Chapter Thirty: The Call

Sydney lay on her side facing Michael on the hotel bed, the fingers of her left hand intertwining with his. She knew they were being careless, that they should have snagged a few hours of sleep and showered and changed quickly. Instead, they had lay awake and talked for hours after the children had drifted off in the other bed, trying to catch up on the details of the past year-- the parts that weren't too painful to discuss, anyway.

"I just can't believe," she said softly, brushing his adorably disheveled hair back from his forehead. "That my mother knew you were alive when--" she paused, not wanting to finish the sentence but not wanting to avoid the subject, either. "--when I started seeing Sark."

Michael didn't respond, only stared at her solemnly with sleepy green eyes.

"I mean, obviously she was never a wonderful person," Sydney continued. "But I did believe that she cared about me."

"She cares about her Organization more, Sydney." Michael softened his words with a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You almost double-crossed her, and she wanted to punish you-- punish us-- for that. Plus, she apparently decided we were of more use to her working against each other than working together."

"I guess." Sydney shifted onto her back, more hurt than she could put into words for what her mother had done to her.

"Syd." Michael was still on his side, staring down at her.

"Hmm?"

"Don't answer this if you don't want to."

Sydney looked up at him, a question in her brown eyes.

Michael hesitated before continuing. "You said you didn't love Sark."

"I didn't," Sydney said quickly. She'd meant it when she'd said she would beg for his forgiveness. She'd do anything not to lose Michael. "I don't."

"I believe you," Michael responded. "But Sydney-- how did he feel about you?"

Sydney winced. "Michael--"

"Was-- is he in love with you?"

Sydney sighed. "Michael, no. He liked me, for sure, maybe he even cared about me. But he just wanted to get close to me to cement his position in the Organization."

"And you let him." Michael's voice was soft, hurt, and Sydney's heart ached for him.

"Close physically, Michael," Sydney said. "That's all."

They lay in silence for a moment before Sydney spoke again. "Michael, how did Brooke feel about her new status in the Organization?"

"She wants out, Sydney," Michael said without hesitation. "She got trapped into this life a long time ago and she wants out. She's a very sad, unhappy woman."

Sydney felt a twinge of something very close to jealousy at the concern in Michael's voice. "You got to know her pretty well, then."

"She was a good friend to me the last few months."

Sydney lay back on the bed. She couldn't have said exactly how she was feeling, but she couldn't help but think that his friendship with Brooke was just as painful for her to deal with as her relationship with Sark was for him. But then, part of that was just catty jealousy.

"So," she said, turning back to face him. "What do you think--"

Her question was cut off by the sound of a ringing phone, hers. The two of them just stared at each other.

She couldn't have said why, exactly, she decided to answer the call. She only knew that she couldn't have been more shocked by the sound of the voice on the other end of the line.

"Sydney. I think you and I can be a real help to each other."