Previously on "I Spy"

Sark admired the combination of beauty and tactical genius as the car reached a rotary surrounding an ornate fountain. Standing behind the fountain was an enormous castle, its design exuding strength and power. Barely visible amongst the centuries old architecture were cameras, gun emplacements, and various sensors. Beautiful yet utterly impenetrable- whoever lives inside is definitely one to be reckoned with. And this person has just spent a tidy sum to extract me.  Could Irina be finally calling me back to her side?  If not, then I've got a whole new set of troubles to deal with.  Right now I don't really care. At least I'm no longer in that damned glass cell. That realization brought a smile to Sark's face as he prepared to meet Simon's employer.

Chapter 3 – Castle Confusion – An Unexpected Twist

"Are you coming inside, Mr. Sark? Or have you changed your mind about meeting my employer?"

He sounds rather annoyed at me. I wonder why. "I'm coming," Sark replied gruffly as he cautiously stepped out of the limo. The sun had set just and it took Sark's eyes a little time to adjust to the darkness. He was about to comment on the beautiful castle in front of him, but stopped himself as he realized he was standing in front of a simple beach house perched on a beach, its white sand finer than any he had ever seen. The house was an ordinary beach house, standing square and non-descript, a wooden patio facing the ocean, house and patio both covered in peeling white paint. The house sat about a quarter mile from the shore and at least a half-mile away from the nearest beach house, which was also white and non-descript, much like the house Sark and Simon stood in front of.

This is where I'm to meet Simon's employer? What happened to the castle with the wrought-iron gates and the thorny rose garden? Careful to hide his confusion, Sark pondered how he could have seen something that so obviously wasn't there. I must've fallen asleep again in the limo and dreamt about what I was expecting to happen.

"So it appears Rip Van Winkle has finally decided to grace us with his presence. My employer will be very pleased as well."

Simon's words confirmed Sark's suspicions that he'd fallen asleep again while in the limo. Get your bloody head back in the game, idiot! Sark dutifully followed Simon into the house, down a short hallway and into a bedroom. Simon flicked a switch, filling the room with soft white light. The tiny room had plain white walls; they were the same color as the exterior of the house, although the paint inside was in considerably better condition. A full-sized bed sat in the middle, taking up most of the room. There was a small table with a reading lamp next to the bed. A small closet took up the wall on the other side of the bed, and a tiny dresser sat between the closet and the door. All of the furniture was nicked and worn, as if each piece had seen a lot of use. Intent on examining the bedroom, Sark had forgotten Simon was in the room until he cleared his throat, demanding Sark's attention. "My employer will be meeting with you shortly, Mr. Sark. I have some business to attend to, but we will be seeing each other again later." Simon brusquely left the room and locked the door before Sark even had a chance to answer.

You're losing your touch, Sark. You have to get out of that damn dream world you've been in all day and focus on the task at hand! Don't forget you're being held captive. You can't afford to be an oblivious idiot; it could cost you your life!

Sark glanced around the room looking for a way out besides the door that he had come in. The first rule of being a spy: Always have an exit route planned. You never know when you're going to need it. He tried the door first, knowing the futility of doing so. Damn, Simon really did lock me in. Let's try the window then.  He pulled open the curtains covering the tiny window. I think I could fit through that, but just barely. Maybe there's another way out. Sark began feeling the walls and floor, looking for loose boards that might be hiding a secret passageway. In the midst of his search, a key turned in the lock, and a familiar female voice interrupted his casing of the room. "Hello, Sark. Trying to leave so soon? You know it's rude to leave without saying goodbye to the host, or in this case, hostess."

Sark froze when he heard the voice. That's not Irina's voice. It sounds almost like Allie, but it can't be her. Allie's dead. Careful to hide the sorrow he felt thinking of the loss of Allie, Sark turned to look at the woman who had walked into the room. He choked at the sight of chocolate brown skin, long dark hair, cold eyes and a mischievous smile. This can't be real. There's just no way it could be her. "Dear God, this can't be possible. Allie? Is that really you, love? I thought you were dead." Sark sat down on the edge of the bed, a stunned expression on his face.

Allison shut the door and closed the distance between herself and Sark so that she stood right in front of him, smiling at the unnerved Sark staring up at her. She chuckled softly and her eyes twinkled with amusement. "Now what made you think that Sark?" she purred, as she sat on his lap. "Is that what the CIA told you?"

He was silent for a moment as her right index finger traced the line of his jaw. He wrapped his arms around her waist, needing to touch her and know that she was real. She's real. Allie's really alive and she's sitting on my lap. He craned his neck upwards to examine the face of the love he thought he'd lost. She's beautiful as ever, although I preferred her old look to this one. "Nobody ever told me explicitly that you were dead, Allie, but I know that a body was taken out of Bristow's apartment after you were compromised and that both Tippin and Bristow survived the encounter. So far as anyone knew, you were the only other person there besides those two. If that wasn't your body they took from the rubble of the apartment, then who's was it?"

Allison smiled at Sark, fingers lightly running up and down his right arm. She leaned closer to him and whispered softly in his ear "Does it really matter? Isn't it enough that I'm still alive?"

Sark's grip on Allison's waist tightened. Of course it matters, but there are more important matters at hand. I'll let it go for now. "No, I suppose it doesn't. It's good to see you again, love." Unable to resist any longer, he kissed her passionately until they were both breathless.

"That was definitely worth the two year wait."

"There are a few other things I haven't done in the past two years I'd like to try." Sark grinned at her suggestively as his hands tugged at her top, silently requesting that she remove the offending article of clothing.

Allison took Sark's hands in her own and kissed him softly as she gently removed herself from his embrace. She sighed and ran her fingers through her long hair. Sark smiled as he watched her fidget. She always used to tease me when I did that.

 "As much as I want this – want you - we'll have to wait until later to get reacquainted, Sark."

Damn woman and her games!  "Whatever it is, it can wait, Allie." Sark got up from his seat on the bed and stood behind Allison, wrapping his arms around her. "It's been two years since we've been together and I intend to make up for lost time." He planted a kiss in her hair.

Allison sighed again, torn between her loyalty to her employer and her desire for Sark. Finally, she mumbled, "I'm sorry Sark, but at this very moment, my employer is standing on the other side of that door waiting to speak with you."

Sark let go of Allison, shocked as he processed what she had just said. Allison took the opportunity to put a little distance between herself and Sark. Employer? I thought she was Simon's employer! If she's not Simon's employer, then who is? "Your employer? So you're not the one who put this whole operation together to extract me?" Sark stared at Allison, disbelief written all over his face. The disbelief quickly turned into anger. If Allie was alive, she would've tried to extract me a long time ago. Whoever this is, it's not my Allie. "This is a trap, isn't it? You're not really her. Allison's dead!" Enraged, he slammed Allison into the wall and used his body to hold her in place as he strangled her.

Allison gasped for breath and began to choke as Sark cut off her air supply. As she squirmed against Sark, she managed to free her right arm and punched Sark in the face as hard as she could. He staggered backwards and landed on the bed.

Allison looked at him and shook her head sadly. "I would've gotten you out a lot earlier if I had had the resources to do so."

Sark jumped to his feet again, and lunged at Allison. Just as he was about to pin her against the door, it opened from the outside, and Sark landed on top of Allison as they both tumbled into the hallway.

"I see you two have wasted no time in getting reacquainted." Sark looked up to see a familiar face smiling down at him.

A/N: Don't hate me because Allison's alive! Sorry, sweetness, is it any consolation that Allison probably won't survive this fic?