Chains of Self cont'd (again)
And the last part!
Chapter 17 - Trust
I want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god
Ten hours later, Sark let the water beat down upon his face. It was bordering on scalding, but he always liked his showers hot. He had just finished doing some isometric exercises and a grueling Pilates routine that Irina had introduced him to. And though his body was still sore and tired, he felt slightly more refreshed. His newfound peace though only lasted as long as he didn’t let his mind wander back over the events of the last few days. But then the exercises had been very useful on that front as well.
He was just wiping some soap from his eyes when he heard the distinctive sound of someone coming into the washroom and lifting the lid for the toilet. Sark looked through the corner of the shower curtain and sure enough, Vaughn had his eyes closed and was relieving himself, oblivious to the fact that the washroom was currently in use.
Sark was about to move his head back under the shower when a though suddenly occurred to him. "Just don’t flush--" he called quickly.
It was too late. Vaughn had flushed and the already hot shower became insufferable. Sark quickly pushed aside the shower curtain and jumped out.
"What is your problem?" Sark demanded angrily, water dripping from his body as he reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
Vaughn jumped back slightly. "Oh! Sorry. I didn’t..."
"You didn’t hear the water running?" Sark growled.
"No, I did, but I really had to go. I just forgot not to flush. I’m sorry." Vaughn put his hand up to his head and rubbed his temples.
Sark relented marginally as he took in the pained look on Vaughn’s face. "There’s some aspirin in the emergency kit."
Vaughn nodded and smiled thankfully. He was about to turn and exit when he stopped in mid stride and turned back. "I’m...I’m sorry about last night."
Sark raised his eyebrow and pushed aside the sudden hammering in his chest. "Which part? The kiss, or when you passed out on me?"
Vaughn cleared his throat and looked away. "It’s just...I can’t."
Sark’s smile disappeared as he tried to conceal his disappointment. "Can’t what? Kiss another man?"
"No, not that. I just...never mind. It’s just complicated," Vaughn shook his head and turned to leave again.
With quick reflexes, Sark shot his arm out and grabbed the front of the sink so that Vaughn was effectively trapped. "Why don’t you explain it to me? I’ve been known to understand a few complicated things in my time."
Vaughn shrugged but didn’t meet his eyes. After a few minutes of painful silence, he finally tried to explain. "Look, I can’t. I just don’t deserve to. I love Sydney..." his voice started to crack at the mention of her name. "Don’t you see? I failed her. I deserve to suffer."
Sark’s expression darkened severely as he grabbed Vaughn’s jaw and forced him to look up. "Bullshit," Sark spat out at him, gripping his chin tightly. "Are you naturally this dense or do you have to work at it?" He pushed Vaughn up against the cabinet.
Vaughn winced. "If I hadn’t dropped her off that night..."
"And if I hadn’t put Allison in that position, maybe they would both still be here. But they’re not. So you can deny yourself the comfort I’m offering you because you don’t want to sleep with the enemy, or you can deny yourself out of respect for her memory, but spare me the martyr syndrome because I have no desire to listen to your self pity."
Vaughn looked at him with a sudden realization. "Allison--" his brow crinkled in pain and confusion as he looked at Sark’s face as if searching for answers. "I didn’t think to ask if they’d identified any of her remains, or found anything."
Sark shrugged and took a step back, dropping his hand off the sink. Suddenly he was the one wanting to get away. Allison was just not a topic that he wanted to discuss.
Unfortunately, the washroom wasn’t very big and soon he had no choice but to look back up. "Yes well, I realize that she’s not a top priority for the CIA right now. I assume she’s dead as well, though why someone would go through all the trouble of kidnapping, only to kill them, I don’t know. Maybe the triggers didn’t work, I don’t know."
Sark tried to look away, but this time Vaughn reached forward and brushed his hand along Sark’s cheek. Sark desperately wanted to continue scowling, but the soft touch against his skin, slowly dissolved the tension.
"Things are so complicated between us," Vaughn sighed as Sark stepped closer.
Despite himself, Sark couldn’t help but crack a lopsided smile at Vaughn’s talent for stating the obvious. But with his heart thumping again back in his chest, he became determined to call Vaughn on the mixed signals he was sending. Sark leaned forward and let his lips brush against Vaughn’s.
Vaughn sighed again, his house of cards crumbling to the ground. He angled his head, allowing Sark to step closer while still maintaining the kiss, and then he parted his lips. Without missing a beat, Sark quickly took advantage of the opportunity and slipped his tongue inside.
Sark fought to control the sudden lurch he felt in his chest when Vaughn’s tongue pressed against his. He noticed that this was different than their first kiss, which had been mostly filled with nervousness and fear. Now, instead, there was also the element of pleasure mixed in.
As their tongues met, Sark was surprised that Vaughn’s tongue was not soft but rather insistent. But then, he’d gotten rather used to Allison’s sloppy kisses. Sark mentally gave himself a shake to banish those thoughts from his mind and settled instead on bringing his hands up to cradle Vaughn’s head.
Vaughn seemed to understand Sark’s demand for control because he moved in closer, following the lead of the hand on his cheek, until his body was pressed up against him. Finally Sark released him from the kiss and watched Vaughn’s face as he slowly opened his eyes and refocused on him.
"What do you want from me?" Vaughn asked him, desire plainly written across his face, though the fear was slowly starting to creep back in.
Sark smirked but refrained from making any comment. Instead he just grabbed Vaughn’s arm and opened the washroom door.
Sark heard Vaughn laugh nervously as he led him by the hand to the couch in the living room. When they got to the couch, Sark grabbed Vaughn’s t-shirt and pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor. Vaughn didn’t object, though Sark could see his unease increase even more.
With his towel still tied around his hips, Sark forced Vaughn to sit down on the couch. Then without answering the silent question on Vaughn’s face, he turned towards the kitchen. "Just don’t pass out on me this time, ok?"
Sark returned a few minutes later with two aspirins and a glass of water, which Vaughn gratefully accepted. The apprehension around them was reduced slightly as Vaughn popped the pills, though Sark took the opportunity to debate with himself exactly what it was that he did want from Vaughn.
Unfortunately, Sark came up with no answers before Vaughn looked up at him and gave him a half smile that twisted his heart. Vaughn extended his hand towards him and Sark let himself be pulled down towards the couch until they were sitting next to each other.
"You know, you’re not as close-minded as I imagined you to be," Sark whispered to him bring a hand up to caress his face,
Vaughn’s half smiled turned towards one of amusement. "You mean because you’re a guy?" Sark nodded and Vaughn chuckled lightly. "Well, college can get pretty crazy sometimes."
Sark snorted and leaned forward to toy with Vaughn’s hair. "I never imagined you as being the sort of man that would experiment."
Vaughn gave him a wry grin and then leaned in to kiss him. "Well there are lots of things that you underestimated about me." This time Vaughn begged entry in to Sark’s mouth and Sark obliged eagerly. The sensation of Vaughn’s tongue gently exploring his mouth was enough to drive any further questions out of his mind.
When Vaughn finally moved back to get some air, Sark took the opportunity to move his mouth down to Vaughn’s neck and Vaughn tilted his head back to give him better access. Sark ran his tongue across Vaughn’s collar bone, taking in the salty taste of his skin and Vaughn shivered as Sark paused every few inches to suck deliberately on his skin until it turned red, or to bite it not so gently with his teeth until he left an impression.
Vaughn brought his own hand up to Sark’s arm and ran it along his smooth muscles. And though Sark would have thought that kissing was the more intimate of acts, it was actually Vaughn’s deliberate touch that made the heat pool between his thighs and spiraled the moment out of control.
Sark stopped his exploration of Vaughn’s neck long enough to push him down onto the couch so that he was lying on his back. Sark sat there and admired the flushed look on Vaughn’s face as he looked back at him. Vaughn’s nervousness seemed to have faded, and though the silent tension between them gave Vaughn an air of vulnerability, Sark was also struck by how strong he seemed. And though the thought should have been a contradiction, Sark sensed that it wasn’t.
Using his hands against the cushions of the couch, Sark leaned overtop of Vaughn, gently running his hands across Vaughn’s chest. He smiled as Vaughn shivered at his light touch and then Sark lowered his lips to Vaughn’s collar bone and started back where he’d left off.
This time though, Sark followed Vaughn’s sternum, tracing the path with his fingers and then following it with his tongue and his lips. When he reached the center of his chest, he brought his mouth over to Vaughn’s left nipple and flicked it with his tongue until it hardened in his mouth and felt Vaughn shift underneath him. Applying light pressure with his teeth, Sark teased him until Vaughn finally groaned and gripped the side of his face.
Forcing his head back up towards him, Vaughn hungrily brought Sark’s face towards him. And once again, it was Vaughn moving his tongue into Sark’s mouth and across his teeth. Sark’s breath caught in his throat as Vaughn caressed his back with his hand and Sark could feel his own arousal increase. Lifting his body up off of Vaughn’s for a second, Sark realigned himself so that when he lowered his body, his growing erection was rubbing up against Vaughn’s hip.
Vaughn immediately acknowledged the hardness against him by gripping Sark’s arm so violently that his nails dug in and left indentations on his skin. Sark felt the slight sting of pain in his arm, but it only made him press down even harder with his body. Vaughn in turn, gripped him even tighter, as they lost themselves in the sensations of grinding against each other.
Finally, before the jeans and towel rubbing together could chafe him completely, Sark pulled himself up on his knees, and paused a moment to catch his breath. He was pleased to note that Vaughn seemed just as out of breath, judging from the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
Sark let his gaze linger, admiring the muscle definition on Vaughn’s chest. Vaughn wasn’t overly muscled but Sark found the faint definition to be much more tantalizing than bulging veins and bulky muscles. Vaughn also wasn’t very hairy and Sark noted appreciatively, that Vaughn only had a fine covering of hair trailing all the way down his stomach; in effect, leading his gaze down to more interesting places.
With a slight smirk, Sark let his gaze be led, but then decided to take the same path down Vaughn’s chest, this time with his tongue. When he reached the top of his pants, Sark kissed and licked the little patch of skin directly above the button of his jeans until finally; Vaughn grabbed his hair with his free hand.
Unbuttoning the top button and lowering the zipper with his teeth, Sark heard Vaughn’s breath hitch as he teased him by breathing through his underwear. But apparently, Vaughn didn’t need anymore teasing.
"You could..if you move...take off my pants..."
But Sark just smiled and swatted away Vaughn’s hands that were trying to remove his own remaining clothing. "I think that since my current rate is half a million dollars, you should just let me proceed with what I was doing."
Vaughn’s head fell back against the couch with a small laugh. "I suppose."
Sark tugged at Vaughn’s jeans bringing his boxers down with them and pulled the legs off one by one. When the jeans landed on the floor, Sark gracefully moved back up Vaughn’s legs. Eventually Sark reached Vaughn’s erection but he skirted around it with his fingers until Vaughn started squirming again. Then he ran his fingertips delicately across it without giving him any friction.
Vaughn groaned in frustration and then redoubled his death grip on Sark’s arm. "What are you trying to do to me?" Vaughn panted.
Sark smirked and then lowered his mouth to the tip of Vaughn’s penis. He licked around the top and then breathed cool air on him. Vaughn cried out and grabbed Sark’s head with his other hand, threading his fingers through his hair. Sark smiled again at the slight pain as Vaughn tugged at his hair in an effort to get more satisfaction.
Pleased with the complete control he seemed to have acquired for the moment, Sark waited until he thought Vaughn was going to explode from the teasing. Then, he gripped the base of Vaughn’s erection firmly and took him fully into his mouth, but this time with no half measure. Sark relaxed the muscles in his throat and using his lips to seal in the suction, swallowed a few times in succession.
Vaughn arched his back and pulled his hair violently.
With one hand in a firm grip around the base of his cock; Sark took him in and out of his mouth with quick, short little thrusts, following the motion with his hand.
He could feel Vaughn getting harder in his hands, so he quickened the pace and held onto it for several minutes. Vaughn took up the thrusting himself, pulling his cock in and out of Sark’s mouth for several minutes. But after a while, Sark could tell that it wasn’t succeeding. If he kept this up, he would only make Vaughn numb. So Sark decided to try a different tactic. He pulled Vaughn out of his mouth and sat up.
Vaughn looked up at him dazed. "What?..."
"You think too much." Sark replied lightheartedly but Vaughn only looked at him in confusion. "But that’s ok. I always have a backup plan."
Before Vaughn could comment, Sark stood up and finally removed the towel that was just getting twisted anyway. Then he went back over to the couch and crawled overtop of Vaughn.
"Back up plan?" Vaughn asked nervously, suddenly trying to sit back up. Sark eyed him carefully, trying to determine if Vaughn was really hesitating, and then decided that he was.
Sark moved back and allowed Vaughn to sit up. He noticed Vaughn’s eyes take in his nakedness and Sark watched as Vaughn’s adam’s apple bobbed nervously, up and down. He gently brushed some hair off of Vaughn’s forehead. "I can continue doing what I was doing if that’s easier for you. That way you can pretend I’m her if you want."
Sark had said the comment out of sympathy and so he wasn’t prepared for Vaughn’s violent reaction.
"What?"
"I know I can never replace her. That’s not my intent. But I can help you heal. That’s what you said you wanted."
Vaughn’s mouth twisted in a mixture of sadness and outrage. "I don’t ever want to pretend that you’re her."
Sark nodded quickly in understanding, his heart suddenly bottoming out in disappointment. Of course Vaughn wouldn’t want to pretend that he was Sydney. He stood up quickly to find his towel but he didn’t get farther than half a step before Vaughn reached out and grabbed his arm.
"It’s not because you’re not good enough to be her." Vaughn said gently, his voice was quiet but firm. He pulled Sark back towards him and Sark let himself sink back down on the couch. "We both deserve to be more than just substitutes for each other."
"Trust me. You’re no substitute for Allison. You don’t stink of smoke." He gave Vaughn a half smile. "Our relationship was less than perfect."
Vaughn tenderly brushed a stray hair off of Sark’s forehead. "And you’re not a substitute for Sydney. You just caught me off guard before. I’m sorry."
Vaughn leaned forward to rest his head on Sark’s shoulder. Sark brought his hand up to caress Vaughn’s arm and they stayed like that for several minutes. Sark leaned forward and kissed him. "Don’t be."
They returned to kissing each other for a while, until finally Vaughn leaned back down on the cushions and invited Sark to join him. Sark lay half on his side until Vaughn scooted over so that they could both lie crowded down next to each other. Vaughn let his hand wander down until he tentatively grasped Sark’s hardness. Sark tried not to buck at the unexpected touch though it sent a shock of pleasure through him.
They masturbated each other for a few minutes until Sark made him stop. He maneuvered himself back up over top of him and between his legs. Sitting up on his knees, Sark leaned across the coffee table to retrieve the bottle of baby oil that he had discarded there earlier. He squeezed a liberal amount of oil into his hand and then generously coated his own cock.
Turning back to Vaughn, Sark moved his legs so that they were farther apart and then bent his knees to tilt his hips. Sliding between his legs Sark rubbed himself against Vaughn’s ass, watching Vaughn’s face for a reaction.
Vaughn’s eyes became wide and dilated. He saw a look of fear flicker across Vaughn’s face and he was going to stop, but then he saw Vaughn close his eyes and nod slightly. Sark took that as all the invitation he needed and moved himself slowly, part of the way in.
Vaughn’s face turned to shock. Sark stilled himself to give Vaughn a moment to get used to the sensation and then leaned forward to take his mouth again. After a few moments, he felt Vaughn relax a little, so he allowed himself to slide all the way in. Vaughn moaned as Sark filled him completely and Sark collapsed against his body, overcome by the sensations. As the intimacy of the act settled around them, Sark gently started to thrust inside of him. And once again, Sark’s eyes were drawn up to Vaughn’s face.
Vaughn’s eyes were closed and he was breathing rapidly with his lips parted and Sark watched the pain and grief slowly dissipate from his face, in the wake of each of his thrusts. And as Vaughn finally threw his head back in abandonment, Sark gave in to the mounting tension and grabbed Vaughn’s cock with his slick hand and started thrusting harder into him, mimicking the motions of his thrusts with his hand as well. Vaughn screamed as Sark pounded into him deeply until finally he came, releasing himself between their bodies.
The sound of Vaughn’s screams and the tightening of the cock in his hands were enough to shatter even Sark’s control as he thrust into Vaughn even harder until he finally felt himself exploding within him. With a sigh, Sark collapsed on top of him.
For several minutes, Sark could do nothing except lie on top of Vaughn, spent and exhausted. As he was about to pull out though, Vaughn opens his eyes and looked at him. Sark was pleased to note, that at least for the time being, the grief has receded a little.
Sark smiled and then carefully pulled out of him. As he curled up half beside him and half on top of him, with his arm draped across his chest in the narrow confines of the couch, he noticed that Vaughn’s hand still lingered on his arm. Allowing himself a small moment of surrender, Sark curled his head in the space between Vaughn’s shoulder and chest and relaxed.
...
As Vaughn started to snore lightly, Sark was finally brought back to reality. Carefully, he got up to grab the towel and noticed that a light was blinking on the laptop. Moving quietly, Sark crept over to the laptop and checked his messages.
Halfway through reading the email though, Sark glanced over at Vaughn. Almost without realizing it, Sark spent several minutes watching the rise and fall of Vaughn’s chest. He looked so peaceful that for one brief, wild moment Sark had to forcibly stop himself from going back over there and joining him.
Instead, Sark rubbed his eyes tiredly and made himself ignore the painful lurch in his chest. Long accustomed to controlling every inch his body, Sark willed his eyes back to the message. And though his mind was screaming at him to follow his heart, by the time he got to the end of the email, the act of compartmentalization was once again complete.
Fifteen minutes later, Sark stood fully dressed in a casual suit looking down at Vaughn. He laid the blanket that he had pulled off the bed, on top of him and then pulled open the small emergency pouch. Eyeing the sleeping man and taking into account the aspirin he had taken; Sark filled the syringe half full, tapped the air bubbles out of it and then quickly injected the contents into Vaughn’s arm.
Sark monitored Vaughn’s breathing for a few minutes, giving the drug time to act before standing back up. With the amount of medication that he had injected, Sark figured that Vaughn wouldn’t wake up for several hours.
Once he was satisfied with Vaughn, Sark turned, and with quick and sure movements, went back to the laptop. Grabbing the screwdriver that he had retrieved from the car, he started to disassemble the GPS, cell phone and laptop.
Using the frequency scanning chip in the cell phone, Sark quickly determined, much to his relief, that the chip in his shoulder was utilizing the new civilian C/A-code signal on the GPS L2 frequency. He had assumed that the CIA wouldn’t have access to the military GPS frequencies, as they were used only in smart bombs, but he figured he could never be too sure. Luckily for him, the civilian frequencies were not encrypted. Unluckily however, he discovered that he couldn’t disengage the chip completely.
Apparently the people designing the hardware had more sense than chemists making the hair dye, Sark thought to himself sardonically.
Pulling several of the chips out of the GPS and using the battery system from the laptop, he was able to solder the jammer together using a soldering iron that the CIA had thoughtfully provided along with the screwdriver.
Within half an hour, Sark had finished his GPS signal jammer. He didn’t have the equipment to test it, but he didn’t spend much time worrying about it. He set the jammer to the frequency of his chip and turned it on.
Then with a fluid movement, he picked up the papers that he had retrieved from the SAAB, as well as some handwritten notes that he’d made during his research over the last day and walked out the door.
Chapter 18 - The Raven
help me
i broke apart my insides
help me
i've got no soul to sell
help me
you tear down my reason
help me
it's your sex i can smell
Sark pulled into the back alley that he had been looking for, parked the car and turned off the ignition. He checked his watch and noticed that he was still a few minutes early. Slipping into his old routine, Sark spent the time looking around and studying his environment; plotting escape routes and debating exactly which approach would be best to take.
Before too long, Sark noticed a figure lurking up through the alleyway, so he got out of the car.
"You’re not Lezko," the man said quietly as he approached.
"No, and you’re not really a Raven" Sark replied calmly making reference to the handle that the man had used in his messages on the bulletin board.
The man’s face darkened and he asked impatiently "Why did you want to meet? What makes you think that I have anything to offer you?"
Sark remained calm and studied the older man in front of him. His face was mostly cast in shadow but as he stepped forward for a closer look, he finally decided upon his strategy. "At first I was going to tell you that I had been hired by Lezko to meet you; that Lezko himself had been detained, but after I contacted you the first time, I remembered that I had heard the name The Raven once before but of course it had been in Russian at the time. My old employer had been talking to someone else when she mentioned it and I just happened to be in the room."
The man shrugged. "I’m sure that you have me mistaken for someone else." He turned to leave but Sark stopped him by speaking.
"I doubt it, since my employer was Irina Derevko."
The Raven turned back around and studied him; his cold eyes boring into him. "And that must make you Mr. Sark, of course. I should have recognized you, but the light is poor and my eyes are not what they used to be. I still don’t understand what you want from me. My dealings with Ms. Derevko have nothing to do with you."
Sark nodded. "True. Especially since she gave me up to the CIA three weeks ago. But after I came across your name earlier today, I checked up on you. Intel that I uncovered led me to believe that perhaps you can help me out more than you could help out Lezko. Because unlike him, I would like to put a stop to the Covenant, whoever they may be."
"And what makes you believe that I want them destroyed?"
Sark allowed a small smile to curl his lips. "Because they tried to steal something you helped to create, isn’t that true?"
Now the man stepped back, his face showing the first hint of fear. "You don’t know what you’re talking about Mr. Sark."
"Because they forced you into this life, then? Because they stole your family away from you and destroyed another? Though back then, I doubt that they called themselves the Covenant."
This time it was the man’s turn to smile, though his was bitter and cold. "Well, you’re wrong in one instance Mr. Sark. It was three families that they destroyed. But who’s keeping count."
Sark shrugged indifferently. "They killed Irina’s daughter. I am in a position to give the CIA any information that could be used to shut them down. If you’re willing to help me."
The man looked around suspiciously. "Trust the infamous Mr. Sark?"
"Or trust the boy scout that I’m working with. His name is Michael Vaughn."
The man froze, his dark eyes glittering in the half light. "You know Michael Vaughn?"
Sark refrained from making a smart reply and kept his gaze cool, though now that he had played his trump card he felt more that a bit vulnerable.
The man reached into his pocket and extracted a disk. "Inside this are the bank accounts that the Covenant is using. I was going to give this to Lezko so that he could complete some transactions for them but if you give this to the CIA, they can seize all the funds. That will shut them down until we can take them out directly. Also, I’ve uploaded some files onto an FTP server that Derevko used to use. The password is 453s54r."
Sark nodded and took the disk.
The man stepped back and moved to turn away but then he turned back to Sark. "Never contact me again," he spoke quietly, his voice as cold and brittle as ice.
Sark nodded again and climbed in the car. He watched as the man disappeared into the darkness before he opened the envelope and looked through the papers. After a while he tucked them into his jacket and tapped his fingers absentmindedly on the steering wheel.
Finally, shaking his head he started the car.
Chapter 19 - An Issue of Control
it comes down to this
your kiss, your fist
and your strain it gets under my skin
within,
take in
the extent of my sin
Sark quietly opened the door of the hotel room to the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked. Barely suppressing a sigh, he purposefully continued to walk through the door before closing it behind himself. Only after the door had clicked shut did he casually raise his hands. Vaughn was standing in front of him, looking suitably irate.
"What the fuck did you do to me?"
"What do you mean?" Sark smirked. "When I took away your grief for a few minutes or when I fucked you senseless?"
Vaughn lowered his pistol and threw a punch before Sark could move out of the way. His fist connected with Sark’s right cheekbone and sent him reeling backwards.
But this time, Sark wasn’t confined in handcuffs, nor were there guards ready to slam him down if he retaliated. He quickly shook his head to clear the stars that were swimming in front of him and then aimed a right jab back at Vaughn. Despite the hangover he must have been feeling from the aftereffects of the drugs and the booze, Vaughn blocked the hit but left himself open on his left. Sark quickly changed tactics as he remembered that he was fighting a left hander and used his leg to trip him up and bring him down.
Vaughn crashed to the ground. But as Sark tried to kick the pistol out of his grip, Vaughn grabbed his ankle and tripped Sark, forcing him to land on his knees. With a quick roll, Vaughn managed to bring is feet underneath his legs so that he could launch himself at Sark. Catching Sark around the waist, Vaughn easily tackled him the rest of the way down.
Sark landed on his back with a thud, Vaughn’s arm’s still wrapped around his waist. Looking down at his attacker, Sark allowed a small smirk to form on his face as he revaluated the situation. A split second later, he retaliated by elbowed Vaughn in the throat.
As Vaughn reeled back from the blow, he dropped the gun. With the grace of a cat, Sark used the opportunity to break free and reverse their positions; except that instead of lying on top of Vaughn, he straddled him over his chest, pinning Vaughn’s arms to his side with is legs.
Vaughn looked up at him, furious and squirming. "You drugged me!" he finally exclaimed when it became obvious that he lacked the coordination to throw Sark off.
Sark nodded. "Yes, I had somewhere to go and you were in no condition to come with me."
"You used me. You...The only reason you did those things was to get away."
Sark shook his head. "If that was true, then why did I come back?"
Vaughn snarled. "Because I saw your jammer! You couldn’t deactivate the chip. All I had to do was turn it off and you would be dead."
Sark smiled and shifted forward so that he was rubbing himself on Vaughn’s chest. "I am mighty glad that you didn’t. Besides, I’m really starting to like this foreplay."
This time Vaughn used Sark’s distraction to unbalance him and knock him off. "This isn’t foreplay."
Sark smirked and tried to regain the advantage by standing but Vaughn was ready. Using the couch to corner him, Vaughn pinned him against it.
Meeting face to face with only inches between them, Sark looked into Vaughn’s face and then causally licked his lips. Almost like a trained response, Vaughn look down at Sark’s mouth and followed the movement of Sark’s tongue with his eyes.
"I thought you didn’t like it rough?" Vaughn asked; his voice suddenly lower and huskier than it was before.
"I thought you said this wasn’t foreplay?"
"It’s not."
Sark laughed. "And as I said before, I don’t like sadomasochistic practices. But I have no problems with a bit of roughness as long as we’re all on a level playing field. I was helpless before. Now I’m not. You see, it was just an issue of control."
Vaughn grabbed Sark’s shoulders, spun him around and slammed him against the back of the couch so that he was bent over the top of it. His arms snaked around his waist to unbuckle his belt. "But you’re not the one in control right now. I am. And I’m going to take you this time."
Sark smirked and turned his face to the side. "Are you sure I’m still not the one in control?"
With a jerk Vaughn lowered Sark’s pants so that they pooled on the floor. He brought his right hand to Sark’s neck, holding him so that he was still bent over and used his other hand to lower his own pants. With no shoes to get tangled in, Vaughn kicked his pants off and then brought himself back up so that his growing erection was directly lined up with Sark’s ass. Then leaning overtop of Sark, he reached over the top of the sofa to the discarded bottle of baby oil that had lodged itself between the cushions. Using his body to keep Sark down in position, Vaughn let go with his right hand and squeezed some oil onto his hands.
Standing up and repositioning his right hand on the back of Sark’s neck, Vaughn stroked himself to spread the oil on his cock and then took his slick finger and started to stroke the cleft of Sark’s ass.
Sark moaned as Vaughn inserted his finger. "Do you really think that you’re still in control?" Vaughn asked leaning over him and whispering in his ear, all the while moving his finger back and forth.
Sark clenched his cheeks. "I could always ask you to stop," he said through gritted teeth and Vaughn immediately stopped.
"Do you want me to stop?" Vaughn asked seriously, starting to withdraw his finger.
Sark shook his head violently. "No."
Vaughn slid his finger out anyway and Sark groaned at the loss until Vaughn brought his cock up to his entrance. Vaughn moved his hand off of his neck and with his right bracing Sark’s hips he started to massage the small of Sark’s back with his left hand while bringing the tip of his erection inside him. Sark responded immediately by pushing himself towards Vaughn and impaling himself completely.
Vaughn groaned at the warmth and tightness and watched as Sark clenched the back of the sofa so hard that his knuckles turned white. This time there was no teasing. Vaughn thrust into him violently and Sark met him with every thrust pushing back against him. Finally, as Vaughn pounded into him and came with a scream of release, Sark let loose another moan as he grabbed his own erection and jerked fiercely until he came all over the back of the couch.
They lay panting for a few minutes with Vaughn leaning on top of Sark, and Sark leaning over the back of the sofa. Finally, Vaughn shifted enough so that he could pull out of him and Sark lazily picked himself up off the couch and turned around. Wiping the sweat off of his forehead, and feeling drained and exhausted, Sark pulled his pants up haphazardly and then sat down on the floor, bring Vaughn with him.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, Vaughn with his head thrown back against the sofa and Sark’s turned so that he could watch him. Finally, as their breathing returned to normal, Vaughn opened his eyes and looked at Sark.
"I found some intel," Sark said quietly, reaching into his suit jacket pocket, retrieving the disk and handing it to Vaughn.
Vaughn took it reluctantly and then closed his eyes again.
"There are bank codes in there for the Covenant, I think that they may have had a hand in all this. Give this to the CIA and have them seize the funds. That should put a stop to most of their activities. Listen…I found--"
"This is so wrong," Vaughn whispered, interrupting him.
"What?" Sark couldn’t stop his mouth from curling in anger.
"She’s barely dead and here I am fucking you on the back of a sofa."
"It’s ok to find comfort where you can." Sark replied softly.
Vaughn shook his head again and stood up searching for his pants. "I don’t deserve any quarter."
Sark stood up as well. "I don’t either but maybe we can find some kind of redemption by giving it to each other. I’m strong enough to save you if you let me."
Vaughn looked at him and Sark could read the pain and confusion in his eyes. As Vaughn opened his mouth to reply though, Sark heard the sound of the door opening and immediately pushed Vaughn down as he whirled around.
By the time the door opened, Sark had his pistol out and trained on Weiss’ forehead. To give Weiss proper credit, he had his gun pointing directly at Sark as well.
Sark lowered his weapon first and Weiss’s eyes went directly to his friend. "Jesus Christ! Vaughn, what the hell happened here?"
Sark turned at looked at Vaughn. Luckily Vaughn had managed to slip his jeans back on, but Sark had to admit that he still didn’t make a pretty site. Between the drinking, the sedative and their violence a little while ago, Vaughn looked liked he’d been run over by a truck. Sark was also sure that there were red-purplish bruises visible along Vaughn’s neck from where he’d been biting and sucking last night. With a casual look around at the hotel suit, Sark realized with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, that it didn’t look much better.
Weiss spun around and glared at him. "Adams, take Mr. Sark under arrest."
The same agent that had helped transfer him to Camp Harris so long ago came in followed with a few more agents, and grabbed Sark. With no patience for niceties, they disarmed him and threw him up against the wall. As his arms were being handcuffed roughly behind him, Sark heard Weiss turn back to his friend.
"Mike, jeez. Are you ok? What the hell did he do to you? Where did he get a weapon?"
Sark couldn’t hear Vaughn’s response as he tugged angrily at his bindings.
Sark could tell that Weiss had turned back to him, because he could feel the agent’s breath on the back of his neck. Weiss turned him so that he was no longer up against the wall, and grabbed his collar. "What the fuck did you do to him?"
Sark smirked. "Your friend’s a big boy, trust me, he can take care of himself."
Obviously Weiss didn’t like his answer because he responded by slamming his fist into his already battered face.
Chapter 20 - Ring Finger
ringfinger
promise carved in stone
deeper than the sea
ringfinger
sever flesh and bone
and offer it to me
Vaughn approached the glass of Irina’s old cell and tried to force himself to unclench his fists. And though he’d been trying to mentally prepare himself for this meeting for three days now, he found that his hands were still shaking as the guard let him in.
Hence, the reason why he had clenched his fists.
For the last eight months Vaughn had tried desperately to avoid thinking about what had happened in Amsterdam. In fact, he had almost managed to convince himself that it had all been a drug-induced hallucination. But now, faced with the prospect of seeing Sark again, coupled with the distinctly nauseous feeling in his stomach and the tightening in his cock, Vaughn realized that he’d been a fool to believe that it had never happened.
Of their own accord, his feet kept walking, bringing him closer towards the cell. And as part of his body wanted to run forward and the other part wanted to do an about face and run away, Vaughn finally realized the depth of his self deception. As he approached the cell, he couldn’t help but start to crank his head so that he might get a glimpse of Sark quicker.
It wasn’t until he was standing directly in front of the glass though, that he saw Sark sitting on his bed with his head leaning against the wall.
Nothing had changed. Yet at the same time, everything had.
As Sark glimpsed his visitor, he slowly raised his head and got up from the bed.
"What did they do to your hair?" Vaughn asked quietly, though that wasn’t how he’d planned on starting their conversation.
Sark shrugged and rubbed his short buzz cut. "The black hair dye never came out completely so I opted for a visit to the prison barber."
Sark approached. "Are you ok?" he asked quietly while bringing his hand up to the glass.
Vaughn looked at the hand and felt his insides twist. But he couldn’t raise his hand to the glass, he didn’t dare. After a moment, Sark removed his.
With his right hand, Vaughn pulled out a pen from the inside of his jacket and twisted the cap. A small red light started to flash on the side of the pen.
"Bug jammer." Vaughn explained and then without thinking, he rubbed his face with his left hand. When he looked back up, Sark had a stunned look on his face.
"You’re married." Sark said quietly.
Vaughn looked at this ring and then back at the man in jail. He nodded. "Look, I just wanted to come here today so that I could put everything behind me. I’ve given in my resignation from the CIA along with my final report. I…I told them how you cooperated by giving me the name of the contact in Amsterdam and Allison’s cell phone number. And the intel that you provided regarding the bank accounts was dead on, too. We froze the Covenant’s assets. Analysis hasn’t been able to determine if they were involved in Sydney’s death, but they did confirm that they wanted some of Andre’s assets. I mentioned nothing else. Nothing about you or us anyway. I fought for you to get released from Camp Harris. They’ll keep you here as long as you cooperate with them. But I don’t think they’ll ask too much of you. Sloane turned himself in today…" Vaughn trailed off, lost in his thoughts. Finally the pen started to beep indicating that his time was almost up.
"I’m sorry," Vaughn continued quietly looking around the cell, his eyes finally coming to rest on Sark. "This was the best I could do for you."
"It’s not me you should be sorry for." Sark replied at last, the look on his face changing slowly to anger as his vision dropped to Vaughn’s left hand.
Vaughn saw the direction of the gaze and felt his own anger start to resurface. "I know what you’re going to say and you can shove it. I love my wife. She saved me. I was a wreck when we came back from Europe. I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t sleeping. I was killing myself slowly. And so you and everyone else can mind your own business. I love her. She loves me. I don’t have to justify anything to you."
Sark raised his eyebrow at the irony that Vaughn was doing just that. "No," Sark replied finally. "You don’t owe me anything. But you struck me as an intelligent man when we were working together. And though it was a tough lesson for me to learn, I stopped lying to myself ten years ago. I would have thought that a lesson that you would have picked up by now. You are such a coward."
"Look. I’m sorry." Vaughn said again, but this time in anger. "You can add me to the long list of people that have used you. And for that I’m sorry. That’s not a list of people that I cared to be counted amongst. But don’t you dare judge me and tell me that you don’t lie to yourself. You don’t even know who you are and you’re not even interested in finding out."
"I am who I am," Sark countered angrily. "But this isn’t about me. This is about you. Are you so weak that you constantly have to imprison yourself? Just because you can’t deal with Sydney’s death and you can’t deal with the thought of what happened between us, you go and bind yourself to the first woman you find?"
Vaughn flinched as the verbal assault hit him, but he wasn’t about to let Sark get away unscathed. "Fuck you, ok? This is about both of us. You’re the one that’s happy being locked up in your own mind! Maybe I just realized that none of us are going to live forever, so I should make the most out of what I’ve been given? Maybe I’ve just moved on to someone who’s actually available to love me. Maybe I want to demand for myself something more than just a fling with a man who doesn’t even really know himself?"
Sark scowled at him as the pen beeped three times in quick succession and Vaughn was sure he’d never seen Sark so cold and angry. "Go, Agent Vaughn. You’ve done what you came here to do. It’s a pity that you resigned; you’ve proven that you can hide your head in the sand quite well. Go and run away and pretend that none of us exist anymore."
Vaughn clenched his fist in anger but then he forced himself to release them. This wasn’t why he had wanted to come here. He now knew that he had lied to himself for eight months, trying to believe that nothing had ever happened, but now he needed some thread to prove that it did.
"You never told me how you came upon the bank codes," he asked, hoping to find some way to reconnect, even if it was just briefly.
But Sark looked back at him with his mask firmly in place. "Let’s just say that a little bird gave them to me."
Vaughn sighed in defeat.
...
As Sark watched him retreat down the hallway, his anger slowly dissolving, he was reminded of another figure that he had seen retreat into darkness eight months ago. They had same set to their shoulders and a surprising similarity in their gait. Sark leaned against the window so that he could watch Vaughn as long as possible.
After Vaughn had moved beyond his field of view, Sark remained with his head against the glass, thinking about the contact that he had met in the dark alleyway and he was glad that he had said nothing about him. He knew that it wasn’t over yet between him and Vaughn, in fact, he was relatively certain that it was just beginning. He just needed to have some patience while the world healed from Sydney’s death.
Moving back to his bed lost in thought, Sark couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face as his mind played with all the various pieces of intel. It was like a puzzle that he knew he could figure out if he ever regained his freedom. Curling his legs up on the bed he absentmindedly started tapping his thumb against his thigh. No, things weren’t over. They were only just beginning.
"It really is surprising how much you look like your father, Agent Vaughn."
~~~
20/20
Lyrics:
Chapter 1, 14, 16 - Bush
Chapter 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 - Violent Femmes
Chapter 3, 4, 10 - Aerosmith
Chapter 11, 12, 13, 15, 17, 18, 19, 20 - Nine Inch Nails
Chapter 17 - Trust
I want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god
Ten hours later, Sark let the water beat down upon his face. It was bordering on scalding, but he always liked his showers hot. He had just finished doing some isometric exercises and a grueling Pilates routine that Irina had introduced him to. And though his body was still sore and tired, he felt slightly more refreshed. His newfound peace though only lasted as long as he didn’t let his mind wander back over the events of the last few days. But then the exercises had been very useful on that front as well.
He was just wiping some soap from his eyes when he heard the distinctive sound of someone coming into the washroom and lifting the lid for the toilet. Sark looked through the corner of the shower curtain and sure enough, Vaughn had his eyes closed and was relieving himself, oblivious to the fact that the washroom was currently in use.
Sark was about to move his head back under the shower when a though suddenly occurred to him. "Just don’t flush--" he called quickly.
It was too late. Vaughn had flushed and the already hot shower became insufferable. Sark quickly pushed aside the shower curtain and jumped out.
"What is your problem?" Sark demanded angrily, water dripping from his body as he reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
Vaughn jumped back slightly. "Oh! Sorry. I didn’t..."
"You didn’t hear the water running?" Sark growled.
"No, I did, but I really had to go. I just forgot not to flush. I’m sorry." Vaughn put his hand up to his head and rubbed his temples.
Sark relented marginally as he took in the pained look on Vaughn’s face. "There’s some aspirin in the emergency kit."
Vaughn nodded and smiled thankfully. He was about to turn and exit when he stopped in mid stride and turned back. "I’m...I’m sorry about last night."
Sark raised his eyebrow and pushed aside the sudden hammering in his chest. "Which part? The kiss, or when you passed out on me?"
Vaughn cleared his throat and looked away. "It’s just...I can’t."
Sark’s smile disappeared as he tried to conceal his disappointment. "Can’t what? Kiss another man?"
"No, not that. I just...never mind. It’s just complicated," Vaughn shook his head and turned to leave again.
With quick reflexes, Sark shot his arm out and grabbed the front of the sink so that Vaughn was effectively trapped. "Why don’t you explain it to me? I’ve been known to understand a few complicated things in my time."
Vaughn shrugged but didn’t meet his eyes. After a few minutes of painful silence, he finally tried to explain. "Look, I can’t. I just don’t deserve to. I love Sydney..." his voice started to crack at the mention of her name. "Don’t you see? I failed her. I deserve to suffer."
Sark’s expression darkened severely as he grabbed Vaughn’s jaw and forced him to look up. "Bullshit," Sark spat out at him, gripping his chin tightly. "Are you naturally this dense or do you have to work at it?" He pushed Vaughn up against the cabinet.
Vaughn winced. "If I hadn’t dropped her off that night..."
"And if I hadn’t put Allison in that position, maybe they would both still be here. But they’re not. So you can deny yourself the comfort I’m offering you because you don’t want to sleep with the enemy, or you can deny yourself out of respect for her memory, but spare me the martyr syndrome because I have no desire to listen to your self pity."
Vaughn looked at him with a sudden realization. "Allison--" his brow crinkled in pain and confusion as he looked at Sark’s face as if searching for answers. "I didn’t think to ask if they’d identified any of her remains, or found anything."
Sark shrugged and took a step back, dropping his hand off the sink. Suddenly he was the one wanting to get away. Allison was just not a topic that he wanted to discuss.
Unfortunately, the washroom wasn’t very big and soon he had no choice but to look back up. "Yes well, I realize that she’s not a top priority for the CIA right now. I assume she’s dead as well, though why someone would go through all the trouble of kidnapping, only to kill them, I don’t know. Maybe the triggers didn’t work, I don’t know."
Sark tried to look away, but this time Vaughn reached forward and brushed his hand along Sark’s cheek. Sark desperately wanted to continue scowling, but the soft touch against his skin, slowly dissolved the tension.
"Things are so complicated between us," Vaughn sighed as Sark stepped closer.
Despite himself, Sark couldn’t help but crack a lopsided smile at Vaughn’s talent for stating the obvious. But with his heart thumping again back in his chest, he became determined to call Vaughn on the mixed signals he was sending. Sark leaned forward and let his lips brush against Vaughn’s.
Vaughn sighed again, his house of cards crumbling to the ground. He angled his head, allowing Sark to step closer while still maintaining the kiss, and then he parted his lips. Without missing a beat, Sark quickly took advantage of the opportunity and slipped his tongue inside.
Sark fought to control the sudden lurch he felt in his chest when Vaughn’s tongue pressed against his. He noticed that this was different than their first kiss, which had been mostly filled with nervousness and fear. Now, instead, there was also the element of pleasure mixed in.
As their tongues met, Sark was surprised that Vaughn’s tongue was not soft but rather insistent. But then, he’d gotten rather used to Allison’s sloppy kisses. Sark mentally gave himself a shake to banish those thoughts from his mind and settled instead on bringing his hands up to cradle Vaughn’s head.
Vaughn seemed to understand Sark’s demand for control because he moved in closer, following the lead of the hand on his cheek, until his body was pressed up against him. Finally Sark released him from the kiss and watched Vaughn’s face as he slowly opened his eyes and refocused on him.
"What do you want from me?" Vaughn asked him, desire plainly written across his face, though the fear was slowly starting to creep back in.
Sark smirked but refrained from making any comment. Instead he just grabbed Vaughn’s arm and opened the washroom door.
Sark heard Vaughn laugh nervously as he led him by the hand to the couch in the living room. When they got to the couch, Sark grabbed Vaughn’s t-shirt and pulled it over his head and tossed it to the floor. Vaughn didn’t object, though Sark could see his unease increase even more.
With his towel still tied around his hips, Sark forced Vaughn to sit down on the couch. Then without answering the silent question on Vaughn’s face, he turned towards the kitchen. "Just don’t pass out on me this time, ok?"
Sark returned a few minutes later with two aspirins and a glass of water, which Vaughn gratefully accepted. The apprehension around them was reduced slightly as Vaughn popped the pills, though Sark took the opportunity to debate with himself exactly what it was that he did want from Vaughn.
Unfortunately, Sark came up with no answers before Vaughn looked up at him and gave him a half smile that twisted his heart. Vaughn extended his hand towards him and Sark let himself be pulled down towards the couch until they were sitting next to each other.
"You know, you’re not as close-minded as I imagined you to be," Sark whispered to him bring a hand up to caress his face,
Vaughn’s half smiled turned towards one of amusement. "You mean because you’re a guy?" Sark nodded and Vaughn chuckled lightly. "Well, college can get pretty crazy sometimes."
Sark snorted and leaned forward to toy with Vaughn’s hair. "I never imagined you as being the sort of man that would experiment."
Vaughn gave him a wry grin and then leaned in to kiss him. "Well there are lots of things that you underestimated about me." This time Vaughn begged entry in to Sark’s mouth and Sark obliged eagerly. The sensation of Vaughn’s tongue gently exploring his mouth was enough to drive any further questions out of his mind.
When Vaughn finally moved back to get some air, Sark took the opportunity to move his mouth down to Vaughn’s neck and Vaughn tilted his head back to give him better access. Sark ran his tongue across Vaughn’s collar bone, taking in the salty taste of his skin and Vaughn shivered as Sark paused every few inches to suck deliberately on his skin until it turned red, or to bite it not so gently with his teeth until he left an impression.
Vaughn brought his own hand up to Sark’s arm and ran it along his smooth muscles. And though Sark would have thought that kissing was the more intimate of acts, it was actually Vaughn’s deliberate touch that made the heat pool between his thighs and spiraled the moment out of control.
Sark stopped his exploration of Vaughn’s neck long enough to push him down onto the couch so that he was lying on his back. Sark sat there and admired the flushed look on Vaughn’s face as he looked back at him. Vaughn’s nervousness seemed to have faded, and though the silent tension between them gave Vaughn an air of vulnerability, Sark was also struck by how strong he seemed. And though the thought should have been a contradiction, Sark sensed that it wasn’t.
Using his hands against the cushions of the couch, Sark leaned overtop of Vaughn, gently running his hands across Vaughn’s chest. He smiled as Vaughn shivered at his light touch and then Sark lowered his lips to Vaughn’s collar bone and started back where he’d left off.
This time though, Sark followed Vaughn’s sternum, tracing the path with his fingers and then following it with his tongue and his lips. When he reached the center of his chest, he brought his mouth over to Vaughn’s left nipple and flicked it with his tongue until it hardened in his mouth and felt Vaughn shift underneath him. Applying light pressure with his teeth, Sark teased him until Vaughn finally groaned and gripped the side of his face.
Forcing his head back up towards him, Vaughn hungrily brought Sark’s face towards him. And once again, it was Vaughn moving his tongue into Sark’s mouth and across his teeth. Sark’s breath caught in his throat as Vaughn caressed his back with his hand and Sark could feel his own arousal increase. Lifting his body up off of Vaughn’s for a second, Sark realigned himself so that when he lowered his body, his growing erection was rubbing up against Vaughn’s hip.
Vaughn immediately acknowledged the hardness against him by gripping Sark’s arm so violently that his nails dug in and left indentations on his skin. Sark felt the slight sting of pain in his arm, but it only made him press down even harder with his body. Vaughn in turn, gripped him even tighter, as they lost themselves in the sensations of grinding against each other.
Finally, before the jeans and towel rubbing together could chafe him completely, Sark pulled himself up on his knees, and paused a moment to catch his breath. He was pleased to note that Vaughn seemed just as out of breath, judging from the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
Sark let his gaze linger, admiring the muscle definition on Vaughn’s chest. Vaughn wasn’t overly muscled but Sark found the faint definition to be much more tantalizing than bulging veins and bulky muscles. Vaughn also wasn’t very hairy and Sark noted appreciatively, that Vaughn only had a fine covering of hair trailing all the way down his stomach; in effect, leading his gaze down to more interesting places.
With a slight smirk, Sark let his gaze be led, but then decided to take the same path down Vaughn’s chest, this time with his tongue. When he reached the top of his pants, Sark kissed and licked the little patch of skin directly above the button of his jeans until finally; Vaughn grabbed his hair with his free hand.
Unbuttoning the top button and lowering the zipper with his teeth, Sark heard Vaughn’s breath hitch as he teased him by breathing through his underwear. But apparently, Vaughn didn’t need anymore teasing.
"You could..if you move...take off my pants..."
But Sark just smiled and swatted away Vaughn’s hands that were trying to remove his own remaining clothing. "I think that since my current rate is half a million dollars, you should just let me proceed with what I was doing."
Vaughn’s head fell back against the couch with a small laugh. "I suppose."
Sark tugged at Vaughn’s jeans bringing his boxers down with them and pulled the legs off one by one. When the jeans landed on the floor, Sark gracefully moved back up Vaughn’s legs. Eventually Sark reached Vaughn’s erection but he skirted around it with his fingers until Vaughn started squirming again. Then he ran his fingertips delicately across it without giving him any friction.
Vaughn groaned in frustration and then redoubled his death grip on Sark’s arm. "What are you trying to do to me?" Vaughn panted.
Sark smirked and then lowered his mouth to the tip of Vaughn’s penis. He licked around the top and then breathed cool air on him. Vaughn cried out and grabbed Sark’s head with his other hand, threading his fingers through his hair. Sark smiled again at the slight pain as Vaughn tugged at his hair in an effort to get more satisfaction.
Pleased with the complete control he seemed to have acquired for the moment, Sark waited until he thought Vaughn was going to explode from the teasing. Then, he gripped the base of Vaughn’s erection firmly and took him fully into his mouth, but this time with no half measure. Sark relaxed the muscles in his throat and using his lips to seal in the suction, swallowed a few times in succession.
Vaughn arched his back and pulled his hair violently.
With one hand in a firm grip around the base of his cock; Sark took him in and out of his mouth with quick, short little thrusts, following the motion with his hand.
He could feel Vaughn getting harder in his hands, so he quickened the pace and held onto it for several minutes. Vaughn took up the thrusting himself, pulling his cock in and out of Sark’s mouth for several minutes. But after a while, Sark could tell that it wasn’t succeeding. If he kept this up, he would only make Vaughn numb. So Sark decided to try a different tactic. He pulled Vaughn out of his mouth and sat up.
Vaughn looked up at him dazed. "What?..."
"You think too much." Sark replied lightheartedly but Vaughn only looked at him in confusion. "But that’s ok. I always have a backup plan."
Before Vaughn could comment, Sark stood up and finally removed the towel that was just getting twisted anyway. Then he went back over to the couch and crawled overtop of Vaughn.
"Back up plan?" Vaughn asked nervously, suddenly trying to sit back up. Sark eyed him carefully, trying to determine if Vaughn was really hesitating, and then decided that he was.
Sark moved back and allowed Vaughn to sit up. He noticed Vaughn’s eyes take in his nakedness and Sark watched as Vaughn’s adam’s apple bobbed nervously, up and down. He gently brushed some hair off of Vaughn’s forehead. "I can continue doing what I was doing if that’s easier for you. That way you can pretend I’m her if you want."
Sark had said the comment out of sympathy and so he wasn’t prepared for Vaughn’s violent reaction.
"What?"
"I know I can never replace her. That’s not my intent. But I can help you heal. That’s what you said you wanted."
Vaughn’s mouth twisted in a mixture of sadness and outrage. "I don’t ever want to pretend that you’re her."
Sark nodded quickly in understanding, his heart suddenly bottoming out in disappointment. Of course Vaughn wouldn’t want to pretend that he was Sydney. He stood up quickly to find his towel but he didn’t get farther than half a step before Vaughn reached out and grabbed his arm.
"It’s not because you’re not good enough to be her." Vaughn said gently, his voice was quiet but firm. He pulled Sark back towards him and Sark let himself sink back down on the couch. "We both deserve to be more than just substitutes for each other."
"Trust me. You’re no substitute for Allison. You don’t stink of smoke." He gave Vaughn a half smile. "Our relationship was less than perfect."
Vaughn tenderly brushed a stray hair off of Sark’s forehead. "And you’re not a substitute for Sydney. You just caught me off guard before. I’m sorry."
Vaughn leaned forward to rest his head on Sark’s shoulder. Sark brought his hand up to caress Vaughn’s arm and they stayed like that for several minutes. Sark leaned forward and kissed him. "Don’t be."
They returned to kissing each other for a while, until finally Vaughn leaned back down on the cushions and invited Sark to join him. Sark lay half on his side until Vaughn scooted over so that they could both lie crowded down next to each other. Vaughn let his hand wander down until he tentatively grasped Sark’s hardness. Sark tried not to buck at the unexpected touch though it sent a shock of pleasure through him.
They masturbated each other for a few minutes until Sark made him stop. He maneuvered himself back up over top of him and between his legs. Sitting up on his knees, Sark leaned across the coffee table to retrieve the bottle of baby oil that he had discarded there earlier. He squeezed a liberal amount of oil into his hand and then generously coated his own cock.
Turning back to Vaughn, Sark moved his legs so that they were farther apart and then bent his knees to tilt his hips. Sliding between his legs Sark rubbed himself against Vaughn’s ass, watching Vaughn’s face for a reaction.
Vaughn’s eyes became wide and dilated. He saw a look of fear flicker across Vaughn’s face and he was going to stop, but then he saw Vaughn close his eyes and nod slightly. Sark took that as all the invitation he needed and moved himself slowly, part of the way in.
Vaughn’s face turned to shock. Sark stilled himself to give Vaughn a moment to get used to the sensation and then leaned forward to take his mouth again. After a few moments, he felt Vaughn relax a little, so he allowed himself to slide all the way in. Vaughn moaned as Sark filled him completely and Sark collapsed against his body, overcome by the sensations. As the intimacy of the act settled around them, Sark gently started to thrust inside of him. And once again, Sark’s eyes were drawn up to Vaughn’s face.
Vaughn’s eyes were closed and he was breathing rapidly with his lips parted and Sark watched the pain and grief slowly dissipate from his face, in the wake of each of his thrusts. And as Vaughn finally threw his head back in abandonment, Sark gave in to the mounting tension and grabbed Vaughn’s cock with his slick hand and started thrusting harder into him, mimicking the motions of his thrusts with his hand as well. Vaughn screamed as Sark pounded into him deeply until finally he came, releasing himself between their bodies.
The sound of Vaughn’s screams and the tightening of the cock in his hands were enough to shatter even Sark’s control as he thrust into Vaughn even harder until he finally felt himself exploding within him. With a sigh, Sark collapsed on top of him.
For several minutes, Sark could do nothing except lie on top of Vaughn, spent and exhausted. As he was about to pull out though, Vaughn opens his eyes and looked at him. Sark was pleased to note, that at least for the time being, the grief has receded a little.
Sark smiled and then carefully pulled out of him. As he curled up half beside him and half on top of him, with his arm draped across his chest in the narrow confines of the couch, he noticed that Vaughn’s hand still lingered on his arm. Allowing himself a small moment of surrender, Sark curled his head in the space between Vaughn’s shoulder and chest and relaxed.
...
As Vaughn started to snore lightly, Sark was finally brought back to reality. Carefully, he got up to grab the towel and noticed that a light was blinking on the laptop. Moving quietly, Sark crept over to the laptop and checked his messages.
Halfway through reading the email though, Sark glanced over at Vaughn. Almost without realizing it, Sark spent several minutes watching the rise and fall of Vaughn’s chest. He looked so peaceful that for one brief, wild moment Sark had to forcibly stop himself from going back over there and joining him.
Instead, Sark rubbed his eyes tiredly and made himself ignore the painful lurch in his chest. Long accustomed to controlling every inch his body, Sark willed his eyes back to the message. And though his mind was screaming at him to follow his heart, by the time he got to the end of the email, the act of compartmentalization was once again complete.
Fifteen minutes later, Sark stood fully dressed in a casual suit looking down at Vaughn. He laid the blanket that he had pulled off the bed, on top of him and then pulled open the small emergency pouch. Eyeing the sleeping man and taking into account the aspirin he had taken; Sark filled the syringe half full, tapped the air bubbles out of it and then quickly injected the contents into Vaughn’s arm.
Sark monitored Vaughn’s breathing for a few minutes, giving the drug time to act before standing back up. With the amount of medication that he had injected, Sark figured that Vaughn wouldn’t wake up for several hours.
Once he was satisfied with Vaughn, Sark turned, and with quick and sure movements, went back to the laptop. Grabbing the screwdriver that he had retrieved from the car, he started to disassemble the GPS, cell phone and laptop.
Using the frequency scanning chip in the cell phone, Sark quickly determined, much to his relief, that the chip in his shoulder was utilizing the new civilian C/A-code signal on the GPS L2 frequency. He had assumed that the CIA wouldn’t have access to the military GPS frequencies, as they were used only in smart bombs, but he figured he could never be too sure. Luckily for him, the civilian frequencies were not encrypted. Unluckily however, he discovered that he couldn’t disengage the chip completely.
Apparently the people designing the hardware had more sense than chemists making the hair dye, Sark thought to himself sardonically.
Pulling several of the chips out of the GPS and using the battery system from the laptop, he was able to solder the jammer together using a soldering iron that the CIA had thoughtfully provided along with the screwdriver.
Within half an hour, Sark had finished his GPS signal jammer. He didn’t have the equipment to test it, but he didn’t spend much time worrying about it. He set the jammer to the frequency of his chip and turned it on.
Then with a fluid movement, he picked up the papers that he had retrieved from the SAAB, as well as some handwritten notes that he’d made during his research over the last day and walked out the door.
Chapter 18 - The Raven
help me
i broke apart my insides
help me
i've got no soul to sell
help me
you tear down my reason
help me
it's your sex i can smell
Sark pulled into the back alley that he had been looking for, parked the car and turned off the ignition. He checked his watch and noticed that he was still a few minutes early. Slipping into his old routine, Sark spent the time looking around and studying his environment; plotting escape routes and debating exactly which approach would be best to take.
Before too long, Sark noticed a figure lurking up through the alleyway, so he got out of the car.
"You’re not Lezko," the man said quietly as he approached.
"No, and you’re not really a Raven" Sark replied calmly making reference to the handle that the man had used in his messages on the bulletin board.
The man’s face darkened and he asked impatiently "Why did you want to meet? What makes you think that I have anything to offer you?"
Sark remained calm and studied the older man in front of him. His face was mostly cast in shadow but as he stepped forward for a closer look, he finally decided upon his strategy. "At first I was going to tell you that I had been hired by Lezko to meet you; that Lezko himself had been detained, but after I contacted you the first time, I remembered that I had heard the name The Raven once before but of course it had been in Russian at the time. My old employer had been talking to someone else when she mentioned it and I just happened to be in the room."
The man shrugged. "I’m sure that you have me mistaken for someone else." He turned to leave but Sark stopped him by speaking.
"I doubt it, since my employer was Irina Derevko."
The Raven turned back around and studied him; his cold eyes boring into him. "And that must make you Mr. Sark, of course. I should have recognized you, but the light is poor and my eyes are not what they used to be. I still don’t understand what you want from me. My dealings with Ms. Derevko have nothing to do with you."
Sark nodded. "True. Especially since she gave me up to the CIA three weeks ago. But after I came across your name earlier today, I checked up on you. Intel that I uncovered led me to believe that perhaps you can help me out more than you could help out Lezko. Because unlike him, I would like to put a stop to the Covenant, whoever they may be."
"And what makes you believe that I want them destroyed?"
Sark allowed a small smile to curl his lips. "Because they tried to steal something you helped to create, isn’t that true?"
Now the man stepped back, his face showing the first hint of fear. "You don’t know what you’re talking about Mr. Sark."
"Because they forced you into this life, then? Because they stole your family away from you and destroyed another? Though back then, I doubt that they called themselves the Covenant."
This time it was the man’s turn to smile, though his was bitter and cold. "Well, you’re wrong in one instance Mr. Sark. It was three families that they destroyed. But who’s keeping count."
Sark shrugged indifferently. "They killed Irina’s daughter. I am in a position to give the CIA any information that could be used to shut them down. If you’re willing to help me."
The man looked around suspiciously. "Trust the infamous Mr. Sark?"
"Or trust the boy scout that I’m working with. His name is Michael Vaughn."
The man froze, his dark eyes glittering in the half light. "You know Michael Vaughn?"
Sark refrained from making a smart reply and kept his gaze cool, though now that he had played his trump card he felt more that a bit vulnerable.
The man reached into his pocket and extracted a disk. "Inside this are the bank accounts that the Covenant is using. I was going to give this to Lezko so that he could complete some transactions for them but if you give this to the CIA, they can seize all the funds. That will shut them down until we can take them out directly. Also, I’ve uploaded some files onto an FTP server that Derevko used to use. The password is 453s54r."
Sark nodded and took the disk.
The man stepped back and moved to turn away but then he turned back to Sark. "Never contact me again," he spoke quietly, his voice as cold and brittle as ice.
Sark nodded again and climbed in the car. He watched as the man disappeared into the darkness before he opened the envelope and looked through the papers. After a while he tucked them into his jacket and tapped his fingers absentmindedly on the steering wheel.
Finally, shaking his head he started the car.
Chapter 19 - An Issue of Control
it comes down to this
your kiss, your fist
and your strain it gets under my skin
within,
take in
the extent of my sin
Sark quietly opened the door of the hotel room to the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked. Barely suppressing a sigh, he purposefully continued to walk through the door before closing it behind himself. Only after the door had clicked shut did he casually raise his hands. Vaughn was standing in front of him, looking suitably irate.
"What the fuck did you do to me?"
"What do you mean?" Sark smirked. "When I took away your grief for a few minutes or when I fucked you senseless?"
Vaughn lowered his pistol and threw a punch before Sark could move out of the way. His fist connected with Sark’s right cheekbone and sent him reeling backwards.
But this time, Sark wasn’t confined in handcuffs, nor were there guards ready to slam him down if he retaliated. He quickly shook his head to clear the stars that were swimming in front of him and then aimed a right jab back at Vaughn. Despite the hangover he must have been feeling from the aftereffects of the drugs and the booze, Vaughn blocked the hit but left himself open on his left. Sark quickly changed tactics as he remembered that he was fighting a left hander and used his leg to trip him up and bring him down.
Vaughn crashed to the ground. But as Sark tried to kick the pistol out of his grip, Vaughn grabbed his ankle and tripped Sark, forcing him to land on his knees. With a quick roll, Vaughn managed to bring is feet underneath his legs so that he could launch himself at Sark. Catching Sark around the waist, Vaughn easily tackled him the rest of the way down.
Sark landed on his back with a thud, Vaughn’s arm’s still wrapped around his waist. Looking down at his attacker, Sark allowed a small smirk to form on his face as he revaluated the situation. A split second later, he retaliated by elbowed Vaughn in the throat.
As Vaughn reeled back from the blow, he dropped the gun. With the grace of a cat, Sark used the opportunity to break free and reverse their positions; except that instead of lying on top of Vaughn, he straddled him over his chest, pinning Vaughn’s arms to his side with is legs.
Vaughn looked up at him, furious and squirming. "You drugged me!" he finally exclaimed when it became obvious that he lacked the coordination to throw Sark off.
Sark nodded. "Yes, I had somewhere to go and you were in no condition to come with me."
"You used me. You...The only reason you did those things was to get away."
Sark shook his head. "If that was true, then why did I come back?"
Vaughn snarled. "Because I saw your jammer! You couldn’t deactivate the chip. All I had to do was turn it off and you would be dead."
Sark smiled and shifted forward so that he was rubbing himself on Vaughn’s chest. "I am mighty glad that you didn’t. Besides, I’m really starting to like this foreplay."
This time Vaughn used Sark’s distraction to unbalance him and knock him off. "This isn’t foreplay."
Sark smirked and tried to regain the advantage by standing but Vaughn was ready. Using the couch to corner him, Vaughn pinned him against it.
Meeting face to face with only inches between them, Sark looked into Vaughn’s face and then causally licked his lips. Almost like a trained response, Vaughn look down at Sark’s mouth and followed the movement of Sark’s tongue with his eyes.
"I thought you didn’t like it rough?" Vaughn asked; his voice suddenly lower and huskier than it was before.
"I thought you said this wasn’t foreplay?"
"It’s not."
Sark laughed. "And as I said before, I don’t like sadomasochistic practices. But I have no problems with a bit of roughness as long as we’re all on a level playing field. I was helpless before. Now I’m not. You see, it was just an issue of control."
Vaughn grabbed Sark’s shoulders, spun him around and slammed him against the back of the couch so that he was bent over the top of it. His arms snaked around his waist to unbuckle his belt. "But you’re not the one in control right now. I am. And I’m going to take you this time."
Sark smirked and turned his face to the side. "Are you sure I’m still not the one in control?"
With a jerk Vaughn lowered Sark’s pants so that they pooled on the floor. He brought his right hand to Sark’s neck, holding him so that he was still bent over and used his other hand to lower his own pants. With no shoes to get tangled in, Vaughn kicked his pants off and then brought himself back up so that his growing erection was directly lined up with Sark’s ass. Then leaning overtop of Sark, he reached over the top of the sofa to the discarded bottle of baby oil that had lodged itself between the cushions. Using his body to keep Sark down in position, Vaughn let go with his right hand and squeezed some oil onto his hands.
Standing up and repositioning his right hand on the back of Sark’s neck, Vaughn stroked himself to spread the oil on his cock and then took his slick finger and started to stroke the cleft of Sark’s ass.
Sark moaned as Vaughn inserted his finger. "Do you really think that you’re still in control?" Vaughn asked leaning over him and whispering in his ear, all the while moving his finger back and forth.
Sark clenched his cheeks. "I could always ask you to stop," he said through gritted teeth and Vaughn immediately stopped.
"Do you want me to stop?" Vaughn asked seriously, starting to withdraw his finger.
Sark shook his head violently. "No."
Vaughn slid his finger out anyway and Sark groaned at the loss until Vaughn brought his cock up to his entrance. Vaughn moved his hand off of his neck and with his right bracing Sark’s hips he started to massage the small of Sark’s back with his left hand while bringing the tip of his erection inside him. Sark responded immediately by pushing himself towards Vaughn and impaling himself completely.
Vaughn groaned at the warmth and tightness and watched as Sark clenched the back of the sofa so hard that his knuckles turned white. This time there was no teasing. Vaughn thrust into him violently and Sark met him with every thrust pushing back against him. Finally, as Vaughn pounded into him and came with a scream of release, Sark let loose another moan as he grabbed his own erection and jerked fiercely until he came all over the back of the couch.
They lay panting for a few minutes with Vaughn leaning on top of Sark, and Sark leaning over the back of the sofa. Finally, Vaughn shifted enough so that he could pull out of him and Sark lazily picked himself up off the couch and turned around. Wiping the sweat off of his forehead, and feeling drained and exhausted, Sark pulled his pants up haphazardly and then sat down on the floor, bring Vaughn with him.
They sat shoulder to shoulder, Vaughn with his head thrown back against the sofa and Sark’s turned so that he could watch him. Finally, as their breathing returned to normal, Vaughn opened his eyes and looked at Sark.
"I found some intel," Sark said quietly, reaching into his suit jacket pocket, retrieving the disk and handing it to Vaughn.
Vaughn took it reluctantly and then closed his eyes again.
"There are bank codes in there for the Covenant, I think that they may have had a hand in all this. Give this to the CIA and have them seize the funds. That should put a stop to most of their activities. Listen…I found--"
"This is so wrong," Vaughn whispered, interrupting him.
"What?" Sark couldn’t stop his mouth from curling in anger.
"She’s barely dead and here I am fucking you on the back of a sofa."
"It’s ok to find comfort where you can." Sark replied softly.
Vaughn shook his head again and stood up searching for his pants. "I don’t deserve any quarter."
Sark stood up as well. "I don’t either but maybe we can find some kind of redemption by giving it to each other. I’m strong enough to save you if you let me."
Vaughn looked at him and Sark could read the pain and confusion in his eyes. As Vaughn opened his mouth to reply though, Sark heard the sound of the door opening and immediately pushed Vaughn down as he whirled around.
By the time the door opened, Sark had his pistol out and trained on Weiss’ forehead. To give Weiss proper credit, he had his gun pointing directly at Sark as well.
Sark lowered his weapon first and Weiss’s eyes went directly to his friend. "Jesus Christ! Vaughn, what the hell happened here?"
Sark turned at looked at Vaughn. Luckily Vaughn had managed to slip his jeans back on, but Sark had to admit that he still didn’t make a pretty site. Between the drinking, the sedative and their violence a little while ago, Vaughn looked liked he’d been run over by a truck. Sark was also sure that there were red-purplish bruises visible along Vaughn’s neck from where he’d been biting and sucking last night. With a casual look around at the hotel suit, Sark realized with a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, that it didn’t look much better.
Weiss spun around and glared at him. "Adams, take Mr. Sark under arrest."
The same agent that had helped transfer him to Camp Harris so long ago came in followed with a few more agents, and grabbed Sark. With no patience for niceties, they disarmed him and threw him up against the wall. As his arms were being handcuffed roughly behind him, Sark heard Weiss turn back to his friend.
"Mike, jeez. Are you ok? What the hell did he do to you? Where did he get a weapon?"
Sark couldn’t hear Vaughn’s response as he tugged angrily at his bindings.
Sark could tell that Weiss had turned back to him, because he could feel the agent’s breath on the back of his neck. Weiss turned him so that he was no longer up against the wall, and grabbed his collar. "What the fuck did you do to him?"
Sark smirked. "Your friend’s a big boy, trust me, he can take care of himself."
Obviously Weiss didn’t like his answer because he responded by slamming his fist into his already battered face.
Chapter 20 - Ring Finger
ringfinger
promise carved in stone
deeper than the sea
ringfinger
sever flesh and bone
and offer it to me
Vaughn approached the glass of Irina’s old cell and tried to force himself to unclench his fists. And though he’d been trying to mentally prepare himself for this meeting for three days now, he found that his hands were still shaking as the guard let him in.
Hence, the reason why he had clenched his fists.
For the last eight months Vaughn had tried desperately to avoid thinking about what had happened in Amsterdam. In fact, he had almost managed to convince himself that it had all been a drug-induced hallucination. But now, faced with the prospect of seeing Sark again, coupled with the distinctly nauseous feeling in his stomach and the tightening in his cock, Vaughn realized that he’d been a fool to believe that it had never happened.
Of their own accord, his feet kept walking, bringing him closer towards the cell. And as part of his body wanted to run forward and the other part wanted to do an about face and run away, Vaughn finally realized the depth of his self deception. As he approached the cell, he couldn’t help but start to crank his head so that he might get a glimpse of Sark quicker.
It wasn’t until he was standing directly in front of the glass though, that he saw Sark sitting on his bed with his head leaning against the wall.
Nothing had changed. Yet at the same time, everything had.
As Sark glimpsed his visitor, he slowly raised his head and got up from the bed.
"What did they do to your hair?" Vaughn asked quietly, though that wasn’t how he’d planned on starting their conversation.
Sark shrugged and rubbed his short buzz cut. "The black hair dye never came out completely so I opted for a visit to the prison barber."
Sark approached. "Are you ok?" he asked quietly while bringing his hand up to the glass.
Vaughn looked at the hand and felt his insides twist. But he couldn’t raise his hand to the glass, he didn’t dare. After a moment, Sark removed his.
With his right hand, Vaughn pulled out a pen from the inside of his jacket and twisted the cap. A small red light started to flash on the side of the pen.
"Bug jammer." Vaughn explained and then without thinking, he rubbed his face with his left hand. When he looked back up, Sark had a stunned look on his face.
"You’re married." Sark said quietly.
Vaughn looked at this ring and then back at the man in jail. He nodded. "Look, I just wanted to come here today so that I could put everything behind me. I’ve given in my resignation from the CIA along with my final report. I…I told them how you cooperated by giving me the name of the contact in Amsterdam and Allison’s cell phone number. And the intel that you provided regarding the bank accounts was dead on, too. We froze the Covenant’s assets. Analysis hasn’t been able to determine if they were involved in Sydney’s death, but they did confirm that they wanted some of Andre’s assets. I mentioned nothing else. Nothing about you or us anyway. I fought for you to get released from Camp Harris. They’ll keep you here as long as you cooperate with them. But I don’t think they’ll ask too much of you. Sloane turned himself in today…" Vaughn trailed off, lost in his thoughts. Finally the pen started to beep indicating that his time was almost up.
"I’m sorry," Vaughn continued quietly looking around the cell, his eyes finally coming to rest on Sark. "This was the best I could do for you."
"It’s not me you should be sorry for." Sark replied at last, the look on his face changing slowly to anger as his vision dropped to Vaughn’s left hand.
Vaughn saw the direction of the gaze and felt his own anger start to resurface. "I know what you’re going to say and you can shove it. I love my wife. She saved me. I was a wreck when we came back from Europe. I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t sleeping. I was killing myself slowly. And so you and everyone else can mind your own business. I love her. She loves me. I don’t have to justify anything to you."
Sark raised his eyebrow at the irony that Vaughn was doing just that. "No," Sark replied finally. "You don’t owe me anything. But you struck me as an intelligent man when we were working together. And though it was a tough lesson for me to learn, I stopped lying to myself ten years ago. I would have thought that a lesson that you would have picked up by now. You are such a coward."
"Look. I’m sorry." Vaughn said again, but this time in anger. "You can add me to the long list of people that have used you. And for that I’m sorry. That’s not a list of people that I cared to be counted amongst. But don’t you dare judge me and tell me that you don’t lie to yourself. You don’t even know who you are and you’re not even interested in finding out."
"I am who I am," Sark countered angrily. "But this isn’t about me. This is about you. Are you so weak that you constantly have to imprison yourself? Just because you can’t deal with Sydney’s death and you can’t deal with the thought of what happened between us, you go and bind yourself to the first woman you find?"
Vaughn flinched as the verbal assault hit him, but he wasn’t about to let Sark get away unscathed. "Fuck you, ok? This is about both of us. You’re the one that’s happy being locked up in your own mind! Maybe I just realized that none of us are going to live forever, so I should make the most out of what I’ve been given? Maybe I’ve just moved on to someone who’s actually available to love me. Maybe I want to demand for myself something more than just a fling with a man who doesn’t even really know himself?"
Sark scowled at him as the pen beeped three times in quick succession and Vaughn was sure he’d never seen Sark so cold and angry. "Go, Agent Vaughn. You’ve done what you came here to do. It’s a pity that you resigned; you’ve proven that you can hide your head in the sand quite well. Go and run away and pretend that none of us exist anymore."
Vaughn clenched his fist in anger but then he forced himself to release them. This wasn’t why he had wanted to come here. He now knew that he had lied to himself for eight months, trying to believe that nothing had ever happened, but now he needed some thread to prove that it did.
"You never told me how you came upon the bank codes," he asked, hoping to find some way to reconnect, even if it was just briefly.
But Sark looked back at him with his mask firmly in place. "Let’s just say that a little bird gave them to me."
Vaughn sighed in defeat.
...
As Sark watched him retreat down the hallway, his anger slowly dissolving, he was reminded of another figure that he had seen retreat into darkness eight months ago. They had same set to their shoulders and a surprising similarity in their gait. Sark leaned against the window so that he could watch Vaughn as long as possible.
After Vaughn had moved beyond his field of view, Sark remained with his head against the glass, thinking about the contact that he had met in the dark alleyway and he was glad that he had said nothing about him. He knew that it wasn’t over yet between him and Vaughn, in fact, he was relatively certain that it was just beginning. He just needed to have some patience while the world healed from Sydney’s death.
Moving back to his bed lost in thought, Sark couldn’t help the small smile that spread across his face as his mind played with all the various pieces of intel. It was like a puzzle that he knew he could figure out if he ever regained his freedom. Curling his legs up on the bed he absentmindedly started tapping his thumb against his thigh. No, things weren’t over. They were only just beginning.
"It really is surprising how much you look like your father, Agent Vaughn."
~~~
20/20
Lyrics:
Chapter 1, 14, 16 - Bush
Chapter 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 - Violent Femmes
Chapter 3, 4, 10 - Aerosmith
Chapter 11, 12, 13, 15, 17, 18, 19, 20 - Nine Inch Nails