TITLE: Smack
AUTHOR: Sun Tzu(me)
RATING: PG-13-maybe R later on, but the rating will be changed when needed.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing related to ALIAS. Just expressing my talent through fanfiction.
SUMMARY: AU-Sydney ran away from her life with her father. What happens when years later, her world comes crashing down and old memories are revoked? WIP
A/N: Many of the concepts of this story are taken from the book 'Smack' by Melvin Burgess. Great book. Really speaks the truth. I am comparing Sydney to both Lily and Gemma. If you read it or have read it you would really enjoy it! SD-6 doesn't exist and therefore Jack is not a double agent! Sydney is only 24 years old.
FEEDBACK: Sure, why not? Keeps the updates coming!
*
Chapter One: Runaway, Little Girl
*
Listen. You can be anything you want to be. Be careful. It's a spell. It's magic. Listen to the words. You can be anything, you can do anything, you can be anything, you can do anything. Listen to the magic. -Smack ('Lily')
*
"Shall we begin?" The scruffy man asks me.
I raise my head to meet his eyes. "Of course."
"Why don't you start by telling me your name." He picks up his pencil and puts its tip to the paper.
"Which one?" I ask. I know which ones he wants, but why not have a little fun?
"The ones you use the most." He grunts.
"Alison Kraviko and Sydney." I tell him, leaving the second last name off intentionally.
"Sydney what?" He queries.
I lean back in my chair. I really need a smoke.
"Sydney Bristow." I mumble it.
He sees how uncomfortable I look, but just as any CIA asshole would normally do, he continues the interrogation.
"Place and date of birth?"
"Los Angeles, California, April 17, 1979." I answer.
"Parents?" He asks.
"Orphan." I lie. He won't get to know me that quick. I know, the minute I tell him their names, if he already hasn't figured it out himself, I will be revealed. Revealed as Jack's little girl. The one that ran away. When she was only 13. I know he thought I was dead after I left and never wrote or called. He probably thought I got killed on the streets. Yeah, right. I can take care of myself.
He continues.
"Adoptive parents?"
Any more ridiculous questions and I'll hit him. The only thing to do, I suppose, is to start from the beginning. So I do just that.
"Sydney Bristow was my name until I turned 13. I was not an orphan. My mother died when I was 6. My father works for the CIA. I ran away from home on my 13 birthday. I ended up in Russia where I have been living for the last 9 years working as a spy for an agency called K-Directorate which is run by Alexander Khasinau. He recruited me at 15 and gave me a new name. Alison Kraviko. Last week, Khasinau was assassinated and K-Directorate was taken down. So here I am." I rush it all out in one breath.
He looks stunned. Good. He's just another CIA jackass. Just like my father.
"Excuse me for a moment." He leaves abruptly.
I fiddle with my nose-ring absentmindedly. I wonder how Sark's debrief is going.
I suppose I must be a sight to be seen right about now. Dirty-blonde hair, brown eyes. Nose-ring, multiple earrings, belly button piercing. Multiple tattoos. Stuff I did when I was drunk. Low cut top and skimpy shorts. My slutty outfit. Technically, that is pretty much what I am. After I left home when I was 13, I got as many piercings as I could afford. I met Sark and lost my virginity to him on the day we met. Got into a little heroin. Got off it after about a year when I was recruited with Sark. I still smoke fags though. I've run missions for K-Directorate and become one of their best agents. Until Khasinau was assassinated and the agency destroyed. Damn those MI5 agents. Khasinau was like a father to me. He was better than my own.
My father was the very reason I ran away. He was never around. He didn't love me. So I figured, why hang around this dump when I could be having fun? So I ran away.
I am starting to think that having Sark and myself turn ourselves in to the CIA was a bad idea. My father would probably be dead by now, with all the missions he went on when I knew him. I didn't really care. That would just be one more parent out of my hair.
Just as I am getting annoyed with the CIA's lack of attention, someone opens the door.
"Hey babe." Sark saunters toward me.
"Hey." I kiss him roughly. Nothing is ever gentle with Sark. Not sex. Not work. Not kissing.
"Those bastards making you wait around?" He asks, sitting down next to me.
I nod.
"Yeah, same here."
"Let's get some coffee." He suggests, pulling me up from the chair with him.
I smile slightly and follow him. His hand is soon protectively around my waist as we walk around aimlessly, looking for anything resembling a coffee room. Agents are everywhere. Leaning over desks, arguing, being bossed by their superiors. Typical.
My eyes find a small group of agents in a corner talking rapidly. A young man, probably in his late 20s with blondish hair. Another young man with black hair, a little overweight. A few older men. A young blonde woman. A few more older men including the one that was debriefing me....and ....my father.
I freeze, forcing Sark to stop in his tracks as well.
"Ally, what's the matter?" He asks, staring at me intently and eventually following my eyes onto the rotunda. He sees my father.
I swallow hesitantly, "I don't know if I can face him." I state simply. "Remember, he thinks I have been dead all these years. He doesn't know me or what I've been though. The drugs. The punters. Everything."
"You can. Don't worry. He'll understand." Sark pulls me to him tighter than ever. Just at that moment, Jack suddenly turns toward us, as does everyone else.
It feels like the whole room is looking at me. They know who Alison is, for I am famous for my mission successes and known as the best agent K-Directorate or any agency for that matter has ever seen, but they did not know that Sydney was Alison because there were never any pictures of me.
I suddenly feel exposed and slightly embarrased or shameful in my shorts and tank top. Sark notices my sudden change in confidence and turns me around, heading us back toward the conference room. But I refuse.
"I need to face him Sark." I tell him.
"Do you want me to come with you?" He asks tentatively.
"Would you please? I might need you to get me out of here if it doesn't go well." My voice wavers a bit.
He kisses me full on the mouth in reply.
We break apart and walk slowly toward my father, his arm firmly secured around my waist once again.
"Sydney?" My father says as we reach him.
"It's Alison now." I spit back.
"Sorry. Alison. It's good to see you again. I....all these years...I..I thought you had....died." He mumbles quietly, not meeting my eyes.
"Yeah. Well, I'm no idiot." I reply dryly, almost mockingly. He deserves to be mocked. He is so clueless.
"So, have you come to join the CIA?" He asks tentatively, definetly trying to change the topic. Jackass.
"It looks that way." I tell him, void of any emotion.
I should probably try to be more civil to him, but some things in the past I can't ever forgive or forget. He was never around and it destroyed my confidence. That is why I ran away. I want him to feel sorry for what he did. I really do.
"And Mr. Sark will as well?" He motions to Sark who is holding me tight. The one person keeping me grounded now.
"Of course. You don't think I'd leave Ally alone with you brutes, do you?" He answers albeit playfully.
"No. Not at all." My father hates him already. Good.
I hardly notice when the group around us clears their throats almost simultaneously.
"So, I think we can wait till tomorrow for the rest of the debriefing, perhaps you would like to get a hotel room and rest till then." The blondish haired man suggests. He looks nervous. Good.
"Of course, but let me introduce you to some of our agents. This is Michael Vaughn, Eric Weiss, Director Kendall, and Christine Phillips. They will be following your case closely." Jack adds.
I nod to the agents.
"Could you..." Jack eyes the agents.
They walk away, busying themselves with other useless tasks. Robots.
"Before you go, there is something I should tell you." My father looks about him wearily.
"Come with me." He heads to an empty conference room and we all sit down.
"I need to tell you something, Sydney, you need to know the truth." He calls me by my old name but I don't pay much attention. Old habits die hard.
I nod, urging him to go on.
"Your mother did not die in a car accident. She worked for the KGB.......................... ......................................................................... She turned herself in to the CIA several months ago. We are holding her downstairs, if you want to,....see her." Jack leans back in his chair, obviously unsure of how I would take the news.
I swallow hard. It is getting difficult to breathe. I feel Sark grab my hand with his own as I stare into space. My mother is alive. She was a traitor, like me. She killed countless people, like me. Just like me. Just like her.
"I...I want to see her. Please." I fight back the tears that threaten to spill any second now.
"Alright."
*
My father has led us down two elevators and a staircase already. We are in the bowels of the CIA Joint Task Force building and my nerves are hopping like mad. I didn't know whether to be jumpin mad or freaking and crying.
Sark keeps on wincing this annoying little gimic. I suddenly realize, after he'd done it enough to irritate me, that I am squeezing his hand to its breaking point. He seems more than grateful when I release it and puts his arm around my waist. Right where it belongs.
Two black gates raise in front of us. My father goes in first, and we follow hesitantly.
"Jack. I didn't expect you today, is something the matter?" A woman's voice ponders. A slight russian accent. Like mine.
"Yes, in fact, a new development has occured." He answers, gesturing to us.
All I can do is stand there, looking at my mother. My very own mother. The one I havn't seen in 18 years. The one I always looked up to. The one I constantly missed. The one I would have given anything to be with. But some of the things I thought were not true. She was a traitor, but yet, so am I. I knew very well that K-Directorate was an enemy of the United States. I knew they were very rogue and dangerous. But I was still thrilled to join. I was only 15 and feeling lost and alone, except for Sark of course. K-Directorate gave me a new life. They helped me discover myself. They rehibilitated me and got me and Sark off herion. They helped me understand that my father worked for the CIA, and that it was good for me to work against his agency. They helped me understand that I was getting revenge for his horrible parenting skills. They took care of me. They made me the best I could ever be. But they also lied. And now, they're gone. So what do I have left? What do I do now?
Should I accept my mother and be kind to her. Let her get to know me and allow myself to get to know her? What?
She stared wide-eyed at me. She mirrored my suprise.
I began feeling shameful again when she still stared open-mouthed. I must be a disgrace to her. 'Skimpy slut with piecings and tattoos everywhere they shouldn't be.' I would have laughed had I not been so preoccupied.
I could already feel the carefully applied mascara and eye shadow and eye liner getting ready to slide down my face as soon as I let the tears fall. But I wouldn't let them this time, no, not this time.
Okay, so maybe I would. They fell so rapidly. Once I started, I just couldn't stop. It was like herion. Once you start you just can't stop without an unbearable struggle that seems to last forever and ever, only worsening as the days pass.
My mother started crying too. It was horrible. Just unbelievably awful. When I just couldn't stand to look at the woman who was such a newfound mystery to me, Sark allowed me to turn to him and cry into his chest. I must have been there, just standing, gripping his jacket for half an hour. My mother was pressing her hands into the glass to support herself. It was horrendous. I felt the same way I did when I was 14 and....
*Flashback*
"I'm going to have a baby." Ally said. Just right out of the blue.
Christ!
"Oh my God! What are we going to do? What are we going to do?" Sark's eyes bulged.
"Will you...get an abortion?" Sark asked quietly.
"I'm not gonna kill my baby. That's my baby. No one's gonna kill my baby." Ally paced the room. "Never."
"I didn't say kill it." Sark answered, eyeing her carfully.
"I said I'm going to HAVE a baby. Give birth to it and all. There's going to be a baby. A baby, Sark..." She spit back convincingly.
"You're a junkie, Ally. Maybe you ought to have an abortion, for the baby's sake." Sark pleaded carefully.
"I don't kill people just because they happen to be accidents, Sark." She told him, frowning.
"Your baby is a junkie. Your baby is inside you and it's full of junk, same as you. You want to give birth to a junkie? Is that what you want? Is that how much you love your bloody baby?" Sark was yelling now.
"Are you telling me it'd be better off dead?!" Ally screamed back.
"I'm telling you it's not fair to your baby to be pregnant with it while you're full of junk. What sort of mother..." Sark hissed.
"I can give up the herion any time I want. I am stronger than all of you, than everyone."
Sark just laughed. I mean, it wasn't funny but under other circumstances it would've been. The number of times they'd tried to give up-he'd lost count. Dunno why. It used to be easy. Maybe the comedown's worse when you've been using for a while. First you get the shivers. Then you get the aches, then the cramps start in your guts, then it's the squits and you're diving into the bog every five minutes. Then your teeth start aching, and your bones begin to hurt, and then you feel sick in the pit of your stomach and then you're throwing up.
And all it takes is one needle and Lady Herion makes you feel.....mmmmmmm.
Sark was gobsmacked. It never occured to him that Ally might want a baby. I mean, apart from the junk, it could be anyone's. It was the way they earned their money. Ally would stand on a corner. Wait to be picked up. Make sure Sark made himself visible to the punter, have him watch her back and make sure she's paid properly. Five minutes of laying on her back and Ally would be paid and returned. In half an hour, they could make a couple hundred. It paid for food, housing, the lot. All in under 5 minutes per person.
An average of 5 guys every few days left a wide range of possible fathers for the baby, it could have been Sark or some random guy she didn't know the name of.
"If you're sure you can handle it, I'm with you all the way. We'll quit the herion, and make a nice life for ourselves and our new baby." Sark tried to be positive.
"Thank you Sark," Ally softened, "I love you so much." "Both of you," She added, rubbing her hand over her still flat stomach.
*End Flashback*
That was all of 10 years ago. They did get off the junk, with Khasinau's help when he recruited an already pregnant Ally, but it wasn't soon enough. The baby died in the birth canal.
Fighting with her own mother was almost as horrible as remembering those times they had struggled so hard but had still suffered so greatly. Losing their first child. Nothing could compare. Except maybe this.
"I...thought you were dead, Sydney." Irina whispered, her voice hoarse with tears.
Ally had been so lost in her own world of tears and sadness that she hadn't even noticed when Irina started to speak.
Sark nudged her gently, urging her to address Irina.
Ally wiped at her eyes furiously. "I....I'm not Sydney." Ally responded finally, her voice livid with anger, "My name is Alison Kraviko."
Irina nodded, confused. "No, no, you're Sydney. My baby girl. The one that ran away." Irina searched her daughter's eyes.
"Sydney died when she ran away. Alison lived. Not Sydney." Ally hissed. "Don't call me that name ever again."
The tears were replaced by an upsetting air of confusion.
"You're Sydney, my Sydney." Irina kept whispering, over and over again.
Ally shook her head profusely.
The battle seemed to go on for hours, it was boggling.
After it was too much to take, Sark asked my father to take me upstairs while he had a talk with Irina.
I followed reluctantly, trying to remember how to trust my loved ones. I was trying very hard.
I could barely hear what they were saying, but all I needed to hear was the first sentence until I knew exactly what was going to go down.
"You are not her mother. A mother would know her daughter inside and out. You have no idea what Ally's been through. No one does. And no one ever even bothers to ask. I am the only person she can trust because of you and Jack. You abandoned her. He ignored her. She has been through so much, so very much, and she deserves all of your love and understanding." Sark must have left the room soon after that because he was upstairs only five minutes behind us.
He immediately wrapped me in his arms and held me while I cried.
"Let's go back to the hotel. We can finish the debrief tomorrow." Sark told me.
I nodded solemnly.
"That should be fine, we'll need you back by noon tomorrow though." My father said from behind us.
And with his arm firmly around my waist, we left the CIA. Good.
AUTHOR: Sun Tzu(me)
RATING: PG-13-maybe R later on, but the rating will be changed when needed.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing related to ALIAS. Just expressing my talent through fanfiction.
SUMMARY: AU-Sydney ran away from her life with her father. What happens when years later, her world comes crashing down and old memories are revoked? WIP
A/N: Many of the concepts of this story are taken from the book 'Smack' by Melvin Burgess. Great book. Really speaks the truth. I am comparing Sydney to both Lily and Gemma. If you read it or have read it you would really enjoy it! SD-6 doesn't exist and therefore Jack is not a double agent! Sydney is only 24 years old.
FEEDBACK: Sure, why not? Keeps the updates coming!
*
Chapter One: Runaway, Little Girl
*
Listen. You can be anything you want to be. Be careful. It's a spell. It's magic. Listen to the words. You can be anything, you can do anything, you can be anything, you can do anything. Listen to the magic. -Smack ('Lily')
*
"Shall we begin?" The scruffy man asks me.
I raise my head to meet his eyes. "Of course."
"Why don't you start by telling me your name." He picks up his pencil and puts its tip to the paper.
"Which one?" I ask. I know which ones he wants, but why not have a little fun?
"The ones you use the most." He grunts.
"Alison Kraviko and Sydney." I tell him, leaving the second last name off intentionally.
"Sydney what?" He queries.
I lean back in my chair. I really need a smoke.
"Sydney Bristow." I mumble it.
He sees how uncomfortable I look, but just as any CIA asshole would normally do, he continues the interrogation.
"Place and date of birth?"
"Los Angeles, California, April 17, 1979." I answer.
"Parents?" He asks.
"Orphan." I lie. He won't get to know me that quick. I know, the minute I tell him their names, if he already hasn't figured it out himself, I will be revealed. Revealed as Jack's little girl. The one that ran away. When she was only 13. I know he thought I was dead after I left and never wrote or called. He probably thought I got killed on the streets. Yeah, right. I can take care of myself.
He continues.
"Adoptive parents?"
Any more ridiculous questions and I'll hit him. The only thing to do, I suppose, is to start from the beginning. So I do just that.
"Sydney Bristow was my name until I turned 13. I was not an orphan. My mother died when I was 6. My father works for the CIA. I ran away from home on my 13 birthday. I ended up in Russia where I have been living for the last 9 years working as a spy for an agency called K-Directorate which is run by Alexander Khasinau. He recruited me at 15 and gave me a new name. Alison Kraviko. Last week, Khasinau was assassinated and K-Directorate was taken down. So here I am." I rush it all out in one breath.
He looks stunned. Good. He's just another CIA jackass. Just like my father.
"Excuse me for a moment." He leaves abruptly.
I fiddle with my nose-ring absentmindedly. I wonder how Sark's debrief is going.
I suppose I must be a sight to be seen right about now. Dirty-blonde hair, brown eyes. Nose-ring, multiple earrings, belly button piercing. Multiple tattoos. Stuff I did when I was drunk. Low cut top and skimpy shorts. My slutty outfit. Technically, that is pretty much what I am. After I left home when I was 13, I got as many piercings as I could afford. I met Sark and lost my virginity to him on the day we met. Got into a little heroin. Got off it after about a year when I was recruited with Sark. I still smoke fags though. I've run missions for K-Directorate and become one of their best agents. Until Khasinau was assassinated and the agency destroyed. Damn those MI5 agents. Khasinau was like a father to me. He was better than my own.
My father was the very reason I ran away. He was never around. He didn't love me. So I figured, why hang around this dump when I could be having fun? So I ran away.
I am starting to think that having Sark and myself turn ourselves in to the CIA was a bad idea. My father would probably be dead by now, with all the missions he went on when I knew him. I didn't really care. That would just be one more parent out of my hair.
Just as I am getting annoyed with the CIA's lack of attention, someone opens the door.
"Hey babe." Sark saunters toward me.
"Hey." I kiss him roughly. Nothing is ever gentle with Sark. Not sex. Not work. Not kissing.
"Those bastards making you wait around?" He asks, sitting down next to me.
I nod.
"Yeah, same here."
"Let's get some coffee." He suggests, pulling me up from the chair with him.
I smile slightly and follow him. His hand is soon protectively around my waist as we walk around aimlessly, looking for anything resembling a coffee room. Agents are everywhere. Leaning over desks, arguing, being bossed by their superiors. Typical.
My eyes find a small group of agents in a corner talking rapidly. A young man, probably in his late 20s with blondish hair. Another young man with black hair, a little overweight. A few older men. A young blonde woman. A few more older men including the one that was debriefing me....and ....my father.
I freeze, forcing Sark to stop in his tracks as well.
"Ally, what's the matter?" He asks, staring at me intently and eventually following my eyes onto the rotunda. He sees my father.
I swallow hesitantly, "I don't know if I can face him." I state simply. "Remember, he thinks I have been dead all these years. He doesn't know me or what I've been though. The drugs. The punters. Everything."
"You can. Don't worry. He'll understand." Sark pulls me to him tighter than ever. Just at that moment, Jack suddenly turns toward us, as does everyone else.
It feels like the whole room is looking at me. They know who Alison is, for I am famous for my mission successes and known as the best agent K-Directorate or any agency for that matter has ever seen, but they did not know that Sydney was Alison because there were never any pictures of me.
I suddenly feel exposed and slightly embarrased or shameful in my shorts and tank top. Sark notices my sudden change in confidence and turns me around, heading us back toward the conference room. But I refuse.
"I need to face him Sark." I tell him.
"Do you want me to come with you?" He asks tentatively.
"Would you please? I might need you to get me out of here if it doesn't go well." My voice wavers a bit.
He kisses me full on the mouth in reply.
We break apart and walk slowly toward my father, his arm firmly secured around my waist once again.
"Sydney?" My father says as we reach him.
"It's Alison now." I spit back.
"Sorry. Alison. It's good to see you again. I....all these years...I..I thought you had....died." He mumbles quietly, not meeting my eyes.
"Yeah. Well, I'm no idiot." I reply dryly, almost mockingly. He deserves to be mocked. He is so clueless.
"So, have you come to join the CIA?" He asks tentatively, definetly trying to change the topic. Jackass.
"It looks that way." I tell him, void of any emotion.
I should probably try to be more civil to him, but some things in the past I can't ever forgive or forget. He was never around and it destroyed my confidence. That is why I ran away. I want him to feel sorry for what he did. I really do.
"And Mr. Sark will as well?" He motions to Sark who is holding me tight. The one person keeping me grounded now.
"Of course. You don't think I'd leave Ally alone with you brutes, do you?" He answers albeit playfully.
"No. Not at all." My father hates him already. Good.
I hardly notice when the group around us clears their throats almost simultaneously.
"So, I think we can wait till tomorrow for the rest of the debriefing, perhaps you would like to get a hotel room and rest till then." The blondish haired man suggests. He looks nervous. Good.
"Of course, but let me introduce you to some of our agents. This is Michael Vaughn, Eric Weiss, Director Kendall, and Christine Phillips. They will be following your case closely." Jack adds.
I nod to the agents.
"Could you..." Jack eyes the agents.
They walk away, busying themselves with other useless tasks. Robots.
"Before you go, there is something I should tell you." My father looks about him wearily.
"Come with me." He heads to an empty conference room and we all sit down.
"I need to tell you something, Sydney, you need to know the truth." He calls me by my old name but I don't pay much attention. Old habits die hard.
I nod, urging him to go on.
"Your mother did not die in a car accident. She worked for the KGB.......................... ......................................................................... She turned herself in to the CIA several months ago. We are holding her downstairs, if you want to,....see her." Jack leans back in his chair, obviously unsure of how I would take the news.
I swallow hard. It is getting difficult to breathe. I feel Sark grab my hand with his own as I stare into space. My mother is alive. She was a traitor, like me. She killed countless people, like me. Just like me. Just like her.
"I...I want to see her. Please." I fight back the tears that threaten to spill any second now.
"Alright."
*
My father has led us down two elevators and a staircase already. We are in the bowels of the CIA Joint Task Force building and my nerves are hopping like mad. I didn't know whether to be jumpin mad or freaking and crying.
Sark keeps on wincing this annoying little gimic. I suddenly realize, after he'd done it enough to irritate me, that I am squeezing his hand to its breaking point. He seems more than grateful when I release it and puts his arm around my waist. Right where it belongs.
Two black gates raise in front of us. My father goes in first, and we follow hesitantly.
"Jack. I didn't expect you today, is something the matter?" A woman's voice ponders. A slight russian accent. Like mine.
"Yes, in fact, a new development has occured." He answers, gesturing to us.
All I can do is stand there, looking at my mother. My very own mother. The one I havn't seen in 18 years. The one I always looked up to. The one I constantly missed. The one I would have given anything to be with. But some of the things I thought were not true. She was a traitor, but yet, so am I. I knew very well that K-Directorate was an enemy of the United States. I knew they were very rogue and dangerous. But I was still thrilled to join. I was only 15 and feeling lost and alone, except for Sark of course. K-Directorate gave me a new life. They helped me discover myself. They rehibilitated me and got me and Sark off herion. They helped me understand that my father worked for the CIA, and that it was good for me to work against his agency. They helped me understand that I was getting revenge for his horrible parenting skills. They took care of me. They made me the best I could ever be. But they also lied. And now, they're gone. So what do I have left? What do I do now?
Should I accept my mother and be kind to her. Let her get to know me and allow myself to get to know her? What?
She stared wide-eyed at me. She mirrored my suprise.
I began feeling shameful again when she still stared open-mouthed. I must be a disgrace to her. 'Skimpy slut with piecings and tattoos everywhere they shouldn't be.' I would have laughed had I not been so preoccupied.
I could already feel the carefully applied mascara and eye shadow and eye liner getting ready to slide down my face as soon as I let the tears fall. But I wouldn't let them this time, no, not this time.
Okay, so maybe I would. They fell so rapidly. Once I started, I just couldn't stop. It was like herion. Once you start you just can't stop without an unbearable struggle that seems to last forever and ever, only worsening as the days pass.
My mother started crying too. It was horrible. Just unbelievably awful. When I just couldn't stand to look at the woman who was such a newfound mystery to me, Sark allowed me to turn to him and cry into his chest. I must have been there, just standing, gripping his jacket for half an hour. My mother was pressing her hands into the glass to support herself. It was horrendous. I felt the same way I did when I was 14 and....
*Flashback*
"I'm going to have a baby." Ally said. Just right out of the blue.
Christ!
"Oh my God! What are we going to do? What are we going to do?" Sark's eyes bulged.
"Will you...get an abortion?" Sark asked quietly.
"I'm not gonna kill my baby. That's my baby. No one's gonna kill my baby." Ally paced the room. "Never."
"I didn't say kill it." Sark answered, eyeing her carfully.
"I said I'm going to HAVE a baby. Give birth to it and all. There's going to be a baby. A baby, Sark..." She spit back convincingly.
"You're a junkie, Ally. Maybe you ought to have an abortion, for the baby's sake." Sark pleaded carefully.
"I don't kill people just because they happen to be accidents, Sark." She told him, frowning.
"Your baby is a junkie. Your baby is inside you and it's full of junk, same as you. You want to give birth to a junkie? Is that what you want? Is that how much you love your bloody baby?" Sark was yelling now.
"Are you telling me it'd be better off dead?!" Ally screamed back.
"I'm telling you it's not fair to your baby to be pregnant with it while you're full of junk. What sort of mother..." Sark hissed.
"I can give up the herion any time I want. I am stronger than all of you, than everyone."
Sark just laughed. I mean, it wasn't funny but under other circumstances it would've been. The number of times they'd tried to give up-he'd lost count. Dunno why. It used to be easy. Maybe the comedown's worse when you've been using for a while. First you get the shivers. Then you get the aches, then the cramps start in your guts, then it's the squits and you're diving into the bog every five minutes. Then your teeth start aching, and your bones begin to hurt, and then you feel sick in the pit of your stomach and then you're throwing up.
And all it takes is one needle and Lady Herion makes you feel.....mmmmmmm.
Sark was gobsmacked. It never occured to him that Ally might want a baby. I mean, apart from the junk, it could be anyone's. It was the way they earned their money. Ally would stand on a corner. Wait to be picked up. Make sure Sark made himself visible to the punter, have him watch her back and make sure she's paid properly. Five minutes of laying on her back and Ally would be paid and returned. In half an hour, they could make a couple hundred. It paid for food, housing, the lot. All in under 5 minutes per person.
An average of 5 guys every few days left a wide range of possible fathers for the baby, it could have been Sark or some random guy she didn't know the name of.
"If you're sure you can handle it, I'm with you all the way. We'll quit the herion, and make a nice life for ourselves and our new baby." Sark tried to be positive.
"Thank you Sark," Ally softened, "I love you so much." "Both of you," She added, rubbing her hand over her still flat stomach.
*End Flashback*
That was all of 10 years ago. They did get off the junk, with Khasinau's help when he recruited an already pregnant Ally, but it wasn't soon enough. The baby died in the birth canal.
Fighting with her own mother was almost as horrible as remembering those times they had struggled so hard but had still suffered so greatly. Losing their first child. Nothing could compare. Except maybe this.
"I...thought you were dead, Sydney." Irina whispered, her voice hoarse with tears.
Ally had been so lost in her own world of tears and sadness that she hadn't even noticed when Irina started to speak.
Sark nudged her gently, urging her to address Irina.
Ally wiped at her eyes furiously. "I....I'm not Sydney." Ally responded finally, her voice livid with anger, "My name is Alison Kraviko."
Irina nodded, confused. "No, no, you're Sydney. My baby girl. The one that ran away." Irina searched her daughter's eyes.
"Sydney died when she ran away. Alison lived. Not Sydney." Ally hissed. "Don't call me that name ever again."
The tears were replaced by an upsetting air of confusion.
"You're Sydney, my Sydney." Irina kept whispering, over and over again.
Ally shook her head profusely.
The battle seemed to go on for hours, it was boggling.
After it was too much to take, Sark asked my father to take me upstairs while he had a talk with Irina.
I followed reluctantly, trying to remember how to trust my loved ones. I was trying very hard.
I could barely hear what they were saying, but all I needed to hear was the first sentence until I knew exactly what was going to go down.
"You are not her mother. A mother would know her daughter inside and out. You have no idea what Ally's been through. No one does. And no one ever even bothers to ask. I am the only person she can trust because of you and Jack. You abandoned her. He ignored her. She has been through so much, so very much, and she deserves all of your love and understanding." Sark must have left the room soon after that because he was upstairs only five minutes behind us.
He immediately wrapped me in his arms and held me while I cried.
"Let's go back to the hotel. We can finish the debrief tomorrow." Sark told me.
I nodded solemnly.
"That should be fine, we'll need you back by noon tomorrow though." My father said from behind us.
And with his arm firmly around my waist, we left the CIA. Good.