It was going on three hours Sydney had been laying in bed staring at the wall. She could hear the soft breathing of Vaughn beside her. He didn't have any trouble falling asleep it seemed. That was probably because he really didn't know what had gone on earlier that day with Sark.

She had meant to tell him every single thing about her run-in with Sark the second she got home. In fact, she had been looking forward to telling him all in day in hopes that he could give her a definite answer as to what was going on. But after sitting at her desk trying to figure out why Marshall might be lying to her and then being caught in traffic for over an hour, she was jut too tired.

Vaughn didn't help either. There used to be a time when he just intuitively knew that she was upset about something. That time was way before she had gone missing or he had gotten married. Since they picked up where they left off, things were different. He might not see it, but she did.

She hadn't expected things to be the exact same. They were both different people from who they were three years before. She had gained a sister, and he had gained a failed marriage. They were still in the reacquainting stages.

Which was why she found herself hesitant to wake him up and tell him about the things that were keeping her from sleeping.

The hesitancy was partially because she knew she shouldn't be bothered by what had gone on. The rational part of her brain was telling her that these "memories" were just another evil plot by the Covenant or any of her other numerous enemies. Hell, they might be something that her father set up to make her stronger. She wouldn't put anything past him anymore.

She sighed and slid out of bed without a sound. Her spy skills came in handy at the oddest times. Grabbing a pair of pants out of a drawer and sliding them on, she walked out of the bedroom.

Her apartment was just the same as when she had left it earlier that morning to try to track down Sark. But for some reason, she felt unnerved by its very existence. She thought Vaughn would have suggested by now that they might look into finding a place to live together. It was frustrating, feeling like she was the only one wanting to move this relationship forward past where they had once been. It seemed like all he wanted was the same Sydney to comfort him as he worked through his problems.

"God, that sounded bitter," she mumbled to herself as she walked into the kitchen. "Do I really feel like that?"

She thought for a moment. Yes, she was a little bitter that things were not as magically happy as she had always imagined they would be when she and Vaughn received their second chance. But that's no reason to be mad at him. Anyone could have told her that it would take time to get the familiarity back. Things weren't going to be perfect off the bat.

Throwing those thoughts to the back of her head, she got a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. After jumping up onto the counter, she chanced a glance out of the window. It was a relatively calm night. She could see the stars clearly in the sky. It looked peaceful.

"Doesn't match what I'm feeling at all," she mumbled. She looked down at the glass of water in disgust, realizing she had never really wanted it. Setting the untouched glass of water on the counter beside her, she slid off onto the ground.

The feeling of restlessness would not go away no matter how hard she tried. Usually she had to deal with something similar to this after every mission. She always went home too energized and full of adrenaline to just shift back into her "normal" life without a thought. Usually turning on a movie and trying to push all the thoughts out of her head helped her calm down.

This time, she had a feeling that the thoughts racing through her brain wouldn't allow themselves to be pushed to the back. This whole situation with Sark and their new, mutual memories wasn't something she was prepared to handle. Not when her life was so fragile and delicate.

Grabbing her denim jacket off of the hook by the door, she let herself out of the house just as quietly as she had slid out of bed. If she played her cards right, Vaughn wouldn't even know she had left him for a while. Then, she wouldn't have to explain why she hadn't been able to tell him what was happening.

It was funny how all she wanted to do now was keep the day's events from him. First she wanted to tell him everything, and now she wanted to relive none of it. She just wanted to file it away as another crazy occurrence in her life and never think of it again. Then again, if that wish were ever granted, if all the crazy occurrences in her life were filed away where she didn't have to remember them, she wouldn't have much of a life left to recall.

The street was deserted as she walked down it. "It's three o'clock in the morning, Sydney," she said to herself. "Of course there's no one around."

She kicked a stone lightly along the sidewalk as her mind drifted back to Sark. She couldn't place her finger on why these "memories" made her so jittery. They couldn't be true. That was just ridiculous. So then why was she so unnerved by them?

Frustrated, she kicked the rock a little too hard and it went sliding into the street. "Damn."

There was a small noise from the wooded area on her left. Acting on instinct, she crouched down behind a bush and watched as a young couple emerged from the trees. They were laughing and talking about what seemed to be nothing in particular. It reminded Sydney of the way she and Vaughn used to act when they found time to be together outside of the workplace.

"It doesn't remind me of Vaughn and I anymore," she mumbled standing up, daring the people to catch sight of her. The bitterness had returned, and she could care less if her presence ruined the romantic moment for these people.

She began to walk across the street. She had only made it a few paces into the road before she screeched to a halt as a particularly unwelcome thought formed in her head. The way that happy couple was acting had stirred her up because it reminded her of... Sark?!?

"Where did that come from?" she wondered, starting to cross the street again. Connecting such a happy scene to Sark made no sense. The only encounters she had had with him involved bitterness and anger. And guns. She couldn't forget the guns.

There was no happiness in sight during those confrontations. Except for maybe his glee at the few times he had bested her. But those instances were few and far between.

It was at that moment that she understood why her newfound "memories" were unnerving her so. In each and every one of them, she had been blissfully happy. And instinctively, she knew that happiness came not from herself but the fact that she was with Sark.

At one time, he had made her happy.

"That's it," she said balling her hands into fists in anger at the ridiculous thoughts in her head. "I am going to get to the bottom of this."

She began walking with a purpose. Although, in all honesty, she really didn't know where she was going. She had no clue where to begin figuring out what these memories meant. But for some reason, walking as far away from her house as she could go seemed like the right solution for the moment. She hated the fact that running away from her problems seemed to be the only solution worthy of being tried.

After thirty blocks and no new revelations, she felt her anger boil up again. "God damnit, Sark!" she screamed. "What the hell did you do to me?"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I didn't do anything to you, Sydney?" said a voice to her right.

Sydney turned and stared at the man in question. "What the hell is he doing here so conveniently?" she thought to herself.

After adjusting to the sight of him for a moment, she decided that she couldn't believe that he was actually just standing calmly in front of her. It was infuriating how he always seemed to do this to her. Pop up when she both least and most wanted to see him.

Reaching into the pocket of her jacket nonchalantly, she cursed herself when she felt it was empty. "What a night to leave your gun at home, Bristow!" she yelled at herself.

Prepared to accept that shooting Sark was not a current option, she decided that she would just try to get some information out of him. That way whatever was about to happen wouldn't be useless to her. Voicing the thoughts that had previously run through her head, she asked, "What the hell are you doing here? When I lost you in Spain, I thought you'd be miles and miles away from Los Angeles by now. That's what a rational person would do, you know. Go into hiding."

"I didn't have anywhere else to go. And for some reason, I had a pretty sure feeling that the CIA wouldn't be making any more attempts to find me any time soon, banking on the fact that you didn't tell them about the strange occurrence that happened to us in Pamplona."

She looked at him suspiciously. "How did you know I wouldn't tell?"

"The same reason that I didn't tell any of my contacts. It's still too new and strange. People will think we're crazy if we start spouting off about fake memories and potential brainwashing. Especially ones that involve us willingly spending time with one another. It just doesn't make sense."

Grasping the full situation she had stumbled into, she glared at him. "Do you realize how pathetic this makes you look?" When he gave her a confused look, she tried to elaborate. "I mean, don't you have something better to do than follow me around like a lost little puppy that has no home?"

Sark gave her a funny look and motioned down at the ground. Sydney looked at where he pointed and noticed a leash in his hand connected to a small Scottish Terrier who happened to be peeing on a nearby lamp post. "I was walking my dog," he stated simply in case she couldn't put two and two together.

The only thing she could think of to say was "You have a dog?"

"I am a person. I do like animals," he said defensively.

Sydney managed to pull herself together. "I always pictured you as the animal torturing kind of guy, not a pet lover."

"I don't love all pets," he said indignantly. "Just Killer here."

"You named your dog Killer?"

"I thought it was ironic," he mumbled, picking the dog up into his arms. "So what brings you to my front doorstep at this inappropriately early hour, Sydney Bristow?"

"Your doorstep?"

"You know you really have to stop repeating my words back to me as a question. It's a nasty habit." He took a deep breath and pointed behind him. "This is my house. I live there. You're standing in my front lawn. I was just wondering why you made you way to here at three o'clock in the morning. Business hours are over, you know."

"You have a house?"

"Do you think I live in a hotel room or something? That I live my life day to day keeping all my ties to any sort of normal life to a minimum? That is such stereotypical thinking, Sydney. I wouldn't have guessed you would be one of those people." He sighed. "Contrary to popular belief, men like me do have houses they go home to. Not with wives and kids waiting for them, but houses none the less. I bought this one a few months ago when I realized my work would keep me close to Los Angeles. Plus, I didn't want to be too far from the woman I was sleeping with."

"Lauren Reed." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Michael Vaughn told you, did he? No secrets between you two."

Her mind immediately jumped to the fact that Vaughn didn't know she had left the house. And he didn't know what had gone on between her and Sark in Spain.

When the tension got too great and she broke eye contact, he smiled wickedly. "Or is there?"

After a moment of awkward silence, he asked, "Why are you here again?" She didn't respond, causing him to groan, and he began walking back towards his front door. "I bet you're going to chalk this whole encounter up to my freaky mind control," he called over his shoulder.

"About that mind control?" Sydney said as she cut him off from escaping into the house. "Is that really what's causing this?"

He narrowed his eyes and studied her intently. "This whole thing has really shook you up, hasn't it? You just don't know what to do with yourself anymore."

"Don't flatter yourself, Sark."

"You can't hide the fact that you've been thrown off a little. Not used to the excitement, it seems. Isn't Michael Vaughn enough for you anymore?"

She slapped him hard. "Don't you ever talk about him, Sark."

Sark reached his free hand up and rubbed his chin. "You've got a good slap on you, Bristow. Lots of men must have deserved one of those over the years for you to get so proficient at it."

Sydney was the one staring at him now intently. "I just want to know what's happening."

Sark sighed and set his dog back down on the ground. He motioned for her to have a seat next to him on the front steps of his house. "Honestly, this whole situation between the two of us has gotten so abnormal in the past twenty-four hours. My gut instinct is telling me that I should kill you now while you seem vulnerable." Sydney inched away from him slightly. "I'm not going to kill you, Bristow. So just settle down. For starters, just like you, I've left my gun in the house."

They sat in silence shoulder to shoulder for a few minutes. Sark was playing with Killer, making him turn around in circles to try to catch his tail, while Sydney just ran her fingers across the pavement, making them tingle like she used to do when she was little. "This is surreal," she muttered.

"Tell me about it," Sark responded. He stopped teasing the dog and placed his hands on his knees.

They returned to silence for a moment until Sydney broke it again. "What are you going to do with me then if you're not planning on killing me? I mean, I know the location of your secret lair," she joked.

"Maybe I'll just have to tweak the mind control thing a little bit." He was happy to see the side of her mouth turn up slightly into what he could only hope was a smile. "But honestly, I'm just as confused as you are. I can't figure out how it would be possible for you and I to remember the exact same things at the exact same times. And you know what the strangest thing of all is?"

"What?" Sydney asked, genuinely interested in hearing the answer.

"These memories, I can just tell that whatever they are, whether they're real or fake, they make me happy. If they were real, then I was happy with you once. And I don't think I can ever remember a time I was happy with my life." He paused. "Well, I guess these new memories mean that I do remember a happy time. But before now, I couldn't recall one."

"Oh come on," she said shaking her head. "You can't tell me that you have never been happy. Every little kid has moments of happiness when they're growing up."

"You don't understand, Sydney. I grew up not at home with my parents but in a number of different British boarding schools. Ironically enough, I was practically raised completely by a group of nuns. I thought Sister Mary Catherine was my mother up until I was six. At school, if I was lucky and I wished hard enough, I might get to see my father for every other Christmas. I was always the boy left alone at the dormitory for holidays. Which branded me as too strange to befriend." Realizing how odd his little confession was in the current situation, he shot a look at Sydney and tried to cover his emotional tracks. "But that didn't really effect me."

"Right," she said, unbelieving. They sat in silence for a moment before she added, "But you turned out relatively okay, I guess."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you have that whole cool mysterious murderer thing going for you. It has its own kind of charm to it."

Sark bent down and petted his dog lightly on the head. "Yeah, I guess it does." He stood up and made a move to go into the house. "I want you to know something." She looked up at him. "We're enemies. I think that's something at least that we can count on."

"Sure," she said with a small shrug.

"Regardless, something's shaken you up pretty bad. I can tell." He sighed. "This is going to seem strange. But you can come to me if you need me. If you get shaken up again or anything."

She just looked at him in shock. This was not the type of thing she thought Sark would say to her. In fact, nothing that had happened in the past twenty-four hours seemed characteristic of him. It was at that moment that she realized this situation might be unnerving him just as much as it was unnerving her. "I understand," she said softly.

"Listen, Sydney. I know that one day down the road, probably soon, the CIA is going to send you out to find me again. It's what we do, right? The whole running and chasing thing." She nodded. "I just wanted to tell you that you shouldn't let whatever these things in our head and whatever conversations we've had keep you from doing your job."

"Are you giving me permission to kill you?" she said, a surprised look on her face.

"Like you ever could," he said with a wink before shutting the door.

Sydney smiled to herself as she heard Killer yapping inside the house. She was stunned to realize that she wasn't so unnerved anymore. Talking with him had helped her get a handle on the thoughts and "memories" running through her head.

"Weird," she muttered for the second time that day. With a sigh, she stood up and began to make her way back home to where Vaughn was still waiting for her, asleep in her bed.