Deceive Part Eight
When Sydney declined dinner again, Sark didn't push it. Instead, he personally led her to her room and made sure she was settled. She gave him the oddest of looks before saying goodnight and closing the door.
Security cameras showed that she hadn't left her room--via windows or doors- -the entire night. Not that a person of her skill couldn't have found ways around that, but Sark was fairly certain that she was too shell-shocked to go anywhere.
He took his breakfast early in the office, and gave the impression of waiting for her when she finally came down mid-morning. In actuality, she wasn't the only one thinking about last night. He was having trouble wrapping his mind around a father he'd never known and that Sydney had been the one to kill him.
--Julia, that was.
Julia, the same Julia he was engaged to.
Talk about a snafu.
Why on earth hadn't he done research before hashing out this insane plan? Why hadn't he paid more attention to the things he'd said to Simon?
Sark looked up and took in Sydney's wet hair, white robe and rested face.
Oh yeah. That was why.
He cleared his throat. She looked up from the pattern she was tracing on the table.
"Good morning," Sydney said softly, sipping at her mug of what he presumed to be coffee.
Sark nodded minutely. "You slept well?"
"Enough."
"Good. Simon has moved up the timetable. The CIA may know where we're headed. We leave in an hour."
She set her mug down and opened her mouth to protest but he was already walking away. She sighed heavily and finished her food in silence, then looked for somewhere to dump out her tea.
Damn the man for not putting sinks in his kitchen.
Sydney left her plate on the table and headed for her room. On the way she found an open window.
She hurled the mug as far as she could.
Enough was enough. She was switching back to coffee.
The plane ride was silent. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep while Sark worked on his laptop.
"Sydney," he began, promoting her to flinch slightly, "We're going to have to talk."
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. She could do this. "Okay."
"Simon is expecting... Julia. Are you ready to--"
"My stuff is in the back."
"You should probably--"
So much for that talk. "Right."
When she returned, his laptop was gone and he sat staring out the window. He didn't look as she sat down and folded her hands. It was only once they had landed did Sark tear his gaze away.
Julia's transformation was complete.
The long brown twisted and braided hair fell to her waist. She wore black tactical gear with a diagonally cut neckline.
He looked amused at her thick sweater. "Will you be warm enough?"
She'd spend the entire plane ride getting into her character. "Of course. I've got you, right baby?" she smirked, letting her eyes roam over him boldly.
Sark worked very hard to keep his jaw from dropping open. She trailed her over his chest and cupped his cheek briefly. Inches away, she let him read the challenge issued in her eyes before spinning around and exiting the plane.
He was staring after her, rooted to the spot.
Why on earth had he thought that Julia would be easier to handle than Sydney?
She was talking to Javier when he finally came out. The plane took off again almost immediately, leaving them stranded. That had been per his instructions--to give the impression of trusting Simon--or letting the other man think he was in charge. The truth of the matter was, whenever Sark worked, he was always the boss.
This time wasn't any different.
Speaking of Simon...
Sark methodically scanned the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There. Something had just flashed by the nearby transport. He drew out his gun and aimed carefully. Perfect shot. The tire blew out and the 4x4 sank like an elephant on bended knee.
Sark wasn't concerned about the vehicle, though. He'd been watching for movement. Sure enough, Simon jumped out from behind, brushing off his suit.
"What the bloody hell are you trying to do, mate?!"
By now, everyone was watching. Sydney walked over to stand next to Sark, who was suddenly overcome with possessiveness and rested his hand on her hip. Somewhere between her 15-minute changing session he had taken the opportunity to change as well, and also wore a matching set of black gear. The effect was like a direct blow to the gut and Simon faltered for a moment, seeing them together.
"I thought I saw some something shifty." His chin lifted defiantly as he stared the shorter man down. "I s'pose not. How fortunate that you have a spare."
Simon looked mad enough to gun both of them down right there. "You're out of your sodding mind!"
Sydney left his side and went to Simon, putting a hand on his arm to pacify him. "He's just fooling around, he didn't mean it." She glared back at Sark, who winked at her.
"Sure," he snarled, throwing off her hand. "Whatever you say, Babe."
"Simon," she quietly murmured, steel lacing her tone.
He stopped and looked back at her. There were times like this, when things just didn't fit the profile of the Julia he'd known. Times when he'd been with her, and she seemed like another person altogether.
Simon took a deep breath and smiled charmingly. "I don't know what you see in him, Babe," quiet enough that only they could hear, "he's a bit of a jerk, hmm?"
Just another show of testosterone, rearing its ugly head. She smirked. "Maybe, but he's my arrogant jerk."
He watched as she automatically sought out Sark from the crowd and blew him a kiss. The sunlight caught her ring and he noted with a hint of curiosity in his voice, "So I see you got a the ring, then."
Sydney admired her left hand. "Nice, isn't it?"
"If that's what you go for," he muttered.
"It is," she replied, walking away.
Sark obligingly received her into his arms and leaned down to whisper, "You're amazing."
"Thanks," Sydney's eyes sparkled teasingly, a hint of her determined Bristow genes lurking in the back.
Sark glanced over at Simon, who was watching them intently. He grinned at the other man and ducked his head to kiss her soundly.
Still not used to his quicksilver moods, it took Sydney a moment to regroup. Then she dropped her fingers into the collar of his turtleneck and traced the skin there. He responded by trying to gain access to her mouth.
Startled, her eyes flew open and she bit down on his tongue.
Like he'd swallowed acid, Sark pulled back immediately. "You bit me!"
"You tried to stick your tongue into my mouth!"
She really did look amazing when she was all righteously indignant. He would have to get her this way more often. "Maybe Julia likes it," he spat at her.
"Maybe I don't."
Unable to help it, he suddenly started laughing. Eyes wide, Sydney couldn't help but stare. While she blinked in astonishment, Sark took the opportunity to once again settle his hand on her hip, his fingers skimming dangerously close to her breast.
He leaned down. "I could really justify falling in love with you, Sydney Bristow."
Her body stiffened in shock and the air went out of her in a big whoosh. She left him to get inside the Hummer.
Simon ambled over as the rest of the team followed her. "What was that all about?"
"I'm not quite certain. I only told her that her mother RSVP'd to the reception." Sark's eyes remained on the path she'd taken. "Honestly, she really is so hard to predict," he lied easily.
He headed after her, leaving Simon alone on the tarmac.
Something was going on with those two. And he was determined to find out.
"The Covenant has determined that there are documents hidden by a fairly reliable source inside the caves. The last transmission indicates the more south west cavern--which I believe you are both familiar with--and it should be the usual smash and grab job. Once you're in, we'll be radio silent as the frequency could badly disturb the ice, and send it crashing down on you."
Simon paused in his speech to glance at the two. Even though space was at a premium, the rest of his team had chosen to squeeze in on the other side of the aircraft. Then there were Sark and Julia. They were seated next to each other, pressed together closely from the shoulder to the ankle. He imagined it wasn't all that uncomfortable, and then saw the threat in Sark's eyes.
Hiding a smile behind a hand, Simon coughed and returned to the plans. "We'll drop you off here, and regroup to pick you up further down the line. It looks to be small window of 10 minutes, but I'm sure you can accomplish it."
Sydney kept her eyes trained on the plans that were resting on her lap while Sark got up to talk to Simon.
"Is there anything else we should know?"
He appeared to be considering the matter. "Not really." Simon shrugged and glanced over where Sydney was still prepping. He stepped away and moved towards the cockpit, muttering under his breath, "Nothing you can't figure out, anyway."
Sark's eyes narrowed after him. He just barely missed being flattened against the wall as the rest of the team unexpectedly moved into another compartment of the airliner. That was strange. Something was up.
Simon waltzed back in just as he was about to get Sydney's attention. "You two seem to be very comfortable with the mission. Why don't you give me those plans, babe," he all but snatched them out of Sydney's hands.
She set her jaw with a small fire banked in her eyes and stood up. "C'mon, Simon. I wasn't done with those yet."
"Yes, I think you are."
Sydney opened her mouth again to speak and saw Sark twitching oddly. She gave him a disbelieving look. Simon had just taken away her intel and all he could do was stand there and... wait a minute. He wasn't twitching, he was--
"Have a nice trip, Babe!"
And quite suddenly, she wasn't worrying about Sark or where he was standing, or what he was doing. She wasn't worried about that at all.
Because the floor had just disappeared.
She felt him latch onto her as they fell faster to the frozen tundra. While her mind was working overtime on a safe landing, how unbelievably cold it was at that moment, and just what the hell Simon was up to, it didn't fail to escape her when he managed to get his other arm around her and lower his mouth to her ear.
"I was telling you to get the bloody parachute, woman!"
"Well, how was I supposed to know that?! It looked like you had developed this hideous tic to your left eye!"
And they were still falling. Fast, and hard, and their landing was sure to be uncomfortable. He struggled to enclose her even further and tugged her directly against the line of his body. "We do it this way and lessen the impact."
She didn't have time to argue because the white jumped up to meet them.
The next time she opened her eyes, the world was upside-down.
"Oh god. Sark. Sark," she reached around for him and was met with nothing. Why was the ground moving? "Oh my god, I think I'm paralyzed. Or dead."
A dry chuckle informed her that she was very much alive. "I doubt that. By some odd twist of fate, we managed to land on a rather high snowdrift. It broke our fall, as I suspected, and we merely rolled to safety. I think you're all right, except for a possible minor concussion. But you've already gone to sleep, so I guess the brain damage is eminent."
She still couldn't see him, but swung a fist through the air. 'Where the hell was he?! And why the hell was everything upside-down?!'
Judging from his responding snicker, she'd said that last part out loud.
"Sydney, be a dear and look down. As far as you can."
More white. White and ice and the same old--wait. That was black. Black didn't exist in the caves. Not here. In fact, the only two black things here should be herself and--"Put me down!!"
No wonder it felt so familiar.
Sark smirked to himself. "I very much doubt that would be a wise idea. If you are suffering from a concussion, your sense of direction is severely impaired and I'd bet quite a bit of money that you probably can't even walk in a straight line."
"Put. Me. Down."
"No, I don't think I will."
She lifted her leg, preparing to kick him. His free hand came up and rested on the small of her back. It was strangely intimate and shocked her from further action.
"We've been through this already, you know. I almost feel as if we're stuck in a very bad story with no way out. You'd think there would be more originality than the recycling of the same ideas..." He tsked to himself.
Sydney shook her head in incredulity and abruptly wished she hadn't. It pounded with an ache that reminded her of the time she'd went through a tequila phase with Francie and--that made her head hurt even more, so she just stopped thinking.
Sark stopped and her head whip-lashed with the sudden movement.
"Ow."
He rolled his eyes even though he knew she couldn't see. "Excuse me, darling, for not taking more precautions to see to it that you are not in any pain whatsoever. Being the heroic fiancé that I am, taking the brunt of our fall, and carrying your not-quite lightweight--though decidedly gorgeous--self around the freezing expanse of these damned caves; I must have forgotten that you would be in a lot of pain with any unexpected stops. I guess we should have gone through that hole in the ice, after all. At least you would be weightless then."
Sydney half-heartedly pinched him on the butt, and rolled when he dropped her in shock. She scrambled off the ice and pulled herself up. "God, it's cold."
Sark looked at her with amusement. "Thank you, Agent Obvious." Before she could so much as open her mouth to reply, he ran a light hand over her face, pausing above her right cheekbone. It stung, and she hissed in pain. "You've a couple of small cuts," his gaze traveled clinically over the rest of her, "but if you're feeling well enough, we should keep moving."
His assessment bothered her. Determined not to let it show, she tilted her chin up at him and ignored the waves of pain to reply, "Lead the way."
They'd barely gotten two steps when she collapsed on the ice.
Sark looked heavenward and leaned down to scoop her up. She rested comfortably in his arms with her head on his shoulder.
"Don't you dare say 'I told you so'," she warned, pouting.
He brushed his lips to her temple, unable to hide his amusement when she shivered. "I wouldn't dream of it."
They found the site easily after that. Almost too easily. It was a near mirror position of where they'd met before at--no, screw that. It wasn't a mirror image. Because it was the site where they'd been.
"Sark," she hesitantly began, automatically looking to the spot where she'd fallen below the ice before Dixon had pulled her out. Across from them was the hallway he'd stepped out, ready to take her down to get the music box.
Gently, like a man in a trance, he set her down and walked over. Nearly three years later, and there were still marks from where he'd fired wildly, aiming for nothing after she'd thrown the ice pick in his leg. Sark swallowed back the bile in his mouth and turned back to her.
She was also staring, but now at the small platform where the box had been. Instead of the sheaf of papers they'd been sent to retrieve was empty space. There was nothing here.
"Do you think we took a wrong turn?" he asked against his better judgment.
If it wouldn't have sent her into a bad case of the dry heaves, Sydney would have firmly shaken her head. "No. You don't make mistakes like that, Sark and I--" her voice faltered as she remembered what had transpired on the aircraft before they'd been thrown into thin air, remembered that vicious gleam in Simon's eye, "I studied those plans for a long time. At least long enough to know where we had to be even if I am concussed."
He noted that she wasn't even aware of admitting more than the perfunctory details about his work habits and smiled. So he was breaching those defenses. And here he thought Michael Vaughn had left him with a whole fortress to scale.
"Why are you smiling like that when there's a very real possibility that we could be stuck in here forever?"
"I have no intention of getting stuck in here. Frankly, there are too many memories attached and I, for one, am in no real hurry to create new ones in their place."
She snorted, simultaneously lifting a hand to her head in pain. "And they said it would never happen." When he raised a brow in response, she added, "You, my partner in freezing-cold crime, have just turned nostalgic on me."
The look of revulsion and disgust on his face had her grinning. "Don't do that. It's not a joking matter. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."
"Mmm hmm," Sydney murmured noncommittally, bracing a hand against the wall as she began to move slowly. Thank god for gloves. She'd forgotten just how cold it was here. After a few moments, even she couldn't hide just how cold she was. At least last time she'd had a snow parka on.
Sark, who was watching this from a safe distance away, sighed in defeat. She looked pitiful. "Sydney, come here."
"No."
He got up and put his hands on her shoulders. "Come on. We've got to conserve body heat and all that."
Sark sat back down and tugged her onto his lap. He noticed her grin. While tucking her gloves into her sleeves and making sure her boots were properly secured, he asked, "And what is so funny?"
"'And all that'," she quoted, unable to stifle a few giggles at his expense. He rolled his eyes exasperatedly, and moved until she could rest her head on his shoulder. When they got out of this, he would definitely be checking for brain damage and hypothermia, among other things.
"No sleeping. If you close your eyes, I will have to think of ways to keep you awake that don't involve icicles down the front of your shirt."
Sydney stiffened in outrage. "You wouldn't."
"I'd do whatever it took to keep you alive."
She got up again and started to pace. Well, she really wobbled more than anything because she still wasn't quite steady on her feet, but it was the intention of pacing that counted.
"How long do you think we're here for, anyway?"
He let his eyes shut. "Not very long. Simon's done this for a reason, though I'm not yet certain if it was a very primitive attempt to teach us a lesson, or something else."
"Hey."
When he opened his eyes, her face was less than two inches away. "Don't go to sleep."
Sark closed his eyes again. "Empty threats don't frighten me."
"--Or I'll have to shove ice down your pants."
Sark's eyes flew open and he met her smirk with a slight one of his own. "Touché."
By now she was crouched at the base of the stand in the center of the cave, scrutinizing it carefully.
"Sydney, what are you doing?"
She gestured for him to be quiet as she removed her left glove and traced the faint etchings in the ice. "Sark, I think you'd better take a look at this."
"I'm really quite comfortable here."
Sydney glared at him.
Making a big production of it, he slowly ambled over. "If I wasn't so tired, I would not be doing this."
"Shh." She grabbed his still-gloved hand and guided him to the engraving. "Do you feel that?"
Frowning, he leaned down closer. 0 . Sark resisted the urge to thunk his head against the stand. "Unbelievable. You must be a Rambaldi magnet."
"Thanks a lot," she sarcastically replied. "In case you missed the memo, I'm not so fond of the guy, either."
Sark stopped looking at the ice and preferred instead the sight of Sydney's eyes. "No. I don't suppose you are."
Unnerved again at his mood change, she stood up and placed her hand on the ice for support. "Cold," she hissed, jerking her hand away.
"May I remind you that you're the one who took the glove off?"
She smiled sweetly at him, both of them knowing she was picturing him undergoing some obscure form of torture. "You just did."
"I see Agent Obvious has not yet left our presence."
"Get a grip, Sark." She pushed away from the ice and started walking around.
He counted exactly a minute and eight seconds before she started speaking again; this time with gestures.
"I just don't get it. If our cover's blown, then why not just kill us? Why stick us in the middle of Siberia with no way out? Why--"
Sark only had a split second when he saw the glow emanate from the ring. "Sydney, don't!"
She stopped in mid-rant, but he moved quicker and had tackled them both to the cold floor before his battered body and her concussed head could complain.
Two seconds later, the ice shattered where she'd been standing to reveal cold, murky water.
"What the hell..." Sydney breathed, looking from the ice, to Sark, and then finally at her ring, where the glow was just fading.
Sark opened his mouth to answer her but he never got a chance, as the ice at their backs abruptly exploded.
If Sydney's character seems a little off to you, remember. She's slipping in and out of her alias (Julia, in this case).
When Sydney declined dinner again, Sark didn't push it. Instead, he personally led her to her room and made sure she was settled. She gave him the oddest of looks before saying goodnight and closing the door.
Security cameras showed that she hadn't left her room--via windows or doors- -the entire night. Not that a person of her skill couldn't have found ways around that, but Sark was fairly certain that she was too shell-shocked to go anywhere.
He took his breakfast early in the office, and gave the impression of waiting for her when she finally came down mid-morning. In actuality, she wasn't the only one thinking about last night. He was having trouble wrapping his mind around a father he'd never known and that Sydney had been the one to kill him.
--Julia, that was.
Julia, the same Julia he was engaged to.
Talk about a snafu.
Why on earth hadn't he done research before hashing out this insane plan? Why hadn't he paid more attention to the things he'd said to Simon?
Sark looked up and took in Sydney's wet hair, white robe and rested face.
Oh yeah. That was why.
He cleared his throat. She looked up from the pattern she was tracing on the table.
"Good morning," Sydney said softly, sipping at her mug of what he presumed to be coffee.
Sark nodded minutely. "You slept well?"
"Enough."
"Good. Simon has moved up the timetable. The CIA may know where we're headed. We leave in an hour."
She set her mug down and opened her mouth to protest but he was already walking away. She sighed heavily and finished her food in silence, then looked for somewhere to dump out her tea.
Damn the man for not putting sinks in his kitchen.
Sydney left her plate on the table and headed for her room. On the way she found an open window.
She hurled the mug as far as she could.
Enough was enough. She was switching back to coffee.
The plane ride was silent. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep while Sark worked on his laptop.
"Sydney," he began, promoting her to flinch slightly, "We're going to have to talk."
Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. She could do this. "Okay."
"Simon is expecting... Julia. Are you ready to--"
"My stuff is in the back."
"You should probably--"
So much for that talk. "Right."
When she returned, his laptop was gone and he sat staring out the window. He didn't look as she sat down and folded her hands. It was only once they had landed did Sark tear his gaze away.
Julia's transformation was complete.
The long brown twisted and braided hair fell to her waist. She wore black tactical gear with a diagonally cut neckline.
He looked amused at her thick sweater. "Will you be warm enough?"
She'd spend the entire plane ride getting into her character. "Of course. I've got you, right baby?" she smirked, letting her eyes roam over him boldly.
Sark worked very hard to keep his jaw from dropping open. She trailed her over his chest and cupped his cheek briefly. Inches away, she let him read the challenge issued in her eyes before spinning around and exiting the plane.
He was staring after her, rooted to the spot.
Why on earth had he thought that Julia would be easier to handle than Sydney?
She was talking to Javier when he finally came out. The plane took off again almost immediately, leaving them stranded. That had been per his instructions--to give the impression of trusting Simon--or letting the other man think he was in charge. The truth of the matter was, whenever Sark worked, he was always the boss.
This time wasn't any different.
Speaking of Simon...
Sark methodically scanned the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. There. Something had just flashed by the nearby transport. He drew out his gun and aimed carefully. Perfect shot. The tire blew out and the 4x4 sank like an elephant on bended knee.
Sark wasn't concerned about the vehicle, though. He'd been watching for movement. Sure enough, Simon jumped out from behind, brushing off his suit.
"What the bloody hell are you trying to do, mate?!"
By now, everyone was watching. Sydney walked over to stand next to Sark, who was suddenly overcome with possessiveness and rested his hand on her hip. Somewhere between her 15-minute changing session he had taken the opportunity to change as well, and also wore a matching set of black gear. The effect was like a direct blow to the gut and Simon faltered for a moment, seeing them together.
"I thought I saw some something shifty." His chin lifted defiantly as he stared the shorter man down. "I s'pose not. How fortunate that you have a spare."
Simon looked mad enough to gun both of them down right there. "You're out of your sodding mind!"
Sydney left his side and went to Simon, putting a hand on his arm to pacify him. "He's just fooling around, he didn't mean it." She glared back at Sark, who winked at her.
"Sure," he snarled, throwing off her hand. "Whatever you say, Babe."
"Simon," she quietly murmured, steel lacing her tone.
He stopped and looked back at her. There were times like this, when things just didn't fit the profile of the Julia he'd known. Times when he'd been with her, and she seemed like another person altogether.
Simon took a deep breath and smiled charmingly. "I don't know what you see in him, Babe," quiet enough that only they could hear, "he's a bit of a jerk, hmm?"
Just another show of testosterone, rearing its ugly head. She smirked. "Maybe, but he's my arrogant jerk."
He watched as she automatically sought out Sark from the crowd and blew him a kiss. The sunlight caught her ring and he noted with a hint of curiosity in his voice, "So I see you got a the ring, then."
Sydney admired her left hand. "Nice, isn't it?"
"If that's what you go for," he muttered.
"It is," she replied, walking away.
Sark obligingly received her into his arms and leaned down to whisper, "You're amazing."
"Thanks," Sydney's eyes sparkled teasingly, a hint of her determined Bristow genes lurking in the back.
Sark glanced over at Simon, who was watching them intently. He grinned at the other man and ducked his head to kiss her soundly.
Still not used to his quicksilver moods, it took Sydney a moment to regroup. Then she dropped her fingers into the collar of his turtleneck and traced the skin there. He responded by trying to gain access to her mouth.
Startled, her eyes flew open and she bit down on his tongue.
Like he'd swallowed acid, Sark pulled back immediately. "You bit me!"
"You tried to stick your tongue into my mouth!"
She really did look amazing when she was all righteously indignant. He would have to get her this way more often. "Maybe Julia likes it," he spat at her.
"Maybe I don't."
Unable to help it, he suddenly started laughing. Eyes wide, Sydney couldn't help but stare. While she blinked in astonishment, Sark took the opportunity to once again settle his hand on her hip, his fingers skimming dangerously close to her breast.
He leaned down. "I could really justify falling in love with you, Sydney Bristow."
Her body stiffened in shock and the air went out of her in a big whoosh. She left him to get inside the Hummer.
Simon ambled over as the rest of the team followed her. "What was that all about?"
"I'm not quite certain. I only told her that her mother RSVP'd to the reception." Sark's eyes remained on the path she'd taken. "Honestly, she really is so hard to predict," he lied easily.
He headed after her, leaving Simon alone on the tarmac.
Something was going on with those two. And he was determined to find out.
"The Covenant has determined that there are documents hidden by a fairly reliable source inside the caves. The last transmission indicates the more south west cavern--which I believe you are both familiar with--and it should be the usual smash and grab job. Once you're in, we'll be radio silent as the frequency could badly disturb the ice, and send it crashing down on you."
Simon paused in his speech to glance at the two. Even though space was at a premium, the rest of his team had chosen to squeeze in on the other side of the aircraft. Then there were Sark and Julia. They were seated next to each other, pressed together closely from the shoulder to the ankle. He imagined it wasn't all that uncomfortable, and then saw the threat in Sark's eyes.
Hiding a smile behind a hand, Simon coughed and returned to the plans. "We'll drop you off here, and regroup to pick you up further down the line. It looks to be small window of 10 minutes, but I'm sure you can accomplish it."
Sydney kept her eyes trained on the plans that were resting on her lap while Sark got up to talk to Simon.
"Is there anything else we should know?"
He appeared to be considering the matter. "Not really." Simon shrugged and glanced over where Sydney was still prepping. He stepped away and moved towards the cockpit, muttering under his breath, "Nothing you can't figure out, anyway."
Sark's eyes narrowed after him. He just barely missed being flattened against the wall as the rest of the team unexpectedly moved into another compartment of the airliner. That was strange. Something was up.
Simon waltzed back in just as he was about to get Sydney's attention. "You two seem to be very comfortable with the mission. Why don't you give me those plans, babe," he all but snatched them out of Sydney's hands.
She set her jaw with a small fire banked in her eyes and stood up. "C'mon, Simon. I wasn't done with those yet."
"Yes, I think you are."
Sydney opened her mouth again to speak and saw Sark twitching oddly. She gave him a disbelieving look. Simon had just taken away her intel and all he could do was stand there and... wait a minute. He wasn't twitching, he was--
"Have a nice trip, Babe!"
And quite suddenly, she wasn't worrying about Sark or where he was standing, or what he was doing. She wasn't worried about that at all.
Because the floor had just disappeared.
She felt him latch onto her as they fell faster to the frozen tundra. While her mind was working overtime on a safe landing, how unbelievably cold it was at that moment, and just what the hell Simon was up to, it didn't fail to escape her when he managed to get his other arm around her and lower his mouth to her ear.
"I was telling you to get the bloody parachute, woman!"
"Well, how was I supposed to know that?! It looked like you had developed this hideous tic to your left eye!"
And they were still falling. Fast, and hard, and their landing was sure to be uncomfortable. He struggled to enclose her even further and tugged her directly against the line of his body. "We do it this way and lessen the impact."
She didn't have time to argue because the white jumped up to meet them.
The next time she opened her eyes, the world was upside-down.
"Oh god. Sark. Sark," she reached around for him and was met with nothing. Why was the ground moving? "Oh my god, I think I'm paralyzed. Or dead."
A dry chuckle informed her that she was very much alive. "I doubt that. By some odd twist of fate, we managed to land on a rather high snowdrift. It broke our fall, as I suspected, and we merely rolled to safety. I think you're all right, except for a possible minor concussion. But you've already gone to sleep, so I guess the brain damage is eminent."
She still couldn't see him, but swung a fist through the air. 'Where the hell was he?! And why the hell was everything upside-down?!'
Judging from his responding snicker, she'd said that last part out loud.
"Sydney, be a dear and look down. As far as you can."
More white. White and ice and the same old--wait. That was black. Black didn't exist in the caves. Not here. In fact, the only two black things here should be herself and--"Put me down!!"
No wonder it felt so familiar.
Sark smirked to himself. "I very much doubt that would be a wise idea. If you are suffering from a concussion, your sense of direction is severely impaired and I'd bet quite a bit of money that you probably can't even walk in a straight line."
"Put. Me. Down."
"No, I don't think I will."
She lifted her leg, preparing to kick him. His free hand came up and rested on the small of her back. It was strangely intimate and shocked her from further action.
"We've been through this already, you know. I almost feel as if we're stuck in a very bad story with no way out. You'd think there would be more originality than the recycling of the same ideas..." He tsked to himself.
Sydney shook her head in incredulity and abruptly wished she hadn't. It pounded with an ache that reminded her of the time she'd went through a tequila phase with Francie and--that made her head hurt even more, so she just stopped thinking.
Sark stopped and her head whip-lashed with the sudden movement.
"Ow."
He rolled his eyes even though he knew she couldn't see. "Excuse me, darling, for not taking more precautions to see to it that you are not in any pain whatsoever. Being the heroic fiancé that I am, taking the brunt of our fall, and carrying your not-quite lightweight--though decidedly gorgeous--self around the freezing expanse of these damned caves; I must have forgotten that you would be in a lot of pain with any unexpected stops. I guess we should have gone through that hole in the ice, after all. At least you would be weightless then."
Sydney half-heartedly pinched him on the butt, and rolled when he dropped her in shock. She scrambled off the ice and pulled herself up. "God, it's cold."
Sark looked at her with amusement. "Thank you, Agent Obvious." Before she could so much as open her mouth to reply, he ran a light hand over her face, pausing above her right cheekbone. It stung, and she hissed in pain. "You've a couple of small cuts," his gaze traveled clinically over the rest of her, "but if you're feeling well enough, we should keep moving."
His assessment bothered her. Determined not to let it show, she tilted her chin up at him and ignored the waves of pain to reply, "Lead the way."
They'd barely gotten two steps when she collapsed on the ice.
Sark looked heavenward and leaned down to scoop her up. She rested comfortably in his arms with her head on his shoulder.
"Don't you dare say 'I told you so'," she warned, pouting.
He brushed his lips to her temple, unable to hide his amusement when she shivered. "I wouldn't dream of it."
They found the site easily after that. Almost too easily. It was a near mirror position of where they'd met before at--no, screw that. It wasn't a mirror image. Because it was the site where they'd been.
"Sark," she hesitantly began, automatically looking to the spot where she'd fallen below the ice before Dixon had pulled her out. Across from them was the hallway he'd stepped out, ready to take her down to get the music box.
Gently, like a man in a trance, he set her down and walked over. Nearly three years later, and there were still marks from where he'd fired wildly, aiming for nothing after she'd thrown the ice pick in his leg. Sark swallowed back the bile in his mouth and turned back to her.
She was also staring, but now at the small platform where the box had been. Instead of the sheaf of papers they'd been sent to retrieve was empty space. There was nothing here.
"Do you think we took a wrong turn?" he asked against his better judgment.
If it wouldn't have sent her into a bad case of the dry heaves, Sydney would have firmly shaken her head. "No. You don't make mistakes like that, Sark and I--" her voice faltered as she remembered what had transpired on the aircraft before they'd been thrown into thin air, remembered that vicious gleam in Simon's eye, "I studied those plans for a long time. At least long enough to know where we had to be even if I am concussed."
He noted that she wasn't even aware of admitting more than the perfunctory details about his work habits and smiled. So he was breaching those defenses. And here he thought Michael Vaughn had left him with a whole fortress to scale.
"Why are you smiling like that when there's a very real possibility that we could be stuck in here forever?"
"I have no intention of getting stuck in here. Frankly, there are too many memories attached and I, for one, am in no real hurry to create new ones in their place."
She snorted, simultaneously lifting a hand to her head in pain. "And they said it would never happen." When he raised a brow in response, she added, "You, my partner in freezing-cold crime, have just turned nostalgic on me."
The look of revulsion and disgust on his face had her grinning. "Don't do that. It's not a joking matter. I have a reputation to uphold, you know."
"Mmm hmm," Sydney murmured noncommittally, bracing a hand against the wall as she began to move slowly. Thank god for gloves. She'd forgotten just how cold it was here. After a few moments, even she couldn't hide just how cold she was. At least last time she'd had a snow parka on.
Sark, who was watching this from a safe distance away, sighed in defeat. She looked pitiful. "Sydney, come here."
"No."
He got up and put his hands on her shoulders. "Come on. We've got to conserve body heat and all that."
Sark sat back down and tugged her onto his lap. He noticed her grin. While tucking her gloves into her sleeves and making sure her boots were properly secured, he asked, "And what is so funny?"
"'And all that'," she quoted, unable to stifle a few giggles at his expense. He rolled his eyes exasperatedly, and moved until she could rest her head on his shoulder. When they got out of this, he would definitely be checking for brain damage and hypothermia, among other things.
"No sleeping. If you close your eyes, I will have to think of ways to keep you awake that don't involve icicles down the front of your shirt."
Sydney stiffened in outrage. "You wouldn't."
"I'd do whatever it took to keep you alive."
She got up again and started to pace. Well, she really wobbled more than anything because she still wasn't quite steady on her feet, but it was the intention of pacing that counted.
"How long do you think we're here for, anyway?"
He let his eyes shut. "Not very long. Simon's done this for a reason, though I'm not yet certain if it was a very primitive attempt to teach us a lesson, or something else."
"Hey."
When he opened his eyes, her face was less than two inches away. "Don't go to sleep."
Sark closed his eyes again. "Empty threats don't frighten me."
"--Or I'll have to shove ice down your pants."
Sark's eyes flew open and he met her smirk with a slight one of his own. "Touché."
By now she was crouched at the base of the stand in the center of the cave, scrutinizing it carefully.
"Sydney, what are you doing?"
She gestured for him to be quiet as she removed her left glove and traced the faint etchings in the ice. "Sark, I think you'd better take a look at this."
"I'm really quite comfortable here."
Sydney glared at him.
Making a big production of it, he slowly ambled over. "If I wasn't so tired, I would not be doing this."
"Shh." She grabbed his still-gloved hand and guided him to the engraving. "Do you feel that?"
Frowning, he leaned down closer. 0 . Sark resisted the urge to thunk his head against the stand. "Unbelievable. You must be a Rambaldi magnet."
"Thanks a lot," she sarcastically replied. "In case you missed the memo, I'm not so fond of the guy, either."
Sark stopped looking at the ice and preferred instead the sight of Sydney's eyes. "No. I don't suppose you are."
Unnerved again at his mood change, she stood up and placed her hand on the ice for support. "Cold," she hissed, jerking her hand away.
"May I remind you that you're the one who took the glove off?"
She smiled sweetly at him, both of them knowing she was picturing him undergoing some obscure form of torture. "You just did."
"I see Agent Obvious has not yet left our presence."
"Get a grip, Sark." She pushed away from the ice and started walking around.
He counted exactly a minute and eight seconds before she started speaking again; this time with gestures.
"I just don't get it. If our cover's blown, then why not just kill us? Why stick us in the middle of Siberia with no way out? Why--"
Sark only had a split second when he saw the glow emanate from the ring. "Sydney, don't!"
She stopped in mid-rant, but he moved quicker and had tackled them both to the cold floor before his battered body and her concussed head could complain.
Two seconds later, the ice shattered where she'd been standing to reveal cold, murky water.
"What the hell..." Sydney breathed, looking from the ice, to Sark, and then finally at her ring, where the glow was just fading.
Sark opened his mouth to answer her but he never got a chance, as the ice at their backs abruptly exploded.
If Sydney's character seems a little off to you, remember. She's slipping in and out of her alias (Julia, in this case).