Little Child Lost
Chapter Three
Golden
Sydney woke before Sark did. He was probably pretty tired and that chair didn't exactly scream comfort. He most likely didn't fall asleep until much later than she did. For a brief instant, Sydney felt guilty over taking the gigantic bed. There had been plenty of room for him to join her and still stay safely on his side of the bed. She didn't dwell on it for too long, though, before getting up to take a shower. Sark was breathing heavily, a light snore filling the silent room. Sydney nearly giggled since she'd never really expected him to be the type to snore. It made him seem more human. That and hearing him declare a father. She didn't particularly want to think about Sark as a human. He was supposed to stay the detached monster she'd always pictured him as. When he wasn't talking with that smooth British accent or shooting at her from a stairwell, he looked quite young. She'd never let herself wonder about Sark; it was easier to despise him if he had no outstanding characteristics or personality. Easier on all of them. At that very moment, Sydney wondered about him. Maybe his childhood had been akin to hers. A distant detached father, no mother, training to be a spy. Perhaps he hadn't really had a childhood. She sighed knowing this line of thinking was far from productive. She needed to be recapturing her last two years, not Sark's questionable childhood. She shut the door to the bathroom quietly and started the steady stream of hot water from the spigot. She recalled her decontamination shower temporarily that Sark had provided after spraying her with chloraflouride. It was hard for her to comprehend the concept of trusting Sark. She wasn't supposed to. She was positive of that. The only thing that stayed the same was Sark as the enemy. Only he wasn't anymore. It was so confusing. She stepped inside the shower and let the steamy liquid surround her; cleanse her body of sand and dirt, her hair slickening against her face. She was positive she heard the door open, but when she poked her head out from behind the shower curtain, she found no one. She finished up her shower and dried off. Lying on the counter was a knee-length skirt with huge exotic flowers covering. A black off the shoulder top sat folded against the skirt, a pair of sling back sandals on the white tile. Had Sark purchased the outfit for her? The thought was almost sweet. She slipped into the clothing. It fit perfectly. She glanced at her appearance in the mirror. She pulled her hair in a messy bun since she had no hair dryer, and she placed a flower in the tie. She had no make up and apparently Sark hadn't thought to purchase that for her. She licked her lips and exited the bathroom.
Sark had flipped on the TV. It got two stations, but it was something. He couldn't wait to change out of his Government Issue clothing for a nice suit. He'd found exactly what he was looking for. There was a manor off the side of town. He'd threatened to kill one of the maids if she didn't bring him a designer suit for himself and something nice for Sydney to wear. He'd succeeded in that endeavor. Now all he needed was a hot shower. Sydney was still occupying the bathroom, so he waited patiently. All he wanted was to get to the gold bullion. Sydney entered the room and he couldn't breathe for a moment. He'd seen Sydney in a variety of outfits and wigs, her look incredibly versatile. All the same, he hadn't expected her to look so naturally gorgeous. She was stunning. She didn't have an ounce of make up on and her hair was wet, a few tendrils falling from a bun. A few petals from a pink rose peeked out from the side of her head. The clothing fit her perfectly, every curve enhanced. He knew he was staring, so he forced himself to avert his eyes. He was unflappable. He was not going to let a pretty girl change that.
"I trust the clothing is acceptable."
"It is. Thank you."
Sydney flinched as if appreciating his gesture physically hurt her. Sark stood gracefully, his motions fluid as usual.
"I am going to take a shower if you don't mind."
Sydney shrugged as he passed by her, their arms brushing each other, electricity shooting through both of them. Both were glad he was leaving the room. It was almost too much.
Sark strolled into the bank, confident as usual. His shirt had three buttons undone, no tie strangling his neck. He'd always hated ties. Suits were nice, but ties were simply binding. After spending two years in Government Issue clothing, he'd gotten used to not having anything around his neck. The smooth material of the suit felt wonderful against his skin, much better than the cotton polyblend government jumpsuit. He knew he caught a few eyes of the women inside the Island bank, as Sydney did of the men. They'd had an all right flight. His jet was back in action, each section of the plane private. He'd finally been able to contact the hangar to have it pick them up in Mexico. The plane had impressed Sydney, even though she didn't voice her opinion. She probably didn't want to admit she had the same taste as he did. Sark found the bank president, almost eager to pick up his money. The manager led Sark and Sydney to the back of the bank and down a flight of stairs. There stood the vault. Sark pressed his hand against the digital imager and watched the door slide open. Sark's eyes widened as he saw the blocks of gold glittering at him mockingly. Sydney stood by his side and he heard her gasp.
"How much is it?"
"800 million dollars."
She didn't say anything else. She wasn't quite sure what to say. 'Hey, glad you're now a multimillionaire' didn't quite seem to work. The money didn't exactly impress her, but knowing that they would have the funding to do their research comforted her. Sark felt relief flood over him, knowing that he had everything he needed now. Money, power…Sydney.
"I'll always be able to take care of you, Sydney."
He wasn't sure what possessed him to say it. He'd spoken quietly, but she'd heard him. She didn't respond. She knew she was supposed to reply, maybe something like 'I don't need you to take care of me', but the thought was nice. Incredible. Sark glanced over at the manager. "We need to discuss what to do with this."
"As you wish, Mr. Lazarey."
"It's Mr. Sark now."
The bank manager nodded obediently at hearing Sark's crisp tone. "We'll discuss it right away."
Jack leaned back into his leather chair in the conference room. Dixon, Weiss, Vaughn and his wife, Lauren Reed, sat around a table, their computer screens blank. Marshall was typing frantically, frustrated that the video footage hadn't come up yet. He'd found Sark at a bank on the Cayman Islands. He'd found Sydney, also. Finally. The video came up.
"I, uh, found out where Mr. Sark went. He was in the Cayman Islands, a bank. He inherited 800 million dollars in gold bullion from his father, Andrian Lazarey. He was a diplomat for Russia. He was killed a while ago. Sark is pretty surprised about the money. Everyone is. I can imagine what it'd be like to find out to have 800 million dollars. It's better than winning the lottery, I bet. I played that once. I bought a ticket and picked the numbers. It was my mom's birthday. But I didn't win."
The look the group was giving him made him stop.
"Anyway, here it is."
The video feed streamed into the computers. The two spies stood side by side, looking like quite a couple in designer threads. They weren't speaking, just staring at something.
"How much is it?"
"800 million dollars."
They seemed content to just stand there in each other's company.
"I'll always be able to take care of you, Sydney."
Sydney didn't seem too uncomfortable with the promise he'd just given her. Marshall stopped the video as Dixon stood. He looked incredibly pained as he began his speech.
"It's obvious Sydney isn't there with Mr. Sark under duress, so we have to see it as she's chosen her side. Unfortunately, that's Mr. Sark's organization. This is the first bit of emotion Mr. Sark has ever displayed besides self-preservation. Apparently, he has a soft spot for Sydney."
Vaughn cringed at the thought that Sark had any emotion for Sydney. He couldn't believe that Sydney had just deserted the team in the middle of a gunfight. It just wasn't like her. She'd always remained loyal to her team. Maybe Sark had implanted an explosive device that he threatened to detonate if she didn't come with him. The CIA had done it to Irina Derevko, why couldn't Sark? Hadn't Dixon considered that possibility? Vaughn glanced over at Jack, wondering why he hadn't spoken up. This was his daughter they'd been talking about. The two had been linked together on Sydney's communication link. Maybe Jack knew where she was. It was possible that Jack knew exactly what was happening. Vaughn decided not to say anything. Weiss, with a bruised jaw from where Sark had punched him, did speak up for Sydney.
"I know a lot of you think Sydney has betrayed us, but remember, she lost everything. Her friends are gone, her belongings are gone, her memory is gone. We need to try to understand what's happening to her. She wants to find out where she's been. Who can blame her? Any one of us would do anything we could to find out what had happened to us if we were experiencing what Sydney is. So she's turned to Sark this once. You all know he has extensive resources that ours combined can't compare to. We need to give Sydney a chance and please don't excommunicate me for saying so. She just needs someone to take up for her, since all of you gave up on her."
Weiss settled back into the leather chair, gulping for air. That had been more than he'd intended to say. He didn't regret defending Sydney because, in a way, he understood her actions. He would accept her for who she is, who she was, and whatever she did. The others let Weiss' words sink in and for a second, Vaughn felt guilty. Marshall was steadfastly on Weiss' side. No matter what happened, Sydney was kind to him. He still respected Sydney and he would always stay on her side. Jack didn't think Sydney had betrayed him. His little girl was so lost and so confused after everything she'd been through. He'd heard Sark's offer to help her. He hadn't been surprised when Sydney accepted Sark's offer. It reminded him of Irina's offer to help him find their daughter. Sydney was so much like him. It terrified him, to be honest. She was trusting a terrorist just like he'd trusted Irina. They were both in much deeper than they'd like to admit. He would have to contact Irina about this new development. He wasn't going to charge in and 'rescue' Sydney from Sark after seeing that video. It didn't seem that Sydney was in much danger with Sark. If it remained that way, he would allow Sydney to continue her search with Sark, even if he did despise the boy wonder. Dixon folded his arms across his chest, studying each member of his team. They were all lost in thought, except maybe Lauren. She didn't have a background with Sydney. Dixon wasn't surprised at that. Weiss' little lecture left a lot of doubts in their heads. He wanted to give Sydney another chance. He honestly did. He'd been so glad when he'd heard that Sydney was alive. She was gone again and he couldn't let his feelings for her cloud his judgment as clichéd as it sounded. He was the director of the CIA. That had to come first. Loyalty to his country over loyalty to his friends. He decided it was time to break the tense silence.
"Weiss, I appreciate your thoughts. I sincerely do. I don't want to believe that Sydney would betray all of us. Like I said, she chose Sark over us. We have to treat her like a terrorist, just like we do Mr. Sark. Lauren and the NSA are trying to track the two of them from the Islands. We'll capture them when we get a chance. That's all for now."
Dixon flicked off his computer and lifted several files off the table. The group dispersed to their own designated positions, though they only put half-hearted attempts at doing their job.