Probably my favorite Sarkney piece to date. I love pregnant Sydney and wish more than anything that they had given us more Sarkney scenes with her big belly between them. I would love to hear opinions on this fic If anyone is still active in the fandom. I own nothing and mean no harm.

All roads had led to a quiet town in the heart of Chesapeake country. For the second Saturday of the month the main street was closed off, allowing the locals to descend en masse, to eat and drink until their bellies burst.

The community tradition had drawn her out as well. The need to know, to see with his own eyes had consumed him for 40 days and nights. Unable to tear his eyes away from the truth, he stepped away from the store front and after her.

With a thankful smile she took her purchases and headed back outside. Sighing, she turned right and began weaving around huddled families and yelling teens. Before she had entered the store she had felt it, the cold had crept up her spine, signaling the studious eyes of someone on her.

Hoping she had only imagined it, she was only half surprised and completely disappointed when the same sensation washed over her upon her exit. Slipping into an alley separating store fronts from parking she stepped into the shadows, gun drawn, and waited.

Time had changed her, but she was still the best. The admission had him drawing his gun as he stepped into the alley after her.

A dozen questions ran through her head as the figure emerged before her. Taking aim, finding a home just between the shoulder blades, she stepped forward. Having alerted her pursuer as to her exact location, words simply died on her lips when they turned.

Of all the people she had thought would be her first contact after so many months, he had not even crossed her mind. Then again, he had always been unpredictable.

Not bothering to raise his weapon, he took her moment of confusion to study her. Not able to stop the smirk that spread across his face as her confusion turned into that famous Bristow fury.

Dark clothes disguised the severity of her pregnancy rather than its existence, her hair was as long as it had been during an accidental meeting at Walker's place. Why he had held his tongue then was still a mystery, but then again Julia Thorne had been Simon's problem, not his.

"How did you find me?"

Biting back a laugh, he took a cautious step towards her. In all her surprised anger she was as beautiful as he ever remembered her being. What perplexed him was the fire boiling his blood from simply looking at her.

"I looked."

Blinking at his reply, she adjusted her grip on the gun. So he had looked for her. That told her nothing and he knew it. Rather than giving into the impulse to shoot him in the knee, she took a deep breath.

"Why?"

Why? Shrugging, he made a show of holstering his weapon, knowing the action would unsettle her as much as any of his words. Clasping his hands behind him, he did not hesitate to take another lazy step closer.

"I wanted to see if the rumors were true."

How could she have forgotten how absolutely infuriating he was. Distracted by his movement, she willed her feet not to move, concentrating instead on cocking back the hammer of her gun.

Catching a whiff of his cologne, something dark and wholly Sark, she realized she didn't want to kill him. Why couldn't he just go away? Take his piercing blue gaze and leave her to pretend that none of this had happened.

"You've gotten what you want. Now walk away."

The changing color of her hair under the street lamp was keeping his mind preoccupied. When he felt her gun press into his chest he frowned down at her hand. It then registered what she had just said. How could she possibly know what it was he wanted when even he had to admit his needs were changing each moment he stood closer to her.

"Now, Sydney. How do you know what it is that I desire?"

Sydney. The name sounded strange after so long under an alias. Tired of whatever game he was playing she pushed a little harder into his chest, her free hand bumping into his leg.

"I won't let you kill me Sark."

Had she ever moved so fast? From behind her she felt him press the gun into her already sensitive kidneys. Frozen, incredulous that he had disarmed her so easily, she flinched when his hand hovered over the swell of her belly.

"If I wanted to kill you. You would be dead already."

Eyes closing as his feather light touch began to stroke the sensitive skin of her stomach. The touch, as wrong as it was, awoke something in her. Time had left her alone, so alone, and his touch was a stark reminder of all that she had gone without.

Pressing against her, he was unable to stop himself; his hand seemed to have taken on a life of its own. With curious eyes, he watched as his palms circled over the swollen flesh. Through the layers of clothes, he could feel her warmth seeping into his skin.

Kill her? Breathing in the citrus scent of her hair, he couldn't imagine why he would ever do such a thing. Right now he simply wanted to be closer. Slipping the gun into his pocket, he replaced cold steel with another warm palm.

This could not be happening. Moments ago she was shopping, enjoying a night out. Leaning back into his embrace, she felt his right hand begin a path over her hip, joining its mate. He was unarmed, she should act, make him bleed for his liberties, but he was warm.

Funny, she had always thought him to be cold. His icy exterior betrayed none of the warmth he was now pouring into her. A simple touch was melting the walls built up over past weeks and months. With just a flick of his wrist he had re-awoken desperations she could not afford.

In all of his musings he had not imagined their reunion going quite like this. Arms full of the woman he had never imagined being this close to again, he found himself loathe releasing her. As her head fell against his shoulder, a hint of pale skin caught his eye. Pressing a kiss to the faint hollow that had captivated him, he waited for her retribution.

A chill ran the length of her and she forgot momentarily where she was. When had such a chaste kiss caused a blood rush to the head? When had Sark been the one to kiss her? Hands fisted and pressed just so on his stomach would end this, it would be as normal for her as breathing, but then he would be gone. Taking his warmth and kisses with him.

He wanted her, was aroused by her. That revelation was not lost on her. The feelings running through her now belonged to woman she had not known for a long time. A woman with pink hair and tequila breath.

This could not go on. Moments were passing, moments that was spent learning the taste of her skin. Her silence encouraged him. Sliding his hands upwards, plotting their course through hazy eyes, he cupped her delicious breasts. Breeding, it seemed, had some wonderful side effects. Cupping each mound firmly, he whispered into her hair.

"'I can ease your pain'."

A request? A demand? She didn't know anymore. Her body was screaming at her, electricity was shooting through her arms and legs, distracting her from thinking. Or maybe it was the soft tugging on her breasts. Where there was no where left to go, you go where you know.

Leaning against him, allowing him to absorb some of the weight she carried; she pressed her face into his neck. The soft wool of his black pea coat tickled her nose, but she ignored it, focusing instead on the teasing scent of his skin.

Seconds passed, lives were begun and ended, but neither moved. Lost in the feel of someone so close, they had no reason to hear the peals of laughter or the sirens wailing.

"Take me home."