Sark sat alone in the hotel room he had been renting since Sydney had decided to go through this charade with Peter Connelly. They had to convince his old mentor that there was some big rift in their relationship or there would be no more information to be extracted from him. At least that's what she had said to him as a sort of explanation.

So, no contact at all was the plan. It had sounded like a good idea when it was still a theory. Now that it was in practice it didn't seem quite as exciting or worthwhile.

He sighed and stood up to look out the window, loosening his tie. The streets were deserted during this time, not quite day and not quite night. If Sydney had been around, he would have been sleeping by now. Her calming effect was desperately missed. Without it, he had become a jittery bundle of nerves, wondering what she was doing, who she was seeing, what progress was being made, every single second of every single day.

Shaking his head, he turned and flung his body onto the bed. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when Sydney had become a staple in his life. All he knew was that it was a good thing they were going to make a permanent commitment because there was no one else for him. Fate had seen to that in the only way it could.

He shut his eyes and willed himself to remember what exactly Fate had done to shove the two of them together. His memories of the months leading up to his time with Sydney and the Covenant were still incredibly cloudy. Sydney seemed to remember all the events occurring in her life with Francie Calfo and Allison Doren. So it really confused him as to why he had erased more of his memories than Sydney had. What had occurred that had made him decide the right thing to do was get rid of so many memories? Was there something terrible that he was meaning to keep hidden?

It didn't help that there were dozens of people waiting for the day when he would finally have that Eureka moment. Too bad it wasn't coming. At least, it wasn't coming soon enough.

He thought back to his time with the Covenant and the feelings he felt as he slowly fell in love with an agent from the opposite side. His feelings were vivid in his memory, but the actual pictures of them developing were still so unclear.

The image of a small hut on a beach flashed through his mind, and he clung to it, trying to figure out why it was there. It held no significance to him that he knew, but it really seemed as if it was somewhere he had been recently. Tensing his forehead, he tried to concentrate completely on that one mental pictures.

He could see it clearly in his head, right down to the last detail. He appeared to be walking along the beach to meet someone. No one else was around, so obviously his contact had done what he had asked and made sure the meeting spot was secluded.

In the back of his head, he felt himself wondering where these thoughts were coming from. His contact? A meeting spot? He couldn't decide if this was a real memory or just a fictional account for the time he so desperately wanted to remember. It wouldn't be beyond him to start to dream of possible solutions to the predicament he was finding himself in. At this point, he would probably do anything and everything to bring Sydney back into his daily life.

Going with this whole new possible memory, he felt like he was having an out of body experience as he raised his fist in his mind and knocked softly on the hut's doorframe before entering the structure. Sark knew who was inside without even thinking.

"Hello, Peter," he felt himself say.

"Hello, Julian. You asked me to come here, so here I am."

He chuckled. "Silly man. Do you think I've forgotten the way you operate already? If I had been the one to initiate this, you would never have shown up. You don't do anything unless it's in your best interest. What I can't figure out is how my request is in your best interest and why you want me to think it was all my idea."

"It's not everyday that my star pupil who I haven't seen or heard from in years asks me to help him get a membership into one of the world's top terrorist organizations, especially the organization you specifically requested. I wanted to hear in person your reasons for this absurdly strange request."

"You told me once never to reveal my reasons."

Sark watched Peter's face spread into that all-too-familiar maniacal grin. "I know that tone, and I know that aloofness well. This is about a girl. Who is she?"

"An agent I want to keep a close eye on. Let's just leave it at that."

"An agent with the Covenant? There's no way I can leave that sly comment be. The last time I checked, you couldn't be paid to take interest in your father's organization, and now, you suddenly know about all the agents in his employ. And you want one in particular watched. She must be something special."

"To start, Connelly, this agent is as good as they come. So I guess you could say that she's pretty damn special considering. Secondly, the Covenant is not my father's organization. He has been out of the terrorism business for over a decade and is now an almighty Russian diplomat stationed in some remote African location."

"Your father still has connections."

"I could care less about his connections."

"And I could care less about discussing your father. But it seems the only way I can get information from you is by digging it out of you in a round about way. That's always been the way we've played this relationship. Why change now? So, who is the special female agent you have so much interest in? Do I know her?"

"It's complicated."

"Isn't it always?"

"She's CIA." Sark could feel himself well up with pleasure at the surprise in Connelly's eyes. It wasn't often that he could surprise the man who helped make him who he was today, but when it happened, it was good enough to last him at least a year or two.

"How did you get mixed up with the CIA?"

"They're always trying to catch me."

"And have they succeeded?"

"Only when I wanted them to. You taught me well."

"The complimenting is too obvious," Connelly pointed out. "It screams to me that you really must need my help. You want me to kill this girl before she causes you trouble."

"Sydney Bristow is always trouble."

"Sydney Bristow? I've heard that name uttered from a thousand different mouths of extremely important people. She seems to be the premier agent in this whole business. She's the one you're so interested in now?"

"Yes, she is. I've been mixed up with her for years now, and let's just say that it's time I took a more active role in her life."

"Active role as in being the man who killed her?"

"Her death will cause me more trouble than it's worth. I need to keep her alive."

"I will think about," Connelly said. His gaze shifted to the door. "You know your way out, Julian."

"You're calling this meeting to a close so soon? Don't you want to know what I've been up to? You were always one for specifics."

"I already know what you've been doing with your time on this earth. It might be news to you, but you have been leading a high profile life for the past year, Julian. Every spy knows about what you've been doing lately."

"Are you telling me to tone it down?"

"I'm telling you that it couldn't hurt to brush up on the spy basics. You don't want people to know your plans until they've been completed and a few months have passed. Otherwise, there's a traceable trail left behind."

"I know what I'm doing, old man," Sark said, making his way to the door. "Let me know what you think about the deal by tomorrow."

Sark could feel himself leave the room, but for some reason, he could still see Connelly sitting at the table. He must have stopped to listen to Connelly's reactions to his demands. For a second, he wondered when he had decided this "memory" was really the truth. Maybe it was the realistic feel or something inside of him was remembering. Whatever it was, this felt incredibly real.

Sark snapped out of his thoughts as he heard his old mentor finish counting to thirty under his breath, and he could imagine Connelly pulling the cell phone out of his pocket. It was the same old protocol he had been taught by the man years earlier. A necessary precaution when one did not want to be overheard. At least a thirty second buffer must be used.

"This is Connelly. I think Sark can be used to our advantage. He's infatuated with this CIA Agent that the Covenant has in their employ. Yeah. Sydney Bristow. How did you know? She's really that important to you? Well, here's what I'm proposing. I tell him that I'm going to help him keep her alive because for whatever reason that's what he wants right now. I gain his trust slowly over the course of a few years. I know it's a long period of time, but usually the best of plans take a long time to come to fruition. The Julian I know won't be able to know a woman that long without wanting to get her into his bed. It will kill him to have to keep his hands off her. Yes, he really is that stupid. Once he does get his hands on her somehow, once he really starts to care about her being safe and alive, we kill the girl. We need to destroy every inch of his life if he's going to come back to work for me."

Sark shot up with a start. He was still lying on the bed in his hotel room, only it was now seven in the morning. He had fallen asleep. "Hell of a dream," he muttered.

The events that had run through his head came flashing back, and he let himself analyze them for a moment. He wouldn't doubt if Connelly had been trying to con him into returning to his organization. That made sense.

It all sounded too easy, though. He wished he could call Sydney and run this new potential memory by her. Maybe she would have a clue about whether it was fact or fiction. At this point, he just didn't know. Plus, Sydney would know what the next step should be.

"You're on your own," he told himself. "Time to stop relying on Sydney for knowing the correct thing to do. If you want her to marry you when it comes time, you're going to have to learn to be able to judge for yourself."

Throwing the covers back, he slipped out of bed and began to get dressed. He had a few things to work out before he could come up with who he should be talking to about this new development.


Sydney stared at Dixon from across the briefing room table. She had just dropped the whole engagement bomb on him and was waiting to see his reactions.

"What day is it?" he finally asked.

"March 15th."

"Oh. For a moment there I really thought it might be April 1st." Dixon sighed and rubbed his temples with his fingertips. "Could you please explain to me again why this is a joke you felt appropriate to try out on me at this time?"

"It's not a joke, Marcus. I'm engaged to Sark, and I plan on marrying him as soon as we both have a free moment to breath. I felt like I should tell you."

"Well, I'm glad that you felt that obligation. It gives me time to talk you out of making this mistake."

"It's not a mistake. I've thought about it a lot, and it might actually be the smartest thing I've ever done." She held her hand up to stop him before he could even begin to argue. "I've come to depend on Sark. He brings out the best in me, and I know he's been trying to change his less than perfect ways for me. That says a lot about the kind of man he is."

"The kind who can fool you into thinking he's the kind that can change?"

"The kind that really is willing to change the things that might keep us apart." Sydney stood up from the table. "I just wanted to let you know so that when the rumor mill started buzzing, you would know the truth."

Dixon nodded. "Thank you for that, even though it isn't much."

"You will learn to accept it someday," she said softly as she backed her way to the door. "You're going to have to."

"Give me time."

"We're friends, Marcus. We always will be. I want you to understand where I'm coming with this, and you want you to eventually accept my decision. I'll wait as long as you need me to. You have all the time in the world." She nodded slightly and left the briefing room. All in all, that had gone better than she expected. She made it out of the meeting with her job still intact, so it worked out nicely.

Sighing, she grabbed her phone, wishing for the millionth time that day that she could call Sark. It would make his day to know that she had finally told all her friends about their engagement. The secretness of it had been getting to him more and more each day. For a man who lived the life of a spy, he really did hate keeping his personal life a secret.

Mostly she just attributed the impatience to his wanting to get married as soon as possible. She knew that because the same impatience was inside of her, struggling to get free.

The phone on her desk rang loudly. "Bristow."

"Ah. Agent Bristow. How is the CIA life treating you?"

"How did you get this number, Connelly?" she hissed, scanning the room to see if anyone was paying her any attention. This was her private line and a number that wasn't handed out idly.

"I am as resourceful as they come. I want another meeting with you, Sydney."

"Are you ready to let me know more information?"

"I think you're ready to hear it now. Haven't been crying yourself to sleep lately, have you?"

Knowing that, even if he wasn't away of it, that comment hit close to home, the harshness of her mood came out in the tone of her voice. "You are a complete bastard."

"But I'm a bastard you will meet at the Carousel in the park down the street from your offices."

"As long as you have information I want, I'll show up."

"Good." Connelly hung up before Sydney could try to fish any more information out of him.

For the millionth and one time that day, she wished she could call Sark and ask him what she was supposed to do.