Discovery



Sydney had knocked Sark to the ground as the shot from Jack's rifle whizzed past. She laid on top of him, panting, recovering from her shock.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice strained.

Sark hesitated a moment before replying coyly, "Perfect."

Sydney gave a quick nod and after a moment, her breathing had returned to normal. She found herself staring into Sark's eyes, becoming hypnotized by them.

Her eyelids suddenly felt heavy and her lips had involuntarily parted slightly.

This is it. This is my chance.

"Sydney!" Jack called, jogging up to his daughter.

Sydney scrambled off of Sark and stood up quickly, brushing herself off. She was grateful that the tunnel wasn't well lit, because she knew her face was flushed with arousal. She tried to hide the fact that she was pissed that she didn't get to kiss Sark.

"Sydney, what the hell is going on?" Jack demanded.

"Dad, Sark and Mom are on our side," Sydney told him.

"What are you talking about?"

Sydney shook her head, a little frustrated. "Dad, it's a long story, and I promise I will explain everything to you later, but right now we need to get Mom to a hospital."

"Why? What happened?" Jack questioned.

Sydney swallowed hard. "I shot her."

Jack nodded slowly and glanced at Irina, then at Sark, doing a double take when he saw that for some reason, Sark had on no shirt. But Jack looked back at Irina and saw that Sark had obviously used his shirt to help soak up the blood and he understood.

"I'll get Dixon and we'll contact Kendall, explain what happened, and have him direct us to the nearest hospital."

"Okay," Sydney said, "We'll wait here."

Jack glared at Sark for a moment, not exactly trusting him, then turned and jogged back down the tunnel.

Sydney sighed heavily and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop shaking. She turned around and went back over to her mother, dropping to her knees. Sark knelt down beside her and picked up his shirt lying on Irina's wound, soaked in blood. It was then that Sydney realized that Sark was shirtless. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, taking in his muscled chest and well-defined abdomen. She sighed a bit and turned back to her mother.

Tears filled her eyes and she lurched forward with the sobs that tore from her. She managed to take off her jacket with some difficulty and put it over the wound. She sat on her knees and held her head in her hands, sobbing.

"I can't believe I—shot—my own mother," she managed to choke out.

"Sydney, Sydney," Irina coaxed, grasping one of her daughter's hands and pulling it away from Sydney's face.

Sark tentatively reached a hand up to Sydney's face and gently moved Sydney's other hand away and squeezed it gently. Sydney looked over at Sark, her doe eyes glistening. Sark stared back at her, his soft blue eyes filled with concern. Sydney and Sark looked down at their linked hands at the same time.

Irina watched the exchange carefully and her mouth curved into a smile. It was clear to her that there was an opportunity for love between her daughter and Sark.

It made sense.

Sark had quite literally met his match in Sydney in more ways than one. They were both intelligent, tough, sarcastic, and romantics at heart. They needed each other, probably more than either of them could ever know, no matter what they said.

Just then, Jack came walking briskly down the tunnel with Dixon.

"I already made contact with Kendall. He gave us directions to the nearest hospital," Jack announced.

Sydney and Sark released one another's hands and stood up. Jack and Dixon carefully lifted Irina up.

"There's a ramp that will make it easier for us to get her out," Sark told Jack and Dixon as he helped both of them hold Irina.

"Okay," Jack said as they began to walk.

"And if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to make a quick detour to obtain another shirt."

"Of course," Jack said, as they continued to move.

Sydney stayed behind a moment, watching Sark walk. It was still hard for her to comprehend that Sark was on her side, but she was absolutely relieved that it was okay for her to like him without having to worry about any danger in the fact that he could be her enemy.

Their moment just a couple of minutes before had made her realize that perhaps he had feelings for her as well, that his act of grasping her hand when she was crying wasn't just an act of comforting but an act of love. If that was true, then it would make it that much easier for her to admit her feelings to him.

She started to walk and her steps were light and airy, although she was definitely favoring her left ankle a bit. Her eyes were twinkling, her mouth was turned up in a smile, and her heart was fluttering in her chest.

I'm in love.


A few hours later, Sydney was sitting in the waiting room of the local hospital after she had gotten an x-ray of her ankle and been told that it was just sprained. A doctor had wrapped it for her and given her crutches, which she politely refused, saying she didn't need them. The doctor had raised an eyebrow at her, ready to tell her to take them anyway, but was won over by her dazzling, reassuring smile.

She sat quietly, staring off into space, waiting for her mother to come out of surgery and for the doctor to tell her she could visit.

"Here," Sark said, startling her. He was holding some coffee.

Sydney lifted her head and Sark frowned at her bloodshot eyes. Sydney managed a weak smile and took the Styrofoam cup that Sark held out to her. Sark sat down in the chair next to her and kept his gaze focused on her. He was aware of the fact that her whole body was trembling and that she looked deathly pale.

"Please drink that," he said, his voice kind but firm.

Sydney nodded slowly and took a sip. "Thanks," she said quietly, turning towards him and giving him a small smile.

"You're welcome."

Sydney stared down into the cup, looking at her reflection. She sighed and took another drink from it—this one long—and scalded her mouth, as if she wanted to punish herself somehow for what she had done to her mother and she was trying to find any kind of way to do it. Sark took the cup from her before she could scald herself anymore and gave her the "look."

The one where one side of his mouth was turned down and his eyes were narrowed and one could tell that he disapproved of what he saw and was biting his tongue to keep from making a comment about his dissatisfaction.

After a moment, when he had caught Sydney's gaze and let her see that he was indeed disappointed with her actions, his eyes softened and he reached a hand up, carefully moving a few strands of hair away from her face, then having to stop himself from stroking her cheek.

He cleared his throat abruptly and turned back around, handing Sydney back the coffee. Sydney felt an aching in her chest. She wanted his hand back where it was—it was comforting to her.

Sydney had to use all her might to restrain herself from just grabbing him and melding her lips to his right there. Instead, she decided she would wait for the right moment. The right moment certainly wasn't in a crowded Tuscan hospital worrying about her mother who was in God-knows-what condition.

She stole a glance at Sark and found him staring straight ahead, a slight blush in his cheeks. He was obviously embarrassed at what had just taken place in the last minute probably because he was afraid to admit he had feelings for her.

Sydney blushed as well and smiled.