Chapter Twelve: Secrets
"I don't trust you."
Irina raised one eyebrow in a question mark. Sydney supposed she must have been wondering what had triggered such an outburst; after all, Sydney hadn't so much as offered a hello after bursting into the office. But she needed, desperately, to tell her mother what she had learned during her meeting with her father, and she thought she might as well clear the air first.
"I mean, I do to an extent, but not completely, which I think is wise, considering that I'm quite sure you don't trust me completely, either," Sydney continued.
"Sydney, what happened?" Irina asked, her voice laced with controlled impatience.
"I'll tell you, I just need to say this first," Sydney said, taking a deep breath. "When Michael and I came to work for you, we intended to bring down your organization. Did you know that?"
"I had suspicions, yes," Irina said calmly.
"But we weren't successful," Sydney continued. "And we certainly weren't successful when we tried to escape. I mention this only because I need your help, you're the only person I believe can help me, and I plan to trust you, because I need to. I hope you can trust me, too."
Irina offered her a soft smile. "Of course, darling. Now, why don't you tell me what this is about?"
Sydney took another deep breath, willing the tears not to come as she spoke the words. "Michael's alive, Mom."
Irina's eyebrows shot practically to the ceiling. "What makes you think that?"
Shaking, Sydney moved to sit across from her mother, hoping she could tell this without breaking down completely. "My father told me, Mom." And she proceeded to tell her what Jack had told her about the CIA's plan and Michael's captivity.
Her mother was quiet for a full minute after Sydney finished her story, biting her lower lip as if searching for the right words. "Sydney--" she began, then stopped, shaking her head.
"What?" Sydney prodded.
Again, it seemed as if Irina had trouble getting the words out. "Sydney, sweetheart, I know how hard losing Michael has been on you, I know how much you must want him to be alive, but--" she paused, then said the next words delicately, as if she were afraid of Sydney's reaction. "Sydney, you have to account for the possibility that your father is lying."
Sydney gasped. It was something she hadn't really considered. Well, maybe she had for a minute... "Why would he do that?"
"Your father knows how much you care for Michael, sweetie," Irina said gently. "That if he is alive, you would do anything in your power to get him back. Perhaps your father is hoping that you'll simply walk right into CIA headquarters and offer them information. Then what, Sydney? You'll be behind bars, the Organization will be disbanded, and if Michael really is dead, then it will all have been for nothing."
Tears sprung to Sydney's eyes, her heart sinking as she realized what a real possibility that was. She'd had such hope that Michael was alive, and now...she didn't know what to believe. "I wasn't planning to do that, though," she whispered. "That's why I came to you. You were able to get me out of custody, I was hoping you could do the same for him."
Irina studied her with a frown. "Well, of course I could, and I would, if he was really imprisoned." She was silent for a moment, the look on her face one of utter concentration. "I'll tell you what, Sydney. I'll do everything I can to find out if your father is telling the truth, and if he is, where Michael is being held. You and I can work together on it, okay?"
Sydney felt a flood of relief, of hope. She'd known she'd been right to trust her mother. Of course she was going to help her. "Thank you, Mother. So much."
A small, sad frown crossed Irina's pretty face. "My only concern, Sydney, is that you'll get your hopes up too much here. I want you to accept the possibility that Michael is really dead."
"I know," Sydney said quickly, though her heart hurt just thinking about such a thing.
"And if he is alive," Irina said, in a voice that struggled to be gentle. "Sydney, you do realize that some of your actions of the past year, well--"
"They would be hard to forgive," Sydney said in a rush. "I know. He still doesn't deserve to spend the rest of his life behind bars, Mom."
"Of course he doesn't." Irina rose from her seat. The meeting was over. "Michael was-- is, perhaps-- a good man, Sydney. No matter what happens, you were lucky to have him for the time that you did."
The tears sprung to Sydney's eyes all over again as she rose from her chair. "I know, Mother."
Irina crossed to Sydney's side of the desk, offering her daughter a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Let's see if we can't bring him back to you, hmm?"
And the dam that had been building up inside of Sydney burst, and she found herself crying, sobbing, for the man she thought she had lost. Her mother's arms went around her, and Sydney cried on her shoulder as Irina offered words of comfort. "Shh, baby, shh," she soothed, as if speaking to a child. "Everything's going to be okay. Mommy's going to make everything okay."
Finally Sydney's sobs quieted, and she pulled away from her mother, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Thank you, Mom," she said, her voice shaky. "For everything."
"Of course, sweetheart," Irina said, offering her daughter a loving smile. "Now, darling, I'm sorry to say that I have a plane to catch, but I'll be back tomorrow, okay?"
"Where are you going?"
Another smile from Irina. "Just a bit of business I have to take care of, honey. I'd invite you to come with me, but--"
"No," Sydney said, shaking her head. "I want to get home to the children." Oh, God, the children. How would it be for them, having their father back after a year's time, after watching their mother--
"All right, sweetheart," Irina interrupted her thoughts, placing a tender hand on her cheek. "Take care of yourself. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Thank you," Sydney said, collapsing back down into the chair. "Goodbye, Mother."
"Goodbye, Sydney."
Irina Derevko did as she said she would-- she got on a plane. Sydney would have been quite surprised to know where she traveled to, though, for she didn't even know such a destination existed. Neither did Sark, or anyone else who Irina didn't wish to. Sydney and Sark also didn't know that their little organization had expanded over the past year, that it had an entirely different division with an entirely different leader. This leader knew of the existence of the other branch of the Organization, though he was unaware of who its young female leader was. As far as he was concerned, that woman had died a year ago.
When she reached her destination, a car drove Irina up to a now familiar apartment building. The doorman greeted her with a smile. She returned his smile, stepping past him into the elevator.
"Penthouse?" the elevator operator inquired.
"Yes," Irina responded. "Thank you."
The elevator ride seemed to take forever. Maybe it was because Irina was so anxious to get where she was going. She hadn't dropped in on this division of her organization in weeks, after all, nor had she been to visit its handsome leader.
The elevator stopped, and she stepped out, walking toward the door of the man she wished to visit. She rang the doorbell, and he answered promptly, as he always did, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile at the sight of her.
"Hello, Irina," he greeted, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "What a nice surprise."
She returned his smile. It really had been too long.
"Michael. It's good to see you."