Disclaimer: Alias belongs to JJ Abrams, ABC and the people at Bad Robot
Rating: R, 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.
Blatantly stole a line from Mr. and Mrs. Smith. See if you can spot it!
Chapter: 10/14
Chapter 10- Star-crossed Lover
Innsbruck
Sark nervously ran a hand through his curled blonde hair. He regarded his reflection moodily, noting it was somewhat paler than usual. And the curls made him look younger than his twenty-seven years. After having his hair shaved in CIA custody, he had thought to keep it short to maintain the older, more experienced look it gave him. But Sydney, unlike Lauren, preferred the curls. He tilted his head a little and a small smile twitched on his lips. The curls weren't really all that bad. Kind of handsome in their own way. He let out a breath of frustration when he realized what he was actually thinking of. This was hardly the right opportunity to get carried away in thoughts of Sydney and one's personal appearance. Though he believed the choice of dressing in a sharp black suit and his favourite red silk shirt had been wise.
He had not truly understood the danger of his situation before arriving at his Innsbruck home late last night. Tai had met him at the gates, having already taken up residence. He remembered dryly wondering when his once favourite and most private residence had become a bed and breakfast for prominent terrorists. She had coldly ordered him to a meeting to question his recent conduct first thing the following morning. Her tone brooked no room for argument and for the first time, Sark realized his life could very well be in danger from the deadly woman.
Joshua Frou had joined him in his suite shortly after he had been settled and they had talked late into the night. Frou explained that Tai had completely seized total control in the few weeks since Sark's absence. She had their assets running all over the globe. Frou and Poladski had turned a blind eye, since neither of them was powerful in their own right to stop Tai's wildly ambitious agenda. But there could be no doubt, Frou had confided in hushed tones. Tai was attempting to re-establish the ECR using the means the Guild provided. Apparently Sark had made a very grievous mistake in trusting the Chinese minx.
"And there's more," Frou had said, leaning even closer. Sark had checked the room for bugs, but there was every possibility he could have missed some, not having any proper equipment. "She's been very keen to discover where you have relocated to. Igor and I cannot decide whether it's your head she wants or Sydney Bristow's."
"She can take my head," Sark growled. "But if she thinks she could take Syd's, she's got another thing coming. Did she forget exactly how easily Sydney kicked her ass?"
Frou shrugged. "Even the best agent can be taken out by a hidden sniper." Seeing Sark's dark look, he quickly rushed into the silence. "So far though, she doesn't know where you were hiding. Sydney is safe for now."
The anger pulsing in Sark was quite a magnificent thing. He had half a mind to barge into Tai's room immediately and shot her full of holes. "And you and Poladski have just sat by and done what she told you? Missed the class about using your spines in spy school, did we?"
"Well did you miss the class about sleeping with the enemy?" Frou shot back. "You've made yourself one of the most wanted men in the world. Wasn't it you who cautioned against making ourselves too notable. You have let down the Guild, Julian. You know you have."
"I don't care about the god damn Guild!" Sark exploded, heedless of any listening devices. "The only reason I'm here was to ensure Tai didn't send any assassins after Sydney and I. I'm defecting, Frou, I want out! I'm going home to Syd to live in peace."
"And where exactly are you hiding the little CIA bitch?" Frou had asked eagerly.
The odd and uncharacteristic question had stilled Sark's tirade. He paused, feeling the cold shock hit him. "She sent you here, didn't she?" he asked in a voice of ice. "Thought you could get into my confidences by ensuing me you thought her insane, and then find out where I had Sydney? Does she only want me here so she can deal with Sydney on her own?"
Frou didn't bother to deny the accusations brought forwards. "No," he finally answered. "She doesn't know where Sydney is. She only wanted you here in hopes we could get it out of you accidentally. Should have known you were too clever for that, Julian."
"Yes," Sark agreed fiercely. "You bloody well should have."
"Doesn't really matter though," Frou said breezily. "Unless you really bring something spectacular forward, she's going to kill you tomorrow morning. It will give me the distinct pleasure to see you killed, Mr. Sark. You've been an arrogant little prick since the first day Irina put you on the market. You think your minimal talents could sustain you without her protection, or that of Arvin Sloane's. Perhaps now you'll finally realize exactly how incompetent you are."
"Oh, really?" Sark said in a voice Frou should have known brooked no good.
"Do you doubt it?" Frou smirked.
"No," Sark agreed amicably. "But, I am afraid I will not be able to afford you the pleasure of seeing me killed." And before Frou could even react to that statement, Sark had whipped a pistol out of his jacket inner pocket and had shot him in between the eyes. He fell to the floor, immediately dead.
Sark had shoved him out the door and spent the rest of the night sitting in a chair set in the very centre of the room, waiting for dawn or an assassination attempt, whichever came first. Morning had come without any incident and he was now prepared to go and meet his doom or possibly mete out some of his own. Just before dawn, he had made an untraceable phone call and, using a voice distorter, had whispered "Julian Lazaery and Tai Ichiniwa can be found at 12 Sonnenuntergangstraße."
His only hope now as he made his way to the meeting with Tai was that the name Julian Lazaery really was one of the most wanted in the world. He reached the doors into the conference room he had been ordered to meet Tai in and hesitated, wondering if she would just start shooting the moment he opened the door. He doubted he would survive a shoot out against Tai Ichiniwa and Igor Poladski, but at least he could go down fighting for the right side, for possibly the first time in his life. He only regretted not being able to tell Sydney he loved her just once. He checked his guns, having no less than four hidden on his person, as well as additional ammunition. Then squaring his shoulders, he pushed open the doors and entered the entirely white room.
Tai was lounging on a high backed chair at the head of a long, clear table. She was dressed in white slacks and a white tank top, her long black hair drawn up in a complicated twist. A silver lap top stood open before her. Igor sat on her right, dressed entirely in black, contrasting starkly with the room. He let the doors close behind him, making sure they did not lock. There were no windows, and the only other exit was a secret one that would take some time to open. Sark took a few steps into the room and then stopped, standing stiffly in front of them. He nodded sharply towards Igor, but then focused on Tai, whom he decided was the real threat.
"Julian," she smirked, with a light tone. "I confess, I did not actually believe you would attend this meeting. Particularly after your festivities last night. Does Irina's spy school not teach that it never does to murder the members of one's own organization."
"Must have missed that one," Sark said coldly, with no trace of jest in his voice as he realized the bug must have been Frou himself.
"Clearly," Tai raised an eyebrow. "However, the situation is not irreversible. Frou's death, though…regrettable…is not enough to coax me to immediately blow your brains out."
"Well, thank you," Sark drawled.
"Sarcasm does not become you, darling," Tai chided him.
"Neither do terms of endearment out of your foul mouth," Sark snarled, letting his temper get the best of him.
"Now, now," Tai shook her finger at him. "That is hardly the way to treat the woman who holds your life in her hands. Or more importantly, Sydney Bristow's life."
Sark prayed to whatever deity was out there listening that he managed to keep the ice cold plunge of fear out of his face. Apparently something gave him a way, for Tai gave a small cackle. "Yes, you see, while you were busy killing off one of my men, I was doing a little bit of tracing on your journey here. You jumped around a bit, but once I discovered your alias, it was only too easy to trace you back to Havana. Sydney's been doing a bit of shopping in your absence."
She clicked a key on her laptop and a screen flicked to life behind her. A blurry but still identifiable image of Sydney appeared. She was shopping in a boutique. The street outside was clearly the main road in Havana's shopping district. Sark's heart dropped. "What do you want?" he asked, unable to keep the resignation out of his voice. He would do whatever was necessary to keep Sydney alive, even if he had to break her heart in the process.
"It's very simple," Tai explained. "Sydney can be killed easily enough. She thinks herself safe and hidden. But I don't want her killed, I want her brought to me alive. She and I are long overdue for a little chat. But taking Sydney alive is far easier said than done. Convince her to come to Austria with you. It shouldn't be too difficult. Once she is here, you'll hand her over to me."
"Where you'll torture her and then murder her to get your petty revenge because she took down your operation?" Sark demanded angrily. "Never. What's option two?"
Tai exchanged a significant look with Igor before answering. "I kill you now and have my men take down Sydney. It takes longer, but eventually we will get her."
Sark's blood was pounding, his mind racing to find a way out of this dreadful predicament. "Option three?" he asked hopefully, stalling for time.
"There is no option three, you moron," Tai hissed.
Sark gave a dry chuckle. "Talk about a Catch 22."
Tai was not to be distracted however. She pulled a gun out of the waistband of her bands. "Stop stalling for time, you treacherous bastard," she ordered, taking aim. "What option are we going with? One or two? Its really not that difficult of a concept!"
"I'm treacherous?" Sark raised an eyebrow, eyes fixed on the gun in her hand.
The sound of gunfire in the outside hall drew his, Igor's and Tai's attention from the tension driven situation they were locked in. "What the hell?" Igor grunted, speaking for the first time.
"What's going on out there?" Tai demanded. "More of your games?"
"This has nothing to do with me," Sark lied, assuming this was the result of the anonymous call he had made early this morning.
The unlocked door burst open and Sanjay, Sark's bodyguard, rushed in, bleeding profusely from a gun wound in his shoulder and left thigh. "Sir!" he panted. "CIA! They've found us…you must escape. Run!"
A bullet, this time from within the room tore into Sanjay's throat. With the sound of gurgling blood, Sanjay sunk to the floor. Sark grabbed him, and lowered him gently. He closed his friend's eyelids and turned to face Tai, who held a smoking gun. "You stupid bitch!" he hissed. "We could have used him in the upcoming fight!"
"Upcoming fight?" screeched Tai. "This was your doing, or your little whore's! You won't be fighting."
"Not exactly true," Sark contradicted, cursing the CIA for being overachieving bastards. He had intended to be far away by the time they invaded his mansion. "My life is in just as much danger as yours. In case you've forgotten, my current liaisons have made me one of the most wanted men in the world."
"Liar!" Tai accused, fear in her eyes. Apparently her last run in with a CIA agent had left her none too keen to repeat it. "Surely a clever ruse."
"Frankly, Tai, I really don't have time to argue about this," Sark growled. He slammed the door shut, somewhat muffling the sounds of gunfire. He ran over to the table and overturned it, hoping to give them some minimal cover from the barrage of bullets they would soon be fading. Perhaps realizing their argument would have to be put aside till later if they wanted a chance to have it, Tai knelt behind the clear table, withdrawing another gun from up her leg. She aimed them on the opening door, grip steady as always. Igor began to move towards cover.
Sark, on the other hand, hurried towards the screen. He pressed his hand into the wall just to the left of it and a small panel flipped over. He typed in a number password. "Voice recognition," ordered the computer.
"Mockingbirds fly overhead on cloudy days," Sark answered clearly. The computer began processing.
"What the hell are you doing?" Tai snarled as Sark rejoined them.
"Getting us a way out of here," Sark replied, drawing out two of his guns. "You can thank me later."
There was no more time for talk however. A well aimed bullet blew the lock on the door and then they were in the middle of a heated shoot out. Sark cursed when he recognized Marcus Dixon, Jack Bristow and Eric Weiss. He had hoped to never have to fight Sydney's loved ones, but clearly they had been tracking him. He registered a slight surprise that Michael Vaughn and Nadia Santos were not present, before he began to return fire. He was careful to never aim to kill, hoping only to delay them until their escape route was open. A careful shot by Weiss caught Igor in the head only a few seconds into the wild shooting frenzy. The Russian went down, dead before his head hit the floor.
Tai let out a cry that reminded him distinctly of the one he had ushered learning Lauren was dead, making Sark distantly question whether or not she and Igor had been involved somehow. At that exact moment, the secret door finally opened. "Tai, we've got to go!" Sark hollered in her ear over the sounds of the bullets. They were crouched behind the table. It had proved surprisingly strong, but if Jack, Weiss and Dixon kept up their steady fire, the table would be shattered.
Tai nodded once to let him know she understood. Keeping low to the ground, Sark raced over to the door. He reached the cool shelter of the hidden tunnel before realizing the Chinese woman had not followed him. "Tai!" he screamed. He wasn't keen to save her, but knew she would be better under his protection than left to make her own way.
She turned before entering the chamber, and aimed her gun at Weiss. "Take that, you fat asshole," she screamed, pulling the trigger. Sark tried to distort her aim, but he was too slow. Weiss went down, but Sark had clearly seen her bullet pierce his leg. He should survive, for which Sark was thankful. He pulled Tai in and slammed the door shut.
"Are you mad?" he shouted. "You never delay me again, you stupid prat!"
"He was my lover," Tai snapped in her own defence, and Sark was startled to see tears burning in her slanted brown eyes.
Sark rolled his eyes, feeling very little real sympathy. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her after him. "I hate it when you cold bitches go all warm and weepy."
She said nothing, merely allowing him to drag her after him. The tunnel was relatively long and dark. After a few short steps the cool cement was replaced by dirt walls and floors. The ceiling was low, so they had to run in an awkward crouched position. As they ran, Sark pulled out his cell phone and dialled a six digit number. "Hans, I need immediate extraction on the east side of the estate," he snapped into the phone. "Be prepared to deal with enemy fire."
"Roger that," came the ever calm and easy voice of Sark's personal pilot. Sark hung up the phone and continued running, hopeful to reach the waiting helicopter before the CIA got outside. He suspected if they had only sent three agents into the room that was all they had. Which meant that this was an APO mission, not one with the full backing of the CIA. The part of him that was Sark, the spy and assassin was grateful that Tai had shot Eric Weiss. Hopefully Jack and Dixon would be distracted long enough by that to allow them ample time to escape.
They reached the end of the tunnel in good time. It led to a door that would look like a simple entrance into the cellar. Sark and Tai paused, catching their breath before risking the last stretch- a run across an open lawn to their waiting escape. "Ready?" Sark inquired, laying a hand on the door handle.
"I'm always ready," Tai nodded, though Sark noticed her eyes were still glistening suspiciously.
He flung open the door, and was relieved to hear nothing. He risked poking his head out. There was no sign of any threat. He vaulted out of the tunnel and reached down, helping to pull Tai out. "Where's the helicopter?" she inquired.
"Over there, just before the forest starts," Sark answered, pointing to where the helicopter was already waiting. Hans certainly knew the meaning of 'immediate.'
They began the last, loping run. Before they had really gotten started however, gun shots sounded from behind them, and an angry male voice. Sark risked a look behind him and saw a jeep tearing after them. He groaned. Michael Vaughn was behind the wheel and Nadia Santos was hanging out the passenger side, giving fire.
"Run!" he breathed. Seeing Tai still standing and looking at the approaching jeep, he grabbed her arm and roughly pushed her forward. "RUN!" They took off, racing across the open stretch of land. As Sark heard the jeep draw closer and closer, he realized they weren't going to make it. He cursed himself for buying such large property.
Sark risked a glace back and saw the jeep was only a few feet behind them. Nadia was still firing, but the bumping movement was making it difficult for her to get proper aim. 'Goodbye, Sydney,' he thought sadly. 'Perhaps you should have stayed faithful to Agent Vaughn. He treated you better than I ever managed.'
But, just as he was ready for death, he heard the miraculous noise of the jeep turning off. "Vaughn, no!" screamed Nadia. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm going to break his neck!" came the furious voice of Michael Vaughn. Sark could have laughed in sheer joy. If Vaughn thought he had a chance in one on one combat, he was about to make a serious mistake.
The halting of the vehicle, gave Nadia a serious advantage, however. She was finally able to get a clear shot. As Vaughn pursued the fleeing terrorists, she took one good shot, and pierced the back of Tai's neck. Sark continued, running, not even giving her a backwards glance. She could go and rot with her lover in hell. With the death of the last member of the Guild, he was finally assured of Sydney's safety. He had almost reached the helicopter, when Vaughn hollered at him. "Sark, wait!"
And for reasons Sark never really understood, he stopped and turned to face Vaughn. Perhaps, he later reasoned, he felt he owed Sydney's shunned lover that much. He could truly appreciate how Vaughn was feeling, because every day he was sure Sydney would come to her senses and return to this man. The man who had never had questionable morals and who had never put her friends in danger or to their deaths. "What do you want, Agent Vaughn?" he inquired wearily. "A duel to the death or just mortal injury?"
"I want her back," he demanded. "Where is she?"
"Safe," Sark replied. "And that is all that need concern you."
"I'm her boyfriend, for God's sake," Vaughn argued. "Can you not ever see happiness without wanting to destroy it? Could you not have just let us be? Fine. I don't care if you wanted to escape CIA custody, or even if you wanted to kidnap Sydney. But why are you seducing her? Do you actually think one day she won't wake up and realize she's sleeping with a cold-blooded killer? One day she's going to realize the man who she really loves is standing right here." Vaughn gestured to himself.
Sark hesitated, trying to battle his emotions. Normally Vaughn was very inadept at inciting any sort of emotion in Sark, unless it was cruel amusement. But he could finally relate how it felt to be in love with Sydney Bristow, and Vaughn had hitched immediately upon Sark's greatest fear. That he would lose Sydney when she realized exactly what sort of a man he was. "I am sorry for your loss, Agent Vaughn," he said, and only just managed to hide his surprise that he was entirely earnest in his apology.
"You're sorry?" Vaughn cried in ridicule. "Well, thanks, Sark. That makes me feel a hell of a lot better. I don't want your apologies, I want her. Now just tell me where she is."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Sark said, trying to be cordial.
"And why is that?" Vaughn asked through clenched teeth.
"Well, you would undoubtedly try to stage some sort of rescue, and I can't allow that," he explained. Over Vaughn's shoulder, he saw Nadia heading towards them with trepidation, having finished securing Tai. "This may have started out as some petty attempt to get revenge on you for Lauren, but I've really only just realized something standing here looking at you."
"And what is that?" Vaughn demanded, trying to discreetly fumble for his gun and failing miserably. Sark's still hung limply in his hand and he prayed he wouldn't have to use it.
"I am in love with Sydney Bristow and she with me," he announced unabashedly. "And if you ever try to 'rescue her,' I will have no choice but to kill you. And I know that would upset her to no end."
With an angry snarl, Vaughn whipped his gun out, clearly intending to finish it. But Sark was far too quick for him. He brought the gun up and fired two wild shots in succession. Vaughn let out a grunt and then crumbled to the ground. Sark hastily knelt beside him and searched desperately for a pulse. He found none and prayed desperately that his impulses had not ended the man's life.
"VAUGHN!" screamed Nadia, running towards them. She had her own gun out and was firing angrily at Sark. Deciding his time was up and that the doctors at the CIA could do more good for Vaughn than he could, Sark turned and ran. He leapt up into the helicopter.
"Go, Hans, go!" he ordered. The chopper lifted up, and Sark stayed kneeling at the edge, watching with a feeling of dread in his stomach as Nadia knelt by the crumpled form of Agent Vaughn, desperately checking for vital signs.
"You sure kicked his ass, boss," Hans said in his congratulatory way.
"Yeah," Sark said, taking his seat. He could never remember feeling so depressed and disappointed in himself. "I guess I did." He shook his head, and then angrily scrubbed at his eyes that seemed to be filling with tears. "Take me to the airport, Hans. I need to get a plane to Havana."
"Roger that, sir."
Havana
Sydney turned up the radio to full blast, allowing the sound of 'Mr. Brightside' by the Killers to blast throughout the evening Havana countryside. She had spent quite a few hours tearing around Cuba in the Lexus. There was nothing Sydney liked more than fast cars. She missed Sark quite a bit, and hated sleeping in her empty bed every night. It was when she was alone in the dark that guilty images of Vaughn would haunt her. Or even worse, she would see Sark, laying dead or grievously wounded, at the hand of Tai Ichiniwa. But the worst dream she had yet to experience was one that woke her in a cold sweat. Sark was laying dead at the feet of Vaughn, who held a smoking gun and wore a victorious grin.
She shook her head angrily and turned the music up some more. There was no point on dwelling on nightmares, for they were very seldom repeated in real life. And unlike her dreams shortly after returning from her time in the Covenant, Sydney could recognize that the nightmares were just that- dreams. Besides, she had the warm Havana days to be thankful for- full of long, fast car rides, swims in the afternoon, shopping in the morning, and spending every waking moment finally being able to relish in the tourist industry. Unfortunately, just as she had managed to get her spirits up, the radio switched for a sad and dreary ballad by some pop star with a haunting voice. Shivering despite the warm night breeze, Sydney switched the radio off. Checking to make sure the deserted road she was on remained just that, she performed a spectacular wheelie in the middle of the desert and headed for home.
She hadn't been out driving for long, and with the pedal to the ground, she reached the terracotta house in under ten minutes. She turned off the ignition and retrieved a shopping bag from the back seat. She had discovered an excellent bookstore and had picked up a few historical fictions to pass the evenings until Julian returned. She locked the door and headed to the front door, juggling her bag and purse to push her keys into the lock. She frowned when she realized it was unlocked. She knew for a fact she had locked the front door. Immediately she tensed, feeling her finely tuned senses kick into overdrive.
She was dressed in a jean skirt and a grey tank top, certainly not the most sensible outfit for hand combat. She dropped the keys into her purse and exchanged them for a hand pistol. Despite Sark's assurances that she would be perfectly safe in his home, she was not a woman who could feel protected without the presence of one of her guns. And she had many, though all were in Los Angeles. This was one Sark had left her before leaving. She had an unexpected pang for her old house, Nadia and their neighbour Eric. As she pushed open the front door, her last thought was wondering if Nadia and Eric had moved on any in their relationship. Then she banished it, concentrating on discovering the intruder.
She didn't have to go far to find him. The intruder was sitting in the living room watching the news. She identified him easily. And when she did, all thoughts of guns or family were pushed from her head. He stood with a wide smile, she dropped her shopping things and the revolver and threw herself into Julian Sark's outstretched arms. It wasn't until she was safe in his arms and he had lifted her up and swung her around that she realized exactly how much she had missed him. He kissed her cheek and then put her down, to have easier access to her lips.
"Hey, baby," she greeted when they parted. "I wasn't expecting you home so soon." He had barely been gone three days.
"I couldn't stay away," he grinned, kissing her again. She held him at shoulder's length and looked him up and down.
"Well, my initial inspection shows no sign of injury," she smiled, relieved.
Sark pulled her closer, sensuality in his every movement as he grinded his pelvis into hers. "Would you like to make a more thorough inspection?" he murmured in her ears.
Only a woman with Sydney's strong will could have resisted his seduction. "Not at the moment," she said briskly, breaking the moment. "I want to know what happened." Ignoring his protests, she led him to the couch and sat him down, snuggling in next to him. "Tell me what happened, and then you can get your sexual pleasure, you horny bastard."
He raised a wry eyebrow in her direction. "There's not much to tell, actually," he admitted. "Leastways, not of my grand deeds. I went to the manor in Innsbruck, and we commenced a meeting the next morning. Things weren't going exactly the way I planned, honestly. But before my life was in serious danger, we were interrupted by some friends of yours."
"Who?" Sydney asked, eager to hear any news of her old friends.
"Oh…you know…your father, Eric Weiss, Marcus Dixon, your sister, and, my personal favourite, Michael Vaughn," Sark listed them off. "They did their job very well. I was the only one to escape. Which was for the best. Tai had learned of our current whereabouts. She was going to either kill me or force me to turn you over. I was in a rather tight spot."
"And now she's dead?" Sydney asked anxiously, glancing around half expecting to see men in black scale down from the roof.
"Shot by your sister, actually," Sark informed her. "And Weiss took out Poladski."
"What about Joshua Frou?"
"Oh…well. I took care of him the previous night," Sark admitted. "We had a slight disagreement and…well, to make a long story short, he ended up with one of my bullets in his head."
Sydney didn't ask him to elaborate, she was only relieved that he was dead. She and Sark were safe to remain together in Havana. "And…what of the people from APO?" she inquired, worriedly. "Were they all fine?"
Sark hesitated before answering. "I believe so," he finally replied. "Eric Weiss took a shot to the leg- one of Tai's- but I think he should recover."
Sydney let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. "Thank God," she grinned. "And what about Vaughn? How was he?"
Seeing the look on Sark's face, she thought in hindsight it was not perhaps the most tactful thing to ask of her new lover. The look quickly faded and Sark kissed her on the forehead. "He's perfectly fine," he assured her. "Didn't suffer a scratch. Though he seemed eager to give me one."
"Well, I suppose he would be," Sydney said. She tried to keep her tone light, but she wasn't sure she quite succeeded. She turned to Sark, wearing a seductive grin. "Now, what was that you were saying about a more…thorough…inspection?" She began to pull the grey dress shirt he wore out of his pants, but he pulled her hand up to his lips and kissed it.
"Oh, that's no good now, love," he chided teasingly. "Now you have to come and see what surprise I have for you out back." He pulled her up and led her out on into the backyard.
"I love surprises," Sydney smiled.
"I know," whispered Sark. "Now, close your eyes."
Their back yard bordered on one of the many beaches in Cuba. Sark led Sydney down to the beach now, never letting go of her hand. Sydney felt perfectly safe being guided by him. They stopped shortly after grains of sand began running through her toes. "Okay, now open them," he instructed.
They were standing in front of a picnic blanket. There were little candles lit surrounding the blanket and a picnic basket. "Surprise," whispered Sark, drawing Sydney into his arms.
They dined together on the beach, serenaded by the sound of the waves breaking on the beach. Dinner was good, and Sark insisted he had cooked it entirely by himself, though Sydney wasn't entirely sure she believed him. There was also a bottle of champagne which they had gotten half way through by the end of the meal. Sark poured them each another glass as talk turned to their families.
"I think you and every other spy know all about my family," Sydney shrugged. "Including, the fact that my father…murdered…my mother."
"Only because she was plotting your murder," Sark said quickly, though he found it difficult to believe that, even of Irina.
"Was that supposed to be comforting?" Sydney asked wryly. In some ways though, she had come to accept her mother's death. She heard a little voice inside her head remind her that Vaughn had played a huge part in that acceptance. Her heart, however, was quick to tell the voice to shut the hell up.
Sark pulled Sydney to him, kissing her gently. He ran his hands up and down her arms, working warmth back into them. "No, but that was," he said, breaking the kiss.
"Well, it worked…a little," she admitted with a soft smile. "What about you, Julian? I knew your father. What was your mum like?"
"My mother was a perfect angel," Sark said softly, emotion lacing his voice. "You would have loved her. She was a little like Emily Sloane. And like Emily, her evil husband was devoted to her."
"Your father wasn't evil," Sydney contradicted Sark gently.
"Perhaps not," Sark shrugged. "But he never had any great love for me. I will never begrudge him for not loving my mother enough, though. He gave her everything she wanted, especially when she fell ill. He even built her a holiday home in the South Pacific. We spent many happy summers there, on Samoa Island. I still go back there sometimes, when the world just gets too much to handle. Its my own personal sanctuary."
"I think it was the one place we could go where we could forget about my mother's illness, my father's job and the fact that I was turning into a world class teenage delinquent. If I could go back…I would have been so much better to her. I didn't know how much I loved her until the day she died."
Sydney looked up, startled to see the tears shining in Julian's eyes. "After her death, I think the last hope of my improvement was wiped out. My father sent me to a year round boarding school and shortly after my high school graduation, Irina found me." He shrugged. "The rest is history."
"Your mother loved you, Julian," Sydney said confidently. "And I'm sure she knew you loved her."
"How can you be sure?" Sark inquired rhetorically. "You can't. It is just one of the many regrets I must live with."
Sydney rolled over, so she was sitting in Sark's lap. "What about me, Julian?" she inquired, pressing her forehead to his. "Am I going to be one of those many regrets?"
Sark captured her lips in a kiss. "Don't be foolish, love," he said in a whisper. "You see, I love you. Possibly more than I have ever loved anything in my entire life. Which would make it very difficult to regret you or anything about you." He drew her to him in a fierce embrace and kissed the top of her head.
"Well, then I guess we're going to be all right," Sydney sighed contentedly into his chest.
Sark looked down at the exquisite woman in his arms, and felt the guilty conscience become even heavier. His thoughts wandered again to Michael Vaughn who was surely dying. But for fear of losing her, he made his voice happy and light. "Yes, so it would appear, my love."