This story is after season three but everyone still works for the CIA and not at APO, just to clear some things up

A sleek, silver Mercedes Benz convertible sped down the nearly empty 101 towards LA, barely staying within the speed limit.

Sydney ran a hand through her hair her other hand gripping the wheel. The sun had just begun to rise and Sydney found herself trying to suppress a large yawn, it had been a long night. She glanced over for a second at the unconscious form of Sark, slouched down in the passenger seat. She was only half concentrating on the road, while trying to think of a sufficient alibi as to why she was bringing the assassin Julian Sark to the CIA without any notice.

Sark stirred in his seat. He opened his eyes slowly only to be met by darkness. He could tell that his hands and legs were bound by the tight, chaffed feeling he felt on his wrists and ankles. He took a deep breath and almost gagged. His nostrils were filled with a rancid smell that he couldn't even place. Then he remembered everything. Sydney had obviously placed a bag over his head. "Damn CIA and their secrecy." He mumbled under his breath.

He tried to sit up but was rewarded for his efforts with a sharp whack to the head. "Stay there!" The agitated voice of Sydney reached Sark's ears. "How conspicuous would it look to someone if they saw a man with a bag over their head?"

"I suppose they might find it a little odd." Sark said. It was an entertaining though. For some reason he didn't feel at all panicked, though he knew he probably should. Jack Bristow was not a very tolerant man. Most feared his interrogations more than death and Sark wasn't exactly on his good side.

"Just stop talking and let me think." Sydney snapped in frustration. As hard as she was racking her brain, she couldn't think of a good enough alibis that would fool her father. "Damn him for being so fucking clever!" She said aloud.

"If you're trying to think up a justification for taking me into custody, you could always say that I attacked out while you were out in public and that you were forced to," here Sark paused and Sydney knew that he trying to suppress a grin underneath the sack, "subdue me." He finally finished. "But you would of course elaborate on the story, for instance, it happened at a grocery store or what have you."

Sydney wanted to feel that Sark was trying to elude her just so that she could yell at him but there didn't seem to be anything wrong with his suggestion. So instead she chose to stare at the road ahead of her silently.

After what seemed like forever the car stopped. Sark listened intently and heard Sydney open the door, get out of the car and then walk around to his side. She opened the door and dragged him out. "A park." She said abruptly.

"What?"

"My father wouldn't believe that you attacked me in the grocery store, the park is a better place."

"Fine, I'm indifferent anyways, either way I'm getting beaten to a bloody pulp and I've resigned myself to that fact."

Sydney dragged him through the parking lot to the elevator. She punched in the code and stood there waiting for the metallic doors to open. She couldn't deny the fact that she was nervous. If her father found out she was lying, then she would have to revert to the truth and tell him everything and that was what she was trying to avoid at all costs.

The doors finally opened. Sydney looked up and was greeted with the sight of four CIA members storming out of the elevator, guns in hand. Three of them grabbed Sark from her and roughly pushed him into the elevator. "Into the lion's den we go." Sydney heard Sark mutter before the doors closed.

The fourth man turned to her. "Sydney, are you ok? Sark didn't hurt you did he?" He asked breathlessly.

"Vaughn," Sydney said slowly, a smile appearing on her face, "I'm fine." Then Vaughn pulled her into a hug.

A few seconds later they pulled away and just stood there, staring at each other. Sydney wasn't sure where she and Vaughn stood. Lauren was gone so they were free to do as they pleased. But something kept holding her back from starting up a relationship with him again.

"So," she said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "I guess we better go up and see what my father can get out of Sark."

Vaughn nodded and they entered the elevator together.

Even though the jail cell was dark, Sark's eyes still stung a little once the bag came off of his head. He had been thrown into the jail cell and handcuffed to a cement pole, both hands behind him. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions but he by now he was used to the CIA's method. God knows he had been taken in enough times.

The door to his cell opened and he found himself staring at a pair of feet. He didn't feel like he had the strength to look up and it wasn't like it was a surprise as to who it was. "Jack, good to see you again."

He saw the foot start to move but didn't have the strength or space to move so it caught him in the jaw, snapping his neck upward.

As he stared up at the ceiling he felt around his mouth with his tongue hoping that none of his teeth had gotten knocked loose. He could taste the blood on his lips. It had come to be a familiar taste to him, something as normal as peanut butter or ketchup.

The deep, cold, collected voice of Jack Bristow reached his ears. "Tell me who sent you after Sydney, now."

"That's what I like about you Jack; you always just get down right to the point." Sark commented dryly.

The smart remark got him a swift kick to the stomach causing him to get the wind knocked out of him. He leaned over coughing up some blood from his mouth and gasping for breath. "Never a dull moment in your company." He said weakly finally looking up to stare Jack in the eyes.

"I'm not going to ask you again." Jack said coldly. "Who are you working for this time? Why are you after Sydney?"

"So many questions, so little time." Sark could only watch as Jack's curled fist zoomed towards his face. He began hitting Sark with both hands. He felt like a rag doll as his head was flopping helplessly from side to side.

Sydney watched her father beat Sark. It was pretty grotesque and Sydney had seen some pretty awful things her line of work, she wasn't fazed easily. A part of her felt wrong for letting Sark take this awful beating. He hadn't even done anything, this time.

She found herself uttering the words before she could stop herself. "Stop it! Dad, stop!" She yelled.

Her father put down his hands and turned away from the barely conscious Sark to face her. "Sydney, there's no other way to make him talk."

"Give me a couple minutes with him alone and I'll get it out of him." She said slowly.

Vaughn grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. "Sydney what are you doing? Let your dad handle this. I don't want you alone with him."

Sydney brushed Vaughn's hands away. "No, I really want to do this." Jack look at his determined daughter in defeat.

"Ok." He said quietly. "Open the door Vaughn."

Vaughn looked from Jack to Sydney, and incredulous look on his face. "Are you both crazy?" He asked in an almost desperate tone. "You know what Sark's capable of; you know what he did to you Sydney, to me, to everyone!" Now he was almost yelling.

"Vaughn please." Sydney pleaded with him. "Just open the door for me."

He gave her the coldest stare she had ever seen and without saying another word opened the door for Sydney. Then he briskly pushed past her and left the cells.

Jack started to follow him, stopping to put a hand on Sydney's shoulder. "Good luck." Then he swiftly made his exit.

Sydney approached Sark's motionless form, shutting the cell door behind her. "Ok Sark, it's just you and me now and I want some answers."