It's been a looong time, but I've finally updated! Review and enjoy!
A rough breeze blew across the vast Sahara Desert, stirring up clouds of sand in its wake. If one looked hard enough from above they would just be able to make out Sydney Bristow as she struggled in the sand.
It was hard enough trying to get through the desert with the urgency of the possibility that someone was going to come behind you and kill you in any second and the fact that Sydney was dragging an unconscious Sark along with her, didn't make the going any easier.
As she walked, she thought about how lucky she was to have gotten out alive.
Sydney had been helpless, chained to the wall, a man with a gun guarding her and Sark looking worse and worse, strapped to the table.
She had begun to work on loosening her handcuff the second that she had become conscious and even though her hand was just small enough to eventually slip through, with no lubrication, it was going to take a long time.
And so for hours, Sydney was forced to watch Sark and watch the machine he was hooked up to print out a piece of information. She eventually realized that the information was coming from Sark's brainwaves and that because his brain was working hard, less and less oxygen would be going to his brain. The machine was slowly but surely killing him.
When she finally got free Sydney discreetly let her aching hand fall to her side as she looked around the room once more. There was only her, Sark, MacLean and the man that was supposed to be guarding her.
Without even thinking, she jumped up from her sitting position and smacked the man beside her right in the neck, taking him down. She wrestled the gun away from him, kicking him in the face as she pulled away with it.
Sydney turned and found MacLean standing in front of her with a gun pointed right in her face.
"What do ya think yer doin' lassie?" His tone was quiet and deadly. "I jus don't understand 'ow one little cunt could cause so much trouble. In fact, yer far more trouble then yer werth."
Sydney swallowed hard as MacLean took the safety off the gun, his finger dangerously close to the trigger.
All of the sudden a low beeping noise occurred. MacLean's eyes lit up. "It's done." Before he could think he had turned around to face Sark and the machine, giving Sydney an opportunity that was too good to be true.
In a second she had flipped him onto the ground and had the gun pressed right against his temple. He grinned up at her, blood seeping from behind his head where he had hit the floor. "Lassie, you don't ave' tha balls ta kill me."
"I stopped myself from killing you before in California. I won't make that mistake again." Sydney turned away and despite the fact that she hated MacLean, it took her a second. When she finally pulled the trigger, she stepped back so that blood didn't splatter upon herself.
She turned to Sark, pulling out all the wires that attached him to the machine. "Sark, Sark, wake up!" She said, slapping him lightly on the cheek. "Please wake up! Please!"
His blue eyes fluttered open for a moment. "Sydney," he mumbled, before they closed again.
Sydney sighed in frustration. MacLean's lackies could come in at any time; she had to get them both out of there. "Damn you Sark." She said, as she hoisted his body up to a sitting position and pulled him onto her back.
At the last second, she looked over at the machine and grabbed the piece of paper it had printed out, stuffing it into her shirt.
The going had been tough, it was still tough, but she was alive, Sark was alive and so far nobody had come after them.
She slipped and fell into the sand, Sark on top of her. Pushing Sark off, she tried to get up but just couldn't bring her self to do it. She hadn't eaten in God knew how long, her muscles were just zapped of all their energy.
Sydney tried to keep her eyes open but it was just too hard. The last thing she remembered was a shadow looming over her body and a pair of booted feet, and then she passed out.
When Sydney woke up, she found a large man wearing a turban and dressed in a black robe bending over her. "I am glad you have finally woken."
Sydney sat up and found that she was in a dark tent, the only light being a lamp set in the middle of the tent. The man had dark skin, a goatee and a very thick Arabic accent. "Who are you and where am I?"
"Oh I am very rude to have not introduced myself. I am Ahmed Al-Karim and I run a traveling bazaar. My caravan was going through one part of the desert on our way to Cairo and we found you and your friend, both unconscious, lying in the sand. I did not want to leave you so I brought you with me, hoping you would both wake up."
"Thank you Mr. Al-Karim, I will be forever grateful for you saving both myself and my friend's life. Do you know where my friend is?"
Ahmed pointed to the other side of the tent and Sydney could just make out Sark's form lying on a cot.
"I'll leave you alone for a moment," Ahmed said and with that he exited the tent.
Sydney walked over to Sark. She knelt down beside him. Watching him sleep made Sydney come to the startling conclusion that she actually cared about him. She didn't know when it had happened or what he had done to make it happen but she did, and she didn't like herself for it one bit.
Sark opened his eyes slowly. He was surprised to find Sydney leaning over him. She was lost in thought and didn't notice that he was awake. He was glad that she was alright. The last time he had been awake she had been sleeping and he had been worried that she was hurt. Hearing what she had done for him from Ahmed had only made him like her more and he knew that if he wasn't careful, his feelings would probably make him do something stupid.
"It's good to see you conscious," he said finally, shaking Sydney out of her thoughts.
"Ditto for you," she said smiling at him.
"Well that's new; you've never smiled at me before." Sark said, teasingly.
"Sure I have," Sydney said, blushing slightly.
"Not like that," Sark said as he sat up in the cot. "That's one of those genuine smiles that start from the inside out and I haven't seen one in quite some time."
"Maybe if you weren't so pompous all the time people would like you better. Nobody feels good around pretentious people like you."
Sark moved forward, leaning dangerously close to Sydney. He could smell her now; it was a warm scent of rose petals and honeysuckle. "I think you like that I'm pompous. It's part of my charm." His lips were only an inch away from her's now. Damn. It was unavoidable. He was about to do something very, very stupid.
"Oh my God…are you serious? You're so conceited. Sometimes I cannot believe how big your head is and that you're such a…."
Sydney never got to finish her sentence as Sark silenced her with his lips.
The kiss was fervent and rough, filled with the mix of their passionate desire, frustrations, and fear. Both of them wanted to stop. They knew it was wrong and that it could never work out in this or any universe. But still they kissed.
Sark pushed her onto the cot, covering her body with his own and still not breaking the kiss.
When he finally did, they pulled away both breathing hard. They looked into each others eyes, fiery blue to deep searing brown, putting everything and anything they ever wanted to say in words, into their gaze.
Sark pulled Sydney to him and began to slowly unbutton her shirt. As he undid one of the middle buttons, a piece of paper fluttered out of her shirt, landing beside the cot.
They both stared at it, for a second. Sark dropped his hands, the task at hand forgotten entirely. He got up off Sydney and picked up the piece of paper, sitting back down next to her on the cot.
"Is this what I think it is?"
"Yeah…I took it after I shot MacLean. I never got a chance to look at it though."
Sark's hands shook as he unfolded the piece of paper. "If this is really it then we'll have the only knowledge to where the Rambaldi Artifact is." He opened the paper and just stared at it.
"Damn it."