[DECEIVE | PART FIVE
A/N: Last update for at least 2 weeks. I have some schoolwork to catch up on and this is getting to be a little too demanding. Don't worry, I'll keep writing down my notes and have massive Sarkney on the brain. . . but it's got to take a backseat for a little while. At least until Christmas break.
* * *
She was learning that even if they weren't trying to meet someone somewhere, Sark preferred speed over safety. That taking corners well over 60 MPH wasn't being flashy, or trying to show off, it was just the way he drove. That getting him to change this aspect of his personality would be completely out of the question. Even if they were supposedly engaged.
Then another thought occurred to her: Would Julia have a problem with the way he drove? Did she even care? Did she drive like this?
"Did you teach me how to drive?"
Sark gave her an incredulous look from the corner of his eye. "Sydney, I'm afraid you've done a masterful job of all criminal car chase scenes if you didn't learn to drive until I came into your life."
She swatted him on the arm and the car swerved slightly into the other lane as a result. "You know what I mean. Do I drive like you now--because I learned from you?"
He seemed to understand the obscurity in her statement and clarified, "Do you have some of my habits as a result of our relationship, you mean?" Sydney nodded. Sark took time considering his answer, and Sydney watched in amazement as the speedometer lowered accordingly.
"I think that your being with me has made you more reckless," he finally spoke. "And while 'Julia,' is a bit of a live wire, I've given you purpose. Made you driven. Whereas you have loosened me up considerably. And you're forever at me to slow down, even though you secretly love the feeling of speed."
The lull in conversation made each very aware of their space in such close quarters and she wanted to fidget in her seat anxiously.
"Of course, our sex life is indescribable." Sark said as an afterthought.
Her eyes widened and she turned to him. "Maybe because it's *non- existent*," she hissed, daggers shooting from her eyes.
His brow lifted as they took another left into what suddenly turned into a small town. "Indescribable, indeed."
* * *
He led her into the quaint hustle and bustle of the provincial village as if he'd been there many times before. With ease, he navigated around a fruit cart and coffee stand, stopping only once to purchase a white rose that he tucked into her hair with a smirk.
The gesture touched her but at the same time, set off warning bells in her head. Why was Sark being like this? He was almost. pleasant to be with. Sydney resolved to not let any more of his attempts at creating some bit of romance between them get to her. Like, what was with that move he'd made on the plane? What *was* that? She shook her head and put more space between them.
No sooner had she done so, before Sark easily reached an arm across the distance and clasping his hand comfortably at her waist. It drew them together once more, and to Sydney's discomfort, even closer than they had been previously.
Sark noted her stiff demeanor and inwardly smiled. He was getting to her and they both knew it. He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, "It might just behoove you to act like my fiancée, for now. Simon could have several tails on us at this point, just to see if we really *are* a couple."
"Right, because they could have kept up with your insane driving!"
Instead of replying in kind, his eyes softened.
"Oh, no," she muttered, quietly, backing up. "You stay away from me while you have that look in your eye."
The shark's grin expanded on his face as he dipped his head to hers. She had fully intended to turn away, but the fire in his eyes held her still, like a magnet. Still grinning, he kissed the right corner of her mouth and reached down to lace their fingers together.
"Still want me to stay away?"
She met his dancing blue eyes and felt more of her carefully constructed walls coming down. "Yes," she sullenly muttered.
Sark's gaze darted down to their hands and he whistled softly.
Against her will, Sydney felt the corners of her mouth breaking into a grin. She sighed. He was hopeless.
* * *
The ground-floor apartment Sark brought her to was surprisingly simple.
"It's not mine," he said, off her incredulous look. "It belongs to. . . a friend. I've been given use of it to store a few of my belongings."
She tore her eyes away from the disturbingly familiar layer of interior decorating and watched as he moved what looked like a very heavy picture aside. Behind it rested a safe.
Feeling her gaze, he shook his head slightly. "Do you mind?"
Shocked, and slightly humored by the question, she obligingly turned around and waited until she heard it open before moving. He held a small black box in his left hand and closed the safe with his right, setting the picture back up with ease. Sark beckoned her over to the window seat and indicated that she should sit down.
Sydney did, eyebrows raised in askance. He seemed to be weighing the box in his hand, but she knew enough about him that Sark often did one thing while working on another. He wasn't really interested in the weight of the box, rather, he was probably deciding what to do with it.
Abruptly, he handed it to her. The movement both shocked and startled her, for it was out of character for him to move so choppily, and give up his prize without a fight. She took it curiously, wondering what was inside. The intensity of his stare was starting to give her the chills and so, without speaking, she lifted the lid.
It was the ring.
The stone embedded in the platinum was a shocking fuchsia color--the exact shade of her hair that night so long ago in a smoky club when things had seemed so much simpler. Just days before her life had taken one of many earth-shattering changes.
Startled, she jerked her head up to find him watching her and she knew. He had bought the ring, made it, had it done--whatever--and thought of her. The fact alone was unsettling. The realization itself would take days to kick in. And the true impact wouldn't hit her for another month or so.
"I guess I should be thanking you right about now," she said, powerless to tear her gaze away from the bright colored stone. His fingers came into view and gently tugged the ring away, where she followed their trail to her left hand, as he fit it on her shaking hand. It tugged once over her knuckle, then slid smoothly down to rest at the base of her finger, looking for all in the world like it belonged there.
She was shaken to see that it fit her so well, and to find that she was unable to keep from lifting her hand to the light and admiring the cut. "It's beautiful."
Sark, who hadn't taken his gaze off her for a moment, and was watching her enchantment with the ring, replied, "I expected nothing less." For god's sake, why had all those men in her life screwed up so badly? All she needed was a little attention and she simply glowed.
He plucked her hand out of the air and tangled his fingers comfortably with hers. Her pulse jumped slightly against his wrist and he inwardly smiled. He led her to the door and they walked outside, trying to forget the severity of the moment that had just passed. He gently swung their joined hands together, loosening her gait and easing the tension out of her shoulders.
"You know, for someone who doesn't do this sort of thing every day, I've got to hand it to you; I was totally convinced you wanted to marry me back there."
She'd put her sunglasses on against the brightness and he found it disappointing that he could no longer read her eyes. "Of course I do." She stilled abruptly at the admission and he gamely tugged her along, planting a kiss to her temple. "Come on, love. Let's go for a drive until you get this sorted out."
* * *
And so they were driving again.
She sat silently in her seat, listening as the wind rushed through the car, having little regard for the state her hair would be in when she eventually got out. Her attention was still fastened on the ring on her left hand and he had to congratulate himself on purchasing the stone nearly four years ago.
\\\Sark had left the nightclub with a day's worth of freedom between the next assignment from Irina. They no longer had Tippin in their custody, but he was going to get him from CIA custody in less 24 hours and Irina knew of what importance he placed upon personal time. She'd told him to be back well after dark and that he needn't worry about things until then.
So he'd done something he rarely allowed himself to do. He wandered. Without a purpose, without any set location in mind. Just. . . walked. His footsteps led him to a particularly ornate jewelry display, with gems of various shades and colors. He had been all but ready to leave when a pink stone nearly hiding in the back, caught his attention.
Five minutes later, he'd had it removed from the dull gold setting and was the proud owner of what was classified as crimson tanzanite. While tanzanite, always a purple-blue in color, was somewhat of a rarity, it came nowhere near the scarcity of the red variation. It was a striking stone, and not knowing why, he'd purchased it purely on a whim.
Later, when he got home, he'd given it closer consideration and froze in shock. He'd bought it because it reminded him of Sydney. Whom he'd met all of once, and seen a handful of times. He knew she was Irina's daughter, and knew (at least vaguely) about her. But that didn't explain why she'd influenced his choice in buying a precious stone more exceptional than diamonds.
That night, as he stood on the end of the nearby docks, fully prepared to throw it away, he opened the box again and stared at it. Settled gently against the black velvet it sparkled like fire in the moonlight. Sark shivered against the wind and set it back in his pocket.
He would not be getting rid of it.
Of that much, he was certain.///
So it was of little consequence, after he'd carried their charade a few steps forward and deduced that Sydney would need some form of ring, that he'd taken it back to the same jeweler and had it set in platinum. It fit her perfectly and defied the viewer to take their eyes away from it.
So far, it had worked. Sydney couldn't tear her eyes away. But her body was still rigid with questions and he knew he had to answer at least a few of them.
"We're going to rest tonight. There is a house outside of Paris that I had originally intended to take you to. I hadn't prepared for a side- trip. . . but it seems to have worked out for the best." She met his eyes with what could only be described as a deer in the headlights look. For some reason, she'd been completely different after receiving the ring.
Not wanting to dwell on such things, he continued, "We'll spend a few days there. Simon spoke to me about a new job he thought you'd be interested in. It's your decision whether or not you take it, but we will have to start planting tangible evidence of our relationship for the past two years. He has questions, and you'll need to be prepared to answer them."
She nodded mutely and lifted her eyes to the road. Sark attempted eye contact, slightly annoyed when she refused to meet his gaze. She sighed once, quietly, and then closed her eyes.
To his utter amazement, she fell asleep.
* * *
Thoughts?
Quick side note: this has been driving me nuts, so I just want to point out this important fact: Sark bought the *STONE* almost four years ago. NOT THE RING. HE HAD THE RING MADE AFTER SYDNEY WENT BACK TO THE STATES WITH VAUGHN. Ahem. Sorry. Didn't mean to yell, there.
A/N: Last update for at least 2 weeks. I have some schoolwork to catch up on and this is getting to be a little too demanding. Don't worry, I'll keep writing down my notes and have massive Sarkney on the brain. . . but it's got to take a backseat for a little while. At least until Christmas break.
* * *
She was learning that even if they weren't trying to meet someone somewhere, Sark preferred speed over safety. That taking corners well over 60 MPH wasn't being flashy, or trying to show off, it was just the way he drove. That getting him to change this aspect of his personality would be completely out of the question. Even if they were supposedly engaged.
Then another thought occurred to her: Would Julia have a problem with the way he drove? Did she even care? Did she drive like this?
"Did you teach me how to drive?"
Sark gave her an incredulous look from the corner of his eye. "Sydney, I'm afraid you've done a masterful job of all criminal car chase scenes if you didn't learn to drive until I came into your life."
She swatted him on the arm and the car swerved slightly into the other lane as a result. "You know what I mean. Do I drive like you now--because I learned from you?"
He seemed to understand the obscurity in her statement and clarified, "Do you have some of my habits as a result of our relationship, you mean?" Sydney nodded. Sark took time considering his answer, and Sydney watched in amazement as the speedometer lowered accordingly.
"I think that your being with me has made you more reckless," he finally spoke. "And while 'Julia,' is a bit of a live wire, I've given you purpose. Made you driven. Whereas you have loosened me up considerably. And you're forever at me to slow down, even though you secretly love the feeling of speed."
The lull in conversation made each very aware of their space in such close quarters and she wanted to fidget in her seat anxiously.
"Of course, our sex life is indescribable." Sark said as an afterthought.
Her eyes widened and she turned to him. "Maybe because it's *non- existent*," she hissed, daggers shooting from her eyes.
His brow lifted as they took another left into what suddenly turned into a small town. "Indescribable, indeed."
* * *
He led her into the quaint hustle and bustle of the provincial village as if he'd been there many times before. With ease, he navigated around a fruit cart and coffee stand, stopping only once to purchase a white rose that he tucked into her hair with a smirk.
The gesture touched her but at the same time, set off warning bells in her head. Why was Sark being like this? He was almost. pleasant to be with. Sydney resolved to not let any more of his attempts at creating some bit of romance between them get to her. Like, what was with that move he'd made on the plane? What *was* that? She shook her head and put more space between them.
No sooner had she done so, before Sark easily reached an arm across the distance and clasping his hand comfortably at her waist. It drew them together once more, and to Sydney's discomfort, even closer than they had been previously.
Sark noted her stiff demeanor and inwardly smiled. He was getting to her and they both knew it. He lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered, "It might just behoove you to act like my fiancée, for now. Simon could have several tails on us at this point, just to see if we really *are* a couple."
"Right, because they could have kept up with your insane driving!"
Instead of replying in kind, his eyes softened.
"Oh, no," she muttered, quietly, backing up. "You stay away from me while you have that look in your eye."
The shark's grin expanded on his face as he dipped his head to hers. She had fully intended to turn away, but the fire in his eyes held her still, like a magnet. Still grinning, he kissed the right corner of her mouth and reached down to lace their fingers together.
"Still want me to stay away?"
She met his dancing blue eyes and felt more of her carefully constructed walls coming down. "Yes," she sullenly muttered.
Sark's gaze darted down to their hands and he whistled softly.
Against her will, Sydney felt the corners of her mouth breaking into a grin. She sighed. He was hopeless.
* * *
The ground-floor apartment Sark brought her to was surprisingly simple.
"It's not mine," he said, off her incredulous look. "It belongs to. . . a friend. I've been given use of it to store a few of my belongings."
She tore her eyes away from the disturbingly familiar layer of interior decorating and watched as he moved what looked like a very heavy picture aside. Behind it rested a safe.
Feeling her gaze, he shook his head slightly. "Do you mind?"
Shocked, and slightly humored by the question, she obligingly turned around and waited until she heard it open before moving. He held a small black box in his left hand and closed the safe with his right, setting the picture back up with ease. Sark beckoned her over to the window seat and indicated that she should sit down.
Sydney did, eyebrows raised in askance. He seemed to be weighing the box in his hand, but she knew enough about him that Sark often did one thing while working on another. He wasn't really interested in the weight of the box, rather, he was probably deciding what to do with it.
Abruptly, he handed it to her. The movement both shocked and startled her, for it was out of character for him to move so choppily, and give up his prize without a fight. She took it curiously, wondering what was inside. The intensity of his stare was starting to give her the chills and so, without speaking, she lifted the lid.
It was the ring.
The stone embedded in the platinum was a shocking fuchsia color--the exact shade of her hair that night so long ago in a smoky club when things had seemed so much simpler. Just days before her life had taken one of many earth-shattering changes.
Startled, she jerked her head up to find him watching her and she knew. He had bought the ring, made it, had it done--whatever--and thought of her. The fact alone was unsettling. The realization itself would take days to kick in. And the true impact wouldn't hit her for another month or so.
"I guess I should be thanking you right about now," she said, powerless to tear her gaze away from the bright colored stone. His fingers came into view and gently tugged the ring away, where she followed their trail to her left hand, as he fit it on her shaking hand. It tugged once over her knuckle, then slid smoothly down to rest at the base of her finger, looking for all in the world like it belonged there.
She was shaken to see that it fit her so well, and to find that she was unable to keep from lifting her hand to the light and admiring the cut. "It's beautiful."
Sark, who hadn't taken his gaze off her for a moment, and was watching her enchantment with the ring, replied, "I expected nothing less." For god's sake, why had all those men in her life screwed up so badly? All she needed was a little attention and she simply glowed.
He plucked her hand out of the air and tangled his fingers comfortably with hers. Her pulse jumped slightly against his wrist and he inwardly smiled. He led her to the door and they walked outside, trying to forget the severity of the moment that had just passed. He gently swung their joined hands together, loosening her gait and easing the tension out of her shoulders.
"You know, for someone who doesn't do this sort of thing every day, I've got to hand it to you; I was totally convinced you wanted to marry me back there."
She'd put her sunglasses on against the brightness and he found it disappointing that he could no longer read her eyes. "Of course I do." She stilled abruptly at the admission and he gamely tugged her along, planting a kiss to her temple. "Come on, love. Let's go for a drive until you get this sorted out."
* * *
And so they were driving again.
She sat silently in her seat, listening as the wind rushed through the car, having little regard for the state her hair would be in when she eventually got out. Her attention was still fastened on the ring on her left hand and he had to congratulate himself on purchasing the stone nearly four years ago.
\\\Sark had left the nightclub with a day's worth of freedom between the next assignment from Irina. They no longer had Tippin in their custody, but he was going to get him from CIA custody in less 24 hours and Irina knew of what importance he placed upon personal time. She'd told him to be back well after dark and that he needn't worry about things until then.
So he'd done something he rarely allowed himself to do. He wandered. Without a purpose, without any set location in mind. Just. . . walked. His footsteps led him to a particularly ornate jewelry display, with gems of various shades and colors. He had been all but ready to leave when a pink stone nearly hiding in the back, caught his attention.
Five minutes later, he'd had it removed from the dull gold setting and was the proud owner of what was classified as crimson tanzanite. While tanzanite, always a purple-blue in color, was somewhat of a rarity, it came nowhere near the scarcity of the red variation. It was a striking stone, and not knowing why, he'd purchased it purely on a whim.
Later, when he got home, he'd given it closer consideration and froze in shock. He'd bought it because it reminded him of Sydney. Whom he'd met all of once, and seen a handful of times. He knew she was Irina's daughter, and knew (at least vaguely) about her. But that didn't explain why she'd influenced his choice in buying a precious stone more exceptional than diamonds.
That night, as he stood on the end of the nearby docks, fully prepared to throw it away, he opened the box again and stared at it. Settled gently against the black velvet it sparkled like fire in the moonlight. Sark shivered against the wind and set it back in his pocket.
He would not be getting rid of it.
Of that much, he was certain.///
So it was of little consequence, after he'd carried their charade a few steps forward and deduced that Sydney would need some form of ring, that he'd taken it back to the same jeweler and had it set in platinum. It fit her perfectly and defied the viewer to take their eyes away from it.
So far, it had worked. Sydney couldn't tear her eyes away. But her body was still rigid with questions and he knew he had to answer at least a few of them.
"We're going to rest tonight. There is a house outside of Paris that I had originally intended to take you to. I hadn't prepared for a side- trip. . . but it seems to have worked out for the best." She met his eyes with what could only be described as a deer in the headlights look. For some reason, she'd been completely different after receiving the ring.
Not wanting to dwell on such things, he continued, "We'll spend a few days there. Simon spoke to me about a new job he thought you'd be interested in. It's your decision whether or not you take it, but we will have to start planting tangible evidence of our relationship for the past two years. He has questions, and you'll need to be prepared to answer them."
She nodded mutely and lifted her eyes to the road. Sark attempted eye contact, slightly annoyed when she refused to meet his gaze. She sighed once, quietly, and then closed her eyes.
To his utter amazement, she fell asleep.
* * *
Thoughts?
Quick side note: this has been driving me nuts, so I just want to point out this important fact: Sark bought the *STONE* almost four years ago. NOT THE RING. HE HAD THE RING MADE AFTER SYDNEY WENT BACK TO THE STATES WITH VAUGHN. Ahem. Sorry. Didn't mean to yell, there.