Disclaimer: Alias belongs to JJ Abrams, ABC and the people at Bad Robot

Rating: PG-13, for language and sexual themes in future chapters

Pairing: Sydney/Sark, suggested Sydney/Vaughn and Sark/Lauren

Summary: When Sydney makes the fatal mistake of trusting Sark with a gun in Man of His Word, Season 4, Sark takes the opportunity to revenge himself on Vaughn for Lauren's murder. However, after spending a prolonged time together, Sark and Sydney begin to develop feelings that neither of them anticipated.

Author's Note: An AU version of the events in Man of His Word. What might have happened had Sydney trusted Sark with a gun during the fight with Anna at the club.

Chapter 4- A Frustrating Woman

Sark panted as he tore down the strip of warehouses he had been sent to by his masters at the Covenant. God, he hated them! They took his inheritance before he ever had the chance to have a little fun with eight hundred million dollars and then enlisted him to do their dirty work. And his mission had certainly been a dirty one. He had been sent to Los Angeles to ID and assassinate an agent who had gone rogue- Julia Thorne. It had seemed like an easy enough task at the beginning. Sark had been the one to pull the trigger in the death of many substantial figures. He very rarely regretted the loss of life, as nine out of ten of his targets deserved to die. But the Covenant had let one little detail slip. Julia Thorne was not Julia Thorne, but a Sydney Bristow who was currently on his heels and mad as hell.

In all the time he had known Sydney Bristow, he had never even thought of killing her. For one thing, he suspected if he could manage it, there would be many injuries on his side. For another, she was a fascinating individual. Strong and fierce as any agent he had ever come up against, yet as gentle and beautiful a woman as he had ever met. He had pleased himself with many sexual fantasies of Ms. Bristow time and again. He shook his head as he rounded a corner, his black Jaguar in sight. The Sydney behind him would be far more likely to shoot him full of bullets than steal kisses from him under the blistering Indian sun.

Sark had just considered himself home free when he heard a gunshot and felt the ripping pain of a bullet entering his shoulder. He let out an involuntary howl of pain. Sydney was suddenly in front of him and delivering a powerful kick to his wounded shoulder. He fell to his knees, the pain making his head spin. Sydney elbowed him in the head and he collapsed on to his back. He stared up at the CIA agent, realizing he had finally met the woman who would end his life. She was dressed in black jeans and a light weight black turtleneck with a close fitting black hat over her long brown hair. There was a look of pity on her face. "I really thought you'd give me a harder time of it than that Sark," Sydney chided him.

"Sydney, I swear…I had no idea you were Julia," he pleaded, throwing pride to the wind. "If I had, I would never have accepted the mission. You know I would never kill you."

Sydney rolled her eyes. "You've always had this idea that you and I have some sort of unspoken agreement with each other, Sark," Sydney said, her voice cold. "But you don't owe me anything, and I sure as hell don't owe you anything."

She lifted her gun and aimed it between his eyes. "Sydney, no!" Sark shouted, fear of death overcoming him for the first time in his life.

"Good bye, Julian," Sydney shrugged and pulled the trigger. Sark had time to let out one last scream before…

…Sark's eyes opened and his eyes landed on the beautiful sight of his naked lover, Sydney Bristow. She was facing away from him, looking out at the beach in the Philippines where they made their home. He reached over and brushed her shoulder with a soft kiss. She immediately rolled over with a lazy smile on her face. "Morning, love," she greeted, running a finger down his cheek.

"You are so beautiful, do you know that?" he asked, kissing her on the lips.

"You keep saying that," Sydney laughed. "Maybe one day it will sink in."

Sark smiled and moved his kisses to her collarbone, then further down to the curve between her breasts. He waited for the inevitable sounds of her arousal and was honestly surprised when they never came. Instead, she reached down and pulled his head back up to her own. She kissed him lightly on the lips, with no sign of the passion he was so accustomed to. "Not this morning, darling," she grinned. "This morning I want to take a walk on the beach without any shoes on."

Before he could convince her otherwise, she slipped away from him and out of bed. He leaned back in bed, a slow realization coming over him. "Vaughn," he finally said, the name bitter on his tongue. Sydney, rustling around in their walk-in closet froze. Sark sat up in bed, anger, hurt and betrayal washing over him. "It's Vaughn, isn't it? You've been seeing him again? God damn it, Sydney!"

Sydney shrugged into a thin white robe and turned to face him, her hands clasped behind her. "No, Sark," she said, her voice trembling. "Its not Vaughn, it was never Vaughn. But it was never you."

"What the hell was all this then?" he demanded, gesturing about him helplessly. "We built a home together, Syd, we were happy! Weren't we? Baby?"

"I was happy, Sark," she acknowledged. "I really was. But Kendall made me…he swore I'd never know what happened to me while I was missing if I didn't do it…I'm so sorry…"

Sark was shocked to find tears in her eyes and he realized she was a deathly white. "Kendall…fuck… this was all CIA?" His eyes focused on her hands that she had finally brought forward and was some how not surprised to see her clutching a gun. "Sydney, don't," he pleaded. "Sydney, baby, I love you. We can find out what happened together…you don't need Kendall or the CIA. You only need me…we only need each other."

Sydney was openly sobbing now, and Sark was almost sure he'd reached her. But suddenly her face hardened and she whipped the gun up. "No, no…I won't let you. No one is ever going to control me again after this one last thing. I want you to know though, before you die…that for a while, it was just as real for me as it was for you. I almost loved you, Sark."

She trained the gun on him as he sat helpless, unable to comprehend what was happening and how the woman he had planned to marry was looking at him so coldly.

"No, Sydney!" he begged.

"Goodbye, Julian." She pulled the trigger and Sark knew it was over.

Sark bolted up in bed, breathing heavily. For the fifth night in a row, wild dreams of Sydney had shocked him awake, always ending in his death at her hands. The woman had become a drug for him. His nights were filled with nightmares of her and his days were spent remembering their one, swift kiss. It hadn't been like the kiss in Club Vorda. The kiss in his kitchen had been true and honest. Which would explain why he couldn't get her deep brown eyes out of his mind. Sark was usually good at getting women out of his mind and he had tried his damndest these past few days. But the beautiful, righteous CIA agent who certainly had no similar affection for him had successfully managed to find her way into a niche he seemed unable to control.

He regretted leaving without telling her where he was going, without even saying goodbye. But he knew it was probably for the best. He wasn't entirely sure if he'd gone back to her room the morning he left he would have been able to leave. He'd practically had to drag himself out of her bedroom their final night together. Sark couldn't quite figure out the moment the infatuation had begun, but there was no doubt it was there in full force. He had a tingling feeling over his whole body if he was alone that he might turn around and see Sydney grinning at him, and her scent haunted him at night when it had no right being in his bedroom in Innsbruck, Austria.

He didn't even have the option of reminding himself Sydney was the enemy. He had never really considered the agent to be an enemy of his, even when she was CIA and he Covenant. Now that he was his own boss, and could appoint his enemies, he knew there was no way he could add the slip of a woman to that list. He rubbed his forehead. At this rate, it was much more likely he would instruct his men to avoid harming her at all costs. He heaved a sigh and gave up on sleep, rolling out of bed and shrugging into a deep blue robe he had draped over a nearby chair.

His thoughts still heavy and dark, he walked over to his dresser and retrieved a large tumbler and filled it to the brim with good, rich whiskey. He then took a seat out on his balcony and looked up at the night sky, heavy with stars. He supposed Sydney was asleep now, her mind void of any worries, unless it was when he was going to let her go. He leaned back in the chair, draining the tumbler quicker than he had expected. He considered going back for another, but decided against it. What would hopefully be the concluding meeting between himself and the three assets he had chosen to share in his enterprise would take place early the next morning and he wanted to be on his top form.

He stood and leaned over the railing, still fascinated by the dark night sky. He had always loved the night sky, but there was something that drew him more towards the moon, especially one like this evening. It was a cold, white and edged with a simple halo of light. It was cold and distant, unlike the shining stars that seemed to beckon mere mortals to them. Sark had always hoped he managed to capture something of the moon in his own carriage, but that evening he would have given anything to be warm and funny, or whatever it was that captured Sydney's attention in a man. He growled in frustration at the direction his thoughts had turned and gave up on his 'no more drinks' policy. His thoughts would never get a moment's peace without a few good strong shots.

Innsbruck

Sark, still nursing a headache from the previous night's moping, watched his companions closely, his eyes tuned to pick up any weakness the three assets might reveal. First off, and most trustworthy of all three, was Igor Poladski, his former employer's bodyguard. Although Sark had been privy to many things that went on under Irina as 'The Man', Poladski had been closest to her and knew everything that went on. He was an undeniable asset and an intelligent man. Irina would never consent to being protected by a man who could not at least carry on a half decent conversation. And to carry on a half-decent conversation with Irina Derevko was no little task. Poladski would have spent his entire time on his toes, ensuring that Irina was pleased. He was, however, a hulking Russian man, who was handy with any weapon he happened to pick up. Although his financial assets were decidedly depleted, the intelligence he brought with him more than made up for that.

The second man was Joshua Frou, a Scandinavian gentleman who had at one point had substantial standing in the KGB. He was a clever bastard and had predicted the downfall of his agency almost a month before it happened- more than anyone else in the world could claim. He had already drifted away from the KGB before Sark had approached the organization and had been far away enough to make a clear break. His financial attributes had not even been touched and no agency- not the M15 or CIA could prove he had anything to do with the terrorist organization. Since the downfall of the KGB, Frou had been inactive, content to live in peace save his brief excursions with the Italian mob, which is how he had managed to be invited here. He was a good friend of Antonio and was eager to get back in the game- Antonio had not had to do much convincing before he agreed to meet with Sark.

The third partner, and the individual who would hopefully run the organization, was Tai Ichiniwa, a Chinese woman who was known worldwide for her cunning move of infiltrating the Shing Bet for three years before being made. What was more impressive was that she had managed to escape and return to her masters at the ECR safely. Within two months of that return she was basically in control of her organization. For women field agents, Tai was possibly the best in the secret service community, unless it was Julia Thorne- the woman acknowledged for bringing down the ECR a year and a half ago right under Tai's nose. Sark allowed himself a smile. Sydney was absolutely amazing. He shook his head, angry with himself for being distracted and continued running over what he knew about Tai. She was eager to get back into the spy world, and Sark had known upon contacting her that she would probably insist in having operational control of what was being referred to as the Guild. This suited Sark fine. He didn't want to be behind a desk, planning out missions and dealing with bank accounts. He just wanted to be back in the field with an organization backing him that he knew had his best interest's at heart.

Sark leaned back in his chair. "So, friends," he smiled, causing them all to look up from the contracts he had drawn up with Antonio's assistance. "You have had plenty of time to read over the contract. Do we have an agreement?"

"I will sign," Poladski said without reservation. "Irina always spoke highly of you, Mr. Sark. Irina was an excellent judge of character. I suspect we can be assured of many good things under you."

"Under me, you mean," Tai spoke up, leaning over to reach for a pen. "Mr. Sark has agreed I may have operational control."

"I look at this as more of a coalition," Sark confessed. "But, yes, Ms. Ichiniwa, you may consider yourself first among equals."

"I will," she said coldly, no warmth in her glance. She turned to face Frou. "And what of you, Joshua? Certainly you will not miss out on all the fun?"

Frou, frowning darkly, pulled his contract towards him and pulled a silver pen out of his inside pocket. "I see no fun in attempting to find the base of Covenant operations and recover Mr.Sark's eight hundred million dollars," he complained. Yet he signed his name, and pushed his contract towards Sark.

"But you do see something fun in receiving one hundred million of that money, am I correct?" Sark inquired. He gathered the other two contracts and slipped them in his briefcase. He stood, fighting down the exuberance bubbling up inside of him. "I thank you, gentlemen, Ms. Ichiniwa. I am sure our collaboration will be one of the utmost efficiency, perhaps even rivaling the glory of the Alliance, KGB or the ECR."

"I should hope that we should surpass their glory," Poladski growled in his thick accent. "You will remember that those organizations were all defeated in the end."

"Of course," nodded Sark. "Now, I believe that we should spend very little time in Innsbruck together. We all have very…wanted…faces. I suggest returning to wherever you chose to reside and putting your resources together to find the Covenant base. If you have any information, you will be able to contact me here. Thank you for your time."

Tai immediately stood up and, giving her new allies a short nod, exited the conference room. Sark knew he could trust his household staff to see she left the property immediately. Just because she had signed a contract that gave her considerable power, did not mean that that minx was trustworthy. Sark would not put it past her to betray her own mother, let alone three men who were practically strangers. He found himself momentarily entertaining a fantasy of locking Tai and Sydney in a room and seeing who would emerge the victor. Despite all of Tai's cunning and backstabbing, Sark was willing to bet on his CIA agent.

"Well, she's certainly a friendly little bitch, isn't she?" Poladski joked brashly.

"Gives we gentleman more time for pleasure though," Frou said. "I would not complain if I were you, Igor."

"Eh?"

"If either of you desire it, I have taken to keeping a few constant female companions with me that we could use as our celebration…"

Sark let himself drift away in his own thoughts, not particularly caring about Frou's whores. His mind was on an entirely different type of girl. He was sick of this constant nag in the back of his head and he was sick of wishing Sydney was with him. He didn't care if it was some sort of mad infatuation. It was one he could afford to condone for the time being. He would consider it his own personal celebration party. He was going home. Though, he had to admit, this would be the first time he had ever considered the English manor a home of any type.

"So, Mr. Sark?" Frou asked. "Will you join us?"

Sark's head darted up and he realized he had lost track of the conversation, though he assumed they were still discussing Frou's harem. "Uh…no, no thank you," he declined. "I have to take a business trip, actually. I am scheduled to leave as soon as our meeting is finished."

"Then we won't keep you waiting," Poladski said genially. "Just remember, all work and no play, makes Sark a dull boy."

Sark chose to ignore the small barb about his age. "Where does your business take you?" Frou inquired.

"To England," Sark answered honestly. "I'm meeting a…very valuable contact."

"Does your contact know anything that will help us?" Igor prodded, suddenly interested.

Sark smiled secretively. "Let us just say I am very eager to speak with her," he eluded. "Allow me to show you gentlemen out."

London

Sydney glared out at the sunny England day. The temperatures were warm for this time of year and the whole world was just begging for her to come out and run with it. She wasn't a sentimental person, but even she could appreciate that obvious plea from Mother Nature. Yet she was stuck inside a cold, empty English manor, forced to pass her days with drugstore paperbacks, bad television and long hours filled with thoughts of Mr. Julian Sark. For the first four days, she had held to her own personal promise faithfully. She would not attempt escape, even if he had abandoned her to loneliness and boredom. She couldn't exactly expect him to put his whole life on hold to baby-sit a prisoner of inconsequential standing. But by the fourth day of his absence, she realized that was exactly what he should do. If she had to be locked up, the least he could do was come and amuse her. He had kissed her for God's sake! Surely he didn't find her company unbearable. On the fifth day she had pocketed the steak knife that came with her supper and now, six days after Sark had killed his mentor, she was preparing a plan of escape.

She had come to like Sark's household staff, especially Lawrence and Nancy, the maid who brought her meals. Even Mrs. Beresford had charmed her in some strange way. But that didn't mean she would be content to stay here for six months without any news of the outside world. And by outside world, she meant the spy world. If Sark had seen fit to abandon her, then she was released from her promise and it was high time she was on her way. She had decided that she would not re-attempt her scale of the wall, but simply walk out of the house as though she had every right to it. The marksmen would not immediately open fire, as many of the servants left each day and went home around five o'clock, which was in exactly ten minutes. It was time to get ready.

Nancy had allowed her to go out for a stroll around the house yesterday. She had immediately broke into one of the maid's room and stole her spare uniform. She changed into the uniform- a fairly run-of-the-mill maid's outfit. It was a simple black dress that hung just to her knees and had a white tie over apron that wrapped around her neck and then covered to her mid-thighs. The shoes were simple black pumps. Sydney brushed her hair out and then twisted it into the sleek bun she had noticed Nancy wearing. Shrugging her shoulders, she saw it was now 4:58. Close enough to five to suit her liking.

The only big problem would be getting out of the room. If there was no one around, she could simply kick the door open and proceed downstairs. However, if someone was passing by, she would immediately have to begin fighting her way out. She pressed her ear to the door. She couldn't hear anything, and hoped that meant there was nothing there. Taking a deep breath, she kicked the door open. It didn't take too much pressure and she silently thanked the shabby locksmith who had made the locks. The hall was blissfully empty. She smoothed her apron down and walked swiftly to the staircase.

At the top of the stairs, she paused, trying to steady her breathing. It was important nothing about her looked suspicious. She slowed her pace descending the stairs, trying to look like nothing more but a weary employee ready to go home after keeping a house for a master who was never home. A man she had never seen before her, nodded to her. "Are you new, miss?" he inquired innocently.

"Yes," Sydney confirmed, putting on a British accent. "It was my first day."

"Did you have a good day, then?" he asked.

"Oh, quite a good one," she nodded cheerfully.

"Well, then hopefully I'll see you around sometime soon," he said with a grin that said he was enjoying the sight of her long legs that the dress flaunted.

"Certainly," Sydney smiled slyly. She continued down the stairs, thinking to herself 'You'll never see me again if this works out.'

She reached the first floor and headed to the door. Her breath caught when she realized Lawrence was rummaging around in the hall closet for something. She would have to walk right past him and if he turned he would certainly recognize her. She continued on steadily though, knowing there was no going back at this point. As her heels clicked past him, he turned, but not so early that her back wasn't too him. "Have a good night," he wished her.

"You too," Sydney sang out, disguising her voice. She opened the front door and closed it behind her, resisting the urge to breath a sigh of relief. She lifted her face to the setting sun, reveling in the feel of it on her face. She was free! Now she would simply walk to the gate and inform the man there that she was waiting for a cab. As long as it wasn't the man who had been there the first time she had entered Sark's home, she would be home free.

She walked lightly down the front steps, knowing there was a huge smile on her face. Hopefully any watchers would just attribute that to the relief of the end of a day. She realized that it was Friday and knew that a weekend off would be just the thing to trigger the smile on most people's faces. She was about half way to the gate when two very unlucky things happened at once. The gate began to swing open, letting in a long black stretch limo. Sydney couldn't say how she knew, but she realized that without a doubt Sark was in that car. Just as that realization hit her, the front doors slammed open. "Stop that woman!" Lawrence yelled. "Stop that woman! She's a prisoner!"

The back door to the limo was swinging open and Sydney kicked into gear. She reached the door before it was too far open and slammed it shut, hearing Sark groan as he slammed back into the car. She lit off towards the still open gate, but before she reached it, two guards moved in to block her path. She leapt up and with a frustrated yell, kicked the nearest guard in the face. He went down hard. The second guard moved in and punched her hard in the stomach. She was knocked backwards, but lashed out at him quickly. She elbowed him in the neck and kicked him in the balls. She let out a victory yell and began to head for the gate again. However the first guard had now recovered and grabbed her around the waist. The second guard made the mistake of coming forward, and Sydney used the first guard to lift her feet off the ground and kicked the second guard in the nose. She landed on her feet and delivered a hard, swift kick to her captor's knee cap.

She felt the cartilage break and he let go of her, howling in pain. Ignoring his obvious agony, she knelt and relieved him of his gun, in case any other guard should try to halt her. She heard footsteps running towards her and immediately raised the gun, training it on her new enemy. Sark.

She found herself inexplicably caught off guard. She had half known he was here, but seeing him was so much different. He was dressed in one of those ridiculously expensive Italian suits that fit him without fault. His hair was slightly messy, no doubt from the door hitting him. His blue eyes were trained on her, an unreadable look in his eyes. As soon as he saw the gun, however, a look of horror spread across his face- the look of a man who woke to see his nightmares were reality. Sydney realized the gun in her hand was shaking, and she steadied it, mentally preparing herself to shoot him. Not to kill, just to injure enough for her to escape.

"Hello, Sydney," he said, his voice quaking. Sydney couldn't understand why he was so frightened. It would not be the first time he'd had a gun trained on him.

"Hello, Sark," she drawled, pleased her voice did not quiver.

"You're a very frustrating woman," he said, his voice now bitter. "One moment you appear to be the very best of confidents; sweet, honest and loving. The next moment you have a gun trained on me, ready to kill me."

"Not kill you," she said quickly. "I, unlike you, don't kill without need."

Sark moved a bit closer, obviously relieved to hear that. "Put the gun down, Syd," he pleaded. "Its too late. There are more guards coming. You'll never get out."

"Don't call me Syd," she ordered harshly. "And how do you know that shooting you wouldn't be enough for me right now?"

She must have displayed some sort of weakness, because Sark moved even closer, reaching out and taking hold of her arms. "Come on, Sydney," he whispered. "Come inside with me."

Sydney knew that she should pull the trigger, that there was still time to get away. But somehow, with the heat of his body pressed against hers and his blue eyes locked on hers, she couldn't find the strength or will power to pull that trigger and deliver a bullet would to his side. She slowly let the gun drop and winced as she heard it hit the ground. "Good girl," Sark said, a soft smile on his face. "I knew you didn't want to do that."

"You have no idea what I want," Sydney said, sulkily.

"No, I really think I do," Sark argued. He looked back at his limo driver, who was holding a gun, still trained on Sydney. "It's all right, Devon. Just bring the food."

"Food?" Sydney raised her eyebrows.

"Chinese take-out," Sark answered. "For you, my dear."

Sydney rolled her eyes, and then let out a small gasp as Sark reached down and scooped her into his arms. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "I can walk, you know."

"Oh, I know that too well," Sark smiled. "Which is why I don't quite trust you to not run away as soon as my back is turned."

Sydney realized that plan had already been half formed in the back of her head, so she consented to being carried. Sark walked as though he was unburdened and for a moment she couldn't help but marvel at his amazing strength. She knew Vaughn was strong, but Sark carried her as though she was a small child. There was something comforting in the lean feel of his hard muscles against her body. She resisted the urge to rest her head against his shoulders. Somehow, she felt safer than she could ever remember feeling. Lawrence was waiting for them at the front door. "Welcome home, Mr. Sark," he greeted, a knowing smile on his face.

"Thank you, Lawrence," Sark said amiably. "Its good to be back."

"That is a slightly different attitude then we're used to," Lawrence said bluntly.

"Times have changed," Sark said simply.

"Apparently."

Sark carried Sydney into a room she had not seen yet. It was a type of sitting room, with a large fireplace and two very comfortable looking couches. A large coffee table sat in front of one of the couches. There was a state of the art stereo system and sliding doors that led out on to a deck that overlooked an outdoor pool she wasn't aware existed. There was also a large golden retriever that came bounding over upon catching sight of Sark. He barked happily and trailed them closely as Sark sat Sydney down on one of the couches.

He then turned his attention on the dog, running his hands through the thick golden fur and scratching behind his ears. "'allo, Max," he greeted, one of those rare smiles playing on his face.

The limo driver, Devon, entered carrying two large brown bags. Without saying anything, he unpacked many cartons of Chinese food, two paper plates, chopsticks, and a bottle of wine. He left for a moment, but then returned again with two wine glasses. "Good night, Mr. Sark," he said, with a bow of his head. Sark nodded and then began opening packages of Chinese food.

"Please, help yourself," Sark offered.

Sydney, by now feeling rightfully ashamed of herself, began to serve herself. She hated this ashamed feeling. It wasn't as though she was doing anything wrong trying to escape. She certainly didn't owe Sark anything. But the fact that he had clearly planned an evening together only to find her trying to escape yet again, was not one that settled easily on her conscience. When they were ready, Sark hit play on the stereo, and the sounds of Josh Groban flooded into the room. Sydney stifled a smile. She didn't know if Sark enjoyed the young opera singer or if he had found out that he was one of her favorites, but either way she was pleased to hear the rich baritone again.

They sat eating in silence for a while, but eventually Sydney spoke up. "I didn't know you had a dog," she admitted, looking at Max, who was curled up in front of the fireplace.

"He's not mine," Sark answered. "He's Lawrence's. But Max and I get along all right. When I'm here, that is."

Sydney nodded, chewing on her egg roll. She risked a look over at Sark. He was eating mechanically, glaring at his food. She could tell that he was displeased with her, and felt for some reason as though she owed him some sort of explanation. "They told me you weren't coming back for six months," she finally said, angry that there was the sound of begging for forgiveness in her voice.

He looked up, shocked. "Six months? Who told you that?"

"Nancy," Sydney answered. "She said that you had left for Innsbruck and that you were usually gone for long periods of time, because you hated this house. She said we wouldn't see you for at least another six months."

"I never said six months," Sark said. "I had to go to Innsbruck to meet some clients. But I always intended to return as soon as that was over."

"Well, I didn't know that," Sydney complained. "You didn't even tell me you were leaving."

It was now Sark's turn to look guilty. "I had to leave," he reasoned. "I had the meeting all set up and I couldn't stay here…not after what I did to Ichino."

"You could have told me you were leaving," Sydney chided him. "I didn't even know you were gone."

Sark stood up and came to sit beside her. "I'm sorry, Sydney," he apologized, and she could tell he was sincere. "I didn't know my absence would cause you such pain."

"It wasn't your absence," Sydney said hastily, though she was half sure that's exactly what it was. "Do you know what its like to be stuck inside for a week, alone, while the sun is shining?"

"Yes," Sark answered. "I also know what its like to not be able to see the sun."

Sydney lowered her head, remembering once more exactly how much worse his situation had been when he stayed with the CIA. She tried to remind herself that he was a terrorist and she was being held for unknown reasons, but it wasn't working as well as it once would have. She looked up again, avoiding eye contact with him. "I love Josh Groban," she smiled.

"I know," Sark said offhand. "Allison hates classical or opera music. She was always complaining that she had to pretend she liked it when she was with you."

Sydney allowed herself a small laugh, then leaned back into the couch. "You just know me through that woman, don't you?"

Sark nodded. "But I'd like to get to know you for you," he said daringly.

Sydney smiled a little. "Well, unless you're planning on letting me go any time soon, I'm sure you'll have the opportunity."

"Well, that's only incentive for me to keep you locked up forever," he teased.

Sydney glanced over at him, and was pleased to see he once again wore that genuine smile. She felt that when he smiled like that, he was letting down the façade he wore for everyone else, though she knew in her heart that that smile could easily be just another mask he felt would work with her. She realized that it was working quite well, façade or no. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely.

"For what?" he asked, the smile still lingering on his face.

She wanted to say for running away, but knew he would certainly laugh at her and say it was expected, so she opted for something lesser. "For hitting you with the car door," she laughed a little.

"Well, I suppose I deserved it," Sark shrugged. "Beware anyone who tries to halt Sydney Bristow's escape plans."

Sydney allowed herself another laugh. But she had a sinking feeling she wouldn't be trying to escape anytime soon.

The next morning, Sydney had just stepped out of the shower and was wrapping herself in a white, bulky towel, when Sark walked unannounced into her room. She quelled the sudden urge to cover herself and gave him a smile. "Thanks for knocking," she teased.

"It's my house," he shrugged, sitting down on the edge of her tub. "Besides, you look lovely."

"Pervert," she sighed half heartedly.

"Oh, most definitely," he agreed, not even bother to disguise the way his eyes were trailing along her wet body. Suddenly however he lifted her eyes to hers and smiled. "I think I like your eyes best of all," he announced. "Do you want to come on a walk with me?"

"On a walk?" Sydney asked eagerly. "Outside?"

"Yes," Sark nodded. He rose and came to stand beside her, looking at them both in her bathroom mirror. "As long as I'm with you, and you promise not to try and escape, there's no reason you shouldn't be allowed outside."

A huge grin spread across Sydney's smile, causing Sark to wear one of his own. "Thank you," she said, genuinely touched by his gesture. Looking at them both in the mirror, her in a towel and him in one of his amazingly gorgeous and undoubtedly expensive outfits, she couldn't help but think what an attractive, almost domestic looking couple they made.

Sark unexpectedly kissed her on the cheek, and Sydney made no attempt to pull away. He smiled softly and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I really do want you to be happy here, Sydney," he told her honestly. "I'll let you get changed and then meet you downstairs."

"Okay," she nodded.

He paused in the doorway, looking back at her. "You must admit, Sydney, we do make an extremely attractive couple."

"Oh, get out of here," Sydney laughed. He grinned before exiting the bathroom. Sydney waited until she was sure he was gone, before laying a hand to her head. This was not good. Not good at all.