DECEIVE PART NINE
A/N: Okay. Let's see how this pans out. Last time we left, there were explosions everywhere. Now we'll see what happens. For those few of you who have read 'Moonlight,' you'll note the scene below.
When the ice finally stopped falling and the cave stopped shaking, Sydney decided it would be okay to chance breathing.
"Ow."
She opened her eyes to see Sark staring up at her. "Oh. Hi."
His brows lifted. "Do you mind?"
Sydney looked confused.
"It appears that you've pinned me to the ground. It's rather cold, and every breath you take presses my uncomfortably into the ice, so if it wouldn't terribly inconvenience you..."
She scrambled off him before he could finish speaking and held out her hand to help him up.
Once they steadied themselves on the ice, Sydney gripped Sark's arm tightly. "What the hell just happened?"
He began to speak and froze, looking beyond Sydney. Surprisingly, he hadn't lost his gun in the shuffle and aimed it at the ice wall.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice chided from inside the cave.
They looked across the destruction, past the gaping hole that revealed freezing cold waters, over to the far side of the cave. Simon stood, cradling an Uzi in his arms. "I hate to break up the love-fest, but if you tear down that wall, we'll all turn into popsicles."
They watched as he walked to the far edge of the ice, carefully avoiding the weak spots. "What I'd like to know is how you caused all of this. I wasn't aware you could carve out a lake with your handguns in the middle of Siberia."
"You and me both," Sydney muttered darkly, looking at the destruction they'd caused.
Sark slid an arm around her waist and reached under her sweater to pinch her skin warningly. She jumped ever so slightly and gritted her teeth.
"It was partially in shambles when we arrived," Sark answered, "and then you came in and tried to take us out."
"Now, why would I want to do that?" Simon wondered, making a big deal of thinking out loud.
Before Sark could reply, Sydney quietly asked, "Why did you drop us from the plane?"
Immediately, Simon turned to her, looking contrite. She looked so small and unsure of herself--this wasn't like the Julia he knew. It wasn't like the other facets of her he'd previously categorized, either. This was someone entirely new and she looked far too vulnerable for his liking. "That was just a communication mix-up, babe. Total mistake. I had to verify that you were with the team a hundred percent. And look, you made it okay, you're not hurt or anything."
"She has a mild concussion," Sark supplied, looking mildly furious.
The other man blanched. "I swear, I had no idea. Honestly, we were just testing the waters, so to speak."
Sark pulled her protectively closer to his side. "Perhaps it would be better to test them elsewhere."
It was a threat and one Simon seemed to recognize. "Well, here's what we'll do, then. You meet us back at the surface and we'll go to my villa in Italy. See if we can't clear things up, eh?" Confidant that his plan was going to be followed, he headed for the exit on his side of the cave.
"Simon," Sydney called after him. He stopped, but didn't turn back, which she thought was rather dangerous considering that Sark was behind him. "Did we get the papers?"
"Sure. The team got them. They were in the next chamber over. You must've taken a wrong turn somewhere, that's all."
Without waiting for a reply, he walked off and left them in the cave.
"What the hell was that?" Sydney hissed, flinging Sark's arm away from her.
Absently, he placed it back around her shoulders, walking them to the entrance he himself had walked through not so very long ago. "I'm not entirely convinced Simon believes we're being straight with him."
"I know that," she snapped, swatting at her long, icicle-encrusted hair. "I was talking about this." She held out her left hand and stared pointedly at the still faintly glowing stone in the middle.
"Ah."
" 'Ah'? That's it? Just--'Ah'?"
Sark shrugged, leading them past a particularly nasty looking stalagmite patch. "I can't tell you."
She blinked. "You can't--" Sydney stopped in her tracks. Counted to ten. Tried to remember to breathe. Sark watched her with amusement in his eyes.
"C'mon. Let's get out of here." She grabbed his hand and started dragging him along. "I'm getting claustrophobic."
He squeezed her hand reassuringly and swiftly turned them in the other direction. "We'd better head toward the exit, then."
The ride to the chopper was silent. Sydney was exhausted from trying to figure things out; she didn't understand Simon's behavior and she sure as hell couldn't make out Sark's intentions. After being dropped from a plane, crash-landing without a parachute, suffering a concussion, probably a mild case of hypothermia, not to mention, surviving the ice caves a second time; she was just beat.
So she found it very simple to slip back in the role of Sark's fiancée, enough to let her guard down to rest her head on his shoulder. His arm remained where it had been all along--around her waist, keeping her anchored to his side.
She discovered she didn't dislike it in the least, and decided to let it stay there. She closed her eyes and thought of warm places with blue-green water.
Five minutes later, when she fell asleep, Sark could breathe a lot easier. He knew for certain he could think easier.
And knew he had a lot of explaining to do.
They left the chopper and rode inside an armored transport to the airstrip, where they boarded a private jet.
Because Sydney slept through the entire transition, Sark carried her from one transport to the next. He wasn't much better off than her, suffering bruises and probably a few sprains, but when Simon would have offered to relieve him, the glare he received in return was enough to make him back off. The man was fiercely protective of her and it showed.
It remained this way until they walked into the open, sunny space of the villa's front hall. If Sark hadn't been so preoccupied with his thoughts and Sydney's safety, he probably would have taken a moment to admire the roomy layout and exquisite architecture. The place really was a work of art and even if he believed Simon to be a "two-bit" thief, the man certainly knew how to live.
Sydney stirred then, and rubbed at her eyes. She looked young, tired and incredibly vulnerable, and the knowledge that filled him was dangerous.
Still, he was the picture of tranquility as he brushed his lips over her forehead and murmured, "Go back to sleep." Like an obedient small child, she closed her eyes and leaned her head into his neck.
Simon glanced back at him in askance.
"Would you be so kind as to show me our room? I'd like to check her over for injuries."
"I can send for a doctor if you really believe--"
"That won't be necessary," he curtly replied. "Our room... please." He'd tacked that onto the end and stared steadily at Simon.
"Right." He started up the stairs. After a moment, Sark followed.
The rest of the team had dispersed by this point, leaving the two men alone as they made their way down the wide hallways. Simon opened the door at the end of the hall to reveal an open walkway, set inside a large courtyard. They walked along the perimeter of the second floor until they met another door at the end.
Simon opened it and stepped aside to let Sark pass. "You'll find the guest house beyond those stairs. I'll have food sent later."
Sark barely nodded, brushing by the shorter man with a dismissive air.
Simon watched until he was out of sight. Then he turned around and went back to the main house to think.
After giving the room a cursory bug check, Sark returned his attention to Sydney. She was lying on the bed, curled up on her side. For all the time they'd spent together in the past two weeks or so, he'd never seen her sleep. Even on the plane, she had been unconsciously fighting the drugged wine, and slept fitfully. It was a sight to behold.
She looked a completely different person. You would never know by looking at her now that she was capable of murder and mayhem and all things honorable in between. That she was proficient in over two dozen languages, skilled in six forms of martial arts, and probably able to kill a man with her bare hands, if she so chose to.
But the amazing thing was, even though she had this wealth of knowledge, even though she was an insanely strong woman--she'd lost two years of her life and returned to find it completely turned upside-down. Sark wondered if they would be in their strange partnership right now if her life had progressed normally.
He really didn't want to think about that.
The fact was, she was with him now and they were going to take down the Covenant if it took them forever. They were also going to get information on what had happened when she was Julia Thorne. And by god, he was going to plug a few bullets into Simon Walker before it was over.
If she ever woke up, that was.
Sark swallowed his impatience and sat down on the bed beside her. He could wake her up; probably should, if she had a concussion. Except she was really quite tired and he was too. The day had been far too long and all he wanted was to close his eyes and get some rest.
Just for a little bit.
The next time Sark woke, it was dark outside. It was very dark, judging from the moonlight that filtered in through the windows and French doors that led to the balcony. Those doors were now open, and the space next to him was empty--which meant Sydney was awake and thinking.
A thinking Sydney was always a dangerous thing to deal with. He carefully made his way outside and leaned against the doorframe, drinking the sight of her in.
She braced her arms on the railing and looked over the side. The silvery light painted her platinum and she all but shimmered on her own. Hearing him approach, she turned her back on her moment and met his eyes squarely.
"I didn't want to wake you--" her words were swallowed fast because he was at her side, drawing her close again and kissing her tenderly.
When they pulled away, she felt a chill come between them and she shivered.
"Cold?"
Sydney shook her head mutely.
"Let's go back to bed. We're going to need our rest to get through the next few days."
She was looking up at him with a quest in her eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
Sark shrugged. He was silent for so long, she didn't think he would answer. Finally, he said, "There are cameras in the room. We'll need to choose our actions wisely."
For some reason, it stung that he could be so blasé about whatever was happening between them. But if that was the way he wanted it, then fine.
Two could play that game.
She grinned mischievously at him and pulled him in for a smacking kiss. "That's fine, darling. Just let me know when the gig's up."
The veiled threat stood between them like a chasm.
Sydney had thrown down the gauntlet and shown that she was more than willing to play this game if that was what it took to get the answers she needed. The sparkle in her eye was partly playful, but it also hinted at what she would do if he held information from her for much longer.
Sark reached blindly for her hand and drew her back inside.
The bed was cool and inviting. They fell asleep quickly.
The next morning, Sydney felt something tugging at her finger. She ignored it and rolled over, tucking the arm underneath her. Right now, she was all about the cozy feeling of contentment and leaving those unsettling feelings from yesterday behind her. Today was a new day. She was committed to making sure it stayed that way.
Sark leaned delicately over her, his hand still attached to hers. Currently, he was struggling not to collapse on top of her or depress the bed in any movement that would wake her further.
But the fact of the matter was -- he needed that ring.
He sucked in his breath and slowly moved his hand from where it was intertwined with hers. She curled her hand into a fist. Sark cringed and tried to extricate himself from the bed gently. He would have to go around the other side.
After what seemed like an eternity, Sark had safely gotten free and was attempting to pluck the ring from where her hand rested underneath her stomach. He tilted his head sideways as if trying to attempt "speaking" to the ring by at least communicating on the same level.
That was when Sydney woke up.
"Hi," she said, biting back the monster grin that threatened to take over her face. "Can I help you?"
"How long have you been awake?" Sark crossly demanded, finally giving into muscle fatigue and sitting on the bed next to her.
"Since you started tugging at my finger." Her brows rose in a mocking gesture that was all too familiar. "Something you need to tell me? You have a secret finger fetish, maybe?"
He glared at her. "Might I perhaps borrow your ring?"
"And here I thought you were giving to me for keeps."
She watched him as he fought to hang onto his temper. This was fun.
"I promise to give it back."
Sydney looked out the window, pretending to be interested in the Italian countryside. "And why should your promises mean anything to me?" So much for letting things go.
The look on his face became shuttered.
When he didn't respond, she turned to him for an explanation. "Well?"
"Why, indeed," Sark muttered quietly, leaning back into the pillows and closing his eyes.
She had either gone too far or... he was pouting.
Sydney stole a glance at his lower lip. Yeah. It was sticking out the tiniest bit.
"You... baby."
"I'm not even going to pretend I know what you're rambling about."
She grinned, leaning over him precariously. The tips of her hair swung at his face and he batted them away. "You're such a baby. I won't give you the ring so now you're pouting. Amazing. You were an only child, weren't you?"
This was too much.
Sark's eyes flew open and he rolled over, pinning her to the bed beneath him. "And if I was?"
She giggled, tracing his lower lip playfully. "Baby."
He growled and scrubbed a hand over face. "You're an only child as well. I fail to see how you can exclude yourself in this examination."
"Simple. I was really good friends with the next-door neighbors. I can share."
Sark settled comfortably, not minding in the least that he was on top of her. "Really?"
"Yep," she said smugly.
He cocked his head to side. "Then why won't you let me borrow your ring?"
Her jaw dropped open. "That wasn't fair."
"Nice comeback."
While she was engaged in coming up with a better response, Sark busied himself by twisting the ring off her finger.
He grasped it between his fingers triumphantly and walked over to the desk. There was a small tray beside his laptop and he placed the ring on top of it. "Close your eyes," he calmly instructed.
"Wha--" was all Sydney got out before a brilliant white light flared in the room.
She blinked dazedly, feeling her way along the wall to where Sark was busily typing away. She sat in the chair next to his and tried to focus but the white spots in front of her eyes made things a bit difficult.
"You know," she began, rubbing at her eyes, "We've really got to talk about that."
"What's that?" He continued typing furiously, bypassing two firewalls effortlessly and punching through another security level.
Sydney squinted and tried to make sense of the screen. "What's that?" She asked, unconsciously echoing his words.
"Simon's a bit... paranoid. He's taken quite an extreme approach to his security configurations."
She watched quietly as he worked through two more layers of heaving coding and stared at him for a moment. "You're really something, aren't you, Sark?"
Startled, he lost his rhythm and nearly missed another set of commands. "I beg your pardon?"
She kept the grin to herself and watched as his hands flew over the keyboard.
Eventually, a blue screen came up. Sark opened the email program and typed a brief message. 'Could Alexander have misinterpreted the project assessment? Not interested as of now.' He paused momentarily, and gave her the chance to read what was on the screen.
Sydney frowned. "All that to send an email? To who?" It was a code, that much she knew. She just didn't know what it meant.
Sark typed in a few more things that too fast for her eyes to track and sent the email. He closed down the program and backed out of the security. Then he handed her back the ring, which she fitted on distractedly, still watching him.
Sark walked over to the bureau, where he found clothes for both of them. Sydney followed, hot on his heels. "Are you going to tell me who you sent that to? Or is this a new development to our partnership? Because let me tell you, I'm getting awfully tired of asking you quest--"
He put his hand over her mouth and silenced her further protestations with a look. "I sent the email to an associate of mine. That," he made a random trail of kisses along her shoulder line, "Is all you need to know."
Even though Sydney knew he was putting on a performance for the cameras that were surely in the room, even though it seemed like Sark was obsessed with her neck-line, she couldn't get past the fact that he was hiding something from her.
Something huge.
She stepped back to let him see the warning in her eyes and suddenly threw them both off balance. They fumbled their way to the bed. When her hair was curtaining them both from inquisitive eyes, she leaned down close and whispered, "You had better tell me what's going on--with everything--or I will make this trip as painful as possible." Her knee edged dangerously close to him as she fought for purchase on the bed.
Sark was only too eager to flip her over. "That goes both ways, Sydney."
He caught her mouth in a desperate kiss and refused to allow her a reply.
When they paused to gasp for breath, Sark moved to whisper in her ear. "I sent the email to you mother."
He had just enough time to slide clear of the bed.
Jack Bristow was settling in for the night when the phone rang. He wearily reached to turn the light back on.
"Don't move."
The voice was quiet but lacked none of the threat its owner possessed.
He smiled to himself and turned the light on anyway.
"Jack!"
Irina stood in the doorway, half undressed. He folded his arms and watched her appraisingly. "Did you think I wouldn't want to watch?"
She paused with her hand on one hip. And with her pants and shirt gone, it was quite an image.
"I asked you nicely."
"Since when have I ever... done what you've asked?"
Irina left the clothes piled on the floor and crawled into the bed. "Do you really need me to remind you?"
Try as he might, the smile refused to leave his face. "You know this is dangerous."
"We like dangerous."
He considered. "Yes, but--"
Irina drew the covers to her chin and closed her eyes. He stopped mid- sentence and obligingly turned out the light.
The silence had settled over them comfortably when she chose to speak. "I thought it best to bring you this news in person." The arm around her waist tightened suddenly. She laughed and laid her hand atop his. "Don't worry, she's safe."
Even though she was his wife, even though there were issues between them-- both unresolved and those that had been put to rest--he still had trouble with letting her see how much Sydney's welfare affected him. It was foolish, he knew, for no one loved their daughter more than they did, but there were times...
Jack mentally shook the thought aside. "Are you... positive?"
She stiffened, insulted. "Are saying my sources are untruthful?"
"Merely verifying," he soothed, running a hand down the length of her long hair.
Irina almost sniffed in disdain. "She's with one of my best agents. In Italy. The region of Campania."
"I thought you were working on covering a false lead for Sydney?"
"I was," she turned in his arms to face him, "But that doesn't mean I can't... multi-task."
His lips curved beneath hers. "And what else did you find?"
She paused. "Jack, my flat outside of Paris has been used. Items in the safe... have been taken."
Jack turned the light back on, ignoring the way it burned their eyes. "What are you telling me, Irina? This is not the time to play games."
"Don't you think I know that?!" Irina threw her hand down against the mattress in irritation. "I'm telling you this because I didn't think you'd respond well if it were another one of those stupid internet conversations. I abhor them. They lack any feeling whatsoever."
"What are you trying to hide from me?" His pronunciation was clipped and left no question to how he was feeling.
"Nothing." Jack watched his wife roll out of bed and gather her clothes. "This was a bad idea. I should have just followed protocol," she sneered.
Jack waited until she had turned her back to move. Before she knew what had happened, he had her arms pinned and she was wrapped in an ironic sort of lover's embrace.
"Tell me what you came here to say."
She lashed out with strength and twisted in his arms to look him in the eyes. "I'm telling you who she's with, you idiot! The only person who has the code to the flat is Sark!"
A/N: Okay. Let's see how this pans out. Last time we left, there were explosions everywhere. Now we'll see what happens. For those few of you who have read 'Moonlight,' you'll note the scene below.
When the ice finally stopped falling and the cave stopped shaking, Sydney decided it would be okay to chance breathing.
"Ow."
She opened her eyes to see Sark staring up at her. "Oh. Hi."
His brows lifted. "Do you mind?"
Sydney looked confused.
"It appears that you've pinned me to the ground. It's rather cold, and every breath you take presses my uncomfortably into the ice, so if it wouldn't terribly inconvenience you..."
She scrambled off him before he could finish speaking and held out her hand to help him up.
Once they steadied themselves on the ice, Sydney gripped Sark's arm tightly. "What the hell just happened?"
He began to speak and froze, looking beyond Sydney. Surprisingly, he hadn't lost his gun in the shuffle and aimed it at the ice wall.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," a voice chided from inside the cave.
They looked across the destruction, past the gaping hole that revealed freezing cold waters, over to the far side of the cave. Simon stood, cradling an Uzi in his arms. "I hate to break up the love-fest, but if you tear down that wall, we'll all turn into popsicles."
They watched as he walked to the far edge of the ice, carefully avoiding the weak spots. "What I'd like to know is how you caused all of this. I wasn't aware you could carve out a lake with your handguns in the middle of Siberia."
"You and me both," Sydney muttered darkly, looking at the destruction they'd caused.
Sark slid an arm around her waist and reached under her sweater to pinch her skin warningly. She jumped ever so slightly and gritted her teeth.
"It was partially in shambles when we arrived," Sark answered, "and then you came in and tried to take us out."
"Now, why would I want to do that?" Simon wondered, making a big deal of thinking out loud.
Before Sark could reply, Sydney quietly asked, "Why did you drop us from the plane?"
Immediately, Simon turned to her, looking contrite. She looked so small and unsure of herself--this wasn't like the Julia he knew. It wasn't like the other facets of her he'd previously categorized, either. This was someone entirely new and she looked far too vulnerable for his liking. "That was just a communication mix-up, babe. Total mistake. I had to verify that you were with the team a hundred percent. And look, you made it okay, you're not hurt or anything."
"She has a mild concussion," Sark supplied, looking mildly furious.
The other man blanched. "I swear, I had no idea. Honestly, we were just testing the waters, so to speak."
Sark pulled her protectively closer to his side. "Perhaps it would be better to test them elsewhere."
It was a threat and one Simon seemed to recognize. "Well, here's what we'll do, then. You meet us back at the surface and we'll go to my villa in Italy. See if we can't clear things up, eh?" Confidant that his plan was going to be followed, he headed for the exit on his side of the cave.
"Simon," Sydney called after him. He stopped, but didn't turn back, which she thought was rather dangerous considering that Sark was behind him. "Did we get the papers?"
"Sure. The team got them. They were in the next chamber over. You must've taken a wrong turn somewhere, that's all."
Without waiting for a reply, he walked off and left them in the cave.
"What the hell was that?" Sydney hissed, flinging Sark's arm away from her.
Absently, he placed it back around her shoulders, walking them to the entrance he himself had walked through not so very long ago. "I'm not entirely convinced Simon believes we're being straight with him."
"I know that," she snapped, swatting at her long, icicle-encrusted hair. "I was talking about this." She held out her left hand and stared pointedly at the still faintly glowing stone in the middle.
"Ah."
" 'Ah'? That's it? Just--'Ah'?"
Sark shrugged, leading them past a particularly nasty looking stalagmite patch. "I can't tell you."
She blinked. "You can't--" Sydney stopped in her tracks. Counted to ten. Tried to remember to breathe. Sark watched her with amusement in his eyes.
"C'mon. Let's get out of here." She grabbed his hand and started dragging him along. "I'm getting claustrophobic."
He squeezed her hand reassuringly and swiftly turned them in the other direction. "We'd better head toward the exit, then."
The ride to the chopper was silent. Sydney was exhausted from trying to figure things out; she didn't understand Simon's behavior and she sure as hell couldn't make out Sark's intentions. After being dropped from a plane, crash-landing without a parachute, suffering a concussion, probably a mild case of hypothermia, not to mention, surviving the ice caves a second time; she was just beat.
So she found it very simple to slip back in the role of Sark's fiancée, enough to let her guard down to rest her head on his shoulder. His arm remained where it had been all along--around her waist, keeping her anchored to his side.
She discovered she didn't dislike it in the least, and decided to let it stay there. She closed her eyes and thought of warm places with blue-green water.
Five minutes later, when she fell asleep, Sark could breathe a lot easier. He knew for certain he could think easier.
And knew he had a lot of explaining to do.
They left the chopper and rode inside an armored transport to the airstrip, where they boarded a private jet.
Because Sydney slept through the entire transition, Sark carried her from one transport to the next. He wasn't much better off than her, suffering bruises and probably a few sprains, but when Simon would have offered to relieve him, the glare he received in return was enough to make him back off. The man was fiercely protective of her and it showed.
It remained this way until they walked into the open, sunny space of the villa's front hall. If Sark hadn't been so preoccupied with his thoughts and Sydney's safety, he probably would have taken a moment to admire the roomy layout and exquisite architecture. The place really was a work of art and even if he believed Simon to be a "two-bit" thief, the man certainly knew how to live.
Sydney stirred then, and rubbed at her eyes. She looked young, tired and incredibly vulnerable, and the knowledge that filled him was dangerous.
Still, he was the picture of tranquility as he brushed his lips over her forehead and murmured, "Go back to sleep." Like an obedient small child, she closed her eyes and leaned her head into his neck.
Simon glanced back at him in askance.
"Would you be so kind as to show me our room? I'd like to check her over for injuries."
"I can send for a doctor if you really believe--"
"That won't be necessary," he curtly replied. "Our room... please." He'd tacked that onto the end and stared steadily at Simon.
"Right." He started up the stairs. After a moment, Sark followed.
The rest of the team had dispersed by this point, leaving the two men alone as they made their way down the wide hallways. Simon opened the door at the end of the hall to reveal an open walkway, set inside a large courtyard. They walked along the perimeter of the second floor until they met another door at the end.
Simon opened it and stepped aside to let Sark pass. "You'll find the guest house beyond those stairs. I'll have food sent later."
Sark barely nodded, brushing by the shorter man with a dismissive air.
Simon watched until he was out of sight. Then he turned around and went back to the main house to think.
After giving the room a cursory bug check, Sark returned his attention to Sydney. She was lying on the bed, curled up on her side. For all the time they'd spent together in the past two weeks or so, he'd never seen her sleep. Even on the plane, she had been unconsciously fighting the drugged wine, and slept fitfully. It was a sight to behold.
She looked a completely different person. You would never know by looking at her now that she was capable of murder and mayhem and all things honorable in between. That she was proficient in over two dozen languages, skilled in six forms of martial arts, and probably able to kill a man with her bare hands, if she so chose to.
But the amazing thing was, even though she had this wealth of knowledge, even though she was an insanely strong woman--she'd lost two years of her life and returned to find it completely turned upside-down. Sark wondered if they would be in their strange partnership right now if her life had progressed normally.
He really didn't want to think about that.
The fact was, she was with him now and they were going to take down the Covenant if it took them forever. They were also going to get information on what had happened when she was Julia Thorne. And by god, he was going to plug a few bullets into Simon Walker before it was over.
If she ever woke up, that was.
Sark swallowed his impatience and sat down on the bed beside her. He could wake her up; probably should, if she had a concussion. Except she was really quite tired and he was too. The day had been far too long and all he wanted was to close his eyes and get some rest.
Just for a little bit.
The next time Sark woke, it was dark outside. It was very dark, judging from the moonlight that filtered in through the windows and French doors that led to the balcony. Those doors were now open, and the space next to him was empty--which meant Sydney was awake and thinking.
A thinking Sydney was always a dangerous thing to deal with. He carefully made his way outside and leaned against the doorframe, drinking the sight of her in.
She braced her arms on the railing and looked over the side. The silvery light painted her platinum and she all but shimmered on her own. Hearing him approach, she turned her back on her moment and met his eyes squarely.
"I didn't want to wake you--" her words were swallowed fast because he was at her side, drawing her close again and kissing her tenderly.
When they pulled away, she felt a chill come between them and she shivered.
"Cold?"
Sydney shook her head mutely.
"Let's go back to bed. We're going to need our rest to get through the next few days."
She was looking up at him with a quest in her eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
Sark shrugged. He was silent for so long, she didn't think he would answer. Finally, he said, "There are cameras in the room. We'll need to choose our actions wisely."
For some reason, it stung that he could be so blasé about whatever was happening between them. But if that was the way he wanted it, then fine.
Two could play that game.
She grinned mischievously at him and pulled him in for a smacking kiss. "That's fine, darling. Just let me know when the gig's up."
The veiled threat stood between them like a chasm.
Sydney had thrown down the gauntlet and shown that she was more than willing to play this game if that was what it took to get the answers she needed. The sparkle in her eye was partly playful, but it also hinted at what she would do if he held information from her for much longer.
Sark reached blindly for her hand and drew her back inside.
The bed was cool and inviting. They fell asleep quickly.
The next morning, Sydney felt something tugging at her finger. She ignored it and rolled over, tucking the arm underneath her. Right now, she was all about the cozy feeling of contentment and leaving those unsettling feelings from yesterday behind her. Today was a new day. She was committed to making sure it stayed that way.
Sark leaned delicately over her, his hand still attached to hers. Currently, he was struggling not to collapse on top of her or depress the bed in any movement that would wake her further.
But the fact of the matter was -- he needed that ring.
He sucked in his breath and slowly moved his hand from where it was intertwined with hers. She curled her hand into a fist. Sark cringed and tried to extricate himself from the bed gently. He would have to go around the other side.
After what seemed like an eternity, Sark had safely gotten free and was attempting to pluck the ring from where her hand rested underneath her stomach. He tilted his head sideways as if trying to attempt "speaking" to the ring by at least communicating on the same level.
That was when Sydney woke up.
"Hi," she said, biting back the monster grin that threatened to take over her face. "Can I help you?"
"How long have you been awake?" Sark crossly demanded, finally giving into muscle fatigue and sitting on the bed next to her.
"Since you started tugging at my finger." Her brows rose in a mocking gesture that was all too familiar. "Something you need to tell me? You have a secret finger fetish, maybe?"
He glared at her. "Might I perhaps borrow your ring?"
"And here I thought you were giving to me for keeps."
She watched him as he fought to hang onto his temper. This was fun.
"I promise to give it back."
Sydney looked out the window, pretending to be interested in the Italian countryside. "And why should your promises mean anything to me?" So much for letting things go.
The look on his face became shuttered.
When he didn't respond, she turned to him for an explanation. "Well?"
"Why, indeed," Sark muttered quietly, leaning back into the pillows and closing his eyes.
She had either gone too far or... he was pouting.
Sydney stole a glance at his lower lip. Yeah. It was sticking out the tiniest bit.
"You... baby."
"I'm not even going to pretend I know what you're rambling about."
She grinned, leaning over him precariously. The tips of her hair swung at his face and he batted them away. "You're such a baby. I won't give you the ring so now you're pouting. Amazing. You were an only child, weren't you?"
This was too much.
Sark's eyes flew open and he rolled over, pinning her to the bed beneath him. "And if I was?"
She giggled, tracing his lower lip playfully. "Baby."
He growled and scrubbed a hand over face. "You're an only child as well. I fail to see how you can exclude yourself in this examination."
"Simple. I was really good friends with the next-door neighbors. I can share."
Sark settled comfortably, not minding in the least that he was on top of her. "Really?"
"Yep," she said smugly.
He cocked his head to side. "Then why won't you let me borrow your ring?"
Her jaw dropped open. "That wasn't fair."
"Nice comeback."
While she was engaged in coming up with a better response, Sark busied himself by twisting the ring off her finger.
He grasped it between his fingers triumphantly and walked over to the desk. There was a small tray beside his laptop and he placed the ring on top of it. "Close your eyes," he calmly instructed.
"Wha--" was all Sydney got out before a brilliant white light flared in the room.
She blinked dazedly, feeling her way along the wall to where Sark was busily typing away. She sat in the chair next to his and tried to focus but the white spots in front of her eyes made things a bit difficult.
"You know," she began, rubbing at her eyes, "We've really got to talk about that."
"What's that?" He continued typing furiously, bypassing two firewalls effortlessly and punching through another security level.
Sydney squinted and tried to make sense of the screen. "What's that?" She asked, unconsciously echoing his words.
"Simon's a bit... paranoid. He's taken quite an extreme approach to his security configurations."
She watched quietly as he worked through two more layers of heaving coding and stared at him for a moment. "You're really something, aren't you, Sark?"
Startled, he lost his rhythm and nearly missed another set of commands. "I beg your pardon?"
She kept the grin to herself and watched as his hands flew over the keyboard.
Eventually, a blue screen came up. Sark opened the email program and typed a brief message. 'Could Alexander have misinterpreted the project assessment? Not interested as of now.' He paused momentarily, and gave her the chance to read what was on the screen.
Sydney frowned. "All that to send an email? To who?" It was a code, that much she knew. She just didn't know what it meant.
Sark typed in a few more things that too fast for her eyes to track and sent the email. He closed down the program and backed out of the security. Then he handed her back the ring, which she fitted on distractedly, still watching him.
Sark walked over to the bureau, where he found clothes for both of them. Sydney followed, hot on his heels. "Are you going to tell me who you sent that to? Or is this a new development to our partnership? Because let me tell you, I'm getting awfully tired of asking you quest--"
He put his hand over her mouth and silenced her further protestations with a look. "I sent the email to an associate of mine. That," he made a random trail of kisses along her shoulder line, "Is all you need to know."
Even though Sydney knew he was putting on a performance for the cameras that were surely in the room, even though it seemed like Sark was obsessed with her neck-line, she couldn't get past the fact that he was hiding something from her.
Something huge.
She stepped back to let him see the warning in her eyes and suddenly threw them both off balance. They fumbled their way to the bed. When her hair was curtaining them both from inquisitive eyes, she leaned down close and whispered, "You had better tell me what's going on--with everything--or I will make this trip as painful as possible." Her knee edged dangerously close to him as she fought for purchase on the bed.
Sark was only too eager to flip her over. "That goes both ways, Sydney."
He caught her mouth in a desperate kiss and refused to allow her a reply.
When they paused to gasp for breath, Sark moved to whisper in her ear. "I sent the email to you mother."
He had just enough time to slide clear of the bed.
Jack Bristow was settling in for the night when the phone rang. He wearily reached to turn the light back on.
"Don't move."
The voice was quiet but lacked none of the threat its owner possessed.
He smiled to himself and turned the light on anyway.
"Jack!"
Irina stood in the doorway, half undressed. He folded his arms and watched her appraisingly. "Did you think I wouldn't want to watch?"
She paused with her hand on one hip. And with her pants and shirt gone, it was quite an image.
"I asked you nicely."
"Since when have I ever... done what you've asked?"
Irina left the clothes piled on the floor and crawled into the bed. "Do you really need me to remind you?"
Try as he might, the smile refused to leave his face. "You know this is dangerous."
"We like dangerous."
He considered. "Yes, but--"
Irina drew the covers to her chin and closed her eyes. He stopped mid- sentence and obligingly turned out the light.
The silence had settled over them comfortably when she chose to speak. "I thought it best to bring you this news in person." The arm around her waist tightened suddenly. She laughed and laid her hand atop his. "Don't worry, she's safe."
Even though she was his wife, even though there were issues between them-- both unresolved and those that had been put to rest--he still had trouble with letting her see how much Sydney's welfare affected him. It was foolish, he knew, for no one loved their daughter more than they did, but there were times...
Jack mentally shook the thought aside. "Are you... positive?"
She stiffened, insulted. "Are saying my sources are untruthful?"
"Merely verifying," he soothed, running a hand down the length of her long hair.
Irina almost sniffed in disdain. "She's with one of my best agents. In Italy. The region of Campania."
"I thought you were working on covering a false lead for Sydney?"
"I was," she turned in his arms to face him, "But that doesn't mean I can't... multi-task."
His lips curved beneath hers. "And what else did you find?"
She paused. "Jack, my flat outside of Paris has been used. Items in the safe... have been taken."
Jack turned the light back on, ignoring the way it burned their eyes. "What are you telling me, Irina? This is not the time to play games."
"Don't you think I know that?!" Irina threw her hand down against the mattress in irritation. "I'm telling you this because I didn't think you'd respond well if it were another one of those stupid internet conversations. I abhor them. They lack any feeling whatsoever."
"What are you trying to hide from me?" His pronunciation was clipped and left no question to how he was feeling.
"Nothing." Jack watched his wife roll out of bed and gather her clothes. "This was a bad idea. I should have just followed protocol," she sneered.
Jack waited until she had turned her back to move. Before she knew what had happened, he had her arms pinned and she was wrapped in an ironic sort of lover's embrace.
"Tell me what you came here to say."
She lashed out with strength and twisted in his arms to look him in the eyes. "I'm telling you who she's with, you idiot! The only person who has the code to the flat is Sark!"