Never Broken

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Six:

Galway

Growling in frustration and annoyance, I paced from the front hall of Sark's house to the sitting room just beyond and back again. Twenty hours had passed since Sark and my mission to the Himalayas and our retrieval of the second part of the prophecy – and we had yet to find a moment to discuss what had happened.

Sark's house, while a fortress on the outside, had proved to be as comfortable and luxurious as I had expected it to be. Soothing tones and comfortable, if elegant looking, furniture was accented with the odd expensive painting or antique, yet the whole place still managed to seem cosy and relaxed. It was also practical. I had counted several escape routes already, and I hadn't even been trying.

Liam had met Sark with a message from the Covenant when we got off the chopper and Sark had immediately left. I don't know where he was headed, but he had invited me to stay at his house while I waited for him to do whatever the Covenant wanted him to do. Liam had accompanied me back, seemingly unconcerned by the summons, but I was worried. What if it had something to do with the prophecy? One of the Covenant agents could have recognised Sark back at the monastery.

So that was how I found myself pacing near the front door, waiting for Sark's return. Liam had long since stopped trying to get me to sit down or eat something and seemed to find my pacing rather amusing instead of annoying. It seemed Sark picked employees with impressive patience. I don't really have a logical reason for why I was so worried. The practical part of my brain was telling me that even if someone had recognised Sark, the Covenant wouldn't have known about it when they were sending the message. But the fact remained that I didn't trust the Covenant one little bit, and every minute Sark was off doing something that I had no clue about, the more chance there was of something going wrong.

I shot a dark glare at the front door, before spinning sharply and pacing back towards the sitting room. I thumped myself down on the couch, keeping the door within view. Sark was a damned good spy. He escaped from CIA custody on a regular basis and always seemed to be ten steps ahead of everyone else. Hell, he'd even given me the slip more times that I was truly comfortable in admitting. He could handle the Covenant!

When the door finally did open about an hour later, I surged to my feet and opened my mouth to demand where the hell Sark had been, before I saw the expression on his face. I snapped my mouth shut and just stood there, not really wanting to find out what had put such an expression of disgust and pain on his face. He glanced at me, obviously having seen me waiting for him, before he dropped his bag and turned to hang up his coat. He was once again dressed in his black suit and I saw the soul-deep weariness in his gaze before he turned his back on me.

Whatever the Covenant had asked him to do had worn away some of the carefully constructed barriers around Sark's emotions, revealing a man who was bleeding on the inside. Almost immediately I felt something in my heart break for him. I really did understand what he was going through – years of being betrayed and being asked to do things I didn't want to do have made sure of that.

"Want to talk about it?" I asked him softly.

Sark turned back towards me and gave me a sardonic smile, and I noticed some of the barriers were already back in place, if not quite as strong as usual. "No." he said shortly.

As he brushed past me, heading for the stairs, I caught sight of the small flecks of blood on his jacket, almost completely hidden by the dark colour. Had he been any further away, I might have missed them. I snaked my hand out quickly and grabbed his forearm just tight enough to make him stop. "I understand better than you think." I told him.

Violent rage flashed into those cold blue eyes the second I put my hand on his arm, and I could see the effort it took to restrain it. That rage was another thing I understood. Sometimes, when you were forced to do things you really didn't want to do, the only way you could deal with it was to hate the people who had made you do it. Or hate those who tried to understand. I stood there, my hand still on his arm and calmly stared down the rage that boiled behind those eyes. It was probably about as smart as holding onto a snake by its tail, but something in me just couldn't turn away from him.

"Do you?" Sark asked me, his voice soft and cold. Dangerous.

"Try me." I replied.

He searched my eyes for a long moment, although I'm not sure what he was looking for. Then he nodded slightly and I let his arm go. He led the way up the stairs towards what I assumed was somewhere we could talk. I was surprised when he led me directly to his bedroom. I hesitated for a brief second on the threshold, not sure if I was truly ready to enter Sark's private space, but I had started this, so the least I could do was finish it.

Sark shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it into a corner, before his tie followed it. I waited just inside the doorway and watched as Sark yanked off his shirt, spraying a button or two across the room in his haste and revealing a firmly muscled back. The objective part of my mind, the spy part that never seemed to stop working, noticed the jagged scars that curled across his rib cage ran across his shoulder blades, as well as how thin Sark looked with all his bones prominent and angular. The female part of my mind, however, just purred in appreciation at the attractive sight. I ignored them both.

Sark crumpled his shirt into a ball and sent it flying after the jacket and tie, before sighing. I saw the tension in his shoulders as he paused for a moment, still facing away from me. Seeming to gather his courage again, Sark glanced back to look at me, his eyes still haunted. "Give me a second." He said.

He grabbed a pair of sweat pants and headed to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The shower turned on a second later, so I turned my focus to Sark's bedroom. Just like the rest of the house, it was comfortable and luxurious, but it struck me as impersonal all the same. A laptop sat on the desk in the corner, with a large bed against the wall and a large window that led out onto a balcony, and a breathtaking view of the cliffs.

Then I looked closer. There were a few personal belongings, small and unobtrusive, decorated around the room; a photo, a yearbook and what looked like a set of letters. The painting that hung on the wall directly across from the bed was rougher than the others around the rest of the house, even to my untrained eye. I wandered closer to it and noticed the signature in the bottom corner. Anna Lazarey. I wondered if it had been painted by Sark's mother.

I heard the bathroom door open again, and turned to see Sark wandering out. A flash of something crossed his face when he noticed I had been looking at the painting, but it was gone before I could tell what it was. I caught sight of a broad chest covered in twisting scars before Sark dragged a t-shirt over his head. He ran his fingers absently through his damp hair, before turning to me. "Are you sure you want to know, Sydney?" he asked softly.

I nodded. "Yes." I answered.

Sark sank down onto the end of his bed and looked away from me, instead gazing out the window at the rough coastline beyond. "Simply put: it was an assassination." He said, his words soft. It was as if, if he talked soft enough, I still might not hear what he had to say. "I saw no reason why the man should die, but I am nothing more than the Covenant's lapdog."

The derision in the last words was something I could relate to. I was used to being treated like a pawn; a mindless soldier destined to only follow orders, not give them. "So you killed him." I said, just as softly, moving to sit next to Sark.

"Yes." Sark answered bluntly, turning to face me again. "But contrary to popular belief, I am not completely cold blooded. I do not kill without a good reason. And certainly not on a whim."

I reached out and put my hand on Sark's shoulder, trying to give him what little comfort I could. "Sometimes you need to do evil things to survive." I told him.

"What would you know of it?" Sark demanded harshly, shrugging my hand of his shoulder and glaring at me with angry blue eyes.

I calmly gazed back at him, before beginning to speak. "I survived two years as a double agent, didn't I?" I said. "During that time, I killed people who were trying to help me take down SD-6. And as soul-destroying as that is, if they hadn't died, I would have."

Sark lost some of the anger in his eyes as I spoke, seeming to realise that when he had told me that the two of us were more similar than I thought, he was more right than he knew. "I've been betrayed by almost everyone I've ever cared about." I said. "And I'm not telling you this for sympathy. I'm telling you that I know what it's like to do things for someone, only to discover that you've really been helping your enemies."

"But you're not an assassin, Sydney." Sark whispered.

I shrugged. "Maybe not. But I have walked into missions knowing people will die, and sometimes I'm not sure that's any different."

Sark looked at me for a moment, his eyes as vulnerable as I had ever seen them. Then he smiled, and the mask slid back into place. Only now, I could see beyond it to the man beneath – or at least as much of the man beneath as Sark had allowed me to see. "I have something for you." Sark said, changing the subject somewhat abruptly as he got up.

I smiled softly to myself. It seemed things were back to as normal as they got. "I managed to access part of the Covenant database and found some interesting information." Sark said over his shoulder, as he retrieved a CD from his jacket pocket. "It has to do with Julia Thorne."

That caught my attention. I felt my face harden at the mention of my Covenant alias. A feeling of dread also wound its way through my gut. If Sark knew about my alias, then there was a distinct possibility that he knew, or would soon find out, just who killed his father.

"Julia Thorne?" I echoed cautiously.

"The alias you went by while you worked for the Covenant during your missing two years." Sark said, typing a few commands into his laptop. He shot me a look over his shoulder. "I thought you would have known about this?"

"I know a little." I answered truthfully. "Unfortunately, what I said about my missing two years still holds true. I don't remember."

Sark shrugged. "I've read over the list of the missions you went on for the Covenant." He said and turned back to the computer screen. "It's probably better this way. Although your missions did seem to be far less successful than I've come to expect from you."

The last was said with a smirk and I knew Sark knew that I had been working as a double agent. But the realisation was dulled by the terror that laced through me at his earlier words. I've read over the list of missions you went on for the Covenant. Did that mean Sark knew about the murder of his father? And just who was responsible?

Seeming to understand the direction my thoughts had taken, Sark turned and fixed me with a piercing look. "Yes, Sydney. I know you are responsible for my father's death. I don't care. He deserved to die, whatever the reason."

Shocked, I blinked at Sark for a long moment, unsure of what to say to his sudden declaration. He solved the problem, by continuing to talk, although the sardonic expression on his face told me he had seen my surprise. "I think we can use your alias to take down the Covenant. Some of your old contacts will be useful and the Covenant will just assume you're trying to figure out what happened to you."

I blinked again, trying to follow the conversation. "You have a plan?" I asked.

"Yes." Sark answered, turning the screen of the laptop so I could see it.

On the screen was a photo of me, complete with blond hair. I was walking down a crowded street talking on a cell. I studied my face, trying to gain some clue as to what I was doing or feeling as Sark continued to talk. "The Covenant is planning to steal something called the Watchglass, a reconstructed Rambaldi artefact." He explained. "Several senior members will be overseeing its retrieval, as it seems to be a key part of Rambaldi's plan. The Covenant has brought in a team of freelancers to steal it, which you can infiltrate."

"Wait a minute." I said, interruption Sark's explanation and plan. "What do you mean reconstructed?"

"My information leads to think that the artefact was dismantled sometime in the 18th century and the parts hidden. Only recently, the parts have been found and put back together again." Sark answered. "I don't, however, know what it does."

I shook my head slightly, not really needing to know the purpose of the Watchglass. The fact that the Covenant found it important was enough for me. "So I infiltrate this group and steal it?"

"Not exactly." Sark answered. "I need you to act as more of a distraction and this will give you an opportunity to do that."

"A distraction for what?" I asked. "And don't you think this is a bit risky?"

A small smirk played at the corner of Sark's mouth. "By now the Covenant knows that you no longer work for the CIA. As of yet, they have no idea of the connection between us and I'd like to keep it that way. The freelance group hired for the theft is headed by an old contact of Julia's." he told me. "By laying down the proper trail, we can convince the Covenant that you've gone rogue to find out what happened during your missing two years."

I nodded. That made sense. If I stayed off the radar too long, people would start to wonder what I was up to. "You still haven't told me why you a distraction."

"So I can find out who the head of the Covenant is." Sark answered simply.

I glanced sharply at him. "You mean you don't know?!"

The sardonic look crossed Sark's face again. "They don't trust me yet." He said. "I don't really know anyone beyond my handler."

At my questioning look, he added, "A man called Valentin San'ko. Incidentally, I killed his brother. He certainly wouldn't be disappointed if I suddenly died."

"I don't imagine he's the only one." I replied. "So how is my sudden appearance going to help you find out who's head of the Covenant?"

Sark's smirk grew bigger. "If they know where you are, they'll be more confident to come out of hiding."

"And pick up the Watchglass." I finished.

"Exactly." Sark smirked.

It was a good plan, I'd give him that. "So when do I leave?" I asked.

"In a day or two." Sark answered, almost absently. "Sydney, there's something I need to tell you." He added with a sigh. "Something I wasn't going to, but surprisingly enough I'm beginning to trust you."

The bittersweet smile on his face was something new. "You trust me?" I asked, surprised.

"It's not like me, I know." Sark said. "You've always been honest with me, Sydney. And in turn, I've always been honest with you. That leads to a certain kind of trust."

A moment of understanding passed between us. I knew without a doubt that while Sark was beginning to trust me, he would still kill me if I betrayed him in any way. Although, I was beginning to suspect it wouldn't be easy for him. Nor would it be easy for me to shoot him if he ever betrayed me, but I'd still do it. "So what did you want to tell me?" I asked.

"Back at the monastery, you said you were having…memories of being Isabella Rambaldi." Sark began and I nodded. "Well, the same thing appears to be happening to me. I'm having memories of being Isabella's bodyguard, Edward de L'Archier."

I was silent for a moment, before I gave Sark a wry smile. "At least I'm not going crazy, right?"

"Together we'll finish this, Sydney." Sark assured me. "I have no inclination to be anyone's pawn, regardless of whether it's Milo Rambaldi or the Covenant. And I know you don't either. We'll stop them."

"Or die trying?" I joked weakly.

Sark just flashed me an arrogant smirk. "Oh, it would take more than the Covenant to kill us, Sydney."

I had to smile back. He had a point. I'd survived worse than this. "True." I agreed.

At that moment, there was a soft knock at the door and Liam entered. "Sorry to interrupt," he said in his lilting accent. "But the Covenant just sent word. They request a meeting."

Sark nodded and sighed softly. "Send word that I'm on my way." He replied.

Liam nodded and slipped back out again. Some of the exhaustion and tension from before seemed to resettle itself on Sark's shoulders. He turned those piercing blue eyes in my direction. "All the information you need is in the file. I assume I can leave the rest up to you? I'm not sure when I'll be back."

I nodded. "I can handle it."

"Good." He said. "I'll contact you when I have the information."

Nodding again, I got to my feet and headed to the door. "Good luck." I said with a glance over my shoulder, before walking out.

"Thank you." I heard him whisper in reply.

Monte Carlo

Five days later, I found myself in Monaco, ready to put our plan into action. I hadn't heard from Sark yet, but I knew Liam would relay the details to him when he could. I surveyed the scene in front of me with a watchful eye and took a sip of champagne. I felt my lips curving into a smirk very reminiscent of Sark's at the appreciative glances of the men next to me. I was dressed to kill, after all.

I was dressed in a stunning black dress with a halter neck that fell to the floor. Diamonds glittered at my wrist and ears, and my hair was tied up in a sleek knot at the nape of my neck – even if it just so happened to be dyed blonde at the moment. It seemed fitting as I was standing in the Casino Monte Carlo, which just so happened to be the place the freelance team was meeting tonight.

But first things first. Julia Thorne had been gone for three months and my contact might need a little bit of extra persuasion to trust me again. So I needed something to bargain with. It just so happened that the reason the team was meeting in the Monte Carlo Casino was to steal a billion dollar diamond necklace that was being stored in the vault…which wasn't going to be as hard as it sounds. Most of the hard work would be done by someone else for once.

It turns out that one of the team members had a weakness for gambling and owed a certain criminal organisation a lot of money. The organisation had been willing to trade the necklace as payment of the debt. All I had to do was make sure the man didn't run off with the necklace, thereby forcing my contact to owe me a favour. Sark's plan was a good one, if not quite my style.

I grinned slightly when I spotted the time. It was time to go. I put my champagne down and headed down a nearby flight of stairs to the floor below. All around me the loud commotion of the casino floor hummed; cries of excitement and despair being uttered in a mix of languages. I slipped effortlessly through the crowd, having done this many times before. I slipped unnoticed through a doorway on the lower floor, heading down a corridor, through a door and then down another flight of stairs. This time they were concrete and led to the floor the vault was on. As I glided down the stairs, I pulled off the cunningly detachable skirt of the dress to reveal the black pants I wore underneath. After retrieving my gun from my purse and pulling on a pair of black leather gloves, I dumped that too. Everything I needed was in the small pouch at my hip.

Once I reached the bottom of the stair, I crept towards the shadows beside the locked door they had led to and waited. This was the only way out from the vault, since the team wouldn't be able to get back out the way they came in. I didn't have to wait long, as about a minute later the door opened a crack and a brown-haired man dressed in all black slipped out. He carried a small case and I knew this was the man I had been waiting for. He looked exactly like his photo.

"Going somewhere, Martin?" I asked, as I pressed my gun to the back of his neck.

The man froze. "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"That's not important." I replied. "Where's the necklace?"

Martin said nothing, but I hadn't expected him to. Just like I wasn't surprised when he suddenly spun away from my gun and drew one of his own. I shot him before he could fire, knowing if given the opportunity, the man would have no problem killing me. I kicked the gun out of his hand, just to make sure, before I knelt and grabbed the case from where it had fallen. I stood again and opened it, smiling when I saw the necklace inside. It was beautiful. I removed it from its case and tossed the case aside.

At that moment, I heard the door behind me open before a muttered French curse sounded behind me. The sound of a gun being cocked echoed behind me, seconds before I felt the jab of a gun barrel in the middle of my back. "Drop your weapon." A French accented voice commanded, as I suppressed a shiver of fear.

The pressure of the gun barrel lessened as I dropped my gun and the man behind me circled around so he could see my face. When he did, there was another muttered curse, although this one was a lot darker than the first. "Julia? What in God's name are you doing here?"

"Hello, Jacques." I greeted the man in front of me; my contact. I smirked as I held up the necklace. "Missing something?"

To Be Continued…

Author's Note: Sorry this chapter was a bit short (and ended in a bit of a cliff hanger!), but I thought it would be better to wait for the next chapter to reveal Sark and Sydney's diabolical plan in action!

Cheeky.