A/N: OK, this chapter is really short – less than five pages. I was going to make it longer and a bit more eventful but that would mean that I wouldn't be able to update for a few more weeks cos school's been a real pain in the ass with final exams and assignments and stuff. I've already kept you waiting long enough – I'm so sorry! – so I'll give you this half of chapter nine for now. I'll post the rest up as chapter ten later. Again, I'm really sorry.

Chapter Nine

What was that nagging feeling in the pit of Sark's stomach? It had been residing there ever since Julia had stormed off about an hour ago, and no amount of work that he tried to involve himself in would make it go away. It was starting to worry him, as he'd begun to think that it had something to do with his rather idiotic comment about Julia being in heat.

He knew that he had hurt her feelings – heck, he'd done everything but call her a slut to her face – but usually an incident such as this wouldn't faze him. Sark didn't care about how a woman felt when he slept with them, just as long as he got what he wanted. Which he always did, ten times out of ten.

Something had changed, though. At least in regard to Julia, it had. Sark realised that the feeling in his stomach was something along the lines of guilt or regret – an emotion he had never experienced before in his entire life. Which would probably explain why he had no idea how to deal with it.

What was he supposed to do, tell her that she meant more to him that just a one night stand? Tell her that he was sorry?

Sark almost laughed at himself. 'Sorry' wasn't on his vocabulary list. He wasn't even sure if he knew the meaning of the word. Sure, he cared about what Julia thought of him – which at the moment he assumed was something along the lines of 'arrogant dickhead' – but did he care enough to apologise to her? He saw it as a sign of weakness that simply was not necessary. And besides, he had a reputation of being unfeeling to uphold.

Sark shook his head, sighing. This was one of the many reasons why he never allowed himself to have a close relationship with anyone. Although he and Julia were hardly close, or even friends, he'd already let her in further than he'd let anyone else in before. He admitted that that had been a mistake. Because look what was happening to Mr. Sark now.

The phone rang shrilly, and Sark gratefully left his thoughts behind. He answered with a curt "Yes?"

A voice on the other end said simply, without bothering to introduce themselves, "Tell 475 that her mission will start tomorrow night. 12:30am."

Her mission was starting already? That would mean she would have to leave, obviously. Wait, what was he saying?! He wasn't supposed to give a damn if she left or not.

Sark muttered, "Right."

"And Mr. Sark?"

"Yes?" he said again.

"Don't get too attached."

He blinked in surprise. "May I ask what that is supposed to mean?"

"You and the X5 seem to get along very well," the person stated matter-of-factly, ignoring his question.

Sark finally caught on. How the Covenant had managed to discover this, he didn't know – perhaps they'd seen him and Julia when they'd gone to get ice cream – but he certainly knew that he wasn't getting 'attached' to her.

"She is living in my house. I thought it would be rather rude to ignore her the entire time," Sark snapped.

"But there are limits. This is only a temporary arrangement. You aren't supposed to enjoy your time together."

The memory of Julia's soft skin underneath his fingers hit him hard. OK, there was one thing he was definitely attached to. "We occasionally spend time together," he said testily. "That doesn't necessarily mean that I'm about to declare my undying love for her."

At least that was the truth.

"Let's hope that's the case, Mr. Sark." And they hung up.

Sark blinked, listening to the tone for a few seconds before hanging up himself.

Was he getting attached to Julia? It wasn't possible. Was it?

Well, it didn't matter. He had to put an end to it now, before it got out of hand.

Maybe pissing Julia off wasn't such a bad thing. It could work to his benefit.

Julia stepped out of the shower, tying her damp hair into a knot on top of her head. She stared at her reflection critically. At least she looked somewhat presentable now – maybe she could keep whatever scrap of dignity she had left.

She'd made a complete fool of herself. She knew that already. That's what always happened when she went into heat and threw herself at a man whom she knew wouldn't give her a second thought the following morning. The only thing that comforted her was the fact that she'd never see that man again, and she could forget about the whole incident.

But this time, Julia would undoubtedly have to face him. She had no idea how long she would be staying with Sark, and she dreaded having to be constantly reminded of how she'd embarrassed herself.

Julia had hoped, though, that Sark might have at least the tiniest bit of consideration for her feelings. She thought that maybe he wouldn't rub in the fact that she'd be a great toy for someone who wanted to get laid, or shatter her self-respect into tiny fragments and scatter it on the floor.

But he did.

Stupid, arrogant dickhead.

Suddenly Julia stopped.

She rolled her eyes and started to get dressed, telling herself to get over it and to stop being such a whining idiot. Sark was just being, well, Sark. He couldn't help being a prick – that's just the way he was – and Julia promptly decided that she wouldn't hold it against him. It didn't matter that the closest thing she had to a friend now only thought of her as a cheap whore.

Great.

Julia walked out of the bathroom, suddenly depressed.

She found an extremely bored looking Sark sitting on the bed. He glanced up when the door opened. "Well it's about time -" he stopped himself. The look on his face became neutral, almost indifferent, replacing the originally friendly expression.

Weird.

Julia looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to finish speaking.

"I got a call from the Covenant. Your mission will be starting soon," Sark informed her.

Back to work again. "Oh, OK." Just when she was starting to like it here, doing nothing, she had to leave.

Sark got up to walk out, like that was all he had to say to her. This surprised Julia – usually he'd stay and exchange some good-natured banter, or pick a fight with her, and least.

"Sark?" she called.

He looked at her, hands in his pockets.

"What's wrong?" Julia asked.

"Nothing," he replied shortly.

"Something's bothering you."

"Nothing is bothering me."

It suddenly occurred to her. After hesitating, she said, "If it's got anything to do with what we did last night and me yelling at you before, you don't need to worry about it. I'm over it, OK?"

"I'm not worried about that," Sark retorted dismissively.

"Then what's the matter with you?" Julia persisted. "You're not like........yourself."

"How would you know if I'm not myself?" Sark demanded. "I doubt very much that you know me at all. So stop asking questions about my welfare."

He left very quickly after that.

Julia sank into the mattress on the bed, her eyebrows raised. Did she do something to wrong?

Hey – wasn't she supposed to be pissed off at him, not the other way around?

She flopped back onto the bed. "Men!" she muttered to herself and shook her head incredulously.

A/N: I hope that wasn't too boring! I know this chapter might seem like a whole lot of meaningless ramble, but it does have a purpose. So yeah, just to let you know. I ( hopefully ) know where this story's heading.