From Russia, With Love
Sorry about the anonymous review block. I didn't know about it. Review like crazy.
* * * * * *Chapter Five: Time's Slipping From Her Fingers * * * * * *
Assessing the damage done, he lifted her blanket. He made a grimace. Her arms were covered in ripped sleeves with shallow incisions surrounded by a multitude of purple bruises. Her face had been spared letting her getaway with a cut lip, and her legs where still in the protective covering of black leather pants.
"Something like that," he chuckled, "Syd, can you walk?"
She looked about still fazed and then into his eyes, "Walk, no. Run, yes."
The two stared at each other, happy to be alive. Kneeling beside her she embraced her, feeling her arms wrap around him. She cried tears of joy that tickled down her chin that were attracted to the black swat team sweater. Irina looked down the corridor, not wanting to disturb the reunion. Her conscience told her this was all too easy.
"Sydney. Vaughn. We have to leave now," she stated sternly. She tossed a small handgun to Sydney.
She clung to the wall stabling herself and hobbled out the cell. "Which way?" she looked to her mother.
Uncertain she looked to Vaughn, "What happened to the other agent? Is he out?"
"Shit! We forgot Weiss." Vaughn fumbled in his pocket for a small radio. "Weiss? Weiss? Where are you?" At the other of the line was complete silence. Adjusting the knobs and frequencies, they descended down the hallway and a fight of stairs.
At every bend and corner the distinct footsteps of Russian combat boots, haunted the renegade team. Home free. Home free. The mantra was now their only hope. In the distance the pounding of rubber to metal grew louder. Thud, thud. They couldn't all escape.
Irina knew what was needed to be done. Instead of continuing the spiral descent to freedom, she about-faced and stood her ground. "Mom, what are you doing?" her child cried, as she tried to uproot the statue from her spot.
"Sydney, go I'll hold them off long enough for you to get away. Go," she wrenched her arm from Sydney's death grip and blazed her rifle against the oncoming enemy. Safely down the passage, the dim lights and peeling paint only glorified her hero.
Though Irina delayed the inevitable, fate had a plan of her own. She sent forth from her fury troops so innumerable that not even a horde of warriors could prevent. Yet despair, is a torture not all give into so easily. It would only aide their survival.
Sydney and Vaughn weaved their way through the empty floor of cubicles. Seeking refuge under a desk, she silently forced herself to make her final amends. "Vaughn, have you ever made a desert island list?"
Perplexed by her random question he silently nodded.
"I haven't. But now that I've considered it, I would have my Bing Crosby CD, you know the one with White Christmas, a photo album, endless supply of coffee and a toothbrush with toothpaste," she said off in another world.
"Toothpaste?"
"Too much coffee can destroy these pearly whites," she flashed him a grin. "Anything you need to do before you die?" she turned the most , morbid question into something like 'how's the weather there?'
"Yeah, I suppose I have something left to do," he leaned closer now, "that is if she agrees to it." With little deliberation, Sydney, flung her arms around him and kissed him. Sweet and passionate. The last hope in their desolate world.
Suddenly the was invaded by light coming from a sniper rifle. Holding their breaths, the waited anxiously for death to past. A camouflaged uniform covering the top of a boot appeared in front of the desk. It kicked the rolling chair knocking it into a cabinet. Moments passed and so had death. To be sure, they lingered for the long-awaited click of the door's lock.
Click. "Move." Neither was sure of who said it first, but the command was instantly obeyed. Sydney, scurried to an office at the end of the row. Tugging on Vaughn's arm, she pointed to the window. Unexpectedly, they wandered into the same room in which Sydney had used to enter. The wire and harness still clung to its perch. Once safely secured to the line, they began the extensive trek down.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
IRINA: I'd like a coffee please.
(Kendall looks at Vaughn.)
VAUGHN: Cream or sugar?
(Irina turns and gives him a look.)
VAUGHN: Black.
IRINA: Thank you.
I love this scene in Higher Echelon mainly cause it involves coffee (I love coffee) and Vaughn actually asks Irina what she wants. Do I hear suck-up to the in law. Sorry for my rant, but my friends hate the show so technically they're my EX-friends. Anyway thanks for putting up with me.
Sorry for the short chapter, but there is so much going on in this one I had to break it up.
~Stephanie~
Sorry about the anonymous review block. I didn't know about it. Review like crazy.
* * * * * *Chapter Five: Time's Slipping From Her Fingers * * * * * *
Assessing the damage done, he lifted her blanket. He made a grimace. Her arms were covered in ripped sleeves with shallow incisions surrounded by a multitude of purple bruises. Her face had been spared letting her getaway with a cut lip, and her legs where still in the protective covering of black leather pants.
"Something like that," he chuckled, "Syd, can you walk?"
She looked about still fazed and then into his eyes, "Walk, no. Run, yes."
The two stared at each other, happy to be alive. Kneeling beside her she embraced her, feeling her arms wrap around him. She cried tears of joy that tickled down her chin that were attracted to the black swat team sweater. Irina looked down the corridor, not wanting to disturb the reunion. Her conscience told her this was all too easy.
"Sydney. Vaughn. We have to leave now," she stated sternly. She tossed a small handgun to Sydney.
She clung to the wall stabling herself and hobbled out the cell. "Which way?" she looked to her mother.
Uncertain she looked to Vaughn, "What happened to the other agent? Is he out?"
"Shit! We forgot Weiss." Vaughn fumbled in his pocket for a small radio. "Weiss? Weiss? Where are you?" At the other of the line was complete silence. Adjusting the knobs and frequencies, they descended down the hallway and a fight of stairs.
At every bend and corner the distinct footsteps of Russian combat boots, haunted the renegade team. Home free. Home free. The mantra was now their only hope. In the distance the pounding of rubber to metal grew louder. Thud, thud. They couldn't all escape.
Irina knew what was needed to be done. Instead of continuing the spiral descent to freedom, she about-faced and stood her ground. "Mom, what are you doing?" her child cried, as she tried to uproot the statue from her spot.
"Sydney, go I'll hold them off long enough for you to get away. Go," she wrenched her arm from Sydney's death grip and blazed her rifle against the oncoming enemy. Safely down the passage, the dim lights and peeling paint only glorified her hero.
Though Irina delayed the inevitable, fate had a plan of her own. She sent forth from her fury troops so innumerable that not even a horde of warriors could prevent. Yet despair, is a torture not all give into so easily. It would only aide their survival.
Sydney and Vaughn weaved their way through the empty floor of cubicles. Seeking refuge under a desk, she silently forced herself to make her final amends. "Vaughn, have you ever made a desert island list?"
Perplexed by her random question he silently nodded.
"I haven't. But now that I've considered it, I would have my Bing Crosby CD, you know the one with White Christmas, a photo album, endless supply of coffee and a toothbrush with toothpaste," she said off in another world.
"Toothpaste?"
"Too much coffee can destroy these pearly whites," she flashed him a grin. "Anything you need to do before you die?" she turned the most , morbid question into something like 'how's the weather there?'
"Yeah, I suppose I have something left to do," he leaned closer now, "that is if she agrees to it." With little deliberation, Sydney, flung her arms around him and kissed him. Sweet and passionate. The last hope in their desolate world.
Suddenly the was invaded by light coming from a sniper rifle. Holding their breaths, the waited anxiously for death to past. A camouflaged uniform covering the top of a boot appeared in front of the desk. It kicked the rolling chair knocking it into a cabinet. Moments passed and so had death. To be sure, they lingered for the long-awaited click of the door's lock.
Click. "Move." Neither was sure of who said it first, but the command was instantly obeyed. Sydney, scurried to an office at the end of the row. Tugging on Vaughn's arm, she pointed to the window. Unexpectedly, they wandered into the same room in which Sydney had used to enter. The wire and harness still clung to its perch. Once safely secured to the line, they began the extensive trek down.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
IRINA: I'd like a coffee please.
(Kendall looks at Vaughn.)
VAUGHN: Cream or sugar?
(Irina turns and gives him a look.)
VAUGHN: Black.
IRINA: Thank you.
I love this scene in Higher Echelon mainly cause it involves coffee (I love coffee) and Vaughn actually asks Irina what she wants. Do I hear suck-up to the in law. Sorry for my rant, but my friends hate the show so technically they're my EX-friends. Anyway thanks for putting up with me.
Sorry for the short chapter, but there is so much going on in this one I had to break it up.
~Stephanie~