Renewal
Strength
Your mother says she loves you, says she committed her sins to protect you, says she killed Vaughn's father because her superiors gave her no choice.
In the heat of the moment, it was easy to believe. [I just hoped...that maybe they wouldn't hate me/I loved my husband and daughter!]
But now you begin to doubt, and even worse, you begin to understand what it means that she has done all these things in the name of protecting you and your father.
She's killed men. She's sold her soul, and her body, and sacrificed any sense of morality she once had.
In your name.
More blood on your hands.
In one respect, you feel pity for your mother, for the young girl the KGB took from her family and trained to be a killer [one day some men came to my school and gave us a test...they told me that I could serve my country], for the woman who was happiest when living someone else's life [my happiest memories come from being Laura/I began to wonder if I could be Laura forever...I didn't want to be Irina again. I didn't want to be a killer], for the woman, who separated from her husband and daughter, dead in their eyes, spent her life trying to protect them, desperately hoping that they wouldn't hate her for the things she did, for the pain she caused them through her betrayal [I just wanted to protect my family...I did what I had to do]...yes, you think, you pity her.
But you cannot forget her sins. You can't forgive her sins. You can't forget the people she killed [she is responsible for the death of twelve CIA agents...I killed many as "The Man"...I was ruthless. A killer. I destroyed those who made me a killer...everyone who trained me, my superiors, the men who recruited me], the crimes she's committed [assassination....drug smuggling...arms sales...intelligence gathering...I was the head of an international crime syndicate], or the way she destroyed your father and your perfect world when she left you so many years ago.
You can't forget, and you can't forgive her.
You loved her, worshipped her almost, for so many years....she was the perfect mother in your mind's eye.
Then you discovered the truth about her, the truth about how she had married your father to steal information for the KGB, and then you hated her, hated her for the things she did to the men you love [the man your Daddy was died when she left....and the estranged father that you've barely known was born/I was eight when my father became one of those stars...William Vaughn was one of the agents your mother killed], hated her for leaving you [did she like leaving me? did she like being free of me?], hated her for ruining your perfect view of her, hated her for spoiling the one part of your life you always thought was perfect...the one part of your life that was always free of lies. You hated her because she made you wonder if your very existence was part of a lie.
Now you pity her, and you find that you cannot hate her. You can try to, want to...but you can't. Because she says she loves you, and there's part of you that loves her back. The little girl who prayed desperately for her mother back never really died. Now that girl has what she prayed for all those years ago, and she still loves her Mommy, despite the lies, despite her Mommy leaving her to grow up cared for by strangers. The little girl has what she prayed for........and she still loves her mother.
The little girl you were [the little girl you tried to shove to the darkest corner of your heart] the little girl who remembers her mother so dearly, who worshipped her mother [you were going to be a literature professor, follow your mother's footsteps...and so you did. Just it wasn't the literature professor part of your mother that you emulated.]....that little girl never died, no matter how hard you tried to kill her.
Yes, part of you loves your mother.
* * *
You go to see your father.
He's in a viewing room, the same one that you viewed the tapes of her interrogation in yesterday.
He's nearly finished watching the tapes...he's reached the point where you finally lost all control of your emotions...when you finally stopped trying to fight the little girl you were.
[Ms. Derevko, you killed countless numbers of people through your actions as the Man. Would you have us believe you did this out of some misplaced sense of family responsibility?]
I will not sit here and listen to you question my love for my husband and daughter!
I did what I had to do to protect them, and that's all that matters to me.
He watches this over and over again, transfixed by her words...eventually repeating her words along with her image on the screen.
He doesn't see or hear you enter.
Your mother affects him like this, you know. Under normal circumstances, Jack Bristow [killerfatherspydoubleagent...the product of his wife's betrayal] would never let anyone enter a room without his knowledge.
"She doesn't want us to hate her," you say softly.
He spins around quickly, turning off the screen [covering our tracks, are we?] as he stands up to face you.
"Sydney! I didn't hear you come in."
"She doesn't want us to hate her, Daddy...she says she loves us." Your words are not those of the strong, confident CIA agent you've become, the woman who is a proficient killer, liar and thief, but instead those of the little girl you were. The little girl who you can no longer fight.
"I know. I've watched the tapes." His words are soft, but there is steel beneath the gentle exterior.
"I...saw the tape of your conversation with her yesterday, with Agent Vaughn," he adds.
"I can't hate her. Part of me wants to...part of me will never forgive her...but part of me wants to love her."
"She was happy, Sydney. She says she was her happiest while she was Laura...she says she loved us."
"I know, Dad."
"I never stopped loving her, you know. Not even while I hated her." He shakes his head. "I loved her a little bit too much, I think."
"How is that possible?"
You can't imagine loving someone too much....cannot even begin to comprehend it. You love Vaughn so much that it hurts, and even then you don't know if it's enough, because your love for him, and his love for you is everything in the world to you. It's the centre of gravity that keeps you steady, the force that keeps you held down to the earth, because otherwise you would be flying out of control, lost without him, lost without the rock he provides for you to build your life upon. He's the eye of the storm, the one place that is calm and quiet and peaceful and free of the lies you are surrounded by in your life...he's the only place in the world where you are free of the lies that are your life.
He's the centre of your world, your everything.
"I don't know....I can't think straight with her around me. She's always had that effect on me. The first time I met her...I fell in love with her. I loved her more than you can ever possibly realize, Sydney."
"I doubt it." Your words are harsh, clipped.
This raises his head, makes him really look at you for the first time since you entered the room.
"You love him, don't you." It's a statement, not a question, and a challenge at the same time.
"Yes."
It's not much to reply with, you know, but it says everything that needs to be said, says all that your father needs to know.
You've had conversations with your father about the nature of your relationship with Vaughn before.
You had one after your mother entered custody, after he found you lying in Vaughn's arms in the warehouse after your first meeting with your mother....
You were both dressed and prepared to leave, but you found you couldn't force yourself away from his arms, and he didn't want to let you go.
He was sitting up, leaning against a storage container, his legs outstretched. You were lying between his legs, his arms around his waist, your head leaning back on his shoulder, his head resting on yours.
"You should go. This isn't safe to stay here like this."
"Vaughn..." Your voice was pleading, desperate for a few more moments of peace and quiet, a few more minutes of freedom from the lies.
"I love you, and when this is all over, we can stay like this forever. That's a promise."
"I love you too," you whispered to him, "I love you more than life itself."
"I know," he replied softly, "I know."
"You know what, Mr. Vaughn?"
Your father steps out of the shadows.
He continues icily, "I could have been SD-6 Security Section. I could have been Sark. I could have been Sloane. Sydney's cover could have blown! And for what? So you two could.....enjoy some private time?"
Vaughn stands quickly, angry at his insinuations.
"Do you think that's what this is?" he nearly shouts.
"I think that's exactly what this is." Your father's tone is cold, colder than you've ever heard before.
You stand up, brushing dust from your clothes. "Vaughn, go. I'll deal with this."
"Syd-"
"Just go, Vaughn. You can't be seen here with us."
He touches your hand quickly as he leaves, clearly resisting the urge to kiss you goodbye. But his touch on your hand conveys apology, and love and tenderness and everything that you need to possess in order to calm your anger with your father.
"What are you doing here?" you shout at your father.
"My relationship with Vaughn is exactly that - my relationship with Vaughn. You have no right to be making accusations like that," you continue, stalking up and down the concrete floor which a few hours earlier had been the location of much pleasanter activities that this...
"Are you sleeping with him?" You'll say one thing for your father - he gets to the point.
"Am I WHAT?"
"Are you sleeping with Agent Vaughn?"
"No." Ten years working for the CIA has taught you one thing at least - how to lie. It's as simple as breathing for you now, and as necessary to your life. You no longer have any qualms about lying to your father...he kept so much from you for so many years, it's hard to feel guilt at lying to him about this.
"I'm pleased to hear it."
"Would you please explain what you are doing here?"
"Not before I'm assured that your relationship with Agent Vaughn is nothing but professional."
"Fine, Dad. My relationship with Vaughn is professional. We are not engaged in any form of relationship that could be perceived as a conflict of interest or unprofessional in any way. And I resent the implication that we are." You lie through your teeth, not caring, because you know exactly how quickly your father could ensure Vaughn was reassigned, not just to another case, but to another city altogether if he wanted. You'd come apart at the seams without him, you know. You can no longer imagine a life without him, a life without the few moments of peace and truth he gives you....your life has become separated into time spent with him, and time spent waiting for the call, waiting beside the phone for the words, "Joey's Pizza?" Without him, your life is nothing. Without him, your life is chaos, a nightmare...he wakes you up from the nightmare, and brings order to the chaos.
You need him more than you need oxygen, you believe. You think you would last longer without air than without him.
"And in case you have any thoughts to reassigning Agent Vaughn, I assure you that there is no other officer I would be willing to work with," you add quickly.
"Fine. If you insist on denying the emotional attachment that you two have clearly formed, go ahead." He suspects you're lying, but let's the subject drop regardless.
"What are you doing here anyway?"
"Kendall wanted me to give you some information that the CIA just received on your mission."
He hands you a folder, and leaves, but not before making a parting comment.
"You both need to do something about your eyes."
"Sorry?"
"Your eyes. I can see your eyes, and so can everyone else. They betray you, Sydney. Never forget that."
And with that, he left, while you sat in confusion, pondering his words.
"Does he love you?" Your father's words jolt you out of your reverie.
"Yes," you say softly.
"Love is weakness in this profession, Sydney. Always remember that."
"He's the reason I get out of bed in the mornings," you say, throwing his words to Vaughn back in his face. "He's the reason why I'm not dead right now from a quest for revenge. He gives me something to fight for [he gives you a future], and he gives me something to live for. He keeps me sane, keeps me from going mad from all the lies, from everything in this twisted up thing I call a life. I held a gun to my head three weeks ago, Dad, and he was the only thing that stopped me from pulling the trigger [even though he was the reason why you had the gun to your head in the first place]. Can you tell me that that is a weakness?" Your words are carefully phrased, but spoken dangerously.
Your father sees the futility of arguing this point with you any further [doesn't want to argue it further, maybe?] and lets the subject slip.
"Just go talk to Mom, Dad. I don't care if you walk out of that place hating her, or loving her, or feeling nothing but contempt or pity for her. Go and see the woman who killed you when she died."
He starts to reply, but you're already nearly out the door, and cut off his protests.
"Just go and see her. Make your peace with her. Get some sort of closure, Dad. It's been nearly thirty years. She says she loves us, says she wanted to stay with us. You owe it to her, owe to the woman she was, and to the man she loved, to go and see her."
You're out of the door before he can say anything, and into Vaughn's arms [he waited for you, like he always does], not caring who sees you like this.
"Take me away from this life, Vaughn." You know as well as he does that he can't, but that doesn't stop you from wanting from it.
"Someday." You live by these words now. Someday...someday you'll be free.
He continues...."Someday I'll take you away from this twisted world, and we can be free. Free of the lies...free of everything. We'll be so happy, because we'll be together, and nothing else matters. I can see a thousand different lives we could live...but in all of them we're happy. We're married...we're not...we have children...we don't. We have a daughter who likes hockey...a son who likes reading....we have a big house in a small town somewhere, and you teach English at a college, and I practice law....we have a little house somewhere on the coast...you teach an elementary school class...I consult for the CIA still...there's so many opportunities, so many paths we can take that I'm sorry we only have one life to live together. But in all of them we're happy, because we're together, and we're in love."
His voice grows quieter, and he whispers in your ear, "When we take down SD-6, I'm going to give you my grandmother's engagement ring, and I'm going to ask you to marry me. That I can promise you."
You whisper back softly, "I can promise you in return that I'm going to say yes. And we're always happy in the lives I see as well."
Yes, you think to yourself, love can be a weakness, but it can also be a strength. This man, his love for you, his dreams for your future...this is your strength.
He's your salvation, and he's the reason that you're still alive, and he's the reason why you get up in the mornings, and he's the reason why you're still sane in this bizarre web of lies that you call your life.
Yes. He's your strength....he's your everything.
He's the reason you why you live, the reason you keep breathing.
And in the end, he's all that really matters in your life.