Title: Raw Precision
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: Post "The Telling"; be warned, it picks up immediately where ep leaves off.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Never will. Dream job is a writer on this show, but I'm only seventeen so I'll stick to fanfiction. Don't own anything else recognizable either. The only thing I have control of is Becky, and if you really want her (why would you want her?!) then you can have her.
Dedication: If my father reads the story, this is dedicated to him. If not, he's in SOOOO much trouble. You've been warned (on multiple occasions) Daddy.
Authors Note: This chapter seriously stinks IMHO. Feel free to disagree. Please review too. Thank you!
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"What's the point of Thursdays?" Sydney asked, glancing at Will curiously. The two of them sipped from matching styrofoam cups from Starbucks as they sat in the ops center.
"One day before Friday?" he shrugged.
"There's no point to Thursdays. I mean before, Thursdays equaled good television -"
"Sunday was better. ABC Sundays were the best," he protested as her grin grew and she nodded.
"Yeah, everyone liked Sunday evenings on ABC," she agreed. "Now it's just another day."
"Maybe your father's wrong. Maybe they should send you out into the field," he said suddenly shifting topics, as her eyes widened. "I don't like the idea Syd, but you're getting restless. Maybe you should be the one with the date tomorrow instead."
"I don't want to date yet," she said as she shook her head and sipped her coffee. In reality she didn't want to have to date again period. "Anyway, tomorrow night at the restaurant should be fun."
"You're going to do fine with Barnett you know."
Sydney's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Have you ever even had a session with Barnett?"
"I'm an analyst, no one cares about my state of mind," he grinned smugly. "How long are you going to avoid this Syd?"
A quick glance at her watch, and she answered, "Another two minutes."
"This woman can't be *that* bad."
"I'll remind you of that when they make you go see her," she reminded him as she rose to her feet.
"Good luck!" he called as she disappeared down the hallway.
Dr. Barnett's office was familiar in its sterile, cream-colored comforts. The doctor looked no more aged than the last time Sydney had seen her, although out of the corner of Sydney's eye she thought she saw a photo of a new grandchild on the desk. Barnett's warm, even voice instructed her to sit down as the doctor pulled her file and then sat down across from her. "Sydney," she spoke the name with a small smile, "It's nice to see you again. I never thought I'd have the pleasure."
Sydney smiled and adjusted her seat. Dr. Barnett wasn't a bad woman, certainly not a bad doctor, and she'd always listened to her when she needed a neutral sounding board. The doctor looked down at her file and then back at her beginning the session with, "You recently started back to work. How are you adjusting?"
"Fine," she smiled. "I'm good at my job. Being here makes me feel useful."
"More than if you were just at home waiting to hear about your case?" Dr. Barnett suggested. After a moment of consideration the brunette nodded. "You haven't been given a field-grade yet."
"Not yet."
"Would you like to get back into the field?"
"I'm not sure," she conceded. "I'd like to be able to find Sloane, to make him pay for what he did to me, but I'm not sure it's a good idea unless I know *exactly* what happened to me."
"The agency plans to take your regression therapy slowly. It could be months before we know the full scope of your ordeal. Would you be comfortable being out of the field that long?"
"I would hope that if the situation arose, and there was a possibility of Arvin Sloane being captured, the CIA would let me go. I can't judge how I'll feel in a few months from now, but I'm doing everything I can right now from my desk."
Clearly skeptical, the doctor asked, "And that's enough for you?"
"For right now," Sydney nodded.
"Your mother's recently turned herself into the CIA. How are you coping?"
"I'm fine," she insisted. "She wants to cooperate. We have no evidence to contradict her claims."
"You want to believe her."
"I want to find out what happened to me. I'll use *any* resources I can find to discover where I've been and bring Sloane to justice," she answered in a voice that steadily rose. "Just as it was before, working with my mother is a means to an end."
"An end to what Sydney? The Alliance is gone."
Her voice was low as she stated, "But Sloane isn't. The end to this *hell* that my life has become. I've lost two years, and if my mother in some small way can help me get that back, I'm going to use her."
"You think of her as your mother? Not Irina Derevko?"
"I've come to accept that whether I like it or not, she gave birth to me. I can't deny that in the strictest of terms that woman is my mother."
"She claims to have helped bring down the Alliance. Perhaps she did that to help free you?"
"I don't claim to know or understand that woman's motives. I don't think anyone can."
"Your father certainly has theories," Dr. Barnett spoke. Sydney looked briefly down at her hands then nodded at the doctor. "Two years is a long time Sydney. How are you adjusting to your father's condition?"
"He's still the man I've always known," she insisted. "Physically he's different, but he's no less the person I remember."
"Is it difficult for you? Seeing him in the wheelchair? Knowing Sloane did that to him?"
"What Sloane did to me… It makes me *hate* him, detest him, but when I think of what he did to the rest of my life… to Francie and Will, to Danny… my father," her voice dropped as she listed the lives Arvin Sloane had ruined. "I can deal with what he's done to me, it's what he's done to the people I love that makes me want him dead."
"So if he was brought into custody, you'd suggest the death penalty?"
"The death penalty wouldn't be a strong enough punishment. He's a criminal mastermind who has no concern beyond his own financial gain and self-serving motives. The *only* thing that made him human was his love for Emily, and in the end his quest for Rambaldi killed her."
"Emily Sloane. Do you still miss her?"
"For the majority of my life she was the only mother I knew," she recalled, the overhead lighting glittering off the pool of moisture in her eyes. Sydney took a deep breath and continued, "I know it's been over two years since she died, but I'm still struggling to adjust myself to that idea."
"That must be difficult for you, trying to reconcile how things that are so new to you are history to those around you."
"Yes," she nodded.
"You're staying with your father."
"I'm buying a place, but for the time being I am."
"You're still in the adjustment period."
"I'm adjusting well," she insisted.
"What about Agent Vaughn?"
The mention of him sent Sydney's eyes directly into that of Dr. Barnett's. "What about Agent Vaughn?"
"It must be difficult for you to be around him. You worked closely for several years. Of his own admittance, the two of you were romantically involved at the time of your disappearance, and you return to find him married."
"Agent Vaughn is my friend."
"Are you comfortable with that? Having a friend who was so intimately involved in your case, in your work with the CIA?"
"All of my friends are involved in my work. Dixon, Marshall, our contact originated at SD-6, and Will was my friend *before* he began to work for the government. I don't think my situation is that unusual, many people my age meet most of their friends in the workplace."
"Still Agent Bristow, yours is not the typical career."
"No," she agreed, a sound of bitter amusement escaping her throat. "It certainly is not."
"Your job is difficult Sydney, and dangerous, but you *are* good at it. Don't let this incident let you forget that."
"Incident?" Sydney struggled to contain her composure. "This wasn't some incident, it was two years of my life."
"In time you will recover the bulk of your memories."
Sydney wondered if there was a polite way to tell the well-intentioned doctor that bulk wasn't enough. The one thing she wanted back was not the memories; she wanted the unattainable time. One lesson she'd learned was that next to freedom, the priceless commodity that so many people took for granted was time.
"How are the sessions going? Have you had any negative reactions? Nightmares?"
"No," she shook her head. "I'm fine."
Dr. Barnett smiled and nodded. "Is there anything else you'd like to talk about right now Sydney? Something you feel I've overlooked?"
"No, I think we're fine."
"How are you feeling? Physically?"
"I'm okay," Sydney smiled. "I'm jogging, exercising, I don't feel out of shape."
"You're doing well Sydney. You know this will take time, but there's no evidence to indicate that you won't be able to return to the life you left behind," the doctor encouraged, trying to sooth her.
Unfortunately, Sydney knew what the medical chart in front of the doctor did not - the life she left behind had long ago crashed into extinction. She instead replied softly, "Thank you."
"My door is always open. We'll schedule another session for next week, but if you think of something, have a nightmare or just need to talk, I'm here."
"Thank you Dr. Barnett," Sydney said sincerely, leaning across to shake the woman's hand. She then stood and departed from the office.
Dinner that night was eaten at her father's home. Jack Bristow had uncharacteristically extended a dinner invitation not only to Will but to Marcus and Sarah Dixon as well. Even with his good-natured hospitality, Sydney wasn't surprised when the invitation wasn't extended to the Flinkmans, although Carrie had pregnancy yoga that night anyway. During the meal she relayed her meeting with Barnett, noting her father's neutral _expression throughout.
"Do you want to go back into the field Syd?" Dixon inquired.
"Eventually," she answered honestly.
"I don't think you should go back unless you have all your memories," Will suggested.
Dixon looked at the senior agent, "What do you think Jack?"
Jack looked at all of them before he looked back at his daughter. "This is a dangerous occupation, field grade or not. I trust Sydney's judgement. I know she'll make the right decision."
Surprised by his candor, his daughter smiled and looked down at her meal. "I'm fine for now where I am."
"I'm surprised Kendall hasn't put you back in the field already," Dixon conceded. "That man waits for no one."
"He'll wait until Sydney's prepared," Jack insisted, an edge obvious in the undercurrent of his voice. "This is not a process that even Director Kendall can speed up, no matter how highly he thinks of himself."
"You'll be back out there in no time Syd, just wait and see," Will insisted with a smile. "Tomorrow night should be good for you, just beware of some of those guys who come in by themselves."
"I think I can handle myself if someone hits on me Will," she laughed.
"What's going on tomorrow night?" Sarah inquired.
"I'm going to be managing the restaurant for Will. He's got a date," she explained and shot her best friend a playful smile.
"Are you sure it's a wise idea Sydney, to be out so late on your own?" Jack asked cautiously.
"Dad," Sydney began, slightly amused at her father's unnecessary concern, "I'll be fine. There are security cameras at the restaurant and the restaurant isn't too far from the house."
"I can come back after to close up with you," Will offered.
She shook her head, "That's not necessary. I can handle it. I *want* to handle it."
"If something comes up and you need anything, Sarah and I aren't too far away, you can always call," offered Dixon.
"Thank you," she smiled at them.
On her desk the next morning was a request that she go see her mother from Kendall. Vaughn arrived as she was putting her belongings down and sighing at the memo.
"Where are you going?" he whispered, relieved when her body stopped seconds before it breezed by his work area.
"Kendall wants me to see my mother. Apparently, making sure she continues to cooperate is part of my assignment," she explained.
The wrinkles creased on his forehead as he asked in concern, "Are you okay Syd?"
"Sometimes I get sick and tired of feeling as if I'm the CIA's puppet," she shrugged.
"I could talk to Kendall or your father -"
"It won't make a difference. This is my job." She looked around before she continued, "The ironic thing is, I chose to continue here."
"This isn't an easy profession Syd, but you're good at what you do," Vaughn reminded her.
"I know." She sent him a short smile. "I should go," she explained. He nodded and watched her disappear towards her mother's cell.
The click of the gates sprang Irina to her feet as she waited to see her visitor's face. In custody less than a week, she'd seen Sydney far less than she had hoped for. They'd questioned her and forced her to undergo a lie detector test, only to be displeased that it showed her honesty. That could all be manipulated, she remembered as her daughter came into view. Although her daughter looked weary to see her, she still smiled as she approached the glass.
"The Intel you gave the CIA was correct. We were able to get in and out of Amsterdam and Switzerland without any problems. We've also frozen all of your assets that we uncovered. We're hopeful that it might lead us to Sloane or Sark."
"If anything you find links my activities to Sark or Sloane over the past two years, it's purely coincidental."
"We'll see," Sydney said folding her arms. "Since you're cooperating, Kendall's agreed to give you fifteen minutes up on the roof two times a week, similar to what you formerly had."
"Thank you for putting in the request for me Sydney."
"I didn't. Dad did."
For a moment, a rainbow of emotions waltzed across Irina's features, ranging from obvious surprise to something Sydney didn't dare put her finger on. Finally, a mask of neutrality, a poker face mirroring the famed Bristow poker face, was gelled into place. "That was very kind of him," she commented as her daughter nodded. "How are you Sydney? You look tired."
"I'm fine."
"Your father? He's doing well?"
"Everyone's fine."
"Your my daughter Sydney," Irina started, shaking her head, "I've missed so much of your life, events that made you the person you've become… and those I can never get back. But I can still tell you're not fine. This pain *will* end. That's the beauty of life. No matter how bad we feel, no matter how much pain we suffer, it never lasts forever."
"I'm fine," Sydney repeated.
"I wish I could go through this for you," Irina commented as her eyes softened. For an instant, Sydney even wondered if her mother was about to cry. "You do not deserve this… I've been sitting in here, thinking. I still can't help but wonder what would have happened if I had taken you with me when you were a little girl. If perhaps I could have spared you from this. Then I remember the life you've had. Sydney… and I know I couldn't have taken you from your father. You are all he has. If I had taken you, your life would have been lived in secret, always looking over your shoulder… Perhaps you blame me for all of this," she suggested. "I wouldn't hold it against you. If I'd been a better mother, a stronger person, maybe I could have prevented some of this, saved you from Sloane. You are my daughter, and if I could take away any of the pain I've caused you, I would."
Sydney nodded and whispered, "Thank you."
"You should go. You have work to do," Irina realized.
Without hesitation her daughter nodded. "Thank you for your cooperation," she remembered. The older woman smiled with a curt nod as her daughter disappeared through the gates.
Becky had left early Friday afternoon, leaving the CIA building and driving directly to her sister's. Donovan had no more energy than usual, and a quick walk through the park left him exhausted by the early evening. That left Vaughn alone in the apartment. His wife had thoughtfully left dinner for him, but he wasn't in the mood for whatever leftover combination she'd whipped up for him. In addition, he still felt a nugget of guilt. Things were not going particularly well for them at the moment, and he knew he was the origin of those problems. In his mind he even carried some weight for the only official reprimand to ever be in her file. While his mind raced, his body refused to sit still in his lounge chair.
By then it was late evening, well past dinnertime, and NHL Tonight on ESPN provided the only light in the room. The apartment had only been theirs for less than three months, and they hadn't even been married for two. They'd done the decorating together before their wedding, putting their photos and books and music together, joining their lives. Becky was a quick and passionate reader, and it was one of the few hobbies that both she and Sydney enjoyed. Even with that in mind, their taste in literature wasn't all that similar. Becky had nearly every book from the Oprah Winfery Book Club, plus the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books that had belonged to her parents. There were books by Stephen King, Patricia Cornwell and John Grisham alongside Gray's Anatomy. Books by Sophocles and Virgil were stuffed in with more medical texts.
If Sydney's and Becky's literary tastes were slightly different, in music they had little in common at all. When they'd first moved in together, he had wondered if Becky owned every classical CD available at the music store. Still, she managed to come home with more. Next to her Mozart there were copies of Dixieland music and Gospel, something he could always depend on her listening to on Sunday mornings. Sydney had enjoyed all types of music, but she'd never been particularly interested in classical music. That was compounded with the memory of how she'd had taken amusement and interest in his own leniency towards Guns 'N Roses, the Police and the necessity of having to listen to Springsteen at least every once in awhile.
The topper for him was always Star Wars. In his mind Star Wars was one of the best, if not THE best, movie ever made. Becky *hated* Star Wars, and preferred black and white movies, especially silent films. Then there was Sydney. While she wasn't as enthusiastic about Star Wars as he was, she enjoyed it. One weekend she'd even rented the Trilogy for them to watch, although he clearly remembered that they had never made it that far out of the bedroom.
Guilt and dejection set back in as he sank into the lounge chair. The house barely felt like his own, and he felt even worse for comparing the two women. Still, as he glanced around at the photos, there was no sign of Sydney, while there were three photos of Brandon in clear sight. At that moment the apartment felt suffocating. Finally he pulled to his feet, nearly tripping over a snoring Donovan. Without a second thought he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, a set destination already in mind.
On the other side of town, Sydney felt proud of herself on her first night as acting manager of the restaurant. One of the waitresses had called in sick and she'd been shoved into the temporary role. Still, the customers were pleasant and she'd even picked up a few extra dollars in tips before the replacement waitresses arrived around seven thirty. By then the dinner crowd had slimmed out, and all that was really left to serve was drinks, dessert and coffee.
By eight the restaurant was running smoothly. Sydney had taken over at the bar while most of the patrons were being cared for at tables. "Here's your rum and coke," she smiled as she placed the drink in front of the newest customer. He was handsome, with slightly unruly dark brown hair and big blue eyes. In another lifetime, she knew she would have found him attractive.
"So what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?"
It took all of her will not to roll her eyes at the cheesy line coming from a slightly intoxicated man. Mentally she gave herself a pat on the back for using more coke and less rum in his latest drink. Then she allowed the partial lie to role from her tongue, "I own the place."
Perhaps it wasn't the *whole* truth. Will now owned it, but as good friends she suspected it could qualify as joint property. "Your boyfriend must be jealous, you being out all hours around plenty of attractive men like myself," he smiled.
Chills ran down her spine as she recalled the man who'd once licked her face. For some reason, this man had suddenly brought that image to mind. Once again another lie flowed out without any trouble, "My husband's not the jealous type."
"Oh," he sighed and began to nurse his drink. Sydney smiled at him and returned to her work.
That was the only slightly unpleasant incident she'd encountered throughout the evening. The wait staff was fun to work with, mostly college kids and struggling actors. Few of them had ever even met Francie, and none of them questioned her excuse that she'd been away for two years working on her graduate studies. By ten thirty it was obvious they wouldn't be expecting any more patrons for the night, and she sent everyone home for the weekend. Finally alone, she turned up the radio and began to clean up.
From the moment he stepped out of the car, having parked in front of the restaurant, he caught the notes of a familiar tune. As his footsteps approached the door he had to smile. The song was clearly the Everly Brothers' "All I Have to Do is Dream". His wife hated the song, but his mother had loved it as a child. Growing up, he gave up trying to count how many times he had heard that song. Every time it managed to put a bittersweet smile on his face.
He stepped inside the nearly empty restaurant and easily spotted her. Alone in the restaurant, her back was to the door as she sang along with the song. With a dust rag slung over her shoulder he suspected she was cleaning up for the night as she set up the coffee maker. Although she was dressed only in jeans and a black tank top, and her hair in a ponytail, he knew he'd never seen anything as beautiful. By sheer luck she managed to not notice his presence as she sang, and it wasn't until after her performance that he spoke.
"I thought I'd find you at the pier," he commented as she sprung around and smiled.
"Nah. A clear night like tonight I'd be at the observatory," she corrected, quick to hide her surprise. "Are you hungry?"
"No thanks," he dismissed and took a seat at the bar. "Is this a bad time?"
Sydney shook her head and tossed a sponge onto the top of the bar. "Just cleaning up. Will's got a date tonight, so I was in charge."
"Stephanie, right?" he asked as she nodded.
"He was really excited, I'm sure I'll get to hear all about it tomorrow," she explained. For a few moments he just watched her concentration as she finished wiping every surface clean and then drying it down. With a smile she excused herself into the kitchen for a moment and then came back out, a tired smile on her face. "Where's Becky?"
"She went to visit her sister for the weekend," he spoke. "How did your visit with your mother go?"
"It was fine. As long as she continues to cooperate I'll have a standing order from Kendall to see her."
"Do you think she'll continue to cooperate?"
Sydney sighed and dropped her eyes from his, "I hope so," she confessed. Then she looked up to his eyes, "I'm sorry Vaughn, I know your father deserves justice but if she can -"
"If she can help the CIA find Sloane, help you find out what happened, that's what's important right now," he corrected. With a dismissive sigh, her shoulders seemed to deflate as she nodded. "What's wrong Syd?" he asked softly, clearly reading her troubled _expression.
Vaughn's eyes tracked her as she picked up her bag and walked around to sit next to him. "I was going through more of my things today. I needed to find my jeans, something comfortable for tonight," she explained. He nodded as Sydney reached into her bag. "I found this," she explained, pulling out a black velvet box. "Open it," she requested. To no surprise he opened the box to reveal the familiar diamond Danny had given her years earlier.
"In the midst of everything that's happened to me, I actually forgot about Danny, forgot about how all of this was about finding justice for him…" She picked up the diamond and examined it. "I loved Danny very much. When I was a little girl, he was the type of man I always imagined marrying. Nothing like my father. From the moment you met him he was funny and sweet… He loved kids. I remember he wanted a big family, which was so hard for me to imagine. After my experience with my father, it was hard for me to imagine a man *wanting* children…" She paused as Vaughn remained silent, patiently waiting for her to express what she needed to share. Danny was a subject he'd always been curious about, and if she wanted to talk now he'd gladly listen.
"He was so romantic… He'd bring me flowers and write poetry on those little Post-It notes and stick them to the mirrors," she recalled with a smile. "When he proposed he actually got down on his knees in the middle of the quad and sang 'Build Me Up Buttercup'. It was a song we'd heard on our first date," she explained. "I was so happy, I could never have imagined anyone doing something like that for me. If it had been anyone else I probably would have been embarrassed. I said yes, and I was so happy. The weird thing is, even when I said yes I knew it wouldn't last. My happiness, I knew it wasn't forever. I feel horrible saying it now," her head shook as she closed the ring box. "I knew it wasn't going to last Vaughn, I knew it didn't have a real chance at lasting. Still, I said yes, and I just waited for the other shoe to drop," she explained. Then she added in a soft voice, "Eventually it did. When it did, the ceiling caved in along with it."
"Syd…"
"I never told you much about him."
"I never knew anything other than what you wrote in the debrief," Vaughn confirmed. "Are you okay?"
"I'm never going to be that person again Vaughn. I'm never going to be that naive person who believes she works for the good guys."
"We brought down the Alliance Syd, and we *will* bring Sloane to justice. That was all for Danny."
"It wasn't," her head shook. "That's the worst part. Somewhere along the way, bringing down the Alliance stopped being about Danny. Yes, he was always there, in the back of my mind. He always will be. Instead it became about me, I needed the Alliance gone so I could have the life *I* wanted…"
Vaughn reached over to grab her hand. "Danny would be proud of you Syd."
Sydney looked down at the black velvet box in one hand and down at the other hand that cradled hers. "I hope he is."
"His death wasn't your fault Syd, it never was. It's not your fault what happened to Danny or Francie or Noah or Emily or your father or Will."
"Think about that list though Vaughn," she looked at him suddenly. "Maybe it's not my fault, but those are six people that have been in my life, six people I've *loved* and they've all either died or been hurt because of some stupid idea I had that I could be a spy at nineteen."
"You were nineteen years old Syd, and you weren't the one who hurt those people. Noah chose his own fate. He was an adult, he knew what he was doing. Don't forget that he knew who you were, you weren't the one wearing a mask. Sloane is the one who hurt those people Syd, not you. He's the one who ruins lives, you're just as much a pawn in his game as they are."
"I went to graduate school, I would barely sleep so I could take my classes and go on my missions… I'm starting to think I'm never going to be a teacher. I can't quit though, I can't stop until I know Sloane and Sark are dead."
"You're going to be a teacher one day Syd."
"Sometimes I'm not even sure that it's what I want to do. My entire life I wanted to be a teacher because of my mother, and now I'm a spy essentially because of my parents. Why do I feel doomed to do this? It feels like a family business."
Vaughn squeezed her fingers and smiled. "It's more interesting than running a hardware store."
"It is," she laughed. She then glanced around the restaurant and back at the clock, "I should close up."
Vaughn nodded and dropped her fingers as they slowly stood. Instead of leaving, he waited until she returned from turning off the kitchen lights, and watched as she slipped on her coat. "What are you and Will doing this weekend?" he asked as she put together her belongings.
"I'll probably spend tomorrow listening to him either gloat or groan over tonight, depending on the outcome," she explained as he chuckled. "What are you doing?"
"Hitting the ice with some of the guys tomorrow," he answered.
"Good luck," she smiled.
"Have a nice weekend Syd." He stood, watching her lock up the restaurant.
"You too," she waved as she walked to her car. With one last wave she got in and drove off into the night. After a few moments of watching the nearly empty street, he got into his car and did the same.
A/N: Please R&R. Thank you!
Author: UConnFan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: Post "The Telling"; be warned, it picks up immediately where ep leaves off.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own. Never will. Dream job is a writer on this show, but I'm only seventeen so I'll stick to fanfiction. Don't own anything else recognizable either. The only thing I have control of is Becky, and if you really want her (why would you want her?!) then you can have her.
Dedication: If my father reads the story, this is dedicated to him. If not, he's in SOOOO much trouble. You've been warned (on multiple occasions) Daddy.
Authors Note: This chapter seriously stinks IMHO. Feel free to disagree. Please review too. Thank you!
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"What's the point of Thursdays?" Sydney asked, glancing at Will curiously. The two of them sipped from matching styrofoam cups from Starbucks as they sat in the ops center.
"One day before Friday?" he shrugged.
"There's no point to Thursdays. I mean before, Thursdays equaled good television -"
"Sunday was better. ABC Sundays were the best," he protested as her grin grew and she nodded.
"Yeah, everyone liked Sunday evenings on ABC," she agreed. "Now it's just another day."
"Maybe your father's wrong. Maybe they should send you out into the field," he said suddenly shifting topics, as her eyes widened. "I don't like the idea Syd, but you're getting restless. Maybe you should be the one with the date tomorrow instead."
"I don't want to date yet," she said as she shook her head and sipped her coffee. In reality she didn't want to have to date again period. "Anyway, tomorrow night at the restaurant should be fun."
"You're going to do fine with Barnett you know."
Sydney's eyes twinkled mischievously. "Have you ever even had a session with Barnett?"
"I'm an analyst, no one cares about my state of mind," he grinned smugly. "How long are you going to avoid this Syd?"
A quick glance at her watch, and she answered, "Another two minutes."
"This woman can't be *that* bad."
"I'll remind you of that when they make you go see her," she reminded him as she rose to her feet.
"Good luck!" he called as she disappeared down the hallway.
Dr. Barnett's office was familiar in its sterile, cream-colored comforts. The doctor looked no more aged than the last time Sydney had seen her, although out of the corner of Sydney's eye she thought she saw a photo of a new grandchild on the desk. Barnett's warm, even voice instructed her to sit down as the doctor pulled her file and then sat down across from her. "Sydney," she spoke the name with a small smile, "It's nice to see you again. I never thought I'd have the pleasure."
Sydney smiled and adjusted her seat. Dr. Barnett wasn't a bad woman, certainly not a bad doctor, and she'd always listened to her when she needed a neutral sounding board. The doctor looked down at her file and then back at her beginning the session with, "You recently started back to work. How are you adjusting?"
"Fine," she smiled. "I'm good at my job. Being here makes me feel useful."
"More than if you were just at home waiting to hear about your case?" Dr. Barnett suggested. After a moment of consideration the brunette nodded. "You haven't been given a field-grade yet."
"Not yet."
"Would you like to get back into the field?"
"I'm not sure," she conceded. "I'd like to be able to find Sloane, to make him pay for what he did to me, but I'm not sure it's a good idea unless I know *exactly* what happened to me."
"The agency plans to take your regression therapy slowly. It could be months before we know the full scope of your ordeal. Would you be comfortable being out of the field that long?"
"I would hope that if the situation arose, and there was a possibility of Arvin Sloane being captured, the CIA would let me go. I can't judge how I'll feel in a few months from now, but I'm doing everything I can right now from my desk."
Clearly skeptical, the doctor asked, "And that's enough for you?"
"For right now," Sydney nodded.
"Your mother's recently turned herself into the CIA. How are you coping?"
"I'm fine," she insisted. "She wants to cooperate. We have no evidence to contradict her claims."
"You want to believe her."
"I want to find out what happened to me. I'll use *any* resources I can find to discover where I've been and bring Sloane to justice," she answered in a voice that steadily rose. "Just as it was before, working with my mother is a means to an end."
"An end to what Sydney? The Alliance is gone."
Her voice was low as she stated, "But Sloane isn't. The end to this *hell* that my life has become. I've lost two years, and if my mother in some small way can help me get that back, I'm going to use her."
"You think of her as your mother? Not Irina Derevko?"
"I've come to accept that whether I like it or not, she gave birth to me. I can't deny that in the strictest of terms that woman is my mother."
"She claims to have helped bring down the Alliance. Perhaps she did that to help free you?"
"I don't claim to know or understand that woman's motives. I don't think anyone can."
"Your father certainly has theories," Dr. Barnett spoke. Sydney looked briefly down at her hands then nodded at the doctor. "Two years is a long time Sydney. How are you adjusting to your father's condition?"
"He's still the man I've always known," she insisted. "Physically he's different, but he's no less the person I remember."
"Is it difficult for you? Seeing him in the wheelchair? Knowing Sloane did that to him?"
"What Sloane did to me… It makes me *hate* him, detest him, but when I think of what he did to the rest of my life… to Francie and Will, to Danny… my father," her voice dropped as she listed the lives Arvin Sloane had ruined. "I can deal with what he's done to me, it's what he's done to the people I love that makes me want him dead."
"So if he was brought into custody, you'd suggest the death penalty?"
"The death penalty wouldn't be a strong enough punishment. He's a criminal mastermind who has no concern beyond his own financial gain and self-serving motives. The *only* thing that made him human was his love for Emily, and in the end his quest for Rambaldi killed her."
"Emily Sloane. Do you still miss her?"
"For the majority of my life she was the only mother I knew," she recalled, the overhead lighting glittering off the pool of moisture in her eyes. Sydney took a deep breath and continued, "I know it's been over two years since she died, but I'm still struggling to adjust myself to that idea."
"That must be difficult for you, trying to reconcile how things that are so new to you are history to those around you."
"Yes," she nodded.
"You're staying with your father."
"I'm buying a place, but for the time being I am."
"You're still in the adjustment period."
"I'm adjusting well," she insisted.
"What about Agent Vaughn?"
The mention of him sent Sydney's eyes directly into that of Dr. Barnett's. "What about Agent Vaughn?"
"It must be difficult for you to be around him. You worked closely for several years. Of his own admittance, the two of you were romantically involved at the time of your disappearance, and you return to find him married."
"Agent Vaughn is my friend."
"Are you comfortable with that? Having a friend who was so intimately involved in your case, in your work with the CIA?"
"All of my friends are involved in my work. Dixon, Marshall, our contact originated at SD-6, and Will was my friend *before* he began to work for the government. I don't think my situation is that unusual, many people my age meet most of their friends in the workplace."
"Still Agent Bristow, yours is not the typical career."
"No," she agreed, a sound of bitter amusement escaping her throat. "It certainly is not."
"Your job is difficult Sydney, and dangerous, but you *are* good at it. Don't let this incident let you forget that."
"Incident?" Sydney struggled to contain her composure. "This wasn't some incident, it was two years of my life."
"In time you will recover the bulk of your memories."
Sydney wondered if there was a polite way to tell the well-intentioned doctor that bulk wasn't enough. The one thing she wanted back was not the memories; she wanted the unattainable time. One lesson she'd learned was that next to freedom, the priceless commodity that so many people took for granted was time.
"How are the sessions going? Have you had any negative reactions? Nightmares?"
"No," she shook her head. "I'm fine."
Dr. Barnett smiled and nodded. "Is there anything else you'd like to talk about right now Sydney? Something you feel I've overlooked?"
"No, I think we're fine."
"How are you feeling? Physically?"
"I'm okay," Sydney smiled. "I'm jogging, exercising, I don't feel out of shape."
"You're doing well Sydney. You know this will take time, but there's no evidence to indicate that you won't be able to return to the life you left behind," the doctor encouraged, trying to sooth her.
Unfortunately, Sydney knew what the medical chart in front of the doctor did not - the life she left behind had long ago crashed into extinction. She instead replied softly, "Thank you."
"My door is always open. We'll schedule another session for next week, but if you think of something, have a nightmare or just need to talk, I'm here."
"Thank you Dr. Barnett," Sydney said sincerely, leaning across to shake the woman's hand. She then stood and departed from the office.
Dinner that night was eaten at her father's home. Jack Bristow had uncharacteristically extended a dinner invitation not only to Will but to Marcus and Sarah Dixon as well. Even with his good-natured hospitality, Sydney wasn't surprised when the invitation wasn't extended to the Flinkmans, although Carrie had pregnancy yoga that night anyway. During the meal she relayed her meeting with Barnett, noting her father's neutral _expression throughout.
"Do you want to go back into the field Syd?" Dixon inquired.
"Eventually," she answered honestly.
"I don't think you should go back unless you have all your memories," Will suggested.
Dixon looked at the senior agent, "What do you think Jack?"
Jack looked at all of them before he looked back at his daughter. "This is a dangerous occupation, field grade or not. I trust Sydney's judgement. I know she'll make the right decision."
Surprised by his candor, his daughter smiled and looked down at her meal. "I'm fine for now where I am."
"I'm surprised Kendall hasn't put you back in the field already," Dixon conceded. "That man waits for no one."
"He'll wait until Sydney's prepared," Jack insisted, an edge obvious in the undercurrent of his voice. "This is not a process that even Director Kendall can speed up, no matter how highly he thinks of himself."
"You'll be back out there in no time Syd, just wait and see," Will insisted with a smile. "Tomorrow night should be good for you, just beware of some of those guys who come in by themselves."
"I think I can handle myself if someone hits on me Will," she laughed.
"What's going on tomorrow night?" Sarah inquired.
"I'm going to be managing the restaurant for Will. He's got a date," she explained and shot her best friend a playful smile.
"Are you sure it's a wise idea Sydney, to be out so late on your own?" Jack asked cautiously.
"Dad," Sydney began, slightly amused at her father's unnecessary concern, "I'll be fine. There are security cameras at the restaurant and the restaurant isn't too far from the house."
"I can come back after to close up with you," Will offered.
She shook her head, "That's not necessary. I can handle it. I *want* to handle it."
"If something comes up and you need anything, Sarah and I aren't too far away, you can always call," offered Dixon.
"Thank you," she smiled at them.
On her desk the next morning was a request that she go see her mother from Kendall. Vaughn arrived as she was putting her belongings down and sighing at the memo.
"Where are you going?" he whispered, relieved when her body stopped seconds before it breezed by his work area.
"Kendall wants me to see my mother. Apparently, making sure she continues to cooperate is part of my assignment," she explained.
The wrinkles creased on his forehead as he asked in concern, "Are you okay Syd?"
"Sometimes I get sick and tired of feeling as if I'm the CIA's puppet," she shrugged.
"I could talk to Kendall or your father -"
"It won't make a difference. This is my job." She looked around before she continued, "The ironic thing is, I chose to continue here."
"This isn't an easy profession Syd, but you're good at what you do," Vaughn reminded her.
"I know." She sent him a short smile. "I should go," she explained. He nodded and watched her disappear towards her mother's cell.
The click of the gates sprang Irina to her feet as she waited to see her visitor's face. In custody less than a week, she'd seen Sydney far less than she had hoped for. They'd questioned her and forced her to undergo a lie detector test, only to be displeased that it showed her honesty. That could all be manipulated, she remembered as her daughter came into view. Although her daughter looked weary to see her, she still smiled as she approached the glass.
"The Intel you gave the CIA was correct. We were able to get in and out of Amsterdam and Switzerland without any problems. We've also frozen all of your assets that we uncovered. We're hopeful that it might lead us to Sloane or Sark."
"If anything you find links my activities to Sark or Sloane over the past two years, it's purely coincidental."
"We'll see," Sydney said folding her arms. "Since you're cooperating, Kendall's agreed to give you fifteen minutes up on the roof two times a week, similar to what you formerly had."
"Thank you for putting in the request for me Sydney."
"I didn't. Dad did."
For a moment, a rainbow of emotions waltzed across Irina's features, ranging from obvious surprise to something Sydney didn't dare put her finger on. Finally, a mask of neutrality, a poker face mirroring the famed Bristow poker face, was gelled into place. "That was very kind of him," she commented as her daughter nodded. "How are you Sydney? You look tired."
"I'm fine."
"Your father? He's doing well?"
"Everyone's fine."
"Your my daughter Sydney," Irina started, shaking her head, "I've missed so much of your life, events that made you the person you've become… and those I can never get back. But I can still tell you're not fine. This pain *will* end. That's the beauty of life. No matter how bad we feel, no matter how much pain we suffer, it never lasts forever."
"I'm fine," Sydney repeated.
"I wish I could go through this for you," Irina commented as her eyes softened. For an instant, Sydney even wondered if her mother was about to cry. "You do not deserve this… I've been sitting in here, thinking. I still can't help but wonder what would have happened if I had taken you with me when you were a little girl. If perhaps I could have spared you from this. Then I remember the life you've had. Sydney… and I know I couldn't have taken you from your father. You are all he has. If I had taken you, your life would have been lived in secret, always looking over your shoulder… Perhaps you blame me for all of this," she suggested. "I wouldn't hold it against you. If I'd been a better mother, a stronger person, maybe I could have prevented some of this, saved you from Sloane. You are my daughter, and if I could take away any of the pain I've caused you, I would."
Sydney nodded and whispered, "Thank you."
"You should go. You have work to do," Irina realized.
Without hesitation her daughter nodded. "Thank you for your cooperation," she remembered. The older woman smiled with a curt nod as her daughter disappeared through the gates.
Becky had left early Friday afternoon, leaving the CIA building and driving directly to her sister's. Donovan had no more energy than usual, and a quick walk through the park left him exhausted by the early evening. That left Vaughn alone in the apartment. His wife had thoughtfully left dinner for him, but he wasn't in the mood for whatever leftover combination she'd whipped up for him. In addition, he still felt a nugget of guilt. Things were not going particularly well for them at the moment, and he knew he was the origin of those problems. In his mind he even carried some weight for the only official reprimand to ever be in her file. While his mind raced, his body refused to sit still in his lounge chair.
By then it was late evening, well past dinnertime, and NHL Tonight on ESPN provided the only light in the room. The apartment had only been theirs for less than three months, and they hadn't even been married for two. They'd done the decorating together before their wedding, putting their photos and books and music together, joining their lives. Becky was a quick and passionate reader, and it was one of the few hobbies that both she and Sydney enjoyed. Even with that in mind, their taste in literature wasn't all that similar. Becky had nearly every book from the Oprah Winfery Book Club, plus the Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books that had belonged to her parents. There were books by Stephen King, Patricia Cornwell and John Grisham alongside Gray's Anatomy. Books by Sophocles and Virgil were stuffed in with more medical texts.
If Sydney's and Becky's literary tastes were slightly different, in music they had little in common at all. When they'd first moved in together, he had wondered if Becky owned every classical CD available at the music store. Still, she managed to come home with more. Next to her Mozart there were copies of Dixieland music and Gospel, something he could always depend on her listening to on Sunday mornings. Sydney had enjoyed all types of music, but she'd never been particularly interested in classical music. That was compounded with the memory of how she'd had taken amusement and interest in his own leniency towards Guns 'N Roses, the Police and the necessity of having to listen to Springsteen at least every once in awhile.
The topper for him was always Star Wars. In his mind Star Wars was one of the best, if not THE best, movie ever made. Becky *hated* Star Wars, and preferred black and white movies, especially silent films. Then there was Sydney. While she wasn't as enthusiastic about Star Wars as he was, she enjoyed it. One weekend she'd even rented the Trilogy for them to watch, although he clearly remembered that they had never made it that far out of the bedroom.
Guilt and dejection set back in as he sank into the lounge chair. The house barely felt like his own, and he felt even worse for comparing the two women. Still, as he glanced around at the photos, there was no sign of Sydney, while there were three photos of Brandon in clear sight. At that moment the apartment felt suffocating. Finally he pulled to his feet, nearly tripping over a snoring Donovan. Without a second thought he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, a set destination already in mind.
On the other side of town, Sydney felt proud of herself on her first night as acting manager of the restaurant. One of the waitresses had called in sick and she'd been shoved into the temporary role. Still, the customers were pleasant and she'd even picked up a few extra dollars in tips before the replacement waitresses arrived around seven thirty. By then the dinner crowd had slimmed out, and all that was really left to serve was drinks, dessert and coffee.
By eight the restaurant was running smoothly. Sydney had taken over at the bar while most of the patrons were being cared for at tables. "Here's your rum and coke," she smiled as she placed the drink in front of the newest customer. He was handsome, with slightly unruly dark brown hair and big blue eyes. In another lifetime, she knew she would have found him attractive.
"So what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?"
It took all of her will not to roll her eyes at the cheesy line coming from a slightly intoxicated man. Mentally she gave herself a pat on the back for using more coke and less rum in his latest drink. Then she allowed the partial lie to role from her tongue, "I own the place."
Perhaps it wasn't the *whole* truth. Will now owned it, but as good friends she suspected it could qualify as joint property. "Your boyfriend must be jealous, you being out all hours around plenty of attractive men like myself," he smiled.
Chills ran down her spine as she recalled the man who'd once licked her face. For some reason, this man had suddenly brought that image to mind. Once again another lie flowed out without any trouble, "My husband's not the jealous type."
"Oh," he sighed and began to nurse his drink. Sydney smiled at him and returned to her work.
That was the only slightly unpleasant incident she'd encountered throughout the evening. The wait staff was fun to work with, mostly college kids and struggling actors. Few of them had ever even met Francie, and none of them questioned her excuse that she'd been away for two years working on her graduate studies. By ten thirty it was obvious they wouldn't be expecting any more patrons for the night, and she sent everyone home for the weekend. Finally alone, she turned up the radio and began to clean up.
From the moment he stepped out of the car, having parked in front of the restaurant, he caught the notes of a familiar tune. As his footsteps approached the door he had to smile. The song was clearly the Everly Brothers' "All I Have to Do is Dream". His wife hated the song, but his mother had loved it as a child. Growing up, he gave up trying to count how many times he had heard that song. Every time it managed to put a bittersweet smile on his face.
He stepped inside the nearly empty restaurant and easily spotted her. Alone in the restaurant, her back was to the door as she sang along with the song. With a dust rag slung over her shoulder he suspected she was cleaning up for the night as she set up the coffee maker. Although she was dressed only in jeans and a black tank top, and her hair in a ponytail, he knew he'd never seen anything as beautiful. By sheer luck she managed to not notice his presence as she sang, and it wasn't until after her performance that he spoke.
"I thought I'd find you at the pier," he commented as she sprung around and smiled.
"Nah. A clear night like tonight I'd be at the observatory," she corrected, quick to hide her surprise. "Are you hungry?"
"No thanks," he dismissed and took a seat at the bar. "Is this a bad time?"
Sydney shook her head and tossed a sponge onto the top of the bar. "Just cleaning up. Will's got a date tonight, so I was in charge."
"Stephanie, right?" he asked as she nodded.
"He was really excited, I'm sure I'll get to hear all about it tomorrow," she explained. For a few moments he just watched her concentration as she finished wiping every surface clean and then drying it down. With a smile she excused herself into the kitchen for a moment and then came back out, a tired smile on her face. "Where's Becky?"
"She went to visit her sister for the weekend," he spoke. "How did your visit with your mother go?"
"It was fine. As long as she continues to cooperate I'll have a standing order from Kendall to see her."
"Do you think she'll continue to cooperate?"
Sydney sighed and dropped her eyes from his, "I hope so," she confessed. Then she looked up to his eyes, "I'm sorry Vaughn, I know your father deserves justice but if she can -"
"If she can help the CIA find Sloane, help you find out what happened, that's what's important right now," he corrected. With a dismissive sigh, her shoulders seemed to deflate as she nodded. "What's wrong Syd?" he asked softly, clearly reading her troubled _expression.
Vaughn's eyes tracked her as she picked up her bag and walked around to sit next to him. "I was going through more of my things today. I needed to find my jeans, something comfortable for tonight," she explained. He nodded as Sydney reached into her bag. "I found this," she explained, pulling out a black velvet box. "Open it," she requested. To no surprise he opened the box to reveal the familiar diamond Danny had given her years earlier.
"In the midst of everything that's happened to me, I actually forgot about Danny, forgot about how all of this was about finding justice for him…" She picked up the diamond and examined it. "I loved Danny very much. When I was a little girl, he was the type of man I always imagined marrying. Nothing like my father. From the moment you met him he was funny and sweet… He loved kids. I remember he wanted a big family, which was so hard for me to imagine. After my experience with my father, it was hard for me to imagine a man *wanting* children…" She paused as Vaughn remained silent, patiently waiting for her to express what she needed to share. Danny was a subject he'd always been curious about, and if she wanted to talk now he'd gladly listen.
"He was so romantic… He'd bring me flowers and write poetry on those little Post-It notes and stick them to the mirrors," she recalled with a smile. "When he proposed he actually got down on his knees in the middle of the quad and sang 'Build Me Up Buttercup'. It was a song we'd heard on our first date," she explained. "I was so happy, I could never have imagined anyone doing something like that for me. If it had been anyone else I probably would have been embarrassed. I said yes, and I was so happy. The weird thing is, even when I said yes I knew it wouldn't last. My happiness, I knew it wasn't forever. I feel horrible saying it now," her head shook as she closed the ring box. "I knew it wasn't going to last Vaughn, I knew it didn't have a real chance at lasting. Still, I said yes, and I just waited for the other shoe to drop," she explained. Then she added in a soft voice, "Eventually it did. When it did, the ceiling caved in along with it."
"Syd…"
"I never told you much about him."
"I never knew anything other than what you wrote in the debrief," Vaughn confirmed. "Are you okay?"
"I'm never going to be that person again Vaughn. I'm never going to be that naive person who believes she works for the good guys."
"We brought down the Alliance Syd, and we *will* bring Sloane to justice. That was all for Danny."
"It wasn't," her head shook. "That's the worst part. Somewhere along the way, bringing down the Alliance stopped being about Danny. Yes, he was always there, in the back of my mind. He always will be. Instead it became about me, I needed the Alliance gone so I could have the life *I* wanted…"
Vaughn reached over to grab her hand. "Danny would be proud of you Syd."
Sydney looked down at the black velvet box in one hand and down at the other hand that cradled hers. "I hope he is."
"His death wasn't your fault Syd, it never was. It's not your fault what happened to Danny or Francie or Noah or Emily or your father or Will."
"Think about that list though Vaughn," she looked at him suddenly. "Maybe it's not my fault, but those are six people that have been in my life, six people I've *loved* and they've all either died or been hurt because of some stupid idea I had that I could be a spy at nineteen."
"You were nineteen years old Syd, and you weren't the one who hurt those people. Noah chose his own fate. He was an adult, he knew what he was doing. Don't forget that he knew who you were, you weren't the one wearing a mask. Sloane is the one who hurt those people Syd, not you. He's the one who ruins lives, you're just as much a pawn in his game as they are."
"I went to graduate school, I would barely sleep so I could take my classes and go on my missions… I'm starting to think I'm never going to be a teacher. I can't quit though, I can't stop until I know Sloane and Sark are dead."
"You're going to be a teacher one day Syd."
"Sometimes I'm not even sure that it's what I want to do. My entire life I wanted to be a teacher because of my mother, and now I'm a spy essentially because of my parents. Why do I feel doomed to do this? It feels like a family business."
Vaughn squeezed her fingers and smiled. "It's more interesting than running a hardware store."
"It is," she laughed. She then glanced around the restaurant and back at the clock, "I should close up."
Vaughn nodded and dropped her fingers as they slowly stood. Instead of leaving, he waited until she returned from turning off the kitchen lights, and watched as she slipped on her coat. "What are you and Will doing this weekend?" he asked as she put together her belongings.
"I'll probably spend tomorrow listening to him either gloat or groan over tonight, depending on the outcome," she explained as he chuckled. "What are you doing?"
"Hitting the ice with some of the guys tomorrow," he answered.
"Good luck," she smiled.
"Have a nice weekend Syd." He stood, watching her lock up the restaurant.
"You too," she waved as she walked to her car. With one last wave she got in and drove off into the night. After a few moments of watching the nearly empty street, he got into his car and did the same.
A/N: Please R&R. Thank you!
