Sark peered out into the corridor and was surprised to see it completely empty. He opened the door and walked out into the hallway, cautiously looking around. He kept scanning as he slipped on his jacket and buttoned it in a hopeless attempt to cover up his ripped shirt. "The coast is clear, Sydney."
Sydney fixed her dress and walked through the door he held open. She also did a quick scan of the corridor. Deciding that it was okay, she began to walk down it. A few feet later, she hesitated, turned back to Sark, and asked, "So what does this mean?"
He wished that he could find it in his heart to pretend to have no idea what she was talking about, but not even he was that cruel. "I'm not sure. We can figure that out as soon as we get out of this building and meet up with my sister."
Sydney nodded and started walking again. She heard Sark's footsteps quicken as he rushed to catch up to her. When they were walking shoulder to shoulder, she felt his hand slip into hers.
"I know you're scared. Don't be. We're going to get out of here."
She had no idea how he knew that she was scared, but for one of the first times, she was ready to admit that she did feel safer knowing that he was next to her.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
They eventually emerged into the main club and weren't surprised to find it deserted. It had to be at least seven in the morning by now, and not even the hottest club in Paris would still be booming. Sydney felt her heart leap slightly at the prospect of getting out of this horrible situation.
Still hand-in-hand, they began to run across the floor of the club since the end was in sight.
"Not so fast," yelled a Russian voice from up on stage.
They turned to see a small figure standing on the stage holding a gun to them. The figure was dressed all in black and had a black ski mask covering their face. Without any communication between them, Sydney and Sark both ran for cover. They weren't surprised to hear the agent begin to shoot at them.
Sark made it to the stage first and kicked their attacker squarely in the back. The agent dropped to the floor but didn't loose the gun. As he made a move to kick the downed person in the gut, a cleverly executed roll made the kick miss its mark.
The agent laughed while standing up. "You are horribly predictable, Mr. Sark."
"And you're easily distracted," Sydney said as she went to punch the agent in the head.
"Not even close," was the reply as the blow was dodged. Sydney felt a foot connect with her abdomen and felt herself being flung off the stage.
Sark let the anger rise to his head and made a lunge which the agent quickly sidestepped. He found himself face down on the stage. As he turned over, he saw their attacker draw the gun again.
"Don't move." Sark stole a glance at Sydney and saw her stand up, pretty much unharmed. "Is that relief I see in your eyes? This woman means something to you, doesn't she?"
Sark didn't reply. This seemed to infuriate the agent even more. The agent walked over to Sark and used the butt of the gun to hit him in the head.
"We'll see how much you care about her now," the agent whispered in his ear as he reeled in pain.
It was almost like slow motion. Sark watched their attacker stand up and point the gun at Sydney. He saw Sydney freeze in her tracks. He heard the sound of the gun being fired. Afterwards, he swore he saw the bullet fly through the air and hit Sydney in the chest. Then there was this inhuman howl, and Sydney's body hit the floor.
It was only later that he realized the howl had come from his throat.
"Go to her," the Russian agent whispered. "You probably want to be with her during her last moments on earth."
Under normal circumstances, Sark would have taken the agent down first and then gone to Sydney's side. But it seemed like he had left all his common sense behind after he heard the gun go off. He forgot that the Covenant agent was even there and stumbled over to Sydney's side.
"Syd?" he muttered. He couldn't believe that there was barely any blood on her.
She coughed and looked up at him. "You promised you'd get me out of here," she whispered.
"And I will. I told you that you could always trust me."
"I let you down." She laughed lightly. "You told me before when we were Mexico City that I had never let you down or hurt you. That I never could. I guess you were wrong."
"You haven't let me down," Sark said. "Not as long as you keep fighting."
"I'm too tired to fight, Sark." He felt his heart freeze as her breathing began to slow considerable.
"You are not too tired, Sydney. You are the strongest person I know. Which is why you're going to keep fighting for me."
She looked up into his eyes. "Don't cry," she whispered.
With that comment, he realized that there were in fact tears flowing from his eyes. "It's a miracle, Sydney. You've made me cry." He hoped the humor and sarcasm would keep her talking.
"Please don't cry for me. I'm not in any pain."
That comment scared Sark. If she wasn't feeling any pain, the bullet wound was a lot worse than he expected.
"I love you," Sydney whispered. "Even your flaws."
"That's right. You stuck around through it all, which is why I need you to keep fighting."
"I saw you kill those men earlier."
"I know. I'm sorry for that."
"It's a part of who you are, I know that. And I don't think I mind it. It's what makes you you."
"Sydney, I don't like this fatalistic tone you have."
"I'm dying. We both know that."
"You can't die on me now, Sydney. Not now."
"Why not? Your life will be simpler without me in it. I just complicate things. You're better off without me hanging around, getting shot, screwing things up."
"I like my complicated life with you. I've gotten used to it. I've gotten used to you in it."
Sydney's breathing became a little shallower, and Sark could hear her struggle for air. "I can't hold on for much longer. I'm sorry. I love you, Julian."
Sark felt Sydney's body go limp in his arms as her eyes slowly slid shut. "No," he kept repeating over and over. "I didn't even tell you I loved you. You can't leave me until I've told you. You can't leave me now that I've figured that out. Please. Come back, Sydney. I need you. Come back."
Sark continued to cry with her in his arms until he heard clapping from the stage. The agent who had shot Sydney was still standing there waiting for him.
"That was a brilliant act," the agent snarled. "I almost believed you actually loved her."
"I did love her," Sark said with vehemence.
"You're incapable of loving," the agent replied.
"You don't know me."
"But I do." The agent slid the ski mask off their face and smiled proudly at a stunned Sark.
