Sydney did the first thing that came to mind. She slapped Sark.
Hard.
"Jesus, Bristow! What the hell was that for?" Sark yelled attracting some unwanted attention.
"I don't know," she screamed back. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm down. "What are you doing here?"
"I think the real question is who is this Toby and why did you think I was him?" Sark sat down in the seat next to her and rubbed his jaw.
Sydney wasn't really in the mood for fighting. These dreams that were haunting her were really taking their toll. She slumped back into her seat and looked over at her companion. "You know if you weren't a completely evil person, I think you and I would get along nicely."
"You know I've always thought that," Sark said. "But the other way around, if one you were a completely evil person."
She found herself laughing even though she tried not to. "Why are you pestering me?" she said as she leaned back and closed her eyes.
"Your little boy toy was picked up by my men about five hours ago."
"Vaughn!" She sat up straight. "What the hell have you done with him, Sark?"
"Nothing, my dear. I just took the disk out of his possession. I let him board his little jet, which I might say pales in comparison to mine."
"Is it always about the size of your jet with you men?"
"Ha ha. Very funny. I just heard that you had a little bit of a wait ahead of you. Couldn't turn down the opportunity to gloat."
"You've gloated. Now go away."
"You don't seem so upset that I got the disk."
"Believe it or not, this mission wasn't that important to the CIA. They sent me on it as a sort of vacation."
"If this is what the CIA considers a vacation, maybe you should have stuck with SD-6. At least they don't expect you to steal things and wear hooker outfits on your vacation." Sark turned to look at Sydney meaningfully. "Unless that's your idea of a vacation. If that's the case, could you please let me know when your next vacation is?"
"I don't have to take this," Sydney said, standing up and grabbing her bag.
Sark ran to catch up with her. "Where are you going, Bristow? Your flight doesn't leave for another three hours."
"I'm not going to spend those three hours sitting there talking to you, that's for sure." She stopped and poked his chest with her finger. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're lonely."
"Maybe I am," Sark said seriously. "It's been an awful long time since I met a woman that could keep up with me like you can, Sydney."
She looked him in the eyes for a moment, trying to read if he was telling the truth, before saying, "Bullshit."
She began walking again and was fairly pleased to hear Sark running to catch up with her again. "Here's the truth. I wanted to make you an offer."
"I've already told you know."
"And I've told you that if you actually took the time to consider it, you might say yes."
"No," she said flat out.
Sark grabbed her arm to stop her from running any further. "The least you can let me do is give you a lift back to the States."
"Aren't you a wanted terrorist? Or was that whole part of your life a crazy dream of mine?"
"Been having some crazy dreams lately?" he asked.
"Get your hands off of me before I make you take them off," she hissed.
"Listen. You and I can be great assets to one another if you would just give it a chance. We have different agendas. We work with different agencies. That doesn't mean that this couldn't be a profitable relationship."
"Um, yeah, it kind of does."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a disk. "Give me a change, Agent Bristow. You won't regret it."
"Is that the disk I picked up off of Boreo-Garcia?"
"The one and only. It's a lot more important than the CIA would guess. You need this disk if you want to reach your goals. I need you by my side if I'm going to reach mine."
Sydney hesitantly reached out and took the disk from him. She wasn't sure about this, but she knew that something in her was urging her to forget her common sense and move forward. "Let's see just how big this jet is," she said with an eyebrow raised.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
"This is crazy," Sydney thought as the jet took off. She was on a jet with the man she hated most in the world, and she was trusting him enough to actually take her back to Los Angeles.
"Why don't you try to sleep?" Sark suggested. It was obvious she was nervous about the whole situation. If he wanted to get the results he desired, that nervousness would have to go.
"No way," Sydney practically screamed. "There is no way I'm going to sleep with you around."
"I didn't kill you when you were sleeping for hours in the airport terminal," he pointed out.
"That isn't what I meant." She didn't want to have another dream about him while actually being in his presence. It was bad enough that her dreams threw her off enough to kiss him. Who knew what she would end up doing on a jet?
"What did you mean?" he asked.
She just glared at him.
The first half of the flight went by rather quickly. Sark paid no attention to Sydney. Instead, he opted to do some work on his laptop without even looking up from the screen once. It pleased and infuriated her at the same time.
Sydney found herself daydreaming about how she would explain to the CIA her early return. As she pictured herself talking to Vaughn, she felt her consciousness shift to what it would be like to come home to him.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
"Damnit!" she yelled. Her voice echoed down the empty hallway. "I thought daydreams were safe!"
It didn't surprise her to see the two doors again. The black one now had a set of burns on it that looked suspiciously like rope burns. That didn't make much sense to Sydney because how can a door get rope burns. But she couldn't deny what her eyes and mind were trying to tell her.
"What the hell are you trying to do to me?" she screamed to whoever was listening. "This whole dream thing is really screwing with me, and I don't like it. I can't not sleep. I want some answers. I'm not going to go into a door without some answers."
Sydney watched as the blue door flung open with a large gust of wind. "I'm not going in there," she started to scream again.
"Why not?" said a voice behind her.
Sydney turned around and stared in shock at the person addressing her. "Mom?" she murmured.
"I'm not really here, Sydney," her mother said. She walked up to where Sydney was standing and sat down on the ground. "It seems like you can't handle your own subconscious. And I thought I raised you better than that."
"You abandoned me when I was six."
"That's an issue for another day. For now, I want you to go into that door."
"No. Not until you give me some answers, Subconscious!"
Irina grasped her daughter's hands and pulled her down to sit next to her. "What was the one memory you have of me, Sydney?" she asked.
Sydney thought hard. "Just before you left, you and I had a talk. I was playing with my dolls and asked you if I would ever be as happy as you and Dad were."
"You asked me if you would ever find someone like your daddy. Do you remember what I told you?"
"There's a man out there, waiting for me. He's the one that will make me happy for the rest of my life. But I can't just sit around waiting for him to come to me. I have to look for him every day if I really want to find him."
"Your soulmate, Sydney." Irina tapped her daughter lightly on her nose. It was a gesture of affection she had always shown her when they were together as mother and daughter. That was when Sydney was little. Her mother hadn't done that small gesture since. "Did you find him?"
"I don't know. I'm so confused."
"I know you are. There's a reason you're confused."
"I wish I knew that reason." Sydney threw her head into her hands.
"You're torn between two men. It's as simple as that. You have two men in your life, and you feel like you're destined to be with both." Irina stood up. "That's what these dreams are all about, Sydney."
Sydney looked up into empty air. Her mother the subconscious manifestation had disappeared. She took a deep breath and stood up. "All right. I get what I'm trying to tell myself. I'll go in the damn blue door."
Stepping through the threshold, she didn't even take in her surroundings. Which is why it took her a moment to realize that she hadn't gone back to a distant time or place. Instead, she was in Michael Vaughn's apartment as it was currently, or at least that's what she thought.
"Vaughn?" she called out hesitantly.
He appeared in the doorway with a worried look on his face. "What is this, Sydney?" he asked holding up a computer disk and file folder.
"That's the latest intel that Sark gave me," she replied matter-of-factly.
"I thought I asked you to cut your connections with him. This relationship is not good for you, and you know it."
"He's my partner as much as you are, Vaughn. I can't just cut him off. Besides, he's my friend." It was at this moment that Sydney realized that she was lying in Michael Vaughn's bed. Naked. It took all of her control not to try to cover up.
"He's not your boyfriend, Sydney. He's not your lover." Vaughn threw the items in question down in front of her. "But maybe you want him to be. Is that what's going on?"
As much as she wanted to deny it, she couldn't get her mouth to move. This wasn't a past experience. This hadn't ever happened. Unlike the other dreams, this one was painfully real. But somehow she still had no control over what was happening.
Much to her discomfort, he continued, "You don't think I know what's going on. You thrive on excitement, Sydney. Any fool can see that. I learned that little bit about you the first day we met when you waltzed into CIA facilities with your bleeding red hair and pissed off look. You and me, our relationship was forbidden. And I'll be the first to admit that very aspect is what made it so exciting."
"It wasn't just that, Michael."
"Let me finish. The excitement's worn off now that SD-6 and the Alliance are no more. You and I can see each other in public. We can meet for lunch. We can drive to work together. The excitement isn't there anymore, not in the way it used to be. Sark's exciting, isn't he?"
Sydney wanted to deny it, but in her heart, she knew that lying wouldn't help the situation. "Yes."
"Have you slept with him yet?"
Sydney formed her mouth to say no, but that's not what came out. "Yes."
"In St. Petersburg."
"Yes."
"I knew it. I think I've always known it. Sydney, if you don't want to be with me, if you'd rather be with him, then go. I love you enough not to hold you back." He turned his back on her.
"I love you, Michael," she whispered.
"You loved me once, Sydney. I know that. You don't love me anymore. Go and be happy. That's all I ever wanted for you."
The Sydney inside was screaming for herself to stay put in that bed, not to leave Vaughn when he was hurting so badly. But the real Sydney stood up, threw on her clothes which were on the floor, and walked out the door.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Sydney awoke and felt the tears in her eyes. She thought she had a good handle on what she was trying to tell herself with these dreams. But why would she make herself break Vaughn's heart? What meaning did that have?
"You're in love with your handler, aren't you?"
Sydney had forgotten for a moment that she had been sleeping on Sark's private plane. That she had agreed to show him a little trust. "What are you talking about?"
"You said 'I love you, Michael' in your sleep. Michael Vaughn is your handler at the CIA, is he not?"
"He is." Something clicked in Sydney's head. What she had been about to start today was a complete mistake. That was what her mind was telling her when she dreamed of breaking Vaughn's heart. "This relationship is not going to go any farther than this jet, Sark. I've thought it through and it's just not going to work for me."
"You haven't thought it through. You've been sleeping, Agent Bristow."
"I can think in my sleep. And I think a mutual partnership with you might be the worst decision I ever made." Sydney felt the familiar bump of the landing gear making contact with solid ground. "I'm leaving."
The plane began to slow as Sark unfastened his seat belt and stood up. He got up and walked over to Sydney. She expected him to hit her or make another forceful offer. What he actually did caught her completely by surprise.
He gently leaned in and unhooked her seat belt. Instead of pulling back to let her stand up, he leaned in. Without asking permission, he touched his lips to hers. It should have been a completely chaste kiss. It would have been a completely chaste kiss. If only Sydney could have kept control of her arms.
As much as she tried to hold them back, her arms snaked around his body and pulled him down onto her. His teeth lightly nibbled on her bottom lip as his hands reached up into her hair. Sydney didn't know why the thought popped into her head, but she found herself thinking that this was the way she had always imagined Vaughn would kiss. Light and teasing with just enough of a hint of passion to keep her wanting more.
Rather abruptly after a few minutes, Sark pulled back and picked her up out of the chair by the waist. He deposited her down by the door just as it was being opened. Smirking, he said, "The offer still stands, Sydney. Give it a little more thought."
She slapped him rather hard and was happy to hear a satisfying crack when she made contact. Walking down the boarding stairs, she called out, "The answer's still no, Sark."
He rubbed his cheek gently and smiled at her disappearing figure. He loved games, especially when they proved to be more difficult than he first imagined.