Title: Tainted
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: After 3.05 - Repercussions
Disclaimer: The character and Alias universe belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.
Summary: Sydney/Sark/Simon.

Part 1 : Mr. Self Destruct

i am the voice inside your head and i control you
i am the lover in your bed and i control you
i am the sex that you provide and i control you
i am the hate you try to hide

She almost lost it. She felt her body jerk forward as Simon kicked Vaughn down the hill, and all she could do in response was throw on a sullen pout and bite back the tears. She felt numb. The scene replayed in her head again and again - his shaky intake of breath in fear - his flesh giving way beneath the knife - the sick sucking sound of the wound echoing in her head. She knows she should be paying attention to where they are going because if she can't keep her cover, she's as good as dead. It was a simple choice: lose Vaughn or lose her sanity. The choice was too easy.

She feels Simon's eyes scrutinizing her. "You always prefer the knife, don't you," he says as Javier passes him a bottle of champagne. He pops the cork and sucks the overflow off his hand.

She grabs the bottle from him and takes a drink. "Why do you say that?" She knows it's time to focus, time to push Vaughn aside. She has been given the opportunity to learn about her missing self, and she has already paid dearly for it. She can't waste this.

"I don't think I've ever seen you take someone out with a gun if you have the opportunity to take your time."

"I like the knife. It's more personal, more intimate."

"Bloody hell," he says as he takes the bottle from her and knocks back another swig of champagne. "Well, you're damn good at what you do."

"You think?" She gives him a sultry smile, trying to draw him on.

"I know, I've seen." Now that the job is done, he is receptive to her advances and slips his arm around her.

She grabs the bottle back again and takes a long draw. The carbonation sticks in the back of her throat, and she has to fight not to choke. "Tell me what was my best kill."

He considers her question a moment, obviously enjoying their banter. "Definitely that time in Estonia. I've never seen someone so handy with an ice pick."

She suppresses a shudder. She hadn't even thought of that parallel.

"Really, how did you learn that trick? You never would tell me before."

"I had a mentor."

The best lies are the ones hidden in the truth. She has been so many different people, and she has learned to improvise very well. It's an unconscious art - the noncommittal responses, the skilled deflections, and the chancy direct answer. The situation should scare her but it doesn't. She's learning that there are many coincidences with Julia, or not so much coincidences as Julia's actions betray her darkest thoughts. She's always known that darkness has existed in her. And since Danny's murder, it has lain just under the surface of her skin waiting to claw its way out. Even now it's so very easy to slip in that vortex. She understands it, intimately.

A part of her has to wonder how Julia relates to Noah. She can still see him so clearly in her mind's eye and the what if's he brought up in her. Did she unconsciously learn the ways of the assassin from him? She tells herself she never knew his sideline. But did she really? Could she have known on some unconscious level?

"You mean that bloke they called the Snowman? He used to be real wicked with an ice pick. Real messy too. Not clean like you. No respect for his kills."

"You knew him?" She wonders at how close her pasts really are and what has prevented them from colliding before now.

"Not really. He got the drop on me on a few jobs." He pulls the champagne bottle back from her and finishes it off. "Whatever happened to him?"

"Maybe he decided he had enough. Maybe he lives on an island in the South Pacific, and makes love to his girl everyday on the beach."

He looks into her eyes and traces the curve of her shoulder with his hand. "Julia, you never struck me a romantic. Don't tell me you've gone soft love."

"Or maybe he fell on the knife of the lover he betrayed," she says with steel in her voice.

"You and him? The mysterious Julia actually admits to a past?"

"Got anymore champagne?"

He smiles slyly and lets it drop. He reaches behind them and grabs another bottle. It's so easy to let the champagne anesthetize them for the rest of the ride.

* * * * * *

Part 2: Closer

help me, tear down my reason,
help me, it's your sex i can smell
help me, you make me perfect
help me become somebody else

There is blood on her hands. It's underneath her fingernails, and she scrubs and scrubs and scrubs until her skin is bright pink, raw. She shreds the bar of soap with her nails trying to clean them. The shower was a convenient excuse to steal a moment to organize her thoughts. Still, the bile rises in the back of her throat, yet somehow she keeps it down.

She can't relive tonight's actions. She must lock them away and distance herself from Sydney. She must compartmentalize if she is going to survive this night. But without that connection to Sydney, she just feels numb. She wonders how she will go out there and face Simon, how she will confront the fact that they were lovers.

She can see why she chose him. He's sexy, self-assured, authoritative. Her mind may not remember him, but she thinks her body does. And tonight, her mind may be numb, but her senses are alive. It's a need she shouldn't want to acknowledge. The other night, she was ready for him, and she wouldn't have stopped him if he hadn't pulled that knife.

In a way, the whole night has been leading up to this. The voice of Sydney should be telling her to play coy and look for an escape, but somehow the voice of Julia overrides instinct for flight. Now that this moment is here, she finds she really doesn't care to stop it.

She summons the courage to become Julia, steps out of the shower, and wraps a towel around herself. She is about to walk into the bedroom, when he surprises her from behind and pins her to the wall. His lips burn their impression in the back of her neck as his hands assault her body, fondling her breasts, pinching her nipples, and sneaking between her thighs. Her towel quickly finds itself in a heap on the floor, and she wouldn't be surprised if she ends up there too.

"I've missed you Julia."

He wraps his lips around her name, claiming it with a growl. He says her name like he owns it, owns her, and its low resonance sends a knowing shiver up her spine.

"You've missed me, or you've missed sex with me?"

"Both I think."

It is destructive and sinful, but all she feels is need. She has been frustrated for too long. White-hot pulses of desire race through her skin and between her thighs, leaving her throbbing for him.

"That's my girl, you're so wet."

His fingers roughly tease her, sliding through her folds, and she sags against into naked torso, feeling his cock hard against her ass. Just as abruptly as his first assault, he pushes her to the counter, bending her over it, and she instinctively spreads her legs for him. He quickly unzips his pants with steady fingers and drops them around his ankles.

She feels him behind her, sliding in between her thighs and pressing insistently against her. He pulls her hair to force her to look at him through their reflection in the mirror, and thrusts so deeply inside her that her instinct is to buck away from the invasion. She would normally be enraged at the loss of control, but her need threatens to consume her. He wraps his strong arms around her, clutching her to him, anchoring her hips to his.

"God, I've missed you," he groans in her ear.

She decides old lovers really do make the best fucks. It doesn't matter that she can't remember him; it's obvious that they have still shared this bond before. All she can do is moan as he starts pumping into her at an unrelenting pace. She feels so tight and so full, stretched beyond reason. She didn't have a clue until this moment that this is exactly the release she has needed since she woke up in that alley in Hong Kong.

Simon slams into her with jolts that jar her whole body. The thrust of his cock is sinful yet incomplete. She needs more stimulation, so she grinds herself into the edge of the counter. She can feel his movements getting erratic, his driving rhythm starting to falter as he gets close to his release. She closes her eyes and gives herself over to him, letting him impale her.

He bites her neck as he comes hard and pulls her up from the counter just enough to force his hand between her legs and finish her off with a few well-placed strokes. With her orgasm she collapses limply into his arms, their skin sweaty from the intensity of their workout. It is over before she really knew it began, and perhaps it is better that way, no time to deny her past. No time question her actions or run away.

He brings her back to reality with a few tender kisses just behind her ear to soothe the flesh he had broke in passion. She looks at them through the mirror, and she barely recognizes the woman staring back at her. Her features are too sharp and overcome with lust. In a strangely foreign voice, she finds herself saying, "Damn, I needed that."

"You know there's more from where that came from, babe." The ferocity of their first fuck lessened, but the intensity is still there in his eyes.

He leads her back to the bedroom and sits her down on the bed. She moves so her back rests against the headboard and spreads her legs invitingly for him. There obviously hasn't been modesty between them before, and there isn't any reason to act otherwise now. She shouldn't want this. She shouldn't give in to him so easily, yet the voice inside her tells her to lie back - she will enjoy this.

He grins and crawls up the bed to her. He clasps her face in his hands and thoroughly kisses her. The taste of him is like déjà vu. She knows his exact flavor, and while she can't quite recall how she knows it, she craves it nonetheless.

"Babe, you're so tense. The mission is over now, let it go."

"You wanna help me relax?"

"I can think of a way," he says with a sinful grin.

He may have skipped the preliminaries before, but he certainly won't now as he trails hot kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and over her breasts. His lips latch on to ravish one nipple as his fingers and thumb tease the other. It doesn't take much manipulation before she boldly pushes his head between her legs, desperate for more. He is more than happy to oblige her, his lips searing her skin until he pauses at her navel.

"What happened to your ring?"

She wrinkles her brow in confusion. Not another damn ring. While she knows this detail should be important, she is almost beyond caring.

"Your belly button ring?" he says with his lips pressed against her skin and his tongue dipping into her navel.

Her mind swirls around this new detail about herself. She wonders how she could have missed this latest imperfection. Somewhere within she finds the right quip. "It didn't go with an outfit."

He breaks out into laughter, grinning at her. "Right. Well, I miss it. It was sexy."

He loves to play with her navel ring. His tongue flicks it back and forth, circling it. He wraps his lips around the ring and tugs on it, catching her eyes and smiling up at her. It is his ritual to tease her like this.

His hands trace her hipbones, pulling her back to the present. Lower and lower, his mouth and tongue slide, his teeth nipping at her skin. His fingers trail to her thighs, raking over her skin, and her mind buzzes at the sensations. He parts her folds traces a finger back and forth along her labia. His touch is so hot that it threatens to singe her skin. And with a wicked wink he brings his mouth to her. It's so fucking hot and wet, and his lips are so soft, but the stubble on his chin grates against her like fine sandpaper. It's so very hard to keep still.

Coherent thought leaves her mind. Her only focus is on how he is almost but not quite where she needs him to be. His tongue finally finds her clit, and she bucks wantonly into his mouth urging him to pick up the pace. He's so so good, and somewhere in the back of her mind this is more proof of how well he must know her body. He works her expertly, starting off with slow liquid, languid strokes, and then quick little flicks all the while increasing the pressure, and just when he brings her to the brink, he slows down leaving her mumbling incoherent curses at him. She searches hard for the presence of mind to issue a command.

"Need. Now. Don't Stop!"

He lifts up from his task, his lips glistening with her arousal, and he runs his tongue along his lips to torture her.

"Simon," she gasps his name.

"Julia, do you have any idea how delicious you taste?"

All she can do is writhe in front of him while he watches her like a proud cat who has gotten into the cream.

"Please!"

Just when she thinks he will never have mercy on her, he slides one finger and then another deep inside her. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes." She hisses. She marvels at how he is so in tune with her desire.

He lowers his head again to find her clit, and it's like electricity. The sparks are flying through her nerves leaving them raw and exposed. She's so close, oh so close, hanging on her sanity by a single thread. She doesn't think she can take it much longer, but he keeps on until she doesn't even know herself and finally sends her over the edge, setting off a wildfire of explosions in her mind. He rides out her spasms, until they slow down and then he attacks her again, letting his chin scrape her raw. She is oversensitized, and it doesn't take much. She comes again, shuddering hard, until all energy is drained from her, and she lies there trying to remember who this wanton woman is that Simon knows so well.

A crisply accented voice jerks her back to the present reality. "Now that's the sight of a thoroughly satisfied woman," the voice smirks from across the room and breaking the moment.

She drops her head back to the pillows and bumps against the headboard.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

* * * * * *

Part 3: The Becoming

i'm stuck in this dream it's changing me i am becoming
the me that you know had some second thoughts
he's covered with scabs and he is broken and sore
the me that you know doesn't come around much
that part of me isn't here anymore

Simon extracts himself from her thighs and looks up at Sark with a wolfish grin. "Enjoying the show?"

"Yes, it was quite decadent." Sark says with his arms folded in front of him and wearing a very amused grin on his face.

"Simon, it seems we have a visitor," she says finding her voice. She feels ruthlessly on display and desperate to appear nonplussed.

"Yes, I thought we could entertain our business associate. You remember how much fun we had in Bangkok."

She wrinkles her forehead at Simon slightly shocked by the idea.

The club smells of opium and sex and it threatens to overwhelm her senses. She straddles Simon's lap, grinding her hips into his, and she knows he can hardly wait to rip off her barely-there slip. She braces her arms on his shoulders and looks over her shoulder to throw a taunting leer at their partner for the evening.

"What's the matter love? You've always been game for a party."

"You're right. I love parties. I just thought I would have you all to myself tonight." She pouts for him and is surprised how easy it is to play the sexpot. It comes so naturally, and she gets the distinct impression that she rather enjoyed their role-playing.

"Ah Julia, no need to be selfish. I think you'll enjoy him. Let me introduce you."

She sits up and slinks like a cat stalking its prey to the foot of the bed where their visitor is standing. She tosses her long hair over shoulder, playing the role to the hilt.

"Mr. Sark, this is Julia. She's the one I've been telling you about."

"It's very nice to make your acquaintance, Julia. I don't think I have had the pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine," she husks as her mind is screaming to distract him; she must do something that he absolutely would not expect. She feels as though she is possessed as she watches her nimble fingers quickly rid him of his belt, pants, and boxers. With a poise she didn't know she owned, she turns her head to the side and licks her hand with one long stroke, coating it with her saliva. She takes his cock in her hand, giving him a few pumps and rubs her thumb over the slit. He is instantly erect for her.

He arcs an eyebrow at her charade. "Simon, you weren't exaggerating about this one. She's quite a find, but did you know -"

His voice trails off as she wraps her full lips around his cock. She sucks softly, feeling him shiver as she teases the sensitive seam underneath the head. She knows she has him when he brings his hands to her shoulders. His obedient silence and startled look will more than make up for the morals she is sacrificing.

Now that she has his undivided attention, she ratchets up the tease taking him in so deep that she can feel him against the back of her throat. She traces the muscles up his thighs, and one hand forms a steady ring around the base of his cock while the other kneads his balls. The skin of his cock is silky smooth against her tongue, and she skillfully worships him.

She knows he loves it when her lips are wrapped around his cock. It's the only request he had for his birthday, and she always takes pride in rendering Simon speechless.

He groans and threads his fingers through her long, long hair, pulling her roughly to him. She enjoys watching his calm and courteous exterior dissolve under her ministrations. He is vulnerable to her. She flickers her tongue along his shaft, and she can feel him pulsating in her mouth. Just when he tenses up she clamps down hard on his balls forcing his muscles into spasm but not allowing him the actual release.

"Fuck! What did you do to me?"

She lets him slip out of her mouth and grins up at him. "Now, I can't deny Simon his turn now can I?"

She is more than happy to turn the tables on Sark. Something deep inside her wants to see exactly how far he will take this charade. She wants to show him that he is a pawn in her game.

With his voice a betraying a slight tremor, he turns to Simon. "You were right. She has certain talents."

Simon moves to her and claims her mouth once again. When he pulls away, he licks his lips savoring the taste of Sark on her tongue. She turns back to Sark and finishes stripping him of his clothes and then pulls him into a playful kiss. Before he can fully engage her, she backs away leaving the two men to confront each other.

They regard each other with a challenge, each trying to assert his authority, and neither willing to be the one who will submit. They crash their lips together, their tongues dueling for dominance. It is fascinating to watch them accept her dare - two very fine male specimens giving themselves over to carnality and struggling for the best position. Hands rove roughly and pull each other tightly together, their cocks sliding against each other.

A devious voice inside her tells her to solve the problem for them. "Simon, I want to see you take him." She guesses Sark has dabbled around, but she doubts that he has ever been the subservient one.

Both men are primed. Sark glares at her but allows himself to be pushed to his knees on the bed and spreads his legs in acquiescence. There is a warning in his eye that he will repay her impudence in spades.

Simon grins as his hands raking over the muscles of Sark's back. "Julia, be a dear and reach into the drawer of the nightstand."

She opens the drawer and finds a bottle of lubricant. She catches Sark's eyes as she tosses it to Simon, enjoying the sight that she is just about to watch.

"Now Julia, I think Mr. Sark deserves a little eye candy," Simon smirks. He has called her on her game, but it doesn't matter. She won't back down from her dare and is proud to lean back against the pillows at the headboard and spread her legs wide open for them.

"Isn't that a beautiful sight," he asks Sark. He quickly lubes up his cock, shivering just slightly at the cool feel. He rubs his erection along Sark's ass.

"Yes, beautiful," Sark grunts as Simon enters him. She can see Sark wants to fight the initial invasion, his eyes developing a wild look. And while she can also tell he is uncomfortable and very unused to the intrusion, Sark rapidly loses his inhibitions to the indescribable sensations of Simon's thrusting.

The sight of them moving together is enthralling and her mind drifts off wondering just what her previous exploits with Simon entailed. His voice brings her back to the present as he locks eyes with her and commands. "Play with yourself, love."

His command makes her feel wanton. She struts in stilettos along the top of the bar in a strip club in Amsterdam. She pinches her nipples lewdly hoping to entice their mark sitting at the corner.

Her mind reels and she dips her fingers in between her legs to slowly tease herself. It doesn't take much to spark her arousal, as she is still feeling the aftershocks of Simon's talented tongue. She watches as Simon sets a rhythm and raps his fist around Sark's cock. Their pace is frenzied; their muscles ripple and their flesh slaps together wetly. It is a violent union as if she is watching animals mating in the wild. Their faces contort, and their skin is flushed with unreleased tension.

Eventually, Simon hits the perfect spot, and Sark comes first, messily on the linens, splashing up to where Sydney lies. Simon continues pounding into Sark at a blurry pace until he stiffens as he comes deep inside of Sark with a guttural moan. They both slump forward, Simon's arms wrapped around Sark. After they catch their breath, Simon withdraws.

It's Sark who recovers first and shrugs Simon off of him, having played the submissive long enough. Mimicking Sydney's earlier actions, Sark stalks over to her wide-open legs, and lays fully against her, skin to skin. This time he will dominate her.

"Julia, you must think us quite inconsiderate for ignoring you." His voice is dripping with sarcasm.

Her pupils dilate as the insatiable lust grips her again. She is not herself and all she knows is that she must satisfy this need.

Simon is spent from their activities and settles on the chaise lounge across from the bed. He bows out of this round but is still eager to watch the rest of the show with another bottle of champagne.

Sark catches one of her nipples between his teeth, tugging on the stiff and rosy peak, and then releasing his treat to soothe it with his tongue. She marvels at how baby soft, his short hair is against her skin. When she first saw him in that cell, she almost laughed at his buzz cut, but seeing him back in the field, she decided it has made him more sleek, more sinuous, more deadly. But while his hair might feel downy, nothing else about him does.

He rolls onto his side and slips a hand in between her thighs, immediately attacking her clit. His thumb presses down in short sharp strokes, which send her arcing against him. He looks positively feral as he demands her submission. His manipulations are maddening, and she feels her every muscle tense up as he pleasures her. It's too much and she finally gives into him, writhing under his touch as he steals her orgasm.

She leans over their balcony watching the costumed revelers pass by in the Venetian gondolas below. She does not care that he is playing with her so openly. Instead she is lost in the oblivion of his talented fingers.

These fleeting images keep drifting through her consciousness. None of them really stick, and she is left grasping at straws, not really sure if they happened or if her mind has made them up. But she does recognize the woman who would do those things. It's as if a side of herself she had always denied existed were playing out right before her eyes.

Before she can recover, he flips her on top of him and impales her on his cock. She is shocked at the invasion, but she doesn't hesitate and starts rolling her hips into his. He fights her to set the rhythm and pace but she won't give into him. She looks down at him and snarls, "You're the one who wanted me on top. I think you're beginning to like this position Mr. Sark."

She leans over him and pins his hands above his head, so she can control their actions. Still he manages to catch a nipple as she is draped over him, and he pleasures her with his sweet lips. She pulls back and rides him hard. Still fighting for the upper hand, he thrusts inside her so deep that he steals her breath away.

They both lose control quickly, frantically searching for a release. She has been on edge all night, never really coming down, and a well-placed thumb sends her muscles clenching around his cock. He does not give her any time to breathe as he slams into her, coming hard inside of her. He inhales sharply as he climaxes and she finally recognizes the S on his lips.

It all comes crashing back down around her. In that moment his startled expression blurs into the fear of another man's eyes as she dealt him what could very well be a deathblow.

The image causes her to shake uncontrollably as she realizes who she is again. Tonight she has experienced another woman's needs and desires, and it scares her how easily they became her own. The last thing she remembers before she passes out from exhaustion is the strong arms wrapped around her, anchoring her back to reality.

***

Part 4 : Eraser

need you dream you find you taste you fuck you use you scar you break you lose me hate me smash me erase me

She's running, running so fast and cold blue videos screens flash through her head. She must get out of there undetected. She must get out before they wake up. The hall is long and it stretches before her. She runs faster and faster but it only seems to grow longer. She finally skids into the door and reaches for the knob and there is blood on her hands. She doesn't know why. She opens the door slowly and she is back in the bedroom again. It doesn't make sense.

And then the stench hits her. Flies swarm over the pair in bed. She covers her mouth to keep the bile from coming up. There's a monitor in the corner playing an endless loop. She looks at the screen desperate to make sense of the images flashing before her. She sees a woman enter the room with an icy presence and approach the bed. The woman bends over and it looks like she is going to kiss the man, but instead she slashes a knife across his throat and covers his mouth as he tries to cry out. The assassin waits for the other to wake up, watching until the wet black blood soaks the sheets making sleep uncomfortable. Her second victim jerks up, and she plays the executioner again. Then the assassin hears someone coming. She looks around searching for a way out, but when none presents itself, she ducks into the closet. That's when Sydney sees another woman - herself - enter the room.

Stealth is gone, so the assassin breaks cover and lunges at her. Sydney moves to block the lithe figure with long blond hair. She must stop her opponent's escape and demand answers of the situation. She throws a punch and finally gets a look at the assassin. Sydney lets out a startled cry as she finds herself looking into her own eyes. Her doppelganger sees her confusion and doesn't hesitate - she draws the knife and slashes Sydney's throat. And the last thing she feels is the stinging searing pain and the warm sticky fluid as she brings her hands to her throat.

She wakes up gasping, struggling against the arms that anchor her in an embrace. It is morning, but she can't focus on her surroundings, only the soft fingers smoothing through her hair and bringing her back to reality. A reality where there is a naked man pressed up against her own naked skin.

"Sydney."

She stiffens at the sound of his voice not knowing if they are alone, and her head swims as she tries to order the swirling montage of last night. She is supposed to orient herself quickly. She is supposed to play the part, but her brain is working in slow motion, still trying to reorder last night's events and separate out fact from fiction.

"We have a few minutes. Simon went to get the package."

She wants to roll away from his naked body and gather the sheet to her, but she realizes it is too late for false modesty. His fingers are surprisingly soft as they trace over her arm. It is a sharp contrast to the rough fingers of the night before.

Her mind grasps at his words - the package. She looks at him in horror; realizing from his statement that above all, above everything else that went wrong last night, she has compromised the mission. She allowed a biological agent to fall into the hands of terrorists, and she'll be lucky to leave here alive. Any hope of retrieving the virus is long gone.

"Why?" she asks sharply.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He asks ignoring her question.

"Why didn't you expose me?"

"Well Miss Bristow, you provided quite an adequate distraction. You were so unrestrained last night, quite unlike your usual self."

Her mind flashes through a myriad of carnal sensations. She feels dirty, tainted. "Why didn't you give me up?" she hisses.

"Oh, come now Sydney, you are a worthy opponent. It's not going to be a Simon that takes you out of commission. Besides, I want you in the field. You serve a purpose. You make the game interesting."

She looks at him, confused. "So what happens next?"

"I'm going to walk out of here with the package. Simon will get his money. And I suspect you now have a new window to your memories. No one is walking away empty handed."

"I'm beginning to think my memories aren't worth finding."

He looks her directly in the eyes, and she feels naked under his scrutiny. She worries that he sees straight through last night's façade, straight into today's vulnerability

"That wasn't you last night, was it?"

She looks away from him. She can't admit how far she left Sydney behind.

"Sydney, I've never seen you like that, and I bet you haven't seen yourself like that either."

"Stop it." She hisses, struggling for control.

"Sydney, you're going to pull it together. I'm going to collect my package and leave. I never meant to stay here this long and I have appointments to keep. You're going to stay here, face Simon, and say your good byes. You'll have plenty of opportunities later to learn what he knows about you. It will be your choice who you share this information with. Okay?"

"Okay."

She knows it is deceptively simple, she knows she shouldn't but she follows his instructions anyway. She is just too disoriented to do otherwise.

* * * * * *

"Has she left?" He asks lurking in the shadows.

"About twenty minutes ago. Wasn't she a right party?" Simon asks with a satisfied smirk.

"You were right, she is very talented. But why do I get the impression you still don't trust her?"

"Something is different about her. I used to say I could determine her mood by the way she held a knife. But now, it feels like something has changed."

"Julia seems to be a woman of many secrets," Sark offers.

"Well I never doubted that. It's what makes her interesting. But this is more."

"You shouldn't let it bother you. A woman like her can't be pinned down."

"If she's working another side, it doesn't matter how good a lay she is. I won't let her compromise me."

Simon turns, agitated, and starts to walk over to Sark. But Sark has had enough of the charade and pulls out his gun and shoots Simon point-blank in the chest.

"Simon, I thought you realized. I am protecting her secrets, not yours."

Fini

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