After all the years and all that had occurred, this was how it ended. At the end of a gun. He couldn’t say that he was all that surprised. He’d been expecting it for quite some time. The way their lives operated, the courses in life they’d chosen for themselves, all but dictated the ending. The only thing in ever in doubt was who would be at the end of the gun and who would be the one holding it.

As it had turned out, Sydney held the gun and Sark was the one staring into its maw.

Silence reigned in that moment of decision. A silence that was heavy, weighted, and pressed down on them. It seemed to even take a simple breath was a struggle which demanded all their effort.

Finding the ability to speak, to break that silence was no easy task but, somehow, Sark managed to do so nonetheless.

“Spare us the cliche moment of indecision, Sydney,” He murmured cooly, “Just do it.” He smiled, almost cavalierly. “Come on luv, show the world what you’re made of. Now’s your chance...do what comes naturally.”

Sydney stared at him steadily for a long moment, her eyes unreadable, letting it drag out. Sark stared back, unwilling to look away and break the contact, but when she made her decision, he saw no sign of it. He didn’t see it when her hand began to move.

But he most certainly felt it when her lips landed on his.

That he could never miss.

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