A/N: Sorry for the time delay. This chapter was SO hard to write. And....I'd
just like to say thank you "The Counteragent" from season 2!!!!
"You know, it's a good thing tapping never gets old!" Anna said sarcastically, her eyes toward the ceiling as she lay flat on the white- outfitted cot.
Sark paused his drummings against the wall, only to tap harder a second later. The corners of his mouth lifted up in a half smirk as he watched Anna grow increasingly more annoyed.
She sat up suddenly, her mouth practically breathing fire. "Ok, so what's the deal here? Is this some kamikaze mission? Because seriously, I'm feeling a little murderous."
Sark met her eyes willfully, not blinking. "Maybe if you weren't so bothered by every little thing....a little high maintenance, aren't we?" He brought his knees up onto the bed, his back pressed against the brick wall as he tried to get comfortable, realizing they'd already been here for 2 hours and it would likely be much longer before they were let out.
"Me, high maintenance?! You're the one—," she broke off, shaking her head angrily. "Maybe we should just not speak."
Sark's eyes widened in faux-surprise, a smile playing nicely on his lips. "This is what it took for you to finally stop talking!"
Anna shot him a look of pure malice, telling herself not to respond, not to lower herself to his level. She sat silently, for a moment, feeling the past few weeks boil up inside of her. She couldn't take it anymore! "I don't get you at all....one moment, you're against the CIA, shooting at me and the next you pretend to be this bad guy-turned-good, acting somewhat pleasantly. And you save my life a few times and think you're God's gift to the agency. Then, after a successful mission, you decide, hey, let's drop her and work with Weiss?! What is that?" Anna blurted out, flinging her hands up for emphasis and feeling everything was finally coming to the surface. "What is actually going on inside that distorted head of yours? Who the hell are you?"
But she didn't actually say that; Anna screamed it on the inside, her eyes daring to sneak a look at his calm, relaxed face. She exhaled loudly, rolling over to face the wall and forcefully closing her eyes. Anna tried to picture her father's face; the easy laugh-lines around his mouth and his crinkly hazel eyes. He would know what to do in a situation like this, he always knew what to do. Her father had that special human talent to be generous, sweet, firm, and determined all at the same time. When Anna had been sick, he would always sit beside her after making her a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup, holding her hand and reading special "dad" versions of fairy tales to her.
But the picture was fuzzy. She was forgetting the familiar curve of his smile and his strong jawline. As the years past, Anna felt like she was losing his memory. Sure, she had pictures, but the important things were fading from her every day; his deep, relaxed voice, and his slight woodsy, fresh scent. Anna felt a dampness on her cheek and she lifted her hand to her smooth skin, realizing she was crying. A sudden feeling of loneliness passed over her as she became aware of her true independence in the world. She had amazing friends, that was true, but she didn't have someone that just knew her without having to say anything or unconditional, ever-lasting love. She didn't have a family.
"Anna?" Sark's voice beckoned her back to the dim cell and her father's image slipped away from her mind. "What are you thinking?"
She wiped the last of her tears from her eyes, clearing her voice as she tried to hide any signs of emotion. "What, other than they ways I'd like to get rid of you?" she replied snidely, her back still to him.
Sark's gaze wandered over the bare expanse of skin visible from where Anna's long-sleeved shirt had ridden up from her simple black pants. The smooth serenity of her skin was screaming to be touched and Sark had to fight back every natural impulse in his body to keep from going over to her. "You know, you used to like me before all of this happened."
Anna sat back up, finally facing him, her eyes carrying traces of mockery. "No, I tolerated you. Big difference."
He didn't answer, deciding not to engage her in an hostile argument that would make their time caged in this cell even more unpleasant. For a few moments, an awkward silence hung in the air, before both Anna and Sark opened their mouths at the same time. Sark held out his arm, indicating that she should go first.
"I was just going to ask you about your family, that's all," Anna said, realizing that she sounded too interested in his personal life. "Well, I mean, to end up like that, you must have had some childhood," she added disdainfully.
Sark hung his head, mentally strategizing his answer. A thousand possibilities and lies whipped through his mind but he wasn't in the mood for a charade. For once, he just wanted to be honest. "Do you remember the day we met?"
"It's not something one forgets," answer Anna, not really directing it at him. "But, ugh, anyway, I do remember...," she trailed off uncertainly, a light rose colour flushing her cheeks.
"Then, you remember, the story I told you about my father, not being the greatest example, the abuse and such?" He summed up quickly, searching her face for understanding.
Anna rolled her dark eyes. "Oh right. The sympathy story to get the girl. Nice move."
"Actually it was true," he stated simply, trying to avoid the rush of thoughts of his father from entering his mind.
Her expression softened a little, though Anna maintained her suspicion. "Listen, if this is just another one of your lies, I could really do without--,"
"No. It's true. What I told you back in that airport was true," he interrupted adamantly.
She saw the truth in his eyes and immediately felt horrible for doubting it. "I'm sorry. I had no idea. I thought it was part of the act..."
Sark's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Oddly enough, some things I say are true."
"That must have been a horrible situation to live in. You must have felt so—,"
"Lonely," they both said at the same time.
Anna half-smiled sadly. "Why...if you don't mind me asking, didn't your mother leave him?" she asked, twisting the corner of the sheets distractedly.
Sark rested his head on the wall, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "I never asked. I suppose because she had no place else to go. She was weak and he knew that. I was weak too—,"
Anna placed the palms of her hands together, her brown eyes trailing his frustration.
Sark shook his head, feeling some of the old feelings of rage bubble within him. "Still, I should've done something. Not like it would have mattered. When he was finished with us, he left. My mother had nothing—that time was like one massive nightmare...," He lost himself in sad, tormenting memories.
"I'm sorry," Anna repeated.
"You're not going to say 'it's not your fault' and tell me there was nothing I could do?" he asked, surprised by her rather calm, unabashed simplicity.
"Nothing I say will change how you feel. You'll always blame yourself, whether I tell you not to or not," she rationalized.
Sark tried not to let her words touch him. She understood. She didn't try and convince him of his innocence, she merely accepted what he had said. "You sound like you've had experience?"
Anna looked down at her hands. "No, nothing like that. But both my parents died when I was fairly young. You don't ever get over that loneliness. It seems to stay with you. Like the blame."
Sark's intense eyes met hers for a moment before she opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.
"Say it."
Anna brought her legs up, now sitting cross-legged. "Since we're baring our souls here...how is it that after all you've seen—with your own family and all—that you can hurt people so freely? I've seen your record. And the numbers....are so high...," She stopped, trying to figure out what she was trying to say. "You can take someone's life so easily...you do it so casually, I could never—I mean, these are people, they have names and lives and families. Do you ever think of that, wondering if that man has a 5 year old son waiting for his dad to come so they can play catch?"
Sark had been wondering when this was going to come up. He knew that whatever relationship they had—working, friendship...and so on—would always be complicated by his ability to kill. He tried to choose his words carefully. "I learned a long while ago to separate bodies from people. Bodies are things in the way that must be removed. They have no name, no life and no family."
"But they are people! Human lives. I've read your file and more often than not, those people were innocent—they didn't have to die."
"Anna--," Sark began.
"Wait, don't you ever feel bad? Where is your conscious? Don't you ever feel remorse?"
Sark decided to be honest with her. "No, I suppose not."
Anna exhaled, realizing that no matter how 'connected' she may feel towards him, his lack of morals would always be problematic. "Someday you will. You just won't be able to do it so easily anymore. You just need to face it; have someone take something important from you and then you'll know what a horrible person you've become." Anna flopped back on her bed, exasperated and wondering why she had even bothered in the first place.
Both Anna and Sark just laid quietly, the silence filling the air dauntingly. Sark was beginning to feel very tired, especially with the recollections of the past chasing him.
"Listen, we will never agree. What you do is wrong, even you know that. But I'm sorry about before. And based on that little outburst, I'm willing to admit that I think you made the right choice," Anna broke in.
Sark groaned slightly, slowly arising from his half-asleep stupor. "Did I just hear you say I was right?"
Anna threw a pillow at him, then glanced away thoughtfully, examining the wall just beyond his tired face. "You right? Get real. I was just saying that I agreed with your choice to end our working together. We never get along. I think...maybe, it was a good thing to do. That's all." Anna plastered a small smile on her face, trying to believe what she was saying. "Stop looking at me like that!"
"Like what?"
"Like you are trying to think up some witty response just to argue with me," Anna replied pointedly, her tone light.
He smirked. That was exactly what he had been trying to do. "Since when do we argue?"
"Since when do we not?" she retorted incredulously, tilting her head.
"If anyone starts an argument, it's definitely you," Sark answered, attempting to hide a smile.
Anna swung her legs off the cot and leaned forward, her brown eyes glinting wildly under the overhead light. "Are you joking? You always fight with me over the stupidest things—,"
"Hey, you're the one constantly harping on me!" he jumped in, watching her with complete seriousness despite his playful expression. He forced himself not to notice how stunning she looked when she was frustrated and angry. The way her eyes seemed to brighten and spots of pink flushed her pure skin. Sark couldn't let himself admit that he loved watching her argue; her passion just overwhelmed his senses and he swore he'd never met anyone with more fire.
Anna burst out laughing, her seriousness dissipated. "We're arguing about arguing." His eyes remained trained on her bright smile, as he laughed too. That was it, he thought, the light changed when she was in the room.
Sark suddenly felt very nauseous, his smile fading as he tore his gaze from Anna. He had to remember who she was and more importantly, who he was.
"Are you ok?" beckoned her voice. Anna jumped off her bed, kneeling beside his concernedly as she searched his face for signs. "You don't look so well."
Sark tried to shrug her off, slightly surprised, and pleasantly so, of her worry. "I'm just tired. I just need to lie down," he told her, lying back on the white sheets.
Anna, still worried, placed her hand on his forehead. "Should I call for Dr. Hayward...you're not warm, but still."
"No, really, I'm fine. Just tired." He grabbed Anna's wrist with his hand, drawing her closer to him. Her face betrayed her startled emotions as she looked down at him. "Anna?" he whispered softly.
Anna just watched, feeling slightly frightened about what he had to say. Was it all about to be said?
"Go," he said firmly, lightly letting go of her wrist and closing his eyes.
Anna turned from him, her eyes full of tears she tried to suppress. She lay silently on her bed, questioning what she had really expected...wanted to hear him say. Anna glanced at his immovable form, her eyes, for a second, seeing the file an inch thick that had been dropped on her desk the day she had agreed to work with him. She saw the faces of the CIA agents he had killed and the list of innocent people who had gotten in his way. She saw the long list of anti-U.S. organizations he had links to. She saw the even longer list of crimes he was wanted for. At the very bottom of that list was the name of an agent he had attempted to kill. Anna Parker.
Anna rolled over to face the wall, willing her mind to stop visualizing the malice in Sark's eyes when he had trained that gun on her and fired all those months ago. Slowly, she felt her eyelids grow heavy and eagerly embraced sleep.
Sark listened for her even, soft breathing, opening his eyes when he knew she was asleep. He rubbed his temples, still feeling slightly dizzy. He knew she was becoming personally involved and he sensed how much that scared her. Sark was well aware of that fact that she was more personal, more humane than him. Shockingly enough, that was one of the reasons he was so attracted to her. She was so different, unlike any other woman he'd ever known. Anna almost made him feel a sort of guilt about who he was and what he did. Almost. But Sark had one thing on Anna. He could disengage; never having had strong connections to anyone made it fairly simple to detach from people. Sark was not about to let Anna Parker change him. He didn't need to be saved and certainly not by her.
He glanced over at her sleeping figure, her chest moving up and down rhythmically. Sark watched as she rolled over, facing him now, though still asleep. Her hands were tucked under her pillow, her face innocent and sweet as her hair flowed freely across her shoulders. Suddenly, he didn't feel so tired anymore.
****Morning****
Anna fluttered her eyes, automatically feeling the kinks in her back prick with pain. She licked her lips, fully opening her eyes to see a wide-awake, fresh-looking Sark meeting her gaze. "What time is it?" she asked hoarsely.
"Seven-thirty."
Anna shoved her head rebelliously back into the pillow before turning to look at him once again, running a hand mindlessly through her still-shiny hair. "Jesus. Seven-thirty. Hayward said he'd have our results by this morning, right?"
Sark nodded, silently in agreement. Neither mentioned, though both were thinking about, what happened the night before. "You were talking in your sleep," he said quietly, breaking the quiet.
Anna lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "Oh God, what did I say?" But she was smiling, recalling her dream.
"Something like 'I can't believe we did that'. What was happening?" he asked, returning her grin.
"Oh, it was nothing...," she trailed off, closing her eyes peacefully. For a minute they just laid there, wondering what was running through each other's minds.
"Do you think we're sick?" Anna asked softly, her sleepy brown eyes suddenly vulnerable.
"Ahhh," Sark sighed, running his hands over his face. "I don't know."
Anna rubbed her cheek into the cushiony pillow, feeling incredibly exhausted, despite her sleep. She looked at Sark across the room, both of them lying parallel, their heads on the bright white pillows. She had to do it. "Sark....can I tell you something?"
He sensed the urgency in her voice, realizing what Anna was about to say was not something trivial. He propped his head up on his elbow, smiling for her to continue.
"Everything that has happened....what's happened and, I guess, what hasn't happened—there is something that you need to know. I—for the past—,"
There was a knock on the glass windows and Dr. Hayward flashed them a series of files stamped 'Cleared'. "Both of your test results were fine. Everything seems normal. You're free to go. If you feel anything out of the ordinary, report back here, but other than that you're in the clear."
Anna stood up, feeling flustered. "Are there any known symptoms that we should watch for?"
"Only extreme ones. Coughing up blood seems to be the first indicator. But like I've said, neither of you should worry. All your results are standard and you're in perfect health," Dr. Hayward answered, looked exhausted and hurried.
Anna and Sark both gave their thanks, allowing the doctor to get on with whatever it was he needed. She grabbed her bag, heading to the door but pausing to turn back towards Sark. "Good luck. With Weiss, I mean. I'll...uh...I'll see you around," she finished solidly, her smile small and agreeable.
******
Anna, for the first time in weeks, felt happy. It'd been a week since her forced isolation with Sark and she'd never felt better. She actually found herself singing as she dressed for work after a long, hot shower.
She was glad she hadn't had a chance to finish what she was going to say to Sark. Whatever that might have been, she had no idea. Nor did she want to know. And now she felt free of him, of the conflicting feelings that had kept her up nights. "If I just breathe, let it fill the space between, I'll know everything is alright, breathe, every little piece of me, you'll see, everything is alright, if I just breathe..." sang Anna, but was cut off with a bout of coughing. She and Francie had been at a bar the previous night that was completely filled with cigarette smoke so it was no surprise that her lungs were reacting now. But the coughing didn't end and she grabbed onto the corners of the counter, her head hanging over the sink. Finally, she gave it one last heave, her eyes drifting to the bottom of the sink. It was stained red. Anna eyes widened as she looked in the mirror, seeing a tiny trail of dark blood drift from her mouth. She'd coughed up blood.
"You know, it's a good thing tapping never gets old!" Anna said sarcastically, her eyes toward the ceiling as she lay flat on the white- outfitted cot.
Sark paused his drummings against the wall, only to tap harder a second later. The corners of his mouth lifted up in a half smirk as he watched Anna grow increasingly more annoyed.
She sat up suddenly, her mouth practically breathing fire. "Ok, so what's the deal here? Is this some kamikaze mission? Because seriously, I'm feeling a little murderous."
Sark met her eyes willfully, not blinking. "Maybe if you weren't so bothered by every little thing....a little high maintenance, aren't we?" He brought his knees up onto the bed, his back pressed against the brick wall as he tried to get comfortable, realizing they'd already been here for 2 hours and it would likely be much longer before they were let out.
"Me, high maintenance?! You're the one—," she broke off, shaking her head angrily. "Maybe we should just not speak."
Sark's eyes widened in faux-surprise, a smile playing nicely on his lips. "This is what it took for you to finally stop talking!"
Anna shot him a look of pure malice, telling herself not to respond, not to lower herself to his level. She sat silently, for a moment, feeling the past few weeks boil up inside of her. She couldn't take it anymore! "I don't get you at all....one moment, you're against the CIA, shooting at me and the next you pretend to be this bad guy-turned-good, acting somewhat pleasantly. And you save my life a few times and think you're God's gift to the agency. Then, after a successful mission, you decide, hey, let's drop her and work with Weiss?! What is that?" Anna blurted out, flinging her hands up for emphasis and feeling everything was finally coming to the surface. "What is actually going on inside that distorted head of yours? Who the hell are you?"
But she didn't actually say that; Anna screamed it on the inside, her eyes daring to sneak a look at his calm, relaxed face. She exhaled loudly, rolling over to face the wall and forcefully closing her eyes. Anna tried to picture her father's face; the easy laugh-lines around his mouth and his crinkly hazel eyes. He would know what to do in a situation like this, he always knew what to do. Her father had that special human talent to be generous, sweet, firm, and determined all at the same time. When Anna had been sick, he would always sit beside her after making her a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup, holding her hand and reading special "dad" versions of fairy tales to her.
But the picture was fuzzy. She was forgetting the familiar curve of his smile and his strong jawline. As the years past, Anna felt like she was losing his memory. Sure, she had pictures, but the important things were fading from her every day; his deep, relaxed voice, and his slight woodsy, fresh scent. Anna felt a dampness on her cheek and she lifted her hand to her smooth skin, realizing she was crying. A sudden feeling of loneliness passed over her as she became aware of her true independence in the world. She had amazing friends, that was true, but she didn't have someone that just knew her without having to say anything or unconditional, ever-lasting love. She didn't have a family.
"Anna?" Sark's voice beckoned her back to the dim cell and her father's image slipped away from her mind. "What are you thinking?"
She wiped the last of her tears from her eyes, clearing her voice as she tried to hide any signs of emotion. "What, other than they ways I'd like to get rid of you?" she replied snidely, her back still to him.
Sark's gaze wandered over the bare expanse of skin visible from where Anna's long-sleeved shirt had ridden up from her simple black pants. The smooth serenity of her skin was screaming to be touched and Sark had to fight back every natural impulse in his body to keep from going over to her. "You know, you used to like me before all of this happened."
Anna sat back up, finally facing him, her eyes carrying traces of mockery. "No, I tolerated you. Big difference."
He didn't answer, deciding not to engage her in an hostile argument that would make their time caged in this cell even more unpleasant. For a few moments, an awkward silence hung in the air, before both Anna and Sark opened their mouths at the same time. Sark held out his arm, indicating that she should go first.
"I was just going to ask you about your family, that's all," Anna said, realizing that she sounded too interested in his personal life. "Well, I mean, to end up like that, you must have had some childhood," she added disdainfully.
Sark hung his head, mentally strategizing his answer. A thousand possibilities and lies whipped through his mind but he wasn't in the mood for a charade. For once, he just wanted to be honest. "Do you remember the day we met?"
"It's not something one forgets," answer Anna, not really directing it at him. "But, ugh, anyway, I do remember...," she trailed off uncertainly, a light rose colour flushing her cheeks.
"Then, you remember, the story I told you about my father, not being the greatest example, the abuse and such?" He summed up quickly, searching her face for understanding.
Anna rolled her dark eyes. "Oh right. The sympathy story to get the girl. Nice move."
"Actually it was true," he stated simply, trying to avoid the rush of thoughts of his father from entering his mind.
Her expression softened a little, though Anna maintained her suspicion. "Listen, if this is just another one of your lies, I could really do without--,"
"No. It's true. What I told you back in that airport was true," he interrupted adamantly.
She saw the truth in his eyes and immediately felt horrible for doubting it. "I'm sorry. I had no idea. I thought it was part of the act..."
Sark's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Oddly enough, some things I say are true."
"That must have been a horrible situation to live in. You must have felt so—,"
"Lonely," they both said at the same time.
Anna half-smiled sadly. "Why...if you don't mind me asking, didn't your mother leave him?" she asked, twisting the corner of the sheets distractedly.
Sark rested his head on the wall, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "I never asked. I suppose because she had no place else to go. She was weak and he knew that. I was weak too—,"
Anna placed the palms of her hands together, her brown eyes trailing his frustration.
Sark shook his head, feeling some of the old feelings of rage bubble within him. "Still, I should've done something. Not like it would have mattered. When he was finished with us, he left. My mother had nothing—that time was like one massive nightmare...," He lost himself in sad, tormenting memories.
"I'm sorry," Anna repeated.
"You're not going to say 'it's not your fault' and tell me there was nothing I could do?" he asked, surprised by her rather calm, unabashed simplicity.
"Nothing I say will change how you feel. You'll always blame yourself, whether I tell you not to or not," she rationalized.
Sark tried not to let her words touch him. She understood. She didn't try and convince him of his innocence, she merely accepted what he had said. "You sound like you've had experience?"
Anna looked down at her hands. "No, nothing like that. But both my parents died when I was fairly young. You don't ever get over that loneliness. It seems to stay with you. Like the blame."
Sark's intense eyes met hers for a moment before she opened her mouth to speak but closed it again.
"Say it."
Anna brought her legs up, now sitting cross-legged. "Since we're baring our souls here...how is it that after all you've seen—with your own family and all—that you can hurt people so freely? I've seen your record. And the numbers....are so high...," She stopped, trying to figure out what she was trying to say. "You can take someone's life so easily...you do it so casually, I could never—I mean, these are people, they have names and lives and families. Do you ever think of that, wondering if that man has a 5 year old son waiting for his dad to come so they can play catch?"
Sark had been wondering when this was going to come up. He knew that whatever relationship they had—working, friendship...and so on—would always be complicated by his ability to kill. He tried to choose his words carefully. "I learned a long while ago to separate bodies from people. Bodies are things in the way that must be removed. They have no name, no life and no family."
"But they are people! Human lives. I've read your file and more often than not, those people were innocent—they didn't have to die."
"Anna--," Sark began.
"Wait, don't you ever feel bad? Where is your conscious? Don't you ever feel remorse?"
Sark decided to be honest with her. "No, I suppose not."
Anna exhaled, realizing that no matter how 'connected' she may feel towards him, his lack of morals would always be problematic. "Someday you will. You just won't be able to do it so easily anymore. You just need to face it; have someone take something important from you and then you'll know what a horrible person you've become." Anna flopped back on her bed, exasperated and wondering why she had even bothered in the first place.
Both Anna and Sark just laid quietly, the silence filling the air dauntingly. Sark was beginning to feel very tired, especially with the recollections of the past chasing him.
"Listen, we will never agree. What you do is wrong, even you know that. But I'm sorry about before. And based on that little outburst, I'm willing to admit that I think you made the right choice," Anna broke in.
Sark groaned slightly, slowly arising from his half-asleep stupor. "Did I just hear you say I was right?"
Anna threw a pillow at him, then glanced away thoughtfully, examining the wall just beyond his tired face. "You right? Get real. I was just saying that I agreed with your choice to end our working together. We never get along. I think...maybe, it was a good thing to do. That's all." Anna plastered a small smile on her face, trying to believe what she was saying. "Stop looking at me like that!"
"Like what?"
"Like you are trying to think up some witty response just to argue with me," Anna replied pointedly, her tone light.
He smirked. That was exactly what he had been trying to do. "Since when do we argue?"
"Since when do we not?" she retorted incredulously, tilting her head.
"If anyone starts an argument, it's definitely you," Sark answered, attempting to hide a smile.
Anna swung her legs off the cot and leaned forward, her brown eyes glinting wildly under the overhead light. "Are you joking? You always fight with me over the stupidest things—,"
"Hey, you're the one constantly harping on me!" he jumped in, watching her with complete seriousness despite his playful expression. He forced himself not to notice how stunning she looked when she was frustrated and angry. The way her eyes seemed to brighten and spots of pink flushed her pure skin. Sark couldn't let himself admit that he loved watching her argue; her passion just overwhelmed his senses and he swore he'd never met anyone with more fire.
Anna burst out laughing, her seriousness dissipated. "We're arguing about arguing." His eyes remained trained on her bright smile, as he laughed too. That was it, he thought, the light changed when she was in the room.
Sark suddenly felt very nauseous, his smile fading as he tore his gaze from Anna. He had to remember who she was and more importantly, who he was.
"Are you ok?" beckoned her voice. Anna jumped off her bed, kneeling beside his concernedly as she searched his face for signs. "You don't look so well."
Sark tried to shrug her off, slightly surprised, and pleasantly so, of her worry. "I'm just tired. I just need to lie down," he told her, lying back on the white sheets.
Anna, still worried, placed her hand on his forehead. "Should I call for Dr. Hayward...you're not warm, but still."
"No, really, I'm fine. Just tired." He grabbed Anna's wrist with his hand, drawing her closer to him. Her face betrayed her startled emotions as she looked down at him. "Anna?" he whispered softly.
Anna just watched, feeling slightly frightened about what he had to say. Was it all about to be said?
"Go," he said firmly, lightly letting go of her wrist and closing his eyes.
Anna turned from him, her eyes full of tears she tried to suppress. She lay silently on her bed, questioning what she had really expected...wanted to hear him say. Anna glanced at his immovable form, her eyes, for a second, seeing the file an inch thick that had been dropped on her desk the day she had agreed to work with him. She saw the faces of the CIA agents he had killed and the list of innocent people who had gotten in his way. She saw the long list of anti-U.S. organizations he had links to. She saw the even longer list of crimes he was wanted for. At the very bottom of that list was the name of an agent he had attempted to kill. Anna Parker.
Anna rolled over to face the wall, willing her mind to stop visualizing the malice in Sark's eyes when he had trained that gun on her and fired all those months ago. Slowly, she felt her eyelids grow heavy and eagerly embraced sleep.
Sark listened for her even, soft breathing, opening his eyes when he knew she was asleep. He rubbed his temples, still feeling slightly dizzy. He knew she was becoming personally involved and he sensed how much that scared her. Sark was well aware of that fact that she was more personal, more humane than him. Shockingly enough, that was one of the reasons he was so attracted to her. She was so different, unlike any other woman he'd ever known. Anna almost made him feel a sort of guilt about who he was and what he did. Almost. But Sark had one thing on Anna. He could disengage; never having had strong connections to anyone made it fairly simple to detach from people. Sark was not about to let Anna Parker change him. He didn't need to be saved and certainly not by her.
He glanced over at her sleeping figure, her chest moving up and down rhythmically. Sark watched as she rolled over, facing him now, though still asleep. Her hands were tucked under her pillow, her face innocent and sweet as her hair flowed freely across her shoulders. Suddenly, he didn't feel so tired anymore.
****Morning****
Anna fluttered her eyes, automatically feeling the kinks in her back prick with pain. She licked her lips, fully opening her eyes to see a wide-awake, fresh-looking Sark meeting her gaze. "What time is it?" she asked hoarsely.
"Seven-thirty."
Anna shoved her head rebelliously back into the pillow before turning to look at him once again, running a hand mindlessly through her still-shiny hair. "Jesus. Seven-thirty. Hayward said he'd have our results by this morning, right?"
Sark nodded, silently in agreement. Neither mentioned, though both were thinking about, what happened the night before. "You were talking in your sleep," he said quietly, breaking the quiet.
Anna lifted her eyes to the ceiling. "Oh God, what did I say?" But she was smiling, recalling her dream.
"Something like 'I can't believe we did that'. What was happening?" he asked, returning her grin.
"Oh, it was nothing...," she trailed off, closing her eyes peacefully. For a minute they just laid there, wondering what was running through each other's minds.
"Do you think we're sick?" Anna asked softly, her sleepy brown eyes suddenly vulnerable.
"Ahhh," Sark sighed, running his hands over his face. "I don't know."
Anna rubbed her cheek into the cushiony pillow, feeling incredibly exhausted, despite her sleep. She looked at Sark across the room, both of them lying parallel, their heads on the bright white pillows. She had to do it. "Sark....can I tell you something?"
He sensed the urgency in her voice, realizing what Anna was about to say was not something trivial. He propped his head up on his elbow, smiling for her to continue.
"Everything that has happened....what's happened and, I guess, what hasn't happened—there is something that you need to know. I—for the past—,"
There was a knock on the glass windows and Dr. Hayward flashed them a series of files stamped 'Cleared'. "Both of your test results were fine. Everything seems normal. You're free to go. If you feel anything out of the ordinary, report back here, but other than that you're in the clear."
Anna stood up, feeling flustered. "Are there any known symptoms that we should watch for?"
"Only extreme ones. Coughing up blood seems to be the first indicator. But like I've said, neither of you should worry. All your results are standard and you're in perfect health," Dr. Hayward answered, looked exhausted and hurried.
Anna and Sark both gave their thanks, allowing the doctor to get on with whatever it was he needed. She grabbed her bag, heading to the door but pausing to turn back towards Sark. "Good luck. With Weiss, I mean. I'll...uh...I'll see you around," she finished solidly, her smile small and agreeable.
******
Anna, for the first time in weeks, felt happy. It'd been a week since her forced isolation with Sark and she'd never felt better. She actually found herself singing as she dressed for work after a long, hot shower.
She was glad she hadn't had a chance to finish what she was going to say to Sark. Whatever that might have been, she had no idea. Nor did she want to know. And now she felt free of him, of the conflicting feelings that had kept her up nights. "If I just breathe, let it fill the space between, I'll know everything is alright, breathe, every little piece of me, you'll see, everything is alright, if I just breathe..." sang Anna, but was cut off with a bout of coughing. She and Francie had been at a bar the previous night that was completely filled with cigarette smoke so it was no surprise that her lungs were reacting now. But the coughing didn't end and she grabbed onto the corners of the counter, her head hanging over the sink. Finally, she gave it one last heave, her eyes drifting to the bottom of the sink. It was stained red. Anna eyes widened as she looked in the mirror, seeing a tiny trail of dark blood drift from her mouth. She'd coughed up blood.