Believe

Chapter Eleven

Reunited

Sark pulled Rogan along down the pathway. He had managed to avoid any tails to his Whitechapel place, but waltzing around with the boy was not a smart idea. He unlocked the door and motioned for Rogan to go inside. The little boy was exhausted; it was written on his face. All of this travel and mayhem and murder was rough on the child. However, the exhaustion did nothing to slow the boy from exploring the house excitedly. His eyes were wide as they fell over the living room, the curtains, the furniture.

"Where are we, Mr. Sark?" He did a full circle in the hallway, unsure of where he was supposed to go.

"We're at my home in England, Rogan."

"I was wantin' to go see my mommy, Mr. Sark. I miss her, and she prolly misses me, too."

"We'll go see your mother soon. We'll need to talk to her about your meeting Irina and Cole."

"My grandmother? She won't like that much."

"She won't. You're correct." Sark stopped talking and glanced around the house quickly. Something was different in the house. Something that was more different than the usual staleness of a house that hadn't been lived in for a few months. Something wasn't right. The house actually smelled fresh, in fact, it almost smelled like Sydney.

"Mr. Sark, can I –"

"Silence, Rogan."

The little boy's lip protruded at the curt command. He wasn't used to be talked to in such a way, and he felt like he had disappointed Mr. Sark very much. He hated to disappoint people.

He looked up at Mr. Sark, who saw the look on his face.

"I just need you to be quiet, Rogan. There's something wrong here. I need you to sit in the chair right now."

Rogan did as he was told, his hands folded in his lap, his backpack still strapped to his back. He saw Mr. Sark pull out a gun from his jacket and it caused the little boy to shiver. He didn't like it when Mr. Sark had the gun. Something bad had happened the last time it had been out. He watched Sark creep down the hallway, with the gun right in front of him. Soon, Rogan couldn't see Sark anymore. The little boy's heart started to pound. What would happen to him if something went wrong and Sark got hurt? He would be all alone and his mommy would never know where to find him. And he wouldn't know how to find her. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like to never see her again. He couldn't let anything happen to Sark. He had to go make sure everything was okay. He stood up and toddled down the hall in a toddler's version of a run.

Sark slipped into his bedroom last. He had the feeling that was where the intruder was, or had been, but he wanted to make sure he had no surprises when he entered the room. He saw her there, lying across his bed, her eyes closed, but she wasn't asleep. He lowered his gun as soon as he recognized her, all though he wasn't positive that was the best idea. He was far from safe, even if it was Sydney. After he had kidnapped her son, she wouldn't be in the most compliant and kind mood. He wasn't sure what to say to her. He wasn't going to explain himself to her. That wasn't what he did, explain himself. He was a free agent; he could do whatever he wanted without answering to anyone, including Sydney. He stood in the doorway for a moment, and stared at her, his eyes scanning over her form. She shifted slightly, but she still didn't open her eyes. Maybe she didn't know he was there.

"You can say something, Sark. It's not like I can't feel you in the room. I am a spy."

"I wouldn't dream of doubting your ability, Sydney. I just didn't want to disturb you."

"Right. You're so caring and sensitive like that."

"What are you doing here, Sydney?"

"What did you do with my son, Sark?"

As if on cue, Rogan slipped by Sark in the door and ran into the room.

"Mommy! You're here! I missed you lots and lots. Mr. Sark said we couldn't come see you, but I missed you soooo much." He gave Sydney a huge hug, as Sydney enveloped him in her arms, burying her face into his hair. He smelled like her child, he felt like him. He seemed to be unharmed and well-adjusted, like he'd been on a vacation, not kidnapped. She didn't want to let him go, not again, for fear she would lose even more time with him, but he began to struggle in a way that demanded she let go. He hopped off the bed and looked guiltily at Sark.

"I'm sorry I didn't stay in the room, Mr. Sark. I jus thought you were going to get hurt and I didn't want that to happen."

Sark watched him, his eyes almost turning gentle. Of course, they didn't quite, because he was Sark. He knelt down eye level with Rogan.

"Rogan, you are not in trouble. I gave you the command because I want you to stay safe, and you will be wise to follow my orders in the future. However, you are not a bad child. I appreciate your concern for my safety, but I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Next time you will listen to me?"

"Yes, Mr. Sark."

"Good boy. Now run along into the living room. Your mother and I need to talk."

"About me?"

"Yes. Now run along." Sark turned to the shelves and pulled off several of his old toy cars off of them. He handed them to Rogan, who clutched them in his hand like he'd been rewarded. He toddled out into a hall, both Sark and Sydney watching him as he left. Sark waited before turning back to Sydney, but he could feel her eyes on him. They were sharp and burning his back, and Sark knew he should watch his back. Sydney was likely to turn on him any minute. She was that angry. He could feel the anger emitting off of her in waves. He was surprised Rogan hadn't noticed that. The child was observant as far as feelings went. Maybe he was simply blind to his mother's.

"So, Sydney….how have you been?"

Sark was surprised she didn't leap from her place on the bed and punch him in the jaw. He turned to see the look on her face, and she was far from happy with his wry comment.

"Oh, I've been great, Sark. Lovely. You know, with you stealing my son from his pre-school class, while pretending not to have any idea that he'd been taken, my life has been fantastic. And how have you been, lately? I know you've been busy betraying me for my mother, but what else has been going on?"

"I've actually been betraying your mother."

"What are you talking about?"

"You have absolutely no faith in me, Sydney."

"Because I have a reason to put all my faith and trust in you."

Sark moved across the room, a slight shudder running through him. He felt so odd standing in the room of his childhood, while talking to Sydney about such nefarious matters. It almost tainted his memory of the room, the memory of Alecksandria. Not that it hadn't already been ruined. He had always tried to keep this place separate from his life, though, his present life But that was gone now. He couldn't anymore.

"I will not be explaining myself to you, Sydney."

"You don't even have enough respect to tell me why you agreed to steal my child. You tried to warn me, even, at the playground, but I didn't listen to you. What if I had listened to you? Would you have still taken him? Or would you have let him go because I had taken your advice?"

"Don't ask me questions. I won't answer them."

Sydney finally did leap from her seat, and she rushed to his side. She pulled him to her, forced him to look at her. "You can't treat me like this, Sark. You will tell me why you stole my child. When I thought you were more than what you are. When I thought we were more…."

She stopped short, but she refused to look away from him. He would tell her why he did it. If she had to find creative methods of torture, he would talk to her.

"Sydney, this is not important. I have something more important we need to address. I retrieved a Rambaldi manuscript. The true one, not a version that your mother finds convenient to show me. We need to work on translating it completely, as soon as we can, so we can find out what Irina's endgame is."

"You have absolutely got to be joking."

"I don't really kid."

She gave him a hard stare. She couldn't believe he was babbling about Rambaldi pages again. When would this man, this dead man, stop tormenting her life?

"I am not discussing Rambaldi with you. We are discussing why you stole my child."

"Rambaldi has everything to do with that, so if you really want a reason for me to steal the child, you will help me translate. This needs to be translated as soon as we possibly can. Irina is going to discover what I've done, and she'll send someone after us."

"You have put my son into more danger than he's been in his entire life, and I do include his time with Sloane."

"Did you ever think that I have protected him from being harmed? That maybe I…" He slowed his outburst, refusing to explain himself to the woman.

"Sydney, your mother is not going to harm Rogan. He is important in the Prophecy. He is safe from Irina. We, however, are not. Time is of the essence."

She seemed to be debating what he was saying, knowing it was true.

"I will help you translate the document, Sark, but after we read it, you will tell me why you took Rogan. That is the only deal we will be making. If you don't accept it, I will take Rogan and we will leave you here for my mother to come and kill you."

Sark's smirk appeared on his face. Now that was the Sydney he had fallen in love with. The one with the fire and no-nonsense attitude in her logic.

"I accept the terms."