Title: Kith and Kin
Author : wannabe_syd
Feedback: Absolutely. This is my first fic and I'd appreciate any and all feedback! But please be gentle.
Distribution: Please let me know
Disclaimer: Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone, and is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions. My fic is merely a form of worship of their handiwork.
Summary: What if Sydney had never intercepted the Rambaldi manuscript? Sark Sark Sark. For the CD April challenge.
Rating: G
Classification: A/U
Notes: Big shout-out to Robin, for lots of feedback and encouragement on very short notice! And to Nicole, who first inspired me.
Chapter 2
The discordant whirring of the telephone woke her from a restless sleep.
"Mrs. Sark? We have a situation at the lab."
"I'll be right there."
* * *
Less than an hour later she was behind her desk, chilled from the rain and trying not to yawn.
"You wanted to see this as soon as we cracked the code."
"I'm aware of that, Declan," she snapped. "So where is it? And where's Colin?"
"I believe he's sleeping in the lounge, ma'am. He was a great help to us tonight."
She nodded. "Fine. Let him rest. And the text…?"
"Right here." He lay a sheet of paper on the desk in front of her.
She didn't even glance at it. "Thank you, that will be all. There's no need for you to come in tomorrow, but please be available if I page you."
"Thank you, Mrs. Sark."
She waited until he had left before lowering her tired eyes to the innocuous page.
* * *
"This coffee tastes horrible. I thought you knew the way I liked it. Now go get me a new cup and make it quick." Sark thrust his cup at a cowering Rita.
"I-I-I'm so sorry," she stuttered. "I'll get it straight away."
But he had already moved on, ignoring her apologies, and was knocking impatiently on Mrs. Sark's office door. Hearing her response, he entered.
"Sure I know how you like it," Rita muttered at the closed door. "You'd prefer it to be stirred with the forked tongue of the Devil himself!" She took a hesitant sip, and grimaced. "Well, in fairness, that is rather nasty."
On the other side of the door, Sark controlled his impatience, watching his mother stare at the already dog-eared sheet and waiting for her to speak.
Finally, she looked up at him. "I suppose you've read it?"
"Yes, I helped decode it."
She recited the text from memory. "In the hands of this woman lies the future that I have envisioned. She will possess the power to wield my legacy, should her path run true. But the way is Daedalian, and a multitude of roads find the bloody centre."
The words faded into silence. But the hush was quickly dispelled when Sark replied briskly, "I know what it says. What I don't know is who this woman is. Yesterday you told me she's my sister and you've left me hanging since then."
She sighed. "Yes, I know. But I needed to sort out her role before I could fill you in." Her voice hardened. "Not everything in my life is yours to inspect."
"I think it's fairly clear that she's a part of this," he answered calmly, ignoring her rebuke.
Her eyes slid away from his face to the only other item on her desk. She'd turned the printout that Jean had given her face down. But the paper may as well have been transparent for all that it shielded her from the image of her daughter. She was shaken more than she could admit, even to herself.
"Yes, it is," she agreed. "And I'll tell you as much as you need to know. Have a seat."
She closed her eyes as Sark pulled a chair over from the conference table and sat across from her. Wearily, she rested her elbows on the table and rubbed her temples, trying to collect her thoughts.
"I left Sydney when she was only two years old," she began. "It was the most difficult thing I've ever done, but I couldn't let her tie me down. I had found out about Rambaldi and my connection to him, and I became obsessed. I knew that I wouldn't be able to pursue my obsession freely with my husband and daughter in my life. So I ran. Eventually I ended up here, where your father provided me with the cover and the capital that I needed. I started quietly collecting Rambaldi artifacts, slowly putting together the puzzle…" She broke off, realizing that she had successfully avoided the subject that she'd grown so good at forgetting.
With a deep breath, she plunged back in. "I have a few pictures of Sydney. I had a man trail her once, when she was seven, and get a photo. But I thought her father was suspicious and I couldn't take the risk again. I have a copy of her high school graduation photo that was in the local paper, and her college volleyball team photo. I know it's not much, but I'm certain that drawing is of her. You don't know how much I wish it weren't, but it is." She slumped back in her chair, exhausted.
"Of course we'll need to make sure of that first."
She nodded. "You're right to be skeptical. But it does make sense, after all."
He shrugged. "Well, let's assume that it is Sydney. How do you propose we bring her in?"
She sat up. "Hold on a minute. I haven't proposed anything of the sort. I'm not sure we should involve her."
"What? It's right there." He pointed at the paper that she still held. " 'In the hands of this woman lies the future that I have envisioned.' Pretty bloody obvious that we need her, since the whole point is to figure out Rambaldi's master plan, right?"
She shook her head. "It's not that simple. How do we know that the future that he envisioned is the one we want?"
Exasperated, Sark threw up his hands. "Isn't that exactly what we want? Are you telling me that you're getting cold feet after all this time?"
"No! I'm just being cautious. And things have changed. Yes, I've been trying to piece together Rambaldi's vision, but it's a different thing altogether to have it come to pass without knowing what it is. We can't let this spiral out of our control."
"I understand. But I think you need to accept that it isn't in our control – it's never been. We just didn't know it until now."
Easy for him to say. This was just a job to him. "I can't accept that. Prophecies are slippery things, and if we base our actions on what we think it means, we may just end up in the 'bloody centre.' "
"Maybe, but it's 'in her hands,' there's no two ways about that. If it doesn't happen with her, it doesn't happen at all. Is that what you want?"
Was that what she wanted? To have wasted 25 years of her life in pursuit of a future that would never happen? Did she hate that more than she hated the idea of that future slipping out of her command?
"Find her."
The bitterness was so thick that she could taste it, like blood on her tongue. Her life's work, pointless. Her ignorant daughter would be the one to inherit the earth. She could almost hear Rambaldi chuckling in his lost grave. But words are just words, despite their magic, and she was a magician in her own right. After all, she knew how to vanish.