A/N: Higher R for some sexual situations, but I didn't post the whole thing. If you would like to read it, you can either go to the SD1 Boards under the Sark fanfiction, or give me an e-mail. Enjoy!

Chapter 10

"Niki, do you copy?" Simon spoke softly into his com link, glancing around the corner of the hallway he was now in. His gun was poised and ready in his hand. He started walking. "Nikolai?"

"I can hear you just fine, Simon." Nikolai's voice could be heard softly. Simon rolled his eyes inwardly.

"Wouldn't it have been easier if you had just told me you could hear me the first time I asked?" He didn't even know why he was bothering to ask Nikolai this. Nikolai did what he wanted, when he wanted to, and that was that.

"Why don't you just go rescue pretty boy and his girl toy before they get any scratches."

"Why, Nikolai," Simon smirked, "do I hear some concern in your voice?"

"That was sarcasm." Simon just shook his head.

"Sure it was, mate."

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She couldn't breath. Freezing cold water was being forced down her throat, up her nose. She struggled in the chair she was tied to, but she just couldn't get loose. Finally, just as her vision was starting to go black, the water was turned off, the mask removed. She coughed, spitting out water. Her body shook. She was gasping for breath.

"Why are you on this boat? Who sent you?" Douleur spoke softly, as if he wasn't torturing her, as if they were simply talking. Like friends. Like hell, she thought.

"O…k…" she finally spoke, still trying to catch her breath. "I'll…tell you."

"Good, bonne fille." He smiled, but it never came close to meeting his eyes, which looked like they would have been better off with nothing in them, rather then what they had.

"Come closer and I'll tell you." He made the 'tisk, tisk' sound again.

"I will not be fooled by you," he said, the smile now gone. She liked that better. She shrugged.

"Had to try." As he turned to pick up the mask again, Sydney caught Sark's eyes. She nodded to Douleur's back, then at her feet. Sark raised an eyebrow, as if to say 'the show is yours'. She winked as she kicked her legs out, catching Douleur around the neck. She pulled him toward her, the force knocking the chair she was tied in over, taking him with her.

She let him go, reaching her leg up to her hand, she pulled out a small knife. She cut the wire around her wrists, sighing in pleasure as the constant cutting force was gone. She rolled to her side, sliding into a fighting stance. She was barely prepared as Douleur knocked into her, sending them both flying into the wall behind her. A loud thud was heard as her body connected. They both slid to the floor, Douleur on top.

"Sydney!" Sark's voice called to her. She groaned, pushing Douleur off of her, sliding the knife out of his stomach. She finally stood up, making her way over to Sark. She cut his hands free, giving him the knife to do the rest. He turned to her once he was done.

"Are you ok?" She nodded, still trying to catch her breath. They both spun towards the door when it burst open, both prepared to fight. They both relaxed once they saw the intruder.

"Ah, I see you two love-birds are doing just fine." Simon regarded the dead man on the floor. He whistled, eyes turning to Sydney. "Your work I assume?" She nodded. "Nikolai's got the manuscript, says he'll meet us at the hotel."

"Well," he gestured out the door, "shall we?"

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Sydney had just slipped on a pair of shorts when the knocking started. She adjusted her tank top as she made her way to the door. She peeked through the eyehole to see who it was. She swallowed. Sark. She glanced at her appearance in the mirror, which was conveniently located near the door, and instantly regretted it. Her hand fell from her hair. This was Sark, she didn't care how she looked around him. Right. She smoothed her wet hair back as best she could. Maybe she did care…just a little. She opened the door.

"Sark." She noticed he was wearing one of his Armani suits. Typical. But…he did look extremely-

"Sydney?" She shook her head, feeling a blush creeping up her neck. She was thinking about Sark that way, and he was right in front of her to witness it. Wonderful.

"Right, sorry," she opened the door, gesturing for him to come in. He did. She shut the door, noticing he didn't go sit down, just stood in the hallway. "Did you need something?"

"No," he said, "I apologize if I came at a bad time. I wanted to stop by and make sure your shoulder wasn't bothering you."

"It's fine," she unconsciously brought her hand up to touch her shoulder. He stepped closer to her, pointing at her shoulder.

"May I?" She nodded after a moment, and had to bite her tongue to keep from sighing as his hands touched her shoulder. They were warm and rough, but somehow still soft. His fingers glided over her skin, testing the muscles. He continued for a few moments before finally dropping his hands down. "It seems fine."

She could only nod, trying to keep her eyes on his, and not his mouth, which was now only centimeters from his. He brought his hand up, tucking a strand of her wet hair behind her ear. The tension between them skyrocketed.

The first touch of his lips on hers sent a shock wave through her system. His lips were soft, feather light. They were tentative at first. She almost smiled, but instead sighed softly as he increased the pressure of his mouth on hers. She brought her arms up and wrapped them around his neck. Her fingers threaded through his short, curly hair.

He had one hand cupping her cheek, the other on the small of her back. She loved the feeling of his arms around her, holding her. They felt strong, firm, but soft, gentle. He pushed her back against the wall, their bodies were pressed together, his solid one against her soft one. She moaned as his tongue swept across her lower lip, asking permission. She complied, opening her mouth, letting his tongue enter to tangle with her own.

Her senses were on overload. He tasted, surprisingly, like lemons. She couldn't get enough of him. She was addicted. He was new. Exotic. Delicious. She didn't want to take her lips off of his, but the burning need for air was becoming more apparent. Finally, she reluctantly removed her lips from his, the back of her head hitting the wall. His face rested in the nook of her neck, his warm breath pounding fiercely against it.

"We shouldn't be doing this," she said softly, trying to catch her breath. The adrenaline was pumping through her veins wildly. She felt so alive, so…real. She hadn't felt like this in a long time.

"I know," he said, his own breathing still heavy. Before she knew what was happening, his lips were on hers again. This time they were rough, demanding. She loved it. She felt his hand on her lower back slid lower. She removed her lips from his, pushing him backwards until his knees hit the sofa in the small room. He landed on his back, his blue eyes pouring into hers. She fell to her knees over him, one on each side.

She brought her face down to his again, her lips covering his in a demanding gesture. He responded just as demanding, his hands grabbing her hips flush against his. She gasped as she felt the firm length of his erection rub against her thigh. His hands on her hips tightened, and without breaking the contact of their lips, he flipped them over, resting on his forearms above her.

His hand slid under her shirt, making its way over soft skin. His hand glided over her stomach, coming up to her chest. She let out a moan as his hand cupped her breast, his thumb sliding roughly over her nipple. God, this felt so good, so- Sydney pushed Sark off of her, standing up. She kept her back to him as she tried to catch her breath. What the fuck was she doing? She wasn't supposed to…this was wrong, so, so wrong…

"Sydney," Sark's hand on her shoulder brought her out of her thoughts. She shook his hand off, turning around. "Simon would like everyone down at the bar at eight." She nodded, avoiding his eyes. "Right, well…" He walked to the door, shutting it softly behind him. She sighed. What the fuck was she doing?

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Sark swallowed the shot of Bourbon, his mouth tightening as the alcohol coated his throat. He set the glass down, nodding to the bartender for another. Not that it mattered. Consuming a rather large amount of alcohol wasn't going to make him forget what had happened between Sydney and him earlier. Fuck. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, which was getting long.

"Aye," Simon sat down on the stool next to him. He picked up Sark's newly poured Bourbon and downed it. "You look like shit, mate." Sark gave him an unhappy stare. Simon shrugged, "just telling it like it is, Jul. So, care to inform me of anything?"

"No," Sark replied, signaling to the bartender, he looked past Simon, "Nikolai." Nikolai nodded toward a table in the corner of the bar.

"Shall we?" They all stood, heading for the table, Sark followed behind Nikolai; then bumped into him when he stopped all of the sudden. Sark cursed as Nikolai whistled. Sark followed his gaze, landing on a beautiful brunette woman walking into the bar. She had on a simple black dress, her hair hanging freely.

"Damn," Nikolai spoke, "I wouldn't mind taking-" Simon snorted as the woman turned her head; it was Sydney. Nikolai shrugged. "I'd still-"

"Ah, mate," Simon nodded towards Sark, whose eyes were still on Sydney as she walked over to them, "I think she's taken." They laughed as Sark didn't even notice what they had said. Sydney finally made her way over, stopping next to them.

"What are you standing here for?" She raised an eyebrow; she smiled, walking past to the table. They all turned, watching her for a moment before following.

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"That's it?" Sydney finished off her vodka tonic, looking a Simon. He nodded.

"Niki got the manuscript, so yeah, that's done," he took a swig of his beer.

"What now?" She glanced around the table, "Do we go back?" This time Sark nodded, setting down his glass of red wine.

"We'll be taking the jet back to the old house," he said, referring to the house in Italy. Sydney nodded, rising from her seat.

"I'm going to head back to my room," she said, "catch some sleep." They all nodded, watching as she walked out of the bar. Sark swallowed to rest of his wine, and stood as well.

"I have some paper work to do," he said, already walking out of the bar. Simon and Nikolai glanced at each other.

"Interesting relationship they've got going on," Nikolai said, fingering the napkin under his drink. Simon nodded.

"Aye, but their both stubborn little shits; they'll probably kill each other before admitting they love each other." Nikolai smirked, then nodded towards to bar.

"How about we get some shots?" Simon stood.

"Read my mind, mate." They sat down at the bar, signaling to the bar man. He was balding, in his late-thirties, and one of the ugliest men Simon had ever seen in his life. A bottle of Jack Daniels was placed in front of them with glasses. Simon poured; they both downed the small glass. It wasn't until after the third shot that Nikolai spoke.

"So tell me," he fingered the small glass on the table, "how is she?" Simon paused mid-pour, glancing up at Nikolai, expression blank. After a moment he looked back down and finished pouring his drink. He swallowed it before answering.

"And who's 'she', Nikolai?" Simon only used Nikolai's full name when he was being cautious, like now. Nikolai glanced down, pouring himself another drink.

"Ciara," he said, after swallowing the drink, "you get a letter once a year, right?"

"Yeah," Simon finally spoke softly; he ran a hand through his hair, "I usually get the letter by now, but there's nothing so far."

"It's bothering you."

"Aye," Simon sighed, he looked up at Nikolai, "you want to see a picture of her?" At Nikolai's nod, he brought out his wallet, searching through the soft leather before finally finding what he was looking for; a small worn picture. He handed it to Nikolai, who regarded the picture of a smiling woman with a small girl, both with dark hair.

"They look happy," Nikolai said it in a curious tone, almost like he had never heard of anything like it. Simon nodded, a small smile gracing his features.

"Yeah," he said, looking away, "they do."

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Sark stood; setting down the martini he had been drinking, and walked towards the door of his hotel room as someone knocked. He opened it, shock registering on his face as Sydney stood on the other side. She was wearing a black silk robe, tied at the waist; no shoes.

"Sydney-" He never got to finish his sentence as Sydney walked into the room, shutting the door swiftly behind her. She untied her robe, letting it fall to the ground. She stood in only a black lace bra and matching panties. She met his eyes, and he didn't wait a moment longer before moving to her.

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"The plane will be landing shortly, Sir." Sark nodded to the co-pilot, who then left. He glanced around the small cabin. Sydney was asleep on a chair across the aisle from him, her head resting against the window softly. She was wearing a turtle-neck to cover up the damage he had done to her the night before. It was a nasty bite, but he didn't feel that bad about it - he had his own damage - two sets of half-moons dug deeply into his back. He shifted in his seat, trying not to let his back touch.

Simon was working o his laptop, typing away. Nikolai was listening to a pair of headphones, taping his fingerings on the seat in front of him, which just so happened to be Simon's seat, before he moved after five minutes of the tapping. Now was his chance to go talk to Nikolai.

After Simon, Sydney and he had gotten safely off the ship into the small speedboat hidden near it, they were greeted by Nikolai, who held the manuscript in his hand. He had shrugged when asked how he had obtained it, like it was nothing. He had then proceeded to wink and flirt with Sydney the entire way back to the mainland. Sark had been annoyed, and had gone to see Sydney later which had led to…what happened between them.

He knew it was wrong, but the touch of her lips on his…he was addicted. He knew he would never be able to get enough of it. She tasted like something sweet, something wild. He had never kissed a woman like Sydney before. She took his breath away. He knew the moment they kissed, he would never want to kiss anyone else. He knew he shouldn't have kissed her, but…he couldn't help it. She was like a magnate, a force of nature he lived to touch - and he needed to stop if he wanted to be comfortable the rest of the flight.

Think about Nikolai. Whoa, that did the trick. He hadn't really talked to Nikolai since he had gotten here. They had some words here and there, but nothing serious, which brings it back to here, on the plane; a perfect opportunity to have a talk with his brother. Half-brother.

"Don't be a sissy, Julian," he spoke softly aloud. He rose from his seat gracefully, making his way over to Nikolai. He slid into the seat next to him quietly. Nikolai didn't seem to notice, and continued tapping his fingers. The music he was listening to was loud enough to be heard around him, Sark almost smiled. Nikolai was never one to be polite. Suddenly Nikolai slid his headphones down to his neck, turning to look at Sark.

"If you wanted to listen, all you had to do was ask, Jul." Nikolai gave him a half-grin. "But I doubt that's why you're over here. So why don't you just spit it out now; I wouldn't want you to have a heart attack because you just couldn't find the words to tell me how much you love me." He covered his heart with his hands in a mock gesture of love. Sark's lips were pressed together tightly, his eyes narrowed.

"Really, Nikolai," Sark's lips curled back unpleasantly, "I had assumed you would be able to have an adult conversation, but I guess that was wishful thinking on my part." He stood to leave but, Simon caught his gaze, one look saying it all. Stay there and talk to your brother, you pansy ass. Sark sat back down with a sigh. He glanced at Nikolai, who had his headphones back on. He glanced at Sark, the slid them off again.

"Back so soon, little brother? I thought I wasn't 'adult' enough for you." Nikolai raised ad eyebrow. Sark shifted in his seat. This was harder then he thought.

"I wanted to say…thank you," he said, "for retrieving the manuscript. And I apologize if I seemed-"

"Obnoxious?" Nikolai supplied for him. Sark ignored him.

"-unpleasant when you arrived. I'm-"

"Finally realizing how amazing I am?"

"-glad you're here."

"Wow, an apology and a thank you from Julian Lazarey," Nikolai smirked, "what has the world come to?" Sark stood, intending to leave, but Nikolai's hand shot out to grab his arm. "Wait…you're right."

"Right about what?" Sark turned back to Nikolai.

"You were 'unpleasant'." Sark clenched his jaw, walked back over to his seat, and opened his laptop. Simon stood from his seat, and Sark noticed from the corner of his eye as Simon said something to Nikolai, who sighed and stood, making his way over to Sark. He sat down next to him.

"Sorry," he said, raising his hands in surrender, "it's a habit."

"And what would that be?" Sark asked quietly, not looking up from his screen.

"Insulting people, being rude," he said with a smirk, "you know; the usual."

"If you don't mind," Sark gestured to his laptop, "I'm working."

"Right," Nikolai said, "since when did you start liking paperwork, Jul?"

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Nikolai." Sark closed his laptop, turning to face him.

"True," Nikolai nodded his head, "but whose fault is that?"

"Our father's."

"I suppose," Nikolai said, "but not only his. You were with Irina and Simon; I was left with good 'ole daddy Lazarey." A dark look appeared in Nikolai's eyes, quickly vanishing, he smiled. "But that's old news."

"He really is a bastard," Sark glanced out the plane window into darkness; he looked back at Nikolai, "isn't he?"

"Yeah," Nikolai gave a small laugh, looking away, "yeah, he is." He glanced over at Sydney, still asleep. "I like her." He glanced back a Sark, serious, "Don't fuck it up, Jul, because it's the best thing that's ever happened to you, and I don't need to know everything about you to know that." He smiled; stood up, and went back to his seat. Sark didn't notice; staring at Sydney, Nikolai's voice ringing in his ears.

----------

Simon immediately took a cigarette out once he was off the plane; walking down the steps of the plane to be exact. Nikolai was behind him, headphones nowhere to be seen.

Sydney came down next, yawning and stretching her arms.

"What time is it?" She asked, jumping down the next step. She stopped next to Simon, stretching her arms over her head. She caught Nikolai staring at her stomach, his eyes traveling upward. Once they got to her face she winked; he smirked. She was actually growing very fond of Nikolai. While they were waiting for the plane to take off earlier, they had played cards.

"Eights?" Nikolai asked. Sydney looked through her cards, throwing two eights his way.

"Got any sixes?" She asked; staring back down at the cards she was holding in her hand.

"Nope." Nikolai said, shuffling through the cards in his hands. Sydney looked up, frowning.

"How is that possible…?" She trailed off, looking at Nikolai incredulously. "You're cheating!" He looked up, his expression shocked.

"Me?" He shook his head, smiling, "Why would I cheat playing go fish?" Sydney glared at him for a moment before setting her cards down. She stood, walking over to Simon. She sat down next to him.

"Does he always cheat?" She asked, nodding toward Nikolai. Simon looked up from the book he was reading. He looked at Nikolai. They both laughed. Simon nodded.

"That's Nikolai," he said, with a grin. Sydney gave Nikolai a look and put her headphones on, her eyes closing. She stayed like that for ten minutes or so before someone tapped her on her shoulder. She opened her eyes, startled to find a yellow daisy dangling in front of her face. She looked up and found Nikolai, smiling.

"Ready to go?" Sark's hand was on her lower back, making small circles. She nodded. They started walking towards the car, stopping when three black cars came speeding towards them. They stopped, a car door opened; Adrian Lazarey stepped out of the vehicle, a smug look gracing his features.

"Julian," he smiled, "I am so glad you could make it." He made a gesture and at least eight men emerged around the four of them. Sark tensed, as did Sydney.

"Need I ask what this is about?" Sark's voice was calm; collected.

"Well, my son," Lazarey said, "everyone has a price, and The Covenant gave me one I could not refuse."

"You sold me out," Sark voice got icy, "to The Covenant?"

"As I said before," Lazarey shrugged, "every man has his price. And it was not only me who sold you out…right, Nikolai?" Everyone's eyes flew to Nikolai, who held up his hands.

"What can I say? Everyone does have a price," he looked at Sark, "sorry, little brother."

"And to think, I was just starting to trust you," Sark smirked, "I guess I am a fool."

"I wouldn't say that," Nikolai said, walking towards Lazarey, "I have a knack for making people believe what I want them too. And obviously, you're no exception."

"I suppose not." Sark said coldly, "So what now?"

"Now we take Miss. Bristow here with us, and you as well," Lazarey said, "I do not know how they plan to do the fertilization process, though I have heard you two my have already accomplished it." He looked Sydney up and down, obviously liking what he saw. "I can understand why you like her so much, Julian, she is very beautiful."

"As much fun as this is," Simon spoke for the first time, "how 'bout we get this rolling, 'cause I for one have places to be."

"Ah, Simon," Lazarey said with obvious dislike, "I see you are the same as always, nothing but a pest."

"Aww, thanks, da," Simon said, "and I see you are the same as always; a cold-hearted bastard." Lazarey's lip curled back in a snarl.

"I am not your father," he said, then smirked, "if I remember correctly, your father abandoned you, as did your mother, how…pathetic." Simon took a drag from the cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He threw it to the ground, crushing it with his boot.

"Yeah," he breathed the smoke out, looking up, "yeah he did. And he was a bastard, too. So I guess me and Jul here have something in common, no? Both our fathers are fucking bastards, but at least mine had the courtesy to realize he was a fucking bastard and lemme go, you, however," he pointed at Lazarey, "you were too much of a fucking bastard and a fucking psychopath to even give that courtesy." It was silent for a moment, then Lazarey spoke.

"Nikolai, my son," he said coldly, "come, let us leave them here to be dealt with." Nikolai nodded, and the two of them turned to walk off.

"Nikolai," he turned, looking back at Sark, "You're just like him," Sark said, the disgust evident in his voice, "just like him." Nikolai watched Sark for a moment.

"Actually, little brother," he smirked, every emotion on his face gone, "I'm worse." Suddenly Nikolai stood in front of Lazarey. A shot went off. Nikolai fell. Hell broke loose, the men attacked, Simon and Sydney started fighting, but all Sark could do was stare at what had just occurred in front of him. He ran to Nikolai, pushing people out of the way.

He dropped to Nikolai's side, rolling him onto his back. Blood was pouring out of his chest. Sark glanced at Lazarey, who was staring at the gun in his hand. Sark didn't care. He only cared about the man now lying in his arms. His brother.

"No, my son! Nikolai!" Lazarey shouted; angry, "Why did you do that? You stupid fool—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Sark shouted. He looked down at Nikolai. "Nikolai," Sark spoke as he took off his jacket to put on the bullet wound. "Nikolai, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Nikolai spoke quietly; he coughed, blood spilling from the side of his mouth.

"Fuck, Nikolai," the wound was so close to his heart…there was no way…he would never…shut the fuck up. Sark pressed the jacket tighter, trying to stop the blood flow.

"I didn't…betray you," Nikolai spoke, coughing more.

"I know, Niki," Sark said, his breathing was heavy, "just…you have to…just…"

"No," Nikolai gave a small laugh, "I'm fine…"

"No, dammit, you are not fine," Sark said, cursing, "why the fuck did you let him do this to you, Niki? You're too good for this…you…" realization dawned on Sark, "you let him do this. You wanted him to shoot you?"

"Like I said, little brother," he said; his eyes opened slowly, searching for Sark; he caught his eyes, "I'm worse then he is, besides, he was going to shoot you, and I couldn't let that happen, right?" he laughed, then turned his head to look at Lazarey's retreating back. "Promise me you'll kill that bastard, Jul," The look he was giving Sark brought back so many memories…

"Father says you're special," a twelve-year-old Nikolai spoke to Julian, then eleven. They were outside; Lazarey had brought Nikolai here to Irina's for their monthly visit.

"I am," Julian replied proudly, "Rambaldi is my great-great and more great's grandfather."

"So? What's so special about being related to some old dead guy?" Nikolai picked up a rock that was lying on the ground. He toyed with it in his hand.

"It just is," Julian said, looking at his older brother. "You know, I am better than you." Nikolai threw the rock up at the house looming next to them, breaking a window.

"No you're not." But he didn't sound so sure of himself…

"I will, but Nikolai," Sark said, looking down at his brother. He was desperate to tell him this; he didn't know why, but he had to tell him. "I am not better than you. I-"

"Yes, you are," Nikolai spoke, coughing again, more blood ran down the side of his mouth, the jacket Sark was holding onto the wound was soaked. He grabbed Sark's shirt, pulling him down; face level. He spoke, almost angrily, "You are better than me, Julian, and don't you ever fucking forget it." He fell back down, his eyes closing.

"Nikolai, I never meant what I said, you're nothing like him. Nothing. Do you here me?" Fuck. No. No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was all because of-

Sark's head snapped up, his eyes searching for Lazarey. He spotted him walking quickly toward a nearby car. Sark pulled his gun out, clicking the safety off, he aimed, and shot, the bullet hitting perfectly. The car exploded, Lazarey fell back onto the ground. Sark walked to him, his face perfectly blank. He came to stand in front of his father; he knelt down, taking the gun Lazarey had and throwing it off to the side. He waited while Lazarey caught his bearings, then stood, kicking him in the stomach. Lazarey cried out.

"Julian…my son…" Sark kicked him again. Hard.

"Don't call me that," Sark spoke emotionlessly, "I'm not your son. Not anymore."

Another kick.

"You killed him," Sark shouted, "You killed my fucking brother!"

A shot. Lazarey cried out in agony as a bullet shattered his kneecap.

"That was for Simon." He shot his other kneecap, Lazarey cried out again.

"That was for Sydney," he shot Lazarey in the stomach.

"That was for Nikolai," he watched his father writhe on the ground in agony. He shot him in the heart. Lazarey stopped moving.

"That was for me," he spoke in a whisper, "you fucking bastard." He turned around, walking over to Nikolai. He didn't look back.

Not even once.

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End Part One