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Chapter 9 Judo
She looks up at him, the sound of the waves mimicking the rush of memories flooding her mind. The palm trees and sun setting create a shadow over Sark who has placed both shoes besides him. She moves from the glaring sun and into the shadow where she can see his face.
Cautiously she asks, "Why are you being nice?"
"I'm not." He pauses looking at her, "I'm just being a gentleman."
Her face showing not but scorn, "Regardless, I still don't trust you."
Bluntly he tells her, "You shouldn't."
He loved playing these games with her. He was very skilled in the art of verbal judo and surprised that she was just as skilled.
"He is unbelievable," she thinks. Once again she lets him have the "last" word.
She watches him return his gaze towards the setting sun – the blue water glittering below the pink and violet sky. She turns around and starts walking towards the plane.
He turns to watch her, a bit pleased that he won this round. When he can barely see her, he slowly gets up to follow her. He winces, his body screaming in pain, as he gets up and brushes the sand off him. He cracks his back and is quickly reminded of his wound. He tries to move his hand to his back but even that is too painful. Reluctantly, he takes a deep breath and follows the footprints Sydney left behind.
It doesn't take him long to reach the remnants of the plane. The air reeking of sulfur as small fires still burn. He hears her shuffling metal as she scavengers through the rubble. Then, notices that she has created a pile of things in the corner. In the pile, he notices a bottle of champagne and drops down beside it.
He blows away the sand and dirt and reads, "Louis Roederer Cristal 1974."
"Not a bad year," he thinks as he opens the bottle. Immediately, he takes a drink of the delicious liquid. As he was just putting down the bottle, he sees Sydney holding a suitcase.
He licks his lips and holds the bottle up to her, "Care for some."
He moves the bottle, "It's a bit warm. I'd ask for some ice but your glare makes it cold enough for me."
She realizes that her mouth is dry and remarks, "I would."
She watches him move the bottle towards her, "But I don't know where your mouth has been."
He takes another sip, "The same place where Agent Vaughn has."
She tries to remember if she found a gun. She'd love to shot him in the ass right about now so that he would feel what a pain in the ass he was to her. What really annoyed her is that he spoke the truth. However, this time she wouldn't let him have the last word.
She drops the suitcase and pushes him to the ground. He refrains from wincing and just looks up at her in pure coldness. She stares directly at him and notices his slight twitch as she pushes him harder into the sand.
She watches him wince again, "Listen hear you piece of shit. I'm tired of listening to your bullshit. If you don't shut the fuck up, I'll shot you so you do."
She pushes him to the ground then grabs the suitcase. As she walks away, he sits up and dusts the sand from his jacket.
From behind her, she hears him say "Usually, I have to buy someone a drink before the fun begins. But if you wanted to skip the drink, all you had to do was say so."
He is surprised when he feels her hands on his back. Immediately, he groans as she touches his wound.
"You like it rough," she pushes at his wound harder, "Then, we'll play." She holds his left arm back causing his eyes to water up. Instead of crying out in pain, he smirks at her.
She whispers into his ear, "If you want to use your arm, I suggest you put your foot in your..."
She is taken off guard when he pushes her to the ground and is now above her. He holds her arms over her head and looks at her. She struggles, surprised that he still had the strength to keep her down and pissed off that he does.
"I do like it rough," a huge grin plastered on his face.
The smirk disappears as he says, "But a simple 'thank you' would have sufficed," and lets her go.