Resolve
By Gabs
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue. Thank you.
A/N: This was for the SD-1 August challenge. The elements were a season 1 episode vignette, use of the episode title in the fic, and an injury.
It was the confession I'd never, in my wildest dreams, expected to hear. Of all the things that could have been revealed, could have shattered my world at that meeting, the one thing my father did say had never even crossed my mind.
"Sydney, I was not that agent. Your mother was."
I don't know how to deal with this. Is there a handbook, some sort of protocol, to assist in living with the knowledge that your mother was a liar, a traitor, a murderer… and that she may never have truly loved you?
As I look back, it's impossible for me to reconcile those two very different people. My mother, Laura Bristow… so devoted to her husband, a loving mother, the image of perfection. Irina Derevko… a KGB agent, a vicious monster who likely never cared about her 'family' to begin with. We were just the means to an end, a way to complete her mission, whatever that may have been.
I don't know what I truly feel at the moment. There are so many emotions tearing me up inside, and it's virtually impossible to single them all out. I know I feel betrayed and used… lost, hurt, confused. But above all else, the dominant emotion is that of desperation. I am absolutely desperate to know why… how could she do this to us? Did we ever mean anything to her? Could she truly spend so many years with my father, with me, and not feel a thing? And even more than that, I am desperate to find her, to look into her eyes, to ask her the answers to all of these questions, and more.
As these thoughts continue to filter through my mind, I restlessly pace across the pier, trying to return to some semblance of my normal self before I even think about going home. There's no way Will and Francie will believe that I'm this worked up over something at the bank, and I can't create another lie right now.
I force myself to stop moving and simply lean against a wooden railing, staring up at the dark sky above me. I wonder where she is right now, or if she's even still alive. How would she react if she were to see me tomorrow? Would she be happy, or would she say she'd prefer that I had never been born?
The idea of my mother wishing I weren't her daughter is enough to bring the tears out in full force, and as my vision blurs, I trip over a loose board and crash to the ground. Pain flares through my wrist, but I ignore it, simply rolling over onto my back and allowing the tears to continue falling.
Eventually, I make my way to my feet, carefully cradling my wrist. The time I spent flat on my back, watching the night sky, has worked wonders on my fragile emotions, and as I make my way to my car, I feel nothing but determination.
I will find her. Whether she is alive or dead, I will do whatever it takes to locate her and bring some closure to myself… and my father. I will find out why she did what she did, and if she ever truly cared. I will find out the truth, no matter the cost.
She owes us that much.