Part Fifteen:

Fifteen minutes later, I stood in the middle of the training room dressed in sweats and sparring pads. After all, I didn't want to hurt Sark too bad. Challenge sparking in his eyes, Sark stood opposite me, similarly dressed and padded. I had smiled in amusement when I saw that even Sark's sweats were black. I must say, he really did seem to like the colour.

I, myself, was dressed in grey sweat pants and a white singlet. And, for some weird reason, I was wishing I was dressed in all black too. I think Sark's taste in clothes must be getting to me. Shrugging it off, I raised an eyebrow. "Rules?"

Sark considered it for a minute. "No broken bones and the first one thrown to the mat looses." He said.

"That's fine with me." I replied. "Ready?"

"Ready." Sark confirmed.

And then the fight was on. Sark began circling, surprisingly cautious, but there was a gleam in his eye that I didn't trust. He was up to something. I began to move, too, keeping Sark just beyond kicking range, my mind calculating weaknesses and formulating strategy. I was going to need every advantage I could get.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, calming my mind and readying my muscles. Focusing, I smiled as I moved, anticipation and adrenaline flooding through my body. Finally, I growled, running out of patience. Sark had always been more patient than me.

I snapped out a roundhouse kick, aiming for Sark's head and knowing he would block it. He did, retaliating with a punch kick combination. I dodged and blocked, punching him in return. Attack. Block. Attack again. This went on for a few minutes, Sark and I both evenly matched. But then we always had been.

Feeling myself becoming tired, and wanting to knock that smirk off Sark's face, I increased the intensity. Sark met me blow for blow. My breath came out in pants and I felt sweat trailing stickily down my back. Growling, I struck out in a series of frenzied blows, the adrenaline riding through me.

Sark blocked, but there was a fraction of hesitation after my last blow, almost as if Sark was catching his breath. I felt a smile curve my lips as I used it. I feigned another punch and spun, hooking my foot behind Sark's leg. Twisting my body to the left, I gave his shoulder a sharp push and Sark went down with a thud. He lay there panting for a moment, before shooting me a look.

"I win." I said simply, trying to catch my breath.

"This time." Sark added, as I reached down to help him up.

I heard a low chuckle behind me and turned, finding a tall blonde standing just inside the training room. She was dressed from head to toe in black, and there was an amused smile on her face. "You must be the infamous Sydney." She said, in an English accent.

I raised an eyebrow in slight challenge, trying to resist the urge to immediately go on the defensive. "I am." I said levelly. "How did you know?"

The smile turned into a grin. "Well, for one thing, you made it deceptively easy to beat Julian." She told me. "And, for another, anyone who can knock him off his feet must be the same woman responsible for making him turn into Mr. Grumpy and start muttering 'Bloody Sydney!'."

I gave a small laugh of surprise. "He really said that?"

"More than once." The woman walked forward, and held out a hand to me. "I'm Charlie."

I took her outstretched hand. "Nice to meet you."

Charlie shifted her gaze to where Sark was standing just behind me. "And you can stop glaring at me, Julian." She said, with a teasing note to her voice.

"I suppose you have a reason for interrupting?" he said coldly.

"Of course." Charlie said, seemingly unaffected by Sark's cold tone. "I thought you might like to know that Irina and Agent Bristow will be landing in Galway in an hour."

"Fine." Sark said. "Tell Andrew to meet them at the airport."

"Already done." Charlie replied.

I had to say I was curious about the woman in front of me. Charlie seemed very confidant and not really intimidated by Sark's coldness. "What exactly do you do?" I asked her.

"I'm what you could call Julian's...assistant. I handle all the mundane things and sort of keep things running when he and Irina are away on business."

"I see." I smiled slightly at her.

She grinned again, winking at me. "Well, I can tell when I've outstayed my welcome. It was nice to finally meet you Sydney."

Silently, I watched her turn and leave. As soon as she had left the room, I turned to Sark. "You trust her, don't you?"

Sark smiled. "Yes. Despite all the irritation she causes me. She's my half-sister."

I gaped at Sark. "Your sister?!" I asked. That was one thing I hadn't known.

"Yes." Sark said, walking forward. "I'd hoped to introduce you tomorrow, but it seemed as always, Charlie had other ideas."

Sark reached up and stroked my cheek. "I hope you understand that I wanted to give you a day or two to adjust to everything that's happened before I showed you just what Irina and I do – part of which is my sister."

"She works as an agent, then?" I asked.

"Whenever she can." Sark grinned. "She's not quite as good as you, but she's well on her way."

I nodded and smiled at Sark. "So I see."

Sark rolled his shoulders and turned away to grab a water bottle. He tossed a second one at me, which I quickly caught. I took a long drink of cool water, before wiping some of the sweat from my face with the back of my hand.

I walked towards the other side of the room, putting the bottle back on the bench from where Sark had grabbed it. Turning back to face him, I raised an eyebrow when I saw him taking off his singlet. Unable to help myself, my eyes slid over his muscular chest and arms, his skin gleaming faintly with sweat.

Sark grinned at me. "Best of three?" he asked.

I laughed. "If you want to get beaten again...sure."

Then, suddenly feeling mischievous and wanting to even the odds a little in the distraction department, I also took off my singlet, revealing the practical sports bra underneath. Tossing the top away, I arched an eyebrow. "Shall we?" I asked.

I saw Sark's eyes cloud slightly as their colour deepened. My skin tingled as his eyes trailed hotly over my bared flesh. I shivered slightly at the hunger in his eyes and not from fear. Sark's eyes returned to stare into mine. "Yes, let's."

I felt my blood begin to quicken in my veins at the implied innuendo. Suddenly, the room was thick with tension and our fight had turned into something far more than a simple contest. Primal hunger glittered in Sark's eyes, heating my blood in response. I could feel myself rising to the challenge and my lips curved into a feral smile.

We began circling each other, out movements tightly controlled and suppressed violence hovering beneath the surface. This time it was Sark who attacked first, his patience slipping. His movements were fast and furious, yet strangely fluid at the same time. I matched his speed and grace, anticipating his moves before he made them.

He snapped out a front kick, aiming for my stomach. I blocked quickly, pivoting out the way and lashing out with a backfist. Sark blocked it, less than an inch from his face. He shot me a smirk as I spun again, stepping backwards slightly. "You're not pulling your punches, Sydney." He taunted.

"No." I agreed.

His smirk widened. "Good, because neither am I."

I sent a roundhouse towards his head, my foot whipping out. He blocked, spinning as he did so. I leapt up as his foot snaked out, trying to sweep my feet out from under me. Using his momentum, Sark lashed out again in a fluid movement, catching me in the chest as my feet touched the mat. I staggered backwards, just keeping my balance.

But my guard had dropped for a second, and it was all Sark needed. His body slammed into mine, my feet swept out from under me and I crashed to the mat. Realising what was happening and unable to avoid it, I grabbed hold of Sarks arms, pulling him with me.

He landed on top of me, driving the air from my lungs. He looked at me, his chest pressed against mine. I could feel the heat radiating from him and his bare skin burned mine. Sark grabbed my hands and forced them to the mat beside me, trapping me at the same time with his legs and hips.

"It seems I win this time." He said.

My breath was still a little faster than normal, although if that was from the exercise or having Sark lying on top of me, I wasn't sure. Trying to get free, I bucked my hips and wriggled in his grip. In response, Sark eyes deepened to a dark, stormy blue. "There's a first time for everything." I told him.

Sark's mouth crashed down onto mine hungrily, just as I arched upwards, meeting his lips with my own. There was nothing gentle about the kiss, just pure, wild passion. His tongue battled mine, just as we had done moments before. My blood surged hotly through my body, just as my mind cried out more!

I bit Sark's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood just as I felt his grip loosen. I bucked and twisted beneath him, slamming him backwards. Suddenly our roles were reversed as it was Sark pressed into the mat and me straddling him. I sat there for a minute, looking at him, my chest heaving.

Then I bent forward and, with my eyes still on his, began to kiss the large curving scar at the bottom of his rib cage. He gave a deep groan as my tongue began to trace along it, his back slightly arching. His skin felt so good beneath my lips, and I trailed kisses all over his torso, re-learning every muscle, every curve, every scar.

Sark's hands fisted roughly in my hair, dragging my mouth back to his. His hands then trailed down my body, leaving trails of fire wherever they went. I felt Sark's erection beneath my hips and I wriggled experimentally. He gave a low, guttural groan and his hands tightened on my waist. I groaned myself as he pressed his hips towards mine.

His hands moved up to cup my breasts, the sudden heat making me gasp. I broke away, pulling back slightly. "Sark..." My voice came out in a dry rasp, and I swallowed. "Maybe we should move this to another room."

His eyes were hot as they looked at me. I had to bite my lip to stop leaning down and kissing him again, privacy be damned. "That is," I added. "If you want to finish what we've started."

Sark smirked. "What do you think?" he asked, somewhat sarcastically.

I smirked straight back at him. "I'm thinking of lots of things right now." I said. Like removing all our clothes.

We rolled easily to our feet, our movements rigidly controlled, as if a slight movement could trigger our control to break. And, considering the way I felt right now, it very well could. I looked at Sark out of the corner of my eye and had to resist the urge to slam him against the wall and rip the rest of his clothes off.

How we made it upstairs, I don't know. But suddenly I was being yanked into a room and the door slammed behind me. Sark crushed me up against the door, his mouth hard and brutal against mine. I revelled in the intense passion and lack of control we both felt. I shoved Sark backwards, barely registering this wasn't even my room, and onto the large bed.

I landed on top of him, my body pressed against his hard one. I groaned into his mouth. I ran my hands up and down his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the hot skin. Sark flipped me over in a quick move, pressing me into the mattress with his weight. My hands never stopped moving over every inch of him I could find...chest, shoulders, arms, butt...

And then suddenly my bra was yanked off and I felt the shocking sensation of Sark's mouth on my breast. I arched my back, wanting to get closer and lost myself in a haze of sensation. I didn't realise when Sark removed the rest of our clothes, or the moment his icy control finally shattered. All I knew was the feel of his hands and his mouth on me, making my insane and want to scream.

When I could stand it no longer, I fisted my hands in Sark's hair and roughly dragged him up to my face. "Now, Sark." I demanded, and kissed him.

I almost did scream when Sark thrust into me, fiery sensations filling me as he did. Sark broke away, breathing hard, and stared into my eyes. And thrust again. I buried my face into the crook of Sark's neck, biting down on flesh as the sensation rolled over me. I heard his gasp and moan when I did. And then I forgot to do anything but feel...until everything exploded around me and I did finally scream.

I slowly floated back down the Earth, gradually becoming aware of my surroundings. Sark had moved over slightly, so he wasn't crushing me. I shifted slightly, trying to get closer to him, but my body wouldn't move.

Sark looked at me out of the corner of his eye, which appeared to be the only movement he was capable of. "Bloody hell." Was all he said.

I laughed softly. "You could say that."

After a long minute, I finally worked up enough energy to crawl over to curl against Sark. He gently pulled up a blanket to cover us, since it was clear we wouldn't be moving in a while. I gazed about the room, or at least the portion I could see. It was tastefully decorated in muted browns and whites, with a large desk against one wall.

I raised my head, my hair cascading over my face. I uselessly tried to push it out the way with one hand, but it didn't want to cooperate. "So," I said, looking at Sark. "This is your room, huh?"

Sark opened his eyes and looked around. "Yes." He said.

I laughed. "You weren't sure!" I said.

He smiled softly. "No, I wasn't. You seem to have an incredible knack of destroying my concentration, Bristow."

I grinned at him. "Good. It's only fair."

"Do I distract you, Sydney?"

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You already know the answer to that. But, yes, you do."

Sark reached up and pushed some of my tousled hair out of my face. He said nothing, but there was a tender look on his face that melted my heart. My eyes travelled over his face, memorising every inch of it, imprinting it on my memory so I would always remember it. As I did, my eye caught the bite mark I had left on Sark's shoulder.

I reached out and trailed a fingertip over it lightly. "Sorry." I said.

"Don't be." Sark said. "I like it."

I arched an eyebrow and looked at Sark. "It's very possessive." He added.

"Well, I feel rather possessive." I said, snuggling back down against Sark.

His arms tightened around me in response, as did mine. I don't care what the consequences are, but I am not letting Julian Sark go. If that means I will never be able to go back to my old life, then fine. I'll accept that, while it may hurt. But it would hurt far worse to never be able to hold or kiss Sark again.

Suddenly, I looked up again and grinned mischievously at Sark. "I can give you another, if you'd like."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. Really."

By the time my parents arrived, Sark and I were once again dressed and able to act professionally. Although, I don't think we fooled Shannon or Andrew. At least I hadn't seen Sark's sister again. I had the feeling she didn't miss much, and I wasn't quite sure how I felt about her – yet.

Irina strolled in the door, acting as if she owned the place. Come to think of it, I'm not sure she didn't. Dad followed a few steps behind her, with Andrew bringing in the bags. "Julian." Irina said immediately. "I need to talk to you."

Sark shot me a look, before turning to Irina, amused. "Oh?" he said blandly. "What about?"

"Come." Irina said briskly, and began walking through the house.

I fell into step behind them and beside my father. We shared a look, knowing that we were just following them so we didn't miss out on the action. I knew in my gut, that if we left Sarkand Irina alone then plans would be made without us.

"How are you feeling, Sydney?" my Dad asked.

"Pretty good, considering." I told him. "I can't say that I liked the CIA locking me up like a criminal, but I understand why they did. And I wouldn't trade the reason for all the world."

"I didn't think you would." Dad said.

I looked at him in surprise. "That's what's, well, freaking me out Dad." I said. "Why aren't you trying to arrest or kill Sark...or Mom?"

My dad returned my gaze steadily for a moment. "Sydney, do you remember when I told you Michael Vaughn was never good enough for you?" he asked.

I nodded. It had been the first time I had seen my father since waking up – even if it was through prison glass. Those words had haunted me for days.

"Well, despite his seemingly questionable morals, Sark is a man, rather than a boy in a man's world." My father told me.

"Questionable morals were your only problem with him?" my voice was tinged with surprise and amusement.

My father nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he wanted to smile. "Believe it or not, yes. He is a strong, capable man who will you like a princess. As a father, that's good enough for me not to kill him." He said. "Although, if you tell him that, I'll have to shoot you."

I laughed softly. "Don't worry, he won't hear it from me."

Finally, I released the breath I didn't even realise I was holding. Tension seemed to flood from my body. I hadn't realised it before, but I had been almost scared of my father's reaction to my relationship with Sark. To know that he approved, as much as a father could, was more than a relief to me. Impulsively, I leaned over a kissed him on the cheek. "I'm glad you're here, dad." I said.

My father looked surprised at the sudden display of affection, but nodded at me. "There's nothing more important to me, than you, Sydney." He told me.

We lapsed into silence for a moment, and I wondered where Irina and Sark were leading us. We were headed up stairs, but away from the bedrooms. I looked at the two of them, their heads bowed together as they talked in hushed tones. They were up to something, I just knew it.

I shot a glance at my father out of the corner of my eye. "So, what's up with you and mom?" I asked, deceptively casual.

"Up to?" my father replied. "Nothing. We were merely concerned about our daughter."

"Yeah, sure, Dad." I said. "Is that why you haven't taken her into custody yet?"

My father opened his mouth, before shutting it again. "It didn't seem fair to do that." He said finally.

I smiled, but said nothing. I had to say I was sceptical of that, but I let dad think I believed him. There had been a time in the past where dad would have done anything to bring Irina Derevko in, but not anymore, it seemed. I just hoped he didn't get hurt again. She might have loved me and been my mother, but that didn't mean I fully trusted Irina Derevko – especially around my father.

"Just be careful, okay?" I said.

My father shot me an amused glance. "Aren't I the one who's supposed to say that?"

I didn't reply, as we had just reached a rather large room that looked as if it had once been a library. There was a large desk in the middle of the room, and two stuffed armchairs over by the empty fireplace. Books lined the walls and there was an expensive looking computer system in the corner. Maps littered the remaining wall space and desk.

I moved into the room and came to stand near Sark and mom. "So, what is it?" I asked, getting straight to the point.

Sark looked pointedly at Irina, as if telling her to tell me what was going on. She nodded slightly at him. "I have some new information that affects you, Sydney." She said carefully. She glanced at Sark. "Where is your sister?"

"Sister?" At Irina's question, my dad looked surprised.

"Yes, it appears Julian has a half-sister." I said, my tone amused. "Her name's Charlie."

"That it is." Said a voice from behind me.

Charlie walked into the room, still dressed in her black outfit. It must be genetic or something. She nodded at Sark and Irina. "Welcome back Irina." She said.

Then she turned to my father. "And you must be the infamous Jack Bristow." She said.

"I am." Dad said flatly, not offering anything.

"Charlene Reilly." She said, offering her hand. "Julian and I share the same mother."

My father took her hand and gave it a shake, but there was wariness still in his eyes. I couldn't say I blamed him. No one knew anything about this woman, other than both Sark and Irina trusted her. "And your father?"

"Tomas Reilly." She said. "Businessman, not spy. He knew nothing of this life, or that his wife was ex-KGB. He died when I was 16."

"Now that introductions have been made, shall we get back to the matter at hand?" Sark asked mildly.

"And that is?" I asked.

Irina gestured for everyone to take a seat at the table. We did, and it was only after we were seated that my mother began to explain. "I have recently found out some more information about Sydney." She said. "Or more specifically, the prophecy."

"The prophecy." I said. "You don't still believe that it's true, do you?"

"I have no reason to believe it's false." Irina said. "But regardless of that, there are many in this world who do believe it is true." She paused for a second before continuing. "My sources tell me that Sloane has begun to put together another of Rambaldi's devices."

"What does it do?" Charlie asked.

"I think it's the big one." Irina said. "His greatest work."

"This woman here depicted will posses unseen marks. Signs that she will be the one to bring forth my works. Bind them with fury, a burning anger that unless prevented, at vulgar cost this woman will render the greatest power into utter desolation." I recited.

Those words had had such an impact on my life, I think they were tattooed on my brain. I looked at anguish at Sark. "And I help him build it." I added softly. "That was what I was doing with the Covenant."

Sark leaned over and took my hand. "You couldn't have known, Syd." He said.

"It doesn't matter how Sloane got the pieces of the device." Irina said. "He would have gotten them anyway. What matters is what it does."

"And what is that?" my father asked levelly.

"I believe it is a device that with grant the user all the knowledge of Rambaldi." Irina said.

"Rambaldi's knowledge?" I asked. "How is that possible?"

Irina smiled, but is without humour. "I believe Sloane is going to..."download" it into his own mind."

Shit. Just what the world needed: Sloane with the knowledge of Rambaldi in his head.