Title: If Only Once More
Arthur: Secret Agent Girl (SAG)
Rating: Hard PG-13 (mainly because I don't feel it's R
but a touch more than PG-13)
'Ship: S/V
Spoilers: Everything is up to Countdown is fair game.
A/N: Yeah, life… it gets in the way. Plus finals are
coming up (shut up Olivia… I am aware you
are done so just shut it) So don't expect an
update from ANYTHING until after the 17th because then I am done done done!! Hope you all enjoy!!
(PS. the end of the flashback is for all
the girls over at sd-1 who (like myself) have a totally unhealthy attachment to
that one little thing she mentions… o hell its hot!)
Ch. 8
Her body shook as she looked into the cold blue eyes she never wanted to see again. The cold of the room was catching up to her and she could feel the temperature dropping as a cool wind filtered through the open door. The only warmth she felt were the pair of hands laying softly on her charred skin, one on her arm, the other on the back of her neck. She felt the bile rise in her throat as she saw the gun in Sark's hands and it took all of her will power not to scream.
"Sark." Vaughn spat viciously as he forced himself to stay calm, if for nothing more than Sydney's sake; he doubted whether she was up for a full scaled fight.
"Mr. Vaughn. I was wondering whether or not I'd be seeing you after our… lovely …conversation." Sark smirked as he took a few steps towards them.
"It's over Sark." Sydney croaked her voice raspy and harsh over her raw, dry throat. "Face it. It's over."
"I see where you'd all think that. But see, I'm standing here," he glanced down to his feet. "Holding this," he gestured to his gun. "While the two of you are there, alone, unarmed." His smile only grew wider.
As Sark spoke, Sydney suddenly felt movement at her neck. Masking her surprise, she blocked out Sark's voice as she focused solely on Vaughn's index finger as it tapped along her hairline. After her blunder in Cuba with her father over a year before, Sydney had gone to extraordinary lengths to secure her knowledge of Morse Code and found it almost too easy to figure out Vaughn's message.
"Comm. Link. In. Ear. Jack. Hearing. All."
She inwardly smiled knowing her father would hear their predicament and come to their aid.
"Gun. At. Ankle."
She could have burst out laughing if the situation wasn't so dire. Her memory flashed back to her first encounter with his obsessive compulsive nature to have his ankle holster on at all times. Literately.
She shifted underneath him as he ran his hands up her skin, her body reacting to every feather light touch of his fingers, every gentle caress. She gripped his back as she lifted her foot, running it up his leg, drawing the pant leg up with it. She stopped suddenly as her foot hit something hard and leather.
What the…
She pulled back from him and questioned him breathlessly. "What the hell is that?!"
"What?" He looked at her for a moment, taking the time to catch his breath, trying to figure out what she could possibly mean.
"On your leg. What the hell is it?"
Vaughn began to chuckle softly. "Do you remember the fight in Nice?"
"No." She deadpanned. "Yes of course I do. What the hell does that have to do with whatever is on your leg?"
Vaughn smiled and pushed away from her, forcing himself into a sitting position. He reached down and made quick work of the buckle on his leg and held it out for her to see. "Gun Holster." He smiled as she began to laugh softly.
"You felt it was necessary to wear a gun to my house for dinner?"
"No. I always wear it. No matter what. I meant to take it off after dinner but we never made it that far, now did we?" He smirked as he crawled back up to her.
"No, no we did not." She smiled as he lowered himself back down to her and kissed her softly. "But next time," she breathed as she pulled away. "Wear the shoulder holster, at least I can use that."
She felt Vaughn shift by her side and was instantly brought back to the situation at hand. She could feel him tensing as Sark took a few more steps towards them.
"You know, I have been really looking forward to the day that Sloane would tell me that it was Ok to finish this little, thing, with you. I mean taking out the last in the Bristow line, it's an honor. But to also be able to take out the last of the Vaughn's. I've always wanted to know the thrill Irina felt when she killed the first. I guess today's just my lucky day." Sark sneered.
The anger boiled up inside of Vaughn and he snapped. Lunging forward, he flew into Sark, sending them both to the ground, Sark's gun misfiring into the air.
Sydney screamed as she watched the two scuffle on the ground, neither one having full control at all times. They both struggled with each other and when Vaughn reached for his gun, Sark took advantage. Landing a right hook directly on Vaughn's jaw, he sent Vaughn sprawling fully on to the ground again and took the time to shove himself into a standing position and train his gun on Vaughn.
Sensing Sark's next move Sydney quickly acted. Defying her screaming muscles she lunged toward Sark, but her weakness had been too much and Sark easily threw her off, sending her to the ground harshly.
He turned towards her and aimed his gun for her forehead. Her head pounded from her fall to the ground, when it painfully smacked the pavement. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Sark took one step forward and as a shot rang out, her whole world went black.