Alias: Sar and Sydney

"Excuse me? I'm going to be working with who?!?" Sydney demanded. Dixon sighed.

"I know, I know, he can't be trusted. Yet you've worked with Irina under similar circumstances before when her intel was needed…it can't be that different."

"And where is she now?"

"Sydney, I trust him as little as you do, but in this case, the end justifies the means. Sark is the only one who can get us access into the facility to acquire the necessary documents."

"There has to be some other way."

"I'm afraid there isn't in this case, not with the limited time that we have. He, of course, will not be armed and will be wearing a collar that you will be able to activate to give him a lethal injection, if necessary, just as was the case with your mother." Sydney's mouth thinned.

Great.

"You'll be staying in the only safehouse we have in the area, a small one with only one room, but it should be enough. Be careful, Sydney." Dixon looked into her eyes and she could see genuine concern there. Sydney sighed.

"I will." She replied. This was turning out to be a wonderful weekend.

~~~~~ *~*~* ~~~~~

Sark smirked when he heard about the scheduled op.

I'm going to spend the entire weekend in the company of man's greatest sexual fantasy.

Sounded like a worthwhile trip to him. He thought twice about that when Sydney roughly pushed him from the cell, then imperiously told him about the way things were going to run. When Sark tried to touch her, even on the arm, Sydney threw him off and hissed at him,

"Don't. Touch. Me." Glaring at him with sparks flying from her eyes.

She really would be more intimidating if she didn't look so good when she's angry.

~~~~~ *~*~* ~~~~~

Their flight was a silent one, with neither even glancing in the direction of the other. Their arrival at their new, cramped quarters was equally quiet, with only a raised eyebrow from Sark when he saw their shared bedroom, complete with bunk bed. Both of them exhausted, they immediately went to sleep.

~~~~~ *~*~* ~~~~~

Sark woke up in the middle of the night to hear Sydney tossing and turning on the bunk above him. Her movements were causing the bed to creak and she was moaning quietly in her sleep, words that only she could understand.

Bloody hell.

Sark groaned inwardly. Neither of them was going to get any sleep this way. Throwing off the covers, Sark stood, clad only in his boxers and collar, to look at Sydney sleeping on her top bunk.

Sydney was trapped in the same nightmare that had haunted her now for weeks. She was in the same claustrophobic, white-walled room as always, lying on a gurney. Sitting up, she checked the jagged scar on her stomach to find it open and oozing blood. Touching the gash, she feels rubber tubing and begins to pull on it. Faster and faster, Sydney pulls more and more rubber tubing out of her stomach, her crimson blood spattering the walls, becoming more and more frantic by the second.

Sark was struck by how beautiful Sydney looked, asleep in bed with a sliver of moonlight illuminating her face. The serenity of the moment was destroyed by her constant tossing and turning, her distressed, sweat-sheened face, her breath coming faster and faster until she was moaning and gasping for air in her sleep. Tentatively at first, then more boldly, Sark brought his hand forward and allowed his fingers to gently trace the planes of her face, so softly that she would have barely felt it, had she been awake. In any other man, his touch might have been considered a caress.

"Sydney," he breathed, "Sydney, wake up." Sydney's only response was to become even more frantic, tossing so wildly that Sark feared she would fall off her bunk, especially since the cheap beds had no safety rails to keep the unwary sleeper from falling.

Sydney's breathing escalated into short, quick gasps until finally she sat up in bed with a cry and tumbled off her bunk, straight into Sark's arms. Sark easily caught her and cradled her in his arms, sitting down on his bunk. Sydney, disoriented and terrified from her dream, instinctively latched onto the only thing that was real to her right now, this man cradling her so carefully in his arms, her anchor to reality. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, deep, wracking sobs shuddering through her body.

Warily, Sark tightened his arms around her and ran a comforting hand through her hair. When no negative response ensued, he stroked her back with his other hand, whispering to her softly.

"Shh, Sydney, it's over now…" Sark well knew what kind of dreams their lifestyle inspired and the terror they could inflict. Sydney didn't respond, crying as hard as ever, her breath coming in short, hiccuping gasps.

Sark felt a pang in his chest, of a kind that he hadn't felt for a long time. Sydney was so strong, and yet it seemed that even she was vulnerable at times. Feeling protective and not knowing quite why, Sark slowly laid the two of them down on his bunk, his arms still wrapped around her and her face buried in his neck. Whispering to her comfortingly and stroking her soft skin, then her hair, Sark couldn't help but notice how good she smelled.

Like…spicy vanilla, he thought and sighed. Sark started, suddenly. What was he thinking? What was he doing? This was the kind of thing little Boy Scout was for. Still, as he felt her sobs slowly begin to subside and the shaking of her body begin to diminish, he knew that there was no where else that he would rather be.

So this is what it feels like to be the ‘knight in shining armor' type, for once, he thought. Feels…good. Sark pushed the thought away. Sydney would be no good on their op if she got no sleep.

Sleep, Sark thought, sounds good right about now, his eyelids getting heavy. Craning his neck to look at her face, Sark saw that Sydney was asleep, all worry lines smoothed out of her face, her breathing slow and regular. Knowing that if he stayed with her it would make things awkward in the morning, Sark couldn't bring himself to move, indeed didn't even want to. She looked so peaceful. Resting his cheek on her hair, Sark gave in to sleep, closing his eyes and drifting off.

~~~~~ *~*~* ~~~~~

When Sydney woke up in the morning, she was alone in Sark's bed, confused.

Why am I in Sark's bed? She wondered bemusedly, still dazed by sleep. I don't remember sleeping that deeply since…wait…why am I in Sark's bed?!? Wide awake now, Sydney turned over to see Sark sitting in a chair, fully dressed in his usual crisp, black suit, studying her. The almost contemplative look on his face was quickly replaced with his trademark smirk.

"Ms. Bristow, so good of you to wake up in time for our op." He said, looking amused. Bewildered, Sydney blinked at him, only slowly remembering the events of last night and vaguely remembering having a nightmare and falling out of bed…to be caught by Sark.

Strange, she thought, but I almost remember being comforted after that, feeling…safe. Nah…she dismissed the thought. Must've still been dreaming…, peeking at Sark from beneath her lashes.

"If it's not too much trouble, perhaps you might consider getting up and dressed instead of trying to look like some coquettish flirt." Sark said coolly from his chair, still watching her.

Right, Sydney thought, definitely dreaming. Throwing off the covers she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and prepare for the day.

~~~~~ *~*~* ~~~~~

Much later, Sydney stiffly walked into the cramped apartment, careful to move her arm as little as possible. She'd really done a number on her shoulder this time. Thankfully, it wasn't broken, or even dislocated, but she knew that she had pulled and possibly even torn many of the muscles through her right shoulder and upper back. Now, hours later, she was so stiff that she could barely move her right arm without severe pain.

Firing a gun tomorrow should be interesting, she thought. Sark walked into the apartment behind her and made as if to offer to take her coat. Sydney glared at him fiercely and he shrugged nonchalantly as if to say, suit yourself then. Sark sat down in his chair to watch her, a smug grin on his face. Carefully, Sydney inched the coat off her body, trying not to wince in pain. After several agonizing minutes, she succeeded and hung her jacket on a hook.

"This is ridiculous," Sark commented from the corner, now standing up. "At least allow me to help you get some mobility back so you can aim a gun tomorrow."

"Back off," Sydney hissed, "I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I've never doubted that for a second, Ms. Bristow." Sark replied, walking towards her now, trademark smirk firmly in place.

"I'm fine."

"Compared to what, may I ask?" Sydney didn't reply. When Sark came within arms reach of her Sydney backed away towards the wall.

"Don't touch me." Sark raised a blond eyebrow, his smug grin only growing. Carefully avoiding her hurt arm, Sark pinned Sydney against the wall, his hard body pressed up against hers.

"Not scared, are we?" Sark breathed in her ear. Sydney felt his warm breath on her neck and shivered. Pulling back, Sark looked deep into her eyes, his mouth only inches from hers.

"If I was an attacker, you would be dead by now, unable to fight back. Leave off your pride and accept my help." Sark released her and retreated back to his corner. Sucking in a ragged breath, Sydney nodded, not sure if she accepted because of how much her shoulder hurt or because of how strikingly blue Sark's eyes were.

For his part, Sark was surprised at his own reaction. Being so close to her, feeling her soft skin pressed up against him had been making his cock start to grow hard and he had been sorely tempted to lower his mouth those few inches and press his mouth to hers.

Bloody hell.

What had gotten into him? No woman had ever been able to get inside his skin so easily, much less a woman who was barely an ally, best considered an enemy. His best bet was to consider her as just another agent, and sexless, rather than…damn. She was standing in front of him now, face downcast as she peeked up from beneath her lashes to resignedly ask him,

"What would you like me to do?" His cock jumped in his pants. Her submissive posture, voice and words brought a number of things to mind, all of which would probably result in her punching him with her good arm if he suggested them.

This is going to take iron control.

"Lie on my bed, Sydney, I'm going to try to loosen up the muscles in your shoulder." Catching his drift, Sydney looked up, a spark of mischief in her eyes. Carefully, slowly, she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it aside. Now it was Sydney's turn to smirk as she glimpsed the look on Sark's face before he quickly replaced it with an emotionless mask. Sydney lay down on the bed, face down. Sark groaned inwardly.

More like a superhuman effort.

Straddling her body on the bed, Sark began to slowly massage Sydney's neck, shoulders and upper back with his warm, strong hands. At first, Sydney's body was stiff and unyielding and she let out an occasional gasp of pain as he reached an especially tight spot.

"Sydney," Sark murmured, leaning down to speak in her ear, "this will be much easier if you relax." Sark let his hands travel up to the base of her neck, slowly massaging with his thumbs and working his way down her collarbone area. Breath by breath, Sydney relaxed, succumbing to the feelings his hands were sending through her body. Against her will, Sydney breathed a small, contented sigh. Sark's hands seemed to know all the right ways to touch her to take the pain away. As his fingers slowly massaged her right shoulder, Sydney involuntarily let escape an almost sexual moan of pleasure, marveling at how such a cold, calculating man could make her feel so wonderful.

It seems Ms. Bristow has finally let her guard down, Sark smirked. His cock, already hard in his pants, grew to the point of unbearable when he heard her breathy little moan. Unable to keep from imagining her moaning his name in that same voice, in a much more sexual situation, his eyes darkened and his breath became slightly ragged.

"Sydney," Sark murmured in her ear again,

"Mmm?" She replied, lost in the sensations he was causing.

"Time to turn over." Without hesitation, Sydney turned over onto her back and suddenly became very aware of the position they were in. Sark was now straddling her hips, leaning down on top of her, supporting his weight on his elbows. His hard-muscled body was pressed against hers and as she looked up to meet his eyes, she found him looking hungrily back, lust darkening the normally icy blue of his eyes. Heat flashed through her body and the next second his mouth was pressed to hers, kissing her hard and to her surprise, she found herself kissing him back. One of Sark's hands became entangled in her hair and Sydney's hands found their way up Sark's shirt, roaming over his muscled back. Tugging his shirt off, Sydney was surprised at her actions and momentarily taken aback. As Sark's lips began a scorching trail down her neck, to her collarbone and lower, Sydney quickly forgot any inhibitions and let herself go completely. Moaning into his mouth as he kissed her once more, reveling in the feel of his bare skin pressed against hers, Sydney lost herself in the moment and began tugging at his belt buckle.

Suddenly, the sound of Sark's phone ringing sounded through the room. Both Sark and Sydney jumped, looking almost guilty, before Sark hastily climbed off her to answer the phone. A noticeable tent in his pants, Sark glanced at her while talking and then quickly turned away, grabbing his jacket and walking out of the room.

***To be continued***