Believe

Chapter Eight

Deserving

Sark and Rogan were returning to their hotel room. The Council meeting had adjourned and would be reconvened the next day. Rogan didn't care about when he had to go back, he was just happy to be away from his grandmother and Cole. The sun was setting on the city, the orange glow warming Rogan's face, giving him an angelic appearance. Oddly enough, shadows fell on Sark's. Rogan remained quiet while Sark processed what he had read during the meeting. It had been almost unbelievable to him. Rambaldi's teachings always were. Yet, Sark was positive something was missing. The Prophecy seemed to have been edited. Of course, he had no proof other than the fact The Prophecy didn't exactly make sense. Like a major event had been left out. Sark also took into consideration that Irina was the one who presented them with The Prophecy. Irina, the only one who had see The Prophecy before the rest of them, one who had been a member of The Council long before he had joined. The amount of trust he put into the woman was nonexistent. Irina didn't deserve his trust. He wouldn't put it past her to remove parts of The Prophecy that she didn't want him to know. She would play him easily if she thought it would further Rambaldi's works. Sark knew that and it irritated him to no end. He was not a pawn for Irina to play. That woman would not use him. He was independent and he understood the dangers of partnering with Irina. He had done it before and it had landed him in CIA custody for two years. Of course, that was how his relationship with Sydney began. Then, again, that relationship was more or less severed with the kidnapping of her son, but he wouldn't dwell on that fact. Actually, he could rationalize it. He was protecting Rogan with him there. Rogan's contact with Irina would be limited and mostly supervised. He was looking out for Sydney's interests, even if she didn't see it the same way. Sark nearly chuckled at his ability to rationalize the situation. He had never really wanted to justify his actions before. He had never needed to. But Rogan seemed to be attached to him like a sudden conscience. Maybe it was his wide amber eyes that stared at him so much like his mother's. Maybe it was Rogan's apparent trust in him. No one trusted him. His reputation of his ruthless actions and flexible loyalties often preceded him. It didn't bother him. Surprisingly, Rogan's trust did. Maybe it was Rogan's innocence. Sark didn't associate with innocent people. No one in their business was innocent anymore. He seemed almost drawn to the childlike purity of Rogan's personality. Sark glanced down at the boy and ruffled his hair almost affectionately. He remembered his own mother gently brushing his blond curls back from his forehead. That memory was now tainted by the truth of his mother's life, but it wasn't the time to think of Alecksandria. Rogan smiled up at him at the feeling of Sark's hand, stopping Sark's tumultuous thoughts of his mother.

"Can I call Mommy? I want to ask her sumpin'."

"What is it you wish to ask her?"

Rogan looked away from Sark guiltily and started at his velcroed shoes. Sark noticed the changed immediately. Rogan was young and he hadn't yet learned the art of hiding his emotions yet. He didn't know he had a 'tell'. Rogan didn't answer, as if he hoped the question would vanish and Sark would give him a phone to contact his mother.

"Rogan, you must inform me of your reasons in contacting your mother before I even consider giving you permission."

Rogan gnawed on his puffy bottom lip as he tried to choose his words. He didn't want to upset Mr. Sark and he was never quite sure what angered him, other than his grandmother's presence.

"Well, I wanted to tell Mommy 'bout meetin' Grandma and Cole and I wanted to ask her if I could learn 'bout my daddy here."

"Learn about your father?"

"Yep. Cole said that it was your jobs to teach me 'bout him."

"Did he now?"

"Mhm. But Mommy never tells me 'bout Daddy. So I doan wanna make'r mad. Or sad."

Sark considered what Rogan was telling him. Cole was already trying to turn Rogan into a Rambaldi follower. Or fanatic, depending on the point of view. Sark could remember Irina introducing him to Rambaldi. She had made the whole story of Rambaldi seem like some sort of mystical fairy tale come to life. He had been skeptical at first, chalking it up to being a fairy tale like Rip Van Winkle that his English teacher wanted to teach him. But he was soon shown the power of Rambaldi and he had become a dedicated follower of the prophecies. In a way, he hadn't changed in his pursuit of Rambaldi, but he was definitely more skeptical of Irina than he had been. He didn't fully trust in the prophecies anymore either. He didn't like the image of being a puppet on a string being controlled by a 14th Century prophet. He was in control of his own life and his own destiny. There would be no forced, oblivious actions in his life. Sark took Rogan's hand to cross the street as they reached their hotel.

"You can't contact your mother yet. I appreciate your cautiousness in dealing with Irina and Cole. You should continue being cautious. And if you are not sure what they say is true, wait and inquire to me at a later time."

Rogan stared at him tiredly and a bit dejectedly.

"Cheer up, old man. It is going to be all right. You can talk to Sydney in the near future."

Sark glanced back down at him, to see if Rogan looked any more comfortable. He met Rogan's sparkling brown eyes just as the little boy started to giggle.

"Did I say something amusing, Rogan?"

"You called me old man! I'm not old!"

Sark actually smiled as the little boy lost himself in a fit of carefree giggles.

Sydney was almost frantic now. The gravity of the situation had finally hit her. She'd finally accepted that Rogan was gone, but she wasn't able to accept that Julian Sark was the responsible party. It wasn't that she didn't believe that he was capable of it. He was the murderous, disloyal Mr. Sark. It was the fact that he had taken her child. After he had helped her find him in the first place, and even killed Sloane for her. Then again, the only reason Sark had really helped her was because she had let him escape from CIA custody. He owed her absolutely nothing anymore, not even common courtesy. They were even. Still, she couldn't help but feel betrayed. Apparently, he didn't feel the same way she had. She'd had trouble accepting her feelings to start with, and now she was even more paranoid of them. She wished she knew where he was so she could show him just how frustrated she was. They had always solved their problems with violence more easily than conversation. Conversation was awkward. Fights were not. But, of course, Sark's whereabouts were unknown. They always were. She had to find him. Fake phone conversations were not good enough for this matter. But how did she locate him? She knew the CIA was pooling their sources and contacts together to find Sark since she'd come to the revelation that he was the one who had taken her child. Actually, they had been looking for him since before her revelation. The search for Irina and McKenas Cole was just as strong, as well. The trio was probably working together. Terrorists and murderers liked to stick together. Despite the CIA's efforts, she felt completely helpless and useless. She couldn't just sit there while everyone else looked for Sark futilely. She knew Sark better than anyone in the CIA and cooperating agencies. If anyone would be able to find the elusive Sark, it was she. Sydney stood from her chair abruptly while groping around the table for a phone. She realized suddenly that she couldn't call for plane reservations from the CIA office. They would be able to track her far too easily. Unfortunately, her cell phone was now smashed into tiny pieces of plastic and wire on the conference room floor, so she couldn't use that either. She opted to find a pay phone to make the reservation before she went to pack. If Sark were trying to hide her son, he would take Rogan somewhere he believed was safe. There was only one place she could think of that Sark thought of as safe. She had always loved England.

Irina rarely felt completely relaxed. She didn't have the time for it. She had a mission to complete, a nearly 35-year mission. The prophecies were falling into place. Rogan-her own grandson-was about to become one of the most powerful people in the world, and he was only three. She was helping him come into that power and she felt proud. She had always believed in Rambaldi and she would be rewarded for that belief soon enough. She'd never felt like she would complete the mission. She had truly wondered in the back of her mind if she would end up like Alecksandria, dead on the floor of a candy store due to betrayal and prophecies. Alecksandria had been raised in Rambaldi and that hadn't protected her. Irina had come into the teachings late, so she felt even less safe, though she wondered if she was more deserving of the reward. She had discovered Rambaldi. Alecksandria had never really chosen to follow Rambaldi, she'd been told to. Irina had chosen the enlightened path. Irina was a major part of the prophecies. Her child was a major part of the prophecies. Irina was the enlightened path, now that she thought about it. Without her, most of Rambaldi's prophecies wouldn't have come true. She wondered if staying with Jack would have changed the whole prophecy. There had been times when she'd been undercover with him, in their marriage that she hadn't wanted to leave. She had sometimes fantasized about staying and forgetting her position in the KGB and the Covenant. But Rambaldi had won out. Rambaldi always did. Irina stretched out comfortably on her office couch as she recalled the part she had kept from Sark and Cole. Neither had needed to know about the part of the prophecy that she had hidden. If Sark knew of it, he might abandon the project. And Cole, well, Cole would definitely abandon it. No amount of loyalty to Rambaldi's teachings would win out over loyalty to himself. She could almost picture the paragraph in her mind.

The child will wield an amount of power unknown by everyone. Childlike innocence will be taken as protective instincts strike him for the Chosen. The Guardian's fatal distraction will bring the child into the power as the Fanatical follows them down the path to safekeeping.

Irina was pleased with the direction the meetings were going. Sark obviously didn't trust her and he had never trusted Cole. And in his distrust, Rogan followed suit. Irina had already seen Sark's protective instincts towards Rogan's, but more enjoyable was Rogan's protective instincts towards Sark. He wanted to stay with Sark, to save him from himself, perhaps. Rogan was incredibly perceptive, and while he didn't understand everything that went on around him, he was picking up on the animosity between the three of them. But Rogan was willing to side with Sark without questioning it, so everything was falling into place. Before Irina knew it, everything would have happened. Everything would be finished. And her life will have meant something. Irina smiled Cheshire cat-like just as a knock on her office door broke her from her thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Irina, it's me."

"Cole. Lovely. Come on in."

Cole entered the room quietly and made his way to sit on the desk. He studied Irina for a moment, unnerved by her smile. She didn't smile often. She wasn't the personality type. And her smile seemed to be telling him something, telling him to run in the other direction.

"Do you need something, Cole?"

Cole paused to consider his words carefully. Questioning Irina's decisions was not an easy thing to do. He was always in danger of having his head blown off for questioning her. Of course, the Prophecy meant for him to be on The Council so he couldn't be killed. That thought occurred to him suddenly and it made him continue.

"Do you think it is wise to let the boy stay with Mr. Sark? He could poison him against us."

"It's wise."

"You don't agree with my belief that Sark could undo everything we teach Rogan about Rambaldi?"
"You forget, Sark is a follower as well."

"Yes, but he doesn't believe in it the way we do, Irina. He doesn't believe in our destiny."
"He will, soon enough. He won't have a choice."

"What if he chooses to run off with Rogan?"

Irina's eyebrows rose interestedly as that smile returned to her face. She actually seemed amused by his questions, which Cole did not understand. Every one of his questions was reasonable. There was no reason for the amusement.

"Then you'll have to follow him."

Irina winked at him before standing up from the couch. She reached out and brushed Cole's cheek sensuously. "You're such an integral part of this, McKenas. Have no fear. You'll be there when Rogan comes into power. Sark won't be able to stop it if he so chose."

"If you're positive about this, Irina."

"I am. As is Rambaldi. It's written."

Irina held open the door for Cole, showing that she wished for him to leave. Cole hesitated before removing himself from the desk. He shuffled some of the papers back into a stack before walking out of the room. Irina shut the door with a satisfying click. Yes. Everything was falling into place.