Chapter Three: Turning Point
"I was afraid to open my eyes. I thought you might be a dream."
Upon hearing his daughter's voice, Jack Bristow turned from the window, his hands in his pockets, his features illuminated by sunlight streaming in through the mini-blinds. He stepped softly to the bedside and smiled down at her.
"That makes two of us."
Sydney sat up slowly, pushing the blanket down to her waist before stretching her arms up toward the ceiling. After smoothing her hair behind her ears, she took a second look at her father, a warm smile spreading across her face.
Her voice thick with sleep, she asked, "Have you been here all night?"
Jack shook his head. "No. I went home - after you fell asleep," He paused, his eyes darting to the floor. His retelling of the event differed only slightly from what really happened; Sydney had cried herself to sleep on his shoulder.
The memory of the night before became clearer to Sydney as the fog of sleep burned off. She smiled up at her father, remembering the same thing he was: the tearful reunion they had shared.
While holding her close and stroking her hair as she spilled tears onto his suit coat, Jack had repeated, "I knew you'd come back, I knew you weren't dead," until his voice had grown hoarse. Sydney had simply clutched him tightly, his deep voice reverberating through her and setting things right within her.
They'd parted for a time, each one talking in rapid-fire bursts. Jack explained to his daughter that he'd never given up hope; he had searched for her for months, following and exhausting the few, slim leads they'd had. He'd refused to hold a memorial service for her, vowing to never mourn her passing until he had undeniable proof that she was dead.
Amid a rush of fresh tears, Sydney repeated her claim that she knew nothing of the last two years and begged her father to help her understand what had happened. She then told him about Vaughn, and sadness overwhelmed her, leaving her little choice but to surrender to her father's comforting embrace.
Jack held Sydney until she'd drifted off. After lowering her back against her pillow and covering her with the blanket, he sat across the room and watched her sleep, shedding a few tears of his own.
Sitting in the hospital bed, gazing up into her father's face, Sydney felt lighter somehow, like a monumental weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was certain now that she had an ally, someone who unconditionally believed her, someone who would do battle for her and with her as she struggled to recover the last 24 months of her life.
"Something I didn't ask you last night, Dad," Sydney patted the mattress in front of her, beckoning her father to sit as she folded her legs beneath her. "Where were you the last couple of days? Vaughn mentioned you were in the field."
"I was," Jack confirmed, sitting down. "I was actually in Madagascar," He paused, watching Sydney's face. "Tracking your mother."
Sydney drew in a deep breath. "Derevko."
Jack pursed his lips, acknowledging the emotion behind Sydney's cold deliverance of her mother's given name. They had known her as Laura Bristow, but she would never again be that person to either one of them.
Sydney had so many questions; she struggled to know which one to ask first. "Did you locate her?"
"No," Jack replied. His brow furrowed as he continued. "I haven't had much success with that over the past months."
Sydney sat quietly for a moment, collecting her thoughts, formulating ideas. There was one theory she held that was more insistent than the rest; it had been circulating through her mind for the better part of a day. She was about to put it into words for her father when the door opened and Dr. Wick entered, followed closely by a nurse pushing a wheelchair.
"Oh, hey, Jack," Dr. Wick smiled upon seeing Sydney's father. He extended his hand to shake. "It's good to see you."
"Nice to see you, as well, Sam," Jack returned the doctor's warm greeting.
"I hate to interrupt," Dr. Wick turned his attention to Sydney. "But, Ms. Bristow, it's time to start your blood work." He motioned to the nurse at his side. "Angela will take you down to the lab."
"I can walk," Sydney eyed the wheelchair suspiciously.
"Protocol," Dr. Wick nodded. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you anything about that."
"No, I'm quite familiar with the word," Sydney smiled ruefully. She extricated her legs from the tangled bed sheet and slid off the bed before bending down to retrieve her shoes. "Any idea when I can get something to eat?" She questioned, pulling on her Keds. "I never got to eat my dinner last night."
"Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until the testing is completed," Dr. Wick was busily making notes on Sydney's medical chart. "It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours."
"I spoke to Kendall before I came here this morning," Jack chimed in, following the doctor out into the hall as the nurse led the way with Sydney in the wheelchair. "After your testing, you'll be released to Will Tippin for the rest of the day."
Sydney swiveled in the chair, leaning over to see past the nurse. "Dad," She said. "I want to talk with you again - soon."
"We will, sweetheart," Jack assured her, stepping up beside the wheelchair as the small convoy stopped outside the door to the lab. Jack reached down and squeezed his daughter's arm. "Get some rest today, and when you come in tomorrow, we'll sit down together."
"Okay," Sydney agreed, nodding. She met his eyes, giving him a look that conveyed more than her words could say. "I want to hear all about Madagascar."
"Wow, look at you," Will Tippin said appreciatively as Sydney walked into the living room, freshly showered and changed. She had taken the time to really do her hair, to pull it back in a smart chignon at the nape of her slender neck.
"I'm starting to feel like myself again," Sydney smiled, glancing down at herself. "Thank you for getting me the clothes. It's nice to wear things that are familiar."
Will got up from where he'd been seated on the couch, a Time magazine in his lap. Pip momentarily stirred from her position on the rug at Will's feet, watching him carefully for any signs that he wanted to play. She was constantly on the lookout for this and couldn't understand why Will didn't share her enthusiasm.
Pip returned to her nap as Will stepped over her to come to Sydney's side. "It took me a while to remember which storage company we'd used," He said, looking Sydney up and down. "But once I did, it didn't take long to locate the box of clothes we'd saved. I washed everything last night - I'm glad to see I didn't ruin anything."
"Will, you didn't have to go to all that trouble," Sydney grabbed his arm. "But I appreciate that you did. Thank you."
They smiled at each other for a moment before Will's brow furrowed, his eyes once again looking Sydney from head to toe. She had chosen to wear a pair of black slacks and a black sleeveless pullover sweater.
"Hey, Syd," Will frowned. "Why all the black?"
Sydney's smile quickly faded and she bent her head toward the floor, taking a deep breath. When she met Will's eyes again, her expression bore traces of an almost tangible sadness.
She didn't even have to speak a word.
"I'll get my car keys," Will said quietly, moving around her toward the hallway. Sydney turned to watch him go, but her attention was caught by the antique framed photograph on the entertainment center. She gazed at it until Will came back, after which, with a heavy heart, she slowly turned her eyes away.
Their first stop was a short one; Will pulled his car up to the curb outside of the apartment he, Sydney and Francie had shared. From the outside, everything looked the same as it had the last time Sydney remembered being there. Sitting in the car, looking up at the building, she was struck with the strongest sense of déjà vu she had ever experienced.
"He said he'd come back for me after the debrief," Sydney said suddenly, shattering the heavy silence within the car. Will tore his eyes away from the apartment to look at her.
"Who?"
"Vaughn," Sydney whispered, her eyes never leaving the front door of the home where she used to live.
Will nodded in understanding. "He did, you know. That's why I'm alive," He gently placed his hand on Sydney's knee. "When he got here, you were already gone."
Sydney swallowed hard, her face a stoic mask. "Let's go," She said huskily, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak. She slipped her sunglasses back on, a dark pair that hid her eyes and the tears threatening to fall.
Will didn't argue; he put the car into gear and pulled away, their next destination not far away. He turned a few blocks down and then slowed to a stop once more, slipping the car into park as Sydney looked up and gasped.
"No," She moaned sadly, her eyes fixed on the boarded up building before them. "Francie's restaurant. Oh, Will," Sydney yanked off the sunglasses, making no attempt to hide her sorrow.
Will said nothing, his own emotions beginning to build, his sky blue eyes cloudy with gloom. "There was no one to run it," He explained helplessly. "Not that Francie had really been running it those last few months. I'm amazed Allison knew enough to keep the place afloat."
"Francie's family?" Sydney turned to Will, her eyes searching his face.
"They didn't have the heart," Will answered quietly. "They closed it."
Sydney sniffed shakily, reaching into her pocket for a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes before once again sliding on her sunglasses. Will waited a moment longer, his eyes scanning the building once more before he drove away.
After a brief stop at a corner market for a bouquet of flowers, Will drove and Sydney rode with him in solemn silence to a park-like cemetery just outside of Los Angeles. They turned onto the road leading deep within the rolling green landscape of marble headstones, the car tires noisily churning up gravel and dust. Will expertly parked the car just off the path and exited the vehicle, walking slowly around the car to take Sydney's hand as they started off across the grass.
Will slowed as they reached the gravesite, dropping Sydney's hand as she clutched the bouquet of flowers, a sudden sob escaping her throat.
Kneeling in the plush grass, Sydney blinked away tears to clear her view of the polished gray headstone. "Francine D. Calfo," She read, her voice halting. "Beloved daughter, sister and friend."
Will struggled against a lump in his throat as he watched Sydney lovingly lay the bouquet of white daisies at the base of the headstone after gently brushing her hand over the letters spelling out Francie's name. He reached out to lay a hand on Sydney's shoulder, and she rested her hand over his, clutching his fingers between her own. She remained in the grass, tears overflowing her eyes, for quite some time as she quietly grieved the loss of her best friend.
Finally, as the sun began to descend low into the western sky, Sydney stood up and brushed grass clippings from her knees. She dug in her pocket for her tissues and wiped her eyes, turning to Will and sighing mournfully when she saw that his eyes were also wet. Out of tissues, she offered him her shoulder, folding herself into his arms without a word exchanged between them.
The car ride back to Will's apartment was quiet, neither of them feeling the need to interrupt the silence. After they got back to the apartment and Will had taken Pip for a walk, Sydney played with her while Will dug a take- out menu out of the junk drawer in his kitchen.
Reaching for the phone, Will glanced up as Sydney wrestled the chew toy out of Pip's mouth and tossed it across the room. She was convinced that Pip could play this game for hours and never tire of it. Unfortunately for the dog, Sydney was quickly growing weary of the repetition.
"I'm gonna call out for pizza, Syd, if that's okay," Will said, beginning to dial. Sydney just nodded to him, tearing the toy from Pip's grasp yet again. Will placed the order and was just returning the menu to its place when Sydney walked into the kitchen and went to the sink to wash her hands.
"Do you have any wine?"
"Sure," Will answered quickly. He narrowed his eyes briefly. "At least, I think so. Let me check." As he went to the refrigerator, Sydney dried her hands on the kitchen towel and then leaned against he counter, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes still stung a little from her tears and her throat felt dry.
Sydney watched Will reach way back into the fridge. "Beer would be okay, if you don't," She said, listening as he rooted through what sounded like an endless array of bottled beer.
"Ah-ha!" Will sang out triumphantly, pulling out a bottle of wine and holding it up. "And guess what. It's never been opened!"
"Oooh, screw-off cap. My favorite," Sydney grinned teasingly.
"Hey, it's Arbor Mist," Will pointed to it, his eyebrows raised. "That goes good with pizza, right?" He set the bottle down on the counter as Sydney just smiled. "When's the last time you had pizza?" Will asked her, opening a cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses.
Sydney thought for a moment, her brow furrowed. She suddenly smiled, turning to Will as she began to giggle. "You know what?" She asked, giggling harder as Will gave her a puzzled look. "I don't remember!"
Will was caught off guard by her sudden laughter, and he watched her carefully, hoping to be let in on the joke. Sydney grabbed his arm, laughing harder.
"Don't you get it, Will?" She gasped between fits of giggles. "I don't remember. Like - the last two years? I don't remember!"
Will wasn't sure how that was supposed to be funny, but seeing Sydney laugh was enough to elevate his mood and make him chuckle. He supposed it was funny to her, and he let it be, knowing the laughter was helping her to decompress. Giving her a crazy look, Will screwed the cap off the wine and poured two glasses, hers less full than his own. When she protested, Will held the bottle away from her.
"You don't need more than that, Syd. You've already been smokin' something, I can tell."
The kitchen echoed with their laughter. In the living room, Pip raised her head from where she lay on the couch, watching Sydney and Will as they clinked their glasses and then sipped their wine. Satisfied, Pip lowered her head and closed her eyes, the warm sounds of friendship soothing her to sleep.
Nudging the door open as she knocked, Sydney stuck her head inside, pausing when Dr. Barnett looked up from her notes.
"Agent Bristow," She rose from her chair, closing her notebook.
"Dr. Barnett, I'm sorry if I'm intruding," Sydney stepped into the tidy office and closed the door. "Your door was open a crack, and I," She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you'd mind if I had a session with you this morning."
Dr. Barnett opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, clearly surprised. She recovered quickly, motioning to the chair across from her desk. "Take a seat," She directed kindly. Once they were both seated, she continued. "I must admit I'm surprised. When I saw you two days ago, you seemed to be less than willing to speak with me at any length."
"I know," Sydney admitted, diverting her eyes as she gazed down at her lap, her fingers twisting a loose thread from a small hole in the knee of her blue jeans. They weren't the best pair of jeans she had ever owned, but they were hers, and that was what was important to her. "I did a lot of thinking last night, Dr. Barnett, and I've reached the conclusion that I'm tired of being blindsided by what has happened to my life. I've decided that I need to unravel the mystery, to deal with it, to get in the thick of it and figure it out, instead of just being sad about it."
Dr. Barnett sat back in her chair, her eyebrows raised. "That's a very healthy attitude to take, Sydney," She said. "And it sounds very much like the Sydney Bristow I knew not too long ago."
Sydney smiled slightly, meeting Dr. Barnett's eyes. "I visited my friend's grave yesterday," She said quietly. "And it put a lot of things into perspective."
Dr. Barnett nodded. "I can imagine that it would."
"I'm not saying I'm over it," Sydney told her. "I'm nowhere near that. I'm just ready now to meet it head on and find the answers to why that happened, why anything in the last two years has happened."
"You want closure," Dr. Barnett surmised, picking up her pen to make notes.
"That, yes," Sydney agreed just before her eyes darkened a bit, her voice sharpening. "And I want to find the person responsible for all of this and make him pay."
Dr. Barnett looked up sharply, her pen poised over her notebook. She watched Sydney closely. "I can understand that desire," She said, treading carefully. "But revenge can often be pushed into place over the top of sadness and grief. When you ultimately get the payoff you seek, those feelings will still be there."
"Maybe so," Sydney crossed her legs, her demeanor noticeably more relaxed than it had been two days ago. "But I doubt they'll hurt nearly as much then as they do now."
While Dr. Barnett was troubled by Sydney's motivations, she was pleased that Sydney was willing to talk. She decided to open the discussion as broadly as possible, volleying the ball back into Sydney's wide open court.
"So tell me, Sydney," Dr. Barnett began, casually writing in her notebook. "Where exactly do you want to begin?"
Sydney surprised them both with the answer that burst from her lips, driven by the thrust of truth.
"Michael Vaughn."
******
"I was afraid to open my eyes. I thought you might be a dream."
Upon hearing his daughter's voice, Jack Bristow turned from the window, his hands in his pockets, his features illuminated by sunlight streaming in through the mini-blinds. He stepped softly to the bedside and smiled down at her.
"That makes two of us."
Sydney sat up slowly, pushing the blanket down to her waist before stretching her arms up toward the ceiling. After smoothing her hair behind her ears, she took a second look at her father, a warm smile spreading across her face.
Her voice thick with sleep, she asked, "Have you been here all night?"
Jack shook his head. "No. I went home - after you fell asleep," He paused, his eyes darting to the floor. His retelling of the event differed only slightly from what really happened; Sydney had cried herself to sleep on his shoulder.
The memory of the night before became clearer to Sydney as the fog of sleep burned off. She smiled up at her father, remembering the same thing he was: the tearful reunion they had shared.
While holding her close and stroking her hair as she spilled tears onto his suit coat, Jack had repeated, "I knew you'd come back, I knew you weren't dead," until his voice had grown hoarse. Sydney had simply clutched him tightly, his deep voice reverberating through her and setting things right within her.
They'd parted for a time, each one talking in rapid-fire bursts. Jack explained to his daughter that he'd never given up hope; he had searched for her for months, following and exhausting the few, slim leads they'd had. He'd refused to hold a memorial service for her, vowing to never mourn her passing until he had undeniable proof that she was dead.
Amid a rush of fresh tears, Sydney repeated her claim that she knew nothing of the last two years and begged her father to help her understand what had happened. She then told him about Vaughn, and sadness overwhelmed her, leaving her little choice but to surrender to her father's comforting embrace.
Jack held Sydney until she'd drifted off. After lowering her back against her pillow and covering her with the blanket, he sat across the room and watched her sleep, shedding a few tears of his own.
Sitting in the hospital bed, gazing up into her father's face, Sydney felt lighter somehow, like a monumental weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was certain now that she had an ally, someone who unconditionally believed her, someone who would do battle for her and with her as she struggled to recover the last 24 months of her life.
"Something I didn't ask you last night, Dad," Sydney patted the mattress in front of her, beckoning her father to sit as she folded her legs beneath her. "Where were you the last couple of days? Vaughn mentioned you were in the field."
"I was," Jack confirmed, sitting down. "I was actually in Madagascar," He paused, watching Sydney's face. "Tracking your mother."
Sydney drew in a deep breath. "Derevko."
Jack pursed his lips, acknowledging the emotion behind Sydney's cold deliverance of her mother's given name. They had known her as Laura Bristow, but she would never again be that person to either one of them.
Sydney had so many questions; she struggled to know which one to ask first. "Did you locate her?"
"No," Jack replied. His brow furrowed as he continued. "I haven't had much success with that over the past months."
Sydney sat quietly for a moment, collecting her thoughts, formulating ideas. There was one theory she held that was more insistent than the rest; it had been circulating through her mind for the better part of a day. She was about to put it into words for her father when the door opened and Dr. Wick entered, followed closely by a nurse pushing a wheelchair.
"Oh, hey, Jack," Dr. Wick smiled upon seeing Sydney's father. He extended his hand to shake. "It's good to see you."
"Nice to see you, as well, Sam," Jack returned the doctor's warm greeting.
"I hate to interrupt," Dr. Wick turned his attention to Sydney. "But, Ms. Bristow, it's time to start your blood work." He motioned to the nurse at his side. "Angela will take you down to the lab."
"I can walk," Sydney eyed the wheelchair suspiciously.
"Protocol," Dr. Wick nodded. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you anything about that."
"No, I'm quite familiar with the word," Sydney smiled ruefully. She extricated her legs from the tangled bed sheet and slid off the bed before bending down to retrieve her shoes. "Any idea when I can get something to eat?" She questioned, pulling on her Keds. "I never got to eat my dinner last night."
"Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until the testing is completed," Dr. Wick was busily making notes on Sydney's medical chart. "It shouldn't take more than a couple of hours."
"I spoke to Kendall before I came here this morning," Jack chimed in, following the doctor out into the hall as the nurse led the way with Sydney in the wheelchair. "After your testing, you'll be released to Will Tippin for the rest of the day."
Sydney swiveled in the chair, leaning over to see past the nurse. "Dad," She said. "I want to talk with you again - soon."
"We will, sweetheart," Jack assured her, stepping up beside the wheelchair as the small convoy stopped outside the door to the lab. Jack reached down and squeezed his daughter's arm. "Get some rest today, and when you come in tomorrow, we'll sit down together."
"Okay," Sydney agreed, nodding. She met his eyes, giving him a look that conveyed more than her words could say. "I want to hear all about Madagascar."
"Wow, look at you," Will Tippin said appreciatively as Sydney walked into the living room, freshly showered and changed. She had taken the time to really do her hair, to pull it back in a smart chignon at the nape of her slender neck.
"I'm starting to feel like myself again," Sydney smiled, glancing down at herself. "Thank you for getting me the clothes. It's nice to wear things that are familiar."
Will got up from where he'd been seated on the couch, a Time magazine in his lap. Pip momentarily stirred from her position on the rug at Will's feet, watching him carefully for any signs that he wanted to play. She was constantly on the lookout for this and couldn't understand why Will didn't share her enthusiasm.
Pip returned to her nap as Will stepped over her to come to Sydney's side. "It took me a while to remember which storage company we'd used," He said, looking Sydney up and down. "But once I did, it didn't take long to locate the box of clothes we'd saved. I washed everything last night - I'm glad to see I didn't ruin anything."
"Will, you didn't have to go to all that trouble," Sydney grabbed his arm. "But I appreciate that you did. Thank you."
They smiled at each other for a moment before Will's brow furrowed, his eyes once again looking Sydney from head to toe. She had chosen to wear a pair of black slacks and a black sleeveless pullover sweater.
"Hey, Syd," Will frowned. "Why all the black?"
Sydney's smile quickly faded and she bent her head toward the floor, taking a deep breath. When she met Will's eyes again, her expression bore traces of an almost tangible sadness.
She didn't even have to speak a word.
"I'll get my car keys," Will said quietly, moving around her toward the hallway. Sydney turned to watch him go, but her attention was caught by the antique framed photograph on the entertainment center. She gazed at it until Will came back, after which, with a heavy heart, she slowly turned her eyes away.
Their first stop was a short one; Will pulled his car up to the curb outside of the apartment he, Sydney and Francie had shared. From the outside, everything looked the same as it had the last time Sydney remembered being there. Sitting in the car, looking up at the building, she was struck with the strongest sense of déjà vu she had ever experienced.
"He said he'd come back for me after the debrief," Sydney said suddenly, shattering the heavy silence within the car. Will tore his eyes away from the apartment to look at her.
"Who?"
"Vaughn," Sydney whispered, her eyes never leaving the front door of the home where she used to live.
Will nodded in understanding. "He did, you know. That's why I'm alive," He gently placed his hand on Sydney's knee. "When he got here, you were already gone."
Sydney swallowed hard, her face a stoic mask. "Let's go," She said huskily, the lump in her throat making it hard for her to speak. She slipped her sunglasses back on, a dark pair that hid her eyes and the tears threatening to fall.
Will didn't argue; he put the car into gear and pulled away, their next destination not far away. He turned a few blocks down and then slowed to a stop once more, slipping the car into park as Sydney looked up and gasped.
"No," She moaned sadly, her eyes fixed on the boarded up building before them. "Francie's restaurant. Oh, Will," Sydney yanked off the sunglasses, making no attempt to hide her sorrow.
Will said nothing, his own emotions beginning to build, his sky blue eyes cloudy with gloom. "There was no one to run it," He explained helplessly. "Not that Francie had really been running it those last few months. I'm amazed Allison knew enough to keep the place afloat."
"Francie's family?" Sydney turned to Will, her eyes searching his face.
"They didn't have the heart," Will answered quietly. "They closed it."
Sydney sniffed shakily, reaching into her pocket for a tissue. She dabbed at her eyes before once again sliding on her sunglasses. Will waited a moment longer, his eyes scanning the building once more before he drove away.
After a brief stop at a corner market for a bouquet of flowers, Will drove and Sydney rode with him in solemn silence to a park-like cemetery just outside of Los Angeles. They turned onto the road leading deep within the rolling green landscape of marble headstones, the car tires noisily churning up gravel and dust. Will expertly parked the car just off the path and exited the vehicle, walking slowly around the car to take Sydney's hand as they started off across the grass.
Will slowed as they reached the gravesite, dropping Sydney's hand as she clutched the bouquet of flowers, a sudden sob escaping her throat.
Kneeling in the plush grass, Sydney blinked away tears to clear her view of the polished gray headstone. "Francine D. Calfo," She read, her voice halting. "Beloved daughter, sister and friend."
Will struggled against a lump in his throat as he watched Sydney lovingly lay the bouquet of white daisies at the base of the headstone after gently brushing her hand over the letters spelling out Francie's name. He reached out to lay a hand on Sydney's shoulder, and she rested her hand over his, clutching his fingers between her own. She remained in the grass, tears overflowing her eyes, for quite some time as she quietly grieved the loss of her best friend.
Finally, as the sun began to descend low into the western sky, Sydney stood up and brushed grass clippings from her knees. She dug in her pocket for her tissues and wiped her eyes, turning to Will and sighing mournfully when she saw that his eyes were also wet. Out of tissues, she offered him her shoulder, folding herself into his arms without a word exchanged between them.
The car ride back to Will's apartment was quiet, neither of them feeling the need to interrupt the silence. After they got back to the apartment and Will had taken Pip for a walk, Sydney played with her while Will dug a take- out menu out of the junk drawer in his kitchen.
Reaching for the phone, Will glanced up as Sydney wrestled the chew toy out of Pip's mouth and tossed it across the room. She was convinced that Pip could play this game for hours and never tire of it. Unfortunately for the dog, Sydney was quickly growing weary of the repetition.
"I'm gonna call out for pizza, Syd, if that's okay," Will said, beginning to dial. Sydney just nodded to him, tearing the toy from Pip's grasp yet again. Will placed the order and was just returning the menu to its place when Sydney walked into the kitchen and went to the sink to wash her hands.
"Do you have any wine?"
"Sure," Will answered quickly. He narrowed his eyes briefly. "At least, I think so. Let me check." As he went to the refrigerator, Sydney dried her hands on the kitchen towel and then leaned against he counter, crossing her arms over her chest. Her eyes still stung a little from her tears and her throat felt dry.
Sydney watched Will reach way back into the fridge. "Beer would be okay, if you don't," She said, listening as he rooted through what sounded like an endless array of bottled beer.
"Ah-ha!" Will sang out triumphantly, pulling out a bottle of wine and holding it up. "And guess what. It's never been opened!"
"Oooh, screw-off cap. My favorite," Sydney grinned teasingly.
"Hey, it's Arbor Mist," Will pointed to it, his eyebrows raised. "That goes good with pizza, right?" He set the bottle down on the counter as Sydney just smiled. "When's the last time you had pizza?" Will asked her, opening a cabinet to retrieve two wine glasses.
Sydney thought for a moment, her brow furrowed. She suddenly smiled, turning to Will as she began to giggle. "You know what?" She asked, giggling harder as Will gave her a puzzled look. "I don't remember!"
Will was caught off guard by her sudden laughter, and he watched her carefully, hoping to be let in on the joke. Sydney grabbed his arm, laughing harder.
"Don't you get it, Will?" She gasped between fits of giggles. "I don't remember. Like - the last two years? I don't remember!"
Will wasn't sure how that was supposed to be funny, but seeing Sydney laugh was enough to elevate his mood and make him chuckle. He supposed it was funny to her, and he let it be, knowing the laughter was helping her to decompress. Giving her a crazy look, Will screwed the cap off the wine and poured two glasses, hers less full than his own. When she protested, Will held the bottle away from her.
"You don't need more than that, Syd. You've already been smokin' something, I can tell."
The kitchen echoed with their laughter. In the living room, Pip raised her head from where she lay on the couch, watching Sydney and Will as they clinked their glasses and then sipped their wine. Satisfied, Pip lowered her head and closed her eyes, the warm sounds of friendship soothing her to sleep.
Nudging the door open as she knocked, Sydney stuck her head inside, pausing when Dr. Barnett looked up from her notes.
"Agent Bristow," She rose from her chair, closing her notebook.
"Dr. Barnett, I'm sorry if I'm intruding," Sydney stepped into the tidy office and closed the door. "Your door was open a crack, and I," She took a deep breath. "I was wondering if you'd mind if I had a session with you this morning."
Dr. Barnett opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, clearly surprised. She recovered quickly, motioning to the chair across from her desk. "Take a seat," She directed kindly. Once they were both seated, she continued. "I must admit I'm surprised. When I saw you two days ago, you seemed to be less than willing to speak with me at any length."
"I know," Sydney admitted, diverting her eyes as she gazed down at her lap, her fingers twisting a loose thread from a small hole in the knee of her blue jeans. They weren't the best pair of jeans she had ever owned, but they were hers, and that was what was important to her. "I did a lot of thinking last night, Dr. Barnett, and I've reached the conclusion that I'm tired of being blindsided by what has happened to my life. I've decided that I need to unravel the mystery, to deal with it, to get in the thick of it and figure it out, instead of just being sad about it."
Dr. Barnett sat back in her chair, her eyebrows raised. "That's a very healthy attitude to take, Sydney," She said. "And it sounds very much like the Sydney Bristow I knew not too long ago."
Sydney smiled slightly, meeting Dr. Barnett's eyes. "I visited my friend's grave yesterday," She said quietly. "And it put a lot of things into perspective."
Dr. Barnett nodded. "I can imagine that it would."
"I'm not saying I'm over it," Sydney told her. "I'm nowhere near that. I'm just ready now to meet it head on and find the answers to why that happened, why anything in the last two years has happened."
"You want closure," Dr. Barnett surmised, picking up her pen to make notes.
"That, yes," Sydney agreed just before her eyes darkened a bit, her voice sharpening. "And I want to find the person responsible for all of this and make him pay."
Dr. Barnett looked up sharply, her pen poised over her notebook. She watched Sydney closely. "I can understand that desire," She said, treading carefully. "But revenge can often be pushed into place over the top of sadness and grief. When you ultimately get the payoff you seek, those feelings will still be there."
"Maybe so," Sydney crossed her legs, her demeanor noticeably more relaxed than it had been two days ago. "But I doubt they'll hurt nearly as much then as they do now."
While Dr. Barnett was troubled by Sydney's motivations, she was pleased that Sydney was willing to talk. She decided to open the discussion as broadly as possible, volleying the ball back into Sydney's wide open court.
"So tell me, Sydney," Dr. Barnett began, casually writing in her notebook. "Where exactly do you want to begin?"
Sydney surprised them both with the answer that burst from her lips, driven by the thrust of truth.
"Michael Vaughn."
******
