wisps of memory - aka 'writing found', and a snippet
“That was Nate,” he said finally.
Okay. Nathaniel Collins was the closest thing to a father Sark had, since the death of his own. He and Mary Talbot, Sark’s mother, were quite close, though neither had ever confirmed the existence of an intimate relationship. He’d also served in the British Secret Service with Sark’s father, years ago. And he wouldn’t be calling in the middle of the night if it wasn’t damn important.
Sydney slid into the chair next to Sark, reaching for his hands. His fingers were icy cold to the touch. As soon as her skin brushed his, he turned his palms over and gripped her hands so hard, she winced. Oh, God. It had to be bad. His mother, maybe. Sydney leaned in, laid her head on his shoulder. She felt a tremor go through his body, felt his lips brush her forehead.
“I don’t know what I’d do,” he whispered, “without you here. Go crazy, probably.”
When he didn’t say anything else, she finally broke her silence.
“Is it Mary?” she asked gently. His hands gave a convulsive jerk, and she tightened her grip on them. “Sark, talk to me.”
Okay. Nathaniel Collins was the closest thing to a father Sark had, since the death of his own. He and Mary Talbot, Sark’s mother, were quite close, though neither had ever confirmed the existence of an intimate relationship. He’d also served in the British Secret Service with Sark’s father, years ago. And he wouldn’t be calling in the middle of the night if it wasn’t damn important.
Sydney slid into the chair next to Sark, reaching for his hands. His fingers were icy cold to the touch. As soon as her skin brushed his, he turned his palms over and gripped her hands so hard, she winced. Oh, God. It had to be bad. His mother, maybe. Sydney leaned in, laid her head on his shoulder. She felt a tremor go through his body, felt his lips brush her forehead.
“I don’t know what I’d do,” he whispered, “without you here. Go crazy, probably.”
When he didn’t say anything else, she finally broke her silence.
“Is it Mary?” she asked gently. His hands gave a convulsive jerk, and she tightened her grip on them. “Sark, talk to me.”