Chapter 5: What do you know about Mom?
Disclaimer: Alias isn't mine, but if JJ and ABC want to give it to me, Christmas is coming up…
A/N: I want to apologize again if I offended anybody over the while spelling error thing. I plan to eventually remove the review, just so we have no reminders of this mess sitting around. _____________________________________________________________________________________
Lorrie had run straight home, but she waited outside until she heard her father's car pull up. After the easy companionship of the afternoon, she couldn't face going inside the big empty house. She didn't want to think how Sydney must be feeling now that she was alone, too. She hated to think her mother could be alive like Sydney's mother, especially if she was a criminal. She wasn't really looking forward to a conversation with her father, either. So she sat on the chilly back steps and made her mind a blank,
When she heard the car, she quickly slipped into the living room, through which her father would have to pass to get to his study. She sat silently while he moved around the kitchen, probably fixing himself a drink, Lorrie thought. He doesn't even care that I have unlimited access to that stuff.
Then she heard him go upstairs to his bedroom. Changing out of his precious suit, she thought bitterly. When he finally came into the living room, he seemed shocked to find her there.
"Shouldn't you be doing your homework?" he asked absently.
"I don't have any," Lorrie replied, and waited for his next attempt to get rid of her.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"I ate an hour and a half ago."
"Did you clean your dishes?"
"There are no dirty dishes in the sink."
When her father fell silent, Lorrie took advantage of the lull.
"Can I talk to you?" she asked in a firm yet imploring voice. It would be easier if she could make it clear that was exactly what she intended to do. If she sounded tentative, he might think she was in trouble.
"Fine," he muttered. He took her into his study and sat behind his desk, leaving her the chairs where all the private detectives sat while he yelled at them for not finding out enough; nothing was ever enough for him. Lorrie was pretty sure it was intentional.
"What do you know about Mom?" she asked as soon as she sat down, taking control before he had a chance.
He stared at her blankly.
"What?" he finally asked in astonishment.
"I want to know everything you've found out about Mom's disappearance," she forced herself to say. She held his gaze.
"You...you believe she didn't die?" he stuttered.
"Yes," she lied. "Now what do you know?"
He sighed and shook his head, visibly relaxing for some reason unknown to Lorrie.
"If she's still alive, she's done a damn good job of covering her tracks," he said candidly. "I've never, in all this time, seen proof that she died in the crash, which should be there, but I haven't seen any leads as to where she is now, either."
Lorrie could think of nothing else convincing to say, so she was just as candid. "She had new brakes put on her car two days before the accident," she revealed.
"Really? Doesn't matter. She was a big mechanics girl. She could've rigged 'em to look like they failed. Or may be they did, she just saw it as the perfect opportunity to escape," he said thoughtfully.
He remained silent for a long moment but picked up a file and started going through it.
"Do you have any pictures of your mother?" he asked, pulling something out.
"No," she lied again. She didn't want him to know that she'd stolen several of them from photo albums in the attic and had them hidden in her room.
"Here. You should have. If you should see her, I want you to remember what she looks like," he added. He passed her an unfamiliar picture of her mother, in which she looked slightly older than in any other picture Lorrie had seen of her.
"Oh. Of…of course," she muttered. "Can I see anything you have about her?"
"You mean like papers, reports?" She nodded. "I don't have anything like that. I only accept verbal reports from the detectives." He dropped hid eyes to look guiltily at a box in the corner, but looked back quickly. "I have to get some work done, okay? Can we talk later?"
Lorrie agreed readily. She had found what she'd come for; she could only hope he didn't suspect she saw him look at it and move it.
"Okay. I'm tired anyway. I think I'll just go to bed," she said.
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Danny rushed into the kitchen when he heard Sydney. She jumped when he touched her shoulder, but when she saw him she turned and wrapped her arms around him.
"Sydney!" he cried in alarm. "Honey, what's wrong? Are you okay?!?" When she nodded into his shoulder, he continued, "Is it Jaime?"
"N-no!" she sobbed incomprehensibly. "It's m-my m-m-mother!"
"Your…mother?" he asked, confused. "Didn't you tell me she died?"
"Uh-huh," she sobbed.
"Honey, what's wrong?" he cried in exasperation.
She tried to explain, but her voice shook and cracked so much that Danny couldn't understand a word of it; she was babbling.
Finally, she gave up and just cried. For ten minutes, she just cried. When she finally became quiet, Danny put her away from him gently so he could look at her.
"Tell me what's wrong, Honey," Danny ordered softly, looking woefully at the tears still streaming down Sydney's face.
Sydney took a shaky breath and closed her eyes for a moment.
"My mother…didn't die. I spoke to her. Dad told me…he knew," she said, dissolving into tears again.
Danny stared at her. "She…how…alive?" he sputtered.
"She called me twice today. My dad thinks…" She stopped. She had been about to say, "Dad thinks the house is bugged, but she thought better of it. She jumped up and when she returned she had the bug killer in hand. She tossed it onto the kitchen table. "Dad thinks she may have bugged the house. She's a criminal, Danny!"
"What's that thing?" Danny asked, looking at the cigarette pack warily.
"It's a bug killer. Dad brought it. He also told me he intends to have a guard posted here 24/7." When Danny continued to stare, she realized she'd left out one important fact. "He works for the CIA. And Mom was a Russian Spy."
"You're serious? No wonder Jack wants a guard here. Did he say when?" Danny asked carefully.
"In the morning, probably."
Sydney was devoid of any emotion, having reached an apathetic state born of exhaustion.
Danny nodded. "I'll stay home tomorrow if the guy isn't here before you have to leave. Do you want to leave Jaime here or take him on to day care?" he asked.
"I'll leave him here. You haven't seen him nearly enough lately, you've been so busy." Sydney looked at the floor and sighed. "I think I'm going to bed. There's spaghetti in the kitchen."
"Okay, Honey," Danny murmured sympathetically. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Try to sleep, okay?"
She smiled weakly. "I'll try."
Slowly, she walked down the hallway to their bedroom and somehow, perhaps from mental exhaustion, she managed to fall asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
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Oh! Poor Sydney...remember, she hasn't been trained to hide things since she never was in the CIA. I don't really like this version of Syd, but I can live with her, can't you?
Please review! You can tell me what you think of "emotional" Syd...
Disclaimer: Alias isn't mine, but if JJ and ABC want to give it to me, Christmas is coming up…
A/N: I want to apologize again if I offended anybody over the while spelling error thing. I plan to eventually remove the review, just so we have no reminders of this mess sitting around. _____________________________________________________________________________________
Lorrie had run straight home, but she waited outside until she heard her father's car pull up. After the easy companionship of the afternoon, she couldn't face going inside the big empty house. She didn't want to think how Sydney must be feeling now that she was alone, too. She hated to think her mother could be alive like Sydney's mother, especially if she was a criminal. She wasn't really looking forward to a conversation with her father, either. So she sat on the chilly back steps and made her mind a blank,
When she heard the car, she quickly slipped into the living room, through which her father would have to pass to get to his study. She sat silently while he moved around the kitchen, probably fixing himself a drink, Lorrie thought. He doesn't even care that I have unlimited access to that stuff.
Then she heard him go upstairs to his bedroom. Changing out of his precious suit, she thought bitterly. When he finally came into the living room, he seemed shocked to find her there.
"Shouldn't you be doing your homework?" he asked absently.
"I don't have any," Lorrie replied, and waited for his next attempt to get rid of her.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"I ate an hour and a half ago."
"Did you clean your dishes?"
"There are no dirty dishes in the sink."
When her father fell silent, Lorrie took advantage of the lull.
"Can I talk to you?" she asked in a firm yet imploring voice. It would be easier if she could make it clear that was exactly what she intended to do. If she sounded tentative, he might think she was in trouble.
"Fine," he muttered. He took her into his study and sat behind his desk, leaving her the chairs where all the private detectives sat while he yelled at them for not finding out enough; nothing was ever enough for him. Lorrie was pretty sure it was intentional.
"What do you know about Mom?" she asked as soon as she sat down, taking control before he had a chance.
He stared at her blankly.
"What?" he finally asked in astonishment.
"I want to know everything you've found out about Mom's disappearance," she forced herself to say. She held his gaze.
"You...you believe she didn't die?" he stuttered.
"Yes," she lied. "Now what do you know?"
He sighed and shook his head, visibly relaxing for some reason unknown to Lorrie.
"If she's still alive, she's done a damn good job of covering her tracks," he said candidly. "I've never, in all this time, seen proof that she died in the crash, which should be there, but I haven't seen any leads as to where she is now, either."
Lorrie could think of nothing else convincing to say, so she was just as candid. "She had new brakes put on her car two days before the accident," she revealed.
"Really? Doesn't matter. She was a big mechanics girl. She could've rigged 'em to look like they failed. Or may be they did, she just saw it as the perfect opportunity to escape," he said thoughtfully.
He remained silent for a long moment but picked up a file and started going through it.
"Do you have any pictures of your mother?" he asked, pulling something out.
"No," she lied again. She didn't want him to know that she'd stolen several of them from photo albums in the attic and had them hidden in her room.
"Here. You should have. If you should see her, I want you to remember what she looks like," he added. He passed her an unfamiliar picture of her mother, in which she looked slightly older than in any other picture Lorrie had seen of her.
"Oh. Of…of course," she muttered. "Can I see anything you have about her?"
"You mean like papers, reports?" She nodded. "I don't have anything like that. I only accept verbal reports from the detectives." He dropped hid eyes to look guiltily at a box in the corner, but looked back quickly. "I have to get some work done, okay? Can we talk later?"
Lorrie agreed readily. She had found what she'd come for; she could only hope he didn't suspect she saw him look at it and move it.
"Okay. I'm tired anyway. I think I'll just go to bed," she said.
******************************************************************************************
Danny rushed into the kitchen when he heard Sydney. She jumped when he touched her shoulder, but when she saw him she turned and wrapped her arms around him.
"Sydney!" he cried in alarm. "Honey, what's wrong? Are you okay?!?" When she nodded into his shoulder, he continued, "Is it Jaime?"
"N-no!" she sobbed incomprehensibly. "It's m-my m-m-mother!"
"Your…mother?" he asked, confused. "Didn't you tell me she died?"
"Uh-huh," she sobbed.
"Honey, what's wrong?" he cried in exasperation.
She tried to explain, but her voice shook and cracked so much that Danny couldn't understand a word of it; she was babbling.
Finally, she gave up and just cried. For ten minutes, she just cried. When she finally became quiet, Danny put her away from him gently so he could look at her.
"Tell me what's wrong, Honey," Danny ordered softly, looking woefully at the tears still streaming down Sydney's face.
Sydney took a shaky breath and closed her eyes for a moment.
"My mother…didn't die. I spoke to her. Dad told me…he knew," she said, dissolving into tears again.
Danny stared at her. "She…how…alive?" he sputtered.
"She called me twice today. My dad thinks…" She stopped. She had been about to say, "Dad thinks the house is bugged, but she thought better of it. She jumped up and when she returned she had the bug killer in hand. She tossed it onto the kitchen table. "Dad thinks she may have bugged the house. She's a criminal, Danny!"
"What's that thing?" Danny asked, looking at the cigarette pack warily.
"It's a bug killer. Dad brought it. He also told me he intends to have a guard posted here 24/7." When Danny continued to stare, she realized she'd left out one important fact. "He works for the CIA. And Mom was a Russian Spy."
"You're serious? No wonder Jack wants a guard here. Did he say when?" Danny asked carefully.
"In the morning, probably."
Sydney was devoid of any emotion, having reached an apathetic state born of exhaustion.
Danny nodded. "I'll stay home tomorrow if the guy isn't here before you have to leave. Do you want to leave Jaime here or take him on to day care?" he asked.
"I'll leave him here. You haven't seen him nearly enough lately, you've been so busy." Sydney looked at the floor and sighed. "I think I'm going to bed. There's spaghetti in the kitchen."
"Okay, Honey," Danny murmured sympathetically. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. "Try to sleep, okay?"
She smiled weakly. "I'll try."
Slowly, she walked down the hallway to their bedroom and somehow, perhaps from mental exhaustion, she managed to fall asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Oh! Poor Sydney...remember, she hasn't been trained to hide things since she never was in the CIA. I don't really like this version of Syd, but I can live with her, can't you?
Please review! You can tell me what you think of "emotional" Syd...