a/n: thanks to sallene for her help!

The Realms of Dating

Dinner. Simple, traditional . . . and yet more nerve-wracking than jumping off a building.

Sark held the door to the restaurant open for Sydney. His eyes shut as she walked by and he caught just a hint of whatever scent she was wearing. He took a deep breath to calm his heart.

The restaurant was casual, but still nice enough for a good bottle of wine. Sark immediately stepped in at that point of the order while everyone perused their menus.

Ilene was almost bouncing with her wedding energy, and it was starting to annoy everyone—except Alan, of course. Probably a good thing there—otherwise he'd back out.

It was good to see Alan again, even though the two were never chummy. On the way to the restaurant, they'd made polite conversation, catching up on Alan's trip and whatever else. Now, sitting across from Sydney, Sark was glad to be able to engage her in conversation.

"What was life like for you two, growing up in Ireland?" Alan asked. He leaned back in his chair and started on his wine. Sark glanced at Ilene, and she took the lead with a smile.

"Normal. And fun," she said with a coy glance at her brother. Sark started to wonder what she was thinking about. "With Calvin and Julian around, things were always goofy."

"Really?" Sydney said. She suddenly leaned forward, and her interest scared Sark. "Give us an example."

"Yes indeed," Sark said, making light of it, "Give us an example." Actually, he didn't remember much from their childhood, and was curious what Ilene had in mind.

"Well, we went on this vacation to tour Scotland Yard," she started.

Oh no. Sark was remembering. He couldn't suppress a groan as Ilene continued.

"And Julian decided it would be fun to take his own tour." She flashed a mischievous grin at him. "So he grabs Calvin and me, and we go running off behind the tour group. We got to this elevator and up to the offices—which was restricted, of course—but no one stopped us until we got there."

Sydney grinned, liking where this was headed. Even if it's at my expense.

Especially if it's at my expense.

"This agent, or whatever, stops us and asks us what we're doing up here. Julian, as calm as can be, just says his mom works in the office, and that we're on our way to see her. The agent buys it, and we keep going—"

Alan started to laugh, shaking his head until Ilene held up one hand to silence him.

"It gets better. Julian somehow finds his way beyond the offices to their practice area—like, shooting and training. I don't know what he was thinking, but he waltzes right up to the manager over the area and says his 'mom on the 8th floor' told him to come down and target practice for awhile."

Sydney had a hand clamped over her mouth, and Alan didn't even try to suppress his laughter.

"The manager takes one look at us, and calls security," Ilene finished up.

Sark allowed himself to smile. "Yes, if I recall, I got into a lot of trouble for that one."

"How old were you?" Sydney asked. The gleam and light in her eyes made Sark's heart leap. It was the happiest he'd seen her in days.

"I don't remember," Sark answered. "Do you?" he said to Ilene. She shrugged.

"You must have been eleven or so," she said. "But the look on the guy's face!!" She laughed to herself.

"My first brush with Scotland Yard," Sark said lightly. Ilene took a liberal sip of her wine.

"Did your family travel a lot?" Sydney asked.

"We took at least one vacation every year," Sark answered.

"Oh!" Ilene suddenly exclaimed. "Do you remember that trip to Australia?"

Australia? He couldn't remember such a trip—they rarely left Great Britain, much less go around the world.

"Cal and I—" Suddenly Ilene stopped. "Oh." Sark nodded, realizing what she finally understood.

Sydney and Alan shared a look and then glanced between the siblings.

"What?" Alan asked.

"Um," Sark said, clearing his throat, "that must have been after I left."

"Left," Alan repeated. "For the world of international espionage, right?" He had a teasing gleam in his eye, and while Sark knew he was just kidding, he still wanted to clock him upside the head.

"Yes," Sark said, controlling his temper. "Thank you for pointing that out."

"Actually," Ilene said, stepping into the tense conversation. "I just remembered another memory." Sark raised an eyebrow at her, questioning if this one will be as . . . sensitive.

"What is it?" Alan prompted.

"Christmas," she said. Alan suddenly nodded. What? Sark thought. How does he already know where she's headed and I don't? "Remember how we open one present on Christmas Eve?"

Sark slowly nodded. "Yes. We'd draw names." Suddenly he scrunched his forehead, thinking. "We never celebrated Christmas—well, you guys probably did, but I missed the last two." He didn't bother to mention the eight Christmases before that.

"Do you remember that you drew my name?"

He smiled, seeing where his sister was headed. "Yes, two Christmases ago. But I never got to give it to you."

She leaned forward, excited. From the corner of his eye, Sark saw Sydney hold back a laugh at Ilene's eagerness.

"What is it?" his sister asked. Sark smirked and casually crossed his arms over his chest.

"It's not Christmas," he said with a cocky air. Ilene groaned and looked to her fiancé for help. Alan just held up his hands.

"Don't look at me," he said.

"How about this, Ilene," Sark said. His eyes wandered as he thought about the issue. He ran a hand through his blonde hair. "I'll make it a wedding present." His eyes sparkled with what he knew, taunting that to his sister.

She made a show of pouting but nodded.

--------

Sydney had to admit dinner was quite entertaining. Hearing about Sark and Ilene's growing up years and seeing the obvious bond between them made her happy.

"We're going to get some ice cream," Alan said as they left the restaurant. "Want to come?" His arm was wrapped lovingly around Ilene and she cuddled to that comfort.

Sydney started to nod, but Sark cut her off.

"No, I think we'll just take a walk and meet you at home."

She stared at him. Didn't see that coming. But maybe she should have. They hadn't really had time alone in awhile, especially with the whole Kora thing.

Sydney knew Sark was going insane about that. She hadn't said a thing to him about it, instead just maintaining distance between them. He probably expected her to yell and get mad at him openly, but she hadn't.

And that's probably worse for him. She almost smiled at that.

They walked off, down the street. There was no contact between them, no snuggling or arms around each other as they walked. We're not to that point anymore.

"You were kind of quiet during dinner," Sark commented. Sydney almost rolled her eyes.

"I was just listening," she said plainly. Realizing how cold that might have sounded, she hurried on. "It was interesting, finding out some of your memories with your family."

He merely nodded. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his khakis. Sydney took a second to appreciate his appearance. His shirt was a simple short-sleeved green button up, but the contrast of green against his blue eyes and slightly tan skin was gorgeous. His hair was getting long, she noticed. It was starting to curl, and not spike the way he tended to like it.

"You need a haircut," she said. Instantly she wanted to hit herself. Sark raised an eyebrow at that.

"I'll see to that tomorrow," he said, a little aloof. "That was random."

Sydney felt her skin heat up. "Yeah, well . . . just trying to keep you on your toes."

And then the silence, diminished only by their footsteps. Sydney looked at where they were headed, and saw the park that she had found Alan's car at a couple of months ago.

"So tell me about some memories of your mom," Sark said suddenly. She shot him a look. "Well, we've heard about my childhood to an extent. Now it's your turn."

Sydney sighed with a sad smile on her lips. "You know her better than I do. You spent more time with her than I have. Why don't you tell me something?"

Sark swallowed and visibly blanched. Sydney almost felt bad for turning the situation on him. Almost.

He cleared his throat, bringing a hand to cover his mouth and then tucking it back into his pocket.

"Um," he started uneasily, "well, I went to your mother as an employee. Our relationship was always based on the work. But eventually she trusted me enough that I started to see … the human side of her."

Sydney didn't say anything, but just listened as they walked. She could feel the awkwardness in his voice, the regret as he recalled a time in his life that caused so much pain. But he kept going, and she didn't stop him.

"There was this one time, when she sent me out to steal something from Colombia. It was right around Christmas, Christmas Eve, I think." He stopped as if remembering bit by bit. "I couldn't have been more than eighteen at the time. The op was successful, though I had a bit of a run-in with some dogs. When I got back the next day, I was in my room, cleaning myself up. And she came in, all dressed up in a sequined dress, looking very formal and all."

Sydney suddenly had a sickening thought that her mom seduced Sark. She swallowed the bile threatening to rise in her throat.

"She opened up my closet, where this tuxedo was waiting. She said, 'Sark, we're going out tonight.'" He laughed at the memory, and Sydney could see the endearment in his eyes. She allowed herself to breathe normally. "We went to this very elaborate party, eating fine foods and drinking wine. And we danced and just had a good time." He paused again. "It was the first time I'd seen her really casual—not acting. She didn't care what anyone thought about us, whether we were mother and son, or lovers, or, in reality, co-workers…" He trailed off again. "I perfected the tango that night."

He laughed again, and as Sydney looked at him, she saw him blush a little.

"Anyway, after that I didn't just work for her. I cared about her, as my mentor and as a friend."

Sydney let that sink in as they walked through the park.

"While you were gone, did you see her?" she asked. Part of her had suspected that after he faked the assassination attempt in Ontario. Part of her feared he'd gone back to Irina and that life.

"No, Sydney." That hand came up to run through his hair again. "I haven't seen her since I got the Retract files back, last year." He sighed. "To be honest, I really don't want to see her again."

That surprised Sydney, especially after the fond memory he shared.

"Why not?"

He sighed again and stopped walking. He threw back his head and stared at the night sky before answering.

"I just don't trust her," he said quietly. "No matter how much I may believe her or want to believe her, I will always wonder what her true motives are."

Sydney stared at the ground. She'd felt the same way too, but she couldn't hate her mother. Part of her believed that Irina just couldn't help herself sometimes. And in that way, her mother was weak.

"You know, speaking of trust," Sark said, clearing his throat again. "Are you ever going to forgive me for what I did in the Bahamas?"

That made her mad. In a flash, her blood started to rush through her, sounding like a tidal wave in her ears.

"Did you ever ask for forgiveness?" she shot back. "No—you just told me you made out with some waitress while on vacation." She hadn't yelled, but the anger in her voice was barely contained.

"Sydney, I told you because I wasn't going to hide my mistake," Sark said.

"Well, gee, Sark," she said between clenched teeth. "Thanks for that honesty." With that, she quickly scurried off away from him.

The nerve! He thinks he's doing me a favor by being honest.

Wait—that came out wrong. I'm glad he was honest. I'm just fed up with him thinking he's all great and wonderful, when he's not!!

She took a deep breath, knowing she was about to scream into the night air.

"Sydney!" Sark was running behind her. There was a touch of frustration in his tone, and that just made Sydney start to rant in her mind again.

"Would you have preferred if I hadn't told you, Syd?" she heard him say from behind her. Sydney whirled around, her hair flying out and whipping him in the face. She hadn't realized he was that close, but she didn't care either.

"No! I would have preferred if you had just not run away!" And with that, she ran away.

Sark followed her, and she felt his hands on her arm, pulling her back. Her eyes flashed her anger at him, and he released her.

"Sydney, you're right." He held up his hands in surrender. "You're right. I shouldn't have run away."

Okay, he admitted it. Now what?

"So why did you?" she asked, though her tone still hot. "I mean, how was I supposed to take that? You run away a few times, from all of us, and then you run off for a vacation—to escape, clear your head, whatever!—but I gave you the space." She pointed a finger at him, almost waving it at him to make her point. "I've been nothing but patient and I've tried to understand. But when you go off and practically sleep with some girl to escape, how is that supposed to make me feel?!"

He didn't say anything, but he suddenly found his shoes much more interesting. Sydney watched as he swallowed and raised his head to face her.

"You're right," he started.

"Don't tell me I'm right!" she yelled at him. "Tell me why! We've been back and forth on this relationship for how long? You shut me out after Scotland, you kept me out after Alaska, and the first time I really have you opening up is when you've fooled around with some waitress in the Bahamas!"

Sark clenched his fists, and took a deep breath. She was getting him angry, but she didn't care.

"Look, at the risk of you getting angrier with me, would you stop referring to her as 'some waitress'?" Sark said. Sydney's jaw dropped. "Regardless of what you think happened, she is still a decent person."

Stunned. Silence.

I can't believe he just said that. Her mouth hung open.

And then she swung a right hook at him. Her fist smacked against his face, and Sark's head snapped back. He stumbled but didn't fall, and Sydney just turned away from him, ready to call it quits.

Sydney speed-walked through the park, back towards the street and ready to go home. To L.A. The charade was over. She would have to endure an 'I-told-you-so' speech from her father, but at least she wouldn't be miserable anymore.

Suddenly Sark was in front of her. Where he came from, she wasn't sure, but it startled her.

"Before you say a word, please just hear me out," Sark said. Sydney opened her mouth to object, but Sark shot her a pleading look. His cheekbone was red from her hit, and she couldn't help but smirk at that.

"You want to know why? There are so many reasons I ran. I tried to escape from everything, including myself." He must have run to catch up with her because he stopped to catch his breath. "I was an idiot to run. I thought it was to protect you, to protect my family. I thought I was doing the right thing to just disappear. And then I saw none of you would stand for that."

He took another breath, running a hand through his messy hair. "I don't know why I went to the Bahamas. I just needed to be alone."

Sydney opened her mouth to pin him on that one, but his hand clamped over her lips. His eyes were bright in the darkness. "Please," he said with a convincing stare. "Kora … yes, we spent time together. We formed some sort of bond because of the events around us. But she wasn't who I wanted."

Does he think he can win me over with a cheesy pick-up line? They were beyond that, and Sydney was still itching to leave.

"The reason I'm … grateful I met her, is because she made me realize how much I need you."

Damn. It's starting to work

"I should never have run away. I should have turned to you, like you would have to me. Maybe old habits really die hard, because I was trying to be strong and alone. But I'm stronger when I'm with you."

Sydney was trying to blink back the tears she felt coming on. Her heart beat quickly and she wanted to hug him, but her pride kept her back. Do I really want this?

"Syd," he whispered. "I don't expect you to trust me right away. And I don't expect things to be perfect between us. But please . . . all I'm asking is that you give me a chance to be better."

Sydney tried to smile encouragingly, but started to shake her head. "Sark . . ."

"You can run away, Syd, but just like you found me, I'll find you," he said. A smile started to tug at his lips. "Call it stalking or whatever, but I have worse crimes on my record anyway."

She laughed, a short burst of release from the tension that ate at her heart. She started to nod, and as she did, Sark started to breathe more evenly.

"Okay," was all she said.

It was all she had to say.