on. No matter how half-asleep she was, there was no way she was going to answer the door in just her underwear.
She slid the door open slightly and was surprised to see not one of Sark's many domestic employees but the man himself.
"What do you want at this ungodly hour?" she half mumbled, half slurred.
"I thought you might want to go for breakfast and then maybe a small walk. Something not to taxing on your leg," he suggested, holding a water bottle out to her innocently.
Doing her best to focus her eyes, she took in his appearance for the first time. He was definitely not dressed in one of his trademark suits. Instead he was wearing trackies and a rather old looking T-shirt. This was clearly not his usual style, but Sydney had to admit that she didn't mind the change.
She opened the door the rest of the way to let him in. "You're one of those guys who look incredible in anything," she muttered as she made her way to the bathroom.
"It's a gift," he said as he took a seat on one of the leather chairs.
"I'll be out in a minute," she said as she disappeared into the bathroom.
As soon as the door shut completely, she found herself swearing softly to no one in particular. For some unknown reason, she didn't like the fact that Sark was able to catch her so off guard. She had gotten so used to him being an unspoken present that it threw her off to have him suddenly be a part of her daily life. She knew she'd have to get herself used to it. She looked down at her leg in frustration.
Sark pulled out his phone and started to make some business calls as he heard the shower begin to run. After about fifteen minutes, he vaguely heard Sydney emerge from the bathroom.
"I'm ready for a nice plate of waffles with strawberries and blueberries," she said with a smile.
He nodded and got off the phone rather quickly. As they left her bedroom, Sark couldn't help but make a snarky comment. "I bet you can put away quite a few waffles."
Sydney laughed. "How did you know?"
"You look like the kind of girl that can eat tons and tons of food and never gain a pound."
"It's the lifestyle," she said with a smile as they descended the stairs. "Where are we going?"
"I'm going to take you to my favorite dinner down the street. Now, understand. This is a privilege I am all too willing to take away."
"It's a privilege, huh?"
Sark smiled at her and held the front door open. "You won't believe me until you eat their food. But once you've tasted the cooking, you'll never want to go to another restaurant for breakfast. So it would be pure torture for me to take it away from you." He paused and looked thoughtful. "Come to think of it. I think I'll just take away the privilege just to see you suffer."
"You would, wouldn't you?" Sydney glared at him and then smiled. "Good to know you're still a complete bastard."
"Your words of love touch me, Bristow."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Sydney couldn't believe she was doing this.
It had all started when Sark admitted to her over morning coffee that he had never had a proper Italian pizza. After getting over her initial disbelief, she scolded him for never partaking in the cuisine when he was on missions in Italy and the surrounding areas. It was near impossible to not have pizza when you were in Italy, so she still didn't quite understand how he had avoided it.
How that had led to her cooking him a pizza in the little used kitchen of his house, she had no idea. There a massive mess of flour, tomatoes, cheese, vegetables, and dirty dishes surrounded her. But at least there was one glorious pizza with the works cooking in the oven.
Now she just had to wait for Sark to come back from whatever errand he had run off on this time.
"Have you gone domestic on me?" she heard someone ask from the kitchen doorway.
"I think I have," she said with a smile and a wag of her eyebrows. "Pizza."
"You made me pizza? I think I may have to marry you now."
"I have one extremely opinionated father who would not be happy hearing that."
Sark sat down on one of the kitchen stools and grabbed a piece of pepperoni that was sitting on the counter. "Your father is the scariest man I have ever met."
"He would take that as a compliment," Sydney said as she took a seat next to him.
"I bet he would. So what's with the sudden need to cook?"
"Well, I was appalled yesterday when you said you had never really eaten a proper pizza. So I found my way down to the nearest grocery and picked up some supplies." She looked at him mischievously. "Or maybe I should just tease you with it instead of actually letting you eat it."
"You've been thinking of a way to get revenge since the diner incident, huh?"
"Damn straight!" she exclaimed. "Is it going to work?"
"With the way that pizza smells, I'd say yes."
Sydney left the room for a moment and came back in with a stack of papers. She threw them down in front of Sark as she took her seat again. "Here are the files you left for me this morning. All analyzed."
"Very efficient. Thank you."
"I honestly don't know why I'm doing this for you."
"Because if you weren't, I'd have to kick you out on the curb and you'd miss my incredible charm."
"Bullshit," she muttered as she stood up to remove the pizza carefully from the oven. "All done." She set it right in front of Sark and cut it into four massive pieces. "Now pay attention. This is what makes you and I so different. Even thought I know how much fun it would be to taunt you, I'm going to let you eat it alone with me."
Sark looked at her intently. "For once, I wish I could see you act like a complete bastard. It would be fun."
"Keep annoying me and you will."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
"I almost feel like I'm dating you," Sydney blurted out nervously on their second week of walking together.
"How so?" Sark asked her, taking the question as a reason to take a small break.
"Well, we've become almost domestic with one another. You wake me up every morning and we get some breakfast in that absolutely fabulous diner. Then you go off to work, leaving me at home. You come home either with dinner or you take me out. I feel like I'm married to you."
"And is that a bad thing?"
Sydney glared at him. "Did you ever notice that you almost always answer me with a question? It's quite annoying."
"And is that a problem?"
"Now you're doing it on purpose."
"True." Sark started to walk again and Sydney rushed to catch up. "I'm just trying to make your stay here comfortable. I know you're grappling with some hard topics. Your only friend in the world being a spy for the Covenant and all. I just thought you could use someone being nice to you while you're pretending to be dead."
"You're trivializing the situation."
"I'm trying to keep this situation from getting too heavy. I've seen agents destroyed by a hell of a lot less than what you're facing. We may be on opposite sides, but I don't want you to be wrecked by this. I've never found an opponent as fascinating and frustrating as you. I'd like to keep it like that."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was meant as one."
The two walked in silence for a few minutes before Sydney responded. "You know, I always thought of you in the same way." He looked at her with a little surprise in his eyes. "Don't be so stunned. You're a very good opponent, too, you know. I always enjoyed the little confrontations we had on missions."
"I bet you even enjoyed the missions we went on together at SD-6."
"No, those were infuriating. I think we work better on opposite sides."
"I would disagree, but we won't get into that right now. Keep complimenting me, please."
"You are so conceited."
"Yes, I am. Your point?"
She couldn't help but laugh at his candidness. "You're good though," she admitted. "Not as good as me, but good all the same. I actually would find myself getting excited when I realized that we were both at the same location trying to acquire the same thing. You were always a challenge."
"And you always enjoyed kicking the crap out of me, right?"
"It was a perk. I'll confess to that."
"You know you don't have to go back to the CIA," Sark said abruptly.
"Where did that come from?"
"I just thought you'd want to know that you had the option. Of staying here and helping me. If you wanted."
"You sound almost nervous. Are you afraid I'll take you up on your offer?" Sydney wasn't surprised to get no response from him. He never really liked to get that deep into a conversation about his fears. She had realized that slowly through the past few weeks. "Rest easy. I'm not going to stay with you. No matter what."
"You still feel like you have a home at the CIA," he stated more than asked.
Sydney let the observation sink in as they reached the front door of Sark's home. As he opened the door for her, she finally commented on it. "You don't think that the CIA is my home anymore."
"Admit it. It hasn't really felt right to you since you've returned from your missing two years."
"That's just because I'm still getting used to the fact that I lost two years of my life. It's taking a little time for me to readjust."
Sark patted her cheek lightly and whispered, "You just keep telling yourself that. Eventually, you'll believe it."
Sydney watched in shock as he walked away from her. When he was almost out of sight, she found her voice and yelled, "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you don't know anything about my life."
He turned around and winked at her as he continued to walk backwards.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The weeks flew by as Sydney's leg began to heal. Every morning, like clockwork, Sark appeared at her door and they went on a walk. When they were done, he dropped her off at the door of her room and handed her a file folder. She analyzed the material and handed it back to him the following morning. It was routine. It was simple. Or at least it should have been.
The only thing that shattered her routine was her emotions. For the first week, she tried to deny it. For the second week, she tried to hide it. For the third week, she tried to end it. On the first day of the fourth week, she hastily admitted to it. Somewhere down the line, she had started to like the one man she had every reason to hate.
When he came to pick her up in the first morning of that fourth week, he immediately noticed that something was different. He ignored it, though. If she wanted to tell him, she would. He had no reason to want to pressure information out of her. At least now when he could get her to admit it to him of her own free will.
They walked in silence out of the building and across the street. When they reached their normal park bench, Sydney sat down without saying a word.
"Your leg seems to be doing better, Syd," Sark said. Slowly he had dropped the habit of calling her Agent Bristow. Then, as they became more and more familiar with each other, he had shortened her name like all of her friends had done in the past. It should have made Sydney made, but it didn't. Not at all.
"I think it's almost healed." She paused, letting the statement's full meaning sink in for both her and Sark. "I'll be leaving soon."
Sark nodded and stared at the children who were playing a puddle across from them. He only turned back to Sydney when he heard her sniffle and saw her hand come up to wipe tears away from her eyes.
"What's wrong?" he asked. He was slightly taken aback that he actually wanted to know the answer.
She sighed and then started to laugh. "It's nothing." She got up from the bench and began to walk further into the park.
"It's not nothing," Sark said as he ran to catch up with her. "Why don't you tell me?"
He expected her to refuse to tell him. He expected some sarcastic remark about him having no right to pry into her personal feelings. At the very least he expected a scowl. What he got was extremely unexpected.
Sydney began to hit him rather hard and rather fast in the chest.
For the pure reason of saving himself from too many bruises, he struggled to grab her arms. When he had both of her wrists pinned against his chest with one hand, he felt her begin to cry again.
"What is going on inside your head?" he wondered mostly to himself.
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and realized, no matter how good a liar she had become over the years, she couldn't dance her way out of this situation.
"This breaks all the rules I've ever set for myself. For the first time in years, I'm lost in my damn emotions. And I don't like it."
"You're not making any sense, Syd," he said with a laugh.
"This isn't funny. I was not supposed to fall in love with you." She watched as his eyes widened in disbelief and he loosened his grip on her wrists. She shrugged out of the hold on his arms and turned away from him. "I had someone else. I was supposed to be pinning away from Vaughn. I'm supposed to still be hopelessly in love with him. It's what everyone expects." She paused and looked up at him. "I told myself that I wasn't going to let this happen."
"What?" he asked.
"I wasn't supposed to let this love get through my defenses. It goes against everything I've ever known or felt. I can't understand it."
"I don't understand it either."
"So, this wasn't part of your plan?" she asked.
"No. I can say one hundred percent that I didn't plan on this to happen."
"I know what kind of person you are. I keep telling myself that you're the kind of guy that a girl looks at fondly wondering if you're as slick as you look. If you'd be good in bed." She saw him chuckling. "Don't laugh. You know it's true. You're not the kind of guy a girl falls for."
"But you did," Sark said. He was still trying to digest her little announcement.
"I did. And it pisses me off so much. But in a wacky kind of way, it makes sense. Over the past month, you've shown that you really understand who I am. Unlike everyone I've ever worked with, you understand that I'm not this perfect little agent who can't do wrong. Who doesn't want to do wrong. I really am my mother's daughter." She walked up to him and placed his hand on her chest over where her heart was pounding. "I don't understand it. But this is what the man I should despise, a cold-blooded killer who doesn't have any sort of emotion, the one man I hate with all my heart… this is what you do to me. And I can't explain it."
"So what do we do now?" Sark said looking into her eyes.
"I need to get this out of my system. I'm going to go back to the CIA as soon as this leg is healed. That's not going to change."
"What exactly are you proposing?" he asked. Every word she said confused him more and more.
"This," she whispered as she pulled his lips down to hers heatedly.
The kiss was forceful and full of more passion than any other kiss Sydney had ever given a man. She was afraid that it almost bordered on the lines of indecency.
"Damn," Sark said when she pulled away.
"You feel it, too. There's something there." Sydney took a step back to catch her breath. "Let's just put the analyzing on hold for the rest of my time here. For once, I just want to follow my heart without worrying about the consequences or repercussions."
"I don't love you, Sydney."
She laughed. "Well, it's good that one of us hasn't lost their mind."
He couldn't help but laugh with her. "You are the most confusing woman I have ever met."
"And it intrigues you, right?"
"Exactly. Which is why I'm going to go along with this. Where do we begin?"
"We begin by you forgetting every plan you've made for today. Instead, you're going to spend all your time with me. I only have you for a week. That gives me a limited amount of time to sort out what exactly this is."
"This is going to end in a week. That won't change."
"I know. It's better that way anyhow."
"You confuse the hell out of me, Sydney Bristow."
"Good. We'll go from there," she said as she pulled him into another kiss.
