Never Broken

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Ten:

Beijing

The gardens of the Summer Palace were magical. I felt an air of peace and serenity as soon as I entered and the gardens themselves were spectacularly beautiful. But even as Sark and I strolled through the gardens to meet Irina, I felt the feeling of dread that had begun in the Gobi Desert grow. Sark and I were once again dressed in our personas; the hardened spies we showed the world. Sark wore his black suit and his face was hard, his eyes like ice. I wore black as well; jeans, my heeled boots and leather jacket. My makeup was as it had been when I had proposed the partnership deal to Sark – oh, how long ago that felt!

Putting on my armour again this morning had been both comforting and painful. I had felt such wonderful freedom with Sark, a freedom I couldn't feel with the rest of the world watching. We approached the lake where Irina was waiting and I moved away slightly – just close enough to hear, but so Irina couldn't see me just yet. Just before I slipped away, Sark reached out and squeezed my hand slightly. The touch was brief, but enough to know that I just had to say the word and Sark and I would disappear. I flashed him a smile, but continued on. We were doing this.

Sark approached Irina, who was patiently sitting on the bench gazing out over the lake. Sark sat down beside her, but didn't look at her and she made no move to acknowledge him. To an observer, they were just two strangers sharing a bench. I knew it was a careful illusion, but I wasn't sure if it was meant to fool anyone watching or each other.

"Irina." Sark greeted unemotionally, his gaze drifting over the lake.

"I wasn't sure you'd come." Irina said, her voice lilting and exotic with its faint Russian accent.

Sark risked a glance at her; his eyes glittered like ice, just like they always had on those missions when we were enemies and rivals. "I considered it might be important. You wouldn't have contacted me otherwise."

"I did what I thought was best." Irina replied, anger colouring her tone a little.

It sounded like an argument they had had before. "I didn't come here to argue, Irina." Sark said coldly.

Irina chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in the sound. "I think I taught you too well, Julian." She said. "Is it so easy to dismiss what I am to you?"

"The way things turned out was your choice, Irina."

I saw the tension in Sark's shoulders and realised that Irina had let him be captured by the CIA and rot in prison for two years, just like she had let the Covenant use him. Once again, I felt a surge of anger towards the woman who was my mother for manipulating everyone around her like she did.

When Sark remained silent, Irina finally came out with the reason she had arranged this meeting. "Sloane injected Sydney with a Rambaldi formula designed to re-write her genetic code."

I sucked in a sharp breath at her words. I felt like someone had just punched me in the gut. Fear gripped me for a second, before I pushed it down again. I was going to kill that cold-blooded bastard! On the bench, Sark appeared to be having a similar reaction, but his was far more controlled than mine had been. "To what end?" Sark asked calmly.

"Rambaldi believed that Sydney could be controlled. Prevented from destroying his greatest work. The formula was the way he was going to stop her."

"Was going to stop her?"

"To completely control her, Sloane would need to inject her with three vials of formula. He succeeded once, but the second vial was destroyed." Irina continued to explain. "He could possibly synthesise more, but that would take time he doesn't have."

Sark considered her words for a long moment, as did I. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked finally.

"Because the formula Sloane already injected Sydney with is re-writing her genetic code as we speak. He needs three vials to finish the process; he only needed one to start it."

"So you're telling me this to protect Sydney."

"She is my daughter." Irina replied. "Protecting her is my highest priority." Suddenly she turned to face Sark, abandoning all pretence that they were strangers. "I want you to let her go back to the CIA, Julian. I don't care what deal you made with her – the CIA are her friends and family. And right now, they're the only ones that can save her."

"Shouldn't that be my decision, Mom?" I asked as I walked up to the bench.

Sark smirked at me as Irina carefully hid her surprise. She had believed Sark had come alone and wasn't prepared to deal with me. "Sydney…" she began, but I cut her off.

"I don't want to hear it, Mom." I said. "And when I quit the CIA, I meant it. I'm not going back."

"You have no choice!" Irina snapped, as angry as I'd ever seen her. "The CIA are the only ones that can help you! I don't have the resources and the only other person with enough knowledge about Rambaldi is Sloane!"

"There's always a choice." I said softly.

Irina's eyes glittered with anger. "You don't know what the formula is capable of doing…"

"I think I do!" I snapped back. "You're not the one living with this! And forgive me if I'm not eager to go running back to people who find it so easy to betray me!"

Irina looked surprised for a second time, but it was only a second before the smirk slid across her face. "So, you found out about the second half of the prophecy." She turned to glance between Sark and me. "That's why you're suddenly working together."

"And I thought it was because we're the best." Sark said.

"We are." I smirked at him. Then I turned to Irina. "Don't make the mistake of thinking I actually believe in Rambaldi."

Irina arched an eyebrow. "Then why are you trying so hard to destroy him?"

"I'm trying to destroy those who are trying to destroy me." I corrected. "Destroying Rambaldi's works is just a way I can do that."

Behind Irina, I saw Sark smirking. He knew the truth – he knew about Isabella's diary, about the memories, about Sloane. Irina regarded me for a long moment. "I see a lot of myself in you, Sydney." She said softly. "But I also see a lot of Jack."

Just like that, I knew the meeting was over. Irina had fulfilled whatever urge or sense of duty that had compelled her to warn us. As Sark and I turned to leave, she spoke again. "Are you going back to the CIA?"

I turned and gave her a mysterious half-smile; the same smile she had given me so many times while in CIA custody. The one that said: Maybe. But I'm never going to tell you.

I closed my eyes and sank down into the passenger seat as Sark headed for the airport. I still felt a bit overwhelmed by everything Irina had told us – and the fear was back. "We'll find a way to…" Sark broke of his soft reassurance to glance sharply in the rear-view mirror.

I straightened immediately. "We're being followed." Sark said, before cursing softly. "Hang on."

The car accelerated as Sark began weaving in and out of the traffic. He darted through the cars around us expertly, keeping an eye on our pursuers through the rear-view mirror all the while. "The Covenant?" I asked him softly.

"I believe so." Sark replied. "I don't think it's the CIA."

I nodded, watching the cars behind us through the side mirror, until I spotted the silver sedan that was following us. There wasn't much I could do, so I kept me eye on the sedan and tried to work out who was in the car. I think it was only two men. But, just in case, I slipped my gun into my lap.

"Do you think they were watching Irina?" I asked a little while later.

"I would have been." Sark replied, tension in his tone, but otherwise appearing as calm as ever.

The car screeched around a corner just in time for us to see a truck pull out in front of us, blocking the narrow street. Judging by the man dressed in black who had been driving, this wasn't an accident. Sark slammed on the breaks and turned the car, pushing me down in my seat at the same second the man opened fire with an automatic rifle.

The sedan that had been following us, screeched to a halt behind us, preventing our escape that way. Sark slammed the car into reverse anyway, ramming the car behind us into the wall, even as bullets raked the bonnet. Accelerating forwards again, Sark drove straight at the gunman, forcing him to dive out of the way, before swinging sharply to the right and heading through the narrow entrance to the parking garage beside us.

"Are you alright?" Sark asked me with a quick, concerned glance in my direction.

"I'm fine." I replied with a quick reassuring smile.

We raced upwards, searching for another way out. Sark squealed to a halt on the roof when we ran out of road. I flung open my door and staggered out, knowing we had to abandon the car. Sark was right behind me. I glanced around hurriedly, panic coiling in my gut and they tyre squeals coming from the floor below told me our pursuers were coming.

Spotting a fire escape on the next building over, I glanced at Sark. "Come on!" I said.

I sprinted to the edge of the roof, grateful the buildings were so close together. Running was a little awkward and I cursed myself on not picking more appropriate footwear, but I had run in heels enough times that it wasn't really a problem. As soon as I reached the edge, I leapt, flinging myself towards the fire escape on the other building and about a floor below us. I landed with a heavy crash and rolled forwards, but still felt the painful jolt to my knees and ankles.

Scrambling to me feet, I immediately kicked open the door in front of me as Sark landed behind me. Bullets whizzed past us and pinged off the metal as Sark and I raced inside, slamming the door shut behind us to stop our pursuers getting a clear shot. The building seemed to be an abandoned office building and for a second, I was grateful we had ended up on the outskirts of the city.

"We need to find a way out of here." I said, even as Sark and I raced towards the stairwell.

Sark didn't reply, so I glanced at him. He nodded once, his cell in his hand and already dialling. He spoke curtly into the phone, in French, briefly talking to the person on the other end, before turning back to me. "I warned our pilot." He said. "There's an apartment we can use if we can get to the other side of the city."

I nodded, slowing to a walk as we hit the ground floor. My heart was pounding and my breath came in pants, both from the exertion and the adrenaline. My gun was in my hand before I really thought about it, and with a glance at Sark, I noticed his was too. It was possible one or more of our pursuers were inside the building by now, but I doubted it.

"Any ideas how to get to the other side of the city?" I asked, warily scanning the offices around us as we continued on.

"Well, we could try the train." Sark said mildly.

I shot him a look that was half-way between amusement and annoyance. "The train, huh?"

Sark smirked. "I believe there's a station a few blocks from here."

By now we had reached one the building's side doors, which was unfortunately locked. I sighed when I saw the rusty lock and glanced at Sark. "Did you bring any lock picks? Because…"

Sark simply reached out and yanked the lock, which came away in his hand. "…we don't need them." I finished lamely.

Sark smirked smugly at me, before quietly opening the door a crack. I almost laughed when I saw what was on the other side. Our pursuers had parked there now battered-looking sedan right in front of the building…and were heading around the other side! And even better, the dolts had left the keys in the ignition! "Idiots!" I muttered and Sark grinned at me.

Together, we crept out cautiously, just in case there were more goons out there and headed for the sedan. At the sound of the engine and doors slamming, the goons raced outside with surprised shouts. But it was too late – Sark and I were already racing away.

I laughed in delight at our daring escape. "Damn it, we are good!" I grinned.

"Was there ever any doubt?" Sark replied.

I opened my mouth to reply, when a curious feeling came over me – just like it had when Sloane had tried to inject me with the formula a second time. Intense pain followed and I bit back a scream. My gun clattered to the floor from my now loose grip. Sark glanced over at me. "Syd? Syd!"

I bit back another scream as the pain got worse. "Hang on!" Sark told me. "Oh, please love. Just hold on!"

I tried my best to do as he asked, really I did, but I felt my limbs begin to spasm uncontrollably, before everything faded to black.

Los Angeles

"Guess this is it, then." Sark said, knowing this was only the quiet before the storm.

"Yeah." I agreed in the same flat tone. "Guess it is."

In the silence that followed, I spared a glance at him. His clothes were dirty and torn just like mine. He wore only his black pants and white shirt now, the holster around his shoulders clearly visible. His blond hair was as tousled as ever, but his piercing blue eyes held the same anguish I felt.

"Funny." He said. "I always knew you'd be with me when I died, Bristow. I just always thought you would be the one pulling the trigger."

I tried to smile softly, but I think it came out more of a grimace. "Life doesn't always give you what you want."

The words echoed between us, as we were both facing the truth of them. We were going to die. We knew that. It was finally inevitable. This time we couldn't escape. We didn't want to die, not now, not after everything. But, like I said, life doesn't always give you what you want.

"To our future." Sark toasted with a shot of vodka. "What's left of it, anyway."

"No." I said, raising my own shot glass. "To our pasts. Let them remember us as we were. Unstoppable."

Sark gave a faint smile. "I'll drink to that."

I drank the contents of the glass in one swallow, the vodka burning a path down my throat as it followed all the others. It wasn't enough to dull the realisation, but it was enough to give me courage to face my death, head held high. I would be strong til the end. They would never break me.

It was then that we heard pounding on the stairs outside the building. They were coming. I put down my shot glass and stared at Sark, trying to stop the tears gathering in my eyes. He gathered me in his arms and I could see the same pain and sadness in his eyes. Cupping my face in his hands, he gave me a bittersweet kiss full of passion and desperation. We both new this would be our last.

Tears were slipping down my face as we broke apart. "I love you." I whispered brokenly. "Always…"

"…and forever." Sark finished. "I love you too."

He wiped my tears away as a tear slipped down his face as well. The sound of the footsteps getting louder broke our attention and I drew my gun. Except, somehow, it wasn't a gun anymore, but a sword. Instead of heavy and unwieldy, like I had expected, the sword fit into my palm like it was made for it. It was in that same moment, that I realised the torn remains of a skirt were twisting around my legs and I wore a corset. Glancing at Sark, I noticed he held a sword too, instead of a gun.

"If I'm going to die today," I said, completely unable to control the words that seemed to flow from my mouth. "Then I'm going to take as many of them with me as I can."

The sensation was rather like the dream memories of Isabella, but I knew this was different. This wasn't just a memory, but a twisted dream. Somehow Sark and I had taken Isabella and Edward's place, and even more strangely, we were facing men with guns. I somehow just knew that.

"Let them see us for who we really are." Sark agreed. "Let them fear us."

I pulled Sark forward for a hard, brief kiss before I pulled back and wiped my face. I straightened my shoulders. It was time. "See you in hell, love." I said.

"Not if I see you first." Sark replied.

I moved off then, going towards the door and taking cover where I could. I knew Sark was doing the same on the opposite side and resisted looking at him. I knew if I did I was likely to burst into tears at the injustice of it all. We had only just found each other and now we would loose each other again. Just like before. Just like Isabella and Edward.

I can't explain how I knew, but something told me that Isabella and Edward had been torn from each other as brutally as Sark and I were about to be. It was one of the few things that made sense in this twisted world, were swords were guns and everything felt strange.

I glanced back behind me and look in the sight of our last sanctuary. The two shot glasses still sat next to the almost empty vodka bottle on top of an upturned old crate. The rickety crate stood in front of a sagging brown couch where Sark and I had made love for the last time in the early hours of this morning. The rest of the large room was empty apart from the narrow pillars that kept up the floor above us. Pillars Sark and I now knelt behind, our swords held ready.

And the suddenly, the familiar grip of a gun was in my hand again. I groaned, almost as if I were in pain, and I shook my head. What was going on?

By the time the door burst open, I was feeling more in control. I aimed carefully and fired, shooting three of the men in the head before they could react. Every shot I fired, I fired to kill. If I was going down, then they were coming with me.

The gunfight was short and violent. An automatic pistol was no match for semi-automatic rifles, no matter what the movies say. Pain tore at my arm, throwing off my aim. By the time the bullets tore into my leg and stomach, I had almost run out of ammo anyway. I lay there on the floor, feeling the blood gathering in a hot, sticky pool beneath me. My whole body felt as if it were on fire.

Sloane walked towards me, gun in hand. He stopped above me and pointed the gun at me head. "You could have been so much." He told me.

"I am more than you could ever be." I snapped back, my voice harsh with pain.

Then I used the last of my strength to raise my own gun and shoot him through the head with my last bullet. He died with a shocked look on his face. I smirked slightly, but broke off into a coughing fit. The wet sound told me what I already knew – one of my lungs was punctured. I felt a little blood trickle out the side of my mouth and knew I was dying, even as the pain began to fade.

I turned my face, wanting to see Sark one last time. Gunfire echoed outside and I realised someone had come to rescue us. But it was too late. Sark lay a little way away, bleeding from two bullet wounds to his chest. His shirt was soaked with his blood and I couldn't help the tears. Was he already dead..?

I cried out in joy as he turned his head towards me. He wasn't dead yet! I smiled at him, not caring about the pain. Something warm touched my hand and I looked down before I realised it was his hand. I squeezed it, or tried, but my strength was leaving me. My vision faded as I struggled to keep my eyes open. I had to stay conscious. I had to stay with Sark.

"I love you." Sark whispered hoarsely.

"I love you too." I whispered back.

I saw Sark bite back a groan as his eyes closed and I knew he was almost gone. But then so was I. I let my own eyes flicker shut and as the darkness swallowed me up. I felt Sark's hand in mine and knew that no one would ever be able to separate us again.

Suddenly words drifted to me in that floating darkness. It was Isabella. I was sure of it. "You must be strong, Sydney. Please hold on. You must stop him or he will kill you both."

I gasped and snapped awake, my heart pounding from the surreal dream. I lay there panting for a second, my fuzzy brain trying to sort through the sensations and sounds all around me. I appeared to be lying down in a somewhat comfortable bed, although there was a curious pain in my arm and whatever I was wearing felt scratchy and strange.

As the sounds got louder, I recognised a rhythmic beeping and the sound of cars driving by in the distance. A short burst of a police siren sounded and the faded away. Where was I? My vision was still a little blurry, so I tried to wait as patiently as I could until it cleared. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Glancing about as soon as I could focus, I spotted the electronic monitor beside me even as I recognised the figure in the chair sitting beside my bed. Why the fuck was I in a hospital? And where was Sark?

"Sydney, you're awake." My father said as he straightened in his chair, sounding relieved.

"Where am I?" I demanded, my voice harsh and my throat sore.

"The Stafford Naval Hospital." My father answered. There was pain in his brown eyes, just as I was sure there was anger in mine. He got out of his chair a little stiffly, and reached out to grab a cup. He held it to my lips. "Drink some water, it'll help. You're safe for the moment."

"For the moment?" I asked, after I had drunk some water. It had helped a little, but not much.

My father paused for a moment, as if trying to find the right words…or how much I should know. "Just tell me!" I growled.

"A deal was made on your behalf." My father explained. "I don't know how much you can remember, but you had a seizure and fell unconscious. You were brought back to the CIA for treatment. The doctors have been trying for the last two weeks to reverse the changes Rambaldi's formula has made."

I zoned out a little as my father's words echoed around in my head. You were brought back to the CIA… There was only one man who could have done that, and he wouldn't have unless there was no other choice. "Where is he?" I demanded, interrupting whatever my father had been trying to explain.

"Who?" My father asked. "Vaughn?"

"Julian."

My father gave me a confused look. "Sark." I amended.

As his name, my father's expression immediately darkened. I didn't think this was a good sign. "Sark is in NSC custody." My father answered finally.

"NSC custody?" I echoed. "Why does the NSC have him?"

"Because he freely gave himself into their custody." Dad replied, his voice equal parts sceptical and admiring.

Suddenly it all made sense. I felt tears gather in my eyes at the price Sark had paid for me. Irina had been right when she had told us only the CIA could reverse the effects of Rambaldi's formula. And Sark had turned himself in, giving up his hard won freedom, so they would – it was the only reason I could think of that I wasn't behind bars.

"And his terms?" I asked.

Again, my father paused before answering. I don't think he liked talking about it. "Sark agreed to tell us anything we wanted to know in exchange for treating you and allowing you to freely leave the country. His only exception was he wouldn't discuss you."

I felt a band constrict around my heart at his words. I knew it was silly, but somehow I felt as if a white knight had finally charged in to rescue me. He might not carry a sword and prefer Armani to armour, but no one had ever quite rescued me like Sark. I vowed in that moment to do everything in my power to rescue him in return. I knew just how much Sark hated to be caged.

"I want to see him." I said.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Sydney. The doctors weren't able to reverse all the changes and you're still weak…"

"I want to see him!" I growled.

By the anguish reflected in my father's eyes, I knew he'd do as I wanted. He still felt guilty for keeping the prophecy from me, I knew that, even though he would do it again if he had to. I knew I might regret using my father's feelings of guilt like this, but I just wanted Sark out. I'd worry about the rest later.

My father sighed. "I'll see what I can do." He said. "Try to get some sleep."

I gave my father a slight smile as I watched him leave, grateful for his help even though I was still angry at him for keeping the truth from me, before settling back in my bed. I could see the guards posted outside the door and knew it would be stupid and futile to try anything rash. All I could do was plan what the hell I was going to do to get Sark out.

Loud, angry voices woke me from my doze a little while later. "Agent Vaughn, you can't go in there!" a nurse was hissing angrily. "She's sleeping!"

I could quite hear Vaughn's reply, but I could tell he was angry by his tone. He barged into my room, just as I was easing myself up into a sitting position. I raised an eyebrow at the intrusion and kept my expression as neutral as I could. His angry gaze drilled into mine, but he waited until the door had closed behind him before he spoke.

"How could you go to him, Sydney!" he demanded. "Sark of all people! He's a wanted terrorist, for God's sake!"

I kept my expression cool as I returned his gaze. "I went to Sark because he was in a position to help me take down the Covenant."

"So it was just a business deal?" Some of the anger left Vaughn's eyes.

"In the beginning, yes." I replied.

"In the beginning?!" Vaughn snapped. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

I shot Vaughn a dark glance, my anger growing. "That's for me to know!" I snapped.

"Sydney…" he growled.

"What? You have no claim over me, Vaughn. What I do is my business alone!"

"Even when you betray everything we're fighting for?" Vaughn asked, his eyes still angry, but his tone softer.

I sat back on the pillows, anger battling with shock at his words. How could Vaughn ask me that? "If you think I could ever do that, then maybe you never knew me at all, Vaughn." I said quietly.

Vaughn seemed to realise what he had said, but I didn't let him say whatever he had been going to say. "Besides, what has the CIA ever done for me except betray me?" I snapped.

Wincing, Vaughn realised that I knew what had happened on that long ago day on the roof top. Or at least, it felt such a long day ago. In reality, it had only been 5 short weeks since my world had completely changed – two of which I had spent unconscious. I'm not sure if that made me feel better or worse.

"Syd…" Vaughn began, but I cut him off again.

"I'm going to do everything I can to destroy the Covenant. You can either help me or stay out of my way."

Vaughn's answering look was sharp. "For God's sake, Syd! You're wanted by the FBI and the CIA! You are in no position to make demands!"

I shot him a cold glance, wondering what right he had to be so angry…and why I had ever found him so attractive. Surely he hadn't been this judgemental when we'd been together? If there was one thing I knew about this life, it was that there was more to it that 'good vs. bad' or 'black vs. white'.

"I'm not making demands, Vaughn." I said coldly. "I'm telling you what I intend to do."

We were interrupted from arguing further by the same irritated nurse who I think had argued with Vaughn earlier. "Agent Vaughn, I'll have to ask you to leave." She said. "Miss Bristow needs her rest."

Gratefully, if a little cowardly, I gave the nurse a small smile and she seemed to nod slightly in return. I don't know how much she knew about me, or how much the CIA had told her, but I was grateful for her help in kicking Vaughn out. I'm not sure I could stand to be in the same room with him for much longer without strangling him.

Vaughn left in as close to a huff as I had ever seen him. The nurse made a show of checking the monitors I was hooked up to for a moment, before turning to me and giving me a careful eye. "There's someone else who wants to see you." She said.

"Do you know who?" I asked, wondering if I was going to have to face another confrontation right now.

"He says his name is Marshall." The nurse replied.

I couldn't seem to stop the smile that slide over my face at the news. Marshall was here? Oh, how I could use the enthusiasm and gentle loyalty of the CIA's best tech right now! At least, I hoped he was still my friend. Had he been hurt by my leaving too?

Nodding to the nurse, I smiled again. "I'd like to see him if I could." I said.

"Only for a few minutes." The nurse replied, bustling out of the room again.

A second later a familiar head poked around the door. Marshall hadn't changed a bit – his hair was still tousled, his clothes still rumpled and a look of trepidation mixed with joy on his face. "Syd?" he asked.

"Come in, Marshall." I said warmly.

Marshall smiled a little shyly, before coming into the room and sitting somewhat nervously in the chair beside my bed. "I, uh…didn't tell anyone I was coming here, you know, to talk to you. Just in case you wondered. I didn't think they'd let me come if they knew…"

I cut Marshall's babbling off with a smile. "I'm glad you came."

Marshall gave me a delighted smile – it lit up his whole face. "Why wouldn't I? You're my friend, Syd."

"Even if I'm working with a wanted terrorist?" I asked, not sure why or if I wanted to know the answer.

"Well, I kinda think you working with Mr. Sark is cool…" Marshall said with a conspiratorial grin.

Cool? I loved Marshall, as the tech really was a true friend, but cool? I never expected Sark and my deal would ever be called cool.

"…and, you know, romantic." Marshall finished a little shyly.

"Romantic?" I echoed, surprised for the second time in as many seconds.

Marshall nodded. "Yeah." He said. "I mean, he always used to give you those looks back when we were, you know…" he paused to look from side to side, "…working at SD-6." He finished in a whisper.

"It's one of the reasons I never believed them when they said he was evil…" he added absently. "That and because he, well, saved my life."

I blinked for a second, never having known that Sark had once saved Marshall's life. I'd heard rumours back at SD-6, but dismissed them as just, well, rumours. I had always known there was more to Marshall that met the eye, but the depth of his loyalty surprised even me. It was humbling. As for the way Sark had looked at me…well, considering what I knew now, I could imagine it, but I hadn't had a clue back then.

"I brought you a present!" Marshall said excitedly, before giving another furtive glance around the room. "It's not much, but I hope it helps."

Surreptitiously, Marshall handed me a disc. I wanted to look at it or ask Marshall what it was, but something in his expression stopped me. He must have seen my puzzlement, because he leaned forward and gave me a whispered explanation. "To get Sark out."

I blinked in surprise and overwhelming gratitude. "The CIA doesn't deserve you." I told him.

He blushed beet red. "If you're ever in trouble, Marshall, please call me. Find me." I continued. "It doesn't matter who with or why. I'll be there."

"Thank you." Marshall replied softly.

We talked for a few more minutes about more mundane things and I still had a smile on my face when he left. I had yet to get out of here or look at the contents of the disc, but suddenly, I felt as if everything was actually going to be alright.

I was released three days later. The doctors said I was well enough and that was all Lindsay needed. He was still demanding my immediate arrest, though. Like Dad had told me when I first woke up in the hospital, the doctors had tried their best, but hadn't been able to completely reverse the effects of Rambaldi's formula. What that meant exactly, no one knew for sure, but it shouldn't lead to any problems.

"Sydney?" my father's voice called.

I walked out from the cramped bathroom, where I had been putting the finishing touches on my makeup, at the sound of my name and tossed my makeup bag in the small duffle I had been given. "Dad." I greeted levelly.

My father was back in his black suit and had his 'agent' face on. "The NSC has agreed to let you see Sark, on the condition you are accompanied at all times by two NSC agents."

I nodded to the terms, having half-expected them anyway. I gathered my duffle and fell into step beside him as we left the hospital. My heels made satisfying clicks on the floor. I was dressed back in the outfit I had worn in Beijing; jeans, heeled boots and my leather jacket. I had seen the flicker of surprise in my Dad's eye when I had walked out of the bathroom and I can't say I was disappointed by that.

"Do I know the agents?" I asked, wondering if Lindsay himself would be accompanying me.

"Director Lindsay and Agent Reed." My father answered.

So I had been right. Lindsay was coming – not that I'd expected him to pass up the opportunity. Vaughn's wife was also someone I had expected to be there. She was Lindsay's right hand woman, after all. And if she was there, so would Vaughn. Oh, well. I suppose he'd just have to keep that anger of his inside…and I didn't mind the fact he would see me in my nice new image either. About time everyone realised that Sydney Bristow had a hell of a lot more attitude and spunk that they thought!

"I expected as much." I told my father.

The drive to the CIA offices in downtown LA was silent. I knew my father was trying to find the right words to discuss what had happed with the second half of the prophecy, but I wasn't interested in hearing it. I know that sounded harsh, but I just didn't want to have to explain, for what felt the millionth time, that I preferred people to just tell me the truth.

"Sydney…" he began once the car had been parked in the underground garage.

"Don't, Dad." I stopped him. "I know you believe you kept the truth from me for the best, but I hate it when people lie to me or hide the truth. You, of all people, know that."

The words came out angrier than I had intended and I caught the look of guilt and regret pass through my father's eyes. "I do know that, Sydney." He said. "What I actually wanted to say was that I'm sorry that I didn't tell you in the beginning."

"You were?" I said, surprised. This didn't sound like my father.

"You're a lot stronger than even I gave you credit for, Sydney. I…I didn't really ever acknowledge that. I should have. If I had, I would have understood you were strong enough to deal with knowing about the second half of the prophecy too."

I blinked back tears at my father's words; I could tell they were straight from the heart. "Thanks, Dad." I said.

We climbed out the car and made our way inside the building. I caught the looks of undisguised hatred and anger coming from the agents inside, but I just smirked at them like Sark would have and ignored it. Perhaps it wasn't the smartest choice to mimic Sark in the middle of a CIA office, but it felt damn good!

Lindsay and Lauren were waiting for us by the elevators that led down to the cells. I didn't say a word as I looked at them rather coldly. Lindsay seemed to almost be vibrating with anger at my presence, while Lauren no longer had to hide her hatred of me. It was kind of nice, I had to admit, to finally have them looking at me like they really felt, instead of hiding behind masks because I was the CIA's golden girl and they couldn't afford to make me an enemy…oh, hang on. Too late. They already had.

Vaughn stood just off to the side, near Lauren and I could see his eyebrows rise when he caught sight of my outfit. I hid a grin. I knew my jeans were tighter than the ones I used to wear and the makeup was definitely heavier. I really didn't look like the straight-laced CIA agent everyone thought they knew. I loved the feeling that gave me. Great boost to the ego too, when I caught him checking out my ass.

"Shall we?" I asked with a quirk of an eyebrow and walked to the elevator.

"Let me a few things straight, Bristow." Lindsay snapped furiously. "You are not here to talk to your partner or assure him that you are going to get him out. You are only here to encourage Mr. Sark to be more cooperative. I will remove you from the room the second I think you are acting out of line. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly." I replied. "You didn't need to shout."

I hid another grin when Lindsay looked like he was about to have a heart attack on the spot. Oh, if only he would. We got into the lift, all five of us and travelled in tense silence down to Sark's cell. I took the time to school my expression into one of neutrality. It would be tough, to see Sark on the wrong side of the glass and know the only reason he was there was because of me. I wanted so much just to bust him out right now, but I knew I couldn't.

Sark was sitting on his threadbare mattress when I entered the room. He didn't look up for a long moment and I could see the tension in his shoulders. My heart ached at the sight. When he did glance up, I saw the shock pass through his eyes. He hadn't expected to see me and when his glance flicked to Lindsay and Lauren, his eyes turned back into the ice I knew…and loved.

"Hello, Sydney." He greeted with a smirk, getting up from his bunk and walking up to the glass.

"Julian." I replied, wanting nothing more in that moment that to sink into his arms.

Behind me, Lindsay cleared his through. Sark gave him a curious and expectant expression, as if he were waiting for Lindsay to say something. I spoke instead. "Director Lindsay would like me to encourage you to be cooperative with the NSC." I said mildly, belying the outrage I felt.

"I just bet he does." Sark replied, his eyes never once betraying any emotion what-so-ever. Sark was back to being the assassin the world thought he was and I grinned at him. I was the only one in the room that saw beyond that…and knew the truth of the man behind the mask.

We stared at each other in silence for a moment and I tried to fix ever detail in my memory; the knowing smirk, the ice of his eyes, the proud bearing of his shoulders and the tension that seemed to ripple through the air. "I'm afraid Director Lindsay has informed me that I'm not allowed to talk to you or assure you that I'm going to get you out." I told him after a moment. "I can only encourage you to be more helpful."

Sark's smirk became slightly larger at my words, understanding the message behind the words. But then, it wasn't really all that hard. I wasn't trying to be subtle here. My play on words did not go unnoticed. "I told you this would be a bad idea!" he growled at Dad, before raising his voice and glaring at me. "Alright, Bristow. Time's up."

I didn't take my eyes from Sark's. "Don't ever forget what we had, Julian." I said softly as Lindsay strode forward. "Always and forever."

"Bristow!" he snapped, dragging me by the arm to the door. My father's expression darkened and I saw the effort it took for him not to rip Lindsay's arm off mine. "You have three hours to leave the country, Bristow." Lindsay growled, slapping my passport into my hand. "Any longer than that and the CIA will lock you up in a cage just down the hall from Mr. Sark."

"What makes you think you can catch me?" I asked, a smirk and a raised eyebrow directed at Lindsay. It really irritated him. "After all, Julian is far better than you and he could barely lay a finger on me if I didn't want him to."

I smirked wider when I saw the anger grow on Lindsay's face – and on Vaughn's when he caught the implications of my words. I shot him a knowing smile, just to provoke him some more. It probably wasn't very wise, but the new Sydney Bristow seemed fond of playing with fire. I turned back to face Sark, who had heard every word.

"Always and forever, Julian." I repeated.

Then I sauntered back out of the room and headed out of the country. I didn't need to look back to know Sark was smirking. Nor did I have to look at him to know he knew exactly what I meant…and that I'd be coming to get him very soon.

To Be Continued…