thanks for all the reviews!!
Chapter 8
She sat in the car for the second time that night, holding back a sob, but she could not stop the tears from dripping down her cheeks. She was so angry at herself for crying, especially in front of Sark. She could not get the image of her dad in the shadows, barely alive, from her head. She wondered if the CIA had started searching for her yet. Sark had warned that if anyone followed her or made contact with her, that Will would die. According to Sark, five of his men were surrounding Will's house, ready to kill him. No one at the time was willing to take the chance, but now that Jack was going to the hospital and she hadn't returned, she prayed the CIA was looking. She stared angrily down at the handcuffs on her wrist. They made escaping twice as difficult. What she wouldn't give for a hairpin. She tilted her wrist and in the darkness tried to read her watch. It was either 9:55 or 11:45. She couldn't tell and had no clue how much time had passed since she left the CIA. It had all happened in a blur. Her wet hair dripped down her back, off her shirt and onto the expensive leather with a satisfying splash. She started to shiver. The handcuffs' cold metallic jingle broke the silence in the car. Sark turned around and glanced at Sydney. She looked down determined to hide her despair. Her tear stained face glistened, reflecting the headlights of the passing cars.
"Are you cold?" Sark asked, his voice empty of emotion.
"It's not going to work," she whispered, ignoring his question. It was the first thing she had said since leaving the safe house.
"Excuse me?"
"Whatever you are planning, won't work," she continued, her voice growing stronger as she continued, "The CIA will find me." She barely believed the words as she said them.
"Don't be so sure Ms. Bristow, you didn't think anyone knew you were a double agent and look where that got you. Did you actually think you would fool me. It's fascinating really, you always try to find the good in a person. I don't know anyone besides you like that, except for maybe your mother, when I first met her." Sark paused, ending softly, "And you trust people easily, too. Too easily. You would even trust your mother if you found her again, wouldn't you?" Aware only to a small extent how perfectly he had read her, he waited for the response he knew wouldn't come. She shivered, angry she didn't know anything about him. His past was a mystery and she barely understood the present.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To an airport," he replied.
"And then?"
"Need to know basis, Ms. Bristow," he answered, not offering any more details.
She sat there fuming for a moment before continuing, "So you're hiding?"
"You could call it that. I don't have much of a choice. People don't take kindly to betrayal in this business."
She sighed, grateful to some degree it was Sark saying that to her and not Sloane. "So, why do you need me?"
"For one, I can't have you leaking to the CIA where I am and what I'm doing, and secondly--"
"But I don't know what your doing or where your going!" she interrupted.
"Let me finish Ms. Bristow--"
"Finish what Sark? There isn't a good reason. Is it so you can have a friend?" she asked mockingly, determined to get back at him for understanding her so well. It was a poor attempt.
"Right on, Ms. Bristow, you have me all figured out," he replied sarcastically. He leaned over and reached for his cell.
"Luke, any more news?" He started before lowering his voice.
She couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. Sark voice went from weary to angry by the end of the conversation.
"Sydney?"he asked, not realizing he called her by her first name.
"What?" she asked, still surprised from being called Sydney.
"Just.," he started but then stopped, "Just know it might be a rough trip."
She couldn't understand Sark. He never showed his emotions, but when he did it left her even more confused. Exhaustion set in and she slowly started to sleep.
Bright lights shining in her face, woke her. She saw a huge SUV coming down the wrong side of the road. The headlights blared in their faces. Accelerating, Sark swerved to the left to avoid getting struck. Sydney watched in horror as the SUV barely missed their car. Their car spun out of control and skidded into a small ditch. The SUV tipped over in the middle of the road. Sark jumped out and approached the SUV, gun drawn. A man crawled out and started firing at Sark as he ran into the field by the road. Sark ran after him, took aim and fired. He watched silently as the man dropped to the ground.
All Sydney heard was the gunshots. She was jammed on the floor between the seats. Cautiously she moved her legs, then her arms. Her ankle screamed with pain when she moved it. It was already beginning to swell. Painfully, she pulled herself back onto the seat. She watched as Sark calmly came back to the car and inspected it for damage. He walked around with a flashlight. He's perfectly fine, she thought, unfortunately.
"That could have been worse. Okay back there?"
"Never been better," she answered.
"Do you always have swollen ankles then?"
"I'm fine Sark, how's the car?"
Sark walked over with the flashlight and attempted to start the engine. Nothing happened.
"Sark? What now?"
"Were ½ a mile from the airport, it would only be 20 minutes on foot" he stated leaving it up to her.
"What? No! You want me to walk?"
"What? You broke out of Taipei with a gunshot wound just fine."
"I wasn't walking on my hands Sark."
"If you're not up to it," he replied with mock resignation, "I'm sure there's another assassin waiting around that would be more than happy to take you home."
"Point made, let's go."
"After you."
He held the flashlight and opened the door. He unlocked her handcuffs and reached down to help her out. She pushed him away. Supporting herself against the car, she tenderly took a step. Hot pain ran up her leg. She bit her lip to keep from crying. Her eyes filled with tears. Eyes on the ground, she took another step. The pain was incredible. Losing her balance, she fell to the ground. The rain and mud only made things worse. She took off her sweater, left with only her t-shirt on. Sorely missing the jacket she left with her dad, she ripped up her shirt for a make shift bandage. Knotting the strips as tightly as she could around her ankle, she tried to stand. Sark stood there quietly watching the whole ordeal. He tried to hide a grin but his eyes were twinkling. Eyes on a large branch, she crawled over and lifted it from the mud. Using to support herself, she walked over to Sark.
"Ready?" he asked.
All she could do was nod. She was afraid if she said anything, she would start to cry. Sark stood there awed at how well she handled so much pain. She is nothing to you, he reminded himself. Let her be stubborn. Where's her precious little handler now? Slowly, they began their descent to the airport. He walked behind her, shining the light ahead. Her shoulders shivered uncontrollably and her free hand was in a tight fist from all the pain.
"Alright?" he asked.
"Absolutely," she replied, her voice faltering.
Pity actually tugged at the place where his heart should be. It was a rare thing. He walked up next to the struggling Sydney. He debated what to do. He could either be helpful or rude.
"You're shivering."
"In this weather, imagine that?"
That's mature, he thought. "Here take my coat. We are going to be late if we don't hurry, and I can't have a sick hostage."
"Believe me Sark, your hostage is fine."
"I can tell, just take the coat. You're not proving anything." Frustration crossed his usually emotion free speech. She was being so difficult
"No," she responded. The click of his gun made her freeze.
"This is ridiculous." He took a step closer to her shivering body. "Take my coat. We don't have time for this."
The coat did look tempting. She nodded telling herself she had no choice. She turned around and began to shift her weight so she could grab the coat. Sark, in one motion, put the coat on her free arm and over her shoulders before retreating back behind her.
"Hurry up. We are going to be late, It's not much farther, just over the hill," he added, his voice void of emotion.
She glared over her shoulder and continued slowly up the hill.
thanks for reading, please review!! (remember to keep them nice and constructive, no bad words and such!! thanks!)
She sat in the car for the second time that night, holding back a sob, but she could not stop the tears from dripping down her cheeks. She was so angry at herself for crying, especially in front of Sark. She could not get the image of her dad in the shadows, barely alive, from her head. She wondered if the CIA had started searching for her yet. Sark had warned that if anyone followed her or made contact with her, that Will would die. According to Sark, five of his men were surrounding Will's house, ready to kill him. No one at the time was willing to take the chance, but now that Jack was going to the hospital and she hadn't returned, she prayed the CIA was looking. She stared angrily down at the handcuffs on her wrist. They made escaping twice as difficult. What she wouldn't give for a hairpin. She tilted her wrist and in the darkness tried to read her watch. It was either 9:55 or 11:45. She couldn't tell and had no clue how much time had passed since she left the CIA. It had all happened in a blur. Her wet hair dripped down her back, off her shirt and onto the expensive leather with a satisfying splash. She started to shiver. The handcuffs' cold metallic jingle broke the silence in the car. Sark turned around and glanced at Sydney. She looked down determined to hide her despair. Her tear stained face glistened, reflecting the headlights of the passing cars.
"Are you cold?" Sark asked, his voice empty of emotion.
"It's not going to work," she whispered, ignoring his question. It was the first thing she had said since leaving the safe house.
"Excuse me?"
"Whatever you are planning, won't work," she continued, her voice growing stronger as she continued, "The CIA will find me." She barely believed the words as she said them.
"Don't be so sure Ms. Bristow, you didn't think anyone knew you were a double agent and look where that got you. Did you actually think you would fool me. It's fascinating really, you always try to find the good in a person. I don't know anyone besides you like that, except for maybe your mother, when I first met her." Sark paused, ending softly, "And you trust people easily, too. Too easily. You would even trust your mother if you found her again, wouldn't you?" Aware only to a small extent how perfectly he had read her, he waited for the response he knew wouldn't come. She shivered, angry she didn't know anything about him. His past was a mystery and she barely understood the present.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"To an airport," he replied.
"And then?"
"Need to know basis, Ms. Bristow," he answered, not offering any more details.
She sat there fuming for a moment before continuing, "So you're hiding?"
"You could call it that. I don't have much of a choice. People don't take kindly to betrayal in this business."
She sighed, grateful to some degree it was Sark saying that to her and not Sloane. "So, why do you need me?"
"For one, I can't have you leaking to the CIA where I am and what I'm doing, and secondly--"
"But I don't know what your doing or where your going!" she interrupted.
"Let me finish Ms. Bristow--"
"Finish what Sark? There isn't a good reason. Is it so you can have a friend?" she asked mockingly, determined to get back at him for understanding her so well. It was a poor attempt.
"Right on, Ms. Bristow, you have me all figured out," he replied sarcastically. He leaned over and reached for his cell.
"Luke, any more news?" He started before lowering his voice.
She couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. Sark voice went from weary to angry by the end of the conversation.
"Sydney?"he asked, not realizing he called her by her first name.
"What?" she asked, still surprised from being called Sydney.
"Just.," he started but then stopped, "Just know it might be a rough trip."
She couldn't understand Sark. He never showed his emotions, but when he did it left her even more confused. Exhaustion set in and she slowly started to sleep.
Bright lights shining in her face, woke her. She saw a huge SUV coming down the wrong side of the road. The headlights blared in their faces. Accelerating, Sark swerved to the left to avoid getting struck. Sydney watched in horror as the SUV barely missed their car. Their car spun out of control and skidded into a small ditch. The SUV tipped over in the middle of the road. Sark jumped out and approached the SUV, gun drawn. A man crawled out and started firing at Sark as he ran into the field by the road. Sark ran after him, took aim and fired. He watched silently as the man dropped to the ground.
All Sydney heard was the gunshots. She was jammed on the floor between the seats. Cautiously she moved her legs, then her arms. Her ankle screamed with pain when she moved it. It was already beginning to swell. Painfully, she pulled herself back onto the seat. She watched as Sark calmly came back to the car and inspected it for damage. He walked around with a flashlight. He's perfectly fine, she thought, unfortunately.
"That could have been worse. Okay back there?"
"Never been better," she answered.
"Do you always have swollen ankles then?"
"I'm fine Sark, how's the car?"
Sark walked over with the flashlight and attempted to start the engine. Nothing happened.
"Sark? What now?"
"Were ½ a mile from the airport, it would only be 20 minutes on foot" he stated leaving it up to her.
"What? No! You want me to walk?"
"What? You broke out of Taipei with a gunshot wound just fine."
"I wasn't walking on my hands Sark."
"If you're not up to it," he replied with mock resignation, "I'm sure there's another assassin waiting around that would be more than happy to take you home."
"Point made, let's go."
"After you."
He held the flashlight and opened the door. He unlocked her handcuffs and reached down to help her out. She pushed him away. Supporting herself against the car, she tenderly took a step. Hot pain ran up her leg. She bit her lip to keep from crying. Her eyes filled with tears. Eyes on the ground, she took another step. The pain was incredible. Losing her balance, she fell to the ground. The rain and mud only made things worse. She took off her sweater, left with only her t-shirt on. Sorely missing the jacket she left with her dad, she ripped up her shirt for a make shift bandage. Knotting the strips as tightly as she could around her ankle, she tried to stand. Sark stood there quietly watching the whole ordeal. He tried to hide a grin but his eyes were twinkling. Eyes on a large branch, she crawled over and lifted it from the mud. Using to support herself, she walked over to Sark.
"Ready?" he asked.
All she could do was nod. She was afraid if she said anything, she would start to cry. Sark stood there awed at how well she handled so much pain. She is nothing to you, he reminded himself. Let her be stubborn. Where's her precious little handler now? Slowly, they began their descent to the airport. He walked behind her, shining the light ahead. Her shoulders shivered uncontrollably and her free hand was in a tight fist from all the pain.
"Alright?" he asked.
"Absolutely," she replied, her voice faltering.
Pity actually tugged at the place where his heart should be. It was a rare thing. He walked up next to the struggling Sydney. He debated what to do. He could either be helpful or rude.
"You're shivering."
"In this weather, imagine that?"
That's mature, he thought. "Here take my coat. We are going to be late if we don't hurry, and I can't have a sick hostage."
"Believe me Sark, your hostage is fine."
"I can tell, just take the coat. You're not proving anything." Frustration crossed his usually emotion free speech. She was being so difficult
"No," she responded. The click of his gun made her freeze.
"This is ridiculous." He took a step closer to her shivering body. "Take my coat. We don't have time for this."
The coat did look tempting. She nodded telling herself she had no choice. She turned around and began to shift her weight so she could grab the coat. Sark, in one motion, put the coat on her free arm and over her shoulders before retreating back behind her.
"Hurry up. We are going to be late, It's not much farther, just over the hill," he added, his voice void of emotion.
She glared over her shoulder and continued slowly up the hill.
thanks for reading, please review!! (remember to keep them nice and constructive, no bad words and such!! thanks!)