Word #281
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Title: Collapse
Fandom/original: Alias
Characters: Sark, Sydney
Rating: PG
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As the building fell away around her, she realized there was only one person she needed to save, and it wasn't the one she was supposed to.
Clearing her throat, she screamed, hoarse at first, then ever clearer: "Sark!"
She was running from room to room. She passed by the main terminal where the other officers were coughing and ducking behind aluminum cabinets. She rushed around the corner into the stairwell where Vaughn was slumped against the wall, breathing slightly, the bullet wound in his cheek still fresh and smoking. She said a prayer as she passed him and slammed down the stairs toward the main floor and that stupid gate...
She was opening the door at the bottom when she heard it. Two syllables. The most welcome she would ever hear.
"Sydney."
She turned and saw Sark come up from under the steps, nursing a gash in his side, trying to hide it from her, knowing he couldn't, a half smile playing at his lips as he lumbered to her and took her hand.
"Let's go!" She yelled over the din of destruction. She yanked on his arm and he obligingly followed her down the dark corridor that was quickly filling with dust and grime as the building tore away from its foundation. At the end of the hallway she noted a large gorge where the parking garage had once stood. As they approached it, Sark took the lead and they began to gain speed, more and more until they were stretching themselves to the very limit. (She could tell from the way he was gritting his teeth, dimples appearing in spite of everything.) At a high sprint, they reached the gorge and instinctively, both jumped.
They landed on a crag and quickly gathered themselves, locking fingers once more, dodging more debris until they had cleared most of the wreckage and ducked behind a bus shelter that was miraculously still standing.
Sydney radioed in, not revealing any personnel details, thinking, 'That can wait.' A helo was on its way to pick them up. Emergency extraction.
As their breathing slowed, they faced each other. They were still crouched, squatting on tiptoes, ready to run if a chunk of wall or Yakuzi member came their way, but they might have some time now. To stop. To think. Then to not think and to just do what they had been dying to do for so long. Sark smiled - the ubiquitous smirk he could not shake - and she did nothing but put her mouth on his and kiss him as hard and as long as she wanted.
The CIA would just have to get over it. There was no stopping them now.
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