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Sydney awoke to the sound of a door closing. She jerked her head to the side, causing the dull ache there to worsen into a loud pounding, accompanied by a wave of dizziness. "Vaughn," she thought with panic, but then pushed the disturbing thought from her mind. She closed her eyes again and listened to the silence of the room around her. Someone was there. She could feel their presence, and a warning tingle shot down the back of her neck.
Her senses were coming back to her now, and she could feel that she was lying on a bed. It was soft and warm, and she had to resist the urge to roll over and bury her face in a pillow. The room smelled like some kind of flower. Gardenia, maybe? She inhaled twice, then decided she was well enough to open her eyes. She did so in the direction of her noiseless visitor, and was shocked at what she found. Then she remembered what had happened. She tested her voice, "Where am I?"
"My home," the visitor answered. "One of the four I own on this continent."
"Which continent would that be?" Sydney asked, having no idea how long she had been unconscious, or how far they had traveled.
"One of the bigger ones."
"Can we not play games?" Sydney asked, disdain dripping from every syllable. Irina didn't respond. "I have questions for you," she told her mother. "And I want answers."
"I will answer your questions now, as best I can. You have waited long enough," and with that, Irina Derevko sat down on the end of the bed, awaiting the first question.
Sydney sat up, staring at the woman she had loved so very much as a child. The same woman who had caused her so very much pain and sadness, was now willing to answer any question she could think up. Sydney had imagined this moment a million and a half times, in a million and a half different ways, but nothing could have prepared her for the raw emotion she was trying so desperately to keep in now. Up until the past few months, when she had finally learned her mother's true identity, she had never once thought about having to hide her tears from her loving, charming, perfect mother. But now, sitting two feet away from the woman, she felt as though she didn't know her at all, and didn't know how she would negotiate this situation without bursting into tears at some point. Irina sat patiently, almost kindly, and waited for Sydney to be ready for this talk. "She really is an excellent actress," Sydney thought, and narrowed her eyes.
Irina caught this and said, "Whatever it is that you are thinking, tell me." And then thought for a moment before adding, "I have waited so long to hear your voice, to see your beautiful face, and I have been anxious to hear your thoughts." She averted her eyes for only a second, then regained composure again.
Sydney was drawing a blank. She couldn't think of one question to ask the lying, conniving, deceitful, vicious Irina. All of the questions she had memorized since childhood were reserved for the compassionate, gentle, intelligent Laura. At this realization, Sydney's breath caught in her throat, and she could barely hold back the tears threatening to overflow from her welling eyes, as she grieved for the mother she had lost, yet had never really had to begin with.
Irina watched as her only daughter choked back tears, and for the first time in decades, she wished she had the ability to cry. She had perfected the talent of hiding her feelings so well over the years, she feared she had stopped having them altogether. She seldom thought about the years she had spent as a loyal wife and loving mother. She banished all thoughts of that happiness from her mind, and vowed to become a new, improved Irina: the kind of agent that would be strong enough not to let petty things like passion and hope distract her.
Suddenly, a beeper clipped to Irina's belt went off. She gasped slightly, and looked down to read the 911 number. "I'm sorry Sydney, but I have to take this." She got up and moved toward the door, not looking back at her daughter's face, but feeling quite relieved at the momentary distraction. "Maybe there is a god," she thought, and left the room.