Repercussions – Part Two
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He handed it to Nikolai, who regarded the picture of a smiling woman with a small girl, both with dark hair.
"They look happy," Nikolai said it in a curious tone, almost like he had never heard of anything like it. Simon nodded, a small smile gracing his features.
"Yeah," he said, looking away, "they do."
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Nikolai glanced over at Sydney, still asleep. "I like her." He glanced back a Sark, serious, "Don't fuck it up, Jul, because it's the best thing that's ever happened to you, and I don't need to know everything about you to know that." He smiled; stood up, and went back to his seat. Sark didn't notice; staring at Sydney, Nikolai's voice ringing in his ears.
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"Now we take Miss. Bristow here with us, and you as well," Lazarey said, "I do not know how they plan to do the fertilization process, though I have heard you two my have already accomplished it." He looked Sydney up and down, obviously liking what he saw. "I can understand why you like her so much, Julian, she is very beautiful."
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"You killed him," Sark shouted, "You killed my fucking brother!"
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He shot him in the head. Lazarey stopped moving.
"That was for me," he spoke in a whisper, "you fucking bastard." He turned around, walking over to Nikolai. He didn't look back.
Not even once.
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Chapter 1
Two months later…
Simon paused outside of the small white house, his hand resting on the wooden fence lining it. He took in his surroundings, noting the large oak tree with a small swing dangling from a thick branch. The wind was blowing softly, and Simon stepped back as it blew the front door open. A loud clang was heard as it connected with the wall behind it.
"Fuck." He swore, rubbing a hand over his face, the stubble that had grown tickled his hands. He dropped them, sparing a glance back at his car parked in the driveway before opening the gate. He walked in and had taken a few steps before pausing. He bent down, picking up a child's doll off the ground. She had brown hair, with a smiling face. He threw it angrily off into the yard, satisfied when he heard it thump as it landed on the ground.
"What are you doing, Simon?" He whispered the question to himself as he continued up to the porch, pausing only a moment before walking inside. He shut the door behind himself, then stopped and stood in the entranceway of the house. All the rooms he could see were painted in pastel colors. Pictures were hanging on all the walls; most had only a woman and a small girl occupying them. He walked slowly into the room to his left, which turned out to be a bedroom, obviously the woman's.
The bed was made, its light blue comforter lying softly on it, pillows scattered at the top. He walked over to the closet, opening the door; he surveyed the clothes inside; nothing special, some jeans, t-shirts, a few light colored sun-dresses. He lifted an empty leather bag from the bottom of the closet, then shut the door.
The only personalized thing in the room was a small wooden jewelry box sitting on the dresser. He walked over, opening it up. There were two things in it, a pair of silver earrings and a silver necklace. He picked the necklace up; it was a Celtic cross. He set it back into the box softly, then closed the lid. He picked up the box and carefully set it into the leather bag he had gotten from the closet. With one more glance around the room, he walked out, entering the room across the hall.
"Jesus, fucker…" He trailed off. The room was purple; purple walls, purple bed, purple everything. But that wasn't why he was cursing. He was cursing because the room obviously belonged to a little girl. Teddy bears lined the bed. A small white dresser sat off to the side, he walked over, opening the drawers. He grabbed a handful of clothes, stuffing them into the bag.
He was about to turn when something caught his eye. Turning, he regarded the picture frame sitting on a small nightstand next to the bed. He walked over, lifting the picture slowly up to his face. It was the woman with the little girl; they were hugging each other, smiling. They were obviously happy. He dropped the bag, and quickly made his way outside; letting the door slam against the wall with the force he had ripped it open.
Fingers shaking, he dug through his pockets, finally finding what he was looking for. He pulled the cigarette packet out, quickly pulled one out and stuffed the box back into his pocket. He pulled out a lighter; brought the stick to his mouth, and held it there while he lit it. He sighed, taking a long pull, slipping the lighter back into his pocket. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, exhaling the smoke in a long string.
He brought his cigarette hand up to his forehead, his thumb rubbing over his eyebrow. What was he doing here? This was never supposed to happen. She was never supposed to-
"Fuck!" Simon yelled, his foot connecting with the porch in his anger. "Fucking mother fucker!" He took a deep breath, looking down at his boot clad feet. Yelling wasn't going to accomplish anything, though it did feel quite good to do. He dropped the cigarette, crushing it with his boot before walking calmly back inside. He went back into the girl's room. He stuffed the picture frame into the bag and walked out of the room, stopping only to grab a teddy bear off the bed.
He didn't bother going through the rest of the house, simply walked out, closing and locking the door behind him. He walked over to his car, throwing the bag into the back. He was about to climb in, but stopped. His head turned towards the yard. He licked his lips, as if deciding, then finally walked over to where he had thrown the brown-haired doll. He picked it up off the ground, toying with the hair softly. He looked at the small white house, the yard, the large oak tree with the swing still moving back and forth softly.
"Goodbye, Shannon."
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Sydney tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear. She stuck her thumbs through the loops in her jeans, her back leaning against the pickle green wall of the clinic. She inhaled deeply, grimacing when the chlorine smells of the clinic permeated through her nose. She pushed off from the wall as the door she was watching opened, revealing a woman; she was short, brown hair, eyes, and skin, obviously Mexican. She smiled at Sydney, motioning for her to come into the small room. She entered, glancing back as the woman shut the door behind her.
"Please, have a seat," she motioned to the cheap plastic chair in front of her desk. Sydney sat and waited for the woman to sit behind her desk before speaking.
"Dr. Kolas, I think I know what this is about, but I can assure you-"
"Ann," Dr. Kolas raised a hand, "I realize you need this job, but I just don't think this is the right place for you anymore, at least, not in your current condition."
"Dr.-"
"I'm sorry," She gave Sydney a regretful smile, "but I'm going to have to let you go." She rose from her set, and walked around to Sydney, handing her an envelope before opening the door. "I hope to see you again." Sydney nodded; and left the office, walking to the end of the hallway and opening the exit door. The hot Mexican air greeted her as she walked down the pathway.
"Fuck, Sydney," She swore at herself, "what are you going to do now?" She slipped on a pair of black sunglasses, adjusted her white tank top, and started walking down the dusty road.
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Sark lifted his head, letting the water pound onto his face. His hands came up to rest on either side of him against the shower walls. After a few minutes his hands dropped to his sides, his fingers curling into fists. His right hand came up, slamming into the wall in front of him. He cursed at the pain, the tile wall of the shower cracked. Blood ran down his hand, only to be washed away by the water still pounding down on him. He stayed like that for a few more moments before turning the water off.
He stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the rack on the wall. He dried off quickly, leaving the towel on the floor as he walked into the other room. After dressing, he walked out onto a small balcony. His hands rested on the fencing in front of him as he gazed off into the city below him. His phone rang, cutting off his thoughts. He dug through his pockets, flipping the small phone open before bringing it to his ear.
"Yes?" He listened as the person talked, his face impassive. "I'll be right there."
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Sark walked quickly into the small hospital, obviously knowing where he was headed. He came to a stop outside of a door numbered forty-five. He was about to open the door when a hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Mr. Bradley," A man in his late-forties with a white lab coat on smiled at him. Sark nodded back, glancing at the door. "you arrived here fast."
"Yes, well, considering the circumstances…"
"Of course," The doctor nodded, "Well, I'm happy to inform you that your brother has woken up from his coma. I'm sure you'd like to see him, but I just wanted to tell you he has made a full recovery. His wound is completely healed."
"Thank you," Sark said, "And yes, I'd really like to see him…" He glanced at the door.
"Of course," The doctor continued, "if you need anything, just ask a nurse." Sark nodded, turning to watch the doctor walk away. He turned back toward the door. With one last deep breath, he opened it, and walked inside.
TBC...