A/N: Sorry about the wait, guys! But this is an extraordinarily long
chapter! I've changed the cruise from the Caribbean to the Mediteranean.! (
Oh, and don't mind if I make up some laws (
"Say what?"
The minister looked helplessly at Sark, casting his eyes obviously over to Anna. "You. Are. Now. Married."
"I'm going to be sick," Anna said, her complexion deathly white as she stumbled back a step and clutched onto one of the chairs just off the aisle.
Sark's eyes widened as he moved forward, making sure he'd heard the man correctly. "What? No. That's not possible."
"Oh. My. God. Oh. My. God," she kept repeating in the background, now sitting dejectedly in one of the chairs.
"Anna—calm down. It's just not possible. Neither one of said the words, let alone agreed to it!" Sark said rationally, though he was privately rattled by the reverend's words.
The minister coughed loudly and noticeably tapped at his watch. "Excuse me, uh, sir. Actually you did agree. I asked you whether or not you wanted to be married. The two of you discussed and answered 'yes'."
"That wasn't to you!" Sark was now getting frustrated, shooting glances from Anna to the minister.
The minister rolled his eyes but leaned forward to speak conspiratorally with Sark. "Listen, sir, I understand your...hesitation to be married...to her...but you both said 'I do' and there were no objections."
"Bloody hell, we didn't mean it—,"
"And the marriage license was signed. Hence, you two are now married," the minister summed up, his eyes shifting down the aisle towards the next couple, clearly through talking to Anna and Sark. "Next!"
Anna sprang from her chair, an idea having popped into her head. "Listen, why don't you just rip up the paper and we'll forget this ever happened!"
The minister looked appalled. "I am a man of God, miss!"
"You marry people for $50 a pop! Christ, you'd probably marry that man over there to his dog!" Anna snapped back, incredulous.
"Ugh!" He breathed, offended at her insult. "Step aside, please!"
"Annul it, then!" barked Anna, elbowing the Asian couple trying to move forward out of the way. Sark gave them an apologetic look.
"I can't do that. This is a valid marriage."
"I'm with the CIA," Anna threw out, growing increasingly desperate. She was now practically hovering on top of the reverend, while Sark watched, slightly amused, despite the seriousness of the situation.
The reverend just laughed off her comment as he looked over her head, signaling that their conversation was over.
Anna sort of deflated and turned to walk down the aisle, as though she was giving up. The minister called out "Good luck" to Sark, which just barely reached her ears. She doubled back, lunging at the man of God with all her strength.
Sark grabbed her by the waist, yanking her off the minister. "She's just a little emotional," he said to the shocked bystanders.
"Did you hear that?! What a jackass! Yeah, Jesus SO DOESN'T LOVE YOU!" Anna yelled back as they slammed through the chapel doors. Suddenly losing all her energy, she flopped down on a rickety wooden bench. "This isn't happening."
Sark grimaced. "Unfortunately, I think it is."
Anna kept on talking, as though she'd never heard him. "I'm dead. Worse than dead. The CIA is going to crucify me when they find out--,"
"Who says they have to know? We'll just get this thing annulled as soon as viably possible." He folded up the marriage license and put it in his back pocket. Hopefully, they wouldn't need to hold onto that for much longer.
"It can take years to have an annulment. It's not like it'll be over tomorrow." She stared at the chapel doors, her eyes glassy. This was a nightmare. Of all the things that possibly could've happened, why did it have to be this? They were....married. Anna couldn't even fathom that word. Married.
Now, she wasn't a very traditional person but she'd always had these romantic views of marriage, compliments of her parents. Anna had grown up in a home where marriage had bound the souls of her parents together tightly. Despite occasional rifts, her parents had loved eachother truly and warmly, and when her mother had died, it was like she lost a part of her father as well. Anna had learned that marriage was more than a piece of paper, it was an intimate, intense connection and when she was a little girl, she couldn't wait to have her chance at it. But now that she was...married...Anna just wanted it to disappear, along with her so-called husband.
She tossed him a side-long glance, his elbows casually resting on the back of the bench, his expression entirely calm. He was, though it pained her to say it, undeniably goodlooking; tall, lean, riddled with hidden strengths. And those eyes. Alarming blue eyes that just shot through her, like stepping out into the cold after being inside. And it was true also that Sark was interesting and kept her spinning in a way that no else ever had.
But he was still Julian Sark. He'd been Number 2 on the CIA's Most-Wanted list until his capture and he was still held in high-suspicion by the Agency, despite his cooperation. He'd committed crimes that Anna could not even begin to accept both as an agent and as a human being.
Not to mention that'd she'd spent enough time with him in a work atmosphere. Now he was a part of her life.
"Should we have signed a pre-nuptial agreement?" Sark teased, grinning.
Anna swatted his shoulder, emerging from her self-pity. "How can you joke about this?!"
"Listen, there's nothing we can do. We can't annul it right now so why worry about it?" Sark stood up, running a hand along his face. Inwardly, he was still overcome with shock.
"Easy for you to say. You didn't just commit treason against your country!"
"Aren't you being a touch overdramatic?" Sark began to walk casually along the crowded street.
Anna ran to catch up to him. "Easy for you to say—you did it all the time, before I brought you into custody."
"Details." He snuck an arm around her shoulder as they walked. "So let's just handle this sometime in the near future and just focus on Dresden for now, wife."
"Don't touch me." Anna pushed his arm off of her and walked slightly ahead of him.
"Fabulous start. We'll be in marital therapy in no time!"
Anna tossed her hair, giving him a once-over. "I can't believe you're not even worried. We just got married. Married!"
"Oh, I don't deny that this is a complete nightmare but it's definitely worse for you than me. But ultimately, things could have turned out much, much worse for both of us," Sark added, trying to lighten the tension. "We could be riddled with bullets."
"That I might just prefer." Anna glanced at the ground. It finally hit her. Hard. She was legally married to Julian Sark with no quick way out of it. "Crap."
----
The first thing Anna decided to do once they reached their final destination for the night was to call her best friend. They'd decided to stay overnight in Vegas and have a passable amount of sleep before heading back to Europe for the cruise. She had to tell Sydney what had happened and she figured now was the best time, as she'd finally settled down a bit from the shock of...yeah, that.
Anna dialed the familiar number. It was Syd's secret cellphone, one that the CIA did not, or could not tap. "Syd...Syd, it's me," Anna said steadily into the phone.
Anna heard her friend gasp loudly. "Oh my—how? When? Thank God. I really thought—I mean really, I-I...Sark said...,"
"Whoa, Syd, sit down. I'll tell you everything, I swear," Anna interjected, close to tears now. Sydney was her best friend and it was obvious how much she cared for Anna. "But you've got chill out or else Fran will be in there so fast, you know how she thrives on drama!"
Sydney gave a small laugh, slightly confounded by her crying. "Nah, it's alright. I hadn't told her yet. I guess I was just hoping...I mean, things were so up in the air. No one knew what happened except for that son-of-a- bitch Sark. Clearly, you know he betrayed the CIA, as you've been stranded. We'll get him, Anna, I promise."
Anna hesitated, realizing clearing Sark would be a tougher job than she'd anticipated but she knew that if Sydney Bristow was on her side, she had a much higher chance of success. "Actually Syd, I already have him. He's here with me."
"How? What's going on? Is he holding you?" Sydney's voice grew sharper over the phone.
"No, no, it's nothing like that. I'd traced Kirsch and Sark had the other device linked to the tracker so he caught up to Kirsch and that's when I showed up. I'd jumped from the plane right before it exploded."
"Oh, my God," Sydney breathed.
"There's more. Sark told me he'd intended to get the information from Kirsch and give it to the CIA—of course, whether or not he would actually follow through, I don't know but I trusted him anyway—,"
"Anna, no. You can't trust him. He's nothing but evil," her friend tried to warn her.
"Syd! Stop!" Anna said, her tone exasperated. "I had no other choices. I was injured, could barely walk. What was I supposed to do?"
"Get yourself back here!"
"And what? Let Sloane just continue to be one step ahead of us? Syd, he has destroyed enough lives and the last thing I'm going to let him do is hold the Rambaldi artifact, which could have horrible consequences for you," Anna argued, her voice raising slightly.
"Forget about it. Don't worry about me! You should be worried about the fact that you're in the company of a man who would do anything to get to that artifact. He'd kill you. He will," Sydney insisted, keeping her voice low.
"I am not a child. I know he can't be completely trusted. But why not use him?!" Anna paused, before continuing in a softer voice, "Syd, I know you're just concerned. Don't be. I can handle this."
"So that's the whole story, then?" Sydney interrogated.
Anna gulped. Not exactly. There was that teeny little matter of her marriage. "Yes, that's all," she lied, feeling despicable. She couldn't tell Sydney that she and Sark had accidentally gotten married, especially after Syd had just flipped out over the fact that she was in the company of Sark.
"Fine. You just said you could 'handle this'. Handle what, exactly?"
"We have a lead, from Kirsch, on the location for the artifact that was supposed to have been on the plane," Anna clarified, though omitting the details.
"Where are you going? Does the CIA know?"
"No. You're the first contact I've made. And the last."
Sydney was silent for a moment, carefully choosing her words. "You have to notify Kendall or else he will seriously kill you. After you've been arrested for treason, of course."
"Syd, I'm coming back. Just not until I have the artifact in my hands. I need you now. You're—You're my best friend, the only person who truly knows me, who has been there throughout everything," her voice broke, as she struggled to fight back tears. "You know that I can do this."
"I know," Sydney agreed, her tone emotion-filled. "What do you need?"
"I need you to tell Kendall all I've told you. I've left out the details to protect you and so that the CIA won't be able to botch this mission for me. I will get to it before Sloane, I promise you."
"Anna, I know you will. How long will you be gone?" Sydney asked, finally coming to the conclusion that she had to put her faith and confidence in her friend.
"A couple of weeks. Will you tell Fran that I got called to another trip? Tell her I'm sorry about missing our spa-day; we'll reschedule. But listen, I've got to go."
"Anna?"
Anna swallowed. "Yeah?"
"Be careful. Love you," Sydney managed to choke out.
"Love you too." Anna smiled, even though Sydney couldn't see her. "Bye." She hung up the phone just as Sark came out of the washroom, his hair still damp from a shower.
"So, you explained everything?" he asked, walking over to rest in one of the chairs and popping open a can of gingerale.
"Yeah..." she said slowly, collapsing on the bed.
Sark lifted his eyebrows. "So she knows, then? About...the...the--,"
Anna visibly cringed. "Don't say it. Please God, don't use that word. I'm still holding out that this is really a dream...we're not really—well, you know..."
"Married?"
Anna sat up suddenly. "I think I just threw up a little in my mouth."
Sark leaned forward, waving something in his hands. "Believe it, sweetheart. You've got to accept it. Would you like to take a look at this marriage license again?"
"You're giving me a headache."
Sark jumped up from his chair. "Hey, Anna. Now that we're, well, you know, husband and wife, does this mean that we can share the bed?" Sark asked, trying to be semi-serious as he fought back a grin, standing beside the large bed.
Anna glared at him and threw a pillow at his chest. "This actually can't get any worse, can it? I mean, soon Kendall is going to reveal that he's really a transvestite with a super-huge crush on Jack Bristow." She flopped dejectedly on the bed, pulling off her navy sweater to reveal a simple white tank-top. "If the CIA finds out, I'll probably lose my job, Sydney won't forgive me...and here I am, stuck with you."
"And married," Sark added micheviously, his accent playful. He settled down on the floor and attempted to get comfortable, putting his hands under his head.
She rolled to a sitting up position and looked rather unimpressed. "That word is forbidden!" she replied slowly, rubbing her temples as though that word gave her a headache. "I'm going to go drown myself in the tub now." Anna made her way to the bathroom, seeming as though she was in a different world. She pointed towards Sark as she whirled around. "Don't go anywhere. I'm believing that you're going to stay here because well...whatever." She shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, completely and utterly exhausted. This had been the longest and most gruelling 48 hours of her life; with only two hours rest on the plane, she wasn't just tired physically but emotionally too. So much had happened and she hadn't even had a chance yet to just absorb it all.
Sighing, she splashed some water on her face, enjoying the cool sensation on her skin. Anna examined herself in the mirror critically, noticing tired lines around her eyes and a blotchy complexion. "I look hideous," she whispered to herself. But it wasn't just her appearance that was worn; Anna felt dry, as though every drop of emotion had been shaken from her. She'd been the closest she'd ever came to death and then there was that whole mysterious vial of blood labeled with her name. Then, there was the instant when she truly believed Sark had betrayed her and the CIA. For some reason, that had been like a punch to the stomach. She wanted more than anything to believe that he had turned from his old ways and it frightened her. Each moment they spent together, she found herself more drawn to Sark in ways not sanctioned by the CIA. Oh, and now they were married.
Anna pressed her forehead against the mirror, wondering how she was going to get out of this mess. More than anything, she wanted to cry, to shed her emotions. But something blocked her from this ability and all she felt was coldness. Sydney had once said something about being afraid to lose the ability to feel, to suddenly be unaffected by the circumstances of life and as Anna watched her overtly calm, reflection, her eyes betrayed that fear.
Sark, meanwhile, had turned out the lights, his white-button down half- undone as he laid on the plush-carpeted floor. The events of the last two days blurred in his mind. More than anything, he was still in awe of the fact that he and Anna Parker were technically and legally married.
Though, he was slightly amused by this twist in events, he was also horrified. Sark had just become the husband of a woman who was completely unhinged. Anna Parker was one of the most disjointed, unreasonable and insensible people he'd ever known, let alone worked with. And now he was legally bound to her in a tie that would not be easily severed.
But for all of her quirks, she was also one of the most exquisite beauties ever to cross his path. And even though, she nearly drove him mad with her plans and ideas, he was infatuated with her intelligence and brilliant, creative mind. Not to mention, that she was unnervingly funny, unintentionally of course.
And so he thought of his new wife...it was going to be an adjustment to correlate Anna and 'wife', he thought. Still, his thoughts of his wife were surprisingly pleasant, minus his firm belief that part of her was literally crazy, and he supposed that if he must be married, better Anna than someone else, say, Bristow, for example. That woman would kill him in his sleep, for sure!
Sark was tired. His body was tired and his mind was tired. He was married, what was the big deal, he wondered, as he drifted to sleep, his mind knowing the answer.
-----
Anna turned the lights off in bathroom as she opened the door and entered the darkened room. She couldn't see anything, her eyes still blinking from the bright lights of the bathroom. She struggled to find her way back to the bed, tripping over something hard that sent her crashing to the floor. Well, not exactly an object.
"Ouch," cried a deep voice.
Anna screamed, completely forgetting that there was someone else sharing the room with her. Her chest heaved as she realized she'd fallen on Sark. "Oh, God. It's just you." She lifted herself a little, her hands on his bare, hard chest, as she got a better look at his sleepy eyes and crazy, bedhead hair. She rested there for a moment, feeling a sort of peace for the first time in weeks.
"Who the bloody hell else would it be?" he asked groggily, well aware of her hands touching his skin. She didn't move at all, and for a second, he wondered if she was sleepwalking or ill or something.
Her sad eyes beckoned him to her and as he opened his mouth to ask if she was alright, her fingers flew to his lips, clearly desiring silence.
Slowly, she arose from his warm body to a sitting position, and he followed her movement, their bodies flowing in an easy rhythm. He glanced at her, watching her damp hair fall around her face and nearly bare shoulders, one of the straps of her tank-top fallen, and her flushed skin, still feeling the effects of the hot shower, a light smile playing upon her lips. Except for her eyes. In the depths of brown, he could see her heart and soul cowering. Nonetheless, she was stunning in every sense of the word.
Anna moved closer to him, one hand undoing the remaining few buttons of his shirt and pulling it off his shoulders. He didn't question, nor try to hinder her. She slid her hands up his smooth chest, feeling his muscles contract as she did so, until she reached his shoulders, running her hands over the sinewy strengths of his body. Anna needed to touch, to feel something real.
Sark, too, reached his hands out to touch her. His thumbs caressed her cheeks gently.
Unexpectedly, Anna led them to the floor, her face protected in the crook between his neck and shoulders. He held her in his arms, not sure if he was imagining the heat emanating from her body or if it was just the desire throbbing in his hands. A shiver ran through him as her deliciously fruity scent wafted over him, alerting his senses even more.
Her lips grazed just a thread from the sensitive area of his neck. "It's been so long," she breathed. She hadn't been close to a man in what seemed like forever. And it wasn't that she needed a man to survive and be happy, but Anna just needed, and wanted, someone to be there for her, to comfort her. Someone to hold her.
And as she moved to her head to lay further down on his chest, he realized what she needed now. "It's alright," he whispered into her sweet-smelling hair, rubbing her soft arms.
And finally, the tears of suppressed emotion began to fall on his chest, as Anna's body heaved with light sobs.
----
Sark awoke, groggily surprised to see Anna sprawled beside him, her hand on his flat stomach. His mind took a moment to recall the events hours earlier, as he watched her breathe evenly, her chest heaving gently. Her lips were lightly parted, her skin flawlessly fresh, even in the depths of sleep.
More than anything, he was in awe of his own response to her emotional 'breakdown', if one could call it that. Though Sark was rather certain that cold blood flowed through his veins, even he, as a man, could recognize that Anna had been under tremendous stress and that there was no feasible way that she could contain it. However, he didn't expect that he'd be the vessel through which she would do it. And he certainly didn't anticipate the comforting, caring role he'd played. Never in his life had been so thoughtful and so completely...unselfish. True, he'd played the nice guy to girlfriends in the past but that was more or less an act, something Sark had forced himself to play. But with Anna this evening, it had come naturally. He knew what she needed instinctively. Strange.
Without moving too much as to not wake Anna, he strained his neck to see the clock. It was just after 8 in the morning! He squinted, making sure that was the right time, which it was. For what seemed like the millionth time in a few days, Sark was surprised, this time at the fact that'd he slept straight through the night. Typically, he was prone to waking up several times a night and unlimited restlessness. Even with Allison, her arms jailing him, he'd never been able to completely settle down and cede his mind to sleep; he was always pacing, always thinking and considering.
Sark shook his head and disentangled himself from Anna, rising to get up. Forget Allison. He sat on the bed for moment, watching as she rolled over onto her side, her hands tucked under her head sweetly. Was she dreaming, he wondered, and of what?
Ultimately, he decided that pondering Anna Parker would take more time than he had in his life. Not to mention, he had somewhere to go before she woke up.
----
She heard the door unlock and quietly positioned herself behind it. Anna had woken up alone this morning well-rested, her heart full. But when she'd discovered she was alone and that Sark was nowhere to found, she'd felt herself reverse into her old guarded, cool persona.
One. Two. Three. She jumped out and, having the element of surprise, threw the assailant to the ground, stealthily aiming her gun at his face. The man was on his knees, his arms held out, surrendering.
"Where have you been?" Anna screeched, feeling the blood pound in her ears. It was Sark. "I trusted you! I told you not to leave! What did you do?"
"It was something I had to do. It wasn't like I had a choice--," he began to explain softly.
"What's that behind your back?" she demanded angrily. How could this be happening? After last night?
His bright eyes flickered. "Before I show you there's something you need to know..."
Anna tried to keep her body from visibly quivering. She had to be cool. This was what she'd been trained for! "Just show it!"
Sark slowly held out a paper-bag to her. "I hope you didn't want ketchup. I forgot it. I know how you Americans are about your ketchup!" The smell of hot food wafted into the room. His face broke out into a smile and he began to laugh as Anna just stared at him in disbelief.
She collapsed onto the bed, feeling her body slow down once again. "Breakfast. You got us food!"
"I had to do it. I was completely famished." He grinned at her, placing the bag on the table. "Honestly, though, you've got to relax."
She ignored his comment, still looking suspiciously at him. "So that's all, then? Why should I believe you?"
Sark ran a hand through his hair. "This doubt of my intentions is beginning to become bothersome. Why can't you accept that I'm no longer who I once was?"
Anna stood up, pulling a hooded sweatshirt over her head. "I have no other choices but you. But know this—I will always question your loyalty. People don't just change over night."
His eyes flicked to hers and connected for a brief, but intense second. "They do if they meet the right person." Unknowingly to the other, both their minds drifted to the previous night. Neither one dared mention it, though, especially to Anna's relief. She didn't really understand her motives for turning to him last night, let alone explain them to the very man she'd just claimed she would never trust.
Anna spun slightly, preparing to grab the rest of her things from the bathroom. They needed to leave as soon as possible to make the cruise. She felt her knee give out, still sore from jumping from Kirsch's plane. "Oh, oww!" She yelped in pain, reaching out to grab hold of the dresser. "Oh..."
Sark came to her side and helped to one of the chairs at the small, round table. "There's got to be something around here that we can use to bring down the swelling. We need ice." He looked around, searching for the ice bucket, seeing it tossed on the floor as a makeshift garbage disposal. "Be right back!" He hurried from the room, returning within a minute with a bucket full of ice and a small Ziploc bag. "One of the maids gave it to me. You know, I worked my charms."
"So you paid her?" Anna remarked cattily, though she was smiling.
"Hysterical. You're actually hysterical. Drop the CIA and work on your comedy act!" Sark answered, piling ice into the Ziploc.
She gasped as the icy sensation touched her inflamed knee. Sark leaned past her, and she could smell the gentle scent of his cologne, as he removed a tensor bandage from the First-Aid kit on lying carelessly on the table. Anna had forgotten how intoxicating the scent of the opposite sex could be.
Sark expertly wound the bandage around her knee, one hand at her thigh steadying his movements. Her body screamed at the pressure on her leg and for the second time in 24 hours, she realized how long it'd been since she'd been with a man. But this time...her desires were more raw, more physical. It'd been too long.
"It's like riding a bike. Isn't that the expression you Americans always use? You just don't forget how to do it!"
Anna's head shot up, looking rather alarmed. "What?" His words broke her spell. Was he reading her mind? Did he know her thoughts?
Sark looked at her pointedly. "First-Aid. You just...remember it all even though you don't use it all the time?"
She nodded emphatically, feeling relieved. "Totally, yeah." Anna bit her lip, deciding whether or not to tell him about her find in Kirsch's airplane.
"There. I hope that's not too restricting." He interrupted her inner debate, patting the bandage in place gently. Sark moved back on the end of the bed, looking up at her questioningly. "What is it?"
"What?" Anna distractedly brushed off his question, moving around him to sit cross-legged facing his back.
He swirled around, his eyes boring into hers. "Seriously, Anna, say it."
She held up her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine! But this is strictly between you and me--,"
"Aww, it's like our first marital bond," Sark said, smirking.
Anna's eyes drew smaller and she tossed her hair haughtily. "I hate you. Have I said that yet today?"
Sark grinned. "At least three times already...but seriously, tell me. I mean, think of all the CIA rules and regulations you've blown past already! One more is nothing."
"Alright, alright. Just stop the chatter. Have you always been this...talkative. I prefer evil, sullen Sark," retorted Anna, faking a sweet smile.
"I'll keep that in mind," he answered coolly, winking at her.
"Oh, good God. Anyway, so when I was on Kirsch's plane, looking for the nukes, I found something completely insane. I have no idea what this means," she confided, leaning over to pull the vial of blood labeled with her name from her jacket and handed it to him.
Sark fingered it for a moment before his eyes scanned the label. "Anna Parker." His forehead furrowed in confusion. "What does this mean?"
"That's what I've been wondering. I'd never even heard of this man before last week and he was carrying my blood? It just doesn't make sense. Not to mention it's just plain creepy!" Anna clasped her hands together and rested her chin on them, her brown eyes softening in vulnerability as she looked closely at him. "Do you know anything about this? Anything?"
"Anna, no. I'm as clueless as you are concerning this."
She sighed deeply. "I didn't tell Syd about it. Between Rambaldi, that stupid prophecy, and her fugitive mother, I figured that she really doesn't need to deal with this right now." Anna looked down at her socks, picking off bits of lint. "Besides...it's probably just a coincidence...means nothing," she added, trying to sound nonchalant.
"I'm sure it is," Sark agreed softly. He glanced at her nervously biting her lip. "It's nothing to be concerned about."
Anna gave a small smile, though strained on her gentle features. "Anyway, we should probably get going. Another plane ride..what fun!" Her voice had returned to normal, her expression devoid of any insecurity or fear.
----
"That was the longest trip ever," Anna complained as the taxi drove up to the dock. The cruise was to board at Cyprus and then travel along the Mediterannean Sea, stopping at various cities and towns along the way.
Sark nodded, unsmiling. "That child infront of us reminded me why, in many cases, I'm against procreation."
Anna laughed. "It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't have decided that spitting his macaroni at us would be a fun way to pass the time! Oh God, that was so funny when he hit you right in the face. You know, the pasta- cheese combination really worked with your skin-tone!"
"It's funny for those omitted from the experience! This is it, I think." The taxi driver stopped the car and Sark took a couple of bills, saying "Σας ευαριστοÏμε." (Thank You) Anna was impressed, raising her eyebrows as she stepped out the car, clutching her bags. "You speak Greek?" "There are plenty of things you do not know about me. But yes, I'm fluent in Greek, amongst other languages," he replied cockily. "Aren't you?" "υσικά (Of course)," she said, her eyes flashing. They started to walk over to where passengers were being let on to the ship, hearing a variety of languages, though most of the signs were in English. "It's beautiful out here," exclaimed Anna, gazing at the coastline full of rich blues and greens. "See, Parker, it might not be so bad—sometimes things just work to a--," "Sark...why does that sign say "The Magic of Marriage Cruise: Sailing Through Therapy"?" Anna interrupted warily.
Sark grimaced at the bright, cheerful banner as he took it in. "Goody. It appears that this cruise has a theme. Looks like we can start our therapy early after all!"
"Oh. Holy. Jesus." Anna turned away quickly, prepared to forget about the entire mission. "Time to go!"
He grabbed her elbow, pulling her back infront of him. "Are you serious?"
"Abso-freakin'-lutely. There is no way in hell I'm pretending to be married to you!" she exclaimed heatedly, glaring at him.
He yanked her closer to him, casually smiling at an older couple about to board the ship as he did so. The elderly woman gazed at them fondly, commenting, "So young, so passionate...just can't keep their hands off one another," to her husband.
Anna plastered a tight smile on her face, clenching her teeth. "Let go of me. We're leaving!"
"Few things first, darling. Firstly, you're willing to cede everything we've fought for because you don't want to play charades? I refuse to believe that after all of this, you're just going to let Sloane, a man you claim to hate, go!" he hissed into her ear, his expression completely relaxed, despite his intense words.
She kept her head high, staring right at him. "And the second thing?"
Sark released her arm, holding out his instead and taking her bag with his free hand. "We're already married. We need not pretend!"
Anna made a face at him. "Oh, isn't that a persuasive touch!" But she grudgingly took his arm, realizing that he was right. She couldn't let Sloane win so easily. "But don't expect me to be happy about it."
"You in a passably good mood? I wouldn't dream of it," Sark shot back at her as they walked over to the registration desk.
"Bite me," she sang softly, before readjusting her features to seriousness. "So luckily, I was able to get us spaces on this cruise under Anna and Julian Parker—,"
Sark lips curled into a wry smile. "How modern of you."
"Hey, I'm in charge here and it's bad enough we're, you know...," Anna paused, averting her eyes and coughing. "Married, or whatever," she continued rushedly, "And there is no way we could ever go under your name, both for personal and professional reasons! But identities aren't a big deal. No one has any clue where we are. In fact, I'm pretty sure the CIA still thinks we're in Europe."
"They always were falling behind!" Sark said.
"Hey!"
"I didn't mean you. You're clearly the best the CIA has," he complimented.
"Marriage has done wonders for your temperament, darling." Anna smiled at the elderly couple at the check-in table. Time to act. "Hi there! We are just too excited about this cruise, aren't we?"
Sark grinned, his bright white teeth exposed. "Oh, absolutely. We've been literally counting down the days."
The woman, with tightly curled gray-white hair, smiled tightly back at them. "You're awfully young to be in marital therapy. Why, we didn't start goin' 'til we was in our fourties, eh Herb?" Shirley Henderson, as indicated from her name-tag, was detectably from somewhere in the South United States.
"Oh, you're American. I am too, but Julian here is English! Fabulous. Anyway, yes, we're newlyweds--,"
"Very new," Sark interrupted his wife.
"Yes. And we just wanted to start working on our marriage from the get-go. You know, keep it fresh and open from the start, right, honey?" Anna set her brown eyes on Sark, looking lovingly from Shirley and Herb's view.
"That's right, love." Sark wound his arm around her waist and Anna tried not to look surprised.
Shirley continued to smile at them, her crooked, yellowy teeth visible. "Aww...that's sweet. I can tell that you two are gonna last, and I've seen lotsa couples, don't 'ya know? Herb knows," she elbowed her husband in the gut, "I got the sight."
Anna's smile faltered a bit. "Oh, well I hope you're right."
Sark coughed. "Excuse me." Anna shot him an icy look before turning her gaze back to Herb and Shirley.
Shirley looked down at her clipboard. "Oh, hon, I need your names."
"Julian and Anna Parker," Sark answered, leaning across the table to help her find them. "Ah, right there", he pointed.
"What a gentleman!" Shirley gushed, winking at Anna.
Anna smiled, her bottom teeth digging into her lip."Oh yes, a real...piece of work,"
"Hmm...you're in room 247. Here's your key and schedule!" Shirley said perkily, her husband grumbling incomprehensibly at her side.
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Hender—,"
Shirley flapped her hands around. "Oh no, no, dear! Call me Shirley. Do ya want Herb here to help you with your luggage?"
"No, no. That's fine. Besides...we packed light," Sark jumped in, flashing a charming smile.
"You gotta watch out for this one, Ms. Anna. All these ladies here'll be gawking after you. He's a real charmer," Shirley added, as Anna and Sark started up the ramp.
Anna turned her head and replied brightly, "No fear. I'll beat them off with a stick." With that, she smiled and turned back to continue up the ramp.
"Fiery, that one, eh, Herb?" Shirley murmured to her husband who just grunted. "I'm betting they got one volatile relationship!"
If she only knew.
----
Sark tossed something towards Anna and she caught it flawlessly. "What's this?"
"I suppose you could call it 'gear'," he said over his shoulder as he walked into the bathroom. Their room was a fair size and beautifully furnished. They had taken a moment to make it their own by tossing heir luggage on the bed, only cracking open the suitcase with their gear. Sark was mildly apprehensive about living in such close quarters with Anna for an extended period of time. Things could get...complicated...
It was a tiny, velvety gray box. Anna ran her hands over the smooth surface, finally flipping the top open; a beautiful, shining white-gold ring, simple yet extraordinary, lay entombed. "It's amazing," she whispered to herself, glancing around automatically, wondering if this was really for her.
"Well, what do you think, then?" He was leaning against the bathroom door, a crooked smile on his face.
Anna fingered the small ring, feeling the hard, sharp diamond graze her touch. "I—ugh, yeah. Wow. Er,...I don't quite understand. What's it for?"
"For my wife," he replied quietly, moving closer to her.
Anna swallowed, suddenly aware of how small the room was. "Uhhh...," was all she managed to choke out.
"For Anna Parker, from Julian Parker," Sark explained.
Anna sighed in relief. "Right, yeah. I suppose we should have wedding rings—you know, for our cover here. 'Course we could've always just said we misplaced them or something." It was for his wife. His pretend wife, not the real Anna Parker.
"Read the brochure. 'All couples must have wedding rings. They are a symbol of love and union. Any type of ring is acceptable so long as it be worn at most times'," he recited knowingly.
Anna threw her head up, her forehead creased. "That's stupid...but I guess, we don't make the rules, Ward and June out there do."
"Ward and June?" Sark asked curiously, his eyes lifted.
She shifted her weight to one side, hands on her hips. "Are you joking me? Hello! Ward and June Cleaver—Leave It to Beaver?" She snuck at a glace at his blank face. "Nothing? Oh come on, they're classic! Ack, you're hopeless!"
"Alright, alright. Just because I'm unfamiliar with your American sitcoms, 'classics' apparently...well, try it on, then!" Sark answered, gesturing towards the box enclosed in Anna's hand.
She chewed on her lower lip, looked up at him with those warm brown eyes, and then back down at the box, finally flicking it open again. It really was an exquisite piece of jewelry. Anna put it delicately on the ring- finger on her left hand. Only, it didn't quite fit her finger; it was only half-way on. "It's...ouch, too small!"
Sark came infront of her, looking closely at her hand. "So push it a little, it should fit!"
"Yeah, thanks tips. How helppppful...," she replied, her voice strained with effort. "Agh, oww. I can't move it! I can't get it off!"
"I'm sure it doesn't hurt that bad!"
"You try cramming a ring way too small onto your finger!" Anna retorted angrily, looking at her sore, red ring-finger.
"It should fit." Sark bent his head towards hers, examining the problem. "I think you're just overreacting."
"Shut up!"
"Just let me see it!" He took her hand, and slowly twisted the ring round and round.
"That hurts! Well, isn't this romantic!"
He gave her a look that she knew meant silence. "This was my mother's ring. She gave it to me a while ago and I don't know...it goes where I go. Apparently, it's an antique that my father gave to her...before things got...difficult. My mother told me the myth behind it—the person who wears it, well, they're supposed to be protected. This ring will protect whomever bears it."
"How very Lord of the Rings," Anna joked, though her comment was ill-timed.
"Ah, there we go!" The ring was now sliding off her finger easily.
Anna clutched her sore finger, shaking off the pain. "Thanks. Good God. That is some ring."
Sark didn't look up, but was staring intently at the ring. "Way to ruin a moment, Parker! Come here, let's try it again."
"Oh no freakin' way. It hates me!" Anna backed away cautiously.
Sark exhaled, grabbing her hand. Expertly he guided the ring onto her finger, gently and smoothly. He held it there for a moment, his eyes resting on hers intensely. "There."
"There," she repeated tenderly, completely forgetting what smart comment she'd intended on making. All she could feel was the weight of the ring on the finger and his skin touching hers. For an instant, she almost forgot who was standing before her and realized that this feeling of utter happiness must be what it is to be loved and proposed to.
Sark jerked his hand away suddenly. For an instant, he'd known what it would be like to love someone enough to want to spend the rest of your life with them. That perfect someone who makes you a better person and who you arise in the morning for. What a frightening thought.
Anna awkwardly changed the topic. "Maybe we should get to work. Hook up to the computer system and find out who Dresden is." She couldn't resist sneaking a glance at the sparkle on her finger. Whew, she breathed inwardly.
Sark sat down on the bed, turning the t.v. with the remote. "Good idea." He was still distracted with the rush of emotions from their 'moment'.
"I'm just...gonna...run to the washroom." Anna hurried towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
"You do that!" Sark said absently, flopping his back down on the bed.
Anna leaned against the bathroom door, trying to slow her heartbeat.
Sark laid on the now-rumpled comforter, attempting to forget.
It was going to be a long ride.
"Say what?"
The minister looked helplessly at Sark, casting his eyes obviously over to Anna. "You. Are. Now. Married."
"I'm going to be sick," Anna said, her complexion deathly white as she stumbled back a step and clutched onto one of the chairs just off the aisle.
Sark's eyes widened as he moved forward, making sure he'd heard the man correctly. "What? No. That's not possible."
"Oh. My. God. Oh. My. God," she kept repeating in the background, now sitting dejectedly in one of the chairs.
"Anna—calm down. It's just not possible. Neither one of said the words, let alone agreed to it!" Sark said rationally, though he was privately rattled by the reverend's words.
The minister coughed loudly and noticeably tapped at his watch. "Excuse me, uh, sir. Actually you did agree. I asked you whether or not you wanted to be married. The two of you discussed and answered 'yes'."
"That wasn't to you!" Sark was now getting frustrated, shooting glances from Anna to the minister.
The minister rolled his eyes but leaned forward to speak conspiratorally with Sark. "Listen, sir, I understand your...hesitation to be married...to her...but you both said 'I do' and there were no objections."
"Bloody hell, we didn't mean it—,"
"And the marriage license was signed. Hence, you two are now married," the minister summed up, his eyes shifting down the aisle towards the next couple, clearly through talking to Anna and Sark. "Next!"
Anna sprang from her chair, an idea having popped into her head. "Listen, why don't you just rip up the paper and we'll forget this ever happened!"
The minister looked appalled. "I am a man of God, miss!"
"You marry people for $50 a pop! Christ, you'd probably marry that man over there to his dog!" Anna snapped back, incredulous.
"Ugh!" He breathed, offended at her insult. "Step aside, please!"
"Annul it, then!" barked Anna, elbowing the Asian couple trying to move forward out of the way. Sark gave them an apologetic look.
"I can't do that. This is a valid marriage."
"I'm with the CIA," Anna threw out, growing increasingly desperate. She was now practically hovering on top of the reverend, while Sark watched, slightly amused, despite the seriousness of the situation.
The reverend just laughed off her comment as he looked over her head, signaling that their conversation was over.
Anna sort of deflated and turned to walk down the aisle, as though she was giving up. The minister called out "Good luck" to Sark, which just barely reached her ears. She doubled back, lunging at the man of God with all her strength.
Sark grabbed her by the waist, yanking her off the minister. "She's just a little emotional," he said to the shocked bystanders.
"Did you hear that?! What a jackass! Yeah, Jesus SO DOESN'T LOVE YOU!" Anna yelled back as they slammed through the chapel doors. Suddenly losing all her energy, she flopped down on a rickety wooden bench. "This isn't happening."
Sark grimaced. "Unfortunately, I think it is."
Anna kept on talking, as though she'd never heard him. "I'm dead. Worse than dead. The CIA is going to crucify me when they find out--,"
"Who says they have to know? We'll just get this thing annulled as soon as viably possible." He folded up the marriage license and put it in his back pocket. Hopefully, they wouldn't need to hold onto that for much longer.
"It can take years to have an annulment. It's not like it'll be over tomorrow." She stared at the chapel doors, her eyes glassy. This was a nightmare. Of all the things that possibly could've happened, why did it have to be this? They were....married. Anna couldn't even fathom that word. Married.
Now, she wasn't a very traditional person but she'd always had these romantic views of marriage, compliments of her parents. Anna had grown up in a home where marriage had bound the souls of her parents together tightly. Despite occasional rifts, her parents had loved eachother truly and warmly, and when her mother had died, it was like she lost a part of her father as well. Anna had learned that marriage was more than a piece of paper, it was an intimate, intense connection and when she was a little girl, she couldn't wait to have her chance at it. But now that she was...married...Anna just wanted it to disappear, along with her so-called husband.
She tossed him a side-long glance, his elbows casually resting on the back of the bench, his expression entirely calm. He was, though it pained her to say it, undeniably goodlooking; tall, lean, riddled with hidden strengths. And those eyes. Alarming blue eyes that just shot through her, like stepping out into the cold after being inside. And it was true also that Sark was interesting and kept her spinning in a way that no else ever had.
But he was still Julian Sark. He'd been Number 2 on the CIA's Most-Wanted list until his capture and he was still held in high-suspicion by the Agency, despite his cooperation. He'd committed crimes that Anna could not even begin to accept both as an agent and as a human being.
Not to mention that'd she'd spent enough time with him in a work atmosphere. Now he was a part of her life.
"Should we have signed a pre-nuptial agreement?" Sark teased, grinning.
Anna swatted his shoulder, emerging from her self-pity. "How can you joke about this?!"
"Listen, there's nothing we can do. We can't annul it right now so why worry about it?" Sark stood up, running a hand along his face. Inwardly, he was still overcome with shock.
"Easy for you to say. You didn't just commit treason against your country!"
"Aren't you being a touch overdramatic?" Sark began to walk casually along the crowded street.
Anna ran to catch up to him. "Easy for you to say—you did it all the time, before I brought you into custody."
"Details." He snuck an arm around her shoulder as they walked. "So let's just handle this sometime in the near future and just focus on Dresden for now, wife."
"Don't touch me." Anna pushed his arm off of her and walked slightly ahead of him.
"Fabulous start. We'll be in marital therapy in no time!"
Anna tossed her hair, giving him a once-over. "I can't believe you're not even worried. We just got married. Married!"
"Oh, I don't deny that this is a complete nightmare but it's definitely worse for you than me. But ultimately, things could have turned out much, much worse for both of us," Sark added, trying to lighten the tension. "We could be riddled with bullets."
"That I might just prefer." Anna glanced at the ground. It finally hit her. Hard. She was legally married to Julian Sark with no quick way out of it. "Crap."
----
The first thing Anna decided to do once they reached their final destination for the night was to call her best friend. They'd decided to stay overnight in Vegas and have a passable amount of sleep before heading back to Europe for the cruise. She had to tell Sydney what had happened and she figured now was the best time, as she'd finally settled down a bit from the shock of...yeah, that.
Anna dialed the familiar number. It was Syd's secret cellphone, one that the CIA did not, or could not tap. "Syd...Syd, it's me," Anna said steadily into the phone.
Anna heard her friend gasp loudly. "Oh my—how? When? Thank God. I really thought—I mean really, I-I...Sark said...,"
"Whoa, Syd, sit down. I'll tell you everything, I swear," Anna interjected, close to tears now. Sydney was her best friend and it was obvious how much she cared for Anna. "But you've got chill out or else Fran will be in there so fast, you know how she thrives on drama!"
Sydney gave a small laugh, slightly confounded by her crying. "Nah, it's alright. I hadn't told her yet. I guess I was just hoping...I mean, things were so up in the air. No one knew what happened except for that son-of-a- bitch Sark. Clearly, you know he betrayed the CIA, as you've been stranded. We'll get him, Anna, I promise."
Anna hesitated, realizing clearing Sark would be a tougher job than she'd anticipated but she knew that if Sydney Bristow was on her side, she had a much higher chance of success. "Actually Syd, I already have him. He's here with me."
"How? What's going on? Is he holding you?" Sydney's voice grew sharper over the phone.
"No, no, it's nothing like that. I'd traced Kirsch and Sark had the other device linked to the tracker so he caught up to Kirsch and that's when I showed up. I'd jumped from the plane right before it exploded."
"Oh, my God," Sydney breathed.
"There's more. Sark told me he'd intended to get the information from Kirsch and give it to the CIA—of course, whether or not he would actually follow through, I don't know but I trusted him anyway—,"
"Anna, no. You can't trust him. He's nothing but evil," her friend tried to warn her.
"Syd! Stop!" Anna said, her tone exasperated. "I had no other choices. I was injured, could barely walk. What was I supposed to do?"
"Get yourself back here!"
"And what? Let Sloane just continue to be one step ahead of us? Syd, he has destroyed enough lives and the last thing I'm going to let him do is hold the Rambaldi artifact, which could have horrible consequences for you," Anna argued, her voice raising slightly.
"Forget about it. Don't worry about me! You should be worried about the fact that you're in the company of a man who would do anything to get to that artifact. He'd kill you. He will," Sydney insisted, keeping her voice low.
"I am not a child. I know he can't be completely trusted. But why not use him?!" Anna paused, before continuing in a softer voice, "Syd, I know you're just concerned. Don't be. I can handle this."
"So that's the whole story, then?" Sydney interrogated.
Anna gulped. Not exactly. There was that teeny little matter of her marriage. "Yes, that's all," she lied, feeling despicable. She couldn't tell Sydney that she and Sark had accidentally gotten married, especially after Syd had just flipped out over the fact that she was in the company of Sark.
"Fine. You just said you could 'handle this'. Handle what, exactly?"
"We have a lead, from Kirsch, on the location for the artifact that was supposed to have been on the plane," Anna clarified, though omitting the details.
"Where are you going? Does the CIA know?"
"No. You're the first contact I've made. And the last."
Sydney was silent for a moment, carefully choosing her words. "You have to notify Kendall or else he will seriously kill you. After you've been arrested for treason, of course."
"Syd, I'm coming back. Just not until I have the artifact in my hands. I need you now. You're—You're my best friend, the only person who truly knows me, who has been there throughout everything," her voice broke, as she struggled to fight back tears. "You know that I can do this."
"I know," Sydney agreed, her tone emotion-filled. "What do you need?"
"I need you to tell Kendall all I've told you. I've left out the details to protect you and so that the CIA won't be able to botch this mission for me. I will get to it before Sloane, I promise you."
"Anna, I know you will. How long will you be gone?" Sydney asked, finally coming to the conclusion that she had to put her faith and confidence in her friend.
"A couple of weeks. Will you tell Fran that I got called to another trip? Tell her I'm sorry about missing our spa-day; we'll reschedule. But listen, I've got to go."
"Anna?"
Anna swallowed. "Yeah?"
"Be careful. Love you," Sydney managed to choke out.
"Love you too." Anna smiled, even though Sydney couldn't see her. "Bye." She hung up the phone just as Sark came out of the washroom, his hair still damp from a shower.
"So, you explained everything?" he asked, walking over to rest in one of the chairs and popping open a can of gingerale.
"Yeah..." she said slowly, collapsing on the bed.
Sark lifted his eyebrows. "So she knows, then? About...the...the--,"
Anna visibly cringed. "Don't say it. Please God, don't use that word. I'm still holding out that this is really a dream...we're not really—well, you know..."
"Married?"
Anna sat up suddenly. "I think I just threw up a little in my mouth."
Sark leaned forward, waving something in his hands. "Believe it, sweetheart. You've got to accept it. Would you like to take a look at this marriage license again?"
"You're giving me a headache."
Sark jumped up from his chair. "Hey, Anna. Now that we're, well, you know, husband and wife, does this mean that we can share the bed?" Sark asked, trying to be semi-serious as he fought back a grin, standing beside the large bed.
Anna glared at him and threw a pillow at his chest. "This actually can't get any worse, can it? I mean, soon Kendall is going to reveal that he's really a transvestite with a super-huge crush on Jack Bristow." She flopped dejectedly on the bed, pulling off her navy sweater to reveal a simple white tank-top. "If the CIA finds out, I'll probably lose my job, Sydney won't forgive me...and here I am, stuck with you."
"And married," Sark added micheviously, his accent playful. He settled down on the floor and attempted to get comfortable, putting his hands under his head.
She rolled to a sitting up position and looked rather unimpressed. "That word is forbidden!" she replied slowly, rubbing her temples as though that word gave her a headache. "I'm going to go drown myself in the tub now." Anna made her way to the bathroom, seeming as though she was in a different world. She pointed towards Sark as she whirled around. "Don't go anywhere. I'm believing that you're going to stay here because well...whatever." She shut the bathroom door and leaned against it, completely and utterly exhausted. This had been the longest and most gruelling 48 hours of her life; with only two hours rest on the plane, she wasn't just tired physically but emotionally too. So much had happened and she hadn't even had a chance yet to just absorb it all.
Sighing, she splashed some water on her face, enjoying the cool sensation on her skin. Anna examined herself in the mirror critically, noticing tired lines around her eyes and a blotchy complexion. "I look hideous," she whispered to herself. But it wasn't just her appearance that was worn; Anna felt dry, as though every drop of emotion had been shaken from her. She'd been the closest she'd ever came to death and then there was that whole mysterious vial of blood labeled with her name. Then, there was the instant when she truly believed Sark had betrayed her and the CIA. For some reason, that had been like a punch to the stomach. She wanted more than anything to believe that he had turned from his old ways and it frightened her. Each moment they spent together, she found herself more drawn to Sark in ways not sanctioned by the CIA. Oh, and now they were married.
Anna pressed her forehead against the mirror, wondering how she was going to get out of this mess. More than anything, she wanted to cry, to shed her emotions. But something blocked her from this ability and all she felt was coldness. Sydney had once said something about being afraid to lose the ability to feel, to suddenly be unaffected by the circumstances of life and as Anna watched her overtly calm, reflection, her eyes betrayed that fear.
Sark, meanwhile, had turned out the lights, his white-button down half- undone as he laid on the plush-carpeted floor. The events of the last two days blurred in his mind. More than anything, he was still in awe of the fact that he and Anna Parker were technically and legally married.
Though, he was slightly amused by this twist in events, he was also horrified. Sark had just become the husband of a woman who was completely unhinged. Anna Parker was one of the most disjointed, unreasonable and insensible people he'd ever known, let alone worked with. And now he was legally bound to her in a tie that would not be easily severed.
But for all of her quirks, she was also one of the most exquisite beauties ever to cross his path. And even though, she nearly drove him mad with her plans and ideas, he was infatuated with her intelligence and brilliant, creative mind. Not to mention, that she was unnervingly funny, unintentionally of course.
And so he thought of his new wife...it was going to be an adjustment to correlate Anna and 'wife', he thought. Still, his thoughts of his wife were surprisingly pleasant, minus his firm belief that part of her was literally crazy, and he supposed that if he must be married, better Anna than someone else, say, Bristow, for example. That woman would kill him in his sleep, for sure!
Sark was tired. His body was tired and his mind was tired. He was married, what was the big deal, he wondered, as he drifted to sleep, his mind knowing the answer.
-----
Anna turned the lights off in bathroom as she opened the door and entered the darkened room. She couldn't see anything, her eyes still blinking from the bright lights of the bathroom. She struggled to find her way back to the bed, tripping over something hard that sent her crashing to the floor. Well, not exactly an object.
"Ouch," cried a deep voice.
Anna screamed, completely forgetting that there was someone else sharing the room with her. Her chest heaved as she realized she'd fallen on Sark. "Oh, God. It's just you." She lifted herself a little, her hands on his bare, hard chest, as she got a better look at his sleepy eyes and crazy, bedhead hair. She rested there for a moment, feeling a sort of peace for the first time in weeks.
"Who the bloody hell else would it be?" he asked groggily, well aware of her hands touching his skin. She didn't move at all, and for a second, he wondered if she was sleepwalking or ill or something.
Her sad eyes beckoned him to her and as he opened his mouth to ask if she was alright, her fingers flew to his lips, clearly desiring silence.
Slowly, she arose from his warm body to a sitting position, and he followed her movement, their bodies flowing in an easy rhythm. He glanced at her, watching her damp hair fall around her face and nearly bare shoulders, one of the straps of her tank-top fallen, and her flushed skin, still feeling the effects of the hot shower, a light smile playing upon her lips. Except for her eyes. In the depths of brown, he could see her heart and soul cowering. Nonetheless, she was stunning in every sense of the word.
Anna moved closer to him, one hand undoing the remaining few buttons of his shirt and pulling it off his shoulders. He didn't question, nor try to hinder her. She slid her hands up his smooth chest, feeling his muscles contract as she did so, until she reached his shoulders, running her hands over the sinewy strengths of his body. Anna needed to touch, to feel something real.
Sark, too, reached his hands out to touch her. His thumbs caressed her cheeks gently.
Unexpectedly, Anna led them to the floor, her face protected in the crook between his neck and shoulders. He held her in his arms, not sure if he was imagining the heat emanating from her body or if it was just the desire throbbing in his hands. A shiver ran through him as her deliciously fruity scent wafted over him, alerting his senses even more.
Her lips grazed just a thread from the sensitive area of his neck. "It's been so long," she breathed. She hadn't been close to a man in what seemed like forever. And it wasn't that she needed a man to survive and be happy, but Anna just needed, and wanted, someone to be there for her, to comfort her. Someone to hold her.
And as she moved to her head to lay further down on his chest, he realized what she needed now. "It's alright," he whispered into her sweet-smelling hair, rubbing her soft arms.
And finally, the tears of suppressed emotion began to fall on his chest, as Anna's body heaved with light sobs.
----
Sark awoke, groggily surprised to see Anna sprawled beside him, her hand on his flat stomach. His mind took a moment to recall the events hours earlier, as he watched her breathe evenly, her chest heaving gently. Her lips were lightly parted, her skin flawlessly fresh, even in the depths of sleep.
More than anything, he was in awe of his own response to her emotional 'breakdown', if one could call it that. Though Sark was rather certain that cold blood flowed through his veins, even he, as a man, could recognize that Anna had been under tremendous stress and that there was no feasible way that she could contain it. However, he didn't expect that he'd be the vessel through which she would do it. And he certainly didn't anticipate the comforting, caring role he'd played. Never in his life had been so thoughtful and so completely...unselfish. True, he'd played the nice guy to girlfriends in the past but that was more or less an act, something Sark had forced himself to play. But with Anna this evening, it had come naturally. He knew what she needed instinctively. Strange.
Without moving too much as to not wake Anna, he strained his neck to see the clock. It was just after 8 in the morning! He squinted, making sure that was the right time, which it was. For what seemed like the millionth time in a few days, Sark was surprised, this time at the fact that'd he slept straight through the night. Typically, he was prone to waking up several times a night and unlimited restlessness. Even with Allison, her arms jailing him, he'd never been able to completely settle down and cede his mind to sleep; he was always pacing, always thinking and considering.
Sark shook his head and disentangled himself from Anna, rising to get up. Forget Allison. He sat on the bed for moment, watching as she rolled over onto her side, her hands tucked under her head sweetly. Was she dreaming, he wondered, and of what?
Ultimately, he decided that pondering Anna Parker would take more time than he had in his life. Not to mention, he had somewhere to go before she woke up.
----
She heard the door unlock and quietly positioned herself behind it. Anna had woken up alone this morning well-rested, her heart full. But when she'd discovered she was alone and that Sark was nowhere to found, she'd felt herself reverse into her old guarded, cool persona.
One. Two. Three. She jumped out and, having the element of surprise, threw the assailant to the ground, stealthily aiming her gun at his face. The man was on his knees, his arms held out, surrendering.
"Where have you been?" Anna screeched, feeling the blood pound in her ears. It was Sark. "I trusted you! I told you not to leave! What did you do?"
"It was something I had to do. It wasn't like I had a choice--," he began to explain softly.
"What's that behind your back?" she demanded angrily. How could this be happening? After last night?
His bright eyes flickered. "Before I show you there's something you need to know..."
Anna tried to keep her body from visibly quivering. She had to be cool. This was what she'd been trained for! "Just show it!"
Sark slowly held out a paper-bag to her. "I hope you didn't want ketchup. I forgot it. I know how you Americans are about your ketchup!" The smell of hot food wafted into the room. His face broke out into a smile and he began to laugh as Anna just stared at him in disbelief.
She collapsed onto the bed, feeling her body slow down once again. "Breakfast. You got us food!"
"I had to do it. I was completely famished." He grinned at her, placing the bag on the table. "Honestly, though, you've got to relax."
She ignored his comment, still looking suspiciously at him. "So that's all, then? Why should I believe you?"
Sark ran a hand through his hair. "This doubt of my intentions is beginning to become bothersome. Why can't you accept that I'm no longer who I once was?"
Anna stood up, pulling a hooded sweatshirt over her head. "I have no other choices but you. But know this—I will always question your loyalty. People don't just change over night."
His eyes flicked to hers and connected for a brief, but intense second. "They do if they meet the right person." Unknowingly to the other, both their minds drifted to the previous night. Neither one dared mention it, though, especially to Anna's relief. She didn't really understand her motives for turning to him last night, let alone explain them to the very man she'd just claimed she would never trust.
Anna spun slightly, preparing to grab the rest of her things from the bathroom. They needed to leave as soon as possible to make the cruise. She felt her knee give out, still sore from jumping from Kirsch's plane. "Oh, oww!" She yelped in pain, reaching out to grab hold of the dresser. "Oh..."
Sark came to her side and helped to one of the chairs at the small, round table. "There's got to be something around here that we can use to bring down the swelling. We need ice." He looked around, searching for the ice bucket, seeing it tossed on the floor as a makeshift garbage disposal. "Be right back!" He hurried from the room, returning within a minute with a bucket full of ice and a small Ziploc bag. "One of the maids gave it to me. You know, I worked my charms."
"So you paid her?" Anna remarked cattily, though she was smiling.
"Hysterical. You're actually hysterical. Drop the CIA and work on your comedy act!" Sark answered, piling ice into the Ziploc.
She gasped as the icy sensation touched her inflamed knee. Sark leaned past her, and she could smell the gentle scent of his cologne, as he removed a tensor bandage from the First-Aid kit on lying carelessly on the table. Anna had forgotten how intoxicating the scent of the opposite sex could be.
Sark expertly wound the bandage around her knee, one hand at her thigh steadying his movements. Her body screamed at the pressure on her leg and for the second time in 24 hours, she realized how long it'd been since she'd been with a man. But this time...her desires were more raw, more physical. It'd been too long.
"It's like riding a bike. Isn't that the expression you Americans always use? You just don't forget how to do it!"
Anna's head shot up, looking rather alarmed. "What?" His words broke her spell. Was he reading her mind? Did he know her thoughts?
Sark looked at her pointedly. "First-Aid. You just...remember it all even though you don't use it all the time?"
She nodded emphatically, feeling relieved. "Totally, yeah." Anna bit her lip, deciding whether or not to tell him about her find in Kirsch's airplane.
"There. I hope that's not too restricting." He interrupted her inner debate, patting the bandage in place gently. Sark moved back on the end of the bed, looking up at her questioningly. "What is it?"
"What?" Anna distractedly brushed off his question, moving around him to sit cross-legged facing his back.
He swirled around, his eyes boring into hers. "Seriously, Anna, say it."
She held up her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine! But this is strictly between you and me--,"
"Aww, it's like our first marital bond," Sark said, smirking.
Anna's eyes drew smaller and she tossed her hair haughtily. "I hate you. Have I said that yet today?"
Sark grinned. "At least three times already...but seriously, tell me. I mean, think of all the CIA rules and regulations you've blown past already! One more is nothing."
"Alright, alright. Just stop the chatter. Have you always been this...talkative. I prefer evil, sullen Sark," retorted Anna, faking a sweet smile.
"I'll keep that in mind," he answered coolly, winking at her.
"Oh, good God. Anyway, so when I was on Kirsch's plane, looking for the nukes, I found something completely insane. I have no idea what this means," she confided, leaning over to pull the vial of blood labeled with her name from her jacket and handed it to him.
Sark fingered it for a moment before his eyes scanned the label. "Anna Parker." His forehead furrowed in confusion. "What does this mean?"
"That's what I've been wondering. I'd never even heard of this man before last week and he was carrying my blood? It just doesn't make sense. Not to mention it's just plain creepy!" Anna clasped her hands together and rested her chin on them, her brown eyes softening in vulnerability as she looked closely at him. "Do you know anything about this? Anything?"
"Anna, no. I'm as clueless as you are concerning this."
She sighed deeply. "I didn't tell Syd about it. Between Rambaldi, that stupid prophecy, and her fugitive mother, I figured that she really doesn't need to deal with this right now." Anna looked down at her socks, picking off bits of lint. "Besides...it's probably just a coincidence...means nothing," she added, trying to sound nonchalant.
"I'm sure it is," Sark agreed softly. He glanced at her nervously biting her lip. "It's nothing to be concerned about."
Anna gave a small smile, though strained on her gentle features. "Anyway, we should probably get going. Another plane ride..what fun!" Her voice had returned to normal, her expression devoid of any insecurity or fear.
----
"That was the longest trip ever," Anna complained as the taxi drove up to the dock. The cruise was to board at Cyprus and then travel along the Mediterannean Sea, stopping at various cities and towns along the way.
Sark nodded, unsmiling. "That child infront of us reminded me why, in many cases, I'm against procreation."
Anna laughed. "It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't have decided that spitting his macaroni at us would be a fun way to pass the time! Oh God, that was so funny when he hit you right in the face. You know, the pasta- cheese combination really worked with your skin-tone!"
"It's funny for those omitted from the experience! This is it, I think." The taxi driver stopped the car and Sark took a couple of bills, saying "Σας ευαριστοÏμε." (Thank You) Anna was impressed, raising her eyebrows as she stepped out the car, clutching her bags. "You speak Greek?" "There are plenty of things you do not know about me. But yes, I'm fluent in Greek, amongst other languages," he replied cockily. "Aren't you?" "υσικά (Of course)," she said, her eyes flashing. They started to walk over to where passengers were being let on to the ship, hearing a variety of languages, though most of the signs were in English. "It's beautiful out here," exclaimed Anna, gazing at the coastline full of rich blues and greens. "See, Parker, it might not be so bad—sometimes things just work to a--," "Sark...why does that sign say "The Magic of Marriage Cruise: Sailing Through Therapy"?" Anna interrupted warily.
Sark grimaced at the bright, cheerful banner as he took it in. "Goody. It appears that this cruise has a theme. Looks like we can start our therapy early after all!"
"Oh. Holy. Jesus." Anna turned away quickly, prepared to forget about the entire mission. "Time to go!"
He grabbed her elbow, pulling her back infront of him. "Are you serious?"
"Abso-freakin'-lutely. There is no way in hell I'm pretending to be married to you!" she exclaimed heatedly, glaring at him.
He yanked her closer to him, casually smiling at an older couple about to board the ship as he did so. The elderly woman gazed at them fondly, commenting, "So young, so passionate...just can't keep their hands off one another," to her husband.
Anna plastered a tight smile on her face, clenching her teeth. "Let go of me. We're leaving!"
"Few things first, darling. Firstly, you're willing to cede everything we've fought for because you don't want to play charades? I refuse to believe that after all of this, you're just going to let Sloane, a man you claim to hate, go!" he hissed into her ear, his expression completely relaxed, despite his intense words.
She kept her head high, staring right at him. "And the second thing?"
Sark released her arm, holding out his instead and taking her bag with his free hand. "We're already married. We need not pretend!"
Anna made a face at him. "Oh, isn't that a persuasive touch!" But she grudgingly took his arm, realizing that he was right. She couldn't let Sloane win so easily. "But don't expect me to be happy about it."
"You in a passably good mood? I wouldn't dream of it," Sark shot back at her as they walked over to the registration desk.
"Bite me," she sang softly, before readjusting her features to seriousness. "So luckily, I was able to get us spaces on this cruise under Anna and Julian Parker—,"
Sark lips curled into a wry smile. "How modern of you."
"Hey, I'm in charge here and it's bad enough we're, you know...," Anna paused, averting her eyes and coughing. "Married, or whatever," she continued rushedly, "And there is no way we could ever go under your name, both for personal and professional reasons! But identities aren't a big deal. No one has any clue where we are. In fact, I'm pretty sure the CIA still thinks we're in Europe."
"They always were falling behind!" Sark said.
"Hey!"
"I didn't mean you. You're clearly the best the CIA has," he complimented.
"Marriage has done wonders for your temperament, darling." Anna smiled at the elderly couple at the check-in table. Time to act. "Hi there! We are just too excited about this cruise, aren't we?"
Sark grinned, his bright white teeth exposed. "Oh, absolutely. We've been literally counting down the days."
The woman, with tightly curled gray-white hair, smiled tightly back at them. "You're awfully young to be in marital therapy. Why, we didn't start goin' 'til we was in our fourties, eh Herb?" Shirley Henderson, as indicated from her name-tag, was detectably from somewhere in the South United States.
"Oh, you're American. I am too, but Julian here is English! Fabulous. Anyway, yes, we're newlyweds--,"
"Very new," Sark interrupted his wife.
"Yes. And we just wanted to start working on our marriage from the get-go. You know, keep it fresh and open from the start, right, honey?" Anna set her brown eyes on Sark, looking lovingly from Shirley and Herb's view.
"That's right, love." Sark wound his arm around her waist and Anna tried not to look surprised.
Shirley continued to smile at them, her crooked, yellowy teeth visible. "Aww...that's sweet. I can tell that you two are gonna last, and I've seen lotsa couples, don't 'ya know? Herb knows," she elbowed her husband in the gut, "I got the sight."
Anna's smile faltered a bit. "Oh, well I hope you're right."
Sark coughed. "Excuse me." Anna shot him an icy look before turning her gaze back to Herb and Shirley.
Shirley looked down at her clipboard. "Oh, hon, I need your names."
"Julian and Anna Parker," Sark answered, leaning across the table to help her find them. "Ah, right there", he pointed.
"What a gentleman!" Shirley gushed, winking at Anna.
Anna smiled, her bottom teeth digging into her lip."Oh yes, a real...piece of work,"
"Hmm...you're in room 247. Here's your key and schedule!" Shirley said perkily, her husband grumbling incomprehensibly at her side.
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Hender—,"
Shirley flapped her hands around. "Oh no, no, dear! Call me Shirley. Do ya want Herb here to help you with your luggage?"
"No, no. That's fine. Besides...we packed light," Sark jumped in, flashing a charming smile.
"You gotta watch out for this one, Ms. Anna. All these ladies here'll be gawking after you. He's a real charmer," Shirley added, as Anna and Sark started up the ramp.
Anna turned her head and replied brightly, "No fear. I'll beat them off with a stick." With that, she smiled and turned back to continue up the ramp.
"Fiery, that one, eh, Herb?" Shirley murmured to her husband who just grunted. "I'm betting they got one volatile relationship!"
If she only knew.
----
Sark tossed something towards Anna and she caught it flawlessly. "What's this?"
"I suppose you could call it 'gear'," he said over his shoulder as he walked into the bathroom. Their room was a fair size and beautifully furnished. They had taken a moment to make it their own by tossing heir luggage on the bed, only cracking open the suitcase with their gear. Sark was mildly apprehensive about living in such close quarters with Anna for an extended period of time. Things could get...complicated...
It was a tiny, velvety gray box. Anna ran her hands over the smooth surface, finally flipping the top open; a beautiful, shining white-gold ring, simple yet extraordinary, lay entombed. "It's amazing," she whispered to herself, glancing around automatically, wondering if this was really for her.
"Well, what do you think, then?" He was leaning against the bathroom door, a crooked smile on his face.
Anna fingered the small ring, feeling the hard, sharp diamond graze her touch. "I—ugh, yeah. Wow. Er,...I don't quite understand. What's it for?"
"For my wife," he replied quietly, moving closer to her.
Anna swallowed, suddenly aware of how small the room was. "Uhhh...," was all she managed to choke out.
"For Anna Parker, from Julian Parker," Sark explained.
Anna sighed in relief. "Right, yeah. I suppose we should have wedding rings—you know, for our cover here. 'Course we could've always just said we misplaced them or something." It was for his wife. His pretend wife, not the real Anna Parker.
"Read the brochure. 'All couples must have wedding rings. They are a symbol of love and union. Any type of ring is acceptable so long as it be worn at most times'," he recited knowingly.
Anna threw her head up, her forehead creased. "That's stupid...but I guess, we don't make the rules, Ward and June out there do."
"Ward and June?" Sark asked curiously, his eyes lifted.
She shifted her weight to one side, hands on her hips. "Are you joking me? Hello! Ward and June Cleaver—Leave It to Beaver?" She snuck at a glace at his blank face. "Nothing? Oh come on, they're classic! Ack, you're hopeless!"
"Alright, alright. Just because I'm unfamiliar with your American sitcoms, 'classics' apparently...well, try it on, then!" Sark answered, gesturing towards the box enclosed in Anna's hand.
She chewed on her lower lip, looked up at him with those warm brown eyes, and then back down at the box, finally flicking it open again. It really was an exquisite piece of jewelry. Anna put it delicately on the ring- finger on her left hand. Only, it didn't quite fit her finger; it was only half-way on. "It's...ouch, too small!"
Sark came infront of her, looking closely at her hand. "So push it a little, it should fit!"
"Yeah, thanks tips. How helppppful...," she replied, her voice strained with effort. "Agh, oww. I can't move it! I can't get it off!"
"I'm sure it doesn't hurt that bad!"
"You try cramming a ring way too small onto your finger!" Anna retorted angrily, looking at her sore, red ring-finger.
"It should fit." Sark bent his head towards hers, examining the problem. "I think you're just overreacting."
"Shut up!"
"Just let me see it!" He took her hand, and slowly twisted the ring round and round.
"That hurts! Well, isn't this romantic!"
He gave her a look that she knew meant silence. "This was my mother's ring. She gave it to me a while ago and I don't know...it goes where I go. Apparently, it's an antique that my father gave to her...before things got...difficult. My mother told me the myth behind it—the person who wears it, well, they're supposed to be protected. This ring will protect whomever bears it."
"How very Lord of the Rings," Anna joked, though her comment was ill-timed.
"Ah, there we go!" The ring was now sliding off her finger easily.
Anna clutched her sore finger, shaking off the pain. "Thanks. Good God. That is some ring."
Sark didn't look up, but was staring intently at the ring. "Way to ruin a moment, Parker! Come here, let's try it again."
"Oh no freakin' way. It hates me!" Anna backed away cautiously.
Sark exhaled, grabbing her hand. Expertly he guided the ring onto her finger, gently and smoothly. He held it there for a moment, his eyes resting on hers intensely. "There."
"There," she repeated tenderly, completely forgetting what smart comment she'd intended on making. All she could feel was the weight of the ring on the finger and his skin touching hers. For an instant, she almost forgot who was standing before her and realized that this feeling of utter happiness must be what it is to be loved and proposed to.
Sark jerked his hand away suddenly. For an instant, he'd known what it would be like to love someone enough to want to spend the rest of your life with them. That perfect someone who makes you a better person and who you arise in the morning for. What a frightening thought.
Anna awkwardly changed the topic. "Maybe we should get to work. Hook up to the computer system and find out who Dresden is." She couldn't resist sneaking a glance at the sparkle on her finger. Whew, she breathed inwardly.
Sark sat down on the bed, turning the t.v. with the remote. "Good idea." He was still distracted with the rush of emotions from their 'moment'.
"I'm just...gonna...run to the washroom." Anna hurried towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut.
"You do that!" Sark said absently, flopping his back down on the bed.
Anna leaned against the bathroom door, trying to slow her heartbeat.
Sark laid on the now-rumpled comforter, attempting to forget.
It was going to be a long ride.