A/N: I'm getting to the best parts, IMO, now!!!! Thanks for your comments!
( Be warned, this is a long chapter.
Sark drove quickly, weaving in and out of the lanes, as he raced to reach Kirsch before the man either left his current location or, worse, realized Anna had tracked him and removed the device. Glancing at the small screen that blinked where Kirsch was, he pushed his foot harder on the gas pedal.
She had been innocent. She was just doing her job and it killed her. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly, trying to come to terms with the quick-paced events of the night. Part of him was entirely calm; casualties were a fair risk in their game and he knew that. But there was a small part of him that was not as settled concerning the death of Anna. Regret. Guilt. That part of Sark screamed to the rest of him that it was his plan to put her on the plane and his fault that she had been killed. The more rational, normal side of him reminded him that he hadn't agreed to work with the CIA to make friends. He was their prisoner, unwillingly for the most part and hence, he should be relishing in the satisfaction that one of their own was dead.
There was a small problem. Sark knew the CIA would come for him, blaming him for what had transpired that night, whether or not he declared his innocence. Removing the tracking device would only increase their belief of his guilt but, at least this way, he had more time to figure out his next move. There was the option of going into hiding but should the CIA, and most likely, Bristow, hunt him down, he would most likely be executed without question. On the other hand, he could gain what information he could from Kirsch and hand it over to the CIA, thus reinforcing his loyalty to the United States, and he could possibly even use it as a bargaining tool. Either way, Sark was well aware of the fact that he would shoulder the blame for Anna Parker's death. But he couldn't afford to be impaled with foreign emotions. Not now, not ever. As it always had been, it was time to look after himself.
Sark rolled to a stop a short distance before the dark, dodgy warehouse where Kirsch was supposed to be, according to the tracker.
He pulled out his gun, attentive to the slightest sound as he entered the bare warehouse. But it wasn't entirely empty. A large figure stood in the center, surrounded by material. Kirsch. "Drop it. Hands in the air."
Kirsch turned around slowly, his expression frowning. "Ah, Mr. Sark. Joined the CIA. Sorry to hear that, I was." He let go of his cell-phone and weapon; they hit the cement with a loud thud.
"I want some information. Give it to me and I'll make things less painful for you." Sark's voice was like cold steel.
Kirsch folded his hands rather casually, as though he was addressing an old friend. "Do you not want to know the fate of your partner?"
Sark stare remained unwavering though a cold shudder spread across his insides. "No games."
"How did you find me anyway? Give me that, at least. I thought my plan was good. Escape unnoticed, dispose of your little friend...I guess one out of two ain't bad," Kirsch baited him.
He took a few steps closer to Kirsch, his resolve fading.
"That little bitch...she put a tracking device on me, didn't she? Ha. Now I feel even better about blowing her into a thousand little pieces," Kirsch said snidely, sitting complacently in the middle of the floor. "A valiant effort on her part though--,"
Sark drove his gun into Kirsch's head briskly. "I would not, if I were you."
Kirsch massaged his head, lightly licking one of his bloodied fingers. "Kudos to her. She really tried. We actually had a good fight for a bit. She was a rough one, that one," Kirsch added, blatantly ignoring Sark's warning. "Not to mention damn pretty."
Sark bent down over Kirsch, nearly ready to keep him quiet permanently. But Kirsch took advantage of this opportunity and lunged for Sark's gun, wheedling it from his hand. Jumping up triumphantly, Kirsch aimed at Sark dead-on. "I never cared much for you. You're too young. Cocky. British. But no hard feelings, mate.
A shot ran into the quiet, night air.
Kirsch fell to the ground, hugging his wounded knee, which was oozing bright red blood onto the cool pavement. Sark leapt from the ground cautiously to look at the assailant, his eyes widening as the person revealed themselves from the shadows.
"You didn't really think it'd be that easy, did you, sweetheart?" Anna said tiredly to Kirsch, steadily aiming her gun at the two men before her though she limped slightly as she moved closer. "What a way to end our first date. Attempted murder. How sweet."
Sark took a hesitant step towards her, wondering how it was possible that she had survived the explosion on the plane. "How is this—,"
Anna held up her hand to stop him, grimacing slightly, as she was obviously pained by her knee. "Don't come any nearer...I don't what you're doing...or how you got here but I don't trust you. Not for one second. And don't think that I won't hesitate to blow you to pieces if you try anything."
Sark glanced from Anna to Kirsch and back again. "You think I betrayed the CIA. That I set this all up. And that I was going to kill Kirsch to dispose of the evidence," he surmised clearly.
"Smart boy. For months, I have been waiting for you to show your true allegiances," Anna said, her eyes fiery. Sark moved closer to her, watching as she evenly leveled the gun at his forehead. "You doubt me. Don't. I won't hesistate, Sark. Just give me a reason to shoot you and I will," she managed to spit out, her voice shaking ever so slightly.
His blue eyes met hers earnestly. "Anna, I did not betray the CIA. I watched the plane explode with Esperanto and then relayed to the CIA what I had seen. I then extracted the information we needed from Esperanto, who told me that Mr. Kirsch here was the key to finding Dresden, the man currently in possession of the artifact. Interestingly enough, Dresden is the only man who can decode it—only he knows what it can do and what it means! So yes, I did remove my tracker as well as the communications link to the CIA. But I had every intention of taking the information I learned from Kirsch—whom, might I had, you told me to go after—and relaying back to the CIA."
"Why break off with the CIA, then, if your big plan was to give all the information to them?" Anna demanded, still keeping her eyes on Kirsch.
Sark chewed on his bottom lip as he realized he was going to have to tell her what had happened with Esperanto. "My methods of extracting what I could from Esperanto were...slightly less than CIA-sanctioned."
"Oh my God," she sighed, closing her eyes for a blinking moment. "You didn't kill him, did you? Tell me you didn't." She took a quick look at Sark's face, which instantly told her the truth. His eyes dropped as Anna started shaking her head, appreciating now that they were deeper into this than she'd thought. "Oh, you did. God damnit, Sark!" He watched intently as she struggled with herself over whether or not to believe him. "How can I trust you...I could lose my job...you could kill me."
"You just have to." Sark took another tentative step towards her.
Kirsch coughed loudly from the ground as he pressed his hands over his knee to slow the bloodflow and Anna and Sark both gave him a fixed stare "I'm sorry to interrupt this heartbreaking moment for the two of you here but-- ,"
"Unless you're about to tell us where Alvin Dresden is, you can stay quiet," Anna interrupted. She bent down to him, resting her weight on her knees as she inspected his gushing wound. "Ouch. Looks like I hit an artery. You know, with blood loss like that, you have very little time unless you get medical assistance. Unfortunately--," she paused, reaching for his cell-phone laying near him, "I'm having trouble remembering the number for emergency services. Refresh my memory."
Kirsch groaned painfully. "You bitch, I should've killed you when--," he sputtered vengefully as he reached fiercely for Anna.
Sark jumped down and pulled on Kirsch's leg, causing more blood to pour out onto the tarmac. Kirsch released his grip on Anna as he writhed in pain, cursing endlessly.
Anna took a moment to catch her breath; she hadn't expected Kirsch to grab her like that. But more than that, she hadn't expected Sark to come to her rescue. Maybe he really hadn't betrayed the CIA. Or maybe he did and was now trying to fake her out by saving her in order to regain her trust. She came to the conclusion that she didn't have any other options. It was Sark, or nothing. Anna suddenly felt extremely light-headed; this was the night that never-ended.
Sark saw Anna begin to sway and he grabbed her arm, balancing her. When she was fine to stand on her own, he once again bent down to Kirsch, who now cowered in fear of him. "If you hurt her in any way and I find out about it, I won't show you the same grace she has. Be assured of that," Sark said maliciously and unaware to Anna. He returned to his normal voice, "Tell us where Dresden is or you will bleed to death. Out here. All alone. Pitiful."
Kirsch moaned again, but resigned himself to spilling the information he knew. "Dresden is in Vegas. The Mirage, room 547," he coughed out.
Anna smiled for the first time that evening. "Thanks, lover." She tossed him back his cellphone and started to walk away. She stopped and turned around, her eyes frighteningly cold. "If you're lying, we'll see eachother again." Her expression softened. "Honestly, Sark, hurry up!"
Sark licked his lips as he ran quickly over to her. He'd really believed she was going to leave him stranded there with Kirsch. "So I guess this means you believe me?"
Anna cocked her head at him, as she got into the driver's seat of the car he'd driven to find Kirsch. "Oh no no. This means that I'm desperate."
Sark slammed the car door shut. "Don't feel bad about it. We all find ourselves in desperation at some point. But you, you're somewhat attractive, and you pull a punch like no one--,"
"So it begins! It's going to be a long trip to Vegas. But you can tell me the whole long, torrid story of tonight on the plane," Anna interjected. But she was grinning.
"I still cannot accept that you had the time to jump from that plane. I mean, I saw the explosion; it was massive. I guess I'm just shocked you didn't get caught in the blast," Sark replied to Anna's story of survival. As she looked down timidly at her hands as they walked along the crowded street, he felt a small shiver of admiration course through him. He was impressed; she had a strong will to survive, despite what they'd both said earlier that night about her carelessness for her life.
Anna gave him a small smile. "I just barely made it! He literally left me for dead. I just--," she stopped, swallowing her words. She took a deep breath, her warm eyes lifting to his. "You all really thought I'd been killed?"
"I saw it and truly thought you'd perished. The CIA, Sydney—everyone thought you were gone."
Anna shook her head, her soft features becoming determined. "I need to call Syd. She's my best friend...she must be s—so...well, I have to contact the CIA too. Kendall will disappointed. I'm in perfect condition, minus a badly bruised knee!"
Sark tilted his head towards her, folding his arms as he slide into a slower pace to accommodate her injury. "Kirsch told me you fought back. You must have gone easy on him, if he was able to get off that plane!"
"Well, I like to save my bag of magic tricks for the finale. You know, don't spend it all in one place!"
He lifted his eyebrows questioningly. "Pardon me?"
"Oh, come on! Even your pompous-ass knows that one." Anna rolled her eyes as she glanced at his blank expression, cringing slightly as her weight shifted accidentally onto her bad knee.
"You're in pain." Sark eyes crinkled into concern as he offered to help her. Anna refused, turning away from him on the congested street just as her knee gave out. She felt her body begin to crumble, the sensation of falling passing over her.
But she didn't fall. "I got you," he said, steadying her with his strong hands. As they were trapped in that second, their bodies posed in the last moment before the end of a dance, with the graceful dip, an electric connection sizzled from one body to the other. Brown eyes met blue. Hands met soft skin. Darkness found light.
The moment passed quickly, though it felt like years to Anna. She calmed herself inwardly and managed to stabilize herself enough to walk. Sark too pulled away and looked anxiously at the beckoning shop signs, from casinos to convenience stores.
"God, Vegas is so tacky," Anna exclaimed, eyeing the bright lights, overblown buildings and eager tourists with disdain as she broke the uncomfortable silence.
Sark glanced up at the Mirage Hotel, nodding his head. "For once, I think we're in agreement.
"Honestly, it's like a big cheese-fest!"
"Cheese-fest? Interesting. I might have to borrow that sometime," Sark said amusedly, following her through the entrance of the hotel and casino.
Anna rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Ok, so we know how this is going down, right? We'll nab Dresden and then return to the CIA and explain everything. We'll clear your name." Anna bit her lip nervously, realizing she said "we". Though she hadn't turned him into the CIA automatically, she wasn't entirely ready to admit to him, or to herself, that she wanted to believe his innocence. More than ever, she was beginning to doubt her judgment.
But as she looked at his handsome, angular face, she realized that maybe it was time to stop the dichotomies, the binarisms. For some people, it was a way of living: to be on one side or the other, to think in terms of either- or. It made life simpler. There was the good and the bad and there was little doubt or confusion. But she'd nearly died and this time, she'd truly seen that there were more than two sides to living. Sometimes you had to take risks and chances, no matter how scary they seemed.
"I doubt they'll believe you--," Sark interrupted, pressing the elevator button.
"It will work out. Trust me!," she answered simply.
His brow furrowed as her words swam in his mind. No, he thought, there was no time for this. "Okay, 547, welcome." Sark started to make his way over to the door, squinting at the bolt on the door. "Can you pick this lock? I'm not familiar with this type."
Anna crept to the door, silencing him with her eyes and knocked. "Housekeeping." No answer. "First thing, love. Don't just go picking locks. We could have just had our heads blown off. Second thing. Can I pick a lock? Can I pick a lock!" Anna grabbed a hair pin from her pocket and was able to open the door within 8 seconds. She smirked up at Sark. "And people criticize junevile detention centers. I mean, really. Oh, I'm kidding. You need to lighten up."
They stepped into the hotel room, finding it completely devoid of personal items, except for a laptop resting on the coffee table in the center of the room.
Sark opened the top, noting that the computer was on. He whistled as he looked at what was on the screen. "You can stop searching, Anna. Dresden's imbeciles left their email open and it's all here. Our man is currently about to aboard a ship in the Caribbean for a short cruise. And guess what he has with him?"
Anna plopped down on the sofa beside Sark, peering at the computer screen. "What? We've got to go! Now!"
"Calm down there--,"
"I'm not going to calm down! That man is getting away with the artifact!"
"Listen!" Sark raised his voice, trying to make her understand. "Yes, Dresden has it. But Sloane does not know where he is. This is an email from Dresden to his men here, informing them that he not only has the artifact but was sent the codes by Sloane. Apparently, Dresden does not inform Sloane of his location for his own protection. So, we're actually ahead of Sloane."
Anna inhaled, her cheeks reddening from her outburst. "We need to get on that cruise and steal the artifact when he's finished doing whatever it is that needs to be done," she finished, gesturing wildly with her hands. She jumped up from her seat, forcing herself to ignore the throbbing pain in her knee. "We should go."
"Let's just read this one more time to get the location right" Sark replied wisely. The both memorized the cruise and ship names, phone numbers and exact location.
Anna felt a cool tingle spread down her back. "We've been made," she whispered, sensing the presence of others in the hotel room.
No sooner than her words, two heavily armed men began yelling at them in German to put their hands up and get on their knees. Anna began to lower herself to the ground, looking pointedly at Sark.
He caught her glance, hurling the vase from the table behind him at one of the men while Anna was able to grab her knife from her ankle and throw it into the shoulder of the other man. The latter's gun hit the floor in a barrage of bullets as Anna and Sark scurried out of the room, kicking the other gun a safe distance from either of the guys.
"This is not good," commented Anna, seeing three other gun-toting men coming from one end of the hallway. Sark hurriedly pressed the elevator button, sighing, relieved, when the doors opened, a sweet-looking elderly couple inside.
The elevator shut just as the men reached them, firing several rounds into the heavy, bullet-proof doors. Anna innocently at the horrified faces of the old man and woman. "Yeah...some people are just too lazy to go down the stairs."
Sark stifled a laugh, taking a few seconds to regain his strength. By now, the men from the fifth floor would probably have noticed the elevator was heading to the first floor and would be awaiting their arrival. "Excuse men , sir, "Sark began to the elderly man, eyeing his jacket. "How attached are you to that coat?"
"Hurry, in here!" Anna said to Sark, pushing open the doors to a large, brightly lit wedding chapel. The men were searching the entire ground floor for them, and had been a little defeated by their costume changes. Sark was now sporting a worn jacket that was short in the sleeves and a backwards hat he'd swiped as they "casually" passed the gift shop. Anna wore the sweater she'd had tied around her waist and a pair of classic, Audrey Hepburn-esque sunglasses, her hair piled messily on her head.
Glancing quickly at the mesh wall coverings and huge, plastic fluroescent flowers, Sark couldn't help but utter, "Jesus--,"
"Just come on!" She pulled on his arm tightly, her expression frantic. "In case you didn't notice, those guys had guns. Big ones. And I just like to take a sec to point out that we have nothing! Nothing! Not to mention, I can't exactly run here!"
The reverend at the head of the altar narrowed his eyes at them, silently willing them to be quiet. Shaking his head, he turned back to the couple before him, looking wildly excited in their rather odd outfits that adhered to an animal-printed Western theme. "I know pronounce you husband and wife." The man and woman looked at eachother moonily as the reverend slammed his bible shut and whipped out a receipt from his robe. "And that's $49.95 at the front desk please. Ooh and don't forget your already signed license. Next!" he bellowed loudly, peering at the few nervous looking couples huddling around the front desk.
An Asian man and his soon-to-be bride, complete with a 70s style rented veil, apprehensively creeped up the aisle. Anna and Sark spun around, still uncertain of where to go, and figuring that they had about 30 seconds before the two beefy men exploded into the tiny chapel. The chapel doors banged open and the two managed to hide their heads before they were seen, luckily blocked by the Asian couple, who were looking confusedly at Anna and Sark.
Anna snuck a look from the corners of her eyes, and seeing that they were checking the entrance, grabbed the bride's veil and slammed it on her own head. "Go," she whispered, rather harshly to the reverend. The woman touched her now bare hair and stuck her head between Anna and Sark, her eyes going back and forth questioningly. "Yeah....no. Thanks for the veil," Anna said quietly. "But you can be our witnesses....just stand a little to the left...no a little more...yes, perfect!"
Sark, looking mildly worried, started in on her, as he was not quite sure what her big plan was. "Anna—,"
"Shut up, will you! We don't actually have to get married! We just need to be covered. Relax!" Anna insisted, trying to keep her voice low and resist the urge to see where the men were. She stared straight at the reverend "Say something!"
"Sorry, I'm not—I mean, do you want to be married or not?" The reverend asked, opening and shutting his bible.
Sark could hear the guards approaching down the aisle, looking in every pew, their footsteps heavy. "Bloody hell, they're nearly here," he whispered into Anna's ear.
"Can you see them yet?" Anna adjusted the veil to better cover her face, bending towards him so their conversation was private. The minister tapped his watch impatiently.
"Yes," Sark said in a normal voice, turning his face towards her, as one of the men stealthy approached from the left.
"Alright then...if you're sure," The minister decided, putting on his glasses and reopening his bible. "Oops, before I forget, I need some identification and your signatures."
Sark tossed his and Anna's I.D.s into his bible, keeping his head down and cursing the Asian couple who were twitting back and forth as they argued over what Anna and Sark had done. He couldn't hear a thing.
"And sign here and here..." the reverend continued leisurely.
"Perfect. Keep your head down. Don't look up!" Anna murmured, her eyes blazing as she easily signed her name.
"Look who doubts who, now. Brilliant plan. They are going to find us, you realize that don't you," Sark muttered back, distractedly putting down his own signature.
Anna tilted her head ever so slightly to glare at him. "Well, your plans haven't always turned out perfectly, now have they?"
"...to unite this man and this woman in Holy matrimony..."
"Not perfectly. But they were better than this one, which is going to end up with us being identified by our dental records!" Sark hissed back. Both glowered at the other, unnoticed by the reverend, who carried on with his business.
Anna listened carefully, hearing the carpet crunch with approaching footsteps. "This is all your fault! You never know what the hell you're supposed to be doing!
"I do--," he was interrupted by Anna lowered, though volatile voice.
"Don't even start." "Why must you be so controlling all the time?"
"You mean rational?"
"No, I'm fairly certain I meant controlling, domineering....insufferable!" Sark exclaimed harshly.
Anna's eyes widened as she plotted her response, neither of them hearing the chapel door slam open again. "I'm insufferable! That's hilarious...You're the one--,"
"No, you're the one with the unbearable attitude of superiority, who always tries to impress others with your incredible plans and ideas!!!! Only not so much this time! Or any time!"
"I so do--," Anna was distracted with the loud sound of the bible clapping shut between the reverend's hands. "I so don't try to impress...wait, do you hear anything?"
"No...do you think they're gone? This may have worked..."
Anna took a deep, hopeful breath. "Then you'll owe me a big, fat thank you. I'm going to turn around...ready?"
Anna spun around to the front of the chapel slowly, and exhaled with relief when she saw that the men had left. Her plan had worked! She turned back to Sark, hands on her hips and eyes piercing his expectantly, "Now what was that you were saying?"
Sark opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as the minister reached down and joined his and Anna's hands, which they both jerked back. "Wait, what are you doing?" Anna looked at the minister inquisitively.
He raised his eyebrows and stared at Anna as though she had another head growing out of her neck. "Umm...pronouncing you husband and wife, clearly." He glanced at Sark, his eyes sympathetic. "By...the power...invested in me...I...now...pronounce you husband and wife," he said slowly, nodding his head at each pause. "And that's $49.95 at the front desk. Tell your friends."
A/N: ;)
Sark drove quickly, weaving in and out of the lanes, as he raced to reach Kirsch before the man either left his current location or, worse, realized Anna had tracked him and removed the device. Glancing at the small screen that blinked where Kirsch was, he pushed his foot harder on the gas pedal.
She had been innocent. She was just doing her job and it killed her. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly, trying to come to terms with the quick-paced events of the night. Part of him was entirely calm; casualties were a fair risk in their game and he knew that. But there was a small part of him that was not as settled concerning the death of Anna. Regret. Guilt. That part of Sark screamed to the rest of him that it was his plan to put her on the plane and his fault that she had been killed. The more rational, normal side of him reminded him that he hadn't agreed to work with the CIA to make friends. He was their prisoner, unwillingly for the most part and hence, he should be relishing in the satisfaction that one of their own was dead.
There was a small problem. Sark knew the CIA would come for him, blaming him for what had transpired that night, whether or not he declared his innocence. Removing the tracking device would only increase their belief of his guilt but, at least this way, he had more time to figure out his next move. There was the option of going into hiding but should the CIA, and most likely, Bristow, hunt him down, he would most likely be executed without question. On the other hand, he could gain what information he could from Kirsch and hand it over to the CIA, thus reinforcing his loyalty to the United States, and he could possibly even use it as a bargaining tool. Either way, Sark was well aware of the fact that he would shoulder the blame for Anna Parker's death. But he couldn't afford to be impaled with foreign emotions. Not now, not ever. As it always had been, it was time to look after himself.
Sark rolled to a stop a short distance before the dark, dodgy warehouse where Kirsch was supposed to be, according to the tracker.
He pulled out his gun, attentive to the slightest sound as he entered the bare warehouse. But it wasn't entirely empty. A large figure stood in the center, surrounded by material. Kirsch. "Drop it. Hands in the air."
Kirsch turned around slowly, his expression frowning. "Ah, Mr. Sark. Joined the CIA. Sorry to hear that, I was." He let go of his cell-phone and weapon; they hit the cement with a loud thud.
"I want some information. Give it to me and I'll make things less painful for you." Sark's voice was like cold steel.
Kirsch folded his hands rather casually, as though he was addressing an old friend. "Do you not want to know the fate of your partner?"
Sark stare remained unwavering though a cold shudder spread across his insides. "No games."
"How did you find me anyway? Give me that, at least. I thought my plan was good. Escape unnoticed, dispose of your little friend...I guess one out of two ain't bad," Kirsch baited him.
He took a few steps closer to Kirsch, his resolve fading.
"That little bitch...she put a tracking device on me, didn't she? Ha. Now I feel even better about blowing her into a thousand little pieces," Kirsch said snidely, sitting complacently in the middle of the floor. "A valiant effort on her part though--,"
Sark drove his gun into Kirsch's head briskly. "I would not, if I were you."
Kirsch massaged his head, lightly licking one of his bloodied fingers. "Kudos to her. She really tried. We actually had a good fight for a bit. She was a rough one, that one," Kirsch added, blatantly ignoring Sark's warning. "Not to mention damn pretty."
Sark bent down over Kirsch, nearly ready to keep him quiet permanently. But Kirsch took advantage of this opportunity and lunged for Sark's gun, wheedling it from his hand. Jumping up triumphantly, Kirsch aimed at Sark dead-on. "I never cared much for you. You're too young. Cocky. British. But no hard feelings, mate.
A shot ran into the quiet, night air.
Kirsch fell to the ground, hugging his wounded knee, which was oozing bright red blood onto the cool pavement. Sark leapt from the ground cautiously to look at the assailant, his eyes widening as the person revealed themselves from the shadows.
"You didn't really think it'd be that easy, did you, sweetheart?" Anna said tiredly to Kirsch, steadily aiming her gun at the two men before her though she limped slightly as she moved closer. "What a way to end our first date. Attempted murder. How sweet."
Sark took a hesitant step towards her, wondering how it was possible that she had survived the explosion on the plane. "How is this—,"
Anna held up her hand to stop him, grimacing slightly, as she was obviously pained by her knee. "Don't come any nearer...I don't what you're doing...or how you got here but I don't trust you. Not for one second. And don't think that I won't hesitate to blow you to pieces if you try anything."
Sark glanced from Anna to Kirsch and back again. "You think I betrayed the CIA. That I set this all up. And that I was going to kill Kirsch to dispose of the evidence," he surmised clearly.
"Smart boy. For months, I have been waiting for you to show your true allegiances," Anna said, her eyes fiery. Sark moved closer to her, watching as she evenly leveled the gun at his forehead. "You doubt me. Don't. I won't hesistate, Sark. Just give me a reason to shoot you and I will," she managed to spit out, her voice shaking ever so slightly.
His blue eyes met hers earnestly. "Anna, I did not betray the CIA. I watched the plane explode with Esperanto and then relayed to the CIA what I had seen. I then extracted the information we needed from Esperanto, who told me that Mr. Kirsch here was the key to finding Dresden, the man currently in possession of the artifact. Interestingly enough, Dresden is the only man who can decode it—only he knows what it can do and what it means! So yes, I did remove my tracker as well as the communications link to the CIA. But I had every intention of taking the information I learned from Kirsch—whom, might I had, you told me to go after—and relaying back to the CIA."
"Why break off with the CIA, then, if your big plan was to give all the information to them?" Anna demanded, still keeping her eyes on Kirsch.
Sark chewed on his bottom lip as he realized he was going to have to tell her what had happened with Esperanto. "My methods of extracting what I could from Esperanto were...slightly less than CIA-sanctioned."
"Oh my God," she sighed, closing her eyes for a blinking moment. "You didn't kill him, did you? Tell me you didn't." She took a quick look at Sark's face, which instantly told her the truth. His eyes dropped as Anna started shaking her head, appreciating now that they were deeper into this than she'd thought. "Oh, you did. God damnit, Sark!" He watched intently as she struggled with herself over whether or not to believe him. "How can I trust you...I could lose my job...you could kill me."
"You just have to." Sark took another tentative step towards her.
Kirsch coughed loudly from the ground as he pressed his hands over his knee to slow the bloodflow and Anna and Sark both gave him a fixed stare "I'm sorry to interrupt this heartbreaking moment for the two of you here but-- ,"
"Unless you're about to tell us where Alvin Dresden is, you can stay quiet," Anna interrupted. She bent down to him, resting her weight on her knees as she inspected his gushing wound. "Ouch. Looks like I hit an artery. You know, with blood loss like that, you have very little time unless you get medical assistance. Unfortunately--," she paused, reaching for his cell-phone laying near him, "I'm having trouble remembering the number for emergency services. Refresh my memory."
Kirsch groaned painfully. "You bitch, I should've killed you when--," he sputtered vengefully as he reached fiercely for Anna.
Sark jumped down and pulled on Kirsch's leg, causing more blood to pour out onto the tarmac. Kirsch released his grip on Anna as he writhed in pain, cursing endlessly.
Anna took a moment to catch her breath; she hadn't expected Kirsch to grab her like that. But more than that, she hadn't expected Sark to come to her rescue. Maybe he really hadn't betrayed the CIA. Or maybe he did and was now trying to fake her out by saving her in order to regain her trust. She came to the conclusion that she didn't have any other options. It was Sark, or nothing. Anna suddenly felt extremely light-headed; this was the night that never-ended.
Sark saw Anna begin to sway and he grabbed her arm, balancing her. When she was fine to stand on her own, he once again bent down to Kirsch, who now cowered in fear of him. "If you hurt her in any way and I find out about it, I won't show you the same grace she has. Be assured of that," Sark said maliciously and unaware to Anna. He returned to his normal voice, "Tell us where Dresden is or you will bleed to death. Out here. All alone. Pitiful."
Kirsch moaned again, but resigned himself to spilling the information he knew. "Dresden is in Vegas. The Mirage, room 547," he coughed out.
Anna smiled for the first time that evening. "Thanks, lover." She tossed him back his cellphone and started to walk away. She stopped and turned around, her eyes frighteningly cold. "If you're lying, we'll see eachother again." Her expression softened. "Honestly, Sark, hurry up!"
Sark licked his lips as he ran quickly over to her. He'd really believed she was going to leave him stranded there with Kirsch. "So I guess this means you believe me?"
Anna cocked her head at him, as she got into the driver's seat of the car he'd driven to find Kirsch. "Oh no no. This means that I'm desperate."
Sark slammed the car door shut. "Don't feel bad about it. We all find ourselves in desperation at some point. But you, you're somewhat attractive, and you pull a punch like no one--,"
"So it begins! It's going to be a long trip to Vegas. But you can tell me the whole long, torrid story of tonight on the plane," Anna interjected. But she was grinning.
"I still cannot accept that you had the time to jump from that plane. I mean, I saw the explosion; it was massive. I guess I'm just shocked you didn't get caught in the blast," Sark replied to Anna's story of survival. As she looked down timidly at her hands as they walked along the crowded street, he felt a small shiver of admiration course through him. He was impressed; she had a strong will to survive, despite what they'd both said earlier that night about her carelessness for her life.
Anna gave him a small smile. "I just barely made it! He literally left me for dead. I just--," she stopped, swallowing her words. She took a deep breath, her warm eyes lifting to his. "You all really thought I'd been killed?"
"I saw it and truly thought you'd perished. The CIA, Sydney—everyone thought you were gone."
Anna shook her head, her soft features becoming determined. "I need to call Syd. She's my best friend...she must be s—so...well, I have to contact the CIA too. Kendall will disappointed. I'm in perfect condition, minus a badly bruised knee!"
Sark tilted his head towards her, folding his arms as he slide into a slower pace to accommodate her injury. "Kirsch told me you fought back. You must have gone easy on him, if he was able to get off that plane!"
"Well, I like to save my bag of magic tricks for the finale. You know, don't spend it all in one place!"
He lifted his eyebrows questioningly. "Pardon me?"
"Oh, come on! Even your pompous-ass knows that one." Anna rolled her eyes as she glanced at his blank expression, cringing slightly as her weight shifted accidentally onto her bad knee.
"You're in pain." Sark eyes crinkled into concern as he offered to help her. Anna refused, turning away from him on the congested street just as her knee gave out. She felt her body begin to crumble, the sensation of falling passing over her.
But she didn't fall. "I got you," he said, steadying her with his strong hands. As they were trapped in that second, their bodies posed in the last moment before the end of a dance, with the graceful dip, an electric connection sizzled from one body to the other. Brown eyes met blue. Hands met soft skin. Darkness found light.
The moment passed quickly, though it felt like years to Anna. She calmed herself inwardly and managed to stabilize herself enough to walk. Sark too pulled away and looked anxiously at the beckoning shop signs, from casinos to convenience stores.
"God, Vegas is so tacky," Anna exclaimed, eyeing the bright lights, overblown buildings and eager tourists with disdain as she broke the uncomfortable silence.
Sark glanced up at the Mirage Hotel, nodding his head. "For once, I think we're in agreement.
"Honestly, it's like a big cheese-fest!"
"Cheese-fest? Interesting. I might have to borrow that sometime," Sark said amusedly, following her through the entrance of the hotel and casino.
Anna rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "Ok, so we know how this is going down, right? We'll nab Dresden and then return to the CIA and explain everything. We'll clear your name." Anna bit her lip nervously, realizing she said "we". Though she hadn't turned him into the CIA automatically, she wasn't entirely ready to admit to him, or to herself, that she wanted to believe his innocence. More than ever, she was beginning to doubt her judgment.
But as she looked at his handsome, angular face, she realized that maybe it was time to stop the dichotomies, the binarisms. For some people, it was a way of living: to be on one side or the other, to think in terms of either- or. It made life simpler. There was the good and the bad and there was little doubt or confusion. But she'd nearly died and this time, she'd truly seen that there were more than two sides to living. Sometimes you had to take risks and chances, no matter how scary they seemed.
"I doubt they'll believe you--," Sark interrupted, pressing the elevator button.
"It will work out. Trust me!," she answered simply.
His brow furrowed as her words swam in his mind. No, he thought, there was no time for this. "Okay, 547, welcome." Sark started to make his way over to the door, squinting at the bolt on the door. "Can you pick this lock? I'm not familiar with this type."
Anna crept to the door, silencing him with her eyes and knocked. "Housekeeping." No answer. "First thing, love. Don't just go picking locks. We could have just had our heads blown off. Second thing. Can I pick a lock? Can I pick a lock!" Anna grabbed a hair pin from her pocket and was able to open the door within 8 seconds. She smirked up at Sark. "And people criticize junevile detention centers. I mean, really. Oh, I'm kidding. You need to lighten up."
They stepped into the hotel room, finding it completely devoid of personal items, except for a laptop resting on the coffee table in the center of the room.
Sark opened the top, noting that the computer was on. He whistled as he looked at what was on the screen. "You can stop searching, Anna. Dresden's imbeciles left their email open and it's all here. Our man is currently about to aboard a ship in the Caribbean for a short cruise. And guess what he has with him?"
Anna plopped down on the sofa beside Sark, peering at the computer screen. "What? We've got to go! Now!"
"Calm down there--,"
"I'm not going to calm down! That man is getting away with the artifact!"
"Listen!" Sark raised his voice, trying to make her understand. "Yes, Dresden has it. But Sloane does not know where he is. This is an email from Dresden to his men here, informing them that he not only has the artifact but was sent the codes by Sloane. Apparently, Dresden does not inform Sloane of his location for his own protection. So, we're actually ahead of Sloane."
Anna inhaled, her cheeks reddening from her outburst. "We need to get on that cruise and steal the artifact when he's finished doing whatever it is that needs to be done," she finished, gesturing wildly with her hands. She jumped up from her seat, forcing herself to ignore the throbbing pain in her knee. "We should go."
"Let's just read this one more time to get the location right" Sark replied wisely. The both memorized the cruise and ship names, phone numbers and exact location.
Anna felt a cool tingle spread down her back. "We've been made," she whispered, sensing the presence of others in the hotel room.
No sooner than her words, two heavily armed men began yelling at them in German to put their hands up and get on their knees. Anna began to lower herself to the ground, looking pointedly at Sark.
He caught her glance, hurling the vase from the table behind him at one of the men while Anna was able to grab her knife from her ankle and throw it into the shoulder of the other man. The latter's gun hit the floor in a barrage of bullets as Anna and Sark scurried out of the room, kicking the other gun a safe distance from either of the guys.
"This is not good," commented Anna, seeing three other gun-toting men coming from one end of the hallway. Sark hurriedly pressed the elevator button, sighing, relieved, when the doors opened, a sweet-looking elderly couple inside.
The elevator shut just as the men reached them, firing several rounds into the heavy, bullet-proof doors. Anna innocently at the horrified faces of the old man and woman. "Yeah...some people are just too lazy to go down the stairs."
Sark stifled a laugh, taking a few seconds to regain his strength. By now, the men from the fifth floor would probably have noticed the elevator was heading to the first floor and would be awaiting their arrival. "Excuse men , sir, "Sark began to the elderly man, eyeing his jacket. "How attached are you to that coat?"
"Hurry, in here!" Anna said to Sark, pushing open the doors to a large, brightly lit wedding chapel. The men were searching the entire ground floor for them, and had been a little defeated by their costume changes. Sark was now sporting a worn jacket that was short in the sleeves and a backwards hat he'd swiped as they "casually" passed the gift shop. Anna wore the sweater she'd had tied around her waist and a pair of classic, Audrey Hepburn-esque sunglasses, her hair piled messily on her head.
Glancing quickly at the mesh wall coverings and huge, plastic fluroescent flowers, Sark couldn't help but utter, "Jesus--,"
"Just come on!" She pulled on his arm tightly, her expression frantic. "In case you didn't notice, those guys had guns. Big ones. And I just like to take a sec to point out that we have nothing! Nothing! Not to mention, I can't exactly run here!"
The reverend at the head of the altar narrowed his eyes at them, silently willing them to be quiet. Shaking his head, he turned back to the couple before him, looking wildly excited in their rather odd outfits that adhered to an animal-printed Western theme. "I know pronounce you husband and wife." The man and woman looked at eachother moonily as the reverend slammed his bible shut and whipped out a receipt from his robe. "And that's $49.95 at the front desk please. Ooh and don't forget your already signed license. Next!" he bellowed loudly, peering at the few nervous looking couples huddling around the front desk.
An Asian man and his soon-to-be bride, complete with a 70s style rented veil, apprehensively creeped up the aisle. Anna and Sark spun around, still uncertain of where to go, and figuring that they had about 30 seconds before the two beefy men exploded into the tiny chapel. The chapel doors banged open and the two managed to hide their heads before they were seen, luckily blocked by the Asian couple, who were looking confusedly at Anna and Sark.
Anna snuck a look from the corners of her eyes, and seeing that they were checking the entrance, grabbed the bride's veil and slammed it on her own head. "Go," she whispered, rather harshly to the reverend. The woman touched her now bare hair and stuck her head between Anna and Sark, her eyes going back and forth questioningly. "Yeah....no. Thanks for the veil," Anna said quietly. "But you can be our witnesses....just stand a little to the left...no a little more...yes, perfect!"
Sark, looking mildly worried, started in on her, as he was not quite sure what her big plan was. "Anna—,"
"Shut up, will you! We don't actually have to get married! We just need to be covered. Relax!" Anna insisted, trying to keep her voice low and resist the urge to see where the men were. She stared straight at the reverend "Say something!"
"Sorry, I'm not—I mean, do you want to be married or not?" The reverend asked, opening and shutting his bible.
Sark could hear the guards approaching down the aisle, looking in every pew, their footsteps heavy. "Bloody hell, they're nearly here," he whispered into Anna's ear.
"Can you see them yet?" Anna adjusted the veil to better cover her face, bending towards him so their conversation was private. The minister tapped his watch impatiently.
"Yes," Sark said in a normal voice, turning his face towards her, as one of the men stealthy approached from the left.
"Alright then...if you're sure," The minister decided, putting on his glasses and reopening his bible. "Oops, before I forget, I need some identification and your signatures."
Sark tossed his and Anna's I.D.s into his bible, keeping his head down and cursing the Asian couple who were twitting back and forth as they argued over what Anna and Sark had done. He couldn't hear a thing.
"And sign here and here..." the reverend continued leisurely.
"Perfect. Keep your head down. Don't look up!" Anna murmured, her eyes blazing as she easily signed her name.
"Look who doubts who, now. Brilliant plan. They are going to find us, you realize that don't you," Sark muttered back, distractedly putting down his own signature.
Anna tilted her head ever so slightly to glare at him. "Well, your plans haven't always turned out perfectly, now have they?"
"...to unite this man and this woman in Holy matrimony..."
"Not perfectly. But they were better than this one, which is going to end up with us being identified by our dental records!" Sark hissed back. Both glowered at the other, unnoticed by the reverend, who carried on with his business.
Anna listened carefully, hearing the carpet crunch with approaching footsteps. "This is all your fault! You never know what the hell you're supposed to be doing!
"I do--," he was interrupted by Anna lowered, though volatile voice.
"Don't even start." "Why must you be so controlling all the time?"
"You mean rational?"
"No, I'm fairly certain I meant controlling, domineering....insufferable!" Sark exclaimed harshly.
Anna's eyes widened as she plotted her response, neither of them hearing the chapel door slam open again. "I'm insufferable! That's hilarious...You're the one--,"
"No, you're the one with the unbearable attitude of superiority, who always tries to impress others with your incredible plans and ideas!!!! Only not so much this time! Or any time!"
"I so do--," Anna was distracted with the loud sound of the bible clapping shut between the reverend's hands. "I so don't try to impress...wait, do you hear anything?"
"No...do you think they're gone? This may have worked..."
Anna took a deep, hopeful breath. "Then you'll owe me a big, fat thank you. I'm going to turn around...ready?"
Anna spun around to the front of the chapel slowly, and exhaled with relief when she saw that the men had left. Her plan had worked! She turned back to Sark, hands on her hips and eyes piercing his expectantly, "Now what was that you were saying?"
Sark opened his mouth to speak but was cut off as the minister reached down and joined his and Anna's hands, which they both jerked back. "Wait, what are you doing?" Anna looked at the minister inquisitively.
He raised his eyebrows and stared at Anna as though she had another head growing out of her neck. "Umm...pronouncing you husband and wife, clearly." He glanced at Sark, his eyes sympathetic. "By...the power...invested in me...I...now...pronounce you husband and wife," he said slowly, nodding his head at each pause. "And that's $49.95 at the front desk. Tell your friends."
A/N: ;)