Cold-Blooded Killer

A/N: Thanks for reviewing, I hope you guys like it.

FYI: This is a Sarkney story, but I don't have any Vaughn bashing.

Disclaimer: I only own my tooth brush and computer. Alias and its characters belong to JJ.

The Tale: Part Two

Sark sat on his steel bed, counting the tiles on the floor. Of course he knew that there where forty-seven tiles, but the process of counting had always calmed. It was a way to soothe, to rid him of his claustrophobia, the only way to remain in control of his mind.

He was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat, glancing up he saw Agent Vaughn, who seemed to be consumed with wrinkles on his forehead. Sark leaned against the wall, totally comfortable with remaining silent. He had nothing to say to this insufferable prat.

"If you think this gives you an inside to Sydney's life, you would be very wrong." Vaughn wasn't speaking, he was hissing.

"Is that a shred of jealously I hear in your voice. I am surprised; I would think you would be in control. After all you are a free man, and I am a caged animal." Sark interlaced his fingers, and smirked.

Vaughn was seething; Sark knew exactly which buttons press with Agent Vaughn.

"I find it marvelous that I have such control over you, from a glass cage. The satire is amazing, quiet entertaining." Sark was pushing it, and Vaughn was falling into the trap.

"You think you are so intelligent, ask yourself this, why Sydney wants to know?"

Sark grinned internally; Vaughn was letting his cards show. He was fishing, trying to see what sort of bond had been forged in his absence. "So I take it you don't have clearance to watch the sessions between Syd and myself." He made a point to emphasize her name. The comment had the preferred affect of the CIA officer; he turned and stormed out of the hallway.

In fact he stormed all the way to the OP's Center, right up to Sydney's desk where he glared at her, full force.

"What?" She looked up from her paperwork, confused to see her boyfriend so upset. "Is everything ok?"

"No, everything is not fine. I don't want you having anymore session with Sark!" Vaughn was being irrational.

Sydney rose and grabbed his arm, looking around to see if anyone had over heard. She dragged him into an interview room, closing the door firmly behind them, and then pulled out a pen, clicking it on.

"Vaughn, what the hell is wrong with you. That is classified information, which I only told you as a courtesy. And now, you're running around screaming at me, hell, half of APO heard you." She breathed deeply and tired to calm down.

"Syd, I didn't mean to lose control. I just don't understand why you choose this assignment! I don't understand how you can sit in the same room as him and not want to kill him!" He wasn't meeting her eyes; he looked past her to the back wall.

She sighed, taking his hand in hers, "Vaughn, what I don't understand is why YOU feel threatened by Sark." She caressed his face, placing a soft kiss on his lips; he starred into her eyes, still sullen. "I need you to trust me. I can't with good conscious just let this go. I want to know what happened to Sark, I want to give a chance to be a good person."

He was still unhappy, but wrapped his arms around her. "I just don't want you to get attached, at the end of the week the result will be the same." He paused, cupping her face and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I have no idea what Sloane was thinking by agreeing to this."

Leaning into Vaughn Sydney relaxed, "He was thinking, everyone deserved a chance for confession." It was barely a whisper, more to herself than to Vaughn; she needed to convince herself of what she was doing. In her heart she knew it was more than just a chance to confess for him, it was a chance for her to see into her own past, her motherless past.

Sydney understood that if Irina had taken her along when she had left, that she would most likely be standing here with Sark, and Vaughn would be in the one in the cage. The frightening thing was that she didn't know which life she would have preferred.

The high pitched beep of the pen brought them apart, and she smiled at him, "Lunch?"

"Sure. You want me to get Nadia and Weiss?" She gave a quick nod, and they strode out of the room together.

"Hey, I'll be right back, ok?" She hoped he wouldn't ask where she was going. He smiled and headed to Weiss who was laughing with Nadia.

Sydney strode to her desk and pulled out a brown paper sack; and headed towards the containment cells. The guards cleared her and the sack, and she began to walk down the corridor to his cell.

Sark was sitting on the floor in a meditative pose her mother had so often used. "Brought you some lunch."

He looked up and awarded her with a smile, "I was getting tired of the same old thing. So what's for lunch?"

She smiled her first genuine smile all day. "Let's see, I have a thermos of Russian broshe, chicken sandwich, and some potato salad, all homemade."

He smiled wider, "May I ask how you know my favorite foods?"

She stopped and the smile left her face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Because they are my favorites too. I guess that's mom for you, always making the same stuff."

"Thank you, I know this isn't typical CIA procedure. I appreciate…"

"You don't need to thank me; I just wanted to do something nice." With that she passed the food through a tray portal, and he picked it up on the other side.

"Sorry there isn't a fork, but I did get you a spork." She smiled apologetically.

"Not a problem, sporks are far more fun." He sat and opened the soup, taking a spoon full.

"Just like your mothers…" she nodded.

"She taught me how to make it when I was little, and then I had her recipes box… well I should get going. Nadia is waiting for me." He smiled.

"I'll see you later."

"Ok." Sydney left and returned to her world.

Jack stood in the security room, watching the feed from Sark's cell. This wasn't good; Sydney was getting attached to Sark. She would have a hard choice to make; he wished he could make it for her.

He walked out and headed for Sloane's office.

He poked his head into the room, "Arvin, you needed to talk to me?"

Sloane raised his eyes and motioned Jack inside, "Do you think everything is alright?"

"Yes, why?"

"I am worried about Sydney; she seems to be getting attached to Sark. I think we should stop her visits to him, I don't want her to be hurt." Sloane sat, fingers locked together.

"Arvin, this was her idea. I think we should let her do it, if that is what she wants."

Sloane reclined in his chair, glazing at a picture of Nadia, which adorned his desk. "I don't understand your reluctance; you of all people should know that this is an unnecessary risk."

"How is this situation a risk? Sydney knows what she is doing, and it is time for her to make her own decisions."

"What do we do if she decides she can't abide by the courts decision?" Sloane sounded worried.

"I believe it is time to let Sydney make her own choices. She has been in this spy world for many years, and it is time to let her do as she wants. If she chooses to leave APO after Saturday then I will support her, if she wants to remain here I will try to help her. Maybe she can become a handler, or analyst; after the last bout of injuries she confided in me that she is ready to leave. All I can do it support her, and I hope you agree with me on that!" Jack moved in the chair, trying to sound confident. But in truth he was just as worried as Sloane was. He didn't know how Sark's fate would affect his daughter.

"Fine, I won't interfere but I will monitor it carefully." Sloane motioned with his hand and Jack rose to leave.

"Thank you Arvin, I won't forget this. If you or Nadia ever need anything just ask."

"Jack I am not doing this as a favor to you. Believe it or not I want Sydney to be happy; I would protect her as my own daughter. You don't owe me anything." Sloane didn't look up, just starred at his daughter's picture.

A/N: Do you guys like it? Please review.