Title: Escape
Rating: At the moment we shall stick with a PG, but it might get up to a PG- 13, who knows
Summary: Vaughn and Sydney have been captured by Cuvee and Jack and Irina must race to save them
Notes: Yes, another one, I'm a bit stuck with the other two, so I figured do something else. This started with a song, I won't name it, but then I figured I should make it into a proper fic, so now I want reviews if you want more.
Author: If you hadn't guessed, it's me, Aeria, Aeryn, Doona, depending where you know me from. Um, if you haven't read my other two, go read them: Wish List and True Lies. I live off reviews and promise more soon if I get them. I realise this is simular to True Lies, but it won't be really, cause it is different. Oh and no prizes for guessing which song first got me started cause it is obvious.
Chapter Three
Sark is looking mighty pleased, he always had a streak of jealousy when it came to Jack. I'd forced him to learn about him, about his triumphs and used his one downfall - me - to teach him where not to go in a life of crime. Every time he failed a mission or did something I thought not to be up to standard, I would tell him that Jack wouldn't have done that. Sark had watched videos of him and read CIA report detailing his work. And, now, they finally meet properly.
I want to laugh, but I think that a lapse in my concentration would result in Jack trying to kick my ase. He's watching me carefully, one eye on me and one on Sark who has positioned himself just off to Jack's right. I, myself, am blocking the door. He swallows and I want to speak, to tell him, but again, we're locked in stale mate. One thought entering my mind that isn't in regards to keeping Jack at bay and he will attack. But then, if I don't try, we'll still be standing here in an hour's time.
I stare at him, letting my eyes grow wide and forgetting Sark is even here. I take a deep breath and begin to speak. "It's not what you think." Completely serious, and no longer wanting to tease, to trick. Just to tell. I would have continued straight away but he was quicker than what I had expected. His foot connecting with the back of my shin and almost breaking the bone.
I hiss in pain, Sark stepping forward to help me but a shake of my head keeps him away. One on one is fair, if he wins, then Sark can have him. If I win, then, I win. He's watching me, knees bent, back arched, fists up with the thumbs on the outside, perfect posture. I'm sprawled on the ground, one leg off to the sign, the calf muscle whining at me in pain.
I spring up, my hands on the floor and my back arched. I let him see me and try again, "Jack, don't," but the minute my mouth opened he takes another shot, his right foot going around and into my left shoulder. Sark, luckily holds my ground, as one of my arms buckles. I have no choice but to give up talking, I have to make this quick and the pain temporary, Sydney's rescue still in my mind.
Leaping up and backwards, I appear to be pinned with my back to the door; he takes his chance and takes a punch at my chin. Timing myself perfectly, I dodge, throw a kick at his face and wince as I hear his jaw crack. Not broken, just bent out of shape. I can feel the anger seething off him in a waterfall, the rage uncontrolled and take another kick, quickly. I get both his legs, behind the knees and he falls to the ground.
His rage works against me and for me at the same time, his foot coming around and almost kicking my feet out from under me. I jump them carefully and do one of my more extravagant flips, landing a little further forward and out to the side. Unluckily, by this time, he's on his feat and in a second's glance I see Sark sitting on the bed, watching us carefully. What an arrogant prick. Jack takes his chance, seeing me look away and begins throwing punch after punch at me, holding nothing back. I block the majority getting hit only once in the stomach. I hurl my own fists at him, one after the other, from below, above and the sides, but he blocks each, his laboured breathing, the only sign that anything is affecting him.
Moving quickly I twist around to the back and up the pace, I throw a knee up into his spine, hopeful of doing no permanent harm to his back, but not sure I haven't. He crumples to the floor and I can't help but smile in his defeat. He just looks up at me with hate in his eyes; cold, dark hate and I again wince in pain.
Sark's hand lands gently on my elbow, I turn and grin at him, not ready for him to see my affected by a mere man. "I came as soon as you called." His voice is music to my ears. He is my best man, never questions what I ask of him, unless he believes my motives to be wrong. He never questions my loyalty and, in return, I never question his.
"Good," I tell him, letting my thick accent back into my words, knowing that he expects me only to use American English around Americans. "Sydney's been captured." Jack groans and I turn my attention back to him. Bending over him, I touch his back tenderly, feeling the skin bruised and bloated and search for a break, hoping that there isn't one. To him: "Can you move your legs?"
"You're a lying bitch. You've betrayed your only daughter." I shake my head, trying to ignore his words, but failing as I feel a wrench in my stomach. Despite his words, I can see him moving his legs a little and look to Sark.
"Get him up on the bed." Sark smiles at me and I hasten to add, "Gently."
Sark's brows raise in question and I nod, telling him that I will explain soon. He lifts Jack, my husband too sore to reject his help: I take this as a bad sign and cross to the other wall so that I can keep my distance.
Once he's sitting up, a hand holding all of his weight, Sark returns to my side and leans back against the wall, waiting. I bite my lip, trusting both men completely, but not sure where to start. Jack glares at me from beneath a battered forehead, a gash, bleeding slightly situated just above his eye.
Swallowing, I begin, "Jack. Jack, I haven't betrayed you or Sydney." He isn't listening, I try to inject more into my words, accent and emotion mingling in my throat while Sark watches the invisible wires between us. "Jack, Sark has been at SD-6 because I told him to go and work there."
Jack laughs, his voice a rasp and sarcastic. "No shit!"
I almost flinch back visibly, but stop myself, just in time. "I placed him there for two reasons." He still isn't listening. "Firstly, because I want to take them down, I like Sd-6 just as much as you. And secondly, because I want someone there who can keep an eye on Sydney." He just looks down, shaking his head, everything I am saying going through one ear and out the other. I'm not sure what reactions I will get, but I have to risk it, this conversation cannot go on indefinitely. "Because she's my daughter and...and as her mother, I should do that."
Sark is watching Jack harder than he should be, picking up on something I can't see, I look to him to see what it is, but he refuses to tell me. I don't know why, he has always told me everything. Still, this isn't the time. I wish I could cross the room and just drum every word into him.
"Jack!" He looks, up, the hatred still there, hurt around the edges and I see Sark's eyes perk up with a new found knowledge. "If you don't trust me, I will do it by myself. If you decide that you do, I will go, with you and with Sark and we will rescue our daughter. I'm going to bed now, but when I get up, you will either go with us or you will sit here and contemplate what we are doing to save our daughter."
He still hasn't responded, just looking around the room, refusing to make eye contact. Sark is watching me now, taking in what I shouldn't show anyone, his brows are raised in question again, but I ignore him, trying one more time. "Jack, please, I could kill you now, so why haven't I." Still nothing. "Jack, when we get back to LA," Sark stares at me, wondering, no doubt, why I am going to go back to LA. "When we get back, with Sydney, I'll go back into the cell."
Sark shakes his head and pushes off the wall, his face still showing nothing of his own thoughts and only what he is seeing in us. I nod, "Good night Jack," I walk away, heading after Sark and out the door, closing it quietly behind me.
Sark just looks at me incredulously, his questions flowing openly through his eyes, but showing no sign that he plans on leaving me. "What if he leaves?" he asks of Jack.
I shrug, "He won't. Sydney means too much to him," I can see him thinking that he knows now how much Sydney means to me. "I'm just not sure whether he will be bale to trust me by tomorrow."
He nods, leaving all his other unanswered questions and unlocking his door, letting me in before him. Once inside, we're safe and I smile at him. "I've missed you," I tell him quietly.
He smiles his normal mischievous and arrogant grin and opens his arms. I walk slowly into them, hugging him tight before letting go. He truly in like a son I never had. He bounces down on the bed and pats the spot beside him, his entire mood and personality changing now that he's alone with someone he trusts.
"So," he begins, "What's the deal with him?" I smile somewhat sadly. Shaking my head I look down. Sark is too quick for his own good, he's only just out of high school, not old enough to know the world, but he has his own high intelligence but not the experience of an older agent. But he has seen something, possibly something even I don't see and he wants to know what I understand.
"He's my husband," I start.
"Ex," he corrects.
"No," I grin at the irony of explaining this to him. "It's still legitimate. Jack told me a couple of weeks ago. He's a difficult man, complex, hasn't changed much."
Sark shakes his head, laughing a little, his voice flowing out slow and British. "I know everything there is to know about him. I want to know what the deal is between you. At this very moment."
He's always too playful for his own good, not caring what he puts his foot in and pulling it out slowly enough to kill anyone who saw him do it. "I just beat the crap out of the man, he hates me, but tomorrow, he'll force himself to trust me. From there, I go back to my cell and start again."
I smile at him. "He could have beaten you." I raise an eyebrow; Sark knows that if anyone else had said that to me they'd be dead by now. "It was the rage, the anger, it blurred him a bit. Put you in a boxing ring, it'd be a good fight."
I nod, "I know." I look out the window; it's still light, only just nearing seven. Still, it will be an early start tomorrow. I look at my right hand man and flicker my eyes, telling him to go to bed. He gets off the bed and I smile.
"I'll sleep on the ground," he wanders into the bathroom and I call after him, my voice thick with my accent and an edge of humour.
"Of course you will, I'm in charge." I flick the covers back and lie down. The air is hot and heavy. Kicking my shoes off, I stare at the ceiling until he returns, shutting the curtains and darkening the room. He whispers a good night across the room and lies down on his back on the carpeted floor, stripping his shirt off in the motion. I smile and curl up, defensively, feeling for the gun that always sleeps under my pillow. I find it there and silently thank Sark for thinking of it.
Closing my eyes I think of trivial things until sleep takes me over.
Any good? Review!! Please!!
Rating: At the moment we shall stick with a PG, but it might get up to a PG- 13, who knows
Summary: Vaughn and Sydney have been captured by Cuvee and Jack and Irina must race to save them
Notes: Yes, another one, I'm a bit stuck with the other two, so I figured do something else. This started with a song, I won't name it, but then I figured I should make it into a proper fic, so now I want reviews if you want more.
Author: If you hadn't guessed, it's me, Aeria, Aeryn, Doona, depending where you know me from. Um, if you haven't read my other two, go read them: Wish List and True Lies. I live off reviews and promise more soon if I get them. I realise this is simular to True Lies, but it won't be really, cause it is different. Oh and no prizes for guessing which song first got me started cause it is obvious.
Chapter Three
Sark is looking mighty pleased, he always had a streak of jealousy when it came to Jack. I'd forced him to learn about him, about his triumphs and used his one downfall - me - to teach him where not to go in a life of crime. Every time he failed a mission or did something I thought not to be up to standard, I would tell him that Jack wouldn't have done that. Sark had watched videos of him and read CIA report detailing his work. And, now, they finally meet properly.
I want to laugh, but I think that a lapse in my concentration would result in Jack trying to kick my ase. He's watching me carefully, one eye on me and one on Sark who has positioned himself just off to Jack's right. I, myself, am blocking the door. He swallows and I want to speak, to tell him, but again, we're locked in stale mate. One thought entering my mind that isn't in regards to keeping Jack at bay and he will attack. But then, if I don't try, we'll still be standing here in an hour's time.
I stare at him, letting my eyes grow wide and forgetting Sark is even here. I take a deep breath and begin to speak. "It's not what you think." Completely serious, and no longer wanting to tease, to trick. Just to tell. I would have continued straight away but he was quicker than what I had expected. His foot connecting with the back of my shin and almost breaking the bone.
I hiss in pain, Sark stepping forward to help me but a shake of my head keeps him away. One on one is fair, if he wins, then Sark can have him. If I win, then, I win. He's watching me, knees bent, back arched, fists up with the thumbs on the outside, perfect posture. I'm sprawled on the ground, one leg off to the sign, the calf muscle whining at me in pain.
I spring up, my hands on the floor and my back arched. I let him see me and try again, "Jack, don't," but the minute my mouth opened he takes another shot, his right foot going around and into my left shoulder. Sark, luckily holds my ground, as one of my arms buckles. I have no choice but to give up talking, I have to make this quick and the pain temporary, Sydney's rescue still in my mind.
Leaping up and backwards, I appear to be pinned with my back to the door; he takes his chance and takes a punch at my chin. Timing myself perfectly, I dodge, throw a kick at his face and wince as I hear his jaw crack. Not broken, just bent out of shape. I can feel the anger seething off him in a waterfall, the rage uncontrolled and take another kick, quickly. I get both his legs, behind the knees and he falls to the ground.
His rage works against me and for me at the same time, his foot coming around and almost kicking my feet out from under me. I jump them carefully and do one of my more extravagant flips, landing a little further forward and out to the side. Unluckily, by this time, he's on his feat and in a second's glance I see Sark sitting on the bed, watching us carefully. What an arrogant prick. Jack takes his chance, seeing me look away and begins throwing punch after punch at me, holding nothing back. I block the majority getting hit only once in the stomach. I hurl my own fists at him, one after the other, from below, above and the sides, but he blocks each, his laboured breathing, the only sign that anything is affecting him.
Moving quickly I twist around to the back and up the pace, I throw a knee up into his spine, hopeful of doing no permanent harm to his back, but not sure I haven't. He crumples to the floor and I can't help but smile in his defeat. He just looks up at me with hate in his eyes; cold, dark hate and I again wince in pain.
Sark's hand lands gently on my elbow, I turn and grin at him, not ready for him to see my affected by a mere man. "I came as soon as you called." His voice is music to my ears. He is my best man, never questions what I ask of him, unless he believes my motives to be wrong. He never questions my loyalty and, in return, I never question his.
"Good," I tell him, letting my thick accent back into my words, knowing that he expects me only to use American English around Americans. "Sydney's been captured." Jack groans and I turn my attention back to him. Bending over him, I touch his back tenderly, feeling the skin bruised and bloated and search for a break, hoping that there isn't one. To him: "Can you move your legs?"
"You're a lying bitch. You've betrayed your only daughter." I shake my head, trying to ignore his words, but failing as I feel a wrench in my stomach. Despite his words, I can see him moving his legs a little and look to Sark.
"Get him up on the bed." Sark smiles at me and I hasten to add, "Gently."
Sark's brows raise in question and I nod, telling him that I will explain soon. He lifts Jack, my husband too sore to reject his help: I take this as a bad sign and cross to the other wall so that I can keep my distance.
Once he's sitting up, a hand holding all of his weight, Sark returns to my side and leans back against the wall, waiting. I bite my lip, trusting both men completely, but not sure where to start. Jack glares at me from beneath a battered forehead, a gash, bleeding slightly situated just above his eye.
Swallowing, I begin, "Jack. Jack, I haven't betrayed you or Sydney." He isn't listening, I try to inject more into my words, accent and emotion mingling in my throat while Sark watches the invisible wires between us. "Jack, Sark has been at SD-6 because I told him to go and work there."
Jack laughs, his voice a rasp and sarcastic. "No shit!"
I almost flinch back visibly, but stop myself, just in time. "I placed him there for two reasons." He still isn't listening. "Firstly, because I want to take them down, I like Sd-6 just as much as you. And secondly, because I want someone there who can keep an eye on Sydney." He just looks down, shaking his head, everything I am saying going through one ear and out the other. I'm not sure what reactions I will get, but I have to risk it, this conversation cannot go on indefinitely. "Because she's my daughter and...and as her mother, I should do that."
Sark is watching Jack harder than he should be, picking up on something I can't see, I look to him to see what it is, but he refuses to tell me. I don't know why, he has always told me everything. Still, this isn't the time. I wish I could cross the room and just drum every word into him.
"Jack!" He looks, up, the hatred still there, hurt around the edges and I see Sark's eyes perk up with a new found knowledge. "If you don't trust me, I will do it by myself. If you decide that you do, I will go, with you and with Sark and we will rescue our daughter. I'm going to bed now, but when I get up, you will either go with us or you will sit here and contemplate what we are doing to save our daughter."
He still hasn't responded, just looking around the room, refusing to make eye contact. Sark is watching me now, taking in what I shouldn't show anyone, his brows are raised in question again, but I ignore him, trying one more time. "Jack, please, I could kill you now, so why haven't I." Still nothing. "Jack, when we get back to LA," Sark stares at me, wondering, no doubt, why I am going to go back to LA. "When we get back, with Sydney, I'll go back into the cell."
Sark shakes his head and pushes off the wall, his face still showing nothing of his own thoughts and only what he is seeing in us. I nod, "Good night Jack," I walk away, heading after Sark and out the door, closing it quietly behind me.
Sark just looks at me incredulously, his questions flowing openly through his eyes, but showing no sign that he plans on leaving me. "What if he leaves?" he asks of Jack.
I shrug, "He won't. Sydney means too much to him," I can see him thinking that he knows now how much Sydney means to me. "I'm just not sure whether he will be bale to trust me by tomorrow."
He nods, leaving all his other unanswered questions and unlocking his door, letting me in before him. Once inside, we're safe and I smile at him. "I've missed you," I tell him quietly.
He smiles his normal mischievous and arrogant grin and opens his arms. I walk slowly into them, hugging him tight before letting go. He truly in like a son I never had. He bounces down on the bed and pats the spot beside him, his entire mood and personality changing now that he's alone with someone he trusts.
"So," he begins, "What's the deal with him?" I smile somewhat sadly. Shaking my head I look down. Sark is too quick for his own good, he's only just out of high school, not old enough to know the world, but he has his own high intelligence but not the experience of an older agent. But he has seen something, possibly something even I don't see and he wants to know what I understand.
"He's my husband," I start.
"Ex," he corrects.
"No," I grin at the irony of explaining this to him. "It's still legitimate. Jack told me a couple of weeks ago. He's a difficult man, complex, hasn't changed much."
Sark shakes his head, laughing a little, his voice flowing out slow and British. "I know everything there is to know about him. I want to know what the deal is between you. At this very moment."
He's always too playful for his own good, not caring what he puts his foot in and pulling it out slowly enough to kill anyone who saw him do it. "I just beat the crap out of the man, he hates me, but tomorrow, he'll force himself to trust me. From there, I go back to my cell and start again."
I smile at him. "He could have beaten you." I raise an eyebrow; Sark knows that if anyone else had said that to me they'd be dead by now. "It was the rage, the anger, it blurred him a bit. Put you in a boxing ring, it'd be a good fight."
I nod, "I know." I look out the window; it's still light, only just nearing seven. Still, it will be an early start tomorrow. I look at my right hand man and flicker my eyes, telling him to go to bed. He gets off the bed and I smile.
"I'll sleep on the ground," he wanders into the bathroom and I call after him, my voice thick with my accent and an edge of humour.
"Of course you will, I'm in charge." I flick the covers back and lie down. The air is hot and heavy. Kicking my shoes off, I stare at the ceiling until he returns, shutting the curtains and darkening the room. He whispers a good night across the room and lies down on his back on the carpeted floor, stripping his shirt off in the motion. I smile and curl up, defensively, feeling for the gun that always sleeps under my pillow. I find it there and silently thank Sark for thinking of it.
Closing my eyes I think of trivial things until sleep takes me over.
Any good? Review!! Please!!