Title: Deceive

Author: Serenity Sea

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: S3, through AML

Distribution: If you want it, you can have it, just let me know where it's going.

Disclaimer: I can't believe I honestly have to do this. No, I don't own Sark, Syd or Simon. As much as I would love to. Honestly.

Dedicated to: All Sarkney shippers. And a user, "eve" at the SD-1 boards, for inspiring me with her comment about Sark knowing when Sydney was in the room.

And I apologize for the lack of verbage here, but I don't remember Sark's dialogue and the transcript isn't out yet. So I'm hedging around it-- noticeably.

Without any further ado, let the chaos continue.

* * *

"All right then, send him up."

Simon closed the phone and smiled briefly at her, perhaps trying to make up for what he'd done before. Holding her at knife-point. Very nice way to kill the mood, that. And why she had said "Now I remember why I left in the first place," she didn't know, but it just *felt* right.

There was a knock on the door and she automatically turned away. Normally, she would have covertly taken notice of just whom Simon was working with, but she couldn't afford to let someone she knew blow her cover. And these days, it could be someone who knew her--and she wouldn't find out until it was too late.

The guest was shown in and she swore she felt eyes burning into her head. Then the person started speaking and her hand stilled over the op-tech papers.

* * *

When he'd entered the room, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. 'Sydney.' He started explaining the last minute plans while stealthily looking for her. She could be hiding in the closet, hanging from the ceiling, back behind a curtain, underneath the--oh hello. Long brown hair, black leather that fit her *quite* well, trying very hard to blend in with her surroundings while not arousing the suspicions of her teammates. yeah, that was her, all right.

He smiled disarmingly, halting Simon in mid-sentence. "Si. I heard you'd acquired a new member to your group. If it's that bewitching creature in black over there, might I perhaps wrangle an introduction?"

The light in the other man's eyes spelled danger, but he knew who was the employer here and knew he had no choice.

"Of course," Simon replied. "Babe?"

* * *

She froze.

What was he doing?

"--an introduction?"

That conniving, sick, twisted, son of a--didn't he know what she was trying to do here?! He was about to get them both killed!

"Of course. Babe?"

Odds were, if her cover wasn't blown to smithereens yet, it was going to be now. She turned and felt the power of that ice-blue gaze ram into her with the force of bullets being caught with a Kevlar-lined vest. 'Damn,' she thought, hoping to communicate to Sark with her eyes what hopefully Simon, the ever-observant spy, would not pick up on.

"What's up?" She automatically moved closer to Simon.

He, though a bit confused about her change in behavior, settled a hand on the curve of her waist. "Babe, this is our employer, Mr. Sark. Sark, this is Julia. She's doing the security for us."

Sark's eyes held a mischievous light in them as he sent an all-too familiar smirk her way. "Really. Did she pass the induction?"

Simon snorted defensively. "I'll say. She bloody dove eight flights into a pool to escape the cops. Brought back a pretty trinket, too."

"So. There've been no problems with, ah, Julia?"

Was it her imagination, or did he place emphasis on her name?

"Well." Simon had the grace to look embarrassed. "There was a bit of a mix-up before. But it's been all cleared up, now, right Babe?"

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "Whatever."

The smirk on Sark's face grew. "Might I have a word?" She glanced at Simon for help, hoping that she didn't look desperate while the last thing she wanted to do was meet with Sark and have some irrational promise drawn out against her will. He met her eyes expressionlessly and made no attempt to stop them. "This will just take a minute."

* * *

He gently escorted her outside the room, until they had walked a safe distance and were hovering outside the doorway of what she hoped was an unoccupied room.

"Well, look what we have here. What are you doing, Sydney?" His voice was almost musical in the request and it was all she could do not to give up the information.

"What does it *look* like I'm doing, Sark?"

He pretended to consider it, all the while keeping his eyes trained on hers. "I assume you are trying to infiltrate the Covenant, to regain some of your memories. But it won't work. Walker's just a offshoot of the hand of that leads to the center of the organization. He has no idea who he's working for."

"Oh," she thrust her body forward defensively, not noticing how closely they were standing, "and I suppose *you* do, right?"

His brow rose. "I might." Sark let his gaze descend from her face to travel down the length of her body appreciatively. "Though I must say, *Julia*," he sneered, "you've done yourself a disservice this time. If you'd wanted to get on the inside, all you had to do was ask. Instead, you're playing love-slave to some low-class rag who could never make you happy."

She looked a bit bewildered. "Why?--I don't need him to be happy. I need my *mind* back. I can't even believe we're having this conversation. Honestly-- "

Quicker than a flash, Sark pulled out his gun and put it to her head, using his body to push her against the door. "I swear to you, I will pull this trigger if you don't tell me what in the *hell* you're doing, woman! This is not time to play games. Low-class or not, that man will *kill* anyone who double-crosses him."

Despite being held at gunpoint, she had enough guts to reply, "Like you wouldn't." Sydney even went so far as to let her body sag lightly against his. "God, what is this? 'Put a weapon near my face and demand I spill my guts' night?"

He looked abashed and reluctantly put the gun away. Then the rest of her statement hit him. "What are you talking about? Did he try something tonight?"

"Why do you *care*, Sark? You were about to do the same thing."

"I might not have pulled the trigger."

"You might have."

Sark sighed and she tried not squirm as she felt his chest rise and fall against her. Squirming would be very bad at this point. She knew that. So why did she have the urge to? "Come now, Sydney. You know I respect you. What a waste of a life that would be. Capture you, yes. Extract damnable promises from you, possibly. But kill you? No. I might wound you, though."

"Why don't you want me to go on this mission, Sark? If you have that much appreciation for my skills as an agent, then you know I'll get the job done. You also know I can't pull out of it just yet, so for at least a short time, you'll have what you want."

"I didn't know that, actually. But thank you for informing me."

Sydney let her head fall back against the door, inadvertently moving closer to him. Rule number one: Never let them know your mission. You may as well sign up for an interrogation after that.

"Well. Possibly we could work something out that would benefit us both and somehow spare your life for another day."

Before Sydney could respond, his eyes widened fractionally and she was completely unprepared for Sark's warm lips on hers.

* * *

Sark told himself that pushing her more intimately against the door and setting about kissing the daylights out of her was just because he wanted her to live. That somehow, it would all filter out into a score for his overall plan. That by letting Simon see them in the doorway, and thereby risking the man's wrath, and possibly his life, she would hopefully keep from killing him personally.

He felt her buck against him in protest and, using his body, forcefully reminded her who was in charge here. Never mind the things her lips were doing to him. Ignore the fact that she was going to be aware of just what affect she had on him very shortly if they had to keep this up. Besides the fact that this was one of the oldest tricks in the book, he hoped she wouldn't doubt his worth as an agent. After all, it wasn't his fault Simon had a jealous streak a mile long and--

"Ahem." They pulled apart, a bit guiltily, to meet the seething emerald gaze of Simon. "Is there something you'd like to tell me, Julia?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but he nudged his leg in between hers and she abruptly shut her mouth.

"Not really." Sark answered for her, hoping Simon would get the message. 'She's mine. Now back the hell off.'

"Well." He sniffed, looking wounded. "We have to leave in less than five minutes if you want this mission to be a success. Maybe you can wrap this up and--"

"--I am sure, Simon," he enunciated each word with icy precision, "that it will be a success whether Julia remains occupied for a few more moments or not. I'll drive her to the drop-off. We'll meet you there." His tone left no room for discussion.

"Very well." He stalked off back to the operations room, no doubt to lick his wounds.

Sydney was momentarily thrown to see the freezing look in his sapphire eyes when, just seconds before, they had been white-hot with fire. She took a shaky breath. "You want to tell me what that was all about?"

He noted she did not object to the kissing that had transpired, merely the change in plans. "That was me, saving your life. *sweetheart*." The jeer in his last word had her getting ready to slap him. Sark grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. "Now. Apparently, we've a bit of a relationship to fabricate. What are your thoughts on that?"

* * *