03//The Accident
---
You drain me dry and make me wonder why i'm even here
This double vision I was seeing is finally clear
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone
Not fit to funkin' tread the ground i am walking on
"Harder to Breath" - Maroon 5
---
She watched as Sark stuttered a goodbye to his young female companion before darting into the large crowd of people. Sydney looked in the direction he was heading and finally saw the Shahn painting. It was securely set to the wall on her left and the hallway next to it.
Sydney shoved her empty wine glass into whoever was closest to her, she didn't care to look. She shifted and squeezed her way through the swarms of people. Some commenting on how rude she was, others ignored her and continued on with their conversation. She didn't think to keep track of where Sark was. She had to keep her mind on track and not let it wander. Though she had to admit Sark looked very good with his tousled 'bed-head' look and dark blue suit.
She shook her head in response, No! Now is not the time.
When she reached the beginning of the hallway she turned to see where her opponent was. She had to hold back a laugh at the site of it. Through a parted crowd she saw Sark on the ground, picking up odds and ends as a woman, looking in her mid 70s, screamed at him. It was apparent Sark had knocked into the women on his way to the hallway and knocked her purse out of her hands. He glanced up at her briefly; tampon grasped in his hand, and sneered at Sydney. She smiled back and darted down the hallway. This was way too easy.
As she reached the staircase several feet away from the party, a guard jumped out from behind the shadows and tackled Sydney against the wall. He attempted to pin her arms down while screaming for back up but she was able to slip one of her wrists from his grip. She elbowed him in the gut before he could yell again. He stumbled back and it gave Sydney enough room to slip the gun out from under her dress. In one swift motion, the butt of the gun made contact with the guard's head.
Sydney didn't have time to watch him slump to the floor but darted up the staircase. Soon she reached the library door and slipped inside just as she heard a group of footsteps approach her. She turned her back to the door and took in the full view of the library
Shelves filled to the brim with books stood high against the walls. Lights hung elegantly from the ceiling, giving the room a warming glow. Sydney's eyes fell on a large, mahogany desk on the opposite side of the room and approached it. Slipping into the sleek business chair: she saw the drawer she was told contained the reason why she was in England. Unhooking one of her earrings, she clasped it onto the lock. She looked around as she waited for the earring to unlock the lock. Constantly glancing over at the door, waiting for someone to bust through it.
After what seemed like an hour, Sydney heard a faint clicking of the lock. She seized the earring and opened the drawer. She pulled what looked like ancient sheets of paper out, each one of them a different shade of yellow. She placed them side-by-side on top of the desk. Removing her ring, she positioned it at her eye level and squeezed its sides: taking pictures of the documents. Marshall was a sneaky little devil in Sydney's opinion, strange but sneaky.
After clicking the last picture, she was replacing the documents when she heard a faint clicking of a loaded gun.
"Hello," A smooth, British accented voice said, "Raise your hands." Sydney recognized the owner of this voice as Sark, and she obeyed his command. Raising her hands, she continued to grasp the ring.
"I was wondering when you were going to get here," she replied in an even, relaxed tone. "Thanks for the distraction."
"Thanks for doing the dirty work." He retorted, taking a step forward. Sydney didn't flinch and this made Sark slightly agitated. From one glance, you could tell there was not an ounce of fear in her.
That's what made her so sexy to him.
"Now give me the ring," he coaxed her, lifting his hand up; Sydney didn't move.
"Mr. Sark, I thought you knew me better then that. You think you can get it from me that easily." Sydney replied, grasping the ring tightly in her hand.
Before Sark could reply, there was a loud bang and the room shook violently for a few moments. A few books fell from the shelves and the lights swayed but the two of them remained standing.
"What the fuck was that?" Sark asked in a bewildered voice, lowering his gun only slightly. Screaming came apparent from the party below them and Sydney could see people retreating from the mansion.
"It wasn't me." Sydney said breathlessly: Giving a confused look to the ground where the sound originated. Without warning came another crash, this one bigger then the last. This sent Sydney hurtling back and crashed into the bookshelf. A dozen books fell on top of her as Sydney slumped into unconsciousness. More screaming accompanied this explosion but it was all mute to Sark. Without thinking or hesitating, Sark dropped his gun and hurried towards Sydney. Throwing books in different directions, he finally recovered Sydney. Blood dripped softly down her forehead and a bruise was becoming present on her cheek. Without thinking, he reached towards her hand, retrieved the ring, and dropped it into his pocket.
He stood as another explosion sounded; it sent more books tumbling but missing her. Sydney remained on the ground, unconscious and vulnerable. He couldn't leave her like this.
"Damn me and my conscious." he muttered as he lifted her lifeless body and carried her out of the library and down the steps. Dust filled the air and chunks of the ceiling laid in broken pieces on the ground. He didn't go through the front entrance but instead found a back door. Once outside he spotted his cat hiding underneath a shady tree. Signaling the driver with his free arm, he drove towards Sark and let him in. Not speaking, he drove to the airport. Sydney sat slumped in the seat next to Sark, remaining unconscious the entire journey.
---
Sydney moaned as she returned back to reality. Feeling her head, she opened her eyes to a dimly lightened area. Ahead of her she saw a blurry figure, someone she didn't recognize. A painful pounding became louder and louder as she woke.
"Where am I?" she asked in a weak, raspy voice. Sitting up slowly, she looked out the window. She was realized she was in an airplane.
"You're on your way to Ireland with me," said the man across from her. Her vision slowly became clear but the man remained unrecognizable.
"Who are you?" Sydney asked, looking around her. She sat in a very sleek plane with a large couch, table, and a TV that sat in the wall.
Sark was taken back by this question. Certainly her eyesight must still be a little blurry; surely she would recognize him in a moment's notice.
"I'm.. er . Sark," he said in an uncertain voice. A confused look occupied Sydney's face, was this some type of game she was playing Sark?
"Sark?" she asked, "Well, Sark, who am I?"
'Oh, shit.' Was Sark's first reaction.
---
You drain me dry and make me wonder why i'm even here
This double vision I was seeing is finally clear
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone
Not fit to funkin' tread the ground i am walking on
"Harder to Breath" - Maroon 5
---
She watched as Sark stuttered a goodbye to his young female companion before darting into the large crowd of people. Sydney looked in the direction he was heading and finally saw the Shahn painting. It was securely set to the wall on her left and the hallway next to it.
Sydney shoved her empty wine glass into whoever was closest to her, she didn't care to look. She shifted and squeezed her way through the swarms of people. Some commenting on how rude she was, others ignored her and continued on with their conversation. She didn't think to keep track of where Sark was. She had to keep her mind on track and not let it wander. Though she had to admit Sark looked very good with his tousled 'bed-head' look and dark blue suit.
She shook her head in response, No! Now is not the time.
When she reached the beginning of the hallway she turned to see where her opponent was. She had to hold back a laugh at the site of it. Through a parted crowd she saw Sark on the ground, picking up odds and ends as a woman, looking in her mid 70s, screamed at him. It was apparent Sark had knocked into the women on his way to the hallway and knocked her purse out of her hands. He glanced up at her briefly; tampon grasped in his hand, and sneered at Sydney. She smiled back and darted down the hallway. This was way too easy.
As she reached the staircase several feet away from the party, a guard jumped out from behind the shadows and tackled Sydney against the wall. He attempted to pin her arms down while screaming for back up but she was able to slip one of her wrists from his grip. She elbowed him in the gut before he could yell again. He stumbled back and it gave Sydney enough room to slip the gun out from under her dress. In one swift motion, the butt of the gun made contact with the guard's head.
Sydney didn't have time to watch him slump to the floor but darted up the staircase. Soon she reached the library door and slipped inside just as she heard a group of footsteps approach her. She turned her back to the door and took in the full view of the library
Shelves filled to the brim with books stood high against the walls. Lights hung elegantly from the ceiling, giving the room a warming glow. Sydney's eyes fell on a large, mahogany desk on the opposite side of the room and approached it. Slipping into the sleek business chair: she saw the drawer she was told contained the reason why she was in England. Unhooking one of her earrings, she clasped it onto the lock. She looked around as she waited for the earring to unlock the lock. Constantly glancing over at the door, waiting for someone to bust through it.
After what seemed like an hour, Sydney heard a faint clicking of the lock. She seized the earring and opened the drawer. She pulled what looked like ancient sheets of paper out, each one of them a different shade of yellow. She placed them side-by-side on top of the desk. Removing her ring, she positioned it at her eye level and squeezed its sides: taking pictures of the documents. Marshall was a sneaky little devil in Sydney's opinion, strange but sneaky.
After clicking the last picture, she was replacing the documents when she heard a faint clicking of a loaded gun.
"Hello," A smooth, British accented voice said, "Raise your hands." Sydney recognized the owner of this voice as Sark, and she obeyed his command. Raising her hands, she continued to grasp the ring.
"I was wondering when you were going to get here," she replied in an even, relaxed tone. "Thanks for the distraction."
"Thanks for doing the dirty work." He retorted, taking a step forward. Sydney didn't flinch and this made Sark slightly agitated. From one glance, you could tell there was not an ounce of fear in her.
That's what made her so sexy to him.
"Now give me the ring," he coaxed her, lifting his hand up; Sydney didn't move.
"Mr. Sark, I thought you knew me better then that. You think you can get it from me that easily." Sydney replied, grasping the ring tightly in her hand.
Before Sark could reply, there was a loud bang and the room shook violently for a few moments. A few books fell from the shelves and the lights swayed but the two of them remained standing.
"What the fuck was that?" Sark asked in a bewildered voice, lowering his gun only slightly. Screaming came apparent from the party below them and Sydney could see people retreating from the mansion.
"It wasn't me." Sydney said breathlessly: Giving a confused look to the ground where the sound originated. Without warning came another crash, this one bigger then the last. This sent Sydney hurtling back and crashed into the bookshelf. A dozen books fell on top of her as Sydney slumped into unconsciousness. More screaming accompanied this explosion but it was all mute to Sark. Without thinking or hesitating, Sark dropped his gun and hurried towards Sydney. Throwing books in different directions, he finally recovered Sydney. Blood dripped softly down her forehead and a bruise was becoming present on her cheek. Without thinking, he reached towards her hand, retrieved the ring, and dropped it into his pocket.
He stood as another explosion sounded; it sent more books tumbling but missing her. Sydney remained on the ground, unconscious and vulnerable. He couldn't leave her like this.
"Damn me and my conscious." he muttered as he lifted her lifeless body and carried her out of the library and down the steps. Dust filled the air and chunks of the ceiling laid in broken pieces on the ground. He didn't go through the front entrance but instead found a back door. Once outside he spotted his cat hiding underneath a shady tree. Signaling the driver with his free arm, he drove towards Sark and let him in. Not speaking, he drove to the airport. Sydney sat slumped in the seat next to Sark, remaining unconscious the entire journey.
---
Sydney moaned as she returned back to reality. Feeling her head, she opened her eyes to a dimly lightened area. Ahead of her she saw a blurry figure, someone she didn't recognize. A painful pounding became louder and louder as she woke.
"Where am I?" she asked in a weak, raspy voice. Sitting up slowly, she looked out the window. She was realized she was in an airplane.
"You're on your way to Ireland with me," said the man across from her. Her vision slowly became clear but the man remained unrecognizable.
"Who are you?" Sydney asked, looking around her. She sat in a very sleek plane with a large couch, table, and a TV that sat in the wall.
Sark was taken back by this question. Certainly her eyesight must still be a little blurry; surely she would recognize him in a moment's notice.
"I'm.. er . Sark," he said in an uncertain voice. A confused look occupied Sydney's face, was this some type of game she was playing Sark?
"Sark?" she asked, "Well, Sark, who am I?"
'Oh, shit.' Was Sark's first reaction.