Ch.3 Losing my resistance
o-o-o
"Julian?"
Sydney felt a cold chill run down her spine when she heard the name that was called out by someone's voice. But, what she heard was Julia, not Julian. She turned to look at Sark's, but he had gone to the direction of the elderly caller. She used her eavesdropping skills to listen in to the conversation Sark was having. Privacy was no longer an issue between the two of them. But all she heard was the man's name, Danilo.
Danilo used to be the old cook in the Lazarey household when Sark was still a young boy. He was treated by Sark as his surrogate father. Danilo was pulled back to Italy by a major family financial crisis. That situation pushed Sark to perform his first step to his present life.
Sark had stolen money and gold from the safety deposit box in the room of the father who never was home. He never figured out how he broke the box's lock code, and Danilo never knew the true roots of the money. All Danilo knows is that he practically owes his family's life to Sark. The money Sark had given his family had been used to finance the flourishing business that is the dessert lounge Sark and Sydney are temporarily taking shelter in.
A woman approached Sydney, who she assumed is the wife of Danilo by the similar accent they shared, the assumed age, and the wedding ring on her finger. "Hello, are you with Julian?"
"Uh, yes. But we are not…together"
The woman handed her a towel to dry herself, "Would you like some dessert and wine to share with Julian until the rain stops?"
Before she could answer, she was following the woman up to the second level and to the covered balcony. She sat down at the table for two and looked at the other couples inside enjoying their dates in this nice, cold night.
Sydney then heard footsteps from behind her, and Sark molded himself in his seat. He looked at her, looking back at him, such as he was reading her mind. Fair enough, he knew right on what she was thinking.
"Danilo used to be a cook in my home in Britain when I was just a young boy. He holds no threats to the United State's national security, so you could let whatever's theory you were brewing up about him go"
"And I was also going to ask what you two were talking about. But to prove that I'm not too paranoid, I'm letting that go. So I'm just going to ask you about the new information you got"
"Well, it's another bomb exchange" he paused to look for onlookers, and inched closer to Sydney. "Amazing how these deals go around on a regular basis"
She rolled her eyes, "Tell me about it. You are usually a part of it"
He smirked and leaned back on his wooden chair, "And you usually make it end badly for me"
"I'll take that as a compliment. Now continue…"
"From what I heard, a certain Schulze and Montoc are the key dealers—"
"Schulze…you mean Carlotta Schulze?"
He shrugged, "Since one was a woman, it is probable"
Sydney lightly threw her head back in laughter. She explained to a confused Sark that she had encountered Carlotta Schulze before in a mission. A male escort always accompanies the woman to everywhere, even if the escort turned out to be an agent working against her.
"So I guess this would be another easy target"
"But I should tell you, she has strange preferences. She is heavily eccentric, and expects her escorts to be in the same appearance"
Sark blinked at her, "So, why are you telling me this?" his expression turned wicked, "Are you seriously telling me that we, you and I, are going to intercept with the exchange, outside of the CIA's orders? Why?"
"Because if we return, they might hold us back on debriefing, they would probably question your intel—"
"And you don't question it?"
But for the second time in the night, Danilo's wife cut off Sydney's words. The wife placed two wine goblets in their table and poured on a hefty serving of fine red wine. Danilo soon followed with freshly made tiramisu for them to share. The presence of candlelight glowing on their faces did not help lessen the romantic mood.
Sark noticed the foreign expression on Sydney's face, "What's wrong, Miss Bristow?"
"Nothing, I'm just thinking"
"May I know what you are thinking about?"
"No"
Sark's look pleaded with her. He raised his wine glass to her and took a sip. "Wine's perfect. You should at least try it while we are here"
"That's exactly what I'm talking about"
"What?"
"We are too…loose. Too lenient, or lax with each other"
He smirked "And what's wrong with that?"
"The original plan is to get the mission done. That's it" She crossed her arms, "Plus, I feel like I should be enjoying this with Vaughn…not you" she muttered.
Sark leaned closer to her, putting down his wine glass, and clasped his hands together. "What exactly are we enjoying, Miss Bristow?"
"Oh, don't play dumb with meIf we are on normal circumstances, no CIA, no bombs, no Rambaldi, no Sloane, no Mr. Sark, but instead a Julian Lazarey…" She struggled with her following words, her hands aiding her as she spoke, "…we would somewhat be on a date"
"The rain, the music, wine, dessert, candlelight, balcony, you and I" He nodded, "So it's a date, so why don't we just enjoy it. There's no surveillance, no one's listening on the other end, Sydney. We could consider this as our reward for 'mission accomplished'"
Sydney looked at him. Deep within her, she was considering the consideration. What could possibly happen? Well, a lot. But the wine and dessert looked too inviting for her to resist. Strangely, she did not feel a bit apprehensive about her decision.
"I am not seeing this as a date, but as a reward" She picked up her fork, "This better not be drugged"
"I've been eating it, I should be dead by now if it is"
"Darn"
"Finally, a smile from you. Your humor kills me, pun intended"
Sydney smile got wider at his latter comment and took a sip of her fine wine. "I'll have to remind you. I have this nasty habit of getting drunk on red wine"
"Well, that would be quite a show. An intoxicated Bristow"
She raised an eyebrow, "I also have self control, just so you know"
Sark pursed his lips and smiled. He wanted to say more, but words did not have to play a part in their so-called perfect date. He just picked his fork back up and enjoyed the rare moment in silence.
With their silence, there was an unspoken understanding. Sydney gave some thought about Sark's history with her, but quickly dismissed it. His current state made her think about his capability to be a normal person. Someone she could definitely be attracted to if it was not for his grim past.
Sark already was attracted to her, he made it clear in several occasions. She just never returned his feelings. They were reserved for someone else. That someone he thought he could break by having an affair with his wife. But that experience just left him lost, looking for the love he felt, and feeling empty. The only woman who returned his love was dead. And her husband went running back to the other woman he wanted.
o-o-o
"Home sweet home"
"Don't get too comfortable, we have to talk" Sydney tucked the bomb safely along with her weapons, checking it for certainty. "By the way, we'll drop the bomb off at the safe house before we leave. I'll leave a message to my father"
"Sydney we can't leave. There is still a tracking device on my chest, and the car…"
Sydney looked at him sitting on the edge of the bed, tapping his fingers together. "Oh yeah, you'll be sleeping on the floor"
He stood in surprise, "Are you being serious? It's been raining, the tiles are cold"
"There's the bench" She gave him a fake smile, "there are handles, perfect for handcuffs"
He traced his lower lip before pursing it, hiding his frustration. He walked towards the bench and stared at it. "Looks uncomfortable"
She stood behind him, "it's better than the floor, so don't complain" she looked at him, shaking his head at his wooden slab of a bed, "I need you to take a shower. After that, I'll take care of your bug and ask you a few questions. Make it fast"
Sark turned to her, keeping their distance limited. "A bath would be nice" He started undoing his shirt buttons, silently smiling, keeping their eyes locked. She stopped his warm hands mid-way. He bit his lower lip and smirked and he tossed his shirt aside.
"Stop, Sark. That won't work with me, just go" Sydney pushed him to the bathroom and shut the door. "Don't try anything funny"
o-o-o
Steam rushed out of the bathroom, but was pushed back in by Sydney holding a dissecting kit. "I'm not going to kill you"
Sark's voice trembled, "Then why are you here? Couldn't this wait until I get outside the bathroom?"
"The steam neutralizes the tracking device on your chest when it's exposed to it" She took out a blade and positioned it in his right chest. "This is going to hurt"
He stiffened, taking in air, "I'm used to it"
Sydney used her free hand to open the hot water and let the steam rise. She was laughing in her mind at the thought of her and Sark in a 'steamy' situation. "Don't move"
"You don't have to tell me that"
She took the first cut, and made it the deepest. Like a splinter, the capsule sized device was pried out. Sark's steam infused blood trickled down his chest, his abdomen, and straight to her hands wiping it away with a damp cloth.
"Caught you red handed, Sydney"
Sydney laughed out loud for the first time in the night since the mention of Carlotta Schulze. "That was so lame, I had to laugh"
"May I see it?"
She handed him the blinking bug, "I'll dismantle it after it's deactivated and toss it out"
"And the car?"
"Yeah, I have to think about that too…Marshall never specified the position of the bug in there"
"I could offer my resources"
"Don't push your freedom, it's temporary"
Sark gave her back the bug and she placed it directly over the steaming showerhead. Like predicted, the blinking red light slowly went off. "Who were you planning to contact if I do ask for your…"
"…Help?" he paused. "Alphonse Stanfa"
She went out of the bathroom and started fiddling with the bug, "Who's he?"
"Danilo's brother-in-law, he can be trusted, and relied upon. He is a former mafia kingpin" He pulled out a striking orange shirt that ironically had the words: 'CIA prisoner' written in big, bold letters across it. "Could this be any more subtle?"
She laughed, "I bought that in Mexico, I couldn't help getting it"
"So what would be my next item of clothing? Let's see…cartoon pajamas?"
Sydney shook her head, "Back to business, Sark. We keep on getting off track" she tossed the mangled bug out of the window. "Are you telling me that we are going to enlist the help of a former Don?"
"He's been out of the business for a long time"
"How did you get contact with him?"
"Danilo's family needed the money, Alphonse's sister is part of the family. And I provided them the money"
"So now it's payback time"
"A payback from a don means death" he said, slipping on striking blue pajama bottoms. "It's a harmless favor, Sydney. Just transportation"
"Alright, handle that aspect first thing in the morning. Ask him if he can pull some strings with his connections so that we won't have to pass by customs in Heathrow"
"Actually Sydney, the location's in Marrakech. I said London to throw off any listeners"
The night grew colder, and their disobedience to the CIA got deeper as they smoothed out their plans. Everything was set for Sark's disguise; he would be a brunette the next day. Sydney would be with the getaway car and would be relaying guides from a distance through an earpiece she snuck in her op-tech bag. Easy as pie.
o-o-o
"If everything is set, then I'll go to bed"
"You mean, go to bench?"
"Right, bench"
Sydney smiled as she grabbed a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Sark to the bench handle. "I'll wake you up in the morning. And you'll make the call to Alphonse. And we're off"
"Do I not get a goodnight kiss?""
"Bite your tongue"
o-o-o
The room stayed silent as they retreated for the night. Sark remained in his wooden slab of a bed, handcuffed, and staring at the wooden support on the ceiling. He entertained himself by tapping his foot along the songs playing in his head. He flushed all the thoughts of being on a mission from his mind, only to be reminded when he moves his cuffed right hand.
All possible thoughts rushed to the space provided by the mission-mind cleansing. Sydney Bristow was not an exception. He recalled a period in his life when he craved to see her in missions, to see her new disguises, to hear her witty retorts. He also thought if his unhealthy attraction to her is just a phase or would it turn into something that could break his limits of emotions. Right now, he was just satisfied with harmless flirting…no emotions, no pain.
But as they say: no pain, no gain.
o-o-o
--to be continued--