MADRID

‘Where the hell is the Man when you need her?’ Gwen wondered as she ran down the dimly lit hallway, counting at least eight pairs of feet following. One had to assume there were eight nasty weapons to match. Almost made Gwen wish Sark was with her. Sark and a handy machine gun, or pistols, maybe even a slingshot. The man knew his way around guns.

Guns were never an option for Gwen, even in her gloved hands. And sometimes she needed at least one hand free to manipulate the electrical sources.

“Bodyguards carry them all the time,” Sark had told her once during a rare moment of small talk_ of what passed as small talk with these people. “We could probably work it out.”

But ever since she’d started working for the Man, aka Irina Derevko, Gwen had been pretty adamant about her work conditions: They gave her the assignment and info, paid her half, she stole whatever they needed and got paid the rest. Alone. Another player could slow down things, which was a bad thing when bullets flew by your side, barely missing you, and you knew you have to move and think fast to make. Of course, these were the rare occasions, like this one, when some hidden alarm would go off and armed guards would be ready to end your cat burglary days. It was a first for Gwen, who had a reputation as one of the most daring, yet smartest in the business.

Behind her, someone yelled, Gwen tried to make out the words, her Spanish knowledge suddenly forgotten, then coming back in a rush. Cierren. Las. Puertas.

Close the doors.

“Crap,” she muttered as she saw a metal plank sliding down the nearest exit. Guess every burglar had to channel Indiana Jones at least once, right?

She took the plunge, sliding out of the room, barely missing cold metal against bare skin. She quickly rolled on her feet and pressed her ungloved hand against a control panel next to the door. There was a crackle and sparks flew. A tiny smile appeared as she imagined eight angry men hitting the metal in anger and frustration, maybe even shooting in a vain attempt to open the doors.

Gwen was about to resume running when an idea crossed her mind. She gave the control panel a quick look, followed by a couple of short charges. The lights went off, and it would take a few minutes before the emergency lights kicked in. Not long, but it would have to be enough. She made her way to the back of the building and started to go up through the emergency stairs. Any guards that might come after her would assume she'd go down.

Her lungs were on fire by the time she reached the roof, but she couldn’t stop now. Phase one of this operation had gone almost wrong. She realized her life might depend of the success of phase two. Now if only...

The next few seconds seemed to happen in slow motion. The door Gwen had used a few moments ago_ unlocked, she had not locked it_ opening with a kick. The armed men storming into the roof. The helicopter rising on one side of the building, its glaring lights blinding Gwen for a few precious seconds. Seconds one of the men used to raised his gun and shoot. She could the shot among the storm of noises and light, feel the bullet hitting her body. She knew as she fell silently what was coming next.

It was the same guard that stepped forward, kneeling next to her and placing one hand on the delicate neck. He had to yell to make his voice heard above everything else. First to let them know the girl was dead, and second_ after going through her bag_ to let them know the artifact she’d just stolen wasn’t there.

CHAPTER ONE
LOS ANGELES
TWO DAYS AGO

Five seconds after meeting Darla, Irina Derevko had decided the vampiress was just ruthless, cold and evil, even by vampire standards.

It had been the beginning of a beautiful partnership.

Irina knew the base on their relationship was pure interest. Darla liked the power and resources the Man had at her disposal, things that someday could be used in order to reach more personal goals. And it was easier for Irina to work the supernatural underground with a vampire by her side.

Of course, trusting a vampire was not considered a smart movement. That was alright, Irina was used to defy conventionalisms. She’d already made herself a place in a world only men were thought of as successful. Never mind that she was known as ‘The Man’, that was just a necessary evil.

Now it was time to prove she had made the right choice about Darla.

Standing in the middle of her new accommodations_ a nice Spartan cell courtesy of the CIA, she replied to the guards and superiors in the same cool tone, same phrase every time she was asked to cooperate.

"I will only speak to my daughter."

It was only a matter of time before they realized nothing would change her mind.

Now all she had to do was wait for Sydney to come.

While not too far away, another unlikely mother went on with the next phase of their plan...

MADRID

Gwen was having second thoughts.

It had nothing to do with money. Sark had already paid her ten million dollars cash_ as a down payment, twenty million would be on her private account once the job was done. It wasn’t their clients_ Sark and Darla weren’t saints themselves, but Gwen couldn’t complain about people who flew her in first class, gave her an expense account and always made sure she could come back alive from their assignments.

This was about the job itself. Breaking and entering had never been a problem, she’d memorized the blueprints of the building, the number of guards, shifts and alarms. It was an average job for her.

But her gut kept telling her something could go wrong this time. And those were her words to Sark as she finished gearing up.

"You are not going to die," he had assured her. "We paid you too much for you to go dying on us."

In Sark’s language, those were words of encouragement. Darla had just waved goodbye and handed her a tube of red lipstick, always red lipstick to go with her black outfits. Tonight‘s lipstick and outfit were presents from Darla. Gwen was ready to go.

Maybe they were right, Gwen was just overreacting. Everything was coming up roses.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The guards looked at each other in utter confusion. Had the dead thief dropped the dagger somewhere?

The leader_ a stocky guy with a big moustache stepped forward and grabbed the younger guard’s shoulder.

"Move it!" he yelled, his voice barely heard above the helicopter. "I’m gonna search her myself? And YOU!" He looked at the rest of the men. "Check the stairs! It has to be around somewhere."

Soon they were all gone, except for the two guards next to the body. There was groan of impatience coming out from the leader.

"What the fuck are you still doing here? I said MOVE!"

Those were his last words. The bullet went through the middle of his eyes and he fell to floor, the image of the other man raising the gun at inhuman speed and shooting being the last thing in his mind.

Sark pushed the body aside and stared at Gwen. He gently turned her so she was lying on her back. Her lips were moving. Her voice was low, but he could read her lips perfectly.

"You... bastard... shot me..."

Chuckling, he helped her stand up and waved at the helicopter. It came down and soon Sark and Gwen were flying away to safety.

*****

"Aren’t you glad you jacket was bullet proof?" Sark asked Gwen a few hours later. They were sitting on a large couch in Darla’s apartment, sipping red wine. Darla sat on an opposite chair, examining the Dagger of Garaith."

"Perfect," she said, running her fingers along the intricate patterns of the sheath. "Good job."

"I almost got killed," Gwen said, rubbing her sore side.

"I told you it wouldn’t happen." Sark reminded her.

"You know, it might had been nice if you’d told me about this backup plan. Makes a girl feel safer."

"The plan depended on you acting surprised, besides," Sark served himself more wine. "You said it yourself: you work better solo."

"But you went in anyway."

"No way we can loose our most valuable asset."

Darla rolled her eyes at the exchange. "Why don’t you children finish the bottle? I’ll go take a shower and see you in a few hours." She blew Sark a kisses and smiled at Gwen.

The brunette watched her go, then turned to Sark, who was shaking his head.

"I don’t want to hear about it."

*****

Darla slid into the warm water with a sight of pleasure. There was a glass of blood and a plate full of strawberries nearby, and soft music played on the background. Almost perfect.

Who would have thought associating with someone like Irina Derevko could be so stressing? Sure, Darla’s work was inclined towards finding supernatural means and help, but Irina made it tougher, more demanding.

For the first time in years, Darla was having fun. She didn’t mind being patient this time. Irina’s plans were world-wide, but sooner or later they’d bring Darla face to face with her own personal interests. Like Angel, her nightmare, her former lover.

The father of her child...

She closed her eyes and pushed any Angel thoughts away as the door opened. she heard the steps, the clothes falling on the floor. Then felt the hand stroking her face, moving to her neck and under the water...

"Mmmm, you know what intrigues me?" Darla said, opening her eyes and glancing lovingly at her new lover. "How you can melt metal in your bare hands and yet the water doesn’t harm you."

"Luck, I guess," Gwen said. "Was it your idea to bring Sark and a helicopter or was that the plan all along?"

"Does it matter?" Darla gently pulled Gwen inside the tub, on her lap. "We got the Dagger and you came back in one piece. Everyone’s happy."

"My side still hurts."

"I’ll kiss it and make it better," Darla promised as they kissed.

CHAPTER TWO

LOS ANGELES

Every time he touched her, she felt her skin crawl in disgust. It was when Arvin Sloane used soothing tones and pretenses of paternal love that Sydney Bristow hated him the most. The day Sloane, The Alliance, and everything they represented fell in defeat couldn’t arrive soon enough.

"This isn’t about cutting off an arm of the monster. This is about killing the monster."

In such a chaotic world, Vaughn’s words were a safe anchor, something to keep her sane among the madness of her life. That and his eyes. Sometimes Sydney could look into his eyes and see promises of better times, comfort, even stronger feelings neither one of them dared to say aloud.

Maybe someday...

In the meantime, she’d just put on her best face and make Sloane believe her heart was into fulfilling each and every one of his objectives.

Like now, as she listened to Sloane’s latest talk.

A ’security firm’_ just a cover for a top secret lab_ in Madrid had been robbed the other night. Two guards had been killed; the body of one of them had been found inside a broom closet, naked. The second guard had been killed in the roof.

"What did they take?" Dixon asked. Sydney‘s partner, like everybody else at SD-6, thought they were serving their country in an undercover organization. Just another reason to hate Sloane.

"Something from one of the senior partners’ office," Sloane answered. "We’ve been in business with this company. There are at least five types of chemical weapons, vaccine and viruses, not counting the ones on development, that could interest anyone brave enough to break in. But they ignored all this and chose to go after something else. I want you to find out what was it. Not many details at the time. We do however, got this from a security tape" He pressed a button on the control pad in front of him and the video monitor came alive, showing a still frame of a group of men in dark blue uniforms rushing into an office. Between them even this good looking blond man could had easily blended in if Sydney hadn't recognized him immediately.

"Sark," she said, almost a whisper. Sloane nodded. "He broke alone into a highly secured building?" It sounded risky, even for Sark.

"No, he had an accomplice." He pressed a button and the image at the monitor changed. The person in this still was a little blurry, running. Sydney and Dixon could make a tiny frame, all in black. there was even a long black object trailing behind her. It almost looked like a braid... A woman? A more closer look revealed darkly colored lips and cat-like eyes. A girl.

"Who is she?" Sydney asked.

"Gwen Raiden, a cat burglar. She specializes in very rare articles and seems to have a liking for dangerous assignments. More importantly, is regularly employed by Sark. Besides this, little is known about Miss Raiden. We do know that, despite working with Sark, she still freelances for the right price. We’re going to work that angle."

The course of action, as Sloane explained, was very simple: Sydney would meet Miss Raiden in Mexico City, posing as a rich woman in the middle of a difficult divorce. She was to hire Gwen to break into the husband’s house and steal some important documents_ a team was preparing a house as they spoke.

"She’ll be captured and put in custody. A thorough interrogation might give us an inside into Mr. Sark’s new business deals."

There was a small pause, everybody’s eyes on Gwen Raiden’s image. No older than twenty five, the girl next door, yet Sloane introduced her as someone to be wary of. Once upon a time, Sydney might had been remotely shocked.

"The plane will leave in twenty four hours. That will be all for now." Sloane took a seat just as everyone else stood and started to leave to prepare themselves. "Sydney?" he said suddenly.

She stopped two steps away from the door and turned around. "Yes, sir?"

"Whatever you do, don’t touch her."

Sydney frowned. "What?"

"Miss Raiden. Never come in direct contact with her skin. There’s a reason why she’s both feared and respected in her business."

With a sight, she nodded and walked out of the room, Sloane’s warning dancing in her head.

*****

Vaughn thought about it, then shook his head. "Never heard of her before. And Sloane warned you not to touch her?"

Sydney nodded. "I heard of experiments to make a person’s skin poisonous to the touch, but never heard of one that actually worked. You think this might be the case?"

"Maybe," he replied. "Just to be safe follow Sloane’s instructions. We‘re going to pick her up before SD-6."

"Alright," she said. The easy part was over. Now came the pregnant pauses and longing thoughts. After months of working together, the feelings grew stronger, but remained unspoken. Just frustrating and painful. And yet the could do nothing about it. She looked away. "I went to see my mother the other day," she whispered, trying to change the subject.

"I know," he said, not sure what to say next.

"She kept asking about my arm." One hand moved to her wounded shoulder. It was healing fast, but it seemed to hurt the most when she thought about the person who had caused the wound in the first place. "She said she’d talk only to me, but wouldn’t say anything else. And I have absolutely now way to know if her intentions are good." No mention about how seeing Mother had made her cry afterwards.

"Maybe..." Vaughn was hesitant. "What if the questions were more mission oriented? Something specific might give us a few details."

"You mean something like..."

*****

"Who is Gwen Raiden?"

A tiny smile adorned Irina’s face. "A self appointed ‘freak’. But don’t call her that, she likes to use it herself.

"I’m meeting her in a few hours. What can you tell me about her?"

Irina seemed almost concerned. "Don’t touch her, don’t play games with her and don’t try to set her against Sark."

"What’s their relation?" Sydney asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Complicated," Irina said. "And since Sark is taking over my work, I have a feeling she’ll be a regular."

"A cat burglar inside your circle? " Sydney tried hard not to scoff.

"Is not my circle anymore, and she’s special." She walked away from the glass wall and sat on her plain cot. "Don’t mention my name if you don’t want to blow your cover." She placed her hands on her knees and closed her eyes. This was her way of saying the meeting was over.

Sydney started to leave and, for the second time in the day, she was stopped by one unusual phrase.

"Be careful."

This time, Sydney didn’t turn around nor replied. She walked away trying to ignore the concern she’d thought she’d heard on her mother’s voice.

CHAPTER THREE

MEXICO CITY

The moment Gwen arrived to her suite, she took out her cell phone, dialed a number she’d memorized before leaving Madrid and waited.

"How was your flight?" Darla said as a greeting.

"Bumpy," Gwen replied. "What now?"

"Nothing has changed. If we need your services again we’ll contact you." Cool and professional. Hard to believe Gwen had spent five blissful hours in this woman’s arms, all hungry kisses and passionate caresses.

"I’ll be meeting a client tonight. Afterwards it’s all about Margaritas and chalupas." She paused, planning her next words. "Maybe..."

"I’m on my way to the airport," Darla cut her off. "Florence. Perhaps a little sightseeing as well. It’s been a while."

"Right." Gwen did her best to conceal her disappointment. Of course she knew it was a long shot. After all, Darla’s goal was this, her long term pet project. It was a trait shared with both Sark and Irina_ Gwen had met ‘The Man’ only twice, but it was enough to notice the kind of person Irina was: ruthless, smart and tough. Probably with a soft edge she kept hidden in order to stay alive. Just like the others. "I’ll guess I’ll talk to you later this week or something. Sark said something about a job in Barcelona."

"I’ll call you," Darla promised. Her tone was softer, less professional.

"Okay, take care," Gwen said before hanging up. She looked around her hotel suite with a sight. She had two hours, enough time to get ready. At least job would keep her mind occupied, away from mental pictures of golden hair and wicked smiles.

*****

MADRID

"Is that a hint of a emotion I’m sensing?" Sark asked as he picked the bag next to Darla. "Wrongly focused emotions are weaknesses, right? You taught me that."

The vampiress looked away from the phone and gave the boy a look.

"You should finish packing," she said coolly.

"Done."

Darla nodded and stood. "I’ll leave first."

"We’ll meet on the plane, then?" The pause that followed made Sark frown for a second. "You are traveling alone."

"I can do this by myself. I need you to do something for me."

"Where am I going?"

"Los Angeles."

*****

MEXICO CITY

Sydney sat at a far corner table, a chilled margarita in her right hand. As much as she tried to blend in her simple black dress and strappy heels, she could feel the eyes of half the patrons admiring her. She ignored them and played the part of the cool socialite. Dixon checked in every five minutes, but hearing his voice made Sydney feel uneasy since their talk on the plane.

"You look troubled," he’d said gently. "Are you okay?"

She’d nodded. "A little tired. I hope we get the weekend off."

"That’s good. You could spend time with your friends. Go out, meet people. It’s not good being lonely."

The rest of the flight had been silent. Sydney had known Dixon wasn’t talking just about her friends. Ever since Danny and Noah, she’d been particularly quiet about her personal life. Her excuse _the one she gave to everyone_ was simple: After everything that had happened, she’d rather be on her own for a time.

Which was half true after all. Her life was just complicated enough to think about love. Or Vaughn. Or both.

At exactly ten o’clock, according to Sydney’s golden wristwatch, Gwen Raiden arrived.

In person, she look even smaller, almost childish. But the brief illusion disappeared as she made her way across the crowded restaurant. Black leather clinged to her flesh like a second skin, the whole outfit looking oddly fresh in such a hot night. Breaking the monochromatic ensemble, she wore a red band around her neck, the exact same tone as her lipstick.

She took a seat apposite Sydney and placed her gloved hands_ black, not leather, but Sydney couldn’t identify the fabric_ on the table, fingers entwining.

"Buenas noches, Mrs. Morales," she said. "I’m Gwen." She turned towards an approaching waiter, ordered a red coat and waited for him to go before talking again. "I was told you had a job for me?"

"That’s right," she said after a few seconds. "Arthur Moore said I could trust you." Half true: Arthur Moore, an arms dealer, had been recently captured by SD-6 and supplied them with what little info they had on Gwen. Sydney weaved her simple tale of embittered husband and important documents. The tiny cat burglar listened closely. Just as Sydney finished, the waiter arrived with Gwen’s drink.

"I can do it," Gwen said after the waiter was gone and she had taken a sip of her drink. "Did Mr. Moore told you what I would need?"

"Blueprints of the house, security system information, guard shifts. Plus 20 thousand up front." Sydney pulled a medium size envelope from her bag and handed it to the other woman. "Everything you’ll need is in here." She placed her hand on the table, close to Gwen’s. The gloved hand moved away. So far, this was her only sign of any uneasiness. Otherwise, she was a professional in head to toe leather.

"I’ll contact you in 24 hours with the results," Gwen said standing up. "If everything goes well, you’ll pay me the rest, plus any fees I may incur during the job. I give you what you asked for and everybody’s happy." Her grin widened. "Well, except your husband."

Sydney smiled and nodded, watching Gwen turned around and head for the exit.

"She’s leaving," She told Dixon, heard his response, turned off her SD-6 comm, placed a few bills on the table and quietly followed the younger girl.

"I’m tailing her," she told Vaughn on her other comm.

"The team is ready," Vaughn told her, his eyes set on the monitor in front of him. Three men stood near the restaurant’s entrance. they wore simple valet clothes, except for the dark leather gloves. Simple protection against a woman’s skin. So far, everything seemed to be going okay.

Suddenly he heard Gwen Raiden’s on the intercom.

"Are you following me?"

*****

Sydney’s hesitation lasted a fraction of a second. She had not expected Gwen to stop just in front of the exit, turn around and walk towards Sydney, suspicion marring her pretty features.

"I’m going to the bathroom," she said, her head nodding towards a large red door a few feet away from them. The word ‘Damas’ was written across the Smooth surface with elaborated black and white letters.

"And the one that’s, like, twenty steps behind your table is not good enough?"

Damn.

"Oh," Sydney faked surprised. She looked around nervously, an idea forming in her mind. "I didn’t notice." She took a deep breath. "Look, the thing is, I’ve been a wreck all day. I wasn’t even sure about coming. If my husband ever found out..." Her eyes moistened a little.

Apparently, it had worked, because now Gwen was giving her a softer look as she lead Sydney to the bar and ordered two margaritas.

"It’s okay," she’d said after their drinks were served. "I do this kind of stuff a lot... or enough to know everything will come out perfect. Still, if you want to back out..." Sydney shook her head. "Good, then let’s make a toast. To horrible husbands, and the women who rip them off."

They clinked their glasses and drank in silence. Sydney couldn’t help her smile now. This girl’s attitude was contagious.

"Thanks, Gwen. This means a lot to me."

It seemed like the right thing to say at the time, but it made Gwen’s eyes widen and her cheeks go pink for a second.

"I have a girlfriend."

Okay, this was a first for Sydney. Despite the varied nature of her assignments, she’d never had to hit on another woman before. And now, she’d done it by accident, by trying to show she was looking forward to Gwen’s work. The true feelings_ surprise and awkwardness_ were more than appropriated for the occasion. Plus, they would probably make Miss Raiden head out faster.

"Oh!" A hand went up to cover Sydney’s mouth. "I’m sorry! You thought I was... Oh, God. I didn’t..." She placed her unfinished drink on the bar and sighted. "I..."

"Don’t worry at all." the reply sounded sincere. "My bad." She finished her margarita and almost dropped the cup as she put it down on the edge of the bar. "I’ll have the papers tomorrow." With those words she ran off.

Sydney sighted in relief. She told Vaughn Gwen was out before turning to the bar to pick up her drink, taking one long gulp. As she was putting it down, she found herself staring at another woman’s face. This one looked just as embarrassed as Sydney, flustered and almost smiling.

She almost laughed out loud one second later, after realizing it was her own reflection in the bar’s mirror.

*****

*That wasn’t embarrassing,* Gwen thought sarcastically as she walked away. *And where did that come from? Is not like Darla’s and I are married or anything. Sure, sometimes I wish she was more effusive, but hello? Vampire! She‘s not exactly too open about her feelings, if there are any...*

She shook her head at her train of thought, waving off an approaching valet. She was finally out, the warm night air putting her in a mood. Behind her, the valet didn’t seen to be stopping.

"No car," she said, not bothering with Spanish. Closer now, his hands raising towards her...

"HEY!" she called out and turned around, the harsh words dying as she realized she wasn’t being followed by a valet.

TBC