Title: Remembrance: Reliance On the Enemy
Author: prlrocks
Rating: PG-13 but future parts of the series may hit R or NC-17
Spoilers: Up to the final
Time line/Genre: Post telling & AU/Angst/Romance
Ship: S/S with overtones of S/V
Disclaimer: It's fanfiction. Do you really think I own them?
Summary: Sydney begins to wonder if she's not the only one who doesn't remember what really happened during the last two years. Upon learning her fate, Syd begins understanding her place in the world and of those around her.
Notes: Many thanks to my betas, Jen, Susan and RED and to Aliasscape, who turned out to be a wonderful muse and helper in planning this fic. I couldn't do this without you guys. This is the first part in a series I hope you all will enjoy. Reviews are appreciated more than I could ever say.
~
Something was wrong, he could tell from the fright in her voice. He ran. He did not know how much time he had left. His tired feet hit the ground again and again, down the series of white narrow halls, his black leather duster slowing every step. There it was! As he reached the closing door, he saw her panicked eyes widen in horror. Frantic to get the door open by any means, he pounded his aching fists into the pane repeatedly. It had to open! But it was too late. For one last moment, they stared into each other's eyes before that one last final breath was obtained and then she was gone. When it was all over, there was no reminder of what had happened besides a pair of bloodied hands.
~
God she wished she was numb. To never have felt, that would have been the greatest thing that could have ever happened to her. She would willfully trade each smile and every damn laugh to make this crushing pain inside her go away. It wasn't like she was ever truly happy. Anything that could be thought as being so was tainted and ugly in remembrance. For so short a life, the list of horrific events that haunted her was so long. Her mother's supposed 'death,' Danny's all too real assassination, learning her guilt in aiding one of the world's most immoral men; all were scars on her presence. There was no fighting their hold on her, in days to come. Pain and devastation, it seemed, was enamored with her.
And here it was again. When Sydney woke, she thought with a laugh, it was as if the last few days had not been enough. Almost seeing one of her best and closest friends executed for treason would have stood out alone as being one of those unspeakable moments.But then there was the added pang of discovering her Francie was long gone; how long, she did not know. She had been murdered and replaced by a double sent to spy on and manipulate both her and Will. At least he was okay. Sydney had been certain Will's life had come to an end, as much as Danny's had. That could be her one consolation for everything that had happened.
So Sydney sat, wrapped in self-pity and a rough wool blanket, waiting for him to return. Vaughn had given the pretense of needing to nourish her, in order to contact the CIA on what to do next.
Two years! How was that possible? Two years had gone by and she recalled nothing of it. Even worse somehow, was realizing Vaughn had married Alice. Everything she had thought they had together was nothing to him. He was being so cold and distant. Shouldn't he have run to her? Grabbed her and told her how much he had missed her? How he was sorry that he had given up hope? But no… he had almost said nothing. Shock she told herself. He did not anticipate this but somewhere deep down she knew this was denial just begging this horror away.That two years, such a brief time really, had been enough for him to get over her, dead or not, was too much to bear.
Alice, she cursed. Never had she loathed a word more, and how dare he question why she was focusing on his private life. He acted as though it was no concern to her. It was very much her concern that he had wedded that bitch, as Sydney now referred to her, barely six months after she had disappeared. How dare he? She may have not given him much, but it was sure as hell worth more than a few months grief from the man. This betrayal stung considerably more than any other had.
"Here, eat this," the unexpected voice commanded.
Sydney startled, but recovered with the roll her eyes, thinking of a lovely reply to that request. A bowl of fried rice, she sulked, as if she was not sick of eating that already. Didn't matter, she wasn't really hungry as she had told him. All she wanted was to sit there and imagine ways to make Vaughn suffer for what he had done to her. Which technique of torture, she pondered, would be the most befitting of his 'crime'? She yearned to see how well he faired under such extreme pain.
He sat huddled over, hands grasped between the knees, staring at her with concern. Did he insist she take a bite? She did, eager to make that expression in his ever green eyes go way. Why did he have to gaze at her like that? His eyes held immense guilt; they were consumed by it and he could barely look at her for the pain it caused. This, of course, made her feel worse, if anything could, for her thoughts. Damn him. It was her turn to pine. She cursed him, far less enthusiastically than she had seconds before.
"I'd like some rest," Sydney grumbled, giving him a reason to leave. At least then, she could be angry without having to feel guilty for it. She sensed he was leaving, but was mistaken.
"Sydney, there are some other things I did not tell you." He paced across the room, hands twitching and distress reflected in his eyes. "I watched you die." Vaughn choked upon the word and held his hand to his trembling mouth to stop the sobs escaping it.
"No, no I am here." She reached out, wanting comfort him but he shunned her and sat back into a creaky old chair.
"I tried," as much as he attempted to contain the sobs he couldn't. "I tried so hard to save you. I pounded on the glass till my hands bleed but you were gone."
Sydney's head spun in bewilderment. What was he talking about? She peered up at him. Vaughn was trying to stop his tears, and absent-mindedly playing with the gold band upon his finger. She wondered if he was regretting the day he moved on. Even though it would cause him heartache, she hoped it did. It would dull her own suffering. She then scolded herself for wishing sorrow on someone she was meant to love. He glanced up at her with those green sincere eyes and his forehead wrinkled. She smiled. In a moment like this, she took comfort in the familiar sight.
"I was so sure. There was no way." He sighed and ran his hand over his cheek to dry it. "You were trapped. The water came rushing behind you.I swear, I saw you take your last breath before the water swept you away from my sight."
Syd's eyes bulged out from what she was hearing. Either this was the worse dream she ever had or Vaughn had gone insane.
"Vaughn," she took a deep breath and thought on how to say this. "It wasn't I who drowned in Taipei, it was you and besides, I saved you later on.. Khasinau's lab, remember?" She gave a desperate nod yes, pleading with him to agree.
He didn't.
"Syd, I don't know what has happened, why you don't remember what occurred. All I can think of is that you must of hit your head, amnesia, something. I am just glad you're alive. For so long I've blamed myself. I still do. If you hadn't warned me none of this would have happened."
It was too much. Sydney jumped off the bed frantically to do something, but she didn't know what. Her ears were flooded and she felt lost. She pulled at her hair and at her sweater in same attempt to do something, to make this feeling go away. She heard her heart beating, so fast, over and over, and it ached. Sydney moaned, grabbing her chest as tears continued to streak her cheeks. Vaughn's face, so strange; it seemed so alarmed yet distorted to her vision. Vaughn appeared to be saying something but still nothing but the rapping of her heart and the whooshing of air reached her ears. This wasn't happening. Syd pleaded for it all to cease. Make it stop, please, she begged. She covered her ears and screamed, falling to the floor. She curled up tight wanting to disappear. Nothing could hurt her like this, she told herself, nothing. He was lying; all lies. She would wake up in her warm bed and Francie would be there and Will. A dream, it had to be. Vaughn was not that cruel to do this to her.
Sydney sensed his hand on her shoulder, trying to bring her back and she snapped at him, "Get away from me. You're a liar." Her throat stung from the way the words rumbled out of them. Vaughn tried to touch her again but she pushed him away. It was her turn to be cold. "You said Will was fine after he got stabbed," she furiously accused. "If it all never happened than you're a liar."
"Syd, he's okay. I promise." He soothed her as if she were a child. "Will was never stabbed. He was tortured, I admit, but your father rescued him from Sark. He was going to trade the page, remember?"
There was that word again, 'remember.' She remembered fine. It seemed to be him, who was having the problem… and her father. "Where is my father?"
He said nothing.
"Why is he not here?"
"Calm down. Please. I'll go get some help."
Sydney grabbed his jacket. She swore, she would kill him, if he did not tell her.
"No, you'll stay here and tell me where he is."
Vaughn was pale and shaking. Sweat ran down the side of his face. He seemed scared. Sydney could only imagine what she looked like to him. "Your father, he disappeared shortly after. The CIA declared you dead and refused all help. We thought that maybe he had gone out on his own to find you. He hadn't. He surfaced about 3 months ago. It appeared he had been trying to obtain a Rambaldi manuscript for Sloane."
She had believed there could be no harsher blow than Vaughn's marriage. She had been wrong. Oh god, she thought, I'm going to vomit. Her father would never work for that man no matter what he alleged. She swallowed, doing her best to collect herself.
"What is being done to get him back?"
"I don't think you understand. There is no getting him back." Vaughn trailed off, almost afraid of concluding what needed to be said, "He's a traitor."
Her heart sank, her tears came back and she laughed a small, breathy, disbelieving laugh. It was all she could do. Her father, the man who had given his life to helping bring down Sloane, a traitor? That was impossible yet… She closed her eyes. Somewhere deep down Sydney knew Vaughn's words, like the ones of her death, were honest.
"Syd-"
"I don't want to hear another word, I really don't, but this hell, I just want it over with. Tell me the rest. I'm not asking for your sympathy. Please just say it, and get out. I deserve to be alone."
"There's nothing left to say," he whispered.
He leaned over and took her hand. A gesture of compassion, she supposed, but he might as well have slapped her. The sensation of the cold mental upon his hand, it hurt.
She slipped her hand away; it was not his to hold. Vaughn took it as his sign to depart and so he did with a few final words she barely registered.
Sydney lay back onto the hard bed and stared up to the ceiling. Her eyelids were heavy, but she would not close them. It would mean chancing sleep. To sleep meant to wake up and who knows where she'd find herself next time. An irrational fear, she acknowledged, but she would use the nighttime minutes to reflect instead.
Her father, could it be true? Had he given up on her as well? The way the CIA and Vaughn had? There was nothing left for her at the CIA now. No one to trust or confide in. Sure, they might take her back into their fold, but would she, and what happened to her, be a priority? No, she doubted it. Unless she had been with an extremist group or aiding some foreign enemy state, they'd placate and ignore her. Did this mean she was all alone? When she had told Vaughn she wanted to be, she hadn't meant this alone.
What if Sloane, or her mother, had to do with this? She'd never understand what Irina sought. Her betrayals were followed by seemingly altruistic deeds. Her mother had guided her, using Sark, to the building where Sloane held her father, allowing him to be saved. Why? It had benefited Sydney and the CIA but were her intentions pure? Then there was the roof.
Irina, trying to evade capture, stood on the ledge of the building. As much as she was supposed to despise the woman, Sydney was petrified Irina would jump. It would kill her for sure.
"Get off the ledge," she screamed.
"I'll tell you what you need to know."
"Get off the ledge now!"
"Sloane believes he's been chosen to realize the word of Rambaldi. But you, too, have been chosen."
"If you think I'm bluffing…"
"It's you in the prophecy, Sydney, not me. Only you can stop him." A proud, loving smile came to her mother's face. "Good luck, sweetheart."
"Get down now!"
"I love you."
Her heart jumped as Irina fell backwards off the ledge.
Just for a moment, she had thought her mother dead again and the little girl in her mourned. 'Sweetheart,' it was as if those fraudulent years of her youth never took place and her mother had always been there for her with nothing but love between them. She even had wished her good luck. Good luck? It was than Sydney realized, her mother had known! Irina knew something was to come, why else wish her luck? Sydney then knew what she had to do. The answers laid with her mother.
Vaughn would find her missing the next morning, with a few hours lead on him. He would contact the CIA for sure, and perhaps go looking for her himself. She was certain the old Vaughn would. She had little money and what she had was American, so wherever she was headed, it wouldn't get her far. She walked down dirty back alleys. She knew this place. She had been here once before, and there was something else she knew about this area. It was another chance she would have to take.
~
Contacting Irina was no easy task under even the most 'normal' of circumstances. In fact, it was nearly impossible. That was why, after a two year absence, Sydney was astounded that she was able to in a matter of a few days. She had gone to one of her mother's "known" facilities in Hong Kong, which the CIA had considered too small and insignificant to employ their resources in shutting it down, upon its discovery years earlier. Sydney then used her mother's own ploy; she turned herself in, making sure her name and relation to a one Irina Derevko was made well aware.
For days, she stayed within a rank, now empty storage room. The ceiling leaked, and it was cold but she would survive. At least she wasn't tied up, she reasoned and her captors had granted her a mat to lie on and a rough wool blanket to protect her from the chill. Not that it mattered. Sleep was scarce to the point of almost escaping her. Two pitiable meals were afforded to Sydney each day; bread and a salty broth or a bowl of a bland, gritty oatmeal-like substance. Her caretakers were kind compared to past ones but not generous. Time slowed. Her mind and body rebelled on being constantly contained. To be so was unnatural for someone who normally never got a chance to rest and it left her to thoughts she rather not have. Could this have been the biggest mistake she'd ever had made? Her tendency to act on emotions had been her downfall in the past; she prayed it would not be so again. For all she knew, she may have traded her current fate for one significantly worse.
It was on the fifth day, it seemed her answers were to come one way or the other. As she was taken from the small windowless room her eyes stung and watered from the sunlight streaking down from an above skylight. There was a table, which they sat her down. Chicken and dumplings, it was the best meal she had since well she couldn't even say when. Very good sign they were feeding her so well and they offered her a shower, which she gladly accepted. It felt good to be clean again and even better to put on the new clothing, a pair of gray cotton slacks and a white silk shirt, they gave her. If this had not been sign enough that everything was going to be fine, the reverent words of admiration they gave towards her mother, while they were sending her goodness knows where, was even better.
She was placed on a private plan, comfortable besides having guards hanging over her and watching her every move. She was not sure what they expected her to do. She had been searched when originally entering the facility. When they landed wherever their destination had been, they blindfolded her and took her to another location.
When the guard removed it, she found herself in a large welcoming office. An old English oak desk was the centerpiece of the room and it was flanked by three soft cushioned chairs, one behind it and two in front. Pictures of landscapes lined the wooden walls, and burgundy patterned rug filled the floor. It was night out, she noticed, through the closed shades.
"I've waited almost twenty two years for this," a voice behind her said, giving her a strange case of déjà vu. What was she trying to be funny? Not something Sydney would normally associate with her.
She turned to seeing a bright-eyed Irina, with an ecstatic smile on her face.
"Feels like only two to me."
Irina's smile faded and she took a few steps closer. "I knew this day would come but I never pictured it quite like this."
Oh god, Sydney thought. What is happening?
"You have nothing to say to me after all this time?" Irina continued softly.
She took a deep gulping breath. She had never been this scared in all her life. "Mom…" Her voice broke and tears filled her eyes. "What's happening?"
"That's for you to say."
"You know," she pouted like a spoiled child.
"No, I don't Sydney."
She had to think fast. She did not know were things stood so she couldn't give too much of what had happened away. "Dad, he works for Sloane again. Can I see him?" There was so much hope in that statement, Sydney knew she would always love her father no matter what he did.
"If you wanted to see you father, what are doing here?" Irina was clearly disappointed.
"Tell me where they are. Please, you work with them after all."
"I've never," she shook her head. "I work for no one but myself. Why would I ever work with Sloane of all people? And your father…" Irina felt regret. It was plastered on her face and in her voice.
Sydney was sick with confusion. It was like the last year of her life had never happened. Was this the dream or had the year been the dream?
"So you know SD-6 is not the CIA after all this time?"
"Sd-6 is gone!" she screamed in frustration.
"You're not well."
Sydney was going to reply when Irina hushed her and picked up the phone, a doctor was needed immediately, Irina did not care what the time was. She was taken to a small room, next to the office and asked to lay down on the bed. Sydney guessed it was for Irina's late over worked nights. The doctor, a small, lean, gray haired man, came some minutes later, obviously having no intention of keeping Irina Derevko waiting. He and her mother talked quietly in the corner.
He came to her with a sincere worried smile. "Let's just give you this little something to relax," he said in a thick Russian accent while sticking a needle in her arm.
After he had left, Irina handed her a cold glass of water she gratefully drank. Her body calmed and the tears stopped though her eyes, she knew, were still swollen red.
"It's late. You rest and we will talk more in the morning."
Even if her mother had not suggested the idea, Sydney would have fallen into the deep sleep anyway. Her body was exhausted after days of sleep deprivation and the drug allowed it what it needed so badly.
When she awoke, a corn muffin and a cup of coffee awaited her. She drank the coffee and reflected on how she would need more soon. Though she had slept many hours, she was still weary. Sydney saw a note accompanied the breakfast. She was wanted in her mother's office upon rising.
The morning sunshine filled the office, bringing out colors she was sure were missing the night before. It was done up in reds and golds and not the brown and burgundy her eyes saw before. It was just as pretty but had a livelier rich feel to it. Her mother was seated at the desk, looking ever the professional. She wore a brown pants suit and her hair was up in a bun. It was the same appearance she had in the grainy video footage Sydney saw over a year… no three years ago, after learning her mother's true status as a spy for the KGB.
Sark, her nemesis, sat off in the corner in on a couch. She shouldn't have been amazed. Where her mother was Sark was bound to be near by. His loyalty to her was something Sydney had never truly understood.
His blue eyes, for once, were showing emotion. They were perplexed. She was unsure if it was not trusting the enemy or if it was her very presence here that brought of that deep blue, bewildered expression to them but something had. Maybe it was just his fine tailed navy suit causing the illusion of mystified blue eyes, she thought with a laugh… but no, he was studying her. It reminded her of his piercing glares across the table of SD-6. She felt vulnerable under that analytical gaze but she'd never show it.
Her mother directed her to sit down and she did, turning her back on Sark. It was not something she would ever consider doing normally but she was anxious to avoid his stare.
"How are you doing?" Irina with concern, questioned.
"Fine."
"Now, I need you to tell me why you are really here." Irina was studying her just as intently as Sark moments earlier.
Why she was here? The truth was she didn't know. What was she to say? Mom, I swear we have met before. You turned yourself into the CIA and betrayed us, remember? No, she wouldn't. No one did but Sydney herself. What to say? She couldn't yet trust her mother. She would have to appraise the situation first if Irina allowed her the opportunity.
"I've come here for your help. Sloane, I am afraid he will kill me now I'm aware of the truth." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the full story either. "I have no one to turn to, no one to trust."
"Not even me," Irina chimed in.
What are you hiding, Syd realized, was left unsaid.
"I need your protection."
"But if you assumed I was working with Sloane, why come here?"
A good question and Sydney felt stupid for not seeing it coming.
"I was investigating where your allegiances lied."
"And just what would I expect in return for this protection?" Irina sounded unimpressed by her explanation.
"My skills as a spy and devotion to your organization." A deal with the devil was being made, Sydney mused. Betray all she believed in for the answers to her past. Somehow, she suspected there was no choice in the matter. Besides, it would allow her to test the waters of her mother's reliability in helping with the real issues she faced.
"That is worthy of my protection for sure and since you are now my employee I suggest will get right down to business. Your mission partner will be Sark-"
"Sark!" She looked back at him with disgust.
Irina arched an eyebrow. "I see you two have met," she snickered with a smile, which to some would appear evil.
At last Sark choose to join the conversation. "I don't believe we've ever been officially introduced."
Those words reminded Sydney of every reason she hated the man. "Do you have some attachment to that phrase," she snapped. It only took a second for embarrassment to hit her. They had no idea what she was talking about and she would be showing her hand far too early in the game to explain.
"Whatever was between you two in the past, leave it there Sydney. We'll get no where if you hold grudges for earlier behavior."
Irina was right. She couldn't allow her dislike of him to get in her way. She'd wait for the glint of the knife destined for her back before she attacked the bastard again.
Irina must have seen see reached this conclusion for she went on, "Good. I have matters to attend to. I've given Sark off the day. He'll get you settled and you can become acquainted with your new partner.
The idea of spending time with Sark was not a pleasant one. "I'm not some pet that needs looking after."
"No, you're an employee, who can't be trusted."
She had a point.
~
End of Chapter 1
Author: prlrocks
Rating: PG-13 but future parts of the series may hit R or NC-17
Spoilers: Up to the final
Time line/Genre: Post telling & AU/Angst/Romance
Ship: S/S with overtones of S/V
Disclaimer: It's fanfiction. Do you really think I own them?
Summary: Sydney begins to wonder if she's not the only one who doesn't remember what really happened during the last two years. Upon learning her fate, Syd begins understanding her place in the world and of those around her.
Notes: Many thanks to my betas, Jen, Susan and RED and to Aliasscape, who turned out to be a wonderful muse and helper in planning this fic. I couldn't do this without you guys. This is the first part in a series I hope you all will enjoy. Reviews are appreciated more than I could ever say.
~
Something was wrong, he could tell from the fright in her voice. He ran. He did not know how much time he had left. His tired feet hit the ground again and again, down the series of white narrow halls, his black leather duster slowing every step. There it was! As he reached the closing door, he saw her panicked eyes widen in horror. Frantic to get the door open by any means, he pounded his aching fists into the pane repeatedly. It had to open! But it was too late. For one last moment, they stared into each other's eyes before that one last final breath was obtained and then she was gone. When it was all over, there was no reminder of what had happened besides a pair of bloodied hands.
~
God she wished she was numb. To never have felt, that would have been the greatest thing that could have ever happened to her. She would willfully trade each smile and every damn laugh to make this crushing pain inside her go away. It wasn't like she was ever truly happy. Anything that could be thought as being so was tainted and ugly in remembrance. For so short a life, the list of horrific events that haunted her was so long. Her mother's supposed 'death,' Danny's all too real assassination, learning her guilt in aiding one of the world's most immoral men; all were scars on her presence. There was no fighting their hold on her, in days to come. Pain and devastation, it seemed, was enamored with her.
And here it was again. When Sydney woke, she thought with a laugh, it was as if the last few days had not been enough. Almost seeing one of her best and closest friends executed for treason would have stood out alone as being one of those unspeakable moments.But then there was the added pang of discovering her Francie was long gone; how long, she did not know. She had been murdered and replaced by a double sent to spy on and manipulate both her and Will. At least he was okay. Sydney had been certain Will's life had come to an end, as much as Danny's had. That could be her one consolation for everything that had happened.
So Sydney sat, wrapped in self-pity and a rough wool blanket, waiting for him to return. Vaughn had given the pretense of needing to nourish her, in order to contact the CIA on what to do next.
Two years! How was that possible? Two years had gone by and she recalled nothing of it. Even worse somehow, was realizing Vaughn had married Alice. Everything she had thought they had together was nothing to him. He was being so cold and distant. Shouldn't he have run to her? Grabbed her and told her how much he had missed her? How he was sorry that he had given up hope? But no… he had almost said nothing. Shock she told herself. He did not anticipate this but somewhere deep down she knew this was denial just begging this horror away.That two years, such a brief time really, had been enough for him to get over her, dead or not, was too much to bear.
Alice, she cursed. Never had she loathed a word more, and how dare he question why she was focusing on his private life. He acted as though it was no concern to her. It was very much her concern that he had wedded that bitch, as Sydney now referred to her, barely six months after she had disappeared. How dare he? She may have not given him much, but it was sure as hell worth more than a few months grief from the man. This betrayal stung considerably more than any other had.
"Here, eat this," the unexpected voice commanded.
Sydney startled, but recovered with the roll her eyes, thinking of a lovely reply to that request. A bowl of fried rice, she sulked, as if she was not sick of eating that already. Didn't matter, she wasn't really hungry as she had told him. All she wanted was to sit there and imagine ways to make Vaughn suffer for what he had done to her. Which technique of torture, she pondered, would be the most befitting of his 'crime'? She yearned to see how well he faired under such extreme pain.
He sat huddled over, hands grasped between the knees, staring at her with concern. Did he insist she take a bite? She did, eager to make that expression in his ever green eyes go way. Why did he have to gaze at her like that? His eyes held immense guilt; they were consumed by it and he could barely look at her for the pain it caused. This, of course, made her feel worse, if anything could, for her thoughts. Damn him. It was her turn to pine. She cursed him, far less enthusiastically than she had seconds before.
"I'd like some rest," Sydney grumbled, giving him a reason to leave. At least then, she could be angry without having to feel guilty for it. She sensed he was leaving, but was mistaken.
"Sydney, there are some other things I did not tell you." He paced across the room, hands twitching and distress reflected in his eyes. "I watched you die." Vaughn choked upon the word and held his hand to his trembling mouth to stop the sobs escaping it.
"No, no I am here." She reached out, wanting comfort him but he shunned her and sat back into a creaky old chair.
"I tried," as much as he attempted to contain the sobs he couldn't. "I tried so hard to save you. I pounded on the glass till my hands bleed but you were gone."
Sydney's head spun in bewilderment. What was he talking about? She peered up at him. Vaughn was trying to stop his tears, and absent-mindedly playing with the gold band upon his finger. She wondered if he was regretting the day he moved on. Even though it would cause him heartache, she hoped it did. It would dull her own suffering. She then scolded herself for wishing sorrow on someone she was meant to love. He glanced up at her with those green sincere eyes and his forehead wrinkled. She smiled. In a moment like this, she took comfort in the familiar sight.
"I was so sure. There was no way." He sighed and ran his hand over his cheek to dry it. "You were trapped. The water came rushing behind you.I swear, I saw you take your last breath before the water swept you away from my sight."
Syd's eyes bulged out from what she was hearing. Either this was the worse dream she ever had or Vaughn had gone insane.
"Vaughn," she took a deep breath and thought on how to say this. "It wasn't I who drowned in Taipei, it was you and besides, I saved you later on.. Khasinau's lab, remember?" She gave a desperate nod yes, pleading with him to agree.
He didn't.
"Syd, I don't know what has happened, why you don't remember what occurred. All I can think of is that you must of hit your head, amnesia, something. I am just glad you're alive. For so long I've blamed myself. I still do. If you hadn't warned me none of this would have happened."
It was too much. Sydney jumped off the bed frantically to do something, but she didn't know what. Her ears were flooded and she felt lost. She pulled at her hair and at her sweater in same attempt to do something, to make this feeling go away. She heard her heart beating, so fast, over and over, and it ached. Sydney moaned, grabbing her chest as tears continued to streak her cheeks. Vaughn's face, so strange; it seemed so alarmed yet distorted to her vision. Vaughn appeared to be saying something but still nothing but the rapping of her heart and the whooshing of air reached her ears. This wasn't happening. Syd pleaded for it all to cease. Make it stop, please, she begged. She covered her ears and screamed, falling to the floor. She curled up tight wanting to disappear. Nothing could hurt her like this, she told herself, nothing. He was lying; all lies. She would wake up in her warm bed and Francie would be there and Will. A dream, it had to be. Vaughn was not that cruel to do this to her.
Sydney sensed his hand on her shoulder, trying to bring her back and she snapped at him, "Get away from me. You're a liar." Her throat stung from the way the words rumbled out of them. Vaughn tried to touch her again but she pushed him away. It was her turn to be cold. "You said Will was fine after he got stabbed," she furiously accused. "If it all never happened than you're a liar."
"Syd, he's okay. I promise." He soothed her as if she were a child. "Will was never stabbed. He was tortured, I admit, but your father rescued him from Sark. He was going to trade the page, remember?"
There was that word again, 'remember.' She remembered fine. It seemed to be him, who was having the problem… and her father. "Where is my father?"
He said nothing.
"Why is he not here?"
"Calm down. Please. I'll go get some help."
Sydney grabbed his jacket. She swore, she would kill him, if he did not tell her.
"No, you'll stay here and tell me where he is."
Vaughn was pale and shaking. Sweat ran down the side of his face. He seemed scared. Sydney could only imagine what she looked like to him. "Your father, he disappeared shortly after. The CIA declared you dead and refused all help. We thought that maybe he had gone out on his own to find you. He hadn't. He surfaced about 3 months ago. It appeared he had been trying to obtain a Rambaldi manuscript for Sloane."
She had believed there could be no harsher blow than Vaughn's marriage. She had been wrong. Oh god, she thought, I'm going to vomit. Her father would never work for that man no matter what he alleged. She swallowed, doing her best to collect herself.
"What is being done to get him back?"
"I don't think you understand. There is no getting him back." Vaughn trailed off, almost afraid of concluding what needed to be said, "He's a traitor."
Her heart sank, her tears came back and she laughed a small, breathy, disbelieving laugh. It was all she could do. Her father, the man who had given his life to helping bring down Sloane, a traitor? That was impossible yet… She closed her eyes. Somewhere deep down Sydney knew Vaughn's words, like the ones of her death, were honest.
"Syd-"
"I don't want to hear another word, I really don't, but this hell, I just want it over with. Tell me the rest. I'm not asking for your sympathy. Please just say it, and get out. I deserve to be alone."
"There's nothing left to say," he whispered.
He leaned over and took her hand. A gesture of compassion, she supposed, but he might as well have slapped her. The sensation of the cold mental upon his hand, it hurt.
She slipped her hand away; it was not his to hold. Vaughn took it as his sign to depart and so he did with a few final words she barely registered.
Sydney lay back onto the hard bed and stared up to the ceiling. Her eyelids were heavy, but she would not close them. It would mean chancing sleep. To sleep meant to wake up and who knows where she'd find herself next time. An irrational fear, she acknowledged, but she would use the nighttime minutes to reflect instead.
Her father, could it be true? Had he given up on her as well? The way the CIA and Vaughn had? There was nothing left for her at the CIA now. No one to trust or confide in. Sure, they might take her back into their fold, but would she, and what happened to her, be a priority? No, she doubted it. Unless she had been with an extremist group or aiding some foreign enemy state, they'd placate and ignore her. Did this mean she was all alone? When she had told Vaughn she wanted to be, she hadn't meant this alone.
What if Sloane, or her mother, had to do with this? She'd never understand what Irina sought. Her betrayals were followed by seemingly altruistic deeds. Her mother had guided her, using Sark, to the building where Sloane held her father, allowing him to be saved. Why? It had benefited Sydney and the CIA but were her intentions pure? Then there was the roof.
Irina, trying to evade capture, stood on the ledge of the building. As much as she was supposed to despise the woman, Sydney was petrified Irina would jump. It would kill her for sure.
"Get off the ledge," she screamed.
"I'll tell you what you need to know."
"Get off the ledge now!"
"Sloane believes he's been chosen to realize the word of Rambaldi. But you, too, have been chosen."
"If you think I'm bluffing…"
"It's you in the prophecy, Sydney, not me. Only you can stop him." A proud, loving smile came to her mother's face. "Good luck, sweetheart."
"Get down now!"
"I love you."
Her heart jumped as Irina fell backwards off the ledge.
Just for a moment, she had thought her mother dead again and the little girl in her mourned. 'Sweetheart,' it was as if those fraudulent years of her youth never took place and her mother had always been there for her with nothing but love between them. She even had wished her good luck. Good luck? It was than Sydney realized, her mother had known! Irina knew something was to come, why else wish her luck? Sydney then knew what she had to do. The answers laid with her mother.
Vaughn would find her missing the next morning, with a few hours lead on him. He would contact the CIA for sure, and perhaps go looking for her himself. She was certain the old Vaughn would. She had little money and what she had was American, so wherever she was headed, it wouldn't get her far. She walked down dirty back alleys. She knew this place. She had been here once before, and there was something else she knew about this area. It was another chance she would have to take.
~
Contacting Irina was no easy task under even the most 'normal' of circumstances. In fact, it was nearly impossible. That was why, after a two year absence, Sydney was astounded that she was able to in a matter of a few days. She had gone to one of her mother's "known" facilities in Hong Kong, which the CIA had considered too small and insignificant to employ their resources in shutting it down, upon its discovery years earlier. Sydney then used her mother's own ploy; she turned herself in, making sure her name and relation to a one Irina Derevko was made well aware.
For days, she stayed within a rank, now empty storage room. The ceiling leaked, and it was cold but she would survive. At least she wasn't tied up, she reasoned and her captors had granted her a mat to lie on and a rough wool blanket to protect her from the chill. Not that it mattered. Sleep was scarce to the point of almost escaping her. Two pitiable meals were afforded to Sydney each day; bread and a salty broth or a bowl of a bland, gritty oatmeal-like substance. Her caretakers were kind compared to past ones but not generous. Time slowed. Her mind and body rebelled on being constantly contained. To be so was unnatural for someone who normally never got a chance to rest and it left her to thoughts she rather not have. Could this have been the biggest mistake she'd ever had made? Her tendency to act on emotions had been her downfall in the past; she prayed it would not be so again. For all she knew, she may have traded her current fate for one significantly worse.
It was on the fifth day, it seemed her answers were to come one way or the other. As she was taken from the small windowless room her eyes stung and watered from the sunlight streaking down from an above skylight. There was a table, which they sat her down. Chicken and dumplings, it was the best meal she had since well she couldn't even say when. Very good sign they were feeding her so well and they offered her a shower, which she gladly accepted. It felt good to be clean again and even better to put on the new clothing, a pair of gray cotton slacks and a white silk shirt, they gave her. If this had not been sign enough that everything was going to be fine, the reverent words of admiration they gave towards her mother, while they were sending her goodness knows where, was even better.
She was placed on a private plan, comfortable besides having guards hanging over her and watching her every move. She was not sure what they expected her to do. She had been searched when originally entering the facility. When they landed wherever their destination had been, they blindfolded her and took her to another location.
When the guard removed it, she found herself in a large welcoming office. An old English oak desk was the centerpiece of the room and it was flanked by three soft cushioned chairs, one behind it and two in front. Pictures of landscapes lined the wooden walls, and burgundy patterned rug filled the floor. It was night out, she noticed, through the closed shades.
"I've waited almost twenty two years for this," a voice behind her said, giving her a strange case of déjà vu. What was she trying to be funny? Not something Sydney would normally associate with her.
She turned to seeing a bright-eyed Irina, with an ecstatic smile on her face.
"Feels like only two to me."
Irina's smile faded and she took a few steps closer. "I knew this day would come but I never pictured it quite like this."
Oh god, Sydney thought. What is happening?
"You have nothing to say to me after all this time?" Irina continued softly.
She took a deep gulping breath. She had never been this scared in all her life. "Mom…" Her voice broke and tears filled her eyes. "What's happening?"
"That's for you to say."
"You know," she pouted like a spoiled child.
"No, I don't Sydney."
She had to think fast. She did not know were things stood so she couldn't give too much of what had happened away. "Dad, he works for Sloane again. Can I see him?" There was so much hope in that statement, Sydney knew she would always love her father no matter what he did.
"If you wanted to see you father, what are doing here?" Irina was clearly disappointed.
"Tell me where they are. Please, you work with them after all."
"I've never," she shook her head. "I work for no one but myself. Why would I ever work with Sloane of all people? And your father…" Irina felt regret. It was plastered on her face and in her voice.
Sydney was sick with confusion. It was like the last year of her life had never happened. Was this the dream or had the year been the dream?
"So you know SD-6 is not the CIA after all this time?"
"Sd-6 is gone!" she screamed in frustration.
"You're not well."
Sydney was going to reply when Irina hushed her and picked up the phone, a doctor was needed immediately, Irina did not care what the time was. She was taken to a small room, next to the office and asked to lay down on the bed. Sydney guessed it was for Irina's late over worked nights. The doctor, a small, lean, gray haired man, came some minutes later, obviously having no intention of keeping Irina Derevko waiting. He and her mother talked quietly in the corner.
He came to her with a sincere worried smile. "Let's just give you this little something to relax," he said in a thick Russian accent while sticking a needle in her arm.
After he had left, Irina handed her a cold glass of water she gratefully drank. Her body calmed and the tears stopped though her eyes, she knew, were still swollen red.
"It's late. You rest and we will talk more in the morning."
Even if her mother had not suggested the idea, Sydney would have fallen into the deep sleep anyway. Her body was exhausted after days of sleep deprivation and the drug allowed it what it needed so badly.
When she awoke, a corn muffin and a cup of coffee awaited her. She drank the coffee and reflected on how she would need more soon. Though she had slept many hours, she was still weary. Sydney saw a note accompanied the breakfast. She was wanted in her mother's office upon rising.
The morning sunshine filled the office, bringing out colors she was sure were missing the night before. It was done up in reds and golds and not the brown and burgundy her eyes saw before. It was just as pretty but had a livelier rich feel to it. Her mother was seated at the desk, looking ever the professional. She wore a brown pants suit and her hair was up in a bun. It was the same appearance she had in the grainy video footage Sydney saw over a year… no three years ago, after learning her mother's true status as a spy for the KGB.
Sark, her nemesis, sat off in the corner in on a couch. She shouldn't have been amazed. Where her mother was Sark was bound to be near by. His loyalty to her was something Sydney had never truly understood.
His blue eyes, for once, were showing emotion. They were perplexed. She was unsure if it was not trusting the enemy or if it was her very presence here that brought of that deep blue, bewildered expression to them but something had. Maybe it was just his fine tailed navy suit causing the illusion of mystified blue eyes, she thought with a laugh… but no, he was studying her. It reminded her of his piercing glares across the table of SD-6. She felt vulnerable under that analytical gaze but she'd never show it.
Her mother directed her to sit down and she did, turning her back on Sark. It was not something she would ever consider doing normally but she was anxious to avoid his stare.
"How are you doing?" Irina with concern, questioned.
"Fine."
"Now, I need you to tell me why you are really here." Irina was studying her just as intently as Sark moments earlier.
Why she was here? The truth was she didn't know. What was she to say? Mom, I swear we have met before. You turned yourself into the CIA and betrayed us, remember? No, she wouldn't. No one did but Sydney herself. What to say? She couldn't yet trust her mother. She would have to appraise the situation first if Irina allowed her the opportunity.
"I've come here for your help. Sloane, I am afraid he will kill me now I'm aware of the truth." It wasn't a lie but it wasn't the full story either. "I have no one to turn to, no one to trust."
"Not even me," Irina chimed in.
What are you hiding, Syd realized, was left unsaid.
"I need your protection."
"But if you assumed I was working with Sloane, why come here?"
A good question and Sydney felt stupid for not seeing it coming.
"I was investigating where your allegiances lied."
"And just what would I expect in return for this protection?" Irina sounded unimpressed by her explanation.
"My skills as a spy and devotion to your organization." A deal with the devil was being made, Sydney mused. Betray all she believed in for the answers to her past. Somehow, she suspected there was no choice in the matter. Besides, it would allow her to test the waters of her mother's reliability in helping with the real issues she faced.
"That is worthy of my protection for sure and since you are now my employee I suggest will get right down to business. Your mission partner will be Sark-"
"Sark!" She looked back at him with disgust.
Irina arched an eyebrow. "I see you two have met," she snickered with a smile, which to some would appear evil.
At last Sark choose to join the conversation. "I don't believe we've ever been officially introduced."
Those words reminded Sydney of every reason she hated the man. "Do you have some attachment to that phrase," she snapped. It only took a second for embarrassment to hit her. They had no idea what she was talking about and she would be showing her hand far too early in the game to explain.
"Whatever was between you two in the past, leave it there Sydney. We'll get no where if you hold grudges for earlier behavior."
Irina was right. She couldn't allow her dislike of him to get in her way. She'd wait for the glint of the knife destined for her back before she attacked the bastard again.
Irina must have seen see reached this conclusion for she went on, "Good. I have matters to attend to. I've given Sark off the day. He'll get you settled and you can become acquainted with your new partner.
The idea of spending time with Sark was not a pleasant one. "I'm not some pet that needs looking after."
"No, you're an employee, who can't be trusted."
She had a point.
~
End of Chapter 1