The Day It All Came Crashing Down



Sydney awoke in Sark's arms and found that he was still asleep. She ran a hand through his hair then slipped out of bed silently, so as not to wake him. She surveyed her clothes lying in all corners of the room from her and Sark's activities earlier. She gathered up her clothes and Sark's boxers and set them on a nearby chair, then picked up her suitcase and set it on the bed, checking again to see that Sark was still asleep.

A content sigh escaped her lips and she allowed herself to briefly imagine that this was where she lived. She liked it. It was peaceful and comforting and it just had some sort of cozy feel about it. She wondered what things would be like for the two of them after today, after Sloane had been erased from their lives forever.

She smiled then, pawing through the items in her suitcase. Sloane would be gone and she and Sark would be able to live without the worry that Sloane was looking over their shoulders or attempting to ruin both of their lives. She sighed again, then cursed under her breath as she couldn't find what she wanted to wear.

Sydney planned to make herself and Sark breakfast in bed for two reasons. One reason was that she felt comfortable doing it, as if it were an everyday occurrence. Even though it wasn't, Sydney wanted it to be one. She wanted to have a normal life with Sark where they could do things like make each other breakfast in bed every so often.

The second reason was simply that if Sloane arrived while they were eating, it would not only help convince Sloane to believe what Sark had fabricated about Sark's manipulation of Sydney, but it would give them time to plan a bit before going downstairs.

Exasperated at the clothing she had brought with her—tops, jeans, and a skirt—she went for Sark's suitcase. She grinned to herself as she propped the suitcase up on the bed, imagining herself in a pair of Sark's boxers with a tight top stretched across her breasts.

Perhaps, when Sark observed her in the ensemble, breakfast would be skipped. A wry smile crossed her lips.

Sydney pulled a white tank top from her own suitcase, then grabbed a pair of blood-red boxers from Sark's suitcase. She zipped up both suitcases and set them down on the floor, checking once again to see that Sark hadn't awakened. She smiled at his long lashes, his pursed lips—with his crooked bottom one seriously tempting Sydney to chew on it—and his tousled blond hair.

She tugged on the boxers, suppressing a moan at the way the silk caressed her skin, then pulled on the tank top that rested just above her navel. She glanced at Sark again, smiled briefly, and padded to the bathroom for a robe, as she didn't exactly want her mother to see her in such an ensemble. She would just have to make sure she opened the robe when she was returning to her and Sark's room with their breakfast.

Sydney spied two robes in the bathroom and selected one, slipping it on silently and tying it tight around her. She left the room and went to the stairs, eyeing the railing and seriously considering just sliding down the damn thing. But she forced herself not to give in to that urge and instead took the stairs two at a time, the ends of the robe flapping against her ankles.

At the bottom of the stairs, Sydney retied the robe and checked her watch, finding that it was after ten. She padded across the foyer and made her way to the kitchen. She opened the pantry and looked for some kind of pancake mix. Her slender fingers finally rested on a box, and she took it out, then grabbed a bottle of vegetable oil and closed the door of the pantry.

She went to the stove and set the box on the counter as she leaned over to open a cupboard. A voice behind her made her jump.

"Morning," Irina greeted her from the table, lowering her newspaper slightly to give Sydney a smile.

"H-hey," Sydney replied, catching her breath from her scare.

"Pancakes, eh?" Irina asked, smiling again.

Sydney nodded and returned the smile as she set a frying pan on the stove then opened some more cupboards as she looked for a mixing bowl. Once she found one, she set it on the counter and began looking for a whisk and a measuring cup.

She gathered the appropriate amounts of what she needed and finally began mixing the ingredients, smiling to herself as she enjoyed the carefree atmosphere. It would be completely carefree after today, after Sloane was finally gone in whatever way he was eliminated, and Sydney decided that she could definitely get used to these types of mornings.

Sighing contentedly, she lazily brushed the pan with some oil and poured some batter into it. She pulled a plate from a nearby cupboard and set it on the counter, then turned the oven on a low setting so she could keep the pancakes warm as they finished cooking in intervals. She was reaching to open a drawer to retrieve a spatula when her mother spoke.

"You seem so happy, Sydney," Irina said, lowering her newspaper, tilting her head in something that seemed like pity, and frowning at Sydney.

Sydney swallowed hard and bit her lip as she plucked a spatula from the drawer and all but slammed the drawer shut and dropped the spatula onto the counter with a conspicuous crack. She turned to face her mother, and, after casting a quick glance at the batter in the pan, rested her palms on the countertop and leaned against it, fixing her mother with a cold stare.

"Should I not be happy?" she snapped, her eyes narrowed. "Is there something you haven't told me that's going to fuck up this supposed plan to dispose of Sloane?"

Irina sighed and rested an elbow on the table, clenching her fist and setting her chin upon it. "It's just that it's going to be dangerous, this whole scheme. It's very possible that Sloane could arrive here with a small army of minions that he recruited into his plan. I don't want you to get your hopes up, as this plan may not work, or might take longer than we anticipated."

Sydney's eyes grew wide. "Well Christ, I thought this was expertly discussed between you and Andrew of what exactly is going to happen. I figured you would have thought of everything and had every sort of back-up option planned out, and now here you're literally telling me that we're playing this whole thing by ear!" she exploded, beginning to pace the floor.

Irina stayed put in her chair, sighing heavily. "Look, Sydney, we can't make any brash decisions without finding out everything that Sloane is doing or planning on doing. We need to pump him full of questions, and maybe, maybe, we'll be able to get rid of him. Otherwise, we'll have to pretend to keep up our charade, making things up as we go, and calling the CIA to take him into custody and hold him for as long as they see fit."

If Sydney's temper wasn't flaring already, it sure as hell was now. "We might have to bring the CI-fucking-A into this?!" She paced the kitchen angrily. "I thought this was our little plan! I thought we were doing this so that we could go home and be patted on the back for a job well done, and so that the CIA would be able to breathe a sigh of relief that Sloane was finally gone!"

Irina stood up then, and stood in front of Sydney, blocking her path and pissing her off further. "Sydney, there is no other way to do this!" she said, her voice rising in volume. "We have no choice but to ask him the questions we need to ask, then go from there. If it means hanging on to him for a little longer than we have to, then so be it!"

Sydney pursed her lips together and stared, unblinking, into her mother's eyes. "Andrew seemed uneasy at the idea of killing him in cold blood."

Irina nodded a bit, lowering her gaze to the floor for an instant, then meeting Sydney's eyes again. "To tell you the truth, I'm a bit unsettled with the idea, myself."

Sydney scoffed audibly and began speaking rapidly, the words pouring out of her mouth in a steady stream that she regretted. "How could you be unsettled by it? In the cold-blooded murder department, you were probably worse than—"

A wave of hurt and anger flashed over Irina's face before she delivered a hard slap across Sydney's face. Sydney didn't move as she let the reality of what had just happened sink into her brain. Irina stood in place, willing Sydney to say something more, to wince, or to back away. Sydney did none of those things, and instead stood her ground, her eyes empty but fixed on her mother nonetheless.

Irina moved first, stepping around Sydney to look at the basically ruined pancake sizzling in the pan. Sydney looked over her shoulder to eye the pancake, then turned around and switched off the burner and the oven.

So much for breakfast in bed, she thought derisively. Christ.

She sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly, then took the pan over to the sink and attempted to scrape the burnt pancake off of it. After thoroughly cleaning the pan, Sydney left it to dry in the dish drainer, then proceeded to pour the contents of the mixing bowl down the sink. She knew she had plenty of batter for more pancakes, but her outburst and her mother's subsequent response and slap had permanently spoiled her appetite.

So, Sydney scrubbed the mixing bowl and whisk and left those to dry as well, then dried her hands on a nearby towel and slung it carelessly back on its hook. She stood, staring out the small kitchen window. Then, the combination of her argument with her mother, the situation with Sloane, and the now seemingly pointless hope of any quick solution to eliminating Sloane crashed down on Sydney all at once. Her hands shook and she gripped the countertop tightly, trying to steel herself against the sobs that threatened to rack her body.

A single tear fell from her eye, and Sydney knew then that she had lost the battle. A sob escaped from her throat and she wrapped her arms around herself as she cried. She knew her mother was standing right behind her, and—despite the pride-bruising she had suffered earlier—she wanted nothing more than for her mother to console her.

Sydney got her wish as her mother stepped towards her, wrapping her arms tightly around Sydney, resting her chin on her shoulder. Irina whispered whatever comforting words she could into Sydney's ear.

"I want this to be over," Sydney whispered, her voice shaky and tinged with sobs.

"I know, babe," Irina whispered, rocking Sydney gently back and forth and sighing sadly, "I know."