Author's Note: I hope Jack doesn't sound too out of character in this chapter. I kind of wanted to portray him as a man who hides a lot under the surface and doesn't always deal with things in the most constructive manner. Sort of glimpse the real man underneath it all. Let me know what you think!

And thanks for the reviews!! It's great to hear from you!

Cheeky.

Never Broken

By cheeky-chaos

Chapter Thirteen:

Brazil

Leaving the chaos the Covenant goons and the CIA agents had created far behind; I followed my mother along a winding stone tunnel to a ladder much like the one I had climbed down earlier. Except that several ropes hung down from above. "Come on." Irina said.

Without waiting for a reply, she jogged forward and began the climb back up to the surface. I grimaced slightly and followed her. Thankfully, the gloves I wore protected my hands from the rough rope, but the climb was still hard. My arms and shoulders were burning by the time I reached the surface and sweat had made my shirt damp. With a groan, I levered myself out of the hole and found myself in a small clearing amongst the dense tropical vegetation.

Acting on autopilot, I climbed back to my feet when my mother stopped to help and followed her to a jeep she had hidden nearby. Piling in, we were roaring away through the jungle before anyone got a chance to follow us. I sank back against the seat and closed my eyes, trusting my mother enough to get us out of here.

"Sydney, are you alright?" she asked, concerned.

My eyes flickered open again and I caught the worried look she sent me. "I'm fine." I lied.

In truth, I was anything but fine. Rambaldi's formula and the antidote were still warring within my system, making everything just a little surreal. Fear was coiled tight in my gut, not for me, but for Sark. My heart felt as if someone had ripped it from my chest – Sark was in the hands of a madman who would like nothing better than to kill him painfully, just for the effect it would have on me. I squeezed my eyes shit again, blocking out the fear and despair – I had to be strong. Sloane was out there somewhere and I would find him.

"I have a safehouse in Manaus where we can rest." Irina said. "Do you have any idea where Sloane is headed?"

I began to shake my head when a thought struck me. The memory was hazy, but it was there. Yet another missing piece of my missing two years. "Maybe." I answered.

Irina was silent for a moment, so I glanced at her. She was frowning in thought. "I think we should go and see your father." She said finally. "He might know something we don't."

I felt a small frisson of fear at the mention of Dad. We hadn't exactly parted in the best of situations and I wasn't really sure what he thought of the decisions I had made – I mean, I was allied with a wanted terrorist and the NSC was after me. I was no longer the golden girl of the CIA – and it was probably the only thing that had stopped a world-wide manhunt for me.

However, none of the fear or apprehension showed on my face. I raised an eyebrow at Irina. "How are we going to do that?" I asked. "Last time I checked, we were both on the CIA's most wanted list."

Irina shot me a sharp look. "You're on the CIA's most wanted list?" she asked, seemingly before she could stop herself.

I smirked, unconsciously mimicking Sark. "Ever since I allied myself with a wanted terrorist and went rogue from the CIA."

My mother gave me a begrudging smile, almost as if she were impressed by my actions but didn't want to show it. "Well, then." She said. "I suppose we'll just have to go and see him without anyone else knowing."

I sighed at her answer and mischievous look. Wigs again, I thought dryly. Only way we would ever get into the US without the CIA knowing. My only hope was that my father wouldn't shoot either me or my mother on sight.

Los Angeles

Sneaking into my father's house was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Both Irina and I were not obviously armed (although we both had guns hidden somewhere) and we were careful not to appear too dangerous, just in case Dad shot first and asked questions later. But after the marathon that had been our trip into America, Dad's place was easy. I discovered why when I snuck through his kitchen.

Empty and half-eaten take-out cartons littered the benches and table, along with quite an impressive collection of whiskey bottles. Empty whiskey bottles. I shot a worried look at Irina, and was a little surprised to see a look of such concern come over her features. Normally, she appeared so cold, it was hard to believe she had once played the role of loving mother and wife so convincingly. It was moments like these, however, that I wondered just how much of it had been an act and how much had been real.

"Dad?" I called out softly.

A crash sounded from the living room, so I headed that way. "Dad?" I called again, only to be greeted by a horrifying sight for a daughter to see.

Dad lay sprawled on the floor of his living room, the crash having come from the almost empty whiskey bottle he had knocked over in an obvious attempt to reach for his gun, which sat just out of reach on the coffee table. He was unshaven and he still wore the suit he usually wore to work, except it was wrinkled and the tie and jacket had been thrown onto the couch. Dad's normally sharp and emotionless eyes were blood-shot and seemed to contain a hundred emotions – emotions I wasn't sure my father always felt, let alone showed anyone.

Behind me, Irina sighed. "I'll put the coffee on." She said, sounding as if she had seen this sight before.

Dad shifted his blood-shot eyes beyond me to Irina, narrowed them and made another attempt to reach for his gun. I moved it before he could shoot anyone – assuming of course, he could actually aim anymore. "Irina?" he slurred.

Looking at my drunken father, I felt sadness and sympathy well up inside me. I could understand exactly what he was feeling in this moment and I felt guilty for causing some of it. That being said, I wouldn't have changed the decisions I had made for anything. "Oh, Dad." I said sadly. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Dad shifted his attention back to me. "Sydney?" he slurred this time.

"Yes, Dad." I sighed. Seems I wasn't going to get much of an answer from him until he'd sobered up a little. "It's me."

I sighed again, before moving to try and help him to his feet. "Cold water?" Irina asked from the doorway.

"I was thinking it might help a little." I said.

"If not with his drunken state, then perhaps with the smell." Irina agreed.

Together, Irina and I manhandled my father into the bathroom and dumped him unceremoniously into the shower, before turning the cold water on with no remorse. The fact that he hadn't been able to walk, let alone struggle, proved just how drunk he was. I wondered how long he had been doing this to himself, because it certainly looked like this wasn't his first binge.

When Irina turned off the cold shower and began stripping the sodden clothes from my now shivering father, I decided to check on the coffee. There was only so much of my father that I actually wanted to see. Irina wandered back into the kitchen about ten minutes later a little damp and with a scowl on her face. Dad entered a minute after her, dressed in sweats with his hair still damp, but looking much better than he had. Wordlessly, I handed him a mug of very strong coffee and warily watched both my parents. I handed my mother a weaker cup of coffee and picked one up for myself.

I turned back to find Dad watching me rather closely over the rim of his mug. His eyes gleamed with their familiar intelligence and had lost some of the alcoholic haze clouding them. "The NSC would arrest you if they knew you were here." He said, his voice rough.

"Are you going to?" I asked cautiously.

He gave me a look filled with hurt. "Sydney, you're my daughter. I would never do that to you." He said, his tone even despite the storm of emotion in his eyes.

There were so many things I wanted to say to my father; so many things I wanted to ask. I left them unsaid and unasked. Now was not the time – or perhaps now was the perfect time. I was so confused. I had never seen my father so emotional before. So human. I think I finally began to understand him in that moment. God knows that had never happened before.

"Thank you." I told him instead.

I think he would have said more, had Irina not been there. I probably would have too, but neither of us trusted Irina enough. She meant so much to both of us, but we would never forget who she was. What she was. So when her phone rang, it was something of a relief to both of us. She left to answer it and Dad immediately turned to me. "Sydney…" he began, but like me, I don't think he knew where to begin.

I gave him a small smile. "Its okay, Dad." I told him. "I know."

"I really do love you, Sydney. I hope you believe that." He said finally.

"I do." I replied softly, and I did. Checking to make sure Irina was still out of earshot, I reached into my jacket and pulled out Isabella's diary. "It isn't much," I said, giving it to him, "but maybe it'll help explain things a little."

Dad's eyes were back to their usual unreadable best and he nodded once as he took the diary. "I love you too, you know." I said.

Irina re-entered the kitchen in that moment, hanging up her cell. She gave no explanation about the call. "Has Sydney explained why we're here yet?"

"You're after Sloane. And you think I can help you find him." Even less-than-sober, Jack Bristow was a force to be reckoned with.

Irina nodded as I hid my smile behind my coffee mug. "We wouldn't have come to you otherwise." Irina said, but Dad appeared to ignore her.

"Where's Sark?" he asked me instead.

"Sloane has him." I answered.

Dad raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. He turned and disappeared into the living room for a moment, before coming back. When he did, he tossed a folder onto a cleaner part of the bench. "That's everything I have." He said to Irina.

She moved towards the folder as Dad leaned back against the bench next to me. I made no move to read the file, as I sense Dad had something else to say. I was right.

"No one knows where the Covenant Headquarters are." He said softly. "But I think you do."

"My missing two years." I said disgustedly.

Dad nodded. "Do you remember anything?"

"Quite a lot." I replied. "Nothing helpful though. It's mostly about the nine months prior to Julia Thorne being active."

I'd forgotten Dad didn't know I'd remembered – no one did, apart from Sark. Dad looked horrified at the thought I'd gone through nine months of torture and brainwashing (which I had)…and guilty that he couldn't have endured it for me. That instinctive gesture that was so much my father went a long way to helping me forgive the things he had done – and understand why a little better.

I reached out to lay a reassuring hand on his arm – and then hugged him, because he looked like he needed it; and truth be told, so did I. "I survived, Dad." I whispered in his ear. "Thanks to you."

"Sloane could be anywhere!" Irina said loudly, in disgust, breaking up the tender father-daughter moment.

I shrugged at her, not really knowing why she expected it to be different this time. "Of course he could." I said. "Sloane is smart enough to plan that I'd find him. He'd have someplace secret to slink back to, like the slimy bastard he is."

"But you're supposed to be there!" Irina snapped. "How can you be there if you don't know where there is?"

"Good question." Dad said. "And even better one is: why do you care so much, Irina?"

I hid another smile. Dad would never trust Irina Derevko again – and it was just as well. If anyone could understand what my mother was plotting, it would be him. And there was no doubt in my mind that she was plotting something – her rescue in Brazil had been just too perfectly timed.

Irina frowned and looked at him. "Do you really think I have devoted so much of my life to Rambaldi without a reason?" she asked him, irritated. "The woman in his prophecy is Sydney. She is the only one who can stop him."

"And you really just want to stop him?" Dad asked coldly.

"Jack!" Irina snapped. "Of course I do! I've told you that before."

I raised an eyebrow at that. It seemed my parent's relationship had been a lot deeper that I thought during my missing two years. I wasn't sure what I thought of that. The childish part of me wanted them to love each other again; to be the perfect parents I remembered. The grown up part didn't want Irina to cause any more wounds on my father's soul. She would end up destroying him.

"Well forgive me if I didn't entirely believe you, Irina." My Dad replied.

I smiled sadly as I watched my parents glare at each other. There was so much emotion between them; so many undercurrents. There was pain, too, on both sides. And love. I hadn't expected that. As Jack and Laura, they had been the perfect couple. As Jack and Irina, I think they knew each other better than anyone else. If you just saw my parents' relationship on paper, I don't think you'd really understand. I don't even think I did.

"I think Sloane's in Venice." I said softly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen.

"Venice?" Dad asked, turning back to me.

I nodded. "Rambaldi used to live there. He probably planned for his endgame to played there, too."

"The Covenant owns a few buildings in Venice." Irina added, after consulting the file.

"It seems Venice it is, then." Dad said, finishing his coffee with a final swallow.

"You're coming?" Irina asked Dad.

"Of course I'm coming!" Dad growled. "She's my daughter!"

I cleared my throat before my parents could start another argument. "If we're going to do this, we might as well do it right." Before either of them could reply, I'd flipped open my cell and dialled Liam.

"Hello?" Liam answered on the second ring. "Sydney?"

I knew Liam had to be worried by now; Sark and I were supposed to have checked in before now. Careful of my audience, I didn't use his name. "Sloane has Julian." I said. "I need the plane."

"Where are you?" Liam asked, his voice immediately tense. "Where's Sloane taking Julian?"

"I think they're somewhere in Venice." I replied. "Irina helped me back in Brazil. We're in Los Angeles talking to my father."

Liam was silent for a moment as he digested the information. "I can be there in six hours." He said finally.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked him.

"You're not leaving me out of this, Syd." Liam's Irish brogue was thick, his anger obvious. "There's a deserted airstrip on the outskirts of LA. I'll meet you there."

I nodded, even though Liam couldn't see it. "We'll be there." I said and hung up.

My parents looked at me with the same look of wariness and curiosity. "I've got a plane picking us up in six hours." I said. "So, we've got six hours to figure out exactly which of those buildings Sloane is in."

Dad nodded. "I'll get the blueprints." He said with a sigh.

Six hours later, Dad, Irina and I stood on the edge of the deserted airstrip watching Sark's plane taxi to a halt in front of us. My sunglasses hid my eyes and my hair whipped around my face in the wind. I stood impassively against the hood of our rented car, while my parents tensed beside me.

I stepped forward when the door opened, then almost stumbled when Liam's green eyes winked at me from underneath a pilot's cap. Covering it quickly, I hurried into the plane. Instead of the usual pilot, it seemed Liam was flying this one. "There's gear for you in the overhead lockers." Liam said softly before my parents joined us. "If you need me in Venice, Syd, just say the word."

I smiled softly. "I will." I replied, before moving further into the plane and Liam retreated back into the cockpit and closed the door.

My parents chose that moment to enter the place; Dad seemed a little impressed, while Irina just breezed in like she owned the place. I shut the door after them and Dad paused as he passed. "You've moved up in the world." He whispered to me, not without humour.

I smiled back. "Well, there are some perks to being a wanted woman."

My father's smile in return was tinged with sadness and I squeezed his arm in reassurance. "You'd better take a seat." I said. "We'll be taking off soon."

Even as I spoke, I heard the discrete chime that indicated Liam was ready to take off. Dad and I took a seat as Liam expertly flew the plane up and away from LA.

Venice

The flight to Venice was tense and strained. Despite the growing trust and understanding between us, Dad, Irina and I were still rather uncomfortable around each other. I had ended up taking refuge in the cockpit with Liam halfway through the flight. We had discussed what Liam knew of Sloane and the Covenant – with the help of my regaining memories, I had managed to narrow it done to one building. The same building I was currently staring at. Rambaldi's manor.

I was dressed in black combat gear, my makeup and mask of confident agent carefully in place. Dad and Irina crouched beside me, scoping out Sloane's new hideout. So far I could only see one way in – and that was through the front door.

"There's no way in through the back." Dad said, looking through his night-vision binoculars.

"Or through the front, except through the front door." Irina added, gazing through her own binoculars.

Suddenly, I for an incredibly bad feeling in my gut – it was actually physically painful. Sark was in serious trouble! I didn't have time to wait anymore!

While my parents were still arguing about the best way into the building, I quietly moved backwards, before slipping off the roof of the building across the street from Sloane's and down the stairs. I had to move slowly, so as not to alert Dad or Irina, and it was hard to ignore the part of my mind screaming "Run!". I dropped the earpiece I wore, knowing if Sloane saw it, he'd know I hadn't com alone. Then I took a deep breath and walked right up to the front door.

"Tell Sloane that Sydney Bristow is here." I growled to the guards at the front door. "I'm here to take back what's mine."

With a snarl, the goons roughly threw me against the wall and frisked me carefully. They removed my fun, several knives, my scrambler and my mines and detonators, but missed the knife hidden in my boot and the C4 and small detonator in my bra. I wasn't a superspy for nothing. "Come with me." One of the goons growled in a heavy Italian accent.

The goons led me inside, one in front of me and one behind. I kept my face in a cold mask of indifference and prepared to meet the Devil. The goons led me down a richly decorated corridor to an equally-richly decorated room that was eerily familiar to me. For a surreal moment, I was both Isabella Rambaldi and Julia Thorne. I had seen this room as both of them.

"Sydney." Sloane's voice brought me back to the present. "I'm so glad you could join our little party."

Coming back to myself, I glanced around the room and noticed the details that had escaped me before. A large desk ran along one side of the room, and hog-tied to chairs in front of it, was Vaughn and Lauren. I arched an eyebrow in Sloane's direction and smirked, a la Sark. "And it seems like quite a party."

Sloane chuckled. "Please, have a seat." He said.

"Thanks, but I'm not staying." I said. "You have something of mine and I want him back."

Sloane gave me an evil smile. "I wouldn't worry about Mr. Sark." He told me. "Anna is making sure he's quite comfortable."

I felt my eyes turn to ice and all warmth fled from my face. "If he dies," I growled. "I will make it my life's purpose to find just how many ways I can make you scream."

Sloane chuckled again, but part of me was very pleased to see he had paled ever so slightly and there was a hint of fear in those remorseless eyes. "You remind me so much of your mother, Sydney." He smirked.

"Good." I smirked right back. "Then we both know just what I'm capable of."

"You wouldn't, Sydney." Sloane replied. "You're not a monster."

"Oh, but I am." In that second, I morphed back into Julia Thorne and the words came out in a throaty purr; yet the sound was somehow icy cold. "You were the one who taught me how to kill in cold-blood, weren't you, Arvin?"

Sloane definitely paled this time, fear obviously gripping him when he heard the faint British accent in my words. He knew then that I remembered; just like e knew I would not stop until he was dead. "Kill her!" he ordered.

I took out the goons in under thirty seconds – which was just enough time for Sloane to escape. Cursing, I scavenged the bodies for anything of use, which included two automatics and space clips. Then I finally turned to Vaughn and his wife. Both of them were gagged and were watching me with wary eyes.

"Are you going to try and stop me if I untie you?" I asked them.

Vaughn regarded me coolly for a long moment; I stared just as coolly back. Then he shook his head. "Good." I said, before removing his gag. "My aim is to stop Sloane and destroy Tambaldi's endgame. Anything else is yours."

"What about Sark?" Vaughn asked, rubbing feeling back into his wrists as I moved onto untying Lauren.

"He leaves here with me." I answered, implacable. "Or I tie you right back up."

Vaughn nodded again after a moment and I resumed untying Lauren. "You're Adrian Lazarey's killer." She said as soon as her gag was free.

I nodded sadly. "Yeah." I answered. "Sloane's orders."

Seeing Lauren and Vaughn exchange a look, I had to smile at the righteous indignation on their faces. "If you want the details, you'll have to ask Kendall." I said.

"Kendall?" Vaughn echoed.

"He was my handler." I explained, letting the implication sink in. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a madman to stop."

I left Vaughn and Lauren there and headed for the basement. Rambaldi had built a fiant maze under this house and at the centre of it was the chamber Sloane was using to assemble his endgame. I knew that just as well as I knew Sark was in mortal danger.

Shooting the two goons that tried to stope me, I headed down a set of stairs I recognised from Isabella's memories. I was surprised it was so easy – at least, I was until I heard the gunfire. Someone else had joined the party. Using the distraction I had been given, killing the two goons that were headed up. I reached a set of gilt doors and snarled when I found them locked. Fine. It's not like they didn't know I was coming anyway. I dug the C4 and detonator out of my bra and blew the lock with a satisfying bang.

"Wait!"

I spun to find Vaughn and Lauren hurrying down the stairs towards me, both now armed. "You can't do this alone." Vaughn said when they reached me.

"I'm doing this no matter what." I told them. "But I won't say no to the help. Just one question: why?"

"You're not the only one who wants to stop Sloane." Lauren answered.

And so began our uneasy truce. With a nod, I raced through the now open doors and shot the goons waiting for us on the other side. Then, using instinct and memory, I began weaving my way through the maze. I knew just which way to go from my shared memories of Isabella, and I could see that after a while it began to unnerve both Vaughn and Lauren.

I stared at the three tunnels in front of me. "Left." I said, again choosing the way towards the centre with surreal accuracy.

"How do you know that?" Vaughn asked, somewhat exasperated, from behind me.

I slid him a glance as I went left. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me." Vaughn said.

With another look, I told him the whole story of Rambaldi and Isabella, only leaving out any mention of the diary and Bennetti. "See?" I said. "I told you that you wouldn't believe me."

"Actually, the scary part is that I do." Vaughn disagreed.

I turned back to look at him and saw he was telling the truth – he did believe me. I wanted to ask why, but now was not the time. "It's not far now." I said instead.

True to my word, we opened out into the centre chamber about five minutes later. The sight that confronted me stopped me dead in my tracks. A large machine that seemed familiar, yet strange, took up most of the entire room. It was made of metal and attached to it were wires and tubes that hung everywhere. On an altar of sort, Sloane stood, a vast array of crystals in front of him forming some sort of control panel. But the truly horrifying part of this scene was the stone altar on which Sark lay, dressed only in his jeans and attached to the machine.

Tears slipped down my face as I stared horror-struck at Sark, who looked paler than death and the red tubes that connected him to the machine meant to end the world – tubes that were coloured by the blood running through them. Anna stood over him, grinning maliciously.

"Julian!" I screamed.

An evil chuckle sounded as Sloane looked on, his eyes gleaming with fanatic light as he neared the goal he had been dreaming of for so long. "Hello, Isabella." He said, in a voice that was not only his, but Rambaldi's as well.

I looked up at him, suddenly both Sydney and Isabella. As disorientating as it was, Isabella and I were of the same mind – we had to free Sark and destroy Sloane. I raised my gun up at the man who had been so much to both of us; tormentor, captor, father. "Now, Isabella." Sloane-Rambaldi said. "You have a choice: kill me or save the man you love."

Aiming carefully, I shot the crystal I could see glittering just over Sloane-Rambaldi's shoulder; instinctively I knew it would stop the machine, if only for a little while. Sloane-Rambaldi howled in pain and outrage, but I completely ignored him. I barely even noticed Anna fleeing the scene or Vaughn and Lauren chasing after her. I only had eyes for the man I loved. I rushed to Sark's side, ripping the tubes from him and sobbing in absolute despair. Was I too late?

"Julian?" I whispered brokenly, as I cupped his beloved face and vainly tried to stop the blood welling from the various cuts on his arms and chest. "Please answer me, Julian. I need you to be alive. Please be alive."

Sark did not answer my pleas, nor did he move. His eyes remained shut and his skin was far too pale. "Please, love." I said. "Please wake up!"

"How touching." Sloane-Rambaldi growled softly in my ear, a split-second before he yanked me backwards by my hair. "But its time for you to die, you little bitch."

I groaned in pain as he slammed me viciously into the ground. I barely slammed my hands up in time to protect my head from being slammed into the stone floor. In my haste to free Sark, I had left my gun lying beside him on the altar. Not that I was unarmed. I reached for the knife in my boot and came up swinging. I sliced Sloane-Rambaldi across the cheek and kicked him in the chest when he hesitated. He let out a scream of inhuman rage, before charging at me.

He slammed me backwards into the stone floor, driving the wind from my lungs and the knife from my hand. I struggled beneath him, freeing my arms enough to start punching him in the face and chest; anything I could reach. He reared back off me a little, giving me some more room and space enough to gain my breath. I slammed my elbow into his gut and was about to reach up to grab him by the neck and twist him off me, when a gunshot sounded in all the chaos.

Blood blossomed on Sloane-Rambaldi's chest an instant before he was shot again and again. When I heard the click of an empty clip, I finally turned around to see who had killed the monster who had been haunting me for so long. Tears poured down my cheeks as I laughed in shocked delight. Sark was sitting up on the altar, my gun in his hand and still aimed at Sloane-Rambaldi.

"Julian!" I cried, scrambling to push Sloane's body off me and race to his side.

He turned to face me, still pale but looking much better than he had only minutes before. "Syd." He breathed, before he reached out and crushed me to him.

His lips found mine in a breathless and passionate kiss that turned my blood to fire and echoed the desperation I felt. My heart had completely stopped in that devastating second I believed I had lost him…

Breathing hard, I broke away, tears still filling my eyes. I reached up, my fingers tracing over his beloved face, as if reassuring me he was here and he was alive. "Don't ever scare me like that again." I told him.

Sark's eyes were also shining brightly in the flickering light. "I don't ever want to scare myself again like that, either." He replied.

We shared a smile, and for a brief moment, I felt almost as if Isabella and Edward were standing beside us. "Thank you." The whisper echoed in my head and I could tell from the expression of awe in Sark's eyes that he had heard it too.

Gathering my strength and determination about me once more, I helped Sark off the altar and turned to face the hissing and groaning machine that Rambaldi had designed to end the world. Our task was not done until we had destroyed that as well. "We need to blow it." I said, Sark's arm around my shoulders, both in an effort to help him stand and because we did not want to let each other go.

"If we do, this whole place will go up with it." Sark told me.

I looked at him and noticed the similar determination in his beloved blue eyes. "Do we have a choice?" I asked dryly.

Sark gave me a sad smile. "Let's do it."

I nodded and picked up a spare gun from the ground; probably the second one I had dropped earlier. I handed Sark and spare clip and then together, we turned and fired at the crystal control panel. When every crystal was destroyed, I heard the machine give an almighty groan and its rumble changed from one of mechanics working, to one that signalled its immanent destruction.

Sark and I headed back towards the maze as fast as we could, hoping that the twists and turns would protect us from the blast. Then the world erupted into flame and the whole building exploded into rubble.

To Be Continued…

Author's Note 2: Please do not worry!! This story will have a happy ending…but it needed the cliffhanger first! I'll try and get the final chapter up soon, but in the mean time…you could always tell me what you think. Please?

Cheeky.