"It's not your fault."
"Because you care. God, you probably helped Sloane get away with them," Anna said accusingly.
Sark ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes following her agitated hand movements. "You know that the CIA denies me access to computers. Not to mention, they tail me wherever I go, even in the house."
Though she felt slightly regretful, Anna bit her tongue from saying it. Though she could not deny is helpfulness and willingness to cede information and go on missions to thwart Sloane's plans, seeds of doubt about Sark's true alliance still lay in her mind. "Yeah, I know. Anyway, I just can't fathom how he got those codes! Only you and I knew them, and there was no way that you could have transferred them to Sloane, even if you wanted to."
"Are you actually testifying my innocence? I'm impressed. Perhaps, you've finally seen the light."
"Get over it. This time, yes, there was no way you could have been working for Sloane and I have every intention of telling Kendall that if he questions you. Don't get excited. I still don't trust you." She paused, her thoughts wandering to their failed mission. After several successes since Anna and Sark had reunited professionally, Sloane had somehow gained the access codes and managed to steal the contents of an underground vault in Taipei just a minute before Anna and Sark reached it. Anna slammed her hand on the desk, feeling the blood pound in her veins. "Damnit. This was my fault. Sloane is now in posession of nuclear weapons--I should've....why didn't I...,"
"There's something else." Sark leaned back in his chair, passing her a folder stamped "Classified". "Apparently, there was something hidden within the core of one of the four weapons that Sloane stole from the facility."
Anna thumbed through the pages, looking at the translation of the various Rambaldi pages and artifact lists. "What?"
Sark rubbed the back of his neck, grinding his teeth simultaneously. "A Rambaldi artifact," he spoke finally. "Apparently, it's one of the final pieces that connects everything together. From his writings, Rambaldi states that this item will determine the Passenger and, as you know, the bringer of all evil, etcetera, etcetera. Also, and don't overreact here, as I expect you will--,"
"I do not overreact," Anna insisted, beginning to lose her composure. Weapons, Rambaldi, and now Sark was telling her that she's overdramatic?!
"Rrrright. Anyway, Jack and Dixon think that this thing--whatever it is, will bring harm to Sydney, what with her direct link to the prophecy--"
"Sydney is the Passenger. I get it. They think that if this thing somehow...jives with her that it will eliminate her, destroy her--like a failsafe. Christ. And Sloane has this?" Anna closed her eyes, letting the guilt for putting her friend in extreme harm envelop her. Anna couldn't let her best friend be ruined by a 'prophet' that lived hundreds of years ago. "We need to get it back. And destroy it," she insisted suddenly as she slammed the folder closed, feeling determination course through her.
Sark sighed, inwardly admiring her endless drive and energy, even in the face of defeat. "It turns out that Sloane has strayed from the weapons and is now somewhere...we don't know where. The weapons, meanwhile, lay within an airborne facility."
Anna's eyebrows rose up, as she bit her lip. "Wait. Airborne?"
"When I worked under Sloane, most of his most critical assets were aboard a jet that landed only to refuel. This is most likely why the CIA was unable to acquire many of Sloane's assets after the downfall of SD-6," Sark explained, his tone straightforward.
Anna drummed her fingers on the desk, the wheels in her mind turning intensively. "We're getting on the plane. I have a plan."
Sark tossed an apprehensive glance her way. "We? Why is it that everytime you say that, I feel nervous?"
"Get up. We're going to see Kendall. You still have your old contacts, right? They don't know you've switched sides?"
"Yes," Sark said slowly, not exactly sure what Anna was planning.
"Excellent! Hurry up!" She motioned for him to stand up quickly as she threw some files and loose papers in her briefcase.
"You are so demanding."
Anna rolled her eyes, smiling. She felt confident that Kendall would approve her plan. If she could get back the weapons and the Rambaldi piece, then she could save her friend and redeem herself in her own eyes. It would all work out. It had to.
**********
"Alright, so Sark'll be on the ground, claiming to want to cut a deal with Esperanto...this works...now, we just have to figure out a way to phsyically get on that plane," said Anna, kicking her feet up on the large, glossy table of the debrief room.
"Parker, get your feet off that damn table!" Kendall said authoritatively.
Anna popped her bubblegum loudly and then smiled brightly at her boss. "Yeah, listen, about that...I really don't think you get to make demands..." Kendall stared at her for a moment before quickly shielding his surprise at her comment. Anna continued to grin. "After all, you're not the one on a jet packed with nukes miles high in the sky, now are you?"
Kendall had a murderous glint in his eye and Sark was convinced he was going to throttle Anna any second. 'When you return, we have got to have a serious talk about your trouble with authority, Parker."
"Blah, blah, blah. Can we please focus on the issue at hand?" asked Anna, gesturing with her hands. "How can I get on this plane? Ideas?"
Jack Bristow looked down at the shiny table, his mouth set in a firm, straight line. "We thought of having you set up as a maintenance crew but apparently routine maintenance was just completed last week."
Marshall began to fidget in his seat, his head moving side to side quickly. "Hey, how about if she, you know, goes on as a pilot? Ms. Parker, Anna, sorry, Agent Parker, you do know how to fly a plane, although how you do is beyond me--that whole being in charge of hundreds of people's lives and keeping them from all plummeting to their deaths is way above--."
Anna and Sark hid their amusement as Kendall nixed Marshall's plan. "That won't work. Esperanto's boss, the man currently on the plane until Sloane returns, Edward Kirsch, specifically has a list of personal pilots that have worked for him for decades. If we make a switch, he will know."
Anna groaned, feeling frustrated. "Well, we've got to think of something. I want to be on that plane tonight!"
Sark put his elbows on the table, melding his palms together. "I may have an idea." He stopped, shooting a glance across the table at Anna. "You're not going to like it."
Anna tossed her hair, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Last time you said that I was trapped in the trunk of a car for 12 hours."
"No, really. This plan, according to what Esperanto has told me--it should work. I need to confirm it, however. But it's kind of a see-it-to-believe- it-kind-of-thing. Give me 30 minutes," Sark insisted, looking towards Kendall for approval as he rose from his seat quickly.
Kendall nodded his head reluctantly. "If no one has anything else...so be it."
Anna watched Sark's retreating figure curiously. What was this plan of his?
***********
"Fran--I got it!" Anna lunged to pull the front door open just as she finished zipping up her travel bag. The bag fell to the floor with a resounding thump as she saw the person standing expectantly on the steps. "What are you doing here? You can't be here."
"Great manners, Anna. Truly astounding," said Sark, as he pushed past her and into the open foyer. "I said a half-hour and I return only to find that you left. This is your big idea and yet you are unprepared! We are on a limited time schedule," he scolded her.
Anna spun around, blocking him from moving any further into the house. "This is my home. You have no role in this part of my life! Let's just go," she whispered firmly, feeling flustered that Julian Sark was standing in her living room.
Sark jumped away as Anna reached for his arm to pull him from the living room. He wandered over to the coffee table, setting a white, crisp shopping back on top of it. "First, you need to see this...do not get angry. It's for the...trip." He pulled out a small item from the bag, wrapped carefully in tissue paper, and as he took off the paper, he held it up gingerly.
"You. Are. Kidding. Me." Anna looked at the tiny, barely visible fabric that made up a very suggestive and provocative piece of lingerie. "This is your master plan?!" she pronounced incredulously, trying to keep her voice low. "I am not wearing that. End of story."
"Kirsch does have the plan landed, once every week. It's under the radar but Esperanto informed me that if I supply one of 'my women'--,"
Anna's ponytail whipped to one side as she threw her head sideways, forcing herself to stay cool. "You have women? I am not your woman!"
Sark tossed aside the lacy lingerie, walking around the small coffee table to face her. "It works like this. If I give Kirsch something, he'll give me something. However, instead of some random woman, we're going to get you on the plane--this way, you can get those nukes and I can have my meeting with Esperanto to get the info on Sloane and the codes we'll need....all you have to do is get on the plane, and get close enough to drug Kirsch."
Anna's eyes narrowed as she considered his idea. "And the guards? The pilots?"
"I'm sure a little intimidation works well. It's Kirsch you have to keep down. Otherwise, he'll notify Sloane and you'll lose your chance of getting him."
"Don't you mean 'we'?" Anna questioned suspiciously, casting him a sidelong glance as she disdainfully lifted up the lingerie.
Sark rolled his eyes. "You. We. Me. Whatever. Oh, and by the way, I took the liberty of selecting a few others. Apparently, Kirsch is quite...selective," Sark added, a smirk touching his lips.
Anna's facial muscles twitched and Sark could see that she was restraining herself, her mouth opening to say something. But she was stopped, as a young woman entered the living room. Anna masked her shock quickly, planting a relaxed smile on her face as she tossed the lingerie back in the bag. "Hey, Francie, this is...Julian, from the bank. We're actually leaving for San Diego--he just brought the company car to pick me up." Francie gave an easy smile, quickly glancing at her friend's co-worker. "I think Anna's mentioned you before."
Anna cringed inwardly, realizing that Sark would not let this go. She grabbed her bag and passport from the shelf and nodded towards Sark. "Let's go."
Sark ignored her words and held out his hand to Francie. "Pleasure to meet you, Francie." Anna rolled her eyes slightly, although even she had to admit that he sounded quite charming.
As they headed toward the door, Anna looked back at her friend, who was mouthing "That's him?" and making an "A-OK" symbol with her fingers. Anna shook her head, chuckling quietly, as they descended the front stairs.
"So you talk about me?" Sark inferred immediately, getting in to the black Sedan. "How enchanting."
Anna sighed, trying to figure out a way to explain herself. "In passing. You know--'there's this total jerk at work', and so on."
"Whatever you say, Parker. But honestly, I'm touched." Sark pulled out the driveway with ease, as Anna tossed him a casual glance.
"Honestly, don't be," she said in a sing-song voice, pausing thoughtfully for a moment afterwards. "But thanks, for being cool, and all that."
Sark's eyes focused on the road infront of them. "It's not my first day on the job...So that's where you live."
Anna leaned back comfortably in her seat, watching the simple houses and lawns zip by. "What did you think it would look like? I do have a life outside the CIA."
"Funny. I know that. It's just...it was cozy, quaint even!" Sark replied, shrugging his shoulders cheerfully for emphasis.
Anna smirked. "Well, I guess it beats your past and future home of cement and bars."
Sark whistled, a smile threatening to cross his mouth. "You're sharp today. Keep it up and Kirsch will just love you."
"Oh God, don't remind me. Not to mention, I get to look like a trashy prostitute while doing my job. This is fabulous."
"If the shoe fits...," Sark trailed off, flashing Anna a wide grin as she slapped him on the shoulder playfully.
"Shut up. It's your fault! Christ, could you have picked anything with less material? How'd you know my size anyway?" she asked, her hands running over the smooth front of the bag.
"A natural gift, I suppose. I can just tell--,"
Anna shook her head, looking down at her lap. "You're a sleaze and a half!"
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."
"Ah, denying reality. Your favorite pasttime."
Sark shot her a look as he pulled into the hanger where the plane was located. "Do you want to review the mission?"
Anna climbed from the vehicle, pulling out her bags. She tapped the shopping bag with the lingerie inside. "I think it's pretty self- explanatory. Besides, do I ever need to review the missions?" she answered confidently.
"It's arrogance like that that'll get you killed." He followed her into the plane and they settled comfortably in two leather seats across from one another.
"You might want to clean up your bleeding heart." Sark met Anna's willful eyes, not removing his gaze. "Think of it this way, darling. If you die, the CIA will not hesitate to toss me into lockdown again. I don't plan on going there again. Ever." He turned from her, swearing to himself that he would never again be behind bars. It was an experience he did not care to repeat.
But there was more to it than just his own fear of incarceration. For some unexplicable reason, he had a tiny knot in his stomach that was directly related to this mission. Something was going to happen but he had no idea what.
Anna flicked her eyes up from her book, watching Sark gaze distractedly out the window. She wondered what he was thinking, his expression so focused and long lines running in his forehead. She flicked through the pages aimlessly, unable to concentrate on the long rows of words as an unfamiliar feeling rested in her mind and body. Worry. This mission worried her and she had no idea why—
"You said my first name. I'd never heard you say it before, which is bizarre, considering I call you by yours all the time."
Anna looked up, surprised he had noticed she'd referred to him as Julian. "Yeah, even though it's against policy. But I've given up. No matter how many times I've told you it's Agent Parker, you insist on calling me Anna....don't expect me to start calling you 'Julian' now..."
"I wouldn't have expected it. Besides, my last name--well it's just so much more evil, wouldn't you agree?" he replied, smiling.
Anna laughed. "I think Marshall would. When hears the words 'Mr. Sark', he almost has a panic attack then and there. It'd be cute...if he weren't truly scared he was on your hitlist! Ahhh...I knew a Julian once. Spoiled, arrogant, convinced he was God's gift to cursive writing--Gosh, he's sounding like someone else...someone that may even share the same name!"
"Hey, not me!" he interrupted, laughing and gesturing outwards with his hands. "My cursive writing is less than stellar. Oh and it's not arrogance, it's charm."
"Is that what they call it now? Anyway, if I'm remembering correctly, this kid was a nasty little troublemaker. Similarities abound."
"Or maybe it's just that you have an unnatural attraction to troublemakers!"
Anna's eyes widened and she could feel her cheeks turning pink. "Oh yeah...right," she said lamely. They both smiled shyly and Anna returned, flustered, to her book. Oh yeah...right. That's the best you could do, she berated herself.
"Birdsong. Is it good?" Sark interrupted her thoughts, looking calm and cool. He took the book from her hands, running his thumb along the title. "War?"
"Yes and yes." Anna smiled slightly, glad for the change of topic. "It's about this man who falls in love with this woman but it's just not meant to be and she ends up leaving him. Then, World War I comes and he enlists, never knowing what happened to her. It's amazing, really. The writing...you can feel not just the grit and pure horror of war but the souls that were lost. And actually, it just got really good!" She stopped, grabbed the book back from his hands, searching for the page she was on.
Sark watched her for a moment; the way her eyes flickered in the light and her sensuous lips curved into a smile, showing straight, white teeth. She was excited. He'd seen her sad. He'd seen her frustrated. And he'd definitely seen her angry. But she'd been hiding happiness and excitement, which was probably a good thing because he had to admit that with her pure, untouched radiance in those moments, who could help just completely falling in—
"There. Ok. Right. I remember this. So then guess what happens? Somehow the guy meets up with his old lover's sister and she takes him to see her. He's shocked and still totally in love her. Not to mention, he's dealing with the war and watching his friends be brutally killed," Anna said breathlessly.
"Sounds like a real up-lifter. Might want to take a pistol to the head after reading that."
She exaggeratedly lifted her eyes up to the ceiling, slamming the book shut. "Maybe you just can't appreciate good literature. You should read this. But it probably will have zero effect on you. You're like a forcefield. Nothing gets through," she said nonchalantly, stretching her arms above her head.
Sark cocked his head, her words startling him. "What do you mean?"
Anna sat forward in her chair, hands wound together. "Yeah, ok, so bullets and wounds affect you. Big deal. But see, you're cold. Completely cold. Nothing touches you...which I suppose is why you're so effective at what you do." She breathed out deeply, standing up. "But, I mean, whatever. We've had the discussion before. No need to repeat it...I should, uh, get ready for this." Anna headed to the bathroom, spinning around before she opened the door. "Oh, and just so you know, I totally plan on getting my revenge," she added lightheartedly, holding up the lacy material.
Sark laughed as he settled back in his seat, stretching his legs luxuriously. He closed his eyes and just sat peacefully and mindlessly, quickly drifting into unconsciousness.
**** He saw a woman standing with her back to him in a bright room, sun streaming through the wide windows. Her face was shielded by a simple white veil. Large mirrors formed a semi-circle around her, as she moved side-to- side, her pure white dress swishing gently across the hardwood. Sark stepped slowly towards her, captivated by the way the sun touched the woman, making her an angel of light. As he reached out to touch her shoulder, some sort of invisible force made him unable to reach out to her. Sark heard his father's raw, rough voice call out to him, telling him he'd never have anything, that he was nothing, worthless...The woman drifted away from him as the light dimmed and the walls enclosed on him. The sound of a door slamming shut thundered in his ears, mixing with the voice of his father. He could hear a child crying for help as he pounded on the door, wanting out of this dark, inhibiting room. That wasn't just a child. That was him. ****
Sark shot awake, touching his skin, feeling beads of sweat resting on his forehead. It was just a dream, just a dream, he told himself, trying to steady his breathing. It was odd. He hadn't dreamt about his father in months, not since he'd been with the CIA. Why now? Why was that terrifying memory of being locked in the closet coming back to him now?
He rubbed his palms together, shaking the thoughts from his mind. He couldn't dwell in the past. Sark had to think about the future. He jumped out, giving himself a quick shake to rid himself of any remnants of that dream.
Sark turned the knob of the bathroom door, finding it was locked. She must still be in there. "Anna, come on. I actually fell asleep and woke up and you're still in here. How long can it take?!" he called to her.
The door swung open forcefully and Anna stepped into the doorway, finishing tying a robe loosely around her body. "Trashy, huh? You will pay!" Her normally straight hair now framed her face in large curls and her face was glowing in the harsh light of the bathroom.
The plan sputtered to the left and Anna lost her balance, tumbling into Sark, who managed to steady himself into the wall behind him. He held onto her waist with one hand, his other reaching up to her the back of her neck as the plane continued to veer to the left. Anna tried to ignore the touch of his hands on her body and the sounds of their hearts beating loudly in sync. She wasn't scared at all. Finally, the ground was steady and Anna pulled away from him, grabbing onto each side of the bathroom doorway, her breaths short and uneven. The ties of her robe had come undone, exposing a tan, athletic body barely covered with deep red lace. Sark's eyes followed her curves, lingering on the glimpses of her smooth neck and shoulders.
"I thought red was better than the virginal white," she murmured softly. Sark crossed the few feet that separated them, putting his hands firmly on her waist as her brown eyes looked up at him, vulnerable.
"Red is always a good choice."
...To be continued...
"Because you care. God, you probably helped Sloane get away with them," Anna said accusingly.
Sark ran his tongue over his lips, his eyes following her agitated hand movements. "You know that the CIA denies me access to computers. Not to mention, they tail me wherever I go, even in the house."
Though she felt slightly regretful, Anna bit her tongue from saying it. Though she could not deny is helpfulness and willingness to cede information and go on missions to thwart Sloane's plans, seeds of doubt about Sark's true alliance still lay in her mind. "Yeah, I know. Anyway, I just can't fathom how he got those codes! Only you and I knew them, and there was no way that you could have transferred them to Sloane, even if you wanted to."
"Are you actually testifying my innocence? I'm impressed. Perhaps, you've finally seen the light."
"Get over it. This time, yes, there was no way you could have been working for Sloane and I have every intention of telling Kendall that if he questions you. Don't get excited. I still don't trust you." She paused, her thoughts wandering to their failed mission. After several successes since Anna and Sark had reunited professionally, Sloane had somehow gained the access codes and managed to steal the contents of an underground vault in Taipei just a minute before Anna and Sark reached it. Anna slammed her hand on the desk, feeling the blood pound in her veins. "Damnit. This was my fault. Sloane is now in posession of nuclear weapons--I should've....why didn't I...,"
"There's something else." Sark leaned back in his chair, passing her a folder stamped "Classified". "Apparently, there was something hidden within the core of one of the four weapons that Sloane stole from the facility."
Anna thumbed through the pages, looking at the translation of the various Rambaldi pages and artifact lists. "What?"
Sark rubbed the back of his neck, grinding his teeth simultaneously. "A Rambaldi artifact," he spoke finally. "Apparently, it's one of the final pieces that connects everything together. From his writings, Rambaldi states that this item will determine the Passenger and, as you know, the bringer of all evil, etcetera, etcetera. Also, and don't overreact here, as I expect you will--,"
"I do not overreact," Anna insisted, beginning to lose her composure. Weapons, Rambaldi, and now Sark was telling her that she's overdramatic?!
"Rrrright. Anyway, Jack and Dixon think that this thing--whatever it is, will bring harm to Sydney, what with her direct link to the prophecy--"
"Sydney is the Passenger. I get it. They think that if this thing somehow...jives with her that it will eliminate her, destroy her--like a failsafe. Christ. And Sloane has this?" Anna closed her eyes, letting the guilt for putting her friend in extreme harm envelop her. Anna couldn't let her best friend be ruined by a 'prophet' that lived hundreds of years ago. "We need to get it back. And destroy it," she insisted suddenly as she slammed the folder closed, feeling determination course through her.
Sark sighed, inwardly admiring her endless drive and energy, even in the face of defeat. "It turns out that Sloane has strayed from the weapons and is now somewhere...we don't know where. The weapons, meanwhile, lay within an airborne facility."
Anna's eyebrows rose up, as she bit her lip. "Wait. Airborne?"
"When I worked under Sloane, most of his most critical assets were aboard a jet that landed only to refuel. This is most likely why the CIA was unable to acquire many of Sloane's assets after the downfall of SD-6," Sark explained, his tone straightforward.
Anna drummed her fingers on the desk, the wheels in her mind turning intensively. "We're getting on the plane. I have a plan."
Sark tossed an apprehensive glance her way. "We? Why is it that everytime you say that, I feel nervous?"
"Get up. We're going to see Kendall. You still have your old contacts, right? They don't know you've switched sides?"
"Yes," Sark said slowly, not exactly sure what Anna was planning.
"Excellent! Hurry up!" She motioned for him to stand up quickly as she threw some files and loose papers in her briefcase.
"You are so demanding."
Anna rolled her eyes, smiling. She felt confident that Kendall would approve her plan. If she could get back the weapons and the Rambaldi piece, then she could save her friend and redeem herself in her own eyes. It would all work out. It had to.
**********
"Alright, so Sark'll be on the ground, claiming to want to cut a deal with Esperanto...this works...now, we just have to figure out a way to phsyically get on that plane," said Anna, kicking her feet up on the large, glossy table of the debrief room.
"Parker, get your feet off that damn table!" Kendall said authoritatively.
Anna popped her bubblegum loudly and then smiled brightly at her boss. "Yeah, listen, about that...I really don't think you get to make demands..." Kendall stared at her for a moment before quickly shielding his surprise at her comment. Anna continued to grin. "After all, you're not the one on a jet packed with nukes miles high in the sky, now are you?"
Kendall had a murderous glint in his eye and Sark was convinced he was going to throttle Anna any second. 'When you return, we have got to have a serious talk about your trouble with authority, Parker."
"Blah, blah, blah. Can we please focus on the issue at hand?" asked Anna, gesturing with her hands. "How can I get on this plane? Ideas?"
Jack Bristow looked down at the shiny table, his mouth set in a firm, straight line. "We thought of having you set up as a maintenance crew but apparently routine maintenance was just completed last week."
Marshall began to fidget in his seat, his head moving side to side quickly. "Hey, how about if she, you know, goes on as a pilot? Ms. Parker, Anna, sorry, Agent Parker, you do know how to fly a plane, although how you do is beyond me--that whole being in charge of hundreds of people's lives and keeping them from all plummeting to their deaths is way above--."
Anna and Sark hid their amusement as Kendall nixed Marshall's plan. "That won't work. Esperanto's boss, the man currently on the plane until Sloane returns, Edward Kirsch, specifically has a list of personal pilots that have worked for him for decades. If we make a switch, he will know."
Anna groaned, feeling frustrated. "Well, we've got to think of something. I want to be on that plane tonight!"
Sark put his elbows on the table, melding his palms together. "I may have an idea." He stopped, shooting a glance across the table at Anna. "You're not going to like it."
Anna tossed her hair, her eyes wide with anticipation. "Last time you said that I was trapped in the trunk of a car for 12 hours."
"No, really. This plan, according to what Esperanto has told me--it should work. I need to confirm it, however. But it's kind of a see-it-to-believe- it-kind-of-thing. Give me 30 minutes," Sark insisted, looking towards Kendall for approval as he rose from his seat quickly.
Kendall nodded his head reluctantly. "If no one has anything else...so be it."
Anna watched Sark's retreating figure curiously. What was this plan of his?
***********
"Fran--I got it!" Anna lunged to pull the front door open just as she finished zipping up her travel bag. The bag fell to the floor with a resounding thump as she saw the person standing expectantly on the steps. "What are you doing here? You can't be here."
"Great manners, Anna. Truly astounding," said Sark, as he pushed past her and into the open foyer. "I said a half-hour and I return only to find that you left. This is your big idea and yet you are unprepared! We are on a limited time schedule," he scolded her.
Anna spun around, blocking him from moving any further into the house. "This is my home. You have no role in this part of my life! Let's just go," she whispered firmly, feeling flustered that Julian Sark was standing in her living room.
Sark jumped away as Anna reached for his arm to pull him from the living room. He wandered over to the coffee table, setting a white, crisp shopping back on top of it. "First, you need to see this...do not get angry. It's for the...trip." He pulled out a small item from the bag, wrapped carefully in tissue paper, and as he took off the paper, he held it up gingerly.
"You. Are. Kidding. Me." Anna looked at the tiny, barely visible fabric that made up a very suggestive and provocative piece of lingerie. "This is your master plan?!" she pronounced incredulously, trying to keep her voice low. "I am not wearing that. End of story."
"Kirsch does have the plan landed, once every week. It's under the radar but Esperanto informed me that if I supply one of 'my women'--,"
Anna's ponytail whipped to one side as she threw her head sideways, forcing herself to stay cool. "You have women? I am not your woman!"
Sark tossed aside the lacy lingerie, walking around the small coffee table to face her. "It works like this. If I give Kirsch something, he'll give me something. However, instead of some random woman, we're going to get you on the plane--this way, you can get those nukes and I can have my meeting with Esperanto to get the info on Sloane and the codes we'll need....all you have to do is get on the plane, and get close enough to drug Kirsch."
Anna's eyes narrowed as she considered his idea. "And the guards? The pilots?"
"I'm sure a little intimidation works well. It's Kirsch you have to keep down. Otherwise, he'll notify Sloane and you'll lose your chance of getting him."
"Don't you mean 'we'?" Anna questioned suspiciously, casting him a sidelong glance as she disdainfully lifted up the lingerie.
Sark rolled his eyes. "You. We. Me. Whatever. Oh, and by the way, I took the liberty of selecting a few others. Apparently, Kirsch is quite...selective," Sark added, a smirk touching his lips.
Anna's facial muscles twitched and Sark could see that she was restraining herself, her mouth opening to say something. But she was stopped, as a young woman entered the living room. Anna masked her shock quickly, planting a relaxed smile on her face as she tossed the lingerie back in the bag. "Hey, Francie, this is...Julian, from the bank. We're actually leaving for San Diego--he just brought the company car to pick me up." Francie gave an easy smile, quickly glancing at her friend's co-worker. "I think Anna's mentioned you before."
Anna cringed inwardly, realizing that Sark would not let this go. She grabbed her bag and passport from the shelf and nodded towards Sark. "Let's go."
Sark ignored her words and held out his hand to Francie. "Pleasure to meet you, Francie." Anna rolled her eyes slightly, although even she had to admit that he sounded quite charming.
As they headed toward the door, Anna looked back at her friend, who was mouthing "That's him?" and making an "A-OK" symbol with her fingers. Anna shook her head, chuckling quietly, as they descended the front stairs.
"So you talk about me?" Sark inferred immediately, getting in to the black Sedan. "How enchanting."
Anna sighed, trying to figure out a way to explain herself. "In passing. You know--'there's this total jerk at work', and so on."
"Whatever you say, Parker. But honestly, I'm touched." Sark pulled out the driveway with ease, as Anna tossed him a casual glance.
"Honestly, don't be," she said in a sing-song voice, pausing thoughtfully for a moment afterwards. "But thanks, for being cool, and all that."
Sark's eyes focused on the road infront of them. "It's not my first day on the job...So that's where you live."
Anna leaned back comfortably in her seat, watching the simple houses and lawns zip by. "What did you think it would look like? I do have a life outside the CIA."
"Funny. I know that. It's just...it was cozy, quaint even!" Sark replied, shrugging his shoulders cheerfully for emphasis.
Anna smirked. "Well, I guess it beats your past and future home of cement and bars."
Sark whistled, a smile threatening to cross his mouth. "You're sharp today. Keep it up and Kirsch will just love you."
"Oh God, don't remind me. Not to mention, I get to look like a trashy prostitute while doing my job. This is fabulous."
"If the shoe fits...," Sark trailed off, flashing Anna a wide grin as she slapped him on the shoulder playfully.
"Shut up. It's your fault! Christ, could you have picked anything with less material? How'd you know my size anyway?" she asked, her hands running over the smooth front of the bag.
"A natural gift, I suppose. I can just tell--,"
Anna shook her head, looking down at her lap. "You're a sleaze and a half!"
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."
"Ah, denying reality. Your favorite pasttime."
Sark shot her a look as he pulled into the hanger where the plane was located. "Do you want to review the mission?"
Anna climbed from the vehicle, pulling out her bags. She tapped the shopping bag with the lingerie inside. "I think it's pretty self- explanatory. Besides, do I ever need to review the missions?" she answered confidently.
"It's arrogance like that that'll get you killed." He followed her into the plane and they settled comfortably in two leather seats across from one another.
"You might want to clean up your bleeding heart." Sark met Anna's willful eyes, not removing his gaze. "Think of it this way, darling. If you die, the CIA will not hesitate to toss me into lockdown again. I don't plan on going there again. Ever." He turned from her, swearing to himself that he would never again be behind bars. It was an experience he did not care to repeat.
But there was more to it than just his own fear of incarceration. For some unexplicable reason, he had a tiny knot in his stomach that was directly related to this mission. Something was going to happen but he had no idea what.
Anna flicked her eyes up from her book, watching Sark gaze distractedly out the window. She wondered what he was thinking, his expression so focused and long lines running in his forehead. She flicked through the pages aimlessly, unable to concentrate on the long rows of words as an unfamiliar feeling rested in her mind and body. Worry. This mission worried her and she had no idea why—
"You said my first name. I'd never heard you say it before, which is bizarre, considering I call you by yours all the time."
Anna looked up, surprised he had noticed she'd referred to him as Julian. "Yeah, even though it's against policy. But I've given up. No matter how many times I've told you it's Agent Parker, you insist on calling me Anna....don't expect me to start calling you 'Julian' now..."
"I wouldn't have expected it. Besides, my last name--well it's just so much more evil, wouldn't you agree?" he replied, smiling.
Anna laughed. "I think Marshall would. When hears the words 'Mr. Sark', he almost has a panic attack then and there. It'd be cute...if he weren't truly scared he was on your hitlist! Ahhh...I knew a Julian once. Spoiled, arrogant, convinced he was God's gift to cursive writing--Gosh, he's sounding like someone else...someone that may even share the same name!"
"Hey, not me!" he interrupted, laughing and gesturing outwards with his hands. "My cursive writing is less than stellar. Oh and it's not arrogance, it's charm."
"Is that what they call it now? Anyway, if I'm remembering correctly, this kid was a nasty little troublemaker. Similarities abound."
"Or maybe it's just that you have an unnatural attraction to troublemakers!"
Anna's eyes widened and she could feel her cheeks turning pink. "Oh yeah...right," she said lamely. They both smiled shyly and Anna returned, flustered, to her book. Oh yeah...right. That's the best you could do, she berated herself.
"Birdsong. Is it good?" Sark interrupted her thoughts, looking calm and cool. He took the book from her hands, running his thumb along the title. "War?"
"Yes and yes." Anna smiled slightly, glad for the change of topic. "It's about this man who falls in love with this woman but it's just not meant to be and she ends up leaving him. Then, World War I comes and he enlists, never knowing what happened to her. It's amazing, really. The writing...you can feel not just the grit and pure horror of war but the souls that were lost. And actually, it just got really good!" She stopped, grabbed the book back from his hands, searching for the page she was on.
Sark watched her for a moment; the way her eyes flickered in the light and her sensuous lips curved into a smile, showing straight, white teeth. She was excited. He'd seen her sad. He'd seen her frustrated. And he'd definitely seen her angry. But she'd been hiding happiness and excitement, which was probably a good thing because he had to admit that with her pure, untouched radiance in those moments, who could help just completely falling in—
"There. Ok. Right. I remember this. So then guess what happens? Somehow the guy meets up with his old lover's sister and she takes him to see her. He's shocked and still totally in love her. Not to mention, he's dealing with the war and watching his friends be brutally killed," Anna said breathlessly.
"Sounds like a real up-lifter. Might want to take a pistol to the head after reading that."
She exaggeratedly lifted her eyes up to the ceiling, slamming the book shut. "Maybe you just can't appreciate good literature. You should read this. But it probably will have zero effect on you. You're like a forcefield. Nothing gets through," she said nonchalantly, stretching her arms above her head.
Sark cocked his head, her words startling him. "What do you mean?"
Anna sat forward in her chair, hands wound together. "Yeah, ok, so bullets and wounds affect you. Big deal. But see, you're cold. Completely cold. Nothing touches you...which I suppose is why you're so effective at what you do." She breathed out deeply, standing up. "But, I mean, whatever. We've had the discussion before. No need to repeat it...I should, uh, get ready for this." Anna headed to the bathroom, spinning around before she opened the door. "Oh, and just so you know, I totally plan on getting my revenge," she added lightheartedly, holding up the lacy material.
Sark laughed as he settled back in his seat, stretching his legs luxuriously. He closed his eyes and just sat peacefully and mindlessly, quickly drifting into unconsciousness.
**** He saw a woman standing with her back to him in a bright room, sun streaming through the wide windows. Her face was shielded by a simple white veil. Large mirrors formed a semi-circle around her, as she moved side-to- side, her pure white dress swishing gently across the hardwood. Sark stepped slowly towards her, captivated by the way the sun touched the woman, making her an angel of light. As he reached out to touch her shoulder, some sort of invisible force made him unable to reach out to her. Sark heard his father's raw, rough voice call out to him, telling him he'd never have anything, that he was nothing, worthless...The woman drifted away from him as the light dimmed and the walls enclosed on him. The sound of a door slamming shut thundered in his ears, mixing with the voice of his father. He could hear a child crying for help as he pounded on the door, wanting out of this dark, inhibiting room. That wasn't just a child. That was him. ****
Sark shot awake, touching his skin, feeling beads of sweat resting on his forehead. It was just a dream, just a dream, he told himself, trying to steady his breathing. It was odd. He hadn't dreamt about his father in months, not since he'd been with the CIA. Why now? Why was that terrifying memory of being locked in the closet coming back to him now?
He rubbed his palms together, shaking the thoughts from his mind. He couldn't dwell in the past. Sark had to think about the future. He jumped out, giving himself a quick shake to rid himself of any remnants of that dream.
Sark turned the knob of the bathroom door, finding it was locked. She must still be in there. "Anna, come on. I actually fell asleep and woke up and you're still in here. How long can it take?!" he called to her.
The door swung open forcefully and Anna stepped into the doorway, finishing tying a robe loosely around her body. "Trashy, huh? You will pay!" Her normally straight hair now framed her face in large curls and her face was glowing in the harsh light of the bathroom.
The plan sputtered to the left and Anna lost her balance, tumbling into Sark, who managed to steady himself into the wall behind him. He held onto her waist with one hand, his other reaching up to her the back of her neck as the plane continued to veer to the left. Anna tried to ignore the touch of his hands on her body and the sounds of their hearts beating loudly in sync. She wasn't scared at all. Finally, the ground was steady and Anna pulled away from him, grabbing onto each side of the bathroom doorway, her breaths short and uneven. The ties of her robe had come undone, exposing a tan, athletic body barely covered with deep red lace. Sark's eyes followed her curves, lingering on the glimpses of her smooth neck and shoulders.
"I thought red was better than the virginal white," she murmured softly. Sark crossed the few feet that separated them, putting his hands firmly on her waist as her brown eyes looked up at him, vulnerable.
"Red is always a good choice."
...To be continued...