Title: Slip Away
Author: hotpot aka Suzi
Rating: I’m saying R because damn it, I miss the R-rated forum!
Ship: Warning to S/V’s that might read, this ain’t going to be pretty. Need I say more?
Disclaimer: Only one of these characters belong to me, I’ll let you use your imagination to figure out who I mean The song lyrics used come from ‘Vindication’ by Dashboard Confessional.
Continuation: In a line of Sarkney songfics, this would be #4. First came Say Goodbye, Hard Luck, then Saint and Sinner. If you haven’t read ‘em, I recommend you do, it won’t take long. I promise.
Distribution: Just ask first.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated.
A/N: First of all, I must give Joyie thanks for mentioning this song and telling me I should acquire it. And I have to say, Yay! My muse came crawling back after being MIA for eh, over a month now. I was typing like a woman possessed, so let’s hope I can hammer something out for Name the Stakes. I do have a prequel for this that I started while I was still down at school, but it’s proved a bit difficult to work with … Anyway!
Hope, dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Winding in and winding out
The shine of it has caught my eye
Roped me in so mesmorizing
And so hypnotizing
I am captivated
I am...
Sydney lies in the bed, on her stomach with one arm draped over his chest. The morning light streams on them, a perfect moment before the harsh realities of their work ahead greets them once again. She looks at him; the sun catching his blonde locks and tanned skin and a smile comes to her face as the corner of his mouth twitches. He is dreaming, of what she never knows but the dreams must be content. Finally, her sleep has been peaceful. A little more than two years ago, she left her life as she knew it. The CIA. Her father. Vaughn. Plagued by self-doubt in the beginning, she wanted to run back to it all. Everything she had left behind, now that it wasn’t hers to have it began to seem appealing again.
That hadn’t lasted long.
The look on Sark’s face that morning, when she showed up soaking wet from the rain and he was hung over beyond belief from a vodka fueled night, yes, that look had sobered them both in an instant. What she had to lose was blinding her from what she had to gain. A life less ordinary was hers for the taking, something she refused to want for so long. It was only Sark who saw it in her, the desire for that life and he was making it hers.
And she was relishing every waking moment of it.
Vindicated
I am selfish, I am wrong
I am right, I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
Sark stirs suddenly beside her, looking over at her, he smiles sleepily. She reaches up to run her fingers down the side of his face, slight stubble catching her fingertips. He rolls onto his side to face her, returning the favor as he brushes a stray piece of hair away from her eyes. As he traces her cheekbone, he leans in for a small kiss. The warmth from his lips carries onto hers while he mumbles a sleepy ‘good morning.’ Was she wrong for wanting this? In the beginning, she told herself she was very wrong. Sark bad. Sydney good.
Foolish distinctions.
Now they are doing their morning routine, but whereas before routine was boring, now it comforts her, the few moments of routine Sark and her have in a day is something to be cherished. They shower together, sometimes making love and sometimes not. It depends on where their next assignment is going to take them, whether they need the comfort of the intimate act to carry them through the task or not.
Today, they make love.
As they pull on the hotel robes, they contemplate ordering room service. She always seems to crave pancakes, but Sark is concerned about drawing too much attention to their alias’s. So they attack the mini-bar instead. He anticipates her comments on Hostess Apple Pies tasting nothing like real apples, to which he always quips ‘What do you expect? It’s from the mini-bar.’ At least, the tea is decent.
Falling into this pattern was easy, forgetting everything she knew was hard at first but it did get better. Sark had been patient with her, never wanting to push but hoping she wouldn’t run back to her old life. That now, she would finally allow herself to want whatever was possible, right or wrong. As she realized and accepted the happiness she was feeling, everything she left behind went away. She moves across the room and takes a deep breath that does not go unnoticed. He looks up from the paper and his tea concerned. He knows the reason for the sigh and it is not from the false taste the apple pie has left in her mouth.
“Are you sure you are ready for this?”
Today, everything she left behind was coming back to her.
So clear
Like the diamond in your ring
Cut to mirror your intention
Oversized and overwhelmed
The shine of which has caught my eye
And rendered me so isolated
So motivated, I am certain now
That I am...
Of course, she is ready. If this were to be the path she chose, it was only a matter of time before she would be faced with the consequences of her action. Agent Vaughn, the man she left and the consequence was now catching up with her. When she thought of him in the beginning, she doubted herself. He loved her so much and she could only imagine the hurt he felt. Would he look for her? What would she do if he found her? As time passed, she realized she didn’t have to worry about that.
He never came.
No, today she was going to him. Sark had told her whom the CIA was sending in, telling her she didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to. It didn’t matter anymore; she would go where Sark went. He never questioned her decision; yet, she knew he was relieved.
Now they are in the main server control room, trying to patch into the feed that will show the location of several different artifacts located throughout the facility. They are quick, efficient, a perfect pair working side by side. Item after item runs across the screen, the program they installed compiling the locations within the building. They will split up, collect them and meet at their rendezvous point. The way they have done every assignment and nothing has ever gone wrong.
That is, until today.
Sydney is running down the corridor. Two priceless items down, one more to go and no sign of Vaughn or the CIA anywhere. An occasional guard tries to stop her, but she makes quick work of all them. Necks snap, weapons fire, whatever it takes, and she gets it done, for her humanitarian causes are a thing of the past. Then, there is something she doesn’t expect. The person who jumps out at her is no guard. It is a woman dressed in all black, just like her.
Momentarily, she is stunned and the woman uses this to her advantage taking a swing at Sydney with a punishing left hook. Pain sears through her face before she kicks her leg out, knocking the brunette to the floor. A warm trickling feeling begins to spread down Sydney’s cheek as she brings her hand up. Blood. From the feel of blood at her fingertips, her eyes fall to the large diamond on the hand of the brunette woman. The woman stares into Sydney’s face before calling out,
“Michael! Help!”
Vindicated
I am selfish, I am wrong
I am right, I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
The artifact. The thought pounds in her brain as the only thing that should matter. Sark. Meeting at the rendezvous point, but she stays where she is at with her hand still raised to her bleeding cheek. You should get out your gun, she tells herself but she doesn’t. Footsteps echo down the hallway, coming closer. In a moment, she will see the partner. First, she will take care of this Michael then this woman still on the floor. Wait. Vaughn. Then, it hits her.
This woman called him Michael.
There he is, but he pays no attention to Sydney as he crouches down to the woman on the floor. “Anna, are you alright?” She is fine, lying on the floor merely from one swift kick. What kind of field agent is she, Sydney wonders as Anna’s hand moves to one pointed finger towards Sydney. Then, it hits her.
Ring. Michael. No Sydney. Anna.
Vaughn’s jaw drops slightly before he quickly draws his gun bringing it up to Sydney. She is motionless still. For a second, no less and then no more before the disbelief spreads across her face and into her words.
“You got married?”
The look on his face is pitiful, making her want to be sick and making her wish she had pulled out her weapon when she thought about it. The veil on Vaughn is pulled back, without her; he has quickly become everything she would have grown to hate. Weak. The time seems to pass so slowly, Anna finally rises from the floor reaching for her own gun. Vaughn is trying to say something to her, but she does not see it. Instead she sees Anna, and in Anna is a weaker version of Sydney. Someone who will always need Vaughn to help her, to be there with her every step of the way, everything Sydney realized she did not want.
So turn up the corners of your lips
Part them and feel my finger tips
Trace the moment, fall forever
Defense is paper thin
Just one touch and I'd be in too deep
to ever swim against the current
Finally, the soundtrack of the conversation reaches Sydney’s ears. Vaughn is shouting for her to put her hands on her head. She is going with them and she suddenly wonders if Vaughn realizes why she left him. The thought comes and goes as she realizes there are two of them with weapons on her, whereas she has none at the ready.
“I said put your hands up Sydney! I don’t want to use this on you, but I will!”
She complies. Hands on her head, Vaughn comes rushing over to her preparing to grab her by the wrists and slap on the handcuffs. She will be taken away. Back home. No, not home merely where she was before. Vaughn’s hands are on her wrists, but he moves too slowly as a shot fires out echoing through the corridor. They both stare as Anna brings her hand to her right shoulder, her diamond sparkling as the blood begins to seep through her fingertips. Someone forgot her vest this morning. Anna falls to the ground, still alive possibly not for long. A figure stands behind where her figure once stood.
Sark.
Vaughn grabs onto Sydney with one hand and raises his gun in the other to Sark; his hand trembles while his eyes move back and forth between Anna on the floor and Sark advancing towards him.
“Stop right there, Sark.”
Sark smiles as he stops by Anna. He dares to look quickly down at her before looking back up to Vaughn. “You better hurry if you are going to save the missus Agent Vaughn.”
“Put the gun down Sark and I might consider letting you live.”
Sark takes a second to consider this. His words are cold as he gestures with his Glock down at Anna. “Try exactly the opposite, let Sydney go and I’ll let this one live.”
Suddenly, Vaughn roughly grabs onto Sydney pulling her closer to him as he moves his gun into Sydney’s side. “Seems we have a problem then. I’m not letting you two walk out of here.” He notices Sark is about to make a clever quip and jabs the gun into Sydney’s side cutting him off. “I’ll do it Sark, I swear to God I will.” Sark glances at Sydney. The quick look between the two of them says it all.
They believe him.
So let me slip away, so let me slip away
So let me slip away, so let me slip against the current
So let me slip away, so let me slip away
So let me slip away, so let me slip away
Sark moves his gun over Anna now beginning to shudder on the floor. Neither Vaughn nor Sark say anything, instead they wait trying to anticipate the others next move. They are at a standstill before Sydney speaks.
“Vaughn, don’t do this. You need to save your wife.”
He turns to coldly look at her. “You were supposed to be my wife.” She has nothing to say in return as she swings her eyes away from him. Sark seeing his chance quickly raises his gun, but surprisingly he is not fast enough. Vaughn pulls the gun from off of Sydney, pushing her out of the way and whirls in Sark’s direction firing. The sound of Sark’s gun clattering to the floor is barely heard over his cry of pain as he falls to the floor near Anna’s crumpled form. It is now up to Sydney.
Vaughn, the man she left behind and the consequence of her actions standing before her.
Where before she felt paralyzed by the situation, now there is empowerment. She moves quickly towards Vaughn, kicking the gun from his hand and jumping midair to deliver another shot to his torso forcing him to the side of the corridor. She grabs a fire extinguisher from the wall, pulling it back and delivering it to Vaughn’s side. He cries in out in pain and Sydney can only think of Sark’s cries. He needs her to get them out now. She drops the extinguisher, the loud thumping sound reverberating off the walls. Looking at Vaughn, she feels slight pity for him and what his life has become. Wiping her hand across her mouth, she tastes her blood from the wound on her cheek. Bittersweet. Vaughn stares up at her unmoving as she turns from him to go towards Sark.
Vaughn isn’t finished yet.
It is a mistake to turn her back on him, to assume he understands her life now, the life that doesn’t involve him. He stands reaching down to pick up the discarded fire extinguisher while Sydney moves closer to Sark. He cries out as she begins to turn back towards the sound of his screams.
“I won’t let you leave me again!”
Throwing her hands up to block the blow, Vaughn brings the extinguisher down across her shoulder sending her to the floor. She looks up at him, waves of pain running through her side. He stands before her, a man possessed preparing to strike her again. To stop her anyway he can. He’d rather her dead then to leave him for Sark. Out of the corner of her eye, metallic salvation. Within her grasp, she pulls it towards her, curving her fingers to the handle and bringing it to meet Vaughn, a look of surprise etched on his face.
Bang.
Vindicated
I am selfish, I am wrong
I am right, I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
He falls slowly, stunned but she doesn’t pause to witness. Like lightening, she gets up moving towards Sark. He is alive, a shot taken to his lower left side. Did no one wear their vests today? She pulls him up, desperately trying to fight the dull ache coming from her own side inflamed with pain. As she moves to put her arm around him, bracing herself against his weight, he stirs. Slightly groggy, he looks over to Sydney.
Vaughn, he asks.
She shakes her head and tells him they need to get moving. Remaining artifacts be damned. Once outside, the cool air hits them causing Sark to become slightly more alert. As she drives, he wants to know what happened to Vaughn. Did he let them go? She remains quiet trying to navigate the road and find a place to pull off and tend to Sark’s wound. Finally, a forest preserve sign appears and she pulls in parking in the shade of a large sycamore tree.
Sark will be fine. Sydney administers narcotic for the pain and he falls asleep. He stopped asking questions and she is thankful for now. Skillfully, she manages to remove the bullet, letting it fall to the floor of the Escalade. While she bandages his wound, she catches her mind drifting to Anna, wondering if anyone found her in time. Sydney pushes the thought aside; it is not her concern anymore. Sark will want answers when he wakes up, and she wonders if he will believe what she tells him.
Vaughn is dead.
Enraged, he would have killed her before he would have let her go back to Sark. What had she done to him? When she left him that night, he became something different. A thought comes to her mind. If she had stayed with him, what would she have become? Because of her, the Vaughn she knew died the night she left him. She thinks in retrospect, the night she left him, she became alive.
She looks down at Sark, sprawled out on the back seat and smiles as she runs a hand softly over his face. She had saved him after he tried to save her, exactly as he had done for her a little more than two years ago. Leaning down, she presses her lips softly to his before moving to get back in the driver’s seat. Tonight, they will board a plane that will take them back to their home and everything that happened today will be nothing more than a distant memory. It is the only thing that comforts her then.
Home.
Like hope, dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Thanks for reading, as always - feedback makes my day! :flowers:
Author: hotpot aka Suzi
Rating: I’m saying R because damn it, I miss the R-rated forum!
Ship: Warning to S/V’s that might read, this ain’t going to be pretty. Need I say more?
Disclaimer: Only one of these characters belong to me, I’ll let you use your imagination to figure out who I mean The song lyrics used come from ‘Vindication’ by Dashboard Confessional.
Continuation: In a line of Sarkney songfics, this would be #4. First came Say Goodbye, Hard Luck, then Saint and Sinner. If you haven’t read ‘em, I recommend you do, it won’t take long. I promise.
Distribution: Just ask first.
Feedback: Would be greatly appreciated.
A/N: First of all, I must give Joyie thanks for mentioning this song and telling me I should acquire it. And I have to say, Yay! My muse came crawling back after being MIA for eh, over a month now. I was typing like a woman possessed, so let’s hope I can hammer something out for Name the Stakes. I do have a prequel for this that I started while I was still down at school, but it’s proved a bit difficult to work with … Anyway!
Hope, dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
Winding in and winding out
The shine of it has caught my eye
Roped me in so mesmorizing
And so hypnotizing
I am captivated
I am...
Sydney lies in the bed, on her stomach with one arm draped over his chest. The morning light streams on them, a perfect moment before the harsh realities of their work ahead greets them once again. She looks at him; the sun catching his blonde locks and tanned skin and a smile comes to her face as the corner of his mouth twitches. He is dreaming, of what she never knows but the dreams must be content. Finally, her sleep has been peaceful. A little more than two years ago, she left her life as she knew it. The CIA. Her father. Vaughn. Plagued by self-doubt in the beginning, she wanted to run back to it all. Everything she had left behind, now that it wasn’t hers to have it began to seem appealing again.
That hadn’t lasted long.
The look on Sark’s face that morning, when she showed up soaking wet from the rain and he was hung over beyond belief from a vodka fueled night, yes, that look had sobered them both in an instant. What she had to lose was blinding her from what she had to gain. A life less ordinary was hers for the taking, something she refused to want for so long. It was only Sark who saw it in her, the desire for that life and he was making it hers.
And she was relishing every waking moment of it.
Vindicated
I am selfish, I am wrong
I am right, I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
Sark stirs suddenly beside her, looking over at her, he smiles sleepily. She reaches up to run her fingers down the side of his face, slight stubble catching her fingertips. He rolls onto his side to face her, returning the favor as he brushes a stray piece of hair away from her eyes. As he traces her cheekbone, he leans in for a small kiss. The warmth from his lips carries onto hers while he mumbles a sleepy ‘good morning.’ Was she wrong for wanting this? In the beginning, she told herself she was very wrong. Sark bad. Sydney good.
Foolish distinctions.
Now they are doing their morning routine, but whereas before routine was boring, now it comforts her, the few moments of routine Sark and her have in a day is something to be cherished. They shower together, sometimes making love and sometimes not. It depends on where their next assignment is going to take them, whether they need the comfort of the intimate act to carry them through the task or not.
Today, they make love.
As they pull on the hotel robes, they contemplate ordering room service. She always seems to crave pancakes, but Sark is concerned about drawing too much attention to their alias’s. So they attack the mini-bar instead. He anticipates her comments on Hostess Apple Pies tasting nothing like real apples, to which he always quips ‘What do you expect? It’s from the mini-bar.’ At least, the tea is decent.
Falling into this pattern was easy, forgetting everything she knew was hard at first but it did get better. Sark had been patient with her, never wanting to push but hoping she wouldn’t run back to her old life. That now, she would finally allow herself to want whatever was possible, right or wrong. As she realized and accepted the happiness she was feeling, everything she left behind went away. She moves across the room and takes a deep breath that does not go unnoticed. He looks up from the paper and his tea concerned. He knows the reason for the sigh and it is not from the false taste the apple pie has left in her mouth.
“Are you sure you are ready for this?”
Today, everything she left behind was coming back to her.
So clear
Like the diamond in your ring
Cut to mirror your intention
Oversized and overwhelmed
The shine of which has caught my eye
And rendered me so isolated
So motivated, I am certain now
That I am...
Of course, she is ready. If this were to be the path she chose, it was only a matter of time before she would be faced with the consequences of her action. Agent Vaughn, the man she left and the consequence was now catching up with her. When she thought of him in the beginning, she doubted herself. He loved her so much and she could only imagine the hurt he felt. Would he look for her? What would she do if he found her? As time passed, she realized she didn’t have to worry about that.
He never came.
No, today she was going to him. Sark had told her whom the CIA was sending in, telling her she didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to. It didn’t matter anymore; she would go where Sark went. He never questioned her decision; yet, she knew he was relieved.
Now they are in the main server control room, trying to patch into the feed that will show the location of several different artifacts located throughout the facility. They are quick, efficient, a perfect pair working side by side. Item after item runs across the screen, the program they installed compiling the locations within the building. They will split up, collect them and meet at their rendezvous point. The way they have done every assignment and nothing has ever gone wrong.
That is, until today.
Sydney is running down the corridor. Two priceless items down, one more to go and no sign of Vaughn or the CIA anywhere. An occasional guard tries to stop her, but she makes quick work of all them. Necks snap, weapons fire, whatever it takes, and she gets it done, for her humanitarian causes are a thing of the past. Then, there is something she doesn’t expect. The person who jumps out at her is no guard. It is a woman dressed in all black, just like her.
Momentarily, she is stunned and the woman uses this to her advantage taking a swing at Sydney with a punishing left hook. Pain sears through her face before she kicks her leg out, knocking the brunette to the floor. A warm trickling feeling begins to spread down Sydney’s cheek as she brings her hand up. Blood. From the feel of blood at her fingertips, her eyes fall to the large diamond on the hand of the brunette woman. The woman stares into Sydney’s face before calling out,
“Michael! Help!”
Vindicated
I am selfish, I am wrong
I am right, I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
The artifact. The thought pounds in her brain as the only thing that should matter. Sark. Meeting at the rendezvous point, but she stays where she is at with her hand still raised to her bleeding cheek. You should get out your gun, she tells herself but she doesn’t. Footsteps echo down the hallway, coming closer. In a moment, she will see the partner. First, she will take care of this Michael then this woman still on the floor. Wait. Vaughn. Then, it hits her.
This woman called him Michael.
There he is, but he pays no attention to Sydney as he crouches down to the woman on the floor. “Anna, are you alright?” She is fine, lying on the floor merely from one swift kick. What kind of field agent is she, Sydney wonders as Anna’s hand moves to one pointed finger towards Sydney. Then, it hits her.
Ring. Michael. No Sydney. Anna.
Vaughn’s jaw drops slightly before he quickly draws his gun bringing it up to Sydney. She is motionless still. For a second, no less and then no more before the disbelief spreads across her face and into her words.
“You got married?”
The look on his face is pitiful, making her want to be sick and making her wish she had pulled out her weapon when she thought about it. The veil on Vaughn is pulled back, without her; he has quickly become everything she would have grown to hate. Weak. The time seems to pass so slowly, Anna finally rises from the floor reaching for her own gun. Vaughn is trying to say something to her, but she does not see it. Instead she sees Anna, and in Anna is a weaker version of Sydney. Someone who will always need Vaughn to help her, to be there with her every step of the way, everything Sydney realized she did not want.
So turn up the corners of your lips
Part them and feel my finger tips
Trace the moment, fall forever
Defense is paper thin
Just one touch and I'd be in too deep
to ever swim against the current
Finally, the soundtrack of the conversation reaches Sydney’s ears. Vaughn is shouting for her to put her hands on her head. She is going with them and she suddenly wonders if Vaughn realizes why she left him. The thought comes and goes as she realizes there are two of them with weapons on her, whereas she has none at the ready.
“I said put your hands up Sydney! I don’t want to use this on you, but I will!”
She complies. Hands on her head, Vaughn comes rushing over to her preparing to grab her by the wrists and slap on the handcuffs. She will be taken away. Back home. No, not home merely where she was before. Vaughn’s hands are on her wrists, but he moves too slowly as a shot fires out echoing through the corridor. They both stare as Anna brings her hand to her right shoulder, her diamond sparkling as the blood begins to seep through her fingertips. Someone forgot her vest this morning. Anna falls to the ground, still alive possibly not for long. A figure stands behind where her figure once stood.
Sark.
Vaughn grabs onto Sydney with one hand and raises his gun in the other to Sark; his hand trembles while his eyes move back and forth between Anna on the floor and Sark advancing towards him.
“Stop right there, Sark.”
Sark smiles as he stops by Anna. He dares to look quickly down at her before looking back up to Vaughn. “You better hurry if you are going to save the missus Agent Vaughn.”
“Put the gun down Sark and I might consider letting you live.”
Sark takes a second to consider this. His words are cold as he gestures with his Glock down at Anna. “Try exactly the opposite, let Sydney go and I’ll let this one live.”
Suddenly, Vaughn roughly grabs onto Sydney pulling her closer to him as he moves his gun into Sydney’s side. “Seems we have a problem then. I’m not letting you two walk out of here.” He notices Sark is about to make a clever quip and jabs the gun into Sydney’s side cutting him off. “I’ll do it Sark, I swear to God I will.” Sark glances at Sydney. The quick look between the two of them says it all.
They believe him.
So let me slip away, so let me slip away
So let me slip away, so let me slip against the current
So let me slip away, so let me slip away
So let me slip away, so let me slip away
Sark moves his gun over Anna now beginning to shudder on the floor. Neither Vaughn nor Sark say anything, instead they wait trying to anticipate the others next move. They are at a standstill before Sydney speaks.
“Vaughn, don’t do this. You need to save your wife.”
He turns to coldly look at her. “You were supposed to be my wife.” She has nothing to say in return as she swings her eyes away from him. Sark seeing his chance quickly raises his gun, but surprisingly he is not fast enough. Vaughn pulls the gun from off of Sydney, pushing her out of the way and whirls in Sark’s direction firing. The sound of Sark’s gun clattering to the floor is barely heard over his cry of pain as he falls to the floor near Anna’s crumpled form. It is now up to Sydney.
Vaughn, the man she left behind and the consequence of her actions standing before her.
Where before she felt paralyzed by the situation, now there is empowerment. She moves quickly towards Vaughn, kicking the gun from his hand and jumping midair to deliver another shot to his torso forcing him to the side of the corridor. She grabs a fire extinguisher from the wall, pulling it back and delivering it to Vaughn’s side. He cries in out in pain and Sydney can only think of Sark’s cries. He needs her to get them out now. She drops the extinguisher, the loud thumping sound reverberating off the walls. Looking at Vaughn, she feels slight pity for him and what his life has become. Wiping her hand across her mouth, she tastes her blood from the wound on her cheek. Bittersweet. Vaughn stares up at her unmoving as she turns from him to go towards Sark.
Vaughn isn’t finished yet.
It is a mistake to turn her back on him, to assume he understands her life now, the life that doesn’t involve him. He stands reaching down to pick up the discarded fire extinguisher while Sydney moves closer to Sark. He cries out as she begins to turn back towards the sound of his screams.
“I won’t let you leave me again!”
Throwing her hands up to block the blow, Vaughn brings the extinguisher down across her shoulder sending her to the floor. She looks up at him, waves of pain running through her side. He stands before her, a man possessed preparing to strike her again. To stop her anyway he can. He’d rather her dead then to leave him for Sark. Out of the corner of her eye, metallic salvation. Within her grasp, she pulls it towards her, curving her fingers to the handle and bringing it to meet Vaughn, a look of surprise etched on his face.
Bang.
Vindicated
I am selfish, I am wrong
I am right, I swear I'm right
Swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed
But I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now
The things you swore you saw yourself
He falls slowly, stunned but she doesn’t pause to witness. Like lightening, she gets up moving towards Sark. He is alive, a shot taken to his lower left side. Did no one wear their vests today? She pulls him up, desperately trying to fight the dull ache coming from her own side inflamed with pain. As she moves to put her arm around him, bracing herself against his weight, he stirs. Slightly groggy, he looks over to Sydney.
Vaughn, he asks.
She shakes her head and tells him they need to get moving. Remaining artifacts be damned. Once outside, the cool air hits them causing Sark to become slightly more alert. As she drives, he wants to know what happened to Vaughn. Did he let them go? She remains quiet trying to navigate the road and find a place to pull off and tend to Sark’s wound. Finally, a forest preserve sign appears and she pulls in parking in the shade of a large sycamore tree.
Sark will be fine. Sydney administers narcotic for the pain and he falls asleep. He stopped asking questions and she is thankful for now. Skillfully, she manages to remove the bullet, letting it fall to the floor of the Escalade. While she bandages his wound, she catches her mind drifting to Anna, wondering if anyone found her in time. Sydney pushes the thought aside; it is not her concern anymore. Sark will want answers when he wakes up, and she wonders if he will believe what she tells him.
Vaughn is dead.
Enraged, he would have killed her before he would have let her go back to Sark. What had she done to him? When she left him that night, he became something different. A thought comes to her mind. If she had stayed with him, what would she have become? Because of her, the Vaughn she knew died the night she left him. She thinks in retrospect, the night she left him, she became alive.
She looks down at Sark, sprawled out on the back seat and smiles as she runs a hand softly over his face. She had saved him after he tried to save her, exactly as he had done for her a little more than two years ago. Leaning down, she presses her lips softly to his before moving to get back in the driver’s seat. Tonight, they will board a plane that will take them back to their home and everything that happened today will be nothing more than a distant memory. It is the only thing that comforts her then.
Home.
Like hope, dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption
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