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Moments in Time	By : SaMe Category: 1 through F > Alias Views: 5110 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Alias, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Moments in Time
- 1
Moments in Time

An Alias drabble by Merrie

Disclaimer: If wishes were horses I�d sell mine and buy
Sark.

Summary: A romantic interlude to take the edge off.

Author�s Note: This
is my second entry for the Holiday Sarkney Challenge.
I hope you like what I came up with!

Rating: R-NC-17

Sydney sighed as she politely declined yet another
irritating waiter offering too salty hors d�oeuvres and flat champagne. �I�m
not getting paid enough for this,� she murmured under her breath, only to be
overheard by said irritating waiter. �Oh I didn�t say anything, darling.
Thanks,� she assured him with a cheery smile that threatened to crack her face
in two. The waiter nodded and thankfully went off to offer some other
unsuspecting victim his wares.

Sydney sighed again as she moved about the ballroom, now
warding off drunken men along with the annoying waiters. Why was she even here?
This was supposed to be New Year�s Eve, the night for celebration and new
beginnings and midnight kisses. Instead, she was forced into some loud party
with bad food, grabby men and painful shoes. She couldn�t even remember what
she was here for. A disk? A file?
Pictures? The director of the CIA�s lost car keys? She
just wanted to get out of here and go home and sleep for a week. Alone.

�Good evening, Agent Bristow,� a painfully familiar face
interrupted her thoughts, causing her to turn and affix her tired features into
a stony glare. Perfect. This was just
what she needed.

�Sark,� she seethed. �I�d ask why you�re here, but since
that�s pretty obvious how about we commence with the ass kicking?�

Sark tsked. He actually tsked.
�Come now, Sydney. It�s New Year�s. I thought it was the time for new
beginnings and all that rubbish? Surely we can be civil for one night?�

The fact that he was echoing her thoughts about the whole �new beginnings� bullshit just served to
annoy her further. �No deal, Sark. And don�t call me Sydney.�

�Not even if I said you look particularly ravishing tonight,
Sydney?� he went on, completely disregarding her demand. She did look rather
beautiful in a floor-length black velvet gown held up by her ample breasts and
pure imagination. His eyes had just gotten down to the glimpse of a tanned leg
through a slit in the skirt that nearly ran all the way up to her waistline
when she slapped him.

�My, my you are in a mood tonight,�
he commented as he ran a hand across the quickly reddening handprint across his
cheek before moving it down to straighten his bowtie. �I can�t say I blame you.
Having to work on tonight of all nights in a place as wretched as this. Have
you tried the champagne? Completely disgraceful.�

Sydney blinked at him as if he had grown a second head. �Are
you drunk, Sark?� It was the only explanation she had for why he was acting
this way.

�On that
champagne? Absolutely not. I did treat myself
to a few glasses of bourbon at the bar as they regretfully do not carry Ch�teau
Petruse. Heathens,� he murmured.

Sydney rolled her eyes. �I�m not going to be able to get rid
of you, am I?� Sark shook his head with a smile. �I didn�t think so,� she
murmured. �I�d just arrest you but I have a job to do first.�

�Ah yes. The job. You�re after the
disk, I presume?� he produced an encased CD out of a tux pocket like a
magician. �You can have it if you want. I have no use for it really. And
honestly, you look tired Sydney. I think the CIA is working you too hard.�

Sydney blinked at him as if he had grown a second head.
�You�re just�giving it to me?� She reached out a tentative hand to take the
disk before holding it steady a mere inch away. �What�s the catch?� she asked
warily.

�A dance,� Sark answered without hesitation. It was as if he
had been waiting for the question.

�A dance?� Sydney repeated
incredulously. �That�s it? You�ll give me the disk for a dance?�

Sark nodded. �A dance, yes. With me. Right now. Do so and the
disk is yours.�

�You must be really
drunk,� Sydney murmured doubtfully.

�That�s not in question. Do we have a deal or not?�

Sydney wavered for a moment more before snatching the disk
out of his hands and tucking it�well he wasn�t entirely sure where she put it
as the dress was skin tight, but she must have put it somewhere because as far as he could see it had disappeared.

�Shall we?� Sark asked, offering her his arm.

�Step on my feet or lead me into another person or the band
and I�m jamming one of my heels through your foot,� she warned as she
grudgingly took his arm and followed him to the dance floor.

�Understood,� he said with mock gravity. She needn�t have
worried however. Even though she could clearly smell the alcohol on his breath,
he never missed a step, gracefully turning her across the dance floor as she
admittedly knew he probably would have. She could tell by the way he moved that
he had the grace of a large and very deadly cat, and that transferred
flawlessly onto the dance floor. Unfortunately, as he mind wandered onto
thoughts of him, her eyes decided it was therefore safe another to take a
second look at him. He was cute; she
had to give him that. In black tie and tails he was rakish and he knew it. �See
something you like? I know I do, love,� Sark whispered into her ear, his voice
practically dripping with confidence and charm. Not to mention a hefty handful
of drunken lust.

�Ugh, get away from me, Sark,� she muttered disgustedly when
in truth she was trying to hide a shiver at the feeling of his hot breath in
her ear.

�I can�t. We�re dancing,� Sark said simply, nodding to their
joined hands and his arm wrapped almost protectively around her waist.

�Fine. But once this song is over,
I�m arresting you. You can sober up in CIA custody�� she fell silent as the
band abruptly stopped playing. Wait,
what�s going on? Why has the band stopped playing? The music wasn�t that bad. When the crowd chanted FIVE in unison, the answer to her
question made itself abundantly clear. New Year�s Eve. Right. The time of new beginnings and I�m stuck here with
Sark. Sark who�s staring at me�wow he has really, really blue eyes. Have I
never noticed that before? The crowd
let out a FOUR and he moved closer.
When THREE came along, she froze but
did not back away as he moved closer still. TWO. Even
closer. ONE. Holy shit he was right on top of her.
At the boisterous HAPPY NEW YEAR rang
out, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss tasting faintly of alcohol that
left her breathless.

�Happy new year, Sydney,� he whispered as they broke apart,
�Auld lang zine� somehow
unable to drown out his words no matter how softly they had been spoken.

She was stunned, to say the least. Girl, get your head in the game! A known assassin and terrorist just
kissed you! Slap him! Kick his ass! Do something!
She kissed him again.

It was Sark�s turn to ask surprised. �What-not that I
minded-was that for?�

Sydney didn�t have an easy answer. She wasn�t even quite sure
why she had kissed him again instead of slapping him either. She only knew that
the initial kiss had sparked something inside of her intense enough that she
was willing to kiss him again to figure out what it was. She realised that Sark
was waiting for an answer. �I needed to see something.�

�Oh? And what was that? The length of my
tongue? Whether or not my teeth were crooked? Feel free to check again.�

�Why did you kiss me, Sark? We�re not even on the same
side?�

Sark shrugged. �Why did you kiss me back?�

�I asked first, Sark,� she said firmly.

�Because I wanted to. I�ve wanted
to do that for a long time.�

�You�ve wanted to kiss me? Why?� Sydney asked, clearly not
believing it.

The alcohol loosened his tongue and made him even more
eloquent than he normally was, and that was saying a lot. �You�re beautiful and
graceful and deadly and powerful and sexy with a gun in your hands or even not
at all. You move with a passion and purpose that I�ve never seen before in any
other. You are untouched by the cruelties of this world despite the hardships
you have endured. You are strong in all the ways I know I could never be.�

Sydney blinked at him. �Oh. Ok. Wow.� She made a face at her
inability to talk properly after such a proclamation, but damn it, she was
shocked.

�You�re going to slap me again, aren�t you?� Sark asked with
a slight wince in anticipation.

Sydney thought about it, but something in the way he ducked
his head in preparation for the blow almost as if he were expecting more than
just a mere slap made her heart leap to her throat. �I�m not going to slap you,
Sark,� she said with a soft sigh. �You said it yourself. I kissed you back.�

�And what does that mean?� he asked, looking at her warily
despite her reassurance that she wasn�t going to slap him.

�Hell if I know. You�re a smart guy. You figure it out.�

�I think you fancy me,� Sark said with a nod.

�What?� Sydney spluttered. �In your
dreams, Sark.�

�Yes, well be that as it may, I still think I�m right. But
even if I�m not, which is unlikely, there is a way to be certain.�

�Oh really? And what�s that?� she
asked, having a feeling she wasn�t going to like the answer.

�Kiss me again.�

�Sark, we�re standing in the middle of the dance floor
surrounded by people who might recognize us. I�m not kissing you again. Wait, where are you taking me? Let go!�

�I�m taking you somewhere where you�ll kiss me,� he murmured
as he led her off of the dance floor, through the ballroom, past the swelled
crowd of waiters and liquored party guests, and into a dark bedroom. Once he
had led her through the door, he reached around to turn on the lights and
closed and locked the door behind him.

�You�re insane,� she said with a laugh as he made a show of
closing his eyes and puckering his lips, waiting to be kissed.

�And you�re not kissing me,� he said, cracking an eye open
to look at her. She grew a little uncomfortable at how beautifully deep blue it
was. She wasn�t supposed to be noticing such things. Especially not about Sark!

�Alright fine,� she said as she leaned in to kiss him. She
didn�t know what the hell she was doing anymore. Her mind seemed to have taken
the holiday her body so desperately needed. She didn�t even know why she had
followed him in the first place!

The kiss moved through her like lightening, sparking every
nerve and feeling within her until she felt like she was practically buzzing
from the energy. Sark�s lips were two trails of fire on her own, igniting the
kiss and letting it fly. Her brain promptly balked at the sensation of his
tongue first pressing against her mouth insistently and then inside, but the
rest of her was clearly enjoying it as evidenced by the short moan that had
crawled unwanted and unexpected from her throat. The moan only served to spur
him on and hands that had previously been clenched at his side in an attempt
not to touch her were suddenly moving over her skin with a purpose.

�Sark�don�t,� she gasped, suddenly
clearly confused and mildly frightened of where this was going. His hands felt
so good on her skin, bringing up fire and passion from within her without even
really trying. In fact, his hands felt too
good. That�s right. This is wrong,
the still rational part of her brain asserted. He�s your enemy. You can just leave now and chalk it up to having too much
to drink. As she hadn�t even had a full glass of the horrid champagne yet,
that excuse wasn�t going to work. Pure sexual frustration?
You�re so desperate to get laid, you�re willing to jump the first� Sydney
cut that thought off before it could go any further.

�Why?� Sark practically begged, his crooked lower lip
protruding lightly in a pout. Sydney�s eyes immediately went to that lip and
she had to forcibly plant her heels on the carpet to keep herself
from moving to take it between her lips and nibble on it. What the hell is wrong with me? Did someone spike the punch? This is
SARK! �Please, Sydney. Just tonight. Let us forget about everything else and just
be together tonight.� Sark didn�t sound drunk anymore. In fact, he sounded so
seriously sober that she began to wonder if the drunkenness had been all an
act.
Could she just give in? It wasn�t right, it was far from
smart, and yet� Damn. Just take him
already and stop arguing with yourself. She gave a small shrug, uttered a
�what the hell,� and fervently hoped she wouldn�t regret this tomorrow as she
leaned in to give into her earlier desires; worrying his bottom lip gently. Her
forthrightness was rewarded with happy sigh and a softly uttered thank you as
his hands went back to work.

Sark�s lithe fingers practically danced over her skin,
following the lines of her exposed collarbone and shoulder blades as if trying
to create a map of her skin within his mind�s eye. After a few minutes his head
moved away from hers to begin laying gentle kisses down the curve of her neck
across her right shoulder as his hands moved to cup her breasts through the
soft velvet of her dress. Sydney gasped, arching into her touch as his nimble
fingers found her pebbled nipples and began gently pinching and rolling them between
his fingers much to her delight. Sydney retaliated a moment later by quickly
unbuttoning his tux jacket and pushing it off of his shoulders to fall in an
expensive puddle at their feet. As he reached up to remove clips and bobby pins
from her upturned hair, she unbuttoned and pushed off his vest to add to the
growing pile of discarded clothing at his feet.

�Beautiful,� he breathed as he leaned back to appreciate her
hair now loose and curling around her bare shoulders. As he brushed a lock of
her hair out of her face, his expression gave her pause. There was clearly more
than lust in his gaze and she had to admit it scared her a little. What was
this to him? Was this just a mindless fuck in some expressionless room due to
too much alcohol and raging hormones? Or was it more? And if it was more, then
how much more was it? Was it affection? Desire? Love? God, she couldn�t handle love. Not now, not from him,
not from anyone.

Before she could go into a full-blown panic attack about his
unspoken feelings, she told herself to stop overreacting. This was Sark. He
couldn�t love her. Such an idea was ludicrous.

�Шахта,� Mine he growled in Russian, startling her even more. If he truly
felt nothing for her as she hoped, then why was he acting so possessive all of
a sudden? This was very bad, and yet she couldn�t make him stop. It was too
much, too sweet. This was what she needed and wanted. Selfishly, she thought it
wouldn�t so bad to be loved. Especially by someone like Sark.
If he loved her, then he would be less inclined to shoot� The thought slipped
out of her brain as his tongue traced the shell of her ear before blowing on
the skin wetted by his kisses, causing her skin to grow sharply cold under his
breath. She shivered and her hands moved to untie his bowtie and unbutton his
shirt. He stopped as he quickly came to the realisation that he was bare from
the waist up while she was fully clothed and he quickly led her to the bed,
avoiding the pile of his clothing and her bobby pins and clips as he moved.

She let out a soft �oof� as she
was pushed down on the bed, and then couldn�t help but smile as she was quickly
flipped onto her stomach as he located the zipper of her dress and pulled ever
downward, his eyes fixed on the now exposed expanse of her skin and her lacy
black bra, panties, garters and stockings. Not to mention the four-inch heels
still strapped to her feet. She knew she was dressed to kill and began to worry
that such a thing had actually happened as he neither said anything nor moved
for a long minute. �Sark?� she asked warily, turning her head to attempt to get
a glimpse of him.

�Вы
будете самой
красивейшей
женщиной,
котор я
всегда видел.
Сделайте
простиньте
меня если я
считаю его
несколько
трудно
держать
прямую мысль
вокруг вас.
Вы клоните
неимоверно
отвлекать.
Как для
пример,
сколько
времени я
говорил на
русском
языке?� You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Do forgive me if I
find it somewhat difficult to hold a straight thought around you. For instance,
how long have I been speaking in Russian?

�Not long,� Sydney said with a laugh. She actually thought
it was rather cute that he forgot to speak in English around her. She blushed
as she went over what he had said again. �You really think I�m beautiful?�

Sark flipped her back over once he had shed of her dress and
gave her a look that made her feel dumb for asking.

�Alright, you think I�m beautiful,� she acknowledged with a
slow grin up at him. �You�re not too bad looking yourself even if you�re
wearing more clothes than I�d prefer at the moment�and is that a gun or are you
just happy to see me?� she teased.

�It�s a gun,� Sark said wryly, removing the inner pants
holster from his hip and set it on the floor next to the bed after a quick look
at her. It threw off the lines of his tux to carry it, but he wasn�t going to
go on a mission unarmed. �Where�s yours?�

�A lady never tells,� she said huskily, and a wicked grin
came surprisingly easy to her face.

�It�s in your purse,� he ventured, leaning down to kiss her
toned stomach.

Sydney was having none of it. She wrapped her fingers in his
still too-short hair and brought his eyes up to meet hers. �Clothes.
Off. Now.�

Sark smirked at her. �I love a woman who knows what she
wants,� he said wryly. Apparently he wasn�t moving quite fast enough for her
though because she pushed him up to his knees and began removing his pants for
him. He sat back and let her have her fun, enjoying the feeling of her heated
eyes on her body as she undressed him. Among other things, it gave him a chance
to give her the definitely-more-than-twice-over. Her black bra was strapless
and sexy, designed to push her breasts up to take advantage of the low-cut
dress. Her panties were nothing more than a scrap of lace, barely covering the
glimpse of heaven that he knew lay beneath. And garters, how he loved garters.
To him, they were the epitome of a sexy woman. Not to mention the four-inch
heels she had strapped on her feet. God, she was bloody intoxicating.

Sydney smiled to seem him so entranced; a swell of feminine
pride moving through her as she witnessed first hand the effect she had upon
him. It was too perfect a situation to pass up really. As she had removed his
remaining clothing-taking full time to appreciate what she saw as she did so-he
had helped by lifting his hips off of the bed so she could more easily undress
him, all the while not taking his eyes off of her as she did it. In fact, she
would say it was a safe bet he hadn�t even noticed he was naked; his gaze was
so intent on her. Oh, too easy. You can�t
pass this up. With a wicked grin, her fingers wrapped around his impressive
erection, eliciting a �bloody hell!� and
a Russian curse from him as his attention was swiftly brought back to her face,
rather than her chest.

She laughed at his shocked expression, and then felt a
trickle of heat between her legs as he tilted his head back to expose the pale
column of his throat, sighing softly at her touch. But there was no way in hell
she was going to let him get off that easy. She had her own needs too. �Sark,
touch me.�

He had just been about to give in to her demand when they
were both startled by the rising sound of something squeaking in the hall
outside the door. It must have been a waiter pushing some kind of cart because
the sound was clearly identified as the bane of shopping cards across the
world; the squeaky wheel. �The squeaky wheel gets the grease,� she murmured
under her breath before her breath caught in her throat as she saw the way he
was looking at her. His eyes were a deep ocean blue and she could practically
see the crashing of waves in them as he watched her. She had been half worried
that the interruption might have shattered the fragile mood they had forged
together, but looking in his eyes she saw that was clearly not the case.

�Say when,� he whispered, his voice thick with lust and
desire. Before she had time to discern what he had meant by that, she was
moaning as his hands quickly undid her garters with ease-something which
impressed her, Vaughn had always had trouble with them-and practically ripped
off her panties. She had been about to complain, not everyone had his kind of
salary, but then his head dipped between her legs and thought seemed incredibly
redundant. As his hot mouth moved over the slick cleft and bud, her hands moved
so that she could tangle her fingers in his short hair, intent on directing him
where she wanted him to kiss and needing a place to hang on to. He didn�t
particularly need the direction, but she definitely
needed to hang on. He licked and kissed and nibbled and bit and teased, alternatingly thrusting his tongue deep within her and
gently sucking on her clit, drawing loud moans as he did so and causing spots
to dance before her eyes. Suddenly, her body decided she didn�t have a chance
at withstanding such bliss and she came, just barely remembering his request
before she did so. �When, when, oh god
Sark, WHEN!� she screamed in the throes of release. He merely grinned
wolfishly and drank in every last drop of her pleasure.

When she had sufficiently regained her breath, only then did
he move on top of her; his hardened length dragging between her legs but not
moving inside of her yet. He delighted in her whimper at the contact as he
kissed the underside of her jaw. �Ready love?� he drawled thickly.

�Julian Lazarey, Sark, whatever the hell your name is, if
you don� take me right now I am going
to have to hurt you,� she said sweetly.

�How do you know my name�� his query was cut off with a yelp
as she reached around and pinched his left cheek soundly. �Bloody
hell, woman! What was that for? One would think you�d be a little nicer
to me after what I just did for you,� he grumbled, reaching around to rub the
afflicted area.

�Want me to kiss it better?� she teased, her grin promising
dark deeds and sleepless nights.

Sark gave her a weighted look and
then shook his head. �No, I�d rather give you what you want,� he said with a
smirk as he moved across the bed to her. Before she had time to give a snarky remark like �oh
really?� he was already thrusting into her, and once more all thought was
lost.

Hands moved over her breasts, removing and discarding her
bra without hesitation, pinching and squeezing and kneading and caressing the
milky white mounds until she was practically buzzing under his touch. And all
the while, he was keeping her in a state of ever increasing arousal with quick,
hard thrusts into her; fast enough to suit his own growing arousal, but slow
enough for her to feel every inch of him as he moved in and out of her.

Her legs quickly moved to lock around his lean hips, locking
his body to hers and thereby limiting the range of his thrusts. He growled at
her presumption, but didn�t try to free himself. Especially
after he had seen the smug look of pure ecstasy on her face. Her name
became a fervent chant upon his lips as he burrowed in to her, his hardened
length hitting that magical spot within her that he had been aiming for;
wanting to hear her scream. And scream she did. Loud piercing screams that
might have been his name bounced off the walls with every thrust of his hips.
Her hands reached around to leave long painful gouges in his back, but he
couldn�t have been happier. This was pure raw emotion and for a man like him, a
man who couldn�t let himself feel to remain effective
at his job, it was the ultimate release.

Spots and amorphous coloured shapes dance before her vision,
and Sydney knew she was close. In
fact, that was all she knew: the movement of his hips, the feel of his hardened
ridge of flesh deep inside of her, and her name upon her lips. If she noticed
that she was screaming, she gave no sign. She just lost herself in the whirlwind
of sensation, more than happy to let go.

She screamed his name as she came, her eyes tearing and her
body ridged as her inner walls moved wildly around him, crying out a low moan
with every fluctuation of those strong muscles against him. When she dimly felt
him come inside of her, another orgasm launched itself off of the first,
sending her mind spinning and her body out of her control. She held on to him
as if she were going to be spun off into space if she didn�t, and she could see
it was the same for him. His knuckles were white as he held on to her hips and
rode out his own orgasm, his entire body moving with the convulsions of his
cock inside of her.

When they had both come back to earth, neither of them
moved. She could see that he clearly wanted to slump to the bed next to her in
exhaustion, but he stayed where he was, his clear blue eyes locked with her own
darkened brown orbs. No word was spoken. It was as if they had reached a silent
consensus not to ruin the moment by meaningless words. They were beyond words
now. Things would never be the same between them, and they both knew it. This
was no frenzied coupling that could be blamed upon stress and too much to
drink. His eyes were clear. He knew exactly what he had done and so did she.
Thousands of lives were changed in that moment as they stared at one another,
but none quite like this. Enemies, allies, assassin, saviour,
sociopath, caregiver, terrorist, agent, the titles went on and on. They were
complete opposites in every way, and yet at this life changing moment, they
were the same. They were as close if not closer than two people could ever get.
Their bodies had been and still were joined and now their souls were inexorably
linked as well.

�Sydney, I�� her
lips to his mouth shushed him. She wasn�t ready for words. She just accepted
him into her arms and together they lay; enemies side by side in an intimate
embrace, neither of them feeling any worry whatsoever that the other might try
and harm them. They were safe in each other�s arms.

**

They dressed quietly, neither one wanting to break the
spell. It wasn�t really Sark�s fault when it was broken,
although she would later blame him for it just for the sake of blaming someone.
�Damn it,� she murmured softly under her breath, trying to zip her dress back
up. �Uh Sark? Could you zip me please?� she asked hesitantly when she
found she couldn�t do it on her own. She hadn�t wanted to ask, it seemed
too�domestic of a thing to ask him. She had embarrassed herself, but it would
have been even more embarrassing to go back out into the party-if it was still
going on, god how she hoped it was still going on-with an unzipped dress.

�Of course,� Sark said after he had
tucked in his shirt and zipped up his pants, trying his best to smooth wrinkles
out of both. He moved silently behind her, moving his fingers lightly over her
bare back before grabbing the zipper and pulling. He got about halfway before
he stopped. �Bloody hell,� he murmured under his breath. �It�s stuck.�

�It�s what?� Sydney
exclaimed, her eyes going wide and her hands behind her to bat his fingers away
so she could attempt to do it herself anyway. �Don�t touch. You�ll break it,�
she hissed.

�I think it�s already broken, Sydney
dear,� Sark murmured, trying to sound apologetic.

�Damn it, Sark I can�t go out like
this!� She gestured wildly to her open dress. It was tight enough and zipped up
enough to stay up, probably, but it was clearly open wide where it wasn�t
zipped and showing a good deal of pale skin and the back of her bra. �Sark,�
she pleaded, sounding desperate. �Do something! You broke it, fix it!�

�I can�t say I�ve had much experience in designing women�s
clothing, but the zipper looks well and truly broken, Sydney.
I�m sorry.� Sydney was just about
to launch into a rampage when she felt something smooth and warm slide over her
arms. She looked down and saw that he had covered her with his abandoned tux
jacket. �This is the best I can do. If anyone asks, just say you got cold and
some gentleman kindly offered you the use of his jacket,� he said, moving in
her line of sight with a small smile.

�Some kind gentleman, huh?� She
looked at him shrewdly. �Nope, I�m not seeing it. All I see is you, with a
clearly obvious gun at your hip. What are you going to do about that, Sark?�

Sark looked down at the now visible
gun and shrugged. �It wouldn�t be the first time. And if anyone gives me hell
about it, I can just shoot them. Only kidding, love,� he hastened to add at her
pointed look.

�You better be,� Sydney murmured, reaching down to button
the few short buttons of the tux jacket, twirling a little as she experimented
with the feel of the tails bouncing off of her legs. �I suppose this will have
to do.� She looked at him and pursed her lips in a thoughtful frown. �Your vest
should help a little.�

He nodded slowly, grabbing the vest and putting it on. She
was right. Then, awkwardness set in. Gazes that had once been locked on one
anther�s faces now darted about the room, looking at anything and everything
but the other person. Sark tilted his head in amusement
to see a print of Salvatore Dali�s �Persistence of Memory� on an opposite wall.
He hadn�t even noticed it was there before now. As he looked over the images of
the melting clocks he couldn�t help but take some meaning from them. Time had
stopped just for them tonight. The world had stopped turning and mere moments
were stretched out for hours. This had been one such moment. He didn�t know if
they would ever get another, but he hoped so. He would fight for those moments
if they were each like this. But for now, the moment had ended. The world had
begun to turn again, and the moments were speeding by in an ever increasing
hurry.

�You should go, Sydney.
No doubt you�ve got a partner out there wondering where you went.� A horrid thought
occurred to him. �You didn�t�you weren�t being recorded this entire time�were
you?� He didn�t quite know if he would mind if she had been, but he knew she
would.

She shook her head, unbelievably thankful the party had been
too noisy for effective radio communication and therefore she had just turned
it off. If Dixon had heard all of
that�she didn�t want to think about that. �Thank you for the coat,� she said
softly, meeting his eyes again.

�Don�t worry about it. I�m sure you�ll take good care of it.
You will, won�t you?�

Sydney laughed.
�What�s wrong? Worried that I might ceremoniously burn it when I get home?�

�Something like that,� he murmured.

Sydney just
laughed some more, the tension between them fading once again. They might have
been on opposite sides of the line that supposedly divided good and evil, but
for now that didn�t matter. They had met in the middle and neither one wanted
to turn back now. Her laughter subsided and she grew serious. �What was this to
you, Sark?� She wanted to ask �Just sex or something more?� but she didn�t dare.

Sark respected her intelligence by
answering her question directly and not pretending he didn�t know what she
meant. �A night of passion and fire; further proof that
you�re one hell of a woman, Sydney.�

Sydney nodded at
the compliment, but wasn�t quite satisfied with the answer. �And is this going
to happen again?� she asked hesitantly, �or are we going to go back to the
status quo of trying to kill each other?�

�I�m not going to kill you, Sydney,� he murmured softly in
answer. �And I�m not�averse to seeing you again in these circumstances.�

�I�m not averse to seeing you again either, Sark,�
she admitted, damning herself in the process. She forced herself not to think
upon the reactions of her family and friends if they should find out what she
had done�what she was doing with Sark.
This was her choice. Not theirs. In a decisive gesture to prove her resolve,
she reached over to tie his bowtie for him gently. �There. You�re fit for high
society again,� she teased with a short laugh. �Well, except for the lack of
jacket, but I kind of like that look on you.�

Sark smiled, his blue eyes twinkling
with mischief and slowly smoldering desire. �And I like the way my jacket looks
on you.�

�I knew it,� she asserted, playfully punching him on the
shoulder. �You broke my zipper on purpose just to get me to wear your jacket
home, didn�t you? Admit it, Sark. I�ve seen through your
schemes.�

�I neither admit nor deny anything,� he said, not bothering
to hide a smug grin. He reached out to clasp her hand in his and brought it up
to his lips to kiss. �Until we meet again, Agent Bristow.�

�Likewise, Mr. Sark,� Sydney
responded with a grin, knowing they would. She was still smiling when she
rejoined Dixon in the van out
front, easily deflecting his comments about the jacket as she brought it to her
face and breathed in deep. It smelled of him and she knew then and there that
there was no way she was giving it back.

The End
- 1
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Moments in Time