a/n: Once again, trust me!! Thanks to sallene, as always!

Trust and Acceptance

She watched him, her head back and to the side to stare up at him. His head leaned again the wicker headboard.

Sark saw her immediately when he woke up. He smiled slowly.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice raspy. It made her smile.

"Better."

"Good," he said gently. Slowly, Sark unwound himself from her and the blanket. When he stood, his back cracked, a long series all the way down his spine. He grimaced.

He wasn't sure what to say. He was unaffected by the mugging, but then again, he was used to danger. Kora was not. Wait to see what she says.

Sark's cell phone buzzed on top of the dresser. It wasn't a call, but another message. Sark didn't really want to check the message, but just in case it was something serious . . .

"Julian, it's Ilene. Sorry to bother you, but I thought you'd want to know that Sydney got back here safely."

He gulped.

"Also, could you bring back something for me? I wanted to get a boat, for Calvin. His birthday's coming up, so if you could—"

Sark deleted the message, rolling his eyes. Kora watched him, her eyes open to this different moment he allowed her to see. He smiled tightly at her.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said. "Will you be all right?"

She nodded.

--------

It took some convincing, but Sark finally coaxed her out of the cabana. She was afraid, not that he blamed her. But Sark knew he had little food in his place, and he was starving.

They went to some resort and ate there. Kora picked at her food, but she did eat a little of it.

She was staring at him now as he ate. Sark swallowed, and stared back.

"What?" he asked. She glanced at the table top for a second, then back at him.

"You weren't scared at all," she said. Sark reached for some grapes, and leaned back in his chair. He casually popped the grapes in his mouth one by one as he thought.

"No, not really," he admitted. Although he felt nervous for her safety, he knew he could prevent the harm the muggers threatened.

She seemed confused. Sark waited for her next question.

"How were you not afraid?"

Sark chewed on a grape somewhat thoughtfully. How do I say this without giving too much away.

He tried to be light-hearted about it. "I just knew I could stop them." She seemed satisfied with that.

"Did you get your money back?" she asked, taking a sip of water. Sark's lips twitched, and he shook his head.

"It wasn't much," he said.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" Sark tried not to choke on a grape.

"Um," he started, thinking quickly. "I learned from one of my mentors." He almost snorted when he said that. Irina, a mentor.

Not the best example. But it worked.

"Thank you." Her eyes were wide now, and sad. Sark froze. "Thanks for saving me."

She was quiet the rest of the meal. Sark led her away from the restaurant, heading to where she said she lived.

Her eyes shifted everywhere, as if she were looking for someone. Her arms were tensely folded across her chest. Sark kept glancing at her. What is she worried about?

Suddenly she stopped walking, her eyes widely fixated ahead of her. Sark looked up at what caught her attention.

The first thing he noticed was the shark tattoo. The young man seemed bigger in daylight. Then again, he'd seen him in the catamaran shop, but for some reason the man seemed larger now.

Sark gauged that the man's bulk didn't stem from muscle, but he seemed motivated enough. He glared across the street at Sark, and then let his eyes wander over Kora.

"Patrick," Kora whispered fearfully.

Sark looked around them, but didn't see Shark Boy's friend. You did damage his knee.

But still, better go soon.

Sark led Kora along, into another bar. "Why don't we wait here for a little while?"

She was shaking again.

"Hey, Kora, it's okay," he said. He pulled her to his body and wrapped his arms around her.

She shook her head vigorously.

"No, it's not," she said, almost whimpering. "We should go to the police, Patrick."

Uh…Not likely.

"It's all right. I won't let them hurt you," he said. Why do you even care? Something about this woman made him feel like he had to protect her. Mainly because she can't protect herself.

Sydney would never be so afraid.

He told himself to stop comparing, especially now.

"You're just a tourist," Kora said. Her voice hissed at him as her fear turned to anger. "I live here!"

He sighed. "Look, I'll take you to the police station, all right?" Her eyes narrowed at him.

"You're not coming with me," she noted. "Why?" Sark sighed again.

"I'll take you to the police, but I'd rather not make the report."

"Why not?"

Sark didn't answer her, but stood up, ready to leave. He didn't look at her, but kept his eyes on the exits.

Finally she stood up and they left.

His eyes darted around now, half because of Shark Boy and half because he just felt skittish now. He didn't like lying—that's new!—especially to this woman. He didn't know why. But he couldn't help the anger he felt now that she questioned him.

What do you expect? She doesn't know a thing about you, and if she did, she would run for her life.

He pursed his lips together.

The police station was a good fifteen minute walk away. Cabs passed by, but it was easier this way. Sark didn't say a word.

They were a few blocks away when Kora suddenly stopped. Sark looked around quickly.

"Patrick," she said. Her voice was soft, and when Sark looked at her light eyes, she looked . . . sorry. "I didn't mean to … I'm sorry I made you uncomfortable."

He almost laughed, but she pulled his arm and led him away from the public eye. They retreated to an alley between a restaurant and a shop.

She stopped and turned Sark's body so she was facing him. Sark took a step back and leaned against a wall.

"I know you said you wanted to leave your past alone, and I didn't respect that," she said. "I should have been . . . better, to you."

Sark glanced at his shoes. Well, that was nice of her. Now what? He tried to find something to say, something to put her at ease.

"Kora—"

Suddenly her fingers covered his mouth, shushing him. She closed the distance between them, and kissed his lips.

Sark almost jumped. Her lips were warm and soft. But she was being firm, pressing against him. It was tentative at first, but now she was more fervent.

He didn't know when it started, but he kissed her back. Her hands caressed his arms, moving over his firm muscles and onto his chest. Sark allowed his hands to settle at her waist, but his thumbs moved in circles over her lean hips.

His eyes were shut, savoring the taste and feel of her. He could feel his heart racing, something it hadn't done for romance in awhile.

She pulled back and looked into his blue eyes. She was searching for something to say, something to fill the moment or compliment it. But Sark didn't want words. He moved forward, driving her back against the other wall, and then he kissed her hard. He braced his left arm against the wall, shielding them somewhat as they kissed. His other hand ran light paths down the side of her torso.

He nipped at her lips, and she nipped back. His breathing was ragged, but he didn't let up as he kissed her. She matched his pace and that fueled him more.

Gravel scraped at the entrance of the alley, but Sark ignored it. Let them watch if they want. Kora was driving him mad, and he loved it.

He heard another scrape, like a footstep. Too close. Sark suddenly pulled away and glared at the source.

Crap.

It was Shark Boy, wielding another knife. But the whelp wasn't alone. Kora gasped as she saw them too.

Five men, versus me and Kora. He immediately counted on just himself.

"You busted my friend's knee," the Shark Boy said. Sark rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure what you stole from me will cover the bills," Sark said.

"Yeah," the guy said. "But this will make me feel better." He lunged at Sark, catching air with his knife. Sark spun around and kicked him in the back. He quickly turned to the others as they came upon him.

He struggled and fought, but the odds weren't in his favor. One of them grabbed Kora, and that distracted him. She tried to scream, but the man easily held her. A knife was to her throat again, and Sark understood the threat. He stilled, and the other four, including Shark Boy, now had him.

They dragged him and Kora away, deeper into the alley and towards shacks behind the center of town.

--------

The muggers took Kora and Sark to a dirty shack. It'd been abandoned long ago, and the dirt and grime inside rivaled most subway stations. They slammed Sark's back into a rickety wall. It actually shook upon impact.

Sark winced.

"Let her go," he said between clenched teeth. The leader, with the shark tattoo, held the knife to Sark's face. The tip of the blade traced down his temple and cheek.

"No," he said. The man holding Kora had one hand clamped over her mouth, and the other held a knife constantly at her throat. Kora's eyes fed streams down her face. The fear in them made Sark start to fear—for her.

"I'll tell you what, though," Shark Boy continued. "I promise not to kill her. You, though . . ." He started to laugh, and his friends joined in. "We'll have to see." Suddenly he swung at Sark, nailing him in the face. Sark's head whipped back against the rickety wall.

Shark Boy swung again, but this time low in Sark's stomach. Sark coughed as he doubled over. The two men by his sides forced him up, and threw punches of their own to his chest.

It hurt, but Sark chastised himself for feeling the pain at all. You should be beyond this. You've been through more than any spy has.

Sark set his jaw firmly as his eyes blazed at his tormentors. They have no idea. Suddenly he smiled, even as blood flowed from his lip. It threw off the group for a second.

"What are you smiling about?" one of them taunted. He thrust forward with a knife and slashed Sark's shirt. And then his eyes widened when he saw Sark's scars.

"I'll give you one chance to leave us alone," Sark said, his eyes frozen over and staring into Shark Boy. His prey laughed it off.

"You think you're tough, huh? You think you can stop me if I want your girl?"

Sark didn't grace that with an answer, though his eyes flickered involuntarily to Kora. Shark Boy smiled triumphantly, and suddenly slashed at Sark. The knife singed through the air and then muted as it slashed through the skin on his chest.

Sark groaned, and tried to struggle, but the men slammed his back again against the wall. His eyes flared. "You won't live if you do that again."

The leader huffed at that, and swung again.

Sark wrenched his arms free from the holds on him, and caught the falling knife. He twisted his body and pulled the knife from Shark Boy's hands. He swiveled around and threw the knife, right into the shoulder of the man holding Kora. He screamed and started to go down.

Someone dead-legged him, and Sark went down on one knee. He could almost hear the air moving as someone swung at him. Sark pushed himself up with his hand. He turned and thrust his elbow into the nearest one, then turned again to drop-kick another. Shark Boy seemed emboldened and swore at Sark before launching an attack. He punched like a boxer, but with no grace. Sark dodged a hit, and another. Shark Boy's arm went past Sark, and that's when Sark made good on his warning. He grabbed the man's arm and pushed him further using his momentum. As Shark Boy's head went by, Sark grabbed it, and violently twisted it. A sickening crunch made all the man's allies stop.

Shark Boy fell dead to the floor.

Finish it.

He dove after Shark Boy's knife, rolling as he grabbed it. He came up on his feet and chucked the knife into Thug #3. It hit his chest.

The other two seemed nervous now as they got to their feet. Sark took two steps and spun around with his leg extended. He caught both of them at once.

He could end it. Part of him wanted to. It was self-preservation. They wouldn't just sit back now that he'd killed a couple of their friends. Sark sighed, and knelt by the two knocked-out thugs. Wearily, he punched each one in the throat. He heard the last breaths seep out like a leak in a tire.

He stayed hunched over their dead bodies for a moment. When he stood up and looked to Kora, she flinched. Her tears still flowed and she stepped back, away from him.

"Kora," he said, taking a step toward her. That just frightened her more.

"Please," she said, "Stay back." She almost tripped herself trying to put distance between them.

He sighed again. He could explain the reasons, but did it really matter?

"Who are you?" she whispered. It wasn't a request for his name. It was a question of his being. And after the tender moments they shared not long ago, it was a blow to Sark.

"I don't know." He didn't move, but just stared at her. She was frightened and her appearance was disheveled. But she didn't care. Sark finally turned away and left the shack.

His walk to his cabana was swift. Sark kept his arms crossed over his chest to the thin cut there. It would scab over, but Sark didn't expect a scar.

He had to leave soon, before Kora told the police where he was.

Why did you do any of this?

His life could never be normal, not when he was what he was. There just was no going back.

I've changed. Changed from the 16-year-old boy he was when he entered this world, and changed from the ruthless spy as well. Acceptance . . . well, it was hard to find.

But his family accepted him. It'd taken some time and trials, but they really didn't frown on him anymore. Not that they condone it when I kill someone, he thought. But he wasn't just black and white evil.

Sydney had accepted him too, he realized as he walked into his cabana. He grabbed for his gun and tossed it in his bag, followed by his other personal items.

Sydney didn't see him as this evil person either. She didn't condemn him for choosing this life of pain, or for even trying to disappear to compensate for it. Even when she brought me back, she wasn't upset.

She was genuine.

What have I done? She'd resigned from the CIA, that thorn in his side that competed for her time and attention—even her very life. She threw that away, to be with him.

And where have you been? What have you been doing?

Ignoring her.

Brushing her aside, laughing at her efforts.

Driving her away.

Why?

Because you're too afraid to admit you could be happy with someone, and without the danger.

No, he thought. That's not it.

Yes it is. The danger would always exist, but the adventure seemed more alive when he only had himself to rely on. But Sydney offered to be part of the adventure.

Even a normal life can be adventurous. It could make him happy, if he was willing to stop and appreciate.

Stop moping and running away. For months now he had, and he had nothing good to show for it.

I have to go back. Not just because the police could be beating down his door any second, and not because the muggers might have more friends. I . . . I need them. All of them—his parents, his crazy brother, his dear sister and her fiancé, . . . and Sydney.

A shy tap on his door almost made Sark jump. It came from his veranda, straight off the beach. Kora stood there, her head low and her eyes meek.

Their eyes met, and Sark found himself letting her in.

She stared at him as she tried to tell him something.

"I don't know why I judged you," she said hoarsely. "It wasn't fair of me. Not when you saved me again."

Sark opened his mouth for his own apology, but she put a hand to his lips again.

"No, don't forgive me."

Odd, Sark thought. But he waited for whatever she needed to say.

"I want to make it up to you," Kora said. Her fingers found his latest wound and traced the sides of it. She stepped towards him, foot after foot, driving him back. His legs hit the bed. And then she leaned into him.

He fell back on the bed, his eyes wide but still. She climbed over him, straddling him, and then she fell against his chest and started to kiss him.

Her hot lips wandered over his face, kissing the bruises and cuts. She seemed to devour him, and Sark just lay there.

Her hands stroked his chest and wandered south. His breathing quickened, partially from lack of air as she claimed his lips. He felt her fingers brush below his stomach.

"Stop."

Did she say that, or did I? She pulled back, confused.

"What?" It was a shy whisper of a question, but she followed it with a bold kiss.

"Mmmm," Sark tried to pull away. "Kora." She pulled back again. Her eyes searched his, wondering why he was slowing this. Sark quickly rolled out from under her and continued to gather his things.

"You don't have to run," she said. "I didn't go to the police."

Interesting. But it didn't change anything.

"Patrick, please." She was up now, and stood in his way.

Sark sighed and clenched his bag in his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said somewhat hollowly. "But this was a mistake." He swallowed. "I have somewhere I should be."