Chapter 12: Teach Me Not To

Disclaimer: Alias isn't mine :(

A/N: Responses to some of the reviews for Chapter 11...They were well deserving of responses…

Spana- If Danny leaves Syd, how can it be a happy ending? Besides, may be I want to kill Danny…mua-ha-ha-ha!

Jean-gray18- I like you! I'm all for murdering everybody I can get away with murdering…And I would mention the "spice" one of my friends suggested I have in the story, but this is supposed to be PG…

Nicole- I was thinking of heading that way. If fact, that's exactly where I might take this. I'm working on getting Danny and Taylor into trouble…But then it would have to be a tragic ending, and I like to wrap it up nice and neat. Who knows…

Heidi- Thanks! My aim was to make Taylor unlikable, and that's a big compliment for you to tell me you just don't like him! lol

darrel doom vomit- Wouldn't that be just the perfect way to implement him in Syd's life? Hehehe…

English- Of course I can't kill him! I just wanted to see if anyone would really want me to…I'm S/V shippie all the way! (The "spice" mentioned above refers to S/V, by the way…)

YoungStarsOwner- Another vote for Taylor? Great! I didn't know I'd made him that unlikable! Thanks!

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"Hello?" Sydney said, snatching up the ringing phone. For some reason, the sound bothered her.

"Sydney, don't react. I know that agent is with you. Please, just listen. I want to talk to you in person."

Sydney remained quiet for a long time.

"Sydney?" Irina Derevko finally said quietly.

"When?" Sydney said, carefully regulating her voice as she was well aware that Michael lurked somewhere, listening, wherever he'd last hidden himself. He'd made himself scarce ever since they'd agreed to just be on the same side, which in turn made her nervous.

"I can't say now. I'm not sure who's listening. Please, Sydney, don't tell anyone you spoke to me again."

Something about the way the woman phrased her request, or may be it was just the hum of the dial tone in her ear, snapped Sydney out of the haze her mind had slipped into.

"Damn you," she mouthed, afraid Michael might be listening. She wasn't sure what, if anything, she was going to do about her mother's call, and she didn't want Michael showing up until she did.

Then an image of Lorrie slipped into her mind. Lorrie, smiling her sweet, innocent smile. She was still so innocent, really, despite the how tough things had been for her recently. Too innocent. So Sydney resolutely went to hunt down the elusive Michael to tell him about her mother's call.

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The phone call came around 6:45, and Lorrie was still upset by finding her father home waiting for her. He yelled for her to answer it, that he was busy.

"Fine," she shouted sharply, for her temper certainly matched that of her father. "Hello?" she snapped into the receiver.

"Lorrie." A pause. "Do you know me?"

Lorrie was scared, excited, and confused all at once. In the silence that followed, anger and utter terror also entered into the equation.

"Lorrie?"

Tears filled Lorrie's eyes, but she kept that from reflecting in her voice.

"You shouldn't have done this," she said, her voice eerily quiet, because she was afraid of her father overhearing her end of the conversation.

"But Lorrie, I want to talk to you. You already know about me, don't you?" she asked sadly.

"Damn right I do," Lorrie answered, her voice contrasting greatly with her emotions. Her tone, as well as her words, must have shocked her caller.

"Lorrie, I wish you wouldn't say that. A girl your age shouldn't use such language."

"Then why didn't you stick around and teach me not to?" Lorrie spit hatefully, with such force behind the words that she surprised herself.

"I couldn't. tell me, do you know about Sydney?"

Lorrie opened her mouth to say yes, but instead she said innocently, "My teacher?"

A relieved sigh reached her ears.

"I want to talk to you in person sometime, Lorrie."

Lorrie forced herself to be angry as she hung up the loudly humming phone. If she wasn't mad, she'd fall apart. She was scared. Terrified. She fled to her room as fast as she could.

"Who was it?" Taylor Miller called as she passed by his office."

"Nobody," Lorrie snapped.

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When Sydney found Michael, she quickly told him about her mother's call.

"And the school board won't let me off tomorrow. I have to go in," Sydney added.

Michael strongly suggested she call in sick, but she remained adamant. She'd learned that when he got irritated, as he was, it was simpler not to give up her position.

"I have to. What harm will it do, anyway?" Sydney asked as she left to check on Jaime, giving him no opportunity to argue.

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Lorrie was still scared. Hell, she was terrified. The woman had murdered someone, and now she wanted to see her! But she knew she couldn't show it. So, under her father's annoyingly watchful eye, she climbed boldly onto the school bus the morning after her mother's call, when all she really wanted to do was cower in her room. Or talk to Sydney.

She stared out of the bus window the entire ride, afraid that she'd see her mother wherever she turned.

Once in the school building, Lorrie forced herself to appear calm; if her mother was watching, a frazzled daughter would seem much easier to deal with than a calm one. She strolled down the halls, took her time at her locker, then walked toward Sydney's classroom. After checking that she was alone, Lorrie ducked into what had become her refuge and shut the door.

Then, and only then, did Lorrie let the fear show in her eyes, let her hands tremble with nervousness, let her legs carry her to be comforted.

Sydney was shocked to see Lorrie fall apart as she entered the room, and feared that their mother really had done what Sydney had prayed she wouldn't do: she'd contacted Lorrie. And Lorrie was so shaken that she just shook as the tears fell, never making a sound.

"Come on, Lorrie, calm down, you've got to tell me what happened," Sydney said finally.

"Mom…" Lorrie sniffed pitifully.

"She called you?"

Lorrie moved away and nodded.

"She called, and Dad yelled for me to answer the phone," she said flatly.

Sydney struggled to contain the panic rising in her throat and asked calmly, "What exactly did she ask you? Did you tell her anything?"

The anger sharpened Lorrie's eyes, and she subconsciously balled her hands into fists.

"I told her she was damn right I knew about her," Lorrie snapped, daring Sydney to correct her. When Sydney only looked mildly surprised, she continued, feeling guilty about snapping at Sydney when she was only trying to help. "She asked if I knew about you, and I played dumb. It just seemed like she didn't need to know everything that we know. Was I right?" she asked, returning to her timid demeanor.

"Yes," Sydney said encouragingly. "Did you tell her anything else? Anything she might could use?"

"She said…she said she wanted to talk to me again." The conversation was blurry in her mind now; she wasn't sure.

Sydney nodded. "Okay. I'm going to call Michael and find out what he wants us to do." Lorrie didn't look ready to be left alone; her eyes pleaded for Sydney to stay. "Are you coming?" Sydney added.

Lorrie nodded.

Sydney chose to use the phone in the teacher's lounge, and thankfully there was no one in there to hear her harried conversation.

When the phone was answered with an all business "hello" that would convince anyone trying to reach the Hechts that they'd gotten the wrong number, all Sydney said was, "She called Lorrie last night."

"God. What did Lorrie Blow?" Michael moaned.

"It could have been worse," Sydney said defensively. "Only that she knows about her mother. The woman doesn't know she understands our connection."

"Get away from the school. Come home, and I'll take you to the safe house," Michael pleaded.

"We're already here. If we suddenly leave now it'll tip someone off." She lowered her voice, conscious of Lorrie's ears. "Isn't it likely she's watching us?"

"It's possible," Michael moaned.

"Then what do you want us to do this afternoon? We'll leave then."

Michael sighed and put his hand to his head, where he could feel the beginnings of a headache.

"Come straight home. Tell Lorrie that as soon as she gets home, she's to get her bag and get over here. If her father is there again she'll have to sneak out. I'll talk to you when you get here."

With that, Michael hung up the phone and continued to rub his forehead.

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By the end of the day, Sydney and Lorrie were both wound up so tight that they felt ready to jump down the throat of the first thing that moved. Lorrie, somehow, managed to maintain her composure almost as well as her half-sister, and nobody could tell anything was amiss.

It would have been comical to se her jumping at every little noise, constantly looking over her shoulder, and scanning crowds for the feared face if she wasn't genuinely terrified.

Lorrie was only further agitated by finding her father waiting for her. Not only did his presence annoy her, but he also complicated her escape, which in itself scared her spitless.

She hadn't really expected him to continue meeting her. Thinking quickly, Lorrie stormed up into her room, slamming the door. For show, she continued to slam things around for several minutes. Then she fell silent and waited for the tell tale click that would inform her that her father had shut himself in his office. As soon as she heard it, she slid her duffle bag out from under her bed and slipped out the back door. As soon as she heard the almost silent sound of the door shutting, she breathed easier; the hardest part was over.

"Lorrie," a voice whispered behind her.

Lorrie screamed, but the sound was diminished to a sharp squeak as a strong hand clasped over her mouth and pulled her into the bushes lining the brink wall of the house, dragging her duffle bag with her.

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"Did you hear something?" Sydney asked anxiously.

Michael looked up at her from his saet on the couch while she paused in her pacing.

"No. And I wish you'd stop pacing, or at least be still," he added.

"I can't help worrying. I'm going to see what that was," Sydney said restlessly.

"I wish you wouldn't," Michael sighed, standing up and following her as she disappeared from the room. He felt strange about something, but he couldn't quite place it.

His anxiety seeming to grow with every step, Michael moved toward the door. Mere instinct forced him to stay out of view from the windows.

A scream pierced the air.

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Argh! What's going on? Hehehe…

I love cliff hangers, don't you?

Let me know what you think…More votes as to who should die won't hurt, either!