Author's Note: Just a quick disclaimer to say I had nothing to do with writing any of the episodes of Alias, so the quotes from the episode Full Disclosure are not mine. There's a spoiler alert for that episode too.

Cheeky.

---

Never Broken

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Eleven:

Galway

I flew to Europe an hour after seeing Sark. As soon as I got back to Sark's house on the cliffs, having hidden my tracks as best as I could so the CIA wouldn't track me, which I had been sure had been Lindsay's plan, I went straight to Sark's laptop and inserted the disc Marshall had given me.

The contents made me gasp, grin and vow to buy Marshall what ever his heart desired. The disc contained a list of three Rambaldi artefacts the CIA would give up anything to get their hands on; not only which artefacts they were, but they locations, what they looked like and who had them. It would be hard to get my hands on them, but I wouldn't have even come close if it wasn't for Marshall's little present. With those three artefacts in my possession, the CIA would even be willing to trade Julian Sark to get their hands on them.

Liam came into the room, seeking me out when I hadn't come to see him. "How are you feeling?" he asked me softly.

I turned to greet him, the grin still on my face. "Fine." I said, and saw the confusion cross his eyes. I had no doubt Sark had told him exactly what he planned to do and my reaction wasn't what he expected. I waved it away, before turning the screen so he could see. "A gift from my friend Marshall. If we can get our hands on these the CIA will be tripping over itself to give us Julian."

Now it was Liam's turn to grin. "That's amazing." He said.

"Oh, he is." I agreed.

At that moment, my cell phone rang, interrupting us. I answered cautiously, wondering if the CIA was calling to check that I had actually left the US. They weren't.

"Hello, Sydney." Bennetti greeted me.

"Bennetti." I replied.

"Have you been reading the diary?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Good." Bennetti said. "Good."

I frowned. "What is it, Bennetti?" I asked. "You didn't just call to check up on my reading."

"No, I didn't." Bennetti agreed. "I heard about Mr. Sark's unfortunate incarceration and wanted to offer my help."

"Thank you." I said. "But it's an awful risk."

"My family have spent the last few centuries trying to stopped Rambaldi's depraved agenda. Believe me when I say this is not the first risk we've taken." Bennetti told me. "Now, what can I help you with? I must admit, I have never broken anyone out of CIA custody before…"

"I'm not going to break him out through force." I replied. "It's damn difficult and they would expect it."

"So, what's the plan?" Bennetti asked, sounding both curious and amused.

"Thanks to a friend of mine, I have the locations of three Rambaldi artefacts the CIA desperately wants." I answered. "I was thinking of a trade."

Bennetti chuckled. "I'm sure the CIA will enjoy that." He said. "What are the artefacts?"

"Something called L'orologio, the Devil's Hand and the formula to Anima del Cuore."

"What if I said I could get the Devil's Hand for you?"

I blinked, then smiled, although Bennetti could see neither. "I would say thank you." I told him.

Bennetti chuckled again. "Shall we meet in Paris, then? 6pm, in two days time?" he said. "There's a little café I like. La petite Hantise."

"I'll see you there." I answered.

"Well, until then, Sydney." Bennetti farewelled and hung up.

"Until then." I agreed softly.

When I flipped my cell shut, I caught Liam's curious look. He had patiently waited for me to finish my conversation before asking any questions. I smiled before he could open his mouth, explaining my conversation. "That was Bennetti." I said. "He offer to get the Devil's Hand for us."

"Can we trust him?" Liam asked.

I nodded. "Bennetti was the one who gave me Isabella's diary. He doesn't want Rambaldi to succeed any more than we do."

Liam nodded, accepting my answer. "The artefact called L'orologio is actually a 15th Century Italian clock." He said. "It's owned by a rather important informant of the CIA, who recently allowed the clock to be displayed by a museum in Berlin. The CIA can't touch it because they need the intel their informant gives them too much."

I smirked. "Pity for them." I said. "You think you can retrieve the clock on your own?"

Nodding thoughtfully, Liam raised an eyebrow. "You're not coming with?"

I shook my head. "We can't let anyone figure out what we're doing until it's too late. So we hit them simultaneously, stealing the clock and the formula at the same time."

"Makes sense." Liam agreed. "The formula's going to be difficult though."

"I know." I grimaced. "What do we know about the League?"

The League was an organisation that was rather like the Alliance had been. The group was made up of men and women from many different countries, each as cunning and ruthless as each other. They dabbled in weapons dealing, drugs, gambling and money laundering along with selling secrets. A general multi-purpose evil organisation, really. The founding members also happened to be Rambaldi fanatics and had several important artefacts hidden away all over the world. According to Marshall, the formula for Anima del Cuore (which, interestingly, translates to 'heart's blood') was hidden in one of their safe houses in St. Petersburg.

"Not much…" Liam trailed off. "Hang on."

He consulted the laptop screen for a moment, before tapping a few keys and bringing up another – this one appeared to be a file on the League themselves. "Maybe if we use a distraction…" Liam muttered.

"A distraction?" I echoed, eyebrows raised.

With a smile, Liam looked up. "We need some way to force the League to move the formula. If they do that, they'll take it to one of two places. And if we can snarl the traffic…the formula should end up in a little church on the outskirts of the city. A perfect place for an ambush."

I nodded. It was a good plan. "I could tell them the Covenant are going to raid their place and try to steal the formula."

Liam grinned. "They'll check, but I think I can manage something."

"Just one problem." I said. "How are we going to mess with the traffic?"

Liam considered the problem for a second. "I could hack into the traffic lights and set them off." He suggested.

I grinned. "That'll work!"

It took us three more hours, but Liam and I managed to put together the rest of the plan and gather all the blueprints, equipment and intel we needed to pull this off. Liam even managed to write a programme to set the traffic lights in St. Petersburg off just when we needed them. I couldn't keep in my delight. In a few short days, Sark would be out. And then…Sloane had better watch out!

---

St. Petersburg

I shivered slightly in the cold night air of the Russian winter and drew my long black coat a little tighter around me. As I was posing as an associate of Mr. Sark (which I was – we were partners), I was dressed to kill; black designer suit underneath my coat, black leather gloves, diamonds at my ears and, of course, my funky heeled boots. My hair hung loose over my shoulders and my face was impassive. I looked just like a woman Sark would employ – beautiful, professional and deadly.

I hadn't been able to keep the smile off my face when I had first put on the outfit. Although I was playing a part, letting people assume I was something I wasn't, it was also the truth in a way. I was a professional and a damn good spy; I had survived many situations and dangers others hadn't. I was also an attractive woman – I played off that fact enough that it wasn't ego, but something I could use. As for deadly – if you pushed me hard enough I would take you down, no matter the odds. It had been a welcome and liberating feeling. Now that someone wasn't telling me who to be or how to act, I was slowly discovering who I was. And I had to admit, I really liked her.

Movement caught my eye, snapping me back to the present. A dark sedan had pulled up next to the freezing and draughty warehouse where I had arranged the meeting. Five-star it might not be, but it kept the snow off and, most importantly, it had several easy escape routes if things went to shit. I watched three men enter the warehouse and approach the small table I had placed in the centre of the cold, cavernous space. I let my expression turn cold – they were late. "Gentlemen." I greeted, my tone hard.

Two of the men sat down at the table, their arrogant expressions and carefully combed hair proving they were just mid-ranked henchmen that thought themselves higher than they were, and not the real men behind the League. The third remained standing behind the other two, clearly their bodyguard. The bodyguard, however, gave me a wary but respectful look, obviously noting in an instant that I was armed – and knew how to use it. I returned the same curtesy, absently wishing I was dealing with him instead of the two assholes he was protecting.

"I don't appreciate being kept waiting." I said, by way of opening, my tone still diamond hard. "The information I have is far more important to you than it is to me."

"That's all well and good, Miss…" one of them, a sliver-haired man with a French accent replied in a condescending tone.

"Bristow." I supplied, trying not to smirk as the two men jerked in their seat.

My gaze flicked to the bodyguard, but he, while tense, did not seem surprised at my revelation. It seemed he had been briefed on the situation while the other two had not. I began to re-evaluate my earlier assumptions of him. Perhaps he was not all he seemed.

"As I told your employers when I arranged the meeting," I said, stressing the word 'employers' so they would understand that I knew just who I was dealing with, "I have severed all ties with the CIA."

"Even your father?" the soft question came from the bodyguard, earning him a quick, but fearful look from the silver-haired man.

I allowed my lips to curve into a knowing smile, showing the man I knew he was more than a bodyguard. "Yes, even my father." I replied.

That wasn't exactly true, but I wasn't just going to blurt out the truth, now was I?

"How do we know we can trust you?" the silver-haired man's younger companion snapped, obviously trying to regain control of the conversation.

"You don't." I replied bluntly. "But your employers were obviously willing to take the chance."

The silver-haired man regarded me with cold arrogance. "Your information?"

I picked up the briefcase resting at my feet and strode towards the table. Swinging the briefcase up onto the table, I snapped open the locks and drew out a file, before slapping it down on the table in front of the men. "The Covenant is going to raid your complex and try to steal the formula for Anima del Cuore."

The silver-haired man and his younger companion looked through the folder which contained all the fake intel Liam and I had managed to collect over the last two days. We'd done our job well – I knew it looked damn convincing. The bodyguard, however, didn't seem too concerned about the folder. Instead, he fixed me with a piercing look and arched an eyebrow. "Damning information indeed." He said. "What I don't understand is why you and Mr. Sark are so willing to part with it. You have yet to ask for anything in return."

I considered my next words carefully, knowing I needed to convince this man that my offer was genuine – even though it wasn't. "Neither Mr. Sark or I have any love or allegiance towards the Covenant." I said. "In this case, we thought the old saying might be true – the enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"So you want to destroy the Covenant and you're using us to do it." The bodyguard surmised.

"And perhaps having someone owe us a favour in the process." I agreed.

The bodyguard chuckled. "Oh, Sark must be a very persuasive man. I wonder, what did he promise you in order for you to work for him? Many men have tried and failed."

As the man had been speaking, he seemed to straighten and shift. My expression didn't change as I watched him turn from a bodyguard into a confident and powerful agent of the League. Instead of surprising me or shocking me, I had to stop the smile that was threatening at the turn of events. The man standing in front of me was one of the men behind the League; a junior partner perhaps, but the real deal all the same. And if the League were willing to send him, they were going to accept my intel.

"It can't have been money or power. There would have been better offers than his." The man continued. "So what tempted the great Sydney Bristow to betray the country she had served so faithfully?"

I just smirked. "Something only Mr. Sark could offer." I said, and damned if I didn't see amusement in his eyes as I refused to answer his question.

"Well, Miss Bristow," the agent said. "The League thanks you for the information and we'll be glad to return the favour one day."

He strode up to the table, grabbed the file from his companions and jerked his head back to the car. With stiff postures, the two got up and left. I was glad I didn't have to spend anymore time with those assholes. "Until next, Miss Bristow." The agent farewelled.

I said nothing. If things worked out well, chances were I'd never see this man again. Or if I did, I had a feeling the confrontation would be anything but pleasant. He strode off towards the car and I returned to mine, which was parked behind the other side of the warehouse. Gratefully, I slipped into the much warmer car and slipped out my cell.

"They went for it." I said when Liam picked up on the other end. "I'm heading to the church."

"The traffic has been gridlocked over half of the city for about an hour now." Liam replied. "They'll have no option but to send the formula to the church."

"And straight into our hands." I said. "I'll call you when I have it."

"Give me an hour or two. I'm above the museum right now."

I grinned. Everything was going to plan – hopefully it would stay that way. "Speak to you in two hours, then." I agreed and snapped my phone shut, before starting the car and roaring off into the night.

---

Two hours later, I found myself standing in the shadows near a small, old church on the outskirts of St. Petersburg. I was shivering slightly in the cold, but had changed my outfit into something more suitable for what I was about to do. The combat boots, thick black pants and fur-lined jacket were warmer than my suit had been, but I had been standing out here for a long time. I couldn't afford to let anyone know I was here, which meant standing for a long hour and a half in the snow.

I grinned in delight when two black jeeps finally roared into sight. Right on time.

Watching carefully and remaining hidden, I saw three men get out of the jeeps, guns drawn and looking warily about. One of them was carefully carrying a small case and the other two hustled him quickly into the church. Knowing I had to act quickly, I snuck out of my hiding place, gun drawn and adrenaline thrumming through my blood.

Slipping on silent feet to the back window of the church, I peered inside. Arriving more than an hour ago had its advantages – as well as making sure I wasn't seen, I knew all the ways inside. Carefully, as there was no one in the small room beyond the window, I opened the window and snuck inside, cautious not to let the old window make a sound as I slid it back into place. I crept to the doorway of the room, drawn by the sounds of hushed conversation before.

I paused, questioning how far I was going to go. A few seconds were all it needed to take; burst out into the room and shoot the three men, grabbing the formula before anyone would have a clue what was going on. Not killing them would be harder – there was always a chance they could call for help, recognise who I was. As much as killing repulsed me, there was no option for failure. I needed that formula to rescue Sark and I was not failing in that task. Unbidden, a memory swam into my head…

My heels clicked loudly on the concrete floor as I entered a large room. A long table stood at one end, and five men and women were seated behind it. Arvin Sloane sat in the centre, an irritating smirk on his face. Next to him sat a beautiful brunette who bore a striking resemblance to Irina – my aunt, Elena Derevko. The man sitting on the other side of Sloane appeared to be smoking a cigar.

I noticed a man standing in front of the table as I strode across the room, head held high. It was the doctor I had killed in Frankfurt; the man who had spent six months trying to brainwash me. "May I present to you…Julia Thorne?" he said.

I stopped beside the doctor and faced the panel of the highest ranking members of the Covenant. I recognised the man with the cigar in that moment – McKenas Cole. The former agent of SD-6 how had broken in and tortured Sloane in order to retrieve the ampule designed to read Page 47. How he had come to work for the man he hated, I never knew. Perhaps he had met Elena while working for my mother.

"Welcome, Miss Thorne." He greeted. "The work you'll be doing for us requires a certain commitment."

As he spoke, a man tied to a wheelchair was wheeled into the room. The brown haired man seated in it was average-looking and dressed in denim, similar to a prison uniform. A piece of duct tape covered his mouth and above it, his eyes were wide with fear.

"Of course." I replied to Cole.

Cole regarded me carefully. "Who this man is, is not important. What is important is the knife on the table. Use it. Kill this unimportant man."

My face carefully hard and neutral, I walked to the table and grabbed the long-bladed knife. I turned to the man in the wheelchair without pause and stepped over to him. As he watched his death stride towards him, he struggled vainly with his bonds, muffled screams coming from behind the tape and his eyes even wider than before.

I plunged the knife into his chest, nausea rolling though my gut. The man screamed in pain and fear, before it suddenly cut off as I gave the knife a savage twist and pulled it out. It took every scrap of self-control I possessed to keep my expression cold and neutral; as if murdering a man in cold-blood did not affect me in the slightest.

I turned back to the panel, the bloody knife still held in my fist and my stomach threatening to rebel right then and there. Sloane was smiling evilly at me, as if somehow he was taking credit for turning me into everything I had fought not to be. I stared back, burying my feelings deep and knowing one day I would get my chance for revenge.

I suddenly snapped back to myself with a shudder. Ice seemed to grip my soul as the memory of the first murder I had committed for the Covenant sank into my mind. There had been others, I knew that beyond a doubt, even though I couldn't remember them. I might have killed a man who was dead the second the Covenant grabbed him and mine had only been the hand to carry out the deed – I also knew that if I had not killed him, not made the Covenant believe that I was reprogrammed, I would also have died that day – but it didn't seem to matter. I had killed him, pure and simple. I felt something in me harden at that and with it came a remembered awareness. At least I knew how far I was willing to go now.

I crammed my awakening memories into a corner of my mind to be dealt with later. I focused on the here and now, using my ability to compartmentalise to the fullest. Slowly, even my sense of nausea faded. Taking a silent, calming breath, I squared my shoulders before stepping out from my hiding place, just as the men finished their hushed conversation.

They never stood a chance. I fired three quick shots. Stepping around the now dead men, I knelt to snatch the case, only to discover in annoyance that it was handcuffed to the man who had been carrying it. Fear curled in my gut; the gunshots had alerted the men outside and I had seconds before they burst in. I could already hear the slamming of doors and the pounding of heavy footsteps. Frantically, I dug through the man's pockets, searching for the key. My fingers grasped it a second before the first man entered the room. I shot him as he rain in, still kneeling, and cursed that I had not thought to bar the door.

Running out of options fast, I vainly wished Sark was here to watch my back. It was ridiculous. Considering the reason I was doing this in the first place was because he wasn't with me.

I sprang to my feet and raced towards the door, before taking cover just beside it. I know there would only be about six to eight men to deal with and four were already dead. Two more men burst into the room, instantly spreading out to cover the room with their weapons. They weren't expecting an attack from behind them, however.

I kicked the gun out of the first man's hand, before spinning away as the second man whipped around. His bullet barely missed me. I shot back, my aim far better than his. A fist slammed into my kidney a split second after I had pulled the trigger, sending waves of pain flooding my body. I fell to my knees, my gun dropping from my grip and skidding across the floor. Gritting my teeth, I lashed out with a sweep, sending my attacker crashing to the ground. He twisted as he fell, his hand reaching for the gun he had dropped earlier, even as I went after my own. We fired at the same time. His shot went wide; mine didn't.

Taking a calming breath to slow my pounding heart, I scrambled over to the case, hoping there had been six guards instead of eight. I jerked in surprise when a cell phone went off, my nerves strung tight. I wasn't mine, so I undid the handcuffs and grabbed the case. A quick check confirmed it contained the formula, even as my ears strained for the smallest sound that could prove there were more guards out there. By the time I had slipped back out the window and to my carefully hidden car, I was feeling more in control.

I reached for my cell and dialled Liam's number as I wove through the late night traffic of St. Petersburg, the case safe on the passenger seat. "I have the formula." I told Liam without preamble."

"And I have the clock." Liam replied. "Any problems?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle." I answered. "You?"

"No. Shall I see you back home?"

"In a few days. There's something I have to do first."

"I'll see you in a day or two, then." Liam said. "Stay safe."

"You too." I flipped the phone shut as I made sure I wasn't being followed. Then, with a cold smile, I headed for the airport.

---

Paris

The café, La petite Hantise, was cosy and intimate, the sounds of the bustling street outside fading as soon as you walked in the door. I sat at one of the back tables, carefully seated so I could keep an eye on the door and still have an easy way out if needed. The smells of coffee and freshly baked pastries filled the air and I debated whether or not to order some food to go with the coffee I was currently sipping.

I was prevented from making a decision by Bennetti's arrival. "Sydney." He greeted, rather warmly.

He was wearing an impeccable grey (and obviously expensive) suit and his dark hair was combed into place. I had a momentary uncomfortable feeling of being underdressed in my jeans, boots and sweater, but I ignored it. "Bennetti." I replied.

He sat down in the chair opposite mine and ordered a cappuccino when the waiter approached. "Is there any way I can get you to call me Gianni?" he asked when we were alone again.

I felt a smile curve my lips. "Perhaps." I answered.

Bennetti chuckled. "Then, I shall have to settle for that." He said, as the waiter brought over his coffee. "I have the…item for you."

"Thank you." I replied. "Did you have any problems?"

"None that I wasn't expecting." Bennetti answered.

I tried to thank him again, but he held up a hand, stopping me. "There's no need to thank me, Sydney." He said. "What you're already doing is thanks enough."

We sat in silence for a moment, as I finished my coffee. I was about to excuse myself, when Bennetti reached into his jacket pocket and removed what looked like a small jewellery box. "A present for Mr. Sark." He said. "He'll know what to do with it."

I raised my eyebrows in curiosity, but faithfully put it into my pocket without giving into the temptation to look inside. "I'll give it to him." I replied.

Bennetti inclined his head in response and I smiled in return. I felt Bennetti push his briefcase towards me with his foot and I picked it up as I rose. I dug into my pocket for some money to leave, but Bennetti shook his head. "Please, allow me." He said.

"Thank you." I replied with a small nod.

"Good luck." Bennetti said as I turned away to leave. "Oh, and Sydney?"

I turned back to face him. "If you need any more help, please don't be afraid to call me."

I nodded again, before heading out the door, the Devil's Hand carefully hidden in the briefcase I carried. I had a trade to arrange.

---

Mexico

Ultimately, I decided there was a certain irony to holding the exchange in the same place Sark had been traded to the Covenant – which is how I found myself standing in the hot sun in a familiar dry lake, watching several dark jeeps and a van with tinted windows approach. This time I was more appropriately dressed in jeans, hiking boots and a tank top, my hair hanging loose. I wore sunglasses against the glare and leant against the sleek black convertible I had arrived in, my arms folded across my chest and a smirk playing at the corner of my mouth.

I watched the CIA agents file out, there suits unmistakable. I dialled a number on my cell. It rang twice before someone picked up. "Vaughn." Came the familiar voice.

"You see the small table about ten metres in front of you?" I said, getting straight to the point before Vaughn got all righteously indignant and made me shoot him. "On it are the three Rambaldi artefacts. They're wired to explode. I will blow them up if you come any closer. I will blow them up if Sark is harmed in any way. Do you understand this?"

"I understand." Vaughn growled somewhat angrily, after a pause. "What I don't understand is why the hell you're doing this, Syd! Sark is a wanted terrorist! He deserves to rot in jail!"

"We are not here to discuss my motives." I said coldly. "I will only deactivate the explosive when Sark is safely in my charge and we are allowed to leave."

There was another pause. "Syd…"

"Do we have a deal, Agent Vaughn?"

I heard Vaughn muffle the phone and have a hushed conversation with someone. Who it was, I didn't know, but I suspected it was Lauren. She was no doubt representing the NSC at the exchange. Just as my impatience was growing almost too much to bear, Vaughn came back on the line. "We have a deal." His voice was cold and held an undercurrent of anger.

"Good." I replied, my voice just as cold, just without the anger. "Send him over."

I snapped the phone shut, keeping my pose seemingly relaxed and moved my free hand closer to my gun in case everything was about to go horribly wrong. "How are we doing?" I asked Liam softly, careful to keep my lips barely moving so the agents watching me through binoculars couldn't read my lips.

"I count four jeeps full of NSC goons." Liam replied via my earpiece. "So far they're holding position."

"Let me know the second they move." I said.

"I will." Liam replied.

Across the dry lake, I watched some of the agents swarm around the van and slowly the familiar figure of Sark came into view amongst them. He was still dressed in his black prison sweats. Someone, who looked very much like Weiss, undid his handcuffs and leg shackles while Vaughn watched. Then I blinked as my Dad walked determinedly towards Sark and appeared to have a few harsh words with him. I dialled Vaughn again. "Send him over." I growled.

Sark was shoved forwards in my direction and he stumbled a little. His face was the cold mask of the assassin; his blue eyes were like ice and betrayed no emotion. Over the open phone line I even heard the cold wit he threw over his shoulder as he walked away. "Thank you, gentlemen, but this is where I have to leave your wonderful hospitality." Sark said, and I just knew he we smirking. "Until next time?"

I hung up the phone again, just as Vaughn plaintively said my name. I wasn't in the mood. I watched everyone carefully as Sark approached, hoping Lindsay wasn't stupid enough to try something, but knowing that he inevitably would. And then suddenly Sark was in front of me. I felt my expression soften as I looked into his beloved blue eyes. Eyes that were currently staring at me with an expression of wonderment.

"Syd…" he began.

I put a finger to his lips to stop his words before leaning upwards to give him a kiss like I had been yearning to do since I had seen him in his cell. His arms came up to cradle me and his hands tangled in my hair. "I'll explain everything later." I told him softly when we broke apart. "Let's get out of here."

He grinned at me, before raising his eyebrows at the car. "Don't worry." I said with a grin of my own. "It isn't one of yours. I stole it from an asshole in Texas."

Sark chuckled as he climbed into the passenger seat. "Lindsay's on the move." Liam's amused voice said though my earpiece.

"Copy that." I replied.

Sark gave me a curious look. "Liam." I explained. "Earpiece."

He gave me a smirk in reply. I slid behind the wheel and started the engine, even as I punched the code to deactivate the explosives into my cell. As soon as that was done, I dialled Vaughn for the last time. "The Rambaldi artefacts have been deactivated." I said. "They're all yours. Oh, and Vaughn? Tell Lindsay he'll have to do a lot better next time."

Beside me, Sark gave a chuckle and Liam's laughter echoed in my ear. I roared away in a cloud of dust, speeding down the twisting roads that led away from the lake. "Man, I think Lindsay turned purple!" Liam crowed.

"Oh?" I said, as the four NSC jeeps fell into line behind us.

"Aye! Although, I'm not sure whether it was your comment and escape or the kiss that did it." Liam mused.

Catching Sark's wary look in the rear view mirror, I hid my knowing smile. "There's a gun in the glove box." I told him. Then I glanced sharply at the lead jeep. "Hang on."

Sark grabbed the side of the car as he fished the gun out of the glove box and I whipped the car into a sharp turn. In a smooth move, Sark took the opportunity to fire at our pursuers. One of the front tyres of the lead jeep blew with a loud bang and the jeep went into a skid. It jerked completely to the side when Sark blew the other tyre and the jeep directly behind it crashed into it almost immediately. I accelerated as loud crash rocked the air and the two jeeps rolled off the road in a spectacular sight. The remaining two jeeps smashed their way through the small amount of wrecked still on the road and accelerated to catch up.

I headed for the nearby hills, hoping to loose the two remaining jeeps amongst the sharp turns. Sark let off a few more shots behind us at the pursuing jeeps, before shooting me a sidelong look that was full of challenge. I returned his look with one of my own, before accelerating some more. I may not be able to afford as many fast cars as Sark could, but I sure as hell knew how to drive one.

The speed and the wind whipped my hair our behind the car and I couldn't help the smile that spread over my face as I pushed the car to its limits; slamming it around sharp turns and along dirt roads. Sark and I chuckled when we left the NSC goons in the dust. As good as they were, we were better. They were no match for us.

I spun the car to a halt in a spectacular stop, halting barely a few steps from where Liam was setting the chopper down in the clearing. I grinned at Sark and raced to the chopper; he was only a step behind me. As the NSC pulled up beside the now abandoned convertible, I couldn't help the cheeky wave I gave a fuming Lindsay as he lurched out of the car.

As soon as we were out of range of their bullets, which naturally, they had insisted on shooting at us, Sark shifted and pulled me into his lap. "That was some rescue, Syd." He grinned.

"Why, thank you!" I grinned cheekily back, yelling a little to be heard above the roar of the chopper and the rushing wind.

"They'll track the helicopter, of course." Sark commented.

"Hmm, I suppose they will." I agreed.

Sark leaned down and kissed me. "You've taken care of everything, haven't you?"

"Well," I replied. "You don't just think I'd let you stay stuck in a cell for the rest of you life, did you?"

Sark's expression turned contemplative. "Why didn't you?" he asked.

I shifted slightly in his arms, looking him dead in the eye. "Because you gave up your freedom for me. Because we're partners. Because you're one of the few things in my damn life that actually makes it worth living." I answered with blunt honesty.

Sark smiled, before kissing me again. "Well, I'm glad you did."

"Hey, lovebirds!" Liam yelled from the cockpit. "This is where you get off!"

I scrambled to my feet and pulled Sark up behind me. The wind rushing past the open sides of the old chopper whipped my hair around my face and the floor heaved slightly underneath my feet, but nevertheless, I stuck my head into the cockpit and grinned at Liam. "Thanks for the lift!"

"No problem!" he called back with an answering grin. "See you back in Ireland!"

Liam artfully brought the chopper down a little and kept it hovering rather steadily as Sark said his own thanks and goodbyes. When he joined me at the open side he raised an eyebrow. I grinned back. Then, grabbing his hand, I jumped out of the chopper and plummeted downwards into the deep blue water of the Pacific Ocean.

We hit the water with a splash as Liam swung the chopper around and headed off. I slung back my hair as I broke the surface and shot another grin at Sark. I had to admit, I was having fun. The adrenaline was pumping and Sark was back! What else could a girl want?

"What that really necessary?" Sark asked.

I laughed. "Come on." I said. "It was fun."

With another chuckle at his expression, I turned and headed for the luxury yacht that was moored about ten meters away. I dragged myself onto the lowered deck at the stern. I helped Sark up behind me and we lay there for a second, feeling a bit bedraggled. Feeling the warm sun on my skin I couldn't help but let out another laugh. "Come on." I said, getting up. "There's a change of clothes inside and the faster we get to Peru, the faster we can get to the plane."

Sark grabbed me by the waist as soon as I entered the cabin and spun me around for a hungry kiss. "How about we just get to international waters?" he growled. "The plane can wait."

"Mmm." I agreed as I watched his eyes darken to a stormy blue. "The plane can wait."

To Be Continued…