Part Thirteen

I stood up and stared Dixon straight in the eye. "What do we need to talk about?" I asked.

And here it comes, I thought. The: how could you Sydney? And: Why? He's a killer! The last thing I needed right now was a lecture about who I chose to sleep with. Or what I chose to do about it.

Dixon sighed. "Are you really sleeping with him?" he asked.

I looked at my dormer partner, considering what to tell him. Although after all we'd been through, he deserved the truth – and I could give him no less. "I was." I told him. "During my missing two years."

"But not anymore?"

I smiled at him, but I knew the smile didn't quite reach my eyes. "I only recently regained my missing memories." I said. "You could say I haven't had the chance."

A shadow flickered over Dixon's face, as he nodded slightly. "Can I ask why?" he said softly.

This time I gave Dixon a genuine smile. "Always." Then my smile fell. "You just probably won't believe me."

"Try me."

I looked Dixon straight in the eye. "I love him, Dixon." I said levelly, holding up a hand to stop his interruption. "I know that sounds hard to believe, but I do. I've never felt this way about anyone before – not even Danny."

Dixon nodded thoughtfully. Then he flicked a glance towards the security cameras and leaned forward. I raised my eyes when I saw him press a familiar button on his watch. "Syd, we've got about 30 seconds before they can hear us." He said quickly. "I know that you already know this, but Syd, they can't find out about Sark's involvement with the CIA."

"I do know that." I said. And I sure as hell wasn't going to jeopardise everything by blurting that out, either.

Dixon winced. "I'm sorry, Syd, but..."

"It's all right. I understand."

Dixon gave me a grateful smile. "I also have a message from you' father: hold tight, because he's going to find you a way out of here."

I nodded. That sounded like my father, all right. "I'll be ready." I said.

Dixon almost grimaced when the watch beeped. Time was up. "Hold on, Syd. And be careful."

I nodded and watched Dixon leave, and found myself alone once more. After a while, I lay back down on the bed. There was nothing else to do but wait. I smiled briefly. I could always dig around in my memories again...

I jerked my head up at the sound of a faint footstep. Wiping the tears from my eyes with my free hand, I pointed my gun in the direction of the sound. Angrily, I snapped, "What do you want, Sark?"

He seemed unsurprised, both at the way I had known it was him and the way I was still pointing a gun at his head. "I was merely stopping by for one of our usual chats, Sydney." He said. "No need to get hostile."

"I don't need this right now, Sark." I snapped.

"Need what?" he asked, walking forward and coming to sit on the couch beside me.

I sighed, putting my gun away. "You and you're constant needling!"

Sark looked at me. "And what has upset the famous Agent Bristow today?" he asked sarcastically.

"Shut up!" I snarled. "Just piss off, you selfish bastard."

"Now, now, Sydney..."

"You're right." I said, drawing my gun and pointing it at him again. "Now."

Sark smirked at me. "Even when I've brought you some new information to give to your CIA contact?" He fished a disk out of his jacket pocket.

"Fine." I said. "Leave the disk and go."

Sark simply did as he was asked and turned to leave, before turning back. "You know, it wouldn't hurt you to trust me a little, Sydney." He said.

"And it wouldn't hurt you to sometimes pretend you're not a selfish prick." I retorted. "Besides, you're not exactly a great one to talk about trust. You don't exactly trust me with much either."

Sark looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "What did you want to know?" he said seriously.

I looked at him warily, before putting the gun down on the coffee table in front of me. "Where were you born?"

"Can I sit down?"

I nodded, wondering if he would answer the question. Surprisingly, he did. "Galway, Ireland."

"So Marshall was right." I muttered.

"Yes, your friend is quite the genius."

I looked at him. "Who were your parents?"

"Oh, no." Sark said. "It's my turn to ask a question now. Trust works both ways."

I glared at him, but realised that this was probably the only way I was going to get anything out of him. "Fine." I said.

"Why were you crying?" he asked.

"Because I've killed two men in cold blood." I said shortly.

"Ah, your last mission." Sark's casual sounding words brought back that feeling of cold control that you have as you aim a sniper's rifle at someone. And then the bleak and utter emptiness that engulfs you the moment you take the shot. Because, you know deep in your mind, that you have just committed murder – even as you experience that momentary bemusement that a life is so easy to end.

"Yes." I said, my eyes squeezed shut. I forced myself to open them and shoved the feelings out of my mind. "So, who were your parents?" I asked, repeating my earlier question, trying to change subjects.

From the look in Sark's eyes, I know he knew what I was trying to do, but he didn't push me. "Anna Sark and Adrian Lazarey." He said emotionlessly, in answer to my question.

"That's it?" I asked, surprised at his cold and simple answer. "Are they only names to you or something?"

"You asked me who my parents were and I told you." Sark replied.

"Jesus." I said. "You're even colder than I thought."

"Oh, and how would you describe your parents, Agent Bristow?" Sark asked coldly.

His tone sent shivers up my spine, and I stared at him. And, taking a deep breath, I told him the truth. My eyes flickered shut, and I pictured my father's face. We'd never been the closest of people, but...he was my father. "My father is a man who has never gotten over his wife's betrayal and, despite everything, still loves her. He never let's anyone anymore, because he's scared he'll get hurt again. He uses distance as a defence and his work has been his life for so long that he doesn't know anything else." I said softly.

"And your mother?" Sark prompted just as softly.

"I barely know my mother." I said. "I have these memories of her singing to me. Or telling me stories. For most of my life, she was this perfect woman who loved her daughter so much. And then I found out the truth about her death, and...I don't know who she is anymore."

"To me, she will always be my saviour, mentor and protector. Irina looked after me when my mother was killed." Sark whispered so softly, I barely heard him. "She gave me the skills I needed to survive in a world full of lies and shadows."

"What happened to your mother?" I asked, opening my eyes to look at him.

"My father had her killed." He said, his eyes slightly clouded with memory. "I was twelve."

"Jesus." I whispered.

Sark looked at me. "She was KGB, just like your mother. They were the same age when they were recruited: 16. They went through training together. My mother was given an assignment a few years after Irina left. She was sent to seduce Adrian Lazarey for information."

"But she fell pregnant." I guessed.

"Yes." Sark replied. "The KGB would never let her keep the baby, so she fled and made herself a new home. When your mother found out, she helped as much as she could. It was just after that she left the KGB and became a freelancer."

"But your father found her eventually."

"And killed her. Irina promised her that she would look after me if anything happened to her." Sark continued. "Irina kept her promise and taught me what I needed to know."

I leaned back against the couch and shut my eyes. "Do you love her?" I asked.

I felt Sark give me a long look. "Yes." He whispered.

When I opened my eyes again, he was gone, just as I knew he would be. Sark had finally let someone past the defences that had kept him alive all his life. And now he was running scared. But I can't say I wasn't either. I had just shared more of my feeling with Sark that I had with anyone else in my life – even Vaughn.

I smiled where I lay. For years, Sark and I had been adversaries, enemies and, in a strange way, colleagues. We could get under each others skin so easily where others could not – and we had an uncanny way of knowing what the other was thinking. It made us one of the best teams the Covenant had – and blossomed into a kind of friendship that I never expected to have again.

Sark never spoke more than a few words for a week or so after that conversation. And then, one day, he simply came back to my apartment and thanked me. I still remember standing there completely stunned. One minute I had been alone, the next Sark was there, and then he was gone again.

We fell into a routine after that, conversations at my apartment, training at his. He taught me as much as he could. Ways to appear in control, to hide my emotions and ways to deal with what I was forced to do. I was and will forever be grateful to Julian for that. Slowly, we let each other in...sharing thoughts and feelings that we thought could never be shared.

And even more than that, during those two years, Sark had seen me at my worst. And he hadn't run. No matter what, he had always been there, whether I wanted him there or not. And he never tried to hide the truth from me. In fact, there was a time or two when he was the one that forced me to face it. It seemed almost inevitable that we would end up as lovers, but it had always been more than that.

I blinked, amazed that tears had begun to prickle in my eyes. I remember the last time I had seen Sark before my memories had been taken from me. It was on the eve of a mission and Sloane had asked me to meet him somewhere. I had agreed, hoping to get some evidence to prove he was the leader of the Covenant for the CIA to use. Sark had not been happy. He told me something was wrong, and I hadn't believed him. I should have.

You wouldn't expect it, but Sark has quite the temper under all that icy control. And when he gets angry enough with me, he tends to yell. And then I yell back. It was once hell of an argument that night – and a startling realisation as well.

"You are not going to meet Sloane." Sark snapped.

I hated it when people began to tell me what I could and couldn't do! It was just as well we were safely hidden in Sark's Rome apartment, because I was going to let that smug, arrogant bastard know it! "And what makes you think you can tell me what to do?!" I snapped right back.

"Damn it, Sydney, I not playing here!"

"Neither am I! This could give me the proof I need to get rid of Sloane, once and for all!"

"I still think it's a set up!" Sark snarled, spinning away.

"Don't you walk away!" I growled back. "What makes you so sure this is a setup?"

Sark spun, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "Because it's too easy. Sloane never makes things easy."

"And you don't think I could handle it?!" I snapped. "Damn you, Sark! I am just as good as you, and won't have you telling me I'm not – or trying to protect me because you're a man and I'm some helpless woman!"

"Bloody Hell, Sydney!" Sark yelled, grabbing me by the arm. "I'm not trying to protect you because of some sense of out-dated chivalry!"

"Let go of me." I snapped in a cold voice.

"Are you listening to a word I'm saying?"

'Yes." I said icily. "You're an arrogant bastard who won't let me find the key that will let me leave this hell!"

"This hell?" Sark echoed, his face turning expressionless. "I guess it has been."

"Oh, don't you use that distance with me, Julian Sark!" I snapped. "You know very well that I hate having to be at the beck and call of the very people I want to destroy!"

"And is that all you hate?" Sark asked, his face never changing and his tone cold and level.

I stopped and stared at him in shock. "You bastard!" I growled.

I could feel the anger beating in my blood and twisting in my stomach, eating away at my self-control. Taking a deep breath to try and suppress the urge to break his face, I spun away from Sark. "I'm going." I said.

"No you're not!" Sark growled, his hand grabbing my arm.

"Why, damn it?!"

"Because I love you!"

I stood there, completely stunned as Sark's words echoed around me. He loved me? I saw the distraught and frightened look in his eyes as he turned away and almost began running towards the door. But I was faster.

"Oh, no you don't." I said, holding the door closed before he could open it. "You don't just say that and walk off."

Sark just glared at me, his mask back in place. "Get out of my way." He said in a deadly voice.

"Not until you say it again." I replied, as deadly serious as he was.

Sark laughed, but there was no humour in it. "You're just loving this aren't you?" he asked. "Finally you have a weakness that you can exploit and use to destroy me."

"Just say it!" I growled.

I saw Sark take a shuddering breath, and he looked me dead in the eye. "I love you, Sydney." He said finally.

I closed my eyes and let the words wash over me. My skin tingled all over and I had to struggle to open my eyes and focus on keeping my tone as business-like as possible. "Good, because I love you too." I said, before crossing my arms. "But I'm still going to see Sloane."

"Damn it, Syd..." he broke off as his eyes widened. "What did you just say?"

"I'm still going to see Sloane." I repeated.

"Not that!" Sark snapped, his control finally shattering.

"I love you, Julian." I echoed in the same tone he had used.

"Don't you use that bloody tone with me." He said, before crushing his mouth to mine.

This kiss was hard, brutal and out of control. None of us could hold back. But beneath everything was the echo of our words: love. And that made my bones melt far more than the passion that was making my blood heat.

I kissed him back with as much passion, love and bruising force as he was showing me, revelling in his intoxicatingly dark taste. When I finally dragged my mouth away from his, I was breathing hard. "I have to go, Julian." I said, my voice soft and throaty.

"I know." He said. "I wish you didn't have to, but I know."

Sark rested his forehead against mine. "Just be careful, Syd." He said. "I need you to come back."

I looked up into Sark's beautiful blue eyes, that for the first time seemed to be full of love and tenderness, softening them. "I'll never forget this Julian, and I'll never leave you. I promise."

Sark opened his mouth, and I knew what he was about to ask. I put my finger to his lips. "No, not even my father or the CIA can stop me." I said.

Sark gave me a smile straight from the heart and pulled me close. "I love you, Sydney Bristow." He whispered.

"And I love you, Julian Sark." I replied.

I blinked as a single tear rolled down my cheek. I would make Sloane pay for what he did to us, that I knew. I brushed the tear away, not willing to dwell on the pain I had caused Sark by not coming back from that meeting, especially since I promised him I wouldn't leave.

But Sark would always claim that I had proved my loyalty to him the moment I killed his father. He hadn't known I'd gone to kill him, but he had known the moment I had walked back into his apartment, blood on my jacket and a haunted look in my eyes. I had killed Adrian Lazarey in cold blood because he had been planning to assassinate Sark – just like he had killed his mother. And I wasn't going to let that happen.

I sat up, suddenly feeling restless. I got to me feet and tried to ease the feeling by rolling my neck and stretching my cramped muscles. I eased life back into my limbs, but the stretches did nothing to relieve my restlessness. I have always been an active person and forced confinement always made me restless and annoyed – as did the constant questions and accusations from people I had thought of as friends.

I sighed, stifling my annoyance and frustration and poured my energy into drilling and training as much as I could in the cramped space. I was halfway through a set of push-ups when I heard it. It was not the rhythmic and controlled opening of the metal gates – the closing of one before the echoing clang of another opening. The sound echoed down the corridor as gate after gate opened, but never shut.

I got to my feet warily and turned to stare at the door to my cell. I knew that they were coming for me – and it wasn't for another round of questioning.

The door to my cell opened, revealing an armed man standing in the doorway. He wore a mask and was dressed in black from head to toe. As I watched, the man reached up and pulled off his mask, revealing a familiar, smirking face. "Hello, Syd." Sark said.

I grinned. "Hello, Julian." I greeted.

Sark passed me a gun, and I raised my eyebrow in surprise when I saw it was a tranquilizer gun, just like his. Sark shrugged slightly. "Let's go." He said.

I nodded, walking quickly to the door. Acting on impulse, I gave Sark a quick kiss on the way out. "Thanks for busting me out." I said.

"You're welcome." Sark answered.

The two of us began to run, sprinting down the corridor, gun held in front of us. I slowed down when I spotted a lithe figure waiting just inside the JTF office. Sark nodded at the woman and she took a place on my other side.

I watched Sark in slight amazement and amusement as he walked casually through the JTF office as if he had every right to do so. Taking my lead from him, I lowered my gun and did the same. We walked down towards the parking garage and I noticed the unconscious bodies of a few agents along the way.

Suddenly a voice rang out behind us. "CIA! Freeze!"

I glance at Sark from the corner of my eye and he nodded slightly. "Drop the weapons and raise your hands!" the voice continued.

I turned slowly, raising my hands slightly, the gun still in my hand. "How about: no?" I said.

"Don't do this Syd." Said a new voice. Vaughn.

He stood next to the guard, a few meters away. Both men were pointing their guns at me. I raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to shoot me, Vaughn?"

"Damn it, Syd!" Vaughn snapped. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me, Vaughn." I said coolly. "I just don't like being accused and betrayed by the people I thought would defend me."

I saw the recognition in Vaughn's eyes. "Syd..." he began, but I didn't want to listen to anymore of his excuses.

I moved quickly and felt Sark do the same beside me. I shot Vaughn with a dart and watched him crumple to the ground. I turned back towards the garage, just as several more guards arrived.

"Free..." one began to yell, but it was no use. We were too fast for them.

The woman shot two in quick succession with tranquilizer darts as Sark and I dealt with the remaining two. I had to smile though. "Yes, we are free." I said softly, in response to the guard's interrupted command.

We jogged down the corridor and burst out into the parking garage just as a dark van screeched up. "Get in!" A voice roared. It was a familiar voice too.

The three of us scrambled into the van and Sark slammed the door shut as the van roared off again. "Dad?" I asked.

"Hi, honey." He said from the wheel.

I turned to Sark, curious for some answers – like how him and my father were in the same space but weren't trying to kill each other – but stopped in amazement as the woman pulled of her mask. "Mom?" I gasped.

"Hello, sweetheart." Irina said.

Bloody hell.