She sighed, glanced over to where her partner was sitting, his head bouncing slightly to the beat of whatever music he was listening to, and returned her gaze studiously to the file in front of her. She'd done a lot of difficult things since that unfortunate day she'd gone to work for SD-6, but for some reason her mind was refusing to cooperate this time. Maybe it was time to take a break, she decided, shoving the papers aside. She went to get a bottle of water from her bag, and noticed Weiss staring at her when she returned.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Syd," he replied, removing his headphones. "I just don't think I've ever seen you acting so frustrated at the beginning of a mission before."

"You're right," she said, sighing again and slouching back into her seat. "It's just...I speak half a dozen languages pretty well, and enough to get by in several more. But Georgian is not one of them. Don't you think that out of the entire CIA they could have found at least one person who speaks it already? This mission doesn't really need us, and I hate going in somewhere knowing I won't be able to communicate."

"It'll be fine. We know Meskhishvili speaks English, and for the rest, we can get by with your Russian. Not a problem."

"It will be when we can't even read the street signs to find our meet point," Sydney pointed out. Remembering that one of the reasons she'd initially asked to be paired with Weiss was that, for all his joking, he tended to pull his own weight when it counted, she shoved the file back in its manila envelope and tossed the whole thing at him. "It's your turn to try and learn this damn alphabet; my brain can't take one more little curlicue without exploding."

"Sure thing, Syd. You haven't stopped working since we left LA; why don't you take a nap? I'll have it all figured out by the time you wake up."

"That sounds...great, actually. Thanks." She gave him a grateful smile and curled up on seats that were only marginally less uncomfortable than a commercial airline's.

Despite her weariness, sleep didn't come easily. Her mind wouldn't stop replaying the few phrases she'd learned while images of the unfamiliar alphabet floated past. Some small part of her pointed out that she ought to be relieved to have a mission where her most pressing worry was communication, for a change, but she was too tired for that thought to be much help.

Eventually she managed to drift off, however, and the next thing she knew Weiss was shaking her awake. "Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"A few hours. We should be landing soon."

"Oh, Weiss, I'm sorry. I meant to just take a nap, and go back to studying."

"Don't worry about it; we're covered," he told her with a cheerful grin. "Besides, it's a pretty straightforward mission. You could do this in your sleep--with me along too, how can we go wrong?"

She laughed. "You do realise you just jinxed us, right?"

"I'm not scared. Bring it on."

She shook her head in amusement as she began gathering her things. Having Weiss as her regular partner was certainly a change; she didn't trust him any less than she had her previous partners, but his cheerfulness actually helped make their missions almost fun--even the boring ones. It probably helped that she knew him well enough to realise that underneath the humour was a perfectly competent agent who took their jobs seriously; what made him different was that Weiss just didn't see any reason why saving the country had to mean they couldn't enjoy themselves.

In the current case, saving the country meant sending the two of them to T'bilisi to meet with Sandro Meskhishvili, an arms dealer who claimed to have a means of triggering targeted earthquakes that he was offering to the highest bidder. They were going in as potential buyers in an effort to learn the precise location where the weapon was being held, so the CIA could raid the facility and, ideally, take out not just the earthquake generator but Meskhishvili's organisation as well. This was strictly a reconnaissance mission; they'd been ordered to promise whatever they had to in order to secure the purchase, but not to take any actions towards retrieving the weapon on their own. All in all, she couldn't help feeling that she and Weiss were wasted on this assignment, despite her efforts to convince herself that it would be nice, executing an entire mission without having to worry about brushes with death. Assuming, of course, that all went according to plan.

Their fake documents passed inspection without difficulty, and not long after landing Sydney and Weiss had located their hired driver and were on their way into the city. As soon as they'd checked in to their guesthouse, they scanned their rooms for bugs, then met in Sydney's room to go over the plan one last time. The meet was scheduled for the following day at the Desertirebis market, and since they had the time they decided to do a little recon of the area that afternoon.

Their memories of the map they'd spent so much of the flight studying proved accurate enough to get them to the market with little difficulty. When Weiss made a comment about her earlier fears, Sydney stuck her tongue out at him, then returned his grin, relieved to have been wrong.

They wandered the market for a while, noting the layout of the stalls and possible escape routes, before trying to pinpoint the exact meet location. They were to use a certain code phrase at a particular stall, upon which the vendor would take them to Meskhishvili. They were observing from a couple of rows away when Sydney froze.

"What's the matter?"

"See that woman who just walked up to our contact?"

Weiss glanced over. "Yeah. What about her?"

"That's Mom."

"What?" He looked again, but she was facing away from them. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! It may be years since I saw her, but while she was in that cell I spent hours studying her. I know the way she stands, how she moves. That's Derevko, I'm certain of it."

"Okay. Wow. This can't be good. Clearly, we can't let Derevko get her hands on that weapon, but frankly, Syd, I don't think just the two of us can take her."

"You're right," Sydney agreed, "which is why you're going to keep an eye on her while I call for reinforcements."

"Why do I--"

"There's no time to argue, Eric, he's taking her behind the stall!"

"Great," he muttered, paying for a piece of the fruit they'd been looking at as cover before slipping through the throng, trying to keep an eye on Derevko while simultaneously staying out of her line of sight.

As he left, Sydney was already hitting the speed dial on her cell phone. She didn't trust the CIA with this development, but even though her dad had left on an assignment a few days before she had, she knew he'd want to know.

"Dad, it's me," she said as soon as he answered.

"I'm in the middle of something; can this wait?"

"No, it can't. I just saw Mom."

A slight pause was the only sign that the news meant anything more to him than a weather report. "Where?"

"In T'bilisi. We were doing some recon, saw her talking to our contact. I've got Weiss tailing her now, I don't think she saw us."

"Keep her in sight, Sydney, but do not confront her. I'm on my way."

Sydney couldn't believe what he was asking. "We can't expect to follow her forever and not get made! She's too good."

"I'm in Moscow; it'll only take me a couple of hours. You'll be fine."

She snorted. "Yeah. 'Cause we've had so much luck keeping track of Mom in the past." She hung up without bothering to say goodbye, set the phone to vibrate, and went to tell Weiss the good news.

He seemed just as thrilled with the prospect of tailing Irina Derevko through an unfamiliar city for an unknown length of time as she was, though he perked up a bit when she said her father would be joining them.

"She's still in there?"

"Unless she's got a way to turn invisible," he confirmed. "I took a quick look around; the other sides of the stall are wood, with no sign of a door. She'll have to come out the way she went in, and the only one to set foot through that curtain since they went in was our contact."

They waited about half an hour before Irina reappeared. It was difficult to keep her in sight as she threaded her way through the market, but soon enough she led them into one of the surrounding streets. She led them across the Mtkvari and through the city for quite some time before finally entering what looked like a small residential building.

They turned to look at each other. "Now what?"

"We just need to keep her in sight; I don't think Dad cares if we don't find out what she's up to. So since there's only two of us, I think it makes more sense to worry about whether she leaves the building than following her inside and hoping there's a chance to eavesdrop."

"Agreed. But there are only two of us, and unless I'm mistaken, that building has the traditional four sides," he shot back.

"Yeah, yeah." She looked around, hoping for inspiration to strike. "How about this: you stand by the front left corner, and I'll be at the back right. We'll each keep an eye on two sides of the building, and call if we see Derevko."

Weiss thought for a moment. "Yeah, that could work. Don't forget the roofs, too."

"Right. Let's hope this works."

Sydney got into position and settled down to wait. There weren't any good options for cover, but it wasn't like they had much choice. After a while, she found her mind wandering. She wished she could just call Eric to pass the time, but chat would be as dangerous a distraction as boredom, so she refrained. By the time she felt her phone go off in her pocket, she was more than ready to resume chasing her mother through the city. Stakeouts were never really her thing anyway.

"Yeah?"

"Either we're sneakier than we thought, or Derevko's not as good as she would have everyone believe."

"How's that?"

"She's just walking out the front door. No attempt to be stealthy or anything, Syd. I feel cheated."

She laughed. "Which way is she going?"

"Turned right. She's passing the intersection with your street now. Should be safe to come up here."

"I'll meet you on the corner, then. Don't let her get out of sight!"

"You know, I've been doing this as long as you have, Bristow," he pointed out. She laughed again, then hung up as she caught sight of him.

This time Derevko led them to a major street, where she hailed a cab. Sydney and Weiss exchanged surprised glances, then rushed to grab another for themselves.

"Follow that taxi, but don't get too close!" she ordered, immediately repeating herself in Russian. To her relief, the driver clearly understood one of the two, since he shrugged and pulled into traffic.

Before long it became all too clear that Derevko was heading out of the city completely. They'd left T'bilisi behind by the time Sydney received another call.

"Where are you?" her father asked without preamble.

"She got in a cab about forty minutes ago. Weiss and I are still following, but she's left town. Our driver said the road we're on leads to Mtskheta, but we won't know if she's stopping there or just passing through for another fifteen minutes or so."

"Noted. I've rented a car and am on my way. Call me once you have a better idea of where she's headed."

"I will. And, Dad?"

"Yes, Sydney?"

"Thanks." She snapped the phone shut, saving him from having to respond.

"Well? Where is he?" Weiss asked, drawing her mind from the insanity that was her family.

"He's here. Once she stops somewhere, we're to call him back with better directions."

He nodded acknowledgment, and they resumed silently urging her mother to stop already so they could resume tailing her on foot. It was so much harder to keep track of someone when you were watching a car, rather than the person themself. Though at least with the way everyone seemed to drive here, it would be harder for Irina to be certain that their cab was actually following her, no matter what extreme maneuvers became necessary.

To Sydney's relief, her mother did indeed get out in Mtskheta. They noted what building she entered, then had their driver pull around the next corner to let them out. While Weiss was paying him, she called her father back and gave him directions. They were still watching when he arrived and joined them, but he'd only been there a few minutes before the door opened and Derevko emerged. They automatically spread out to follow. Sydney was surprised to see that, rather than head somewhere specific, her mother appeared to just wander aimlessly. When she left the road and entered an old churchyard, Sydney's father motioned for her and Weiss to work their way in front of her while he blocked her escape. Once she and Weiss were in place, they drew their weapons and she signalled that they were ready.

"Hands in the air," her father ordered in a voice that was hard even for him.

Derevko stopped walking and obeyed slowly, as if it made no difference that she suddenly had three guns trained on her. Sydney would have sworn she even almost smiled as she said calmly, "Hello, Jack. It's been a long time. I've missed you."

Sydney risked taking her eyes off her long enough to glance over Irina's shoulder. Her father's jaw was clenched in that extra-tight way that told those who knew him well that he was struggling not to react. She felt her own expression harden as she returned her gaze to her mother.

"And Agent Weiss. How's your neck?"

This time Sydney's eyes were drawn to her right as her partner's hand automatically flew to cover the place where Derevko had one shot him. He seemed to realise what he'd done quickly and lowered it again. "Oh, just fine. No thanks to you."

At last her mother looked in her direction. "Sydney. It's good to see you again."

"I can't say the same. At least, not until we have you back in that cell. And this time we're not going to be foolish enough to trust you. The CIA can get by without your help, so you can forget about escaping again." Sydney was surprised at how angry she felt, seeing her mother again after all these years. She'd thought she had dealt with everything long ago, but now the sense of betrayal was back full force.

Irina, of course, didn't say anything in response to that, but simply gave that enigmatic smile of hers that Sydney wanted to wipe off her face. In fact, she was so focused on not doing so that she was completely taken by surprise when an all too familiar voice came from behind her.

"A family reunion. How charming."

She closed her eyes briefly in resignation. Of course Sark would turn up. Of course he'd sneak up behind her. Of course he'd have a gun pointed at her head, whether she could see it or not. Because that was her life.

Weiss pivoted to aim behind her, but though she appreciated the gesture, she knew that if Sark wanted her dead, that wouldn't stop him. Since there was nothing she could do about it, she continued to watch Derevko for any signs of movement.

"Sark," she acknowledged reluctantly. "How did you find us?"

"I didn't; I've been following you since T'bilisi. You really ought to pay more attention to your surroundings."

She and Weiss turned to give each other shamefaced looks. "Okay, so remember what we were talking about before? Apparently I forgot the third option," he admitted.

"Now," Sark continued, "I suggest you put away your weapons before someone gets hurt."

"We still have you outnumbered," her father pointed out calmly. "You're not the one giving the orders here."

"You mean Agent Weiss? Can you really expect him to give you the advantage over Irina and myself? I thought you were smarter than that."

"Oh, no, I don't feel insulted at all, but thanks for caring," Weiss commented lightly, earning a slight smile from Sydney despite the situation.

"What's the matter, Jack? Have you already forgotten how well we can work together once you stop making empty threats?"

"That was one time, Irina. And I'd hardly say the experiment was a success, since we failed to accomplish our goal."

Sydney needed a moment to process the idea; she'd never quite been able to picture her parents actually working together to find her, when her disappearance came so soon after her mother had betrayed them both yet again. Besides, her arm was getting tired; if they didn't start shooting soon, she wasn't certain she'd be able to aim properly. Deciding that there was little chance of that happening, she lowered her weapon. "Can we call this a temporary stalemate and just put the guns away? At least until we figure out what to do next, and who's captured whom, and so on?"

Irina's gaze flicked over her shoulder; since shortly thereafter she saw her father and Weiss slowly point their guns at the ground, she had to assume that glance had been a signal for Sark to comply. Relieved at the chance to relax, however minimally, she holstered her own and took a few steps to one side. Armed or not, having Sark behind her, out of her line of sight, was just plain creepy.

"Okay, so...what now?" She wasn't about to suggest they all go their separate ways, but Sark had a point--they were pretty evenly matched.

"Perhaps we could go somewhere a little less...public, and discuss the situation?" Irina suggested.

"Outdoors," her father insisted. "We're not going into an unfamiliar building chosen by you."

"Very well, Jack. Would someplace near the river be acceptable?"

It wasn't an unreasonable suggestion, so they headed in that direction, each side wary of the other. They managed to find a spot everyone could agree on--isolated from the town, open enough to see anyone who might try to approach. The standoff resumed.

Maybe her parents and Sark could stand in silence all day, waiting for someone to crack, but Sydney couldn't, and she doubted Weiss was doing any better. "What were you doing in T'bilisi?" she finally asked.

"Don't play the fool, Sydney; it doesn't suit you. We were there for the same reason you were, of course. To acquire the earthquake generator."

"You're insane if you think I'm going to let you just walk out of here with that kind of power."

"Sydney, do you really think you could stop me?" her mother replied calmly. Her complete lack of concern just angered Sydney further.

"I've shot you once; don't think I won't do it again if I have to."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Agent Bristow."

"Or what, Sark? You'll shoot me? You never have before, so I doubt you'll start now."

"As it happens, I don't have the device. So unless you plan to arrest me--and I don't recommend you try--all you've done today was waste everyone's time."

"You can't seriously expect us to believe that, Irina."

"No, Jack, I don't. But regardless of what you choose to believe, it remains the truth."

Sydney exchanged looks with her father and Weiss. "Okay, I'll bite," Weiss said. "Why don't you have it, if that's what you came for?"

Derevko barely spared him a glance, directing her answer to Jack instead. "I met with Meskhishvili, fully intending to either buy or steal the device. Unfortunately, he didn't bring it with him, and refused to even consider selling for any amount I could get together quickly. Perhaps the CIA's budget will suit him better."

"And then what? You try to steal it from us instead?"

"That depends entirely on what the CIA intends to do with it."

Sydney decided to risk the truth. "We're to determine the location of the weapon and, if possible, Meskhishvili's labs, then call in a team to take out both."

"You won't succeed," Sark said confidently.

"Oh, really?"

"Even assuming Meskhishvili leads you to his facility, the likelihood of his not having moved his operation elsewhere by the time you can get a CIA team here is nearly non-existent."

"What makes you think the team isn't waiting in T'bilisi already?"

He gave her a scornful look. "If that were the case, we wouldn't be standing here now. You and Agent Weiss would have requested backup rather than trying to tail Irina by yourselves. Instead, you made exactly one phone call, presumably to your father--who, I admit, may have contacted others himself, although once again the fact that the five of us are standing here and conversing more or less civilly indicates otherwise."

There was really nothing she could say to counter that, so she chose to ignore it. "The important thing is that we have trackers. We'll just plant one on Meskhishvili himself and follow him to his new lab, if necessary."

"You'll be scanned when you arrive for the meet. It would be foolish to try."

"Great. So then what do you suggest, Mom, since you know so much?"

"Collaboration," Irina said promptly.

Sydney blinked, caught by surprise, and was relieved to hear Weiss say, "Excuse me?" Her father was looking even more unreadable than usual.

"The situation is simple. You wish to destroy the earthquake generator. I wish to prevent it from falling into any hands but my own, since I don't trust anyone else to wield this kind of power wisely. My attempt to buy it outright was unsuccessful, and I see little chance of acquiring it through other means with the limited resources at hand and in the time frame available. We know who owns it now, but once it leaves Meskhishvili--as seems likely to happen in the next few days--we will have lost that advantage.

"I would rather see the device destroyed than in the hands of a potential enemy. The logical thing to do all around is for the five of us to cooperate, destroy it, and go our separate ways."

"Okay, since I'm the only one here who doesn't routinely break the rules, I'd like to state for the record that the CIA never rescinded the standing order to arrest Derevko and Sark on sight." Everyone turned to look at Weiss, with expressions ranging from Sark's "I dare you to try it" to Jack's "what's your point?" He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just saying."

"Agent Weiss is correct. Even if we don't adopt Irina's plan, it's imperative that the CIA not learn of this encounter."

Sydney had to hide a snicker at the look on her partner's face as he pointed out that he hadn't suggested telling them, but was merely raising the issue. She was probably the only person who knew he was more afraid of her father than just about anyone. It wouldn't surprise her in the least if that "anyone" included both her mother and Sark.

The three of them engaged in a bit of silent communication, Sydney feeling grateful that they'd worked together long enough to make that possible. Sensing that they all seemed to be in agreement--at least, to the extent that clearly none of them could come up with a better plan--she turned back to her mother. "All right. We're in, but if you try to double-cross us--"

"You'll shoot me, yes. You've said that already, Sydney. Stop repeating yourself. Now, when is your meeting with Meskhishvili?"

"Not until tomorrow. Weiss and I were just doing a little recon earlier, which is how we found you."

"He's expecting you both?"

"Of course. Why?"

"Then you'll go in with Sark instead."

"What?" she and Weiss both exclaimed. The sharp glance Sark directed at her mother indicated that he, too, was startled by this announcement. The thought wasn't nearly as entertaining as it ought to have been.

"I'm not giving you a chance to double-cross me, either, and Meskhishvili now knows what I look like, so I can't go in as Sydney. With Sark there, any temptation you may be feeling to lie to me about the outcome of your meeting will be significantly reduced."

"But--"

"It's okay, Syd," Weiss cut in. "I'll stay here with your father. You don't really need me for this, anyway."

The mention of her father called to mind, as it was probably meant to, the fact that if she and Weiss met Meskhishvili as originally planned, he'd be left alone with both her mother and Sark. She was pretty sure she could handle Sark on her own--she'd done so before--but when it came to Irina Derevko, stacking the odds in their favour was generally a good idea. Reluctantly, she agreed, trying to ignore the knowing smirk on Sark's face.

Bastard. He wasn't even pretending not to be enjoying this.

Once they'd officially agreed to work together, it didn't take too much negotiating for them all to agree to return to T'bilisi for the night. Since none of the CIA agents were willing to trust their new...allies, they insisted on all using the rooms Sydney and Weiss had taken that morning, and tried to ignore the bemused expressions on Sark's and Derevko's faces.

By the time the meeting with Meskhishvili rolled around, Sydney was more than ready to escape the atmosphere in that room, even if she had to do so with Sark along. All night long it had been her mother baiting her father; her father snapping at her mother; Sark taunting Weiss just by not doing much of anything, really, except being his usual annoying, enigmatic self. Scary people, she decided, should never be allowed to take that much pleasure in being scary.

When she finally did leave, she felt only a moment's qualm. She didn't really think her mother would try anything, but her father didn't exactly have the best track record when it came to keeping her under control, and to be honest she doubted Weiss would make much of a difference. Then again, it wasn't like she could do anything about the situation, so she forced herself to put it out of her mind and focus on the goal at hand. The walk was mostly conducted in silence, since she at least couldn't think of anything she especially wanted to talk about. Not with Sark, at any rate.

"You can deny the truth all you like, Agent Bristow," he finally said as they approached the market, "yet somehow we always end up working together once more. Would it not be simpler if you just admitted that I'm right, instead of trying to fight it?"

"A handful of missions together over the course of several years is not 'destiny', Sark. You might as well give it a rest, because there's no way in hell I'll come work for you."

"How disappointing, Sydney. Don't you even consider me worth the effort of sabotaging, like you did Sloane? I'm hurt."

"Sloane was a madman who deceived himself almost as often as he deceived others. He didn't want to think I'd betray him, so he didn't. One thing I'll say for you: you're too smart for that. You'd never believe I'd truly changed sides, so I can't help but wonder why you keep asking me to."

"Perhaps I wouldn't. On the other hand, think of all the fun we'd have before you turned on me. You can't deny that we work well together."

Before she could come up with a decent retort, they'd been swept up into the bustle of the market and it was time to get her head in the game. Despite her protests, she and Sark fell into step automatically, as though they'd been working together for years. Not that she'd ever admit that; after all, it meant nothing aside from the fact that they were both very good at what they did.

They headed straight past the food stalls and zeroed in on their target. As they waited for their contact to finish negotiating with a customer, Sydney casually examined the fabrics on display, confident that Sark would be keeping an eye out for potential danger. Once the sale was concluded, the merchant turned to her and said something she didn't grasp. In her best "American tourist" attitude, she smiled brightly and replied, "These are cute, but do you have anything in blue?"

He switched to English. "I believe I have what you're looking for in the back, if you would care to come with me...."

They followed him behind the curtain hanging at the back of the stall, into a cramped area packed with three chairs and a small table. They were scanned and patted down, then their contact went back to his business, leaving them alone with Meskhishvili.

"Mr. Meskhishvili? I'm Simone Williams, and this is my associate, Gary Harrington."

"Call me Sandro. I think it is easier for you to say. Please, sit." They did, and Meskhishvili poured glasses of wine for each of them before proposing the requisite toast. They drank then got down to business.

"You claim you've invented a way to trigger earthquakes on demand," Sydney began. "Can you explain how that works? Before we submit an offer we'd like to understand just what it is we're buying."

"Certainly. In essence, it is very easy to use. You will, of course, understand if I do not provide details until after an agreement has been reached, but the basic idea is simple. You enter the coordinates of the target location into the terminal, which communicates with a series of private satellites. The satellites generate a focused burst of--well, the science is a secret for now. What is important is the result. Of course, this is best if the target is near a, how do you say, fault or near the ocean."

"If you won't explain the science behind the device, why should we believe any of your claims?" If things went wrong and her mother ended up getting away with it after all, the more she learned of how it worked the greater the chances Marshall could come up with some way to stop it.

"You heard of the tsunami that hit Hawaii three weeks ago? That was our test run. Focal point was at the bottom of the Pacific."

"Impressive. So we're bidding on what, exactly? The software?"

"No, no. Not just software. There is only one terminal, and it is entirely isolated system. No way to get the software corrupted by a virus: it talks only to my satellites, which also have built-in, state-of-the-art security measures. They only accept commands from this terminal, which uses a unique protocol. Is all very safe from outside interference, not to worry."

"I see." The news just got better and better. Keeping in mind her mother's advice to start the bidding in the hundreds of millions, she said, "Very well. Five hundred million US dollars."

"You waste my time. This is one-of-a-kind, untraceable."

"Seven fifty." He gave her a scornful look. "All right, one billion dollars."

"Two billion," Meskhishvili countered. "In advance."

"That's unacceptable," Sark interjected firmly. Sydney caught herself before she gave this little charade of theirs away by sending him a death glare. He wouldn't have heeded it, anyway. "We have only your word for it that you were behind the events in Hawaii. Half in advance, the rest after we have completed a successful trial of our own. And we'll need any notes your developers have made; if we're paying for exclusivity, we want to ensure that your people don't simply turn around and make another terminal for someone else."

Meskhishvili regarded them thoughtfully. "You make your test from my facility, and only take the terminal with you after payment is made in full."

"I think we can agree to that," Sydney decided. "I'll have the first billion transferred as soon as we get your account information."

"No, no money," he insisted. "Too easy to track. You must pay half in gemstones, half in small arms."

This time, the urge to glance at Sark was too strong to resist. She found him looking back at her, the furrowing of his brow so slight that she doubted Meskhishvili had any idea he was concerned. He may not have been privy to her briefing, but he surely guessed that the plan didn't involve actually paying for the device. It would be considerably harder to fake a billion dollars' worth of goods than it would an electronic transfer.

"I'm afraid," she began firmly, hoping her dismay didn't show, "that I don't know if that will be possible. Our employer was unaware that you would be asking for non-monetary payment. I don't know how quickly we can get what you want."

"Then we have no deal, Miss Williams. Money is no good to me, not worth the risk, and I am in no great hurry to sell. Besides, I have other prospective buyers who will be happy to comply with my terms."

This was supposed to be an easy mission, damn it. "Perhaps we could have a couple of days to pull it all together. Our employer is very interested in acquiring this device, and I'm certain that if you would allow us a reasonable amount of time we could complete this deal to everyone's satisfaction--"

"I said no. Either you deliver by noon tomorrow, or I take this offer to the next potential buyer."

Well, maybe her father could come up with a way--pool the CIA's resources with her mother's, or something. "We'll see what we can do."

"Very good. Now a toast to seal the agreement." They drank again, then made their escape as calmly as they could.

As soon as they were out of sight, they began picking up speed. Sark seemed to have picked up on her urgent need to report back to her father and begin formulating a plan, and for once he refrained from mocking her about it.

"That was an interesting change of attitude back there," he commented instead. "For future reference, it's generally more useful to pick one persona and stick to it throughout the negotiation; suddenly changing personalities when something unexpected comes up is not recommended. Too much can be revealed that way."

"Sorry if I failed to live up to your standard, Sark," she replied, "but the 'no money' thing took me by surprise. I had to think fast, decide how a ruthless, heartless, cold-blooded killer might react to such a setback. Then I looked at you, and was inspired."

"Am I to infer that that little performance was supposed to be me?"

"Hey, if the pathology fits...." Sydney found she was enjoying herself, far more than she should be. It was one thing to joke around during a mission with Weiss--but this was Sark.

Then again...they'd always done this. Even when she'd hated him the most, their encounters had had an element of playfulness to them, however tinged with venom. It was refreshing, almost; a nice change from all the nameless, faceless, personality-less guards she spent so much of her time fighting. And they were, however temporarily, working together, after all. Sort of. It probably wasn't a problem as long as she didn't let herself relax around him.

Besides, if Sark really started to be a problem for her, her dad would kill him. So she might as well have fun.

When they arrived back at the guesthouse, they found her parents about as far from each other as possible. Her mother was lounging on the bed, seemingly relaxed, the hint of a smile playing about her lips. Her father sat on the other side of the room, watching her warily. Weiss stood looking out the window, probably wishing he were anywhere else. She couldn't blame him; she remembered perfectly how uncomfortable it was to be around her parents when they were being like this.

Her father took one look at her and knew they'd been unsuccessful. "What went wrong?"

"He refused to accept a transfer of funds," she replied as she flopped into the chair next to his. Sure, it probably seemed like taking sides, but her father needed her more than Irina Derevko ever did, so she didn't much care. "He wants a billion in gems and arms before he'll even let us near the device. By noon tomorrow."

"Were you able to learn enough about how it works to be of any use?"

"Oh, that's the best part. It's an isolated terminal, so there's no way to introduce a virus from a distance, much less have Marshall hack in. It somehow communicates directly with Meskhishvili's satellites, using a homegrown protocol that will probably take him longer to crack than we can afford to wait."

"Sark, what's your opinion?"

"I concur with Sydney's assessment of the situation," he told her mother. "I have the greatest respect for Mr. Flinkman's abilities, but from what Meskhishvili was willing to tell us, our only viable options are to somehow meet his demands, or follow him when he delivers the terminal to some other buyer. All things considered, I suspect the latter is rather more within our capabilities."

"I agree. When does he meet with his next potential buyer?"

"Tomorrow afternoon sometime, I think, Dad. He wasn't exactly forthcoming with the details; all we know is that we lose our chance at noon. Why?"

"He hasn't seen myself or Weiss. We'll stake out the stall before you arrive to let him know you won't be able to conclude the deal, and wait. If he scans you for transmitters manually, that indicates that there are no bugkillers in place, so you will take one with you and plant it as you go in. Since there doesn't seem to be much chance of finding a suitable spot to hide the car within range, Weiss or I will be listening as we keep watch. Ideally, the noon deadline means that he does in fact have someone scheduled for the same day; let's hope that whoever it is will be able to make the purchase."

"You can hope that; I, on the other hand, will be too busy hoping it's not Sloane, since he can easily identify all of us."

The quelling glare she received from her father didn't quite outweigh the amusement of watching Sark try not to laugh. Okay, she admitted to herself, it was more like seeing the corner of his mouth quirk up for a fleeting moment, but coming from someone as controlled as Sark, that was practically outright hysterics. She suppressed a grin of her own.

"As I was saying," her father continued, "Sydney, Irina, and Sark will wait nearby with the car for our signal. Depending on the circumstances, Weiss and I will either join you or catch up later."

"Um, I hate to be the bearer of bad tidings," Weiss ventured, "but there's one thing wrong with this little plan: if we're going to go in and blow this thing up by ourselves, we're going to need some equipment."

Oops. "He's right," she admitted. "Since we weren't supposed to be carrying out that part of the mission ourselves, the only op tech we were given was the tracker."

"I have a contact in the area who can get us whatever we need--explosives, communications, security countermeasures. He's former KGB. No questions asked."

She exchanged wary glances with her father, who then nodded reluctantly. "Very well. I will accompany you when you meet with him."

"What's the matter, Jack? Don't you trust me?"

No one bothered answering that.

They spent the rest of the evening refining the plan and generally trying not to kill each other regardless of temptation. Sydney had this uneasy feeling that Sark kept looking at her, but each time she tried to catch him at it he was studiously examining the maps, so her uneasiness persisted. He'd always unsettled her more when they were supposedly on the same side than when they were in acknowledged opposition, and apparently the years had done nothing to change that. Despite what she'd told him earlier, if they ever did work together on a regular basis she'd be the one always wondering when he'd betray her, not the other way around. Which was a pity, since deep down she suspected that if only he'd been one of the good guys, they really would have made a great team.

The following morning, Sydney, Weiss, and Sark used the remaining time before the meet to finish committing their maps of the area to memory while her parents went to collect the equipment they'd requested. Everyone seemed to have entered what Sydney thought of as Mission Mode, and with it came a considerable reduction in the mutual sniping--even after her parents returned, which was something of a miracle.

Since she and Sark were likely to be scanned by Meskhishivili's man again, comms were only given to the others for the time being. All the weapons and other newly-acquired gadgets were loaded into Jack's rental car, then he and Weiss went to get into position. As noon approached, Sydney and Sark once again set out for the market. As they entered the space behind the stallfront, Sark took advantage of the crowding to stick the bug on the entryway while Sydney was being scanned.

As soon as the toasting ritual had been completed, Meskhishvili leaned back in his chair and got straight to the point. "Do you have what I asked for?"

"I'm afraid our employer was unable to pull together the requested quantities in time," Sydney told him. "We ordinarily do business on a cash-only basis; we don't have much in the way of items suitable for trade on hand. Add to that the time needed to transport them here, and, well, your deadline didn't allow us sufficient opportunity."

"I am sorry to hear that. It seems our business is concluded. Good day."

She and Sark exchanged glances, as if to say, "That's it?" It appeared they weren't even to be granted a parting toast. With a mental shrug, she rose and followed Sark out.

"Well, that was a waste of time," she observed once they were out of earshot.

"What did you expect, Sydney? For him to volunteer the location of his secret lair?"

"Now you're just being silly. Of course we have to work out the location on our own. But is it too much to ask that he give us a veiled clue to the secret password we'll need once we get there?"

He looked at her a moment in disbelief. "And you claim I'm the silly one?"

She couldn't help it; she giggled. "What can I say, the fun's about to start. And to think that just yesterday I was complaining about how boring this mission would be."

"You, Agent Bristow," he declared, "have a twisted idea of what constitutes 'fun'. I like it. Are you absolutely certain I can't talk you into coming to work for me?"

"Positive, Sark. Besides, from what I can tell there is no 'work for you'--if I accepted, I'd be working for my mother by default. And frankly, that's even less likely to happen."

"Just say the word, and I'll leave Irina's employment. Think of it: the two of us, against--Irina Derevko, Jack Bristow, and Arvin Sloane. Oh, and your CIA. All in all, I like our chances."

She snorted. "Sure you do. Against Sloane, maybe. But admit it, even you are afraid of my parents."

"I most certainly am not." At her skeptical look, he changed the subject, asking more seriously, "Would you really consider working for me before working for your mother?"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but...yeah."

"Might I ask why?"

"You might."

When it became clear that she wouldn't be continuing, he rolled his eyes. "Why?"

"Because she'd end up betraying me again," she replied after a moment's reflection. "You would too, of course, but it's not the same. I know she's not the mother I remember--that she never really was--but I learned the hard way that she's capable of working her way past my defenses, getting me to trust her. And that makes it so much worse when she finally turns on me. I'm not letting that happen again."

Judging from his silence, Sark was at least as surprised she'd shared that with him as she was. When they were a block away from where her mother waited with the car, he called her name. She stopped and turned to him. The playfulness which had marked the beginning of the conversation had dissipated.

"I am not Irina," he said at last, the solemnity of his manner such that she refrained from commenting on the obviousness of his statement. "Don't judge me by what you think she might do."

Before she could work out what he might have meant, he'd turned the corner and she'd lost the chance to respond. Naturally, neither of them would continue that line of discussion in her mother's presence, so Sydney was left to wonder why Sark had thought it was worth telling her that.

She shoved the question to the back of her mind and followed him to the car. As she took the comm unit that was waiting for her, she heard Weiss' voice coming through the earpiece. Considering the slightly disapproving expression on her mother's face, he was probably making one of his jokes. Her mother didn't seem like the kind of person who'd appreciate them, but Sydney couldn't help smiling as she inserted the earpiece.

Sydney turned on her mic. "Weiss, you're not deliberately trying to provoke my parents, are you?"

"Why? You want to place a bet on which of them will snap first?"

"While I'm sure watching either Irina or Jack kill you would be highly entertaining, Agent Weiss, I believe we have more important business to attend to just now. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Oh, sure," Weiss complained. "First he steals my partner, now he ruins my fun."

"Aw, poor baby," she teased him. "Is that mean old Sark bothering you?"

"And to think there was a time when these people were actually afraid of me," Sark commented to Irina.

Weiss snorted. "Someone thinks highly of himself."

"Fascinating as this conversation is," her father broke in dryly, "we do have work to do."

Well, fine. "Any sign of Meskhishvili's next contact?"

"Not yet, but they could arrive at any moment. I suggest we go radio silent in the meantime, so no one gets...distracted."

Weiss heaved a dramatic sigh, then complied with her father's not-so-subtle order. Sydney did the same, then realised that Weiss wasn't the only one being punished by radio silence, whether that was her father's intent or not; she was stuck in a car with her mother and Sark, cut off from outside contact, and with nothing to do but wait. Yes, her life truly did suck sometimes.

Had it been just her and Sark, they could probably pass the time with their usual, if peculiar, banter. But somehow the idea of letting her mother in on it just seemed...wrong. In more ways than she could count. Which left her with trying to figure out that "I'm not Irina" comment.

Leaning against the car door, she stared out the window, idly watching the people pass by on the street, secure in the knowledge that, if nothing else, she could at least trust her mother and Sark to pay attention to what was going on with the mission. There wasn't really any need for her to stay alert too, since they were likely to be waiting for a while.

She did start out by trying to understand Sark's behaviour--not that she honestly expected she'd ever be successful--but her thoughts soon turned to her mother. She'd been surprisingly forthcoming since they'd run into each other, which somehow made Sydney even more wary than evasiveness would have. What she'd told Sark was true: she couldn't trust her own judgment where Derevko was concerned. Her father's wasn't much better. The main problem was that she couldn't tell if their suspicions were based in fact or simply their own paranoias.

Eventually, however, her mind abandoned that equally fruitless topic and wandered far from anything related to the mission. When Weiss announced that someone had finally been let into the back of the fabric seller's stall, the sudden voice in her ear startled her. She was certain Sark had noticed her start--the amused smirk on his face left little doubt--but at her glare he actually refrained from commenting on it, which made a nice change.

By the time her father reported seeing their quarry emerging, she'd pulled herself together. A few minutes later, he added, "Meskhishvili's just left; he's currently heading your way, so Weiss and I will follow until we can join you."

"Understood, Jack." Her mother started the car and they began to keep a close eye on the alley entrance.

They didn't have long to wait before the others arrived. Her father automatically took the front passenger seat, and Weiss opened Sydney's door. "Scooch over."

"Why do I have to be the one stuck in the middle?"

"Buffer zone," he replied, leaning in to whisper, "besides, I'm not about to be the one to tell him he has to sit in the middle. Are you?"

She sighed in resignation but slid over. This was going to be so much fun, she could tell.

As soon as Weiss closed the door, Irina pulled out into the street, keeping an eye on Meskhishvili. Their task was made easier when he, too, got into a car; there wasn't enough traffic to make it easy to tail somebody who remained on foot without being highly conspicuous. Soon they were once again headed roughly north out of the city.

The conversation on the drive was...stilted, to say the least. Once her father had relayed what he'd overheard after her and Sark's meeting and they had all discussed what effect the little intel they'd gleaned about the delivery of the terminal had on their game plan, awkward silence ensued. Occasionally someone--usually herself or Weiss, but sometimes even Irina--would try to start a non-work-related discussion, but since no one was willing to get too personal in current company, the available topics were limited. So many things seemed to be barred: current events were too closely connected to business, none of them really had much time for standard recreational activities like sports or movies, and really, how long could one discuss the weather? Particularly when three of the people in the car were known for having little patience with trivialities.

They were about an hour out of T'bilisi when Weiss' phone went off. He looked at the number and swore. "It's Dixon." Everyone fell silent, and he answered.

"Weiss.... Yeah, about that--the mission's not exactly going as planned. Meskhishvili refused to sell to us.... I know, we should have informed you yesterday, but--.... No! Don't bother sending the team. Really. We've got it under control here.... Syd called Jack, and he came to help us out.... Yeah.... We've got a plan, picked up some equipment.... Yes, sir.... Uh huh.... Right.... We will. And I'm really sorry we didn't report in earlier.... Yes, sir. We'll see you when we get back." He turned off the phone and heaved a sigh. "Note to self," he announced to no one in particular. "Avoid spending too much time with the Bristow family."

"Eric!" Sydney said, laughing.

"Well, I should. Forget for the moment that I'm voluntarily sitting in a car with two people we've been trying to take down for almost as long as I've known you. I just lied to the CIA. I never would have done that before. Face it, Bristow, you're a bad influence."

"If your conscience is troubling you, Agent Weiss, you're welcome to call Mr. Dixon back and confess."

"I appreciate the offer, but I actually want to keep my job. So I'm gonna have to pass."

"Hey, Dad," she broke in before Sark had a chance to respond, "I believe this is the point at which you threaten to turn the car around."

He turned to look at her quizzically. "I beg your pardon?"

Weiss snickered, but Sydney could only lean back in her seat and sigh. "Yeah, I figured. Never mind."

The others faded from Sydney's notice as she tried to remember the last time she'd taken a road trip that wasn't work-related, and was depressingly unsurprised that she couldn't. If there had ever been any family vacations by car, they would have had to have been before her mother "died", when she was too young to really remember them. She refused to consider how pathetic her life must be if being crammed into a Lada with a friend, two internationally-wanted terrorists, and Jack Bristow could feel like a vacation.

As they'd anticipated based on what her father had heard, Meskhishvili left the highway at Ts'khinvali, at which point Sydney, at least, began to pay attention to where they were going once more. Irina had little trouble following him through the city and to a large industrial building on the outskirts. They drove around it for a quick look, making mental notes of the location and exits, then found a hotel. Sydney, who, as the least conspicuous-looking, accompanied her as she went in to inquire about vacancies, was astonished to find that her mother was able to speak Georgian with the desk clerk, then remembered how she'd gotten her start in the spy world. It made sense that a KGB agent would have studied the language, but it still brought back Sydney's own feelings of inadequacy from the flight over.

Still, there was nothing she could do about it, so instead she kept an eye out to make sure Irina wasn't going to sneak out the back rather than check in, as she'd been sent to do, and tried to put anything but the job at hand out of her mind. Within minutes of their carrying everything from car to the rooms, her mother had her laptop out and connected to the phone line.

"Hold on, what are you--"

"One of the things my contact supplied me with was information, Sydney. If you'd like to go in tonight blind, be my guest, but I thought I'd download the building's blueprints and security system data first."

"Oh. Right. Carry on."

From Sark's corner came a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. Feeling foolish enough already for having jumped on her mother's case for what was, indeed, a reasonable action to be taking, Sydney chose to ignore him. Since she'd just spent almost two hours squashed in the back seat between him and her partner, she decided she'd earned the right to stretch out a little, so she lay down and took up as much space on the bed as she reasonably could. A quick nap seemed in order; it wasn't like there weren't plenty of other, equally capable, agents around to do the work for an hour or so.

By some miracle, she actually managed to fall asleep. When she woke, the others were crowded around Irina's laptop discussing ways around the security measures. She joined them, but merely listened; they seemed to have everything well in hand, and the technical stuff had never been her strongest point anyway. Not long afterward, while her mother, Sark, and Weiss were going over the blueprints and deciding where to place the charges, her father pulled her aside.

"Sydney, in Mtskheta you mentioned tracking devices. How many did you bring?"

"Two; we couldn't be sure which of us would have a better chance to place one on Meskhishvili. Why?"

"Your mother is being entirely too cooperative; I don't trust her. I want you to wear one of the transmitters when we go in, in case she and Sark have their own agenda. If something happens, I want a way to find you."

Now that he mentioned it, that wasn't a bad idea. "All right. So you'll be wearing the other?"

"Of course. I'll need a receiver as well."

"We only brought one, though the laptop can pick up the signal, too." His response to her question had been a bit too ready, making her suspicious. "I think it's best if I keep the receiver. After all, if you have it you might be tempted to use it to, say, follow Mom instead."

You had to give him credit; her father wasn't one to waste time on pointless denials. "Just a precaution. If she double-crosses us, we'll still be able to destroy the terminal and, possibly, put Irina back in that cell, where she belongs."

"Fine. Then I'll plant my tracker on Sark, in case she discovers hers. I don't know how I'll get that close to him without making him suspicious, but I'm sure I'll find a way."

"Sydney, be reasonable--"

"No, you be reasonable, Dad! Either we use both trackers to keep us safe, or we use them both to help us bring Mom and Sark in. So take your pick, because I'm not wearing one unless you do. And I'm keeping the receiver, and will destroy it if you ask me to use it to follow Mom after claiming to choose the first option."

He glared at her stubbornly for a while, but eventually inclined his head slightly. "Fine. You win. If it's the only way I can be certain of being able to find you if this operation goes wrong, I'll take the risk of losing your mother," he conceded.

"Thank you."

He rejoined the rest of their makeshift team while she slipped into the other room to retrieve the necessary equipment. If anyone noticed her absence, they failed to mention it.

An hour after sundown, they were piling back into the rental car. It didn't take long to reach the site and find an out-of-the-way place to park that wasn't visible from the building. They'd done sufficient preparation--and had enough trust in each other's skills--that no one felt the need to go over the plan one last time before moving in; instead, they all double-checked their equipment.

Her parents set off first, since they were to set their explosives in the far side of the building, while she and Sark took the near. Weiss, having less field experience than the others, was staying behind to monitor the security feed.

As they began closing in on the building, her glance fell on Sark, and she caught the glint of amusement in his eyes. Not caring that her mic was on and everyone was listening, she warned him, "If you say one word about 'destiny', I'll break your jaw right now."

"Innocent", it seemed, wasn't a look Sark could pull off. Not that he appeared to be trying very hard. "I wouldn't dream of it, Sydney."

Once again he seemed to have gotten the last word by virtue of sheer timing; infiltrating an enemy's lab was not the time to worry about snappy comebacks, so she didn't. The moment Weiss informed them all that he'd successfully hacked into the security system and that their exits were, for the moment, not under surveillance, she and Sark moved in, seamlessly taking out the two men guarding their door with tranq guns.

Their relative lack of intel on the facility--and the lack of Marshall's gadgets--meant they'd had to settle for a relatively low-tech means of bypassing security. Weiss simply monitored where the cameras were located, warned them of upcoming guards, and let them know when it was safe to round corners. Sydney found it comforting, being able to overhear exactly what her father was doing and that he was safe; far from being a distraction, it helped her concentrate on her own tasks.

Then, as she and Sark were finishing up their final set of charges, the unmistakable sounds of a struggle came over their comms, then abruptly ceased.

"Dad?! Eric, what's going on?"

"I'm not sure, Syd. The security cameras by your parents' location went offline completely just before, so I didn't see what happened. We've lost audio contact, too. I think we have to assume they've been made; you and Sark should get out of there now. We'll figure out what to do once you're safe."

"No way. Who knows what might happen by then?"

"Syd, you can't help them if you get caught, too!"

"Going radio silent," she said, ignoring his protests. Looking at her curiously, Sark turned his mic off as well.

"You don't take orders well, do you?"

"I don't have time for you to be, well, you right now. I need to know: are you going to help me find my father, or not?"

"Last I checked, I owe your father nothing. After all, he'd like to see me in that lovely glass cell again. Perhaps you should help me find Irina first, as a gesture of good faith."

"Sark, I swear to you, unless she's betrayed us again, he'll help us find Mom if I ask. There's no guarantee she'd do the same for him."

"And if she has?"

"Then she's fair game for having violated our little truce, but if you help me and Dad get out of here safely, you'll still be allowed to walk away. I promise."

He regarded her thoughtfully for three or four eternal seconds. "Very well, Agent Bristow. I'll hold you to your word. I take it you have a plan? One you didn't want Agent Weiss to overhear?"

"It's not that; I just didn't want to have to listen to him try and talk me out of this." She reached around and pulled the receiver out from its hiding place at the small of her back. "Before we left the hotel, Dad insisted I plant one of the tracking devices intended for Meskhishvili on myself, just in case. Luckily, I made him do the same, and kept the receiver."

"Your confidence in Irina and myself is overwhelming."

"Shut up and do something useful, like watch for guards." He actually did so, for which she was grateful. Right now she was too focused on getting to her father to have much patience with anything that might detract from that.

Thanks to her father's paranoia, they were actually able to find him with relatively little difficulty, though not as quickly as Sydney would have liked. She'd never been quite so grateful to have used a remote detonator instead of timers; the last thing they needed was to be pressed for time.

When they finally reached him, he was locked in an almost empty room, both his hands and his feet shackled. Sark kept watch while she picked the locks on her father's bonds.

"Sydney, are you certain you should be trusting him?" he whispered, his eyes flicking over to indicate Sark.

"It's okay, Dad; we have a deal," she explained, working furiously. "He agreed to help me find you first, and as soon as I've got you out of these things we're going to rescue Mom."

He hesitated. "Sydney...."

Her head was screaming that she did not want to hear anything he would say in that tone of voice, but she couldn't stop herself from looking up at her father's face. Her heart sank. "She didn't."

"I'm sorry. I...know you want to think well of her."

She blinked back the tears that had sprung to her eyes; she'd known this could happen, it was ridiculous to be upset. "That's crazy. She's Irina Derevko."

"She's also your mother."

"We don't have time for this," she said, shoving the matter to the back of her mind as she finished freeing her father. To her relief, he let the subject drop.

They tossed the chains aside and rushed to the hallway. Sark turned, opening his mouth as if to speak; then he caught sight of their faces and closed it again. "Ah," he said simply.

Knowing that, under the circumstances, her father would never trust Sark to lead them safely out, Sydney pushed past and headed back the way they'd come. It may not have been the most direct route out of the building, but at least they knew it had been clear a few minutes earlier. As they were waiting for a security camera to sweep past an intersection they needed to cross, she remembered something.

"Oh, god, Weiss doesn't know." She reached to turn her comm back on, but Sark grabbed her wrist before she got that far. "Let me go! I have to tell him not to trust her if she goes back to the car!"

"I appreciate that, Sydney, but you're forgetting the fact that Irina has her own link to our communications. If you warn him against her, you may actually increase the chances he'll be put at risk."

When her father reluctantly indicated that he agreed, she nodded and forced herself to relax. Sark's eyes continued to bore into hers for a few seconds before he released her arm. He needn't have worried; she knew they were right, and that her mother's latest betrayal, however expected, was making it hard for her to think clearly.

Sydney's internal struggle aside, their escape was almost too easy. As they approached the exit it became clear why--a dozen guards were lying in wait. Before they caught sight of her, Sydney whipped back around the corner and indicated for her companions to come close enough for a whispered conference. Not surprisingly, on learning the reason her father turned accusingly to Sark.

"You have five seconds to convince me you can be trusted to help us before I kill you for leading my daughter into a trap."

"If I were planning to betray either of you, I could have no reason to help Sydney free you."

"You're Irina's lackey; you have no reason to help us in any case."

Sark's jaw tightened at the description as though he wished to object. His eyes locked on Sydney's as he instead told her father, "I swear to you that Irina had not informed me of her intentions, indicating that she has no need of my services in this matter. I am therefore free to dictate my own actions, and I assure you I see no benefit in turning you over to those guards. If you can't believe in my goodwill, at least believe that her failure to warn me may mean she has for some reason ordered my own detention as well."

"Dad, we don't have time for this! The longer we stand here arguing, the more time Mom has to find and get away with the terminal. Let's just get out of here and finish the mission before we start worrying about everybody's motivations."

Her father clearly wasn't pleased at her interference, but she'd long since become immune to his "we'll discuss this later" expression. The important thing was that he stopped demanding proof of loyalty from someone they all knew couldn't offer any.

They swiftly divided up responsibility for the guards, then rounded the corner already firing. Thanks to the element of surprise, all of the guards went down before they'd managed to get off more than a few shots. Not waiting to verify that the men were in fact dead, Sydney followed her father out of the building, sensing Sark not far behind her.

Weiss was frantic by the time they reached the car. "What the hell do you think you were doing, Bristow? This may not have exactly been a sanctioned mission, but you don't just cut me off like that!"

"I needed to help Dad."

"I understand that, and it's not that I'm not glad that you're safe, Jack, but Syd--"

She turned her back on him--this was an argument she just wasn't up for right now--and walked a few feet away. Behind her, she heard her father say brusquely, "Agent Weiss, detonate the charges."

"Shouldn't we wait for Derevko?"

"Do it."

It wasn't until she saw the building explode in front of her that the full meaning of her father's order hit Sydney. As she stared into the flames, she had to choke back a sob and fight the urge to rush in and try to save someone logic said didn't deserve saving.

A soft voice said from just behind her, "She's probably fine, you know."

"What?"

"I doubt she was even still in the building. Even if she did something to disable the charges she and Jack set, Irina knew that she probably wouldn't have time to do the same for ours. She might not think you or Agent Weiss would detonate them with Jack missing, but she also would never rule out the possibility that we'd do exactly as we did. If I had to wager, I'd say she will be far away by the time the flames die down. Whether with or without the terminal, I can't hazard a guess, but if it's your mother you're concerned about...you needn't be."

For the first time, she turned to look at him, trying to judge his sincerity. She couldn't detect any mockery in his expression or bearing, and was too worn out emotionally to overanalyse his words, so she decided to take them at face value. "Thank you."

"She does, however, know where we left the car, so perhaps it would be wise for us to go elsewhere while we can."

He was right, so she took one last look at the destruction in front of her, then turned to follow him the few yards to where Weiss was still trying to get her father to explain what exactly had happened.

"Eric, I'll tell you later," she broke in, "I promise. Just...not now. Sark's right, we should get out of here; they might have been told where we are."

Her father caught on instantly, and when he saw everyone else getting in the car, Weiss just shrugged and did the same. As they left the site behind, he spoke up. "Okay, obviously something happened back there that nobody wants to talk about just yet, and it probably has to do with Derevko. I get it. What I don't get, still, is why, if she did--whatever--you still helped us, Sark."

His daring caused Sydney to hold her breath; even her father seemed waiting expectantly for the answer. When it came, Sark's voice was quiet. "Because some weapons simply should not exist, no matter whose hands they're in."

"This from the guy who once set off a neutron bomb in a church."

"Precisely. During that episode I discovered that even I have my limits. If you want to kill someone, you should simply kill them; anyone who feels the need to use such weapons to hide behind isn't good enough to be in this business to begin with. Killing large numbers of people from a distance just to get at one...lacks finesse. Anyone can do it; there's no skill involved."

At another time, she would have probably ended up arguing the morality of the issue with him, pointing out that there was little difference in the end between the users of these weapons he looked down on and himself. Tonight, though, it didn't seem worth the effort, and she was relieved when the conversation lapsed entirely.

They rode in silence all the way back to T'bilisi, where they took a room in a different part of the city from where they'd stayed before. Just in case Irina really was out there, her father wasn't going to take any chances. He'd started to object to Sark's continued presence, but a quiet plea from her to just let him stay for the night and go his separate way in the morning as agreed changed his mind. Perhaps he was, to some small degree, grateful for Sark's assistance in rescuing him; perhaps he was just concerned about her. Either way, she didn't care enough to question it. Risky or not, this was the right thing to do; in all her imagined "Mom betrays us again" scenarios, Sark had gone with her. They owed him something for having kept his end of the bargain, and a place to crash on the floor wasn't too much to ask.

By unspoken agreement, they all grabbed a few hours of sleep and prepared to be long gone by dawn. While Weiss was separating out their gear from what Irina had obtained for them and her father was on the phone arranging for the CIA plane they'd arrived on to be waiting when they reached the airport, Sydney saw Sark standing by the window and went to thank him.

"There's no need," he replied softly. "I don't suppose I can convince you to change your mind?"

"Afraid not." She paused, the decided to ask the question she'd been pondering all night. "How can you work with her?"

"You know as well as I, Sydney, that I've never been one of the good guys."

"No, I mean, how can you work for someone who lies to you, who goes out of her way to get weapons even you think are too dangerous, who...who turns her back on you in the middle of an op, knowing it means you might get captured. How can you do this job, when you work for someone you can't even trust?"

For the first time, he turned from the window to face her. "How can you, Sydney? Whether you admit it or not, there have been times you've questioned the CIA's goals, yet you still work for them. When you went missing, they gave up searching for you after an astonishingly short amount of time, yet you still went back to them. And I seem to recall at least one occasion on which they'd lied to you; while I don't doubt you're capable of organising an ambush, that day you were trading me to the Covenant you were honestly surprised when the helicopters showed up. How do you work for someone you can't trust?"

"It's not the same!"

"Of course it isn't. But at least Irina has never pretended to be guided by any reasons but her own." She had nothing to say to that, and after a moment he added, "Still, if you ever decide you're tired of taking orders instead of giving them...."

She smiled wanly. It was nice to know some things, at least, never changed. "I'll keep you in mind."

A ghost of a smile flickered across his face briefly before he once more became the unreadable assassin she'd fought for years. Without another word, he crossed to where Weiss had packed his and Irina's equipment, shouldered it, and opened the door. When he turned to close it, his eyes met hers for a moment, his gaze intense, as if to promise that they'd meet again one day.

After all, it was their destiny.