Deceive | Part Two
* * *
"I'll tell you what my thoughts are, you son of a--"
"Now, now, Sydney. There's no need to be so hurtful. Why, it wasn't your fault I disappeared for two years. Yes. That's what happened. We had a fight, you left, and I while I was heroically searching for you, the CIA captured me and--"
"--Fight this," she wrenched her arms free and aimed a punch at his jaw. He ducked and went around her, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. "Now then. Where were we? Oh yes. Captured. And I think-- Julia, darling, please stop trying to kick me--that we were madly in love."
Sydney judged her left leg to be closest to his stomach and reared back, getting ready to kick him, hard. He expected it and smiled to himself. Then he slapped her on the butt.
He could feel the shock travel all the way down the line of her body. Of course, it didn't help that he was inexplicably attuned to this woman, and that whatever she was feeling was somehow not always written all over her face, but pretty damn close enough. Of course, it didn't hurt that she was hanging halfway down his back. Or that every inch of her body was nearly plastered to him.
Sark knew exactly when she came to her senses because, of course, the first thing she tried to do, was kick him again. He finally reached up and laid an arm across her legs. "Will you please stop trying to kick me?"
"I'll stop trying to kill you when you learn to keep your *hands* off me."
"Oh, but Sydney, it's so much more fun this way."
She twisted her body awkwardly until she could see his face out of the corner of her eye. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."
He let the right side of his lip curl up and continued down the hallway.
"I can see that, you know."
"I'm sure you can."
* * *
She tried not to like the car ride so much. After all, she'd been in some tuna can with Sloane and a gun to her head, and that had been much more exciting, right?
Wrong.
Sark drove as if he really didn't care that there was a tree blocking the road in front of them--she gripped the armrest tightly, hanging on as he spun them around it--or that he was breaking the speed limit now matter how high your culture could count, or in what denomination--No, Sark had absolute, cocky faith that he would make it on the other side completely unscathed. What shouldn't have surprised Sydney was that they did.
After he'd turned off the engine, they sat in the car; he, obviously preparing to speak, she, out of respect from God only knew where, waiting for him to do so.
"You are, of course, going to finish this out?"
"It was my objective, either way." She looked out the window, realizing they'd beat Simon there. No surprise, considered the speed they'd traveled to arrive. Arrogant jerk. "When will you tell him?"
"After the job. Don't want his mind all fuddled while there's a gunman on your back."
"I'm touched."
"Thought you would be."
"--Though I trust you're speaking figuratively." Their superb spy memories kicked into gear, prompting images of their positions no more than ten minutes ago.
Sark moved his gaze from the mirror to her profile. She could feel his eyes lasering into her cheekbone, almost as if trying to brand her in some way. He turned her chin towards him. "I would certainly hope so. Not that I see Simon letting it happen in the first place."
A low rumble grew from behind them and Sydney knew Simon had arrived.
"Company," Sark muttered.
She would have confirmed this for herself, but Sark had yet to relinquish his grip on her. They were suddenly locked into an impromptu staring match, and neither of them wanted to back down. A smirk, ironically, softened the hard look on his face. They were now so close that she was all but inhaling when he exhaled.
"Good luck," he murmured, brushing his lips against her, once, pausing, and then twice. "I think this is where you call me a bastard," he dryly remarked, slowly pulling back to watch her reaction.
As if snapping out of a daze, she flinched and jumped back. "I don't need you to wish me luck," Sydney retorted, smoothing her hair down and climbing out of the car.
He lingered with his hand on the key as she walked over to the team. Straining now, almost worried that he wouldn't be able to hear, a soft mutter carried well over the night air.
"Bastard."
Sark smirked and peeled out, swerving past them and heading for the second rendezvous point.
* * *
"Bastard."
Sydney slammed the door behind her and grinned as she crawled over Simon. "Thanks being such a gentleman."
"Anytime, Babe." He grinned back and they were off to the gatehouse.
She tried not to think of the blonde spy in the fast car while they drove on in silence. It wasn't working, and she repeated it quieter, to herself. Thankfully, the jeep was full of men and they all knew to stay away from her at this point. So there was no questioning who she was speaking of.
Because, like it or not, she had been claimed.
By Sark.
* * *
It wasn't until the jeep stopped that she started to worry.
"What's this?"
Simon glanced at her and slid out of the vehicle, gesturing for her to do the same. She braced her hands on his shoulders, involuntarily smiling as his went around her waist and swung her to the ground.
"Switching vehicles. in case we've been followed."
Her hand stilled over the lipstick in her pocket and she fought not to gape in shock as they escorted a bloody figure out of the other jeep. His features came into view and she had to bite back a gasp.
Vaughn.
Before she could say anything, the squealing of tires and hard shift of gravel could be heard a ways back. Sark got out of his car and walked over. "What have we here?"
"This man--Julia insists he's her supplier," piped up one of the men on Simon's team. "And this is what I meant!--His equipment is CIA issued!"
She appealed to Simon. "I swear to you, he is my *supplier*!"
He lifted a brow and turned to Sark. "Well?"
Sark's eyes flickered to her for the briefest of seconds. "Julia will take this man. and dispose of him as she sees fit. We must be particularly careful now that we have reason to suspect the CIA's interference. It will be wise to make the switch at a later time." He held out a gun to her and she took it.
Sydney left her position next to Simon and roughly grabbed Vaughn, dragging him away, praying that they would get out of sight in time.
She did not know what was going to happen next.
Not for the first time, she was going to have to trust Sark.
Not a pleasant thought.
* * *
::What are you doing, mate? If he's CIA--::
::--Then she should be the one to do him in. Julia does not take lightly the people who betray her.::
Sydney had checked the gun a while back, to see a small earpiece tucked into the trigger. Of course. Sark would want some way to stay in contact with her. The conversation stopped there, and it was just as well or she would have had to find some way to turn it off, because Vaughn was not getting better any faster by walking aimlessly. An idea struck her.
She looped her arm around his waist and squeezed him in a hug. "C'mon, Vaughn. We've got to run."
Tired, beaten, and weak though he was, there was still over a decade of CIA training in him, forcing him to move when it didn't seem possible. There was also the sheer-*Vaughn* determination she'd always loved about him, and she saw it clearing the fog in his green eyes. He started to hobble into a run.
It was becoming apparent that they could not go much further this way, and she hoped her instinct would serve her right.
"I think--" he struggled to get out, "--we've walked in a circle, Syd."
Her eyes alighted on the gleaming black sports car illuminated by the moonlight. "I know."
* * *
They made it to a CIA-covered hospital shortly after. Weiss had stopped in and met up with them, and was currently relaying the situation to Dixon. He told her that she had somehow gone radio silent after he'd realized Vaughn was gone. Sydney then understood Sark's sly handling of the gun. Of course it would knock out further outgoing transmissions. no need to *fully* supply the enemy with your location.
She held Vaughn's hand tightly, attempting to smile the best she could while sitting in leather that now had enough dirt and sweat embedded into it to keep her fidgeting every now and then. Lauren was on her way over. They weren't allowed to fly him back to LA until he could at least walk on his own. And he'd suffered a few too many scratch wounds and beatings to do that just yet.
The beeping on the heart monitor settled to a comfortable hum as he opened his eyes.
"Hi."
"Hi," she tried a lopsided grin. "Sorry you got beat up."
He rolled his eyes. "Happens to the best of us."
"Apparently," she chuckled softly. "What happened to you?"
"Weiss and I were listening--we got Marshall to deal with the picture crisis, but afterward, with Sark. in the hallway." He trailed off into a question and she ducked her head, avoiding his gaze.
"It was nothing."
"We thought Sark. was going to kill you." He coughed out weakly. "You can't--"
"--No, Vaughn." A sudden clarity filled her mind. "Sark just saved your life."
* * *
| Two days later. |
Sydney had been looking over whatever reports she could dig up on Sark. She reasoned that she was going through this because she was trying to figure out what he'd want from her in exchange for her life--and Vaughn's. It wasn't a matter of *if*, for she knew he would demand some sort of payment. She'd been hoping to glean something from his transcripts, while in CIA custody, but it was now half a day later, and she was no closer to deciphering the enigmatic Mr. Sark.
"Where are you, Sark?" She wondered aloud, putting aside the papers and reaching for her glass of wine.
"I imagine in between the kitchen and the living room, although with these Americanized floor plans, one can never really be certain."
She looked up to see him standing before her with his hands tucked into his pockets.
"I'm not sure I want to know how you got in my apartment, without me knowing, while I was here. It's embarrassing, actually."
He smirked in response and sat down across from her. "I'm going to pretend you just invited me to chat and we'll gloss over that for the time being. The real question is, Sydney, have you given any more thought to us? Because I can assure you, I have."
* * *
End Part two.
* * *
"I'll tell you what my thoughts are, you son of a--"
"Now, now, Sydney. There's no need to be so hurtful. Why, it wasn't your fault I disappeared for two years. Yes. That's what happened. We had a fight, you left, and I while I was heroically searching for you, the CIA captured me and--"
"--Fight this," she wrenched her arms free and aimed a punch at his jaw. He ducked and went around her, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. "Now then. Where were we? Oh yes. Captured. And I think-- Julia, darling, please stop trying to kick me--that we were madly in love."
Sydney judged her left leg to be closest to his stomach and reared back, getting ready to kick him, hard. He expected it and smiled to himself. Then he slapped her on the butt.
He could feel the shock travel all the way down the line of her body. Of course, it didn't help that he was inexplicably attuned to this woman, and that whatever she was feeling was somehow not always written all over her face, but pretty damn close enough. Of course, it didn't hurt that she was hanging halfway down his back. Or that every inch of her body was nearly plastered to him.
Sark knew exactly when she came to her senses because, of course, the first thing she tried to do, was kick him again. He finally reached up and laid an arm across her legs. "Will you please stop trying to kick me?"
"I'll stop trying to kill you when you learn to keep your *hands* off me."
"Oh, but Sydney, it's so much more fun this way."
She twisted her body awkwardly until she could see his face out of the corner of her eye. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that."
He let the right side of his lip curl up and continued down the hallway.
"I can see that, you know."
"I'm sure you can."
* * *
She tried not to like the car ride so much. After all, she'd been in some tuna can with Sloane and a gun to her head, and that had been much more exciting, right?
Wrong.
Sark drove as if he really didn't care that there was a tree blocking the road in front of them--she gripped the armrest tightly, hanging on as he spun them around it--or that he was breaking the speed limit now matter how high your culture could count, or in what denomination--No, Sark had absolute, cocky faith that he would make it on the other side completely unscathed. What shouldn't have surprised Sydney was that they did.
After he'd turned off the engine, they sat in the car; he, obviously preparing to speak, she, out of respect from God only knew where, waiting for him to do so.
"You are, of course, going to finish this out?"
"It was my objective, either way." She looked out the window, realizing they'd beat Simon there. No surprise, considered the speed they'd traveled to arrive. Arrogant jerk. "When will you tell him?"
"After the job. Don't want his mind all fuddled while there's a gunman on your back."
"I'm touched."
"Thought you would be."
"--Though I trust you're speaking figuratively." Their superb spy memories kicked into gear, prompting images of their positions no more than ten minutes ago.
Sark moved his gaze from the mirror to her profile. She could feel his eyes lasering into her cheekbone, almost as if trying to brand her in some way. He turned her chin towards him. "I would certainly hope so. Not that I see Simon letting it happen in the first place."
A low rumble grew from behind them and Sydney knew Simon had arrived.
"Company," Sark muttered.
She would have confirmed this for herself, but Sark had yet to relinquish his grip on her. They were suddenly locked into an impromptu staring match, and neither of them wanted to back down. A smirk, ironically, softened the hard look on his face. They were now so close that she was all but inhaling when he exhaled.
"Good luck," he murmured, brushing his lips against her, once, pausing, and then twice. "I think this is where you call me a bastard," he dryly remarked, slowly pulling back to watch her reaction.
As if snapping out of a daze, she flinched and jumped back. "I don't need you to wish me luck," Sydney retorted, smoothing her hair down and climbing out of the car.
He lingered with his hand on the key as she walked over to the team. Straining now, almost worried that he wouldn't be able to hear, a soft mutter carried well over the night air.
"Bastard."
Sark smirked and peeled out, swerving past them and heading for the second rendezvous point.
* * *
"Bastard."
Sydney slammed the door behind her and grinned as she crawled over Simon. "Thanks being such a gentleman."
"Anytime, Babe." He grinned back and they were off to the gatehouse.
She tried not to think of the blonde spy in the fast car while they drove on in silence. It wasn't working, and she repeated it quieter, to herself. Thankfully, the jeep was full of men and they all knew to stay away from her at this point. So there was no questioning who she was speaking of.
Because, like it or not, she had been claimed.
By Sark.
* * *
It wasn't until the jeep stopped that she started to worry.
"What's this?"
Simon glanced at her and slid out of the vehicle, gesturing for her to do the same. She braced her hands on his shoulders, involuntarily smiling as his went around her waist and swung her to the ground.
"Switching vehicles. in case we've been followed."
Her hand stilled over the lipstick in her pocket and she fought not to gape in shock as they escorted a bloody figure out of the other jeep. His features came into view and she had to bite back a gasp.
Vaughn.
Before she could say anything, the squealing of tires and hard shift of gravel could be heard a ways back. Sark got out of his car and walked over. "What have we here?"
"This man--Julia insists he's her supplier," piped up one of the men on Simon's team. "And this is what I meant!--His equipment is CIA issued!"
She appealed to Simon. "I swear to you, he is my *supplier*!"
He lifted a brow and turned to Sark. "Well?"
Sark's eyes flickered to her for the briefest of seconds. "Julia will take this man. and dispose of him as she sees fit. We must be particularly careful now that we have reason to suspect the CIA's interference. It will be wise to make the switch at a later time." He held out a gun to her and she took it.
Sydney left her position next to Simon and roughly grabbed Vaughn, dragging him away, praying that they would get out of sight in time.
She did not know what was going to happen next.
Not for the first time, she was going to have to trust Sark.
Not a pleasant thought.
* * *
::What are you doing, mate? If he's CIA--::
::--Then she should be the one to do him in. Julia does not take lightly the people who betray her.::
Sydney had checked the gun a while back, to see a small earpiece tucked into the trigger. Of course. Sark would want some way to stay in contact with her. The conversation stopped there, and it was just as well or she would have had to find some way to turn it off, because Vaughn was not getting better any faster by walking aimlessly. An idea struck her.
She looped her arm around his waist and squeezed him in a hug. "C'mon, Vaughn. We've got to run."
Tired, beaten, and weak though he was, there was still over a decade of CIA training in him, forcing him to move when it didn't seem possible. There was also the sheer-*Vaughn* determination she'd always loved about him, and she saw it clearing the fog in his green eyes. He started to hobble into a run.
It was becoming apparent that they could not go much further this way, and she hoped her instinct would serve her right.
"I think--" he struggled to get out, "--we've walked in a circle, Syd."
Her eyes alighted on the gleaming black sports car illuminated by the moonlight. "I know."
* * *
They made it to a CIA-covered hospital shortly after. Weiss had stopped in and met up with them, and was currently relaying the situation to Dixon. He told her that she had somehow gone radio silent after he'd realized Vaughn was gone. Sydney then understood Sark's sly handling of the gun. Of course it would knock out further outgoing transmissions. no need to *fully* supply the enemy with your location.
She held Vaughn's hand tightly, attempting to smile the best she could while sitting in leather that now had enough dirt and sweat embedded into it to keep her fidgeting every now and then. Lauren was on her way over. They weren't allowed to fly him back to LA until he could at least walk on his own. And he'd suffered a few too many scratch wounds and beatings to do that just yet.
The beeping on the heart monitor settled to a comfortable hum as he opened his eyes.
"Hi."
"Hi," she tried a lopsided grin. "Sorry you got beat up."
He rolled his eyes. "Happens to the best of us."
"Apparently," she chuckled softly. "What happened to you?"
"Weiss and I were listening--we got Marshall to deal with the picture crisis, but afterward, with Sark. in the hallway." He trailed off into a question and she ducked her head, avoiding his gaze.
"It was nothing."
"We thought Sark. was going to kill you." He coughed out weakly. "You can't--"
"--No, Vaughn." A sudden clarity filled her mind. "Sark just saved your life."
* * *
| Two days later. |
Sydney had been looking over whatever reports she could dig up on Sark. She reasoned that she was going through this because she was trying to figure out what he'd want from her in exchange for her life--and Vaughn's. It wasn't a matter of *if*, for she knew he would demand some sort of payment. She'd been hoping to glean something from his transcripts, while in CIA custody, but it was now half a day later, and she was no closer to deciphering the enigmatic Mr. Sark.
"Where are you, Sark?" She wondered aloud, putting aside the papers and reaching for her glass of wine.
"I imagine in between the kitchen and the living room, although with these Americanized floor plans, one can never really be certain."
She looked up to see him standing before her with his hands tucked into his pockets.
"I'm not sure I want to know how you got in my apartment, without me knowing, while I was here. It's embarrassing, actually."
He smirked in response and sat down across from her. "I'm going to pretend you just invited me to chat and we'll gloss over that for the time being. The real question is, Sydney, have you given any more thought to us? Because I can assure you, I have."
* * *
End Part two.