Sydney Bristow stared at the man before her silently. She hadn't expected Sark to be there, but then again, big decisions that were outside the law always seemed to have him involved in some way.

She took in his full appearance. Blood was caked in his disheveled golden blond hair. His bottom lip was swollen and heavily bleeding and a large bruise was forming on his left cheek. This was definitely not his normal, suave appearance that he presented on most occasions. "So I'm guessing it was you who got double crossed this time Sark." She said in an amused tone. "I'm almost sorry I had to butt in and ruin MacLean's fun."

Sark's blue eyes met hers, a smile playing across his lips. "Sydney, I'm sure I could have managed without your presence, as welcome as it is."

Just hearing him speak made Sydney want to shoot him right then and there. When he said her name in his deep British accent, it always sent shivers down her back and that alone made her want to kill him.

While Sydney was lost in her own world, Sark had walked towards MacLean and threw down the gun he had been holding. He pulled MacLean's head back by his hair. MacLean was still whimpering, though his leg had finally stopped bleeding.

Sark bent down past MacLean to pick up his own gun that lay discarded at MacLean's side. Casually he raised himself so that his mouth was close to MacLean's ear. "You're one lucky fuck." He said in a barely audible whisper. "If Miss Bristow wasn't present, you can be sure that your leg wouldn't be the only painful sensation in your body." With that said, Sark threw back MacLean's head as if it was something truly repulsive.

Sark heard a faint click from behind him. He turned around to see Sydney pointing her gun at him poised to fire. His lips curved into a smile. "I see you've finally come to your senses."

"Shut up Sark." Sydney spat. "Just drop the gun and get your hands over your head."

"And what if I don't comply with your humble request? Are you going to shoot me?" The whole situation was very humorous to him and he wanted to let her know that just because he knew it would rouse her.

"You know I will if I have to Sark. Back up will be coming soon, so quit asking stupid questions and just do it!"

Sydney was growing agitated with every passing moment and Sark could tell. "Getting a little impatient are we? You know, maybe I'm just a little paranoid but I think you're lying about every thing that you just said."

Sydney's confidence was a little bit shaken. How could he possibly know that, she hadn't let on any hints or anything else that would prove otherwise. "Well it's obvious to me that you're perception is off, I mean why wouldn't I kill you? And why would you think I don't have backup?"

"It's obvious isn't it? I'm much too valuable to just kill off, daddy Bristow wouldn't be very happy if you came back with only my deceased body. What good am I to him dead? And I suppose I should answer the other question just to kill two birds with one stone."

Sark paused for a moment. By this time Sydney was utterly flustered. Why was he always right? Why did he always have to be right? Most of her wanted to call him a pompous, ass who thought he was way better looking than he actually was. But the other half knew that he was right and that she was just being bitter. But of course, she let her first half get the better of her. "Well, I'm waiting, where's your brilliant deduction?" She said testily.

"Calm yourself, no need to be hasty. I was just looking for an adequate way to phrase this. Well, first of all, you're not wearing the traditional CIA color which is of course black on black."

It was true. Sydney stood there in a faded gray sweatshirt and a pair of blue track pants. When her contact had told her of MacLean's whereabouts, she hadn't really bothered with the proper attire.

Meanwhile Sark continued. "Also, when someone is wearing an ear piece of some sort, which you CIA almost always do, I can tell. It's something in the eyes that gives it away. The only thing I really can't get my head around is why you're even here in the first place. MacLean hasn't been on CIA radar in a very long time, so I have to assume that your business with him was strictly personal. Sark paused again to look at Sydney. "You wouldn't by any chance be willing to share?"

Sydney scowled and Sark heard a distinct click signifying that she had taken the safety off of her gun. She didn't like the way this conversation was going. Sark was too smart for his own good.

"I suppose that's a no." Sark sighed. "Sydney just let me go and I won't tell anyone that we were here. You and me, oh and of course this sad bastard here," Sark paused kicking at MacLean, "is the only ones who know about this. So lets just be done with the matter shall we?" Sark turned to walk away.

Two gun shots rang out into the desert air. Sark froze momentarily turning around to find Sydney charging at him. He didn't have time to react and was hurled backwards into the sand with Sydney on top of him, knocking the wind out of him. "Sydney what the..." Sark started but was stopped as her fist connected with his forehead resounding in a loud crack. The last thing he saw was Sydney standing above him, and then everything faded into darkness.

Sydney wiped the sand off of her self and moved to pick up the gun she had flung onto the sand before tackling him. "Sorry Sark," she said re holstering the gun to her side, "it's nothing personal. Oh wait, yes it is."