Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in this story belong to J.J. Abrams. Just borrowing for a little drama and angst.

Spoilers: Up to "Masquerade." Everything else is pure fiction.

Summary: Sydney learns some disturbing things about her mother when she finds her hidden journals.

Author's Notes: Okay, so I've been kicking around this storyline for awhile and it all came together after "Masquerade" when we learned Sydney's mother was still alive.   Since Noah doesn't really figure into the plot, let's pretend Sydney never went to Vienna and he never came back into her life. 

Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

Jack Bristow stood by his car as he waited for the plane carrying his daughter to come to a complete stop. Sydney was returning from Italy, the Rambaldi Prophecy no longer hanging over her head. Devlin had alerted the FBI and the DSR about what had transpired and although both agencies were extremely upset by the tactics they had used in order to extract Sydney, everyone involved agreed that Sydney Bristow could no longer be thought of as the woman Rambaldi had described in his Prophecy. For all intents and purposes, the matter had been temporarily shelved.

The door to the plane opened and Sydney came dashing out a few moments later. Jack allowed himself a brief smile. His daughter had never been one to sit still for very long. She had probably been out of her seat the second the plane touched down.

Sydney gave a sigh of relief as soon as she stepped onto solid ground. Italy was always a nice place to visit, but it was good to be home. Especially now that she no longer had to worry about that damned Prophecy.

She saw her father waiting for her and was mildly surprised to see him. For a split second, she had thought maybe Vaughn would be there to pick her up. Then she realized what an idiotic idea that was, considering that they weren't supposed to be seen with each other. Her father was probably the only logical choice.

"Hi, Dad." They stood there facing each other. Their relationship was still too awkward for a welcome-home hug, so they found themselves relegated to brief smiles of hello and a few words of uncomfortable chit-chat.

"Your flight was uneventful?"

"It was fine." She nodded. "Is everything okay here?"

"I'll fill you in while I drive you home." He took her bag and stowed it in the trunk while she got into the passenger side of his car.

During the drive, Jack related to Sydney about everything that had happened between the CIA and the FBI and DSR. She was no longer under investigation, but she still faced the unenviable task of having to talk to Sloane about the missing Page 47 from the Rambaldi book.

"He's absolutely incensed over the fact that the page is missing, so you're going to have to tread carefully." Jack cautioned her.

"When do I have to see him?"

"Well, I figured you might be tired after your trip, so I told him you were feeling a bit under the weather." Jack replied. "Unfortunately, I could only stall him until the day after tomorrow."

"And what's my story supposed to be?"

"You are to tell him that K-Directorate must have switched the pages when they saw that it was blank. They probably needed more time to decode it, but since they knew we were after the book, they placed a dummy page in there just in case we got our hands on it before they were able to decipher Page 47."

"Do you think he'll buy that?"

"He has no reason not to." Jack gave a shrug. "You would have no motive to steal the page because you're not supposed to have any idea that you needed the invisible ink Cole was after in order to decipher it."

"Besides which, Arvin has always had a soft spot where you are concerned." He added.

"Lucky me." Sydney said wryly, in a tone that reflected she felt anything but blessed.

"Don't scoff, Sydney." Jack admonished her. "Arvin's feelings towards you have served you very well in the past. He was very reluctant to believe you were the mole and it no doubt saved you from being prematurely terminated."

Sydney looked sulky. "I just wish he wasn't so intense. It creeps me out sometimes." She confessed.

A thought struck her. "Is it because of Mom?" She suddenly blurted out.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they knew each other, right?" Sydney pressed her father. "What was their relationship like? Were they close? Does he see her in me?" Her questions all came out in a rush.

"No, Sydney, I don't believe that's the case." Her father shook his head, but did not elaborate. "You're just the closest thing he has to a child since he and Emily were never able to have any children of their own."

"Thank God for small favors." She muttered, shuddering at the thought of a "Little Arvin" running around.

After a few moments of silence, Jack cleared his throat in an unusually loud manner. "Since we are on the subject of your mother, I've been meaning to talk to you about something."

Sydney gave him an expectant look. "What is it?"

"While you were in Italy, I did something I shouldn't have." Jack said tightly. "I broke into Langley's classified archives."

"Dad!" Sydney looked at him with alarm. "What if you had been caught?"

"Don't worry, I wasn't." He replied a shrug. "And it was imperative for both of us that I find out if your hunch was correct."

"So what did you find out?"

"The file I found confirmed that she did not die in the accident, but the CIA doesn't know what happened to her. They don't know if she went back to Russia or if she's still here in this country." Her father informed her.

"Mom's alive?" Sydney sat there, stunned. After a few moments of digesting this earth-shattering information, a strange kind of peace settled over her. "Dad, I have to find her." She said in a quiet, controlled voice.

"No, Sydney, I will not allow that!" Jack's fury was unleashed with a roar. "She is not worth the time or the effort it would take to look for her!" He exploded.

"I need to know where she is." She said insistently.

"Sydney, we don't even know if she's still alive!"

"That doesn't matter to me." Sydney said obstinately. "Either way, I have to know."

"Even if you do find her, what do you expect from her?" Jack's voice rose heatedly. "It won't change what she did to us."

"Dad, please!"

"Sydney, I'm telling you for this for your own good. You had better know just what you're getting into before you go digging around in something that would be best left buried." His tone was resentful. "Do you think you will have some sort of tearful reunion with her and she will beg for your forgiveness? Do you that will make up for all the lies and the deception and the betrayal?"

Sydney had no response to his questions as it was completely beyond her realm of thinking. First, she had to find her mother. Only then could she worry about how it would affect her life.

"Dad, you've made your objections abundantly clear." Sydney's tone was brisk and to the point. "But nothing you can say will change my mind about this. I am going to look for her and I'm not going to stop until I find her."

For the next few minutes, the tension in the car was palpable. Both Bristows were incredibly stubborn individuals, neither willing to give an inch. As the moments passed without a word spoken between them, Jack slowly came to the realization that he had no business as to suggest that Sydney not search for her mother. As her father, he could forbid it, but he knew it would be a gesture in futility. After so many years of absent parenting, he could hardly expect his daughter to give his protests any credence. Time had widened the gap between them and although he knew Sydney respected him and his opinions, he was not the authority figure a father was supposed to be.

"Sydney." Jack uttered her name quietly. "There's something else."

"What?" She was still feeling a bit antagonistic and it was apparent in her voice.

"I don't know if I'm being a pushover or a fool, but since you are so hell-bent in going through with your search, I don't see how this is going to make any difference." Jack's voice was resigned.

"There are some things of hers that I've kept in a storage locker since she's been gone." Jack said in a stilted voice, as if he was just barely able to speak about her mother. "The rental agreement is going to come up for renewal soon and I've been thinking that it's just a waste of money to keep all of those things in storage for someone who's never--" He stopped in mid-sentence. "What I mean is that if you want some of her things, you can go through the boxes and take what you like. The rest will be sent to charity or it will be burned." His tone was clearly matter-of-fact and dismissive.

No, her father wasn't still bitter about her mother's betrayal, Sydney thought to herself with a grimace.

"What kind of things did you keep?"

"Books, clothes, jewelry, a few photo albums."

So that's where they were. Sydney had been just a child when her mother "died," so it had never crossed her young mind to put away all the memories that had been captured on film for safekeeping. But then when she got older and she wanted to look back, she was unable to find any of the family photo albums. Apparently, her father found it too painful to have any reminders of her mother around.

A memory of her mother floated into her brain. "Dad, did you keep any of her clothes?"

"I think there are a few things." Jack said stoically. "I didn't pack her things—I had the nanny do it—but I believe we gave most of it to charity. It was impractical to keep her clothing since it's not the sort of thing that ages well. It was twenty years ago and of course the styles have changed since then."

"Do you think you kept might have kept that black silk shawl with the fringe?"

Jack looked surprised. "You mean the one I brought back for her from Spain?" He inquired.

She nodded. "Mom loved that shawl. She said it made her feel glamorous and mysterious."

Sydney smiled. "I remember I was playing dress-up one day. It was raining. You were on one of your trips and it was just the two of us at home. We were pretending we were gypsies."

"She lent me all of her bangle bracelets and these really funky gold clip-on earrings with tiny little beads. I was wearing a white peasant blouse and one of her skirts that dragged along the floor when I walked." Sydney's eyes took on a faraway look as she reminisced. "Mom tied a scarf around my head and she gave me that shawl to wear around my shoulders. Then she put some blush on my face and let me paint my lips with this really bright shade of red lipstick." Sydney laughed at the memory. "Did you ever see the pictures she took of me that day? I probably looked frightful but I felt beautiful that day."

Jack had a peculiar look in his eyes. "No, I don't think I ever saw those photos." He said stiffly.

Sydney caught her father's rigid posture and the way the knuckles stood out on his hands as he gripped the steering wheel too tightly. She gave him a troubled look. Maybe he didn't want to hear about the happy times she had shared with her mother. Maybe it made her betrayal hurt all the more.

"So do you have a key you can give me for the locker?" She asked quietly, realizing she had better tiptoe around the subject of her mother.

"Yes." He removed an envelope from his pocket. "I've also written down the directions to the storage facility."

"Thank you."

To be continued