Hi, y'all! Just so you know, this is the sequel to my other story, Blind Date. Make sure you've read that first, or this story will not make any sense. This story is G/PG rated, and the plot for this story and for Blind Date veered off from the actual TV show somewhere after...um, the sixth episode, second season? I think. Something like that, cause Sark never joined up with Sloane, and Sydney and Vaughn are NOT going out or anything like that. Any characters you recognize are not mine, and won't ever be. But people like Rowena or anyone else I make up belongs to me. Oh, yeah, if you wanna archive this, be my guest. Just don't mess with it at all, and tell me where you're going to put it first.

Now enjoy!

Chapter one

'It's been six months now,' mused Sydney in her head, 'and I still think of him every day.'

She was thinking of Sark. After their last meeting in the temporary CIA cell, she had not dared to ask to see him. He had not requested to see her either, so any friendship they might have had, or anything... else... was over. Sydney fought the sadness that insisted on rearing its head again.

"Sydney? Are you with us?" a voice interrupted her reverie.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Sloane, what did you say?" she forced her tone to be pleasant.

"I was saying, I'm sending you on an op in Washington. A man named Simon Frank, a political analyst, lives in the suburbs of Seattle. Here's the address-" he slid a paper to her, which she quickly memorized the contents of, "-where you will break into his computer lab in his basement, hack into his server and copy the hard drive. Then you will erase all the information on his computer."

Marshall stood. "You won't need any cool disguised gadgets for this op," he said, sounding a little disappointed, "since you won't be going to a party or anything. Um, I have a hacking thingie here, you just set it on the top of the tower and it'll get you past any passwords or security measures he might have... um, oh! And this, this is cool. After you're done getting the hard drive, stick this disk in and-" here he made an exploding gesture with his hands "- presto! It has a virus that will automatically delete any information left, and even better, it reacts with the software and the hardware. So, you just plug it in and the insides'll melt. Cool, huh?"

Sydney nodded absently. She was sure Vaughn would have a fake disk for her to give to Sloane. "Why do we need a copy of this man's hard drive? What does he have?"

Sloane replied, "He collected the locations of certain political figure's hidden facilities- libraries of documents and the like. Obviously this could be used for harm in the hands of the wrong people. You're leaving in three weeks."

"Three weeks?" she asked, confused. "Usually you send me on a mission only hours after you debrief me."

"Um, I... uh, I haven't had time, exactly to make the, uh, the virus. And Mr. Sloane had already called you before I had a chance to tell him that... so, yeah..." Marshall trailed off, obviously embarrassed.

"In the meantime, Sydney," Sloane continued, "I expect you to research the area and find exactly where this man lives. I want you to get in and out of there as quickly as possible. You'll have to drive up there. I trust that will not be a problem?"

"No problem," she assured him. "Is there anything else you want me to do in the meantime?"

"No. You may go now, if you want."

Without another word, Sydney nodded at Sloane and left.

* * *

Sark laid quietly on his bed. He had already exhausted himself doing exercises, and there were no decent books to read. If there were, at least, no one would bring any to him. All that was left was his mind, and he traveled through it now.

After six months of contemplation, he decided that Sydney wasn't responsible for getting him in prison. Not that it mattered-he was still in this cell, with little chance of ever seeing daylight again. He wished he could see Sydney again, but that would put her in danger.

Suddenly he got an idea. He walked over to the front of his cell and looked straight at the guard, disconcerting him with his bright blue eyes.

"What do you want, Sark?" the guard growled nastily. It was always this way. Sark had found out the guard's name was Keith. He called him over to the bars of his cell.

"I- I can't take it anymore," Sark started. "This life- it's just not worth it. I don't want to sit around in this cell any longer."

Keith guffawed. "Well, Sark, if you think you're getting out of here just because you're depressed, you got another think coming. You are staying in that cell till you rot."

Sark sighed. "That's not what I mean. I- I want to poison myself. I don't want to live anymore."

The guard's face lit up with understanding. "You mean you want to kill yourself?"

Sark sighed again. "Yes."

Keith rubbed his hands in nervous anticipation. "What do you need?"

Sark told Keith exactly the amount of chemicals to add to his drink. It was a unique blend of a few chemicals, and he seldom used it on other people, only when absolutely necessary. But sometimes it was necessary, such as a time as now. He couldn't take this life any longer; it had to be done.

Keith considered this request. He had never liked the prisoner he had to guard. He had heard stories, read things, and this man was not someone with a pleasant past, what was known of his past anyway. He also didn't like the insolence Sark had when talking to him. He made a decision.

"You'll have your poison by next week. That's only one more week I'll have to guard you."

Sark lowered his head. "Thank you."

Keith laughed, a harsh, cruel laugh. "Believe me, it's no problem."

Sark's only answer was to turn to lie again on his bunk.

* * *

Sydney's research didn't go very fast. Simon Frank lived among many confusing and twisting streets of suburbia. By Friday of that week, Sydney was thoroughly exasperated and ready to throw the various maps she had pulled out across the room. In fact, just as she hurled the map book, Will walked in, the book narrowly missing his head.

"Whoa!" he protested. "What did I do?"

"Nothing," Sydney sighed. "Just Sloane has this research thing he wants me to do, and I have no clue what I'm doing."

"I might be able to help," Will offered. "The CIA has given me full access to stuff, so I have the resources. What do you need?"

She handed him the address. He glanced at it, shuffled through the pile of atlases on the couch, then picked one up. He flipped through it, then pointed out a road to Sydney. "There you go."

"How did you find that so fast?" Sydney asked, amazed. "I've been working on this for days and you figure it out in five seconds! Not fair!"

"Such are the ways of the universe," he shrugged, "and it helps that I had to do some research on some internet security company around there called FutureWorks a few weeks ago. Do you have any brownie mix? I feel like eating brownies."

"Yeah, it's in the pantry, top shelf behind the chips. But thank you SO much. You have no idea how much this helps."

"So what's this for? And where are the eggs, your refrigerator light is out and I can't see anything."

"You know where the light bulbs are. You change it. The eggs are probably somewhere in there, I know we have some. Anyway, Sloane is sending me there to break into some guy's house and steal a list of addresses off his computer, then wipe out the computer. I have about two weeks until that op, though."

"Why aren't you going right away?"

"Marshall didn't finish making the virus for his computer yet, so I can't go till that's done. Can I lick off the spoon when you finish mixing? Pretty please?"

"Okay, but I get the bowl. I suppose the CIA just wants you to give SD-6 a fake disk and give them the real one?"

"You got it. They're making the disk right now. Vaughn said he'll set up a meeting with me by next Monday. Oh, by the way, don't forget to take the baking stone out before heating the oven."

"I remembered to take it out. So what's going on with Sark? I haven't heard you talk about him trying to kill you lately."

"And I never will again." Sydney forced her voice to remain steady. "About six months ago he was captured and put in the CIA prison. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"You should be! I would have liked to have known about that little bit."

After the brownies baked, they sat in the courtyard behind Sydney's house and snacked on the steaming chocolate squares. The brownies were delicious...

A/N: Hi! I bet you're all glad I finally got this sequel worked on. Well, just review and that will inspire me to write more chapters. Actually, I'm very inspired already- I'm writing bits and pieces of the sequel to this story. I'm sure it helps that I'm not entirely sure on how the plot of this story's going to go. We'll see though, won't we! But I still need reviews. (a note to all you students out there, and I know most of you are: I wonder if we could use our reviews as extra credit for creative writing? I mean, won't your teacher just be so pleased if you did a self-assigned writing assignment and got feedback on it? Well, just do us all a favor and review my story, and all review yours.)

More chapters are (hopefully!) coming soon. In the meantime, I have a suggestion/challenge and a request. Firstly, who can do a really good Alias/Phantom of the Opera crossover? I challenge someone to write one. Secondly, I need a co-writer for a S/S story I'm writing. Email me if you're interested and I'll send you the one chapter I've written. (veritas0088 )