Syrina

Chapter Twelve

End

"This is it."

Syrina was sort of disappointed in the great machine that had intruded on her life for as long as she could remember.  The machine was small, no bigger than her laptop.  She recognized different parts of Rambaldi's artifacts, broken down into the smallest bits, combining together to make this mechanism.  Syrina could feel all of her worry deflating, which made her feel relieved.  All the dread she'd put into coming there seemed like a complete waste of time.  Syrina looked over at Sydney, to gage the other spy's reaction.  Syrina watched as a maniacal gleam came into Sydney's amber eyes and a sudden knowingness surged through Syrina.  Sydney wanted to destroy the world.  She wanted to make that machine do whatever it was made to do and bring an end to everything that was alive at that time.  Sydney took a few tentative steps forward, her hands reaching out to touch the glorious device.  The world deserved what it was going to get.  All the pain she'd felt, all the loss she'd experienced would be over once she set the plan into motion.  She knew instinctively what she was supposed to do, set the dial to bring about the Apocalypse.  She wanted to.  Her life suddenly seemed to make sense; everything she'd done suddenly had meaning.  She wanted to bring her wrath down.  She'd lost her fiancé, her best friends, her family, and her innocence.  She'd lost her belief in people and she'd lost her own way.  Now she knew.  She had to make humanity pay for it's own evil.  Ever since The Fall from Grace, humanity had gone downwards into a spiral of hate and despair.  Sydney could bring an end to that.  She could put everyone out of their misery.  Syrina watched in horrid fascination as emotions raged on Sydney's face and eyes as she reached towards the machine.  Syrina wasn't sure what to do.  She knew she wasn't impressed by the machine, she didn't feel like she had some need to fulfill the prophecy of ending the world.  No, she wanted to live.  She tried to move, but seemed to be frozen in her spot.  Sydney touched the appliance, the metal cold and solid.  Her hands ran over the contours of the device, her fingers gliding over every inch.  They stopped on the dial.  Sydney lifted it to set just as Syrina yelled out, "Sydney, don't do it!"

Sydney turned, an evil glint in her eyes.  "I'm helping the world.  I'm putting us out of our misery, Syrina.  Don't you see?  This is our way out!  Out of spying, out of deceit and danger.  We'll be free!"

"We'll be dead.  There's no freedom in death.  Especially so young.  We have our whole lives to live."

"You maybe.  My life ended a long time ago."

"It's only begun.  You can leave the life.  I know I will.  We just have to get out of here."

"Don't try to stop me."

Syrina sighed.  She didn't really want to fight Sydney.  She wasn't particularly in the mood to.  She just wanted to get out of that bloody warehouse and back to Andrew, back home.

"Think about what you can do after we leave here."
"Back into the world of murder and hate?  There isn't anything out there to make me want to go on."

"Oh, get over it.  Life sucks.  That's no reason to destroy the entire universe."

Sydney started to turn the dial, but Syrina kicked.  The machine flew into the air and Sydney gasped.  She cursed before attacking Syrina.  She punched Syrina and she heard her jaw crack.  No doubt she was in pain, but Syrina wasn't going to let Sydney finish what she'd started.  Syrina ducked Sydney's next fist and brought her knee up into Sydney's stomach.  Sydney brought her elbow up and hit Syrina in the diaphragm.  Syrina gasped for air, unable to breath.  Her ribs felt like they'd cracked from the pressure.  She watched as Il Dire fell down, almost into Sydney's open arms.  Syrina kicked her legs up; knocking Sydney back and Il Dire fell to the floor.  Syrina stood over the device and started clawing at the machine.  She tore it bit by bit, but before it was completely disengaged, she was jerked back by her long brown hair.  Syrina yelped and struggled to get away, but Sydney punched her in the face again.  And again. Syrina was at an awkward angle and she could get away from Sydney.  Sydney kicked her ribs and this time Syrina knew they were broken.  She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in that much pain.  She prayed for a moment that Il Dire was destroyed as she heard Sydney scream in agony.  Sydney dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face.  Syrina scooted away and lifted the machine once more and crashed it against the cement floor.  She left, masking her pain, leaving Sydney on the floor, writhing and crying in pain.

            Sark glanced at his watch again.  He wished he could go inside the warehouse and protect Syrina from whatever was supposed to happen. He wanted to shield her from any more pain.  He was anxious as well as impatient.  He wanted to know what was happening.  Too bad Rambaldi's bloody prophecy didn't say exactly what would happen.  He could hear screaming and yelling and he had to fight the urge to run inside the warehouse and destroy Il Dire once and for all.  Maybe after this was over, he could take Syrina away from this.  She could go to a regular high school and live a normal life.  Yeah, right.  Neither of them would be able to stand that.  Sark started to tap his foot, watching the entryway.  Just any sign that it was all over would be all right with him.  Syrina finally emerged, bloody and bruised, gasping for air.  She looked like she was about to collapse.  Sark dashed forward in time to catch her in his arms.  She closed her eyes, trying to divert her focus from the pain she felt.  She was pretty sure Sydney had broken her ribs and she might have punctured a lung.  She couldn't breath, her chest felt tight.  She stared up into Sark's crystal blue eyes, suddenly looking like the little girl from long ago, begging Sark to take her to an amusement park or a picture. 

"It's over.  She's inside.  You should send someone."

Sark called into his comm. link "Brennan, head inside.  Sydney's still in there.  It's finished."

Brennan shouted an affirmative before heading inside the warehouse.  Sark turned his attention back on Syrina, brushing her hair back, but found it matted with blood.  Had she wounded her head?  Perhaps it was from one of the many times she'd fallen to the ground.

"Syri, you did a smashing job.  I'm so proud of you." 

He glanced around, looking for Alli, hoping she would see the dire situation Syrina was in and call an ambulance.  He saw Allison standing under a tree, watching but not moving.

"Allison, call an ambulance. Hurry."

"We can't bring outside sources into this, Andrew."

"We have to, Allison.  She needs one desperately."

"Guess she's not as tough as she thought she was."

"Allison, call one.  Right now.  That's an order."

Allison watched him, trying to decide if she should defy him or not.  She finally pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number.  Syrina closed her eyes, feeling exhausted.  All she wanted to do was sleep.  She could talk to Andrew the next day or any other day after that.

"No. Syrina, you have to stay awake right now."

"I'm so tired, Andrew."

"I know you are, Little One. Please, Love, stay awake for a just a bit more."

Syrina focused her eyes on him, watching his beautifully ironic angelic face.

            Brennan found Sydney in a heap on the floor.  Next to her lay broken pieces of old, brittle metal.  Sydney was sobbing, pain, loss and confusion spreading over her.  She was in pain from her fight with Syrina as well; a cut above her eyebrow, a bruise forming on her arm, and a wrist probably fractured from that kick Syrina had produced. Sydney had still fared much better than Syrina had.  Brennan knelt next to her and spoke in his soothing Southern accent.

"Sydney.  You did a great job, Darlin'.  Come on now. We need to get out of this awful warehouse.  Syrina needs us to help her get fixed up.  She looked pretty bad.  Apparently you pack quite a punch."

Sydney lifted her head, the despair evident on her face.  Brennan placed a gentle arm around her.
"I almost ended the world, Brennan."

"That's nothin', Sydney.  Just another day in the neighborhood."

Sydney coughed a little.  "You just referenced Mr. Rogers." 

"You'll find I reference things a lot.  Now get up and stop your caterwauling." 

"Do people even use that word anymore?"

"I do, Miss Bristow.  Do you have a problem with that?"

"I suppose I don't."  Sydney paused, the tears slowing to a stop.

"Where am I supposed to go after this?  Back to LA?  I don't think I want to."
"You could always come with me.  I have quite a spread in Germany.  I'm kind of tired of being on missions all the time.  I figured I'd take a break.  You could as well."

Sydney tilted her head.  "I guess I could."

Brennan shot her a 1000-watt smile.  He stood, offering her a hand.  Sydney took it, wondering what she was getting herself into, but not really caring.  They walked out into the moonlight together, finding Sark rocking Syrina as gently as he would be a baby.

            Syrina couldn't keep her eyes open.  Her chest pains were worsening and she didn't know what to do to stop them.  Sark kept talking to her in his comforting British accent, trying to get her to stay awake.  She wanted to.  She wanted to talk to him and tell him that she was in love with him.  It wasn't a puppy dog crush like everyone thought.  She was truly, madly in love with him.  The pain was a little too much, though, and the desire to sleep was overwhelming her.  Her breathing was hitched and she could see the fear in Sark's eyes.  He was probably afraid she was going to leave him, just like everyone else did.  She was afraid of that, too.

"Syri, you know I love you, don't you?"

"I know.  I'm like your little sister."

"No.  You're not.  You're a woman with whom I've fallen deeply in love with.  I couldn't stop myself."

Syrina smiled, or attempted it.  It was becoming increasingly hard to breath.  She was pretty sure her lung was gone, that she was only breathing on one.  Her jaw hurt, she could hardly speak.  Still, she wanted him to know how she felt.
"I love you, too, Andrew.  I always have."

"I know, Love."

Her eyes shut, trying to think happy thoughts.  Rainbows.  Bunny Rabbits.  Sark's rare smile.

"I'll always love you."

Sark's face darkened, realizing that Syrina thought she was going to die.

"You aren't going to die, Syri.  I won't let that happen.  You know I will stop it."

"I always knew Rambaldi would kill us.  At least you got lucky, Andrew."

"Not if you die."

Syrina did smile this time, but it ended when another sharp pain shot through her heart.  Syrina gasped for air, but it wouldn't come.  Perhaps her other lung had been punctured.  Maybe she was tired of trying. Maybe she had no control over it at all.  But she couldn't breathe anymore.  Sark had been watching her chest rise and fall and he watched it stop.  He heard sirens from far away, but they were too late.  Maybe if he hadn't had to fight with Allison to call the paramedics, she would have lived.  Maybe if he'd stopped the Rambaldi nonsense a long time ago, she would have lived.  Maybe he had no control over it.  The red and blue flashing lights stopped in front of him.  Brennan was holding Sydney, which Sark didn't quite understand.  Allison stood alone, which he did understand.  And he couldn't let go of Syrina as the paramedics came and tried to revive her for 15 minutes before they declared her dead. 

Syrina Khasinau was a child. 

Syrina Khasinau was a woman. 

Syrina Khasinau was the best spy he'd ever known.

Syrina Khasinau had been evil.

Syrina Khasinau had been innocent. 

Syrina Khasinau died at age seventeen after several years of dangerous spying. 

Syrina Khasinau had not been alone. 

Andrew Sark, on the other hand, was alone.

A.N. That's the end!  I hope you all enjoyed it!  I hadn't really planned on killing Syrina off.  I was going to go the happily ever after route, but suddenly I realized that it would be better for Syrina to die.  Perhaps have more impact that way, maybe a tad bit more realistic.  Everything is not puppy dogs and sunshine, so I went that route.