Her red dress was cut too short and too low, leaving only a few things to the imagination of anyone in the overpriced club. The matching wig made her impossible to miss, as if anyone could overlook her to begin with, which he assumed was impossible. It was supposed to be a simple op. In and out. And then he spotted her, and everything changed- again. Like it did every time he was near her. He tried to refocus on the mission to no avail. He needs to be near her. He glanced at her again, oozing confidence he somehow knew she didn't feel in that dress. She sent out a message, look but don't touch with a certain power that only she could posses and pull off femininly. But he knew there were few things that were feminine about her. And he also knew she hated these Aliases.

She pulled out the gun, readying herself for the least favorite part of her job. This is for the best. He's the bad guy. Not me. It was her silent mantra. The one she repeated to herself like a sinners prayer right before she went in for the kill. Maybe that scared her worse than the actual killing. Is there any kind of redemption for people like me? She jerked the chair around, trying to refocus on the mission, finding that her mark had already been disposed of for her. She was momentarilly relieved, then instantly her guard went back up. Only seconds too late.

Someone cleared their throat from behind her and the hairs on her neck stood on end. "Losing your edge Sydney?" She cringed at the sound of his voice, whirling around to face him. She couldn't hold back the words as they came tumbling out of her mouth. "It's Agent Bristow." She mentally slapped herself for giving him the upper hand and not coming up with a better retort. Maybe she was losing her edge, or maybe it was just the smell of his cologne filling the room. Curve, she thought to herself as she placed the fragrence. Her favorite. As if sensing her thoughts he smirked while he let out a chuckle. "Well Agent Bristow," he began, over stressing the name she had insisted many times he use while addressing her. "you still have that fire." She couldn't help but roll her eyes at him as the fire of her agitation flamed within her. He's infuriatingly impossible.

By the time she refocused her gaze on him, he was invading her personal bubble, almost knocking the air out of her. She wanted him to move, but she also wanted what she came for. She knew he had the artifact, although she didn't know what it was that she had come to retrieve, she was sure that he had it. And was probably informed about what it was before I even knew that there was an op. "Give it to me Sark." His perfectly shaped eyebrow rose and his baby blue eyes darkened with something she'd rather not name. It was his breathy reply that drove her nearly insane. "As you wish..." Before she could comprehend it, his mouth was heatedly claiming hers, tasting and memorizing every inch of her lips, both of them knowing they may never be like this again.

He slammed her violently into the wall behind them, making her gasp allowing him access to her mouth. Her smell was intoxicating, her taste addicting. He had her arms pinned to her sides, letting her know who was in charge so that she couldn't refuse him- not this time. Unwillingly, she pushed her hips into his, feeling his need for her increasing. He pulled back, allowing his mouth to meld to the soft flesh of her neck, knowing it would leave a mark for sure. Something about knowing that it was him who was marking her, when she looked in the mirror to do her make-up in the morning it would be him she thought about, and the fact that she was, at the moment, a more than willing participant made his need for her increase. It was no longer a simple want as it had been, now it was a need for her.

He let his hands drift down to her hips, and she knew for sure there would be a bruise where his ever attentive hands were sweeping over her flesh. He released her arms to pull her closer to him, making her grind into him again, this time willingly, causing him to moan out her name. Nothing like Vaughn. He's always so gentle... Maybe I needed Sark all along... And the way he says my name... This thought was enough to sober her from the high that she was on and he was shoved away. Her eyes were aprehensive and guarded as usual but they held their fair share of confusion and want. Want for him, and him alone. Even if it was only in this moment, it was only him.

She was breathing heavily now, out of breath, turned on, pissed off, and positive he was in the same condition as she was. He stood there for a long while, just looking at her, watching her like he had done countless times. Like he was searching for something. Finally he moved to the side, no longer blocking her exit. She began to walk out when his voice stopped her. "Aren't you forgetting something Miss Bristow?" She turned slowly and cautiosly towards him and accepted the bag that he handed to her, allowing his fingers to brsh over her knuckles one last time before she was gone.