Author's Note: Yay, I made it to 100+ reviews.  Thanks so much for taking the time to read my fic and I hope it's keeping you all interested enough to wait for more.  Another long chapter ahead with a little more backstory that leads into some plot development.

Let me know what you think.

P.S. to Corinne: I'm not a fan of Penelope Cruz, either (I can't stand her voice), but hey, Vaughn has to have some flaws, doesn't he?  (On second thought, maybe he doesn't because he's just so perfect to look at, but oh well…)

See ya later!

*     *     *     *     *

A strange kind of status quo settled over the house for the next few days. Irina made no move to hurry Vaughn along in his recovery process, she didn't seem overly concerned in obtaining an oath of loyalty from him and instead appeared more interested in her daughter's blossoming relationship with her young man. Sydney and Vaughn were obviously glad for the time they were getting to spend together (so much so that they hardly gave a thought to anything else), but Sark was obnoxiously impatient about the whole waiting game and wondered when his mother would stop playing prospective mother-of –the-bride and get back to their business at hand.

Although they had known each other for the better part of a year, Sydney's and Vaughn's budding love affair was still in a very new and fragile state. They knew things about each other that their very closest friends couldn't even begin to guess about, but the simple yet complex act of falling in love brought an entirely new dimension to their already intense relationship. Sydney was a bit apprehensive as to how things would progress between her and Vaughn now that they had said "I love you" to one another. He knew her as well as anyone ever did; she knew only bits and pieces about him.

So they spent their time together filling in the blanks. She was the one to listen to him talk for a change, so she got to learn all sorts of little tidbits about him, such as the fact that he had braces as a kid (which accounted for the heart-stopping smile), his favorite Beatle was George (he could identify with the shy one) and he always remembered his mother on her birthday and Mother's Day (very sweet).

Another interesting quirk Sydney found out about Vaughn--regarding an aspect of his personality she had never even known existed--was that he had a rather playful sense of humor and he displayed it to her with a comfortable ease that thrilled her. He, who had always been so consciously reserved around her when they were still agent and handler was a virtual tiger with her now that they were a couple. She adored kissing and being kissed by him, every brush of his lips and each caress of his hand igniting a fire deep within her. Sometimes her desire for him--to be with him in every sense of the word--was so intense she couldn't stand it and it created an ache inside of her that she could feel right down to her soul.

Sydney desperately wanted to make love with Vaughn and he made no secret of the fact that he wanted to do the same (he was deliciously evil at trying to tempt her), but so far she was resisting, albeit with her head and not with her heart.

Sydney wanted their first time to be special. After everything they had gone through, she didn't think that was too much to ask. When she and Vaughn made love for the first time, she wanted it to be only about them and them alone.

And that was why it couldn't happen here, in this place that felt like a prison to her. True, it was a very plush and posh prison, but a prison nonetheless. Not even taking into consideration the armed guards who kept up a constant patrol along the grounds, she also had to deal with her two prison wardens, Irina and Sark.

Irina was the watcher. Sydney felt her mother's eyes on her all the time, constantly studying and scrutinizing her daughter with a wary look on her face. She always got the feeling that Irina was very tightly coiled, ready to spring in a moment's notice if Sydney suddenly bolted from the room and ran out the front door. So she purposely made sure to always seem very relaxed and contented around her mother. If Irina thought she was settling in to her new environment, maybe she would let down her guard and then Sydney could bolt.

Sark's surveillance technique was not as oppressive as Irina's, but he was still a pain in the neck. Whenever they were in the same room together, they were always bickering and sniping at each other. She actually didn't mind the arguing so much; at least he gave as good as he got and he could be amusing at times. Sydney had discovered that her brother was notoriously possessive of their mother and didn't like the fact that Irina was going out of her way to get back into her daughter's good graces at the expense of ignoring him. Sydney took advantage of his jealousy by taunting him with it every chance she got.

When she told Vaughn her reasons for wanting to wait, he was completely understanding about the whole thing because he felt the same way. He and Sydney knew the phones were bugged (which is why they went out of their way to never even go near a phone) and it stood to reason that their rooms were probably wired for video as well. He wasn't a prude by any means, but just the thought of exposing his and Sydney's private moments to her mother and her brother and all of their minions (because he knew Sark would somehow find a way to mass-produce the tapes just to be evil) was enough to turn him off completely, although he did have fun trying to get her to do everything but.

During each of their first five days as a "happy" reunited family, Irina forced Sydney into doing some intense bonding sessions with her. She wanted to know about everything that had happened in Sydney's life ever since she'd left it and since that was a fairly lengthy number of years, sometimes she kept Sydney talking for up to two or three hours at a time.

Sydney was resentful at having to recount her entire life history to Irina (if she cared so much, she shouldn't have left) although she never showed it outwardly. Playing her part of the slowly thawing daughter to the hilt, Sydney conned Irina into believing that she was quite enthusiastic about telling her exceedingly interested mother all about her childhood, her schooling, her friends. She talked endlessly about Francie and Will and Danny and Vaughn with Irina hanging on every word.

But after five days of spewing everything there was to know about her life, Sydney decided it was time her mother did some of the talking.

They were in the library, just the two of them. Vaughn was resting (he still wasn't completely over his near-death experience) and Sark was off somewhere sulking. Irina and Sydney were sharing a pot of Japanese green tea while seated in their usual spots, Sydney curled up on the sofa with her feet tucked under her and Irina in the wing chair, her legs crossed in a ladylike fashion.

As soon as Irina handed her the bone china teacup, Sydney spoke up. "Mom, do you mind if we not talk about me today?"

Irina flushed, suddenly realizing that Sydney must be feeling overwhelmed by her endless barrage of questions about her life. She was trying too hard, trying to pack twenty-two years of missing out on every important event that had happened in her daughter's life into five short days. "I'm sorry, Sydney, I just didn't think." Her mother apologized.

"Oh, I don't mind talking about myself." Sydney said to reassure her. "I just thought you could return the favor."

Irina looked surprised but pleased. "You want to find out about me?"

"Why does that surprise you?" Sydney took a sip of her tea.

"I didn't think you cared." Her mother admitted.

"There's a lot about you that I don't know, Mom." Sydney pretended to be hesitant. "I don't know if you want to share it with me--"

"What do you want to know, Sydney?" Her mother gave her an introspective look.

It was almost too easy. "Is Sark really your son?" She asked.

"Of course he is." Irina looked puzzled. "Why would I lie about such a thing?" Her tone was faintly defensive.

"I didn't mean to imply that you would." Sydney replied hastily. "It was just a big shock to me when I found out and I didn't believe him at first."

Irina lowered her gaze. "Well, it is true. That is not something I would lie about."

No, you'd lie about everything else but not about your precious son. "And Sloane really is--" Even now she couldn't say it.

"--his father." Irina finished Sydney's statement for her. "I suppose you must think very badly of me right now." She said, her tone slightly defiant as if she were preparing to go into battle.

"Why would you think that?" She was very careful to keep a judgmental tone out of her voice and that caught her mother off-guard.

"I had an affair with another man while I was still married to your father." She pointed out unnecessarily.

"The marriage wasn't real, so why should you have respected your wedding vows?" Sydney shrugged, her casual attitude a façade for how she really felt. In truth, she was sickened, not only by her mother's betrayal of her father, but also by the fact that she had slept with the vilest of men, Arvin Sloane. It was enough to turn her stomach inside out.

A few moments of tense silence filled the air between them. Sydney had to force herself to speak again, reminding herself over and over that winning Irina's trust was her and Vaughn's ticket to freedom.

"Mom?" The word no longer fell as naturally from her lips as it did when she was a child and it took an actual effort to remember to say it out loud from time to time. The feelings behind the moniker were simply buried too deep and Sydney wasn't sure if they could ever be unearthed from within her.

"Yes, Sydney?"

"What was the reason for your affair?" She asked in a neutral tone. "Did you…have feelings for him?" Just saying those words left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Irina looked at her for a long moment and then let out a peal of harsh-sounding laughter. "Oh, Sydney, please don't think I wanted to have anything to do with that man! It made me physically ill every time he touched me."

"But you still went through with it." Sydney purposely made herself sound curious rather than condemning. Irina had to believe she was empathizing with her, not being disgusted by her.

"Those were my orders." Irina said simply. "Your father was becoming mistrustful of me, I think. He was not so careless about leaving his briefcase or his files lying around where I could get into them."

"So my superiors came up with a plan for me to obtain classified information from another source. We knew Arvin was with SD-6 at that point, but because of his background, he was still deeply involved in the funneling of confidential data between the CIA and SD-6."

Sydney gave her a look of surprise. "SD-6 had a mole in the CIA?"

"For awhile." Irina nodded. "Unfortunately, the man came to an untimely demise and as far as I know, they've never attempted to have another agent infiltrate the agency."

"So your affair with Sloane was for informational purposes only." Sydney said slowly, placing her cup and saucer on the table before she could be tempted to throw them across the room in a fit of anger. To think that her mother could be so cold and calculating was frightening to her. After all, everyone always said how alike they were…

"The SD-6 mole reported directly to Arvin, so he was privy to all sorts of valuable material." Irina laughed derisively. "Poor Arvin! He actually believed I was attracted to him. As if I ever could have been tempted by that weasel!" She scoffed.

"He never suspected what your true motives were?"

"I was a very conscientious agent, Sydney." Her mother informed her haughtily. "Arvin and I never met in either of our homes, only in a hotel room. I always arrived first and I always made sure there was a bottle of scotch waiting for him."

The truth dawned. "You tampered with his drinks." Sydney said flatly.

"So he never caught me." Irina gave a careless shrug.

"Okay, so you've told me your reason." She paused. "What was his? I thought he loved Emily."

"Oh, he does." Irina nodded. "He thinks she is the most perfect creature God ever put on this earth." Her expression turned to one of distaste. "And I suppose she must be if she could love a man like him."

"Then why would he cheat on her? It doesn't make sense."

Irina gave her a brief smile. "Perhaps you would grasp it better if you understood how eaten away Arvin is by the jealousy he feels towards your father."

Sydney frowned. "What reason does he have to be jealous of Dad?"

"Arvin and your father both came to the Los Angeles branch of the CIA around the same time." Her mother began. "They were assigned to the same division and they were both designated as field agents."

"That was Arvin's dream job." Irina went on. "He always envisioned himself as the James Bond type, the kind of man who could charm his way out of any situation and who always got what he came for."

Sydney couldn't help but snicker. "Yeah, right."

"Unfortunately, things did not work out the way he wanted. Arvin was disastrous in the field. He has a great analytical mind and is a brilliant tactician, but back then, he was quite useless when it came to making snap decisions in crucial situations." Irina said callously. "About six months after he started, they transferred him back to Headquarters and assigned him to a desk job."

"That must have stung." Sydney felt a slight pang of compassion for the man in spite of herself. To be forced to give up on a lifelong dream because you just weren't good enough had to be a tough pill to swallow.

"Well, it certainly didn't help matters that your father flourished as a field operative. He was quite the fair-haired boy in those days and he rose quickly through the ranks." Her mother told her. "And to add insult to injury, everyone started calling him 'James Bond' or 'J.B.' because they coincidentally had the same initials."

"And I bet that drove Sloane crazy."

"He was not happy." Irina shook her head. "Oh, he pretended to Jack's face that he was thrilled for all of his success, but I'm sure he was seething inside. Even though Arvin himself was also promoted to a fairly high-ranking position during the same time period, it always rankled him that your father was the Golden Boy. The animosity he felt became even greater when he found out I was pregnant with you."

"He and Emily never had any children, you know." Sydney interjected.

"Yes." She acknowledged. "And that was just one more thing Jack did better than him."

"So are you telling me that his motivation for the affair with you was purely out of spite towards Dad?" Sydney couldn't believe anyone could be so petty, but then she realized she was talking about the Devil Incarnate here.

"Arvin never questioned why I initiated the affair." Irina smirked. "He probably thought I wasn't being…properly fulfilled what with your father always being away." She said delicately. "So he was more than happy to help out in Jack's absence."

"Yeah, he has a habit of doing that." Sydney mused, thinking about all the times Sloane had filled in for Jack in her own life. And she had let him, because she hadn't known any better.

A question was still gnawing at her brain. "What about your pregnancy?" Sydney asked, her tone slightly accusatory. "You were supposed to be such a competent agent. How could you let that happen?"

"Nothing is foolproof, Sydney." Irina replied evenly. "Even though we took every precaution, sometimes things happen that are beyond your control."

"Getting pregnant was certainly not something I wanted to have happen nor was it part of some grand Machiavellian scheme to pit Arvin against your father." Her mother gazed at her with a stoic expression on her face. "Tragically, it became one of the reasons why I had to leave."

"I don't understand." She looked confused. "They let you have me."

"I was in a different place when I became pregnant the second time." Irina said vaguely. "For one thing, I never could have explained the pregnancy to Jack. He's a smart man and he would have done the math."

A light bulb went on in Sydney's head. "Are you saying there was no possible way he could have been the father?"

"No," She shook her head. "He was away on assignment in South America. Do you remember that last time he left, Sydney? We drove him to the airport and you waved to him as the plane took off, actually believing that he could see you and was waving back at you." Irina smiled at Sydney's silly childhood notions.

"I remember doing that a lot, actually." Sydney said thoughtfully.

"That was an undercover assignment in Colombia." Irina replied. "The week I disappeared was the first time I'd seen him in over two months."

Sydney became subdued. "So you couldn't tell him about the pregnancy because then it would have come out about the affair."

"Yes, and it would have raised a few red flags in your father's mind about my reasons for having the affair considering that I had never made my distaste for Arvin a secret." Her mother let out a sigh. "Even if I could have explained it away by saying I felt lonely and abandoned, I never could have explained why I had chosen Arvin."

"So you see, Sydney," Irina gave her a beseeching look. "My leaving your father wasn't so much about wanting to hurt him as it was about trying to protect him from getting hurt."

Oh, she did not just say that to me! Sydney fumed silently to herself. She couldn't be so delusional as to believe I'd actually fall for that lame excuse!

Irina was watching her again, with that same guarded look on her face as if she was just waiting for Sydney to vehemently denounce her mother's contemptible actions. So Sydney did what any dutiful daughter would do in that situation; she lied through her teeth.

"You were in a very difficult position." Sydney said carefully, trying to impart just the right note of sincerity and compassion. She did not want to come across as some sort of sycophant, saying only what she thought Irina wanted to hear. Even if that were the case, she didn't want the thought to even tiptoe across Irina's mind.

Irina gave her a speculative look. "I thought you would hate me for betraying your father. Especially with a man you despise."

"I know what it's like to be put in a no-win situation." She said quietly. "You're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't."

"Our lives have paralleled a great deal, haven't they, Sydney?" Irina said softly. "I never realized how much."

Sydney didn't know how to respond to that, so she just kept quiet, letting Irina think she was merely contemplating the profundity of her mother's statement. In reality, Sydney was dying to get out of there. This game of True Confessions was getting to be too much to handle and she felt as if the walls were closing in on her. On top of that, her stomach was feeling unsettled and she thought it would be good idea if she put something in it.

"Are you hungry?" Irina suddenly jumped up, startling Sydney into wondering if she could read minds. "Let's go to the kitchen and I'll make us something to eat."

"You're going to cook?" Sydney couldn't keep the surprised look from her face.

Irina's mouth curved amusedly. "I do know how to cook, Sydney."

"I know you do, but when was the last time you did?"

"So it's been awhile." Irina shrugged nonchalantly. "I bet I can still make your favorite lunch." Her mother suddenly grinned and it eased the tension in her face considerably.

"Grilled ham and swiss cheese?" The fat content was astronomical, but she'd eat every bite with a satisfied smile on her face if it meant she was one step closer to gaining Irina's trust.

"Of course," Her mother replied blithely. "But I must warn you that I don't have any of those rubbery processed cheese squares you loved when you were a child. This will be real Swiss cheese with actual holes."

Sydney let out an actual laugh at her mother's attempt for humor. "I think I'll be able to choke it down." She deadpanned.

Irina's kitchen was a gourmet's dream. Twin stainless steel sub-zero refrigerators were placed along the short wall surrounded by a number of oak-stained glass-fronted cabinets. A huge range with six gas burners and a double oven took center stage along the back wall with various appliances ranging from a professional Kitchenaid mixer to a retro-style seafoam green toaster that Sydney remembered seeing in a Williams-Sonoma catalog arranged in a neat row on the wide butcher block countertops that were on either side of the stove. A large rectangular kitchen island with a cool marble surface sat in the middle of the room, providing for lots of drawer and storage space as well as serving as an informal dining area. Sydney had also heard Sark bragging at one time or another about the fully stocked wine cellar in the basement. Say what you will about Irina, but the woman definitely knew how to enjoy the finer things in life.

Irina selected a gleaming copper pan from a rack over the kitchen island and set it on the stove, lighting the burner before she went over to the refrigerator. Sydney took a seat and watched as her mother rooted around for her ingredients.

"I don't suppose you would want prosciutto and Swiss cheese, would you?" Irina glanced at her.

Sydney was quite fond of the thinly sliced Italian ham, but this was supposed to be about re-creating a moment from her childhood. "No, Mom." She said firmly. "Don't you have Oscar Mayer?"

"Bite your tongue, Sydney." Irina scolded and stuck her head back into the refrigerator. She finally emerged with a package of Black Forest ham the cook had sliced by hand the day before as well as a block of Swiss cheese. Also balanced in her arms was a stoneware crock of butter along with a pre-washed bag of salad makings.

"Might as well try to balance out the fat and cholesterol with some healthy greens." Irina gave her the bag of lettuce. "Would you toss the salad, Sydney?"

"Sure." She got up off her stool and went over to one of the cabinets to take out a wooden salad bowl. After dumping the lettuce into the bowl, she found a measuring cup and proceeded to make a vinaigrette with olive oil and red wine vinegar while Irina busied herself with buttering slices of freshly baked bread to toast.

A few minutes later, Irina was depositing a perfectly grilled ham and Swiss cheese sandwich onto her plate, both sides of the bread toasty and golden-brown, the cheese oozing out from the sides. Just like when she was a kid.

At that moment, Sark strolled into the kitchen, surprised to see his mother and sister talking and laughing with each other. His eyes narrowed as he took in the quaintly domestic scene.

"Well, what is going on here?" He asked with a false exuberance.

"Sydney and I are having a snack, Sergei." Irina announced cheerfully. "Would you like to join us?"

Sark openly gaped at his mother. "I can't believe you actually got Mother to cook." He looked at Sydney with an unreadable expression in his eyes. Inside he was extremely upset. This situation was quickly spinning out of his control. "I can't even get her to scramble an egg for me."

"Well, maybe she just likes me best." Sydney taunted Sark sweetly. He glared at her behind their mother's back.

"Now, Sydney, don't tease your brother." Irina scolded. "Sergei knows I don't play favorites. He's exaggerating, anyway. Don't I always make your favorite borscht when you are sick?"

"Not for a very long time, Mother." His voice was hard, unyielding. Sark turned on his heel without a word and stalked from the room.

*     *     *     *     *

He needed a drink. So what if it wasn't his first or second or even his fifth of the day?

Sark had his sights set on the bar as he strode purposefully into the game room and he realized too late that he wasn't alone. He cut his eyes over to the right and his lip curled. Big Sister's Lover Boy was already there, relaxing on the leather sofa, reading a book. Vaughn looked up with an interested expression on his face as he watched Sark head straight for the bar without even an acknowledgment of his presence in the room.

"Can I help you?" Sark barked at Vaughn, an acid quality in his voice as he went behind the bar. He hated when people stared at him.

Vaughn immediately picked up on the hostility emanating from the younger man. "What's the matter, Sark?" He stood up and put his book on the table before going over to the bar. "You look upset." He watched as Sark took a healthy swig of his drink before answering.

Sark eyed him with undisguised resentment. "Look, I already have a Big Sister I didn't ask for. Don't try to become the Big Brother I never wanted."

"It was just a simple question." Vaughn put his hands up as if to deflect Sark's wrath. "Hand me a beer, will you?" He settled onto a stool, thinking to himself how he could work the situation.

Sark gave a sigh as if it were a great chore for him to open the refrigerator door and take out a bottle of beer. "All we have is imported. Nothing American." He added, a note of derision in his voice.

"Whatever you have is fine." Vaughn said placidly. Sark rolled his eyes and selected a Molson's for him. He even graciously removed the cap before handing it to him.

"Thanks." Vaughn accepted the bottle and put it to his lips.

Sark was looking at him with a sour expression on his face. "How do you really feel about being kept here?"

"Being kept?" Vaughn repeated thoughtfully. "You mean like a prisoner?"

"That's what you are, aren't you, even though everyone is so polite about not calling it that." Sark said caustically. "The way I see it, if we're holding you against your will, then you are a prisoner."

"Well, that's where your theory falls apart." Vaughn replied. "You're assuming I want to leave."

"Don't you?" Sark raised an eyebrow. "It can't be easy for you to turn your back on your country and the life you had before all this happened."

"My work for the government was very important to me," Vaughn acknowledged. "But Sydney supersedes all of it. I would never give her up for the chance to go back to my life the way it was before."

"She means that much to you." He said as a statement of fact, more than a question.

"She means everything." Vaughn said seriously.

"How touching." Sark said with a sneer. "I guess that explains why you did what you did." He said cryptically, swallowing another large gulp of his vodka on the rocks.

"Give me a clue as to what you're talking about."

Sark's lips twisted. "Let's not play games anymore, shall we?" He said crisply.  "Denpasar. You were the agent who captured me and handcuffed me to the gate."

Vaughn saw no further reason to deny it, so he didn't. "That's right."

"And then you left me and I was appropriated by the SD-6 agents."

"Right again."

"Did you leave because Sydney was in trouble?" Sark looked curious. "Isn't it against your CIA protocol to abandon a prisoner before he has been secured?"

"I did make the mistake of leaving you before you were sufficiently contained." Vaughn admitted. "But I would make that choice again in a heartbeat if it meant saving Sydney from harm."

"And is she so much more valuable to your agency than I am?" Sark said mockingly. "I'm hurt."

"You have no idea how valuable she is." Vaughn said quietly. "But I have feeling your mother does." He prepared to twist the screws a little tighter.

Sark fixed an icy glare at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, Sydney has told me how close she and Irina are becoming again." Vaughn said casually. "It's almost as if they were never separated."

Sark gave him a blank look. "I still fail to see your point." He said impatiently as he refilled his glass.

Vaughn gave him a knowing look. "Come on, Sark, Irina told Sydney that her driving force behind becoming The Man and building her powerbase was because she always envisioned Sydney as being a part of all of it." He zeroed in for the kill. "Don't you feel threatened by the fact that Irina has placed so many of her hopes and dreams on Sydney and not on you?"

"We are not in any sort of competition for Irina's affections." Sark was saying all the appropriate words but Vaughn saw the muscle in his jaw twitching. He was definitely bothered.

"No, I don't think your mother consciously plays favorites with her children in her personal life." Vaughn coolly slipped in a little dig in regard to Irina's obvious attempts to win Sydney over at the expense of her relationship with Sark.

"But let me ask you something, Sark," He paused. "When the time comes for Irina to choose a successor to her throne, who do you think will be first in line?" Vaughn asked softly.

Sark's blue eyes became glacial. "Mother has always said that I would take over the organization once she decides to step down." He said stoically.

"But that was before Sydney came back into her life." Vaughn stood up and gave Sark a pitying look, which enraged the younger man. "It seems to me that this is a classic case of primogeniture, kid. You know, the firstborn shall inherit the earth and the second-born gets the shaft?" He let out an amused chuckle and then left the room, knowing he was leaving Sark to stew in his own juices.

That's what you think, Sark fumed silently. Big Sister is in for a rude awakening if she thinks she can just waltz back into Mother's life and take what was promised to me. I will never let that happen, he vowed. Sydney will not have what is supposed to be mine.

All of a sudden, Sark felt a stab of pain and when he came out of his reverie, he found the crystal tumbler had shattered in his clenched fist. He opened his hand, the broken pieces of glass slipping heedlessly from his grasp, and watched in an almost trancelike fascination as the multitude of cuts he had suffered slowly created a myriad of red droplets on the palm of his hand. He stared at the slivers of glass embedded within his flesh, his blood running in rivulets over and around the tiny shards, and wondered to himself if Sydney's blood was just as red and if it would flow just as freely.

To be continued…