Chapter 15 -
The drive home from the airport seemed to fly by. Most times, this same ride was spent rehearsing what she was going to say to Sloane if the mission failed due to the CIA's interception. This time, the failure was true, and no explanation was needed. Given that, she allowed her thoughts to venture back to last night. Just thinking about it made her stomach flop, along with a few tingles in some unnamed areas. It was going to be hard to face him in the office without wanting to picture what she had seen underneath those expensive, perfectly tailored suits.
The thought still made her blush. With her mind elsewhere, it was a good thing she's frequently here. She had driven this route so many times that once she hit the Interstate, autopilot kicked in and lead her the rest of the way home. It was quite dangerous, but it's another thing she had perfected. Still in deep thought, she jumped at the sound of her CIA cell phone ringing. After fumbling with her earpiece, she situated it in her ear.
"Bristow."
"Agent Bristow," the voice was at first unrecognizable, but after a moment it registered. "We were hoping you could swing by once you've had a chance to settle in."
Having only met her new handler a handful of times, she still had yet to get his tones or actions right. Reading new people was something she had a talent for, but only after the first stages of awkwardness had waned.
"I need a new way to access, I sprained my ankle in Prague." Sydney informed him.
"Fine, I'll get back to you in five." Benedict ended the call. The middle-aged man was friendly and professional. So different than her previous, but exactly what she had requested. She kept the earpiece in her ear for the follow-up call.
After an extra long detour, Sydney was safe inside the CIA. She finished her conversation with Benedict over twenty minutes ago, and was now making the same walk she made before she left for Prague. For some reason, it had been decided that she should talk to her mother again. The CIA was interested in making a preemptive strike against SD-6 accessing the Echelon, and in the process, shutting down the access Cuvee had.
Still using the cane given to her by Sark, she limped the rest of the way to Irina's cell. A look of concern washed over her mother's face, at first sight of her daughter. Still feeling the elation over all that she went through, she faced her mother with a legitimate smile.
"Hi." Sydney greeted her mom. Her initial demeanor was so different from the last time she had been here.
Noticing the change, Irina cautiously smiled in return. "From the look on your face, I take it the job in Prague was a success."
Sydney looked down at her shoes for a moment, then back up at her mother. "No, it wasn't. We need your help."
Ignoring her, Irina asked her own questions. "Were you shot?"
"Oh, no. It's just a sprained ankle." Sydney paused while translating the look in her mother's eye. "I was interrupted before I could get to the computer."
"Sark."
Her single accusation choked Sydney. Again she said just his name. The deduction that the failure had to do with Sark came straight out of left field. Her attempt at covering up her reaction was weak. Completely blindsided, she reminded herself to breathe deeply and do it now.
Forcing the words, she stammered, "Wh-… no." Sydney's eyes broke contact, showing she was uncomfortable.
Breathe
"I'm supposed to talk to you about the layout of Cuvee's warehouse, where his access is stored." Sydney finally gathered enough thought to form a sentence.
She looked at her mom, and found a changed in her look. She must have seen something in her daughter, something that she probably never would have discovered, unless a moment like this took place. Irina turned her back to Sydney and walked to the single chair in her room.
"Have someone bring me the tools and I'll map the access," the coldness in her voice was evident.
Not wanting to compromise herself further, Sydney turned to leave. At the sound of her cane accidentally hitting the glass, Irina turned to look at her again. If she was not mistaken, Sydney saw a look of disappointment flash in her mother's eye, a look that caused her heart rate to skyrocket.
She can't know. There's no way.
Noting it, Sydney made her exit. "Thank you for the information." She finished her walk to the secured door. Before she exited, Sydney heard her mother call out.
"Sydney, please be careful."
Sydney stopped, only a moment for the door to open. Keeping her attention forward, she left her mother, without looking back.
Home sweet home. Finally, the chance to actually relax in the comfort of her collected surroundings. First thing, she threw her sweat suit jacket on the dining room chair, leaving her in just a thin-strapped tank top. She limped into her kitchen, heading straight over to the freezer, and the ice her ankle had been crying for. After filling up a large bag, Sydney walked over to plop herself on the couch.
Her couch was just as comfortable as she remembered, and once she was situated, she released a heavy sigh. She always felt tense after visiting her mother, but this time it was more so. Implying Sark had something to do with their failed mission, something to do with Dixon being shot? It couldn't be true.
What motivation would he have for this? He made the same effort on this as everyone at SD-6 did, if not more. Sloane's trust was something that he seemed to want to gain, not lose. All of this doubt surfacing after one word spoken by her mother. Lost in her own confusion, and not expecting either roommate home for a few more hours, she didn't hear her front door open. Why did she allow her mother to stress her out to a certain degree, each time she visited her.
"Sydney Bristow!"
Hearing Francie's voice, Sydney instantly opened her eyes, indeed finding her roommate hovering over her.
"What the hell happened to your ankle?" Her concern was clear by the shriek of her voice.
Keeping her leg elevated, she used her elbows to sit up a bit more. "I fell down the stairs of my hotel. You wouldn't believe how embarrassing it was."
Francie crossed her arms across her chest, and her face gradually became more animated. "Really? Well, what about the poor cover-up job on that huge war wound on your neck? Did you also get that falling down the stairs?"
Fuck
Another monumental mistake made and she really wanted to curse aloud. The make-up job to cover up her neck that morning was sufficient, but then again, that area was conveniently hidden by her jacket. By now, the make-up must have worn off. There was no way around this one. Sydney smiled at her, watching the amusement spread over Francie's face.
"Did you finally hook up with Michael?" She asked, innocently. The question didn't sting, although it should have. It was just recently she told Francie about her former crush, partially to get her off her back about how unhappy she had appeared lately.
No faltering in her cheerfulness, Sydney slowly answered the question. "No, but I met someone."
Francie's mouth dropped, as she sat on the back of the couch. "You met someone and got a hickey in just over a day? You little slut!"
Sydney joined in Francie's laughter, and smacked her on the thigh. "Hey, I remember a one night stand or two leaving your room, pouty faced, and tails between their legs."
"Whatever, stones are easy to throw."
Sydney shut her eyes again, "Exactly."
"So is he hot? What does he do? Where's he from?" Francie did her best at probing her friend.
Quick thinking was the key, along with limited information. In her years, she had managed to master both. "Yes. Banking. Somewhere overseas." Francie opened her mouth to speak again, but the phone rang.
"Don't move." She ran to the phone to answer.
"Very funny." Sydney mumbled, while brainstorming for more ideas on what to tell Francie when she eventually finished her interrogation. Coming back in the room, phone in hand, she sat back down.
"Hey Will, you'll never guess what Sydney came back with." Francie hinted through the phone.
Immediately, Sydney's eyes widen, and she motioned to Francie to not say anything. Francie appeared to be confused at first, but Sydney pleaded with her eyes. Not Will, please not Will. She smirked at the request, but still honored it.
"A sprained ankle." Francie covered the phone with her hand and mouthed, 'You poop', before heading back into the kitchen. "Yeah, it looks completely awful."
The fewer people that know, the better off I'll be.
Relieved that one less lie needed to be told to the one person who would have the most adverse reaction to her sleeping with Sark, Sydney lay back down on the couch. Her life had taken yet another step in the direction of sheer complication.