Chapter Nine: From Darkness into Light

Irina Derevko opened her eyes and immediately sensed that she was not alone.

She remained still as she allowed herself to fully awaken, her eyes blinking hard at the dark stone wall she faced. Her body was stiff, the thin mattress offering no support. She reasoned to herself that at least she had a mattress; Jack had been good enough to see that she didn't have to settle for the hard metal slab alone.

Slowly, conscious of her bandaged left bicep, Irina rose up from the bed. She swiveled on the mattress, taking her time, sliding her legs over the edge until her feet hit the cold marble floor. Only then did she turn her head and see her daughter sitting quietly at the metal desk in the corner of the cell.

Sydney Bristow watched as her mother reached down to pull on her lace-less white canvas tennis shoes. The footwear was a stark contrast to her black tank top and cargo pants, the standard issue uniform for CIA detainees. 

Sydney cleared her throat and waited until she had Irina's full attention. The older woman folded her hands in her lap, ready to receive whatever Sydney had to say.

"I can't save you this time," Sydney began, her voice business-like, void of all warmth. "Every deal or arrangement you made with the U.S. government was broken two years ago when you escaped our custody. They want to proceed with your execution."

Irina allowed herself a tiny smile. "This is how you greet your mother?"

Sydney narrowed her eyes. "What do you want, Mom? Hugs and kisses?"

Irina said nothing as the smile left her face. Sydney continued.

"There is one thing I can do," She said, crossing her legs, her tone softer but not without authority. "In Nepal you asked me for more time. I can get that for you, but only if you cooperate fully with our investigation. That means you must answer all of my questions and give us any and all information that will lead to the capture of Arvin Sloane. These are the terms, and they are not open to discussion. If you refuse, Kendall will ship you out to a federal detention facility and your execution will be carried out by end of business tomorrow."

Irina searched her daughter's face, quickly gauging the seriousness of her words.

"And I thought you and I had come a long way in our relationship," She mused, the smile returning.

Sydney wasn't pulling any punches. "That remains to be seen, depending on what you tell me," She paused, her eyes locking on her mother's. "Do you agree to the terms?"

Knowing she had no choice, Irina slowly nodded. "Yes."

"Good." Sydney turned to the wall of bulletproof glass and nodded to the armed guard standing at the door. "You can go." One he had walked away, Sydney returned her attention to her mother. "I believe that the only reason I'm still alive and here in L.A. is because of you. Am I right?"

Irina drew in a deep breath, looking down at her hands. It was clear she wasn't going to be able to avoid this conversation. Resigning herself to it, she asked, "Where shall I begin?"

"I read your statement," Sydney said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't need background information," Her voice dropped slightly, a shadow crossing her face. "Begin with me."

Irina watched her daughter's eyes, conscious of the pain in them. Getting to her feet, Irina crossed the cell to the sink in the opposite corner and began to run cool water in the basin. Sydney was patient, watching her mother's back as she bent over the sink and splashed her cheeks.

After patting her skin dry, Irina turned and leaned back against the sink, her arms crossed over her chest. Their eyes met and Irina sighed, her forehead creasing with concern.

"This won't be easy to hear," Irina said finally, her rich voice tinged with compassion.

"I'm certain of that," Sydney nodded. "But most of my life the past couple of weeks has been full of things that are hard to hear. Trust me, I can take it."

A pensive expression on her face, Irina took a few steps toward her daughter and sank down to the floor, crossing her legs beneath herself.

"How is Agent Vaughn?"

Sydney's mouth was a hard line, her jaw set. "About me, Mom. Tell me about me."

"A sore subject, I see?"

"The agreement was that you would answer my questions-"

"All right, all right," Irina held up her hands, sighing resignedly. "Before Sloane abducted you, I had separated from him for a time," She settled in, her eyes narrowed as she began her recollection. "I was aware of his movements throughout L.A. and was keeping tabs on him from time to time. Naturally, it alarmed me when I found out he had kidnapped your father. I had a fear that you would be next. Arvin was obsessed with Rambaldi, obsessed with the prophecy. We discussed it at length, and I knew he was convinced, as I am, that you are the woman in the prophecy."

"I know all this, Mom," Sydney interrupted impatiently. "What I need to know is what happened to me. Where did Sloane take me, what did he do?"

Irina nodded. "I'm getting to that," She explained, pausing briefly to collect her thoughts. "Sloane believed that if he could contain you in some way, he could complete his work with Rambaldi and keep you from fulfilling the prophecy. The night that Sark abducted you, Sloane injected you with a drug that kept you in a semi-conscious state. Each morning you'd get a dose, go through the day like a, like a-"

"A zombie?" Sydney guessed, horrified at the sound of the word.

Irina snapped her fingers. "Yes! Yes, like a zombie," She continued. "And at night, when you'd sleep, your memory would reset. Each day you'd wake up having no recall of the day before. Sloane felt safe with you at his side – no matter what activities he engaged in, he knew you'd not remember any of it."

"Why not just kill me?" Sydney forced herself to speak, her mind overrun with the images her mother supplied.

Irina met her daughter's gaze, her eyes dark. "I wouldn't let him," She said simply. "He spoke of it once, and I told him I'd personally see to it that he met the same fate," She cleared her throat, moving ahead. "After a while, something started to happen to Arvin. He became completely paranoid and delusional. He went slightly mad."

"So – what – instead of just a little insane, now he's a lot insane?"

Irina suppressed the urge to smile. "Arvin began to believe that Milo Rambaldi was communicating with him."

"What?"

"He called these communications 'visions'. In one particular vision, Rambaldi supposedly told him that no matter what your state of consciousness, you would still fulfill the prophecy and destroy Arvin's work," Irina pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, her expression earnest. "He claimed that Rambaldi instructed him to produce an heir, a child born of Rambaldi's bloodline-" She paused, watching Sydney's face. "And yours."

Out in the ops center, watching on a closed circuit television, Jack Bristow's heart sank.

"What do you mean, of Rambaldi's bloodline?" Sydney uncrossed her legs and sat forward in the chair, her eyes intent on Irina's face. "Rambaldi left no known heirs."

"I know," Irina replied quietly. "But according to Arvin's vision, Rambaldi instructed him to choose a male from a certain family line. Arvin sent me to Italy, to trace those ancestors. At the time, I didn't know precisely why. It wasn't until I met up with him in Madagascar that I found out. At that point, he had started administering you the fertility drug. There wasn't anything I could do."

Sydney struggled for words, her mind racing ahead and circling back, begging answers to questions she wasn't sure she had the strength to ask.

"He wanted to impregnate me? By whom?" Sydney demanded, her shock giving way to disbelief and anger. "Did you find someone? Did you bring someone back from Italy?"

Irina nodded slowly. "I located a young man in Rome. Sark assisted me in transporting him back to Madagascar," She sighed, shaking her head. "I never would have done it if I knew exactly what he was planning-"

"Did he succeed?" Sydney interjected, fearing the answer.

"No," Irina answered quickly. "And it's not what you think. Arvin didn't want to take any chances, didn't want you to resist in any way. It was all done clinically, as an in-vitro procedure. They tried a total of four times, over the course of several months, but it didn't work."

"Didn't work? How?" Sydney clenched her fists, squeezing tightly as fear simmered within her. "I never got pregnant, or the pregnancies didn't last?" She watched her mother's face carefully, a wave of panic rushing up to engulf her. Irina didn't readily answer, averting her eyes, her brow furrowed. Sydney drew in a sharp breath. "Which one was it, Mom? Which one?"

Irina slowly rose to her feet, her face etched with concern as she took a few steps toward her daughter.

"The pregnancies didn't last," Irina whispered, her hands reaching out as Sydney's face crumpled; huge, salty tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Oh, my god," She breathed, gulping in air. "Oh, my god." Looking up to see her mother approaching, she drew back, hugging herself tightly. "Don't touch me, Mom. Just – just don't."

Irina sighed and sat down on the metal cot, watching as Sydney struggled to pull herself together. Irina laid her hands in her lap, giving her daughter time before she went on.

"The tumor had already formed, from the drug," Irina explained. "And the doctors told Arvin that they could no more procedures until it was removed. So they went ahead with the operation," She looked down at her hands, clearly frustrated. "Arvin sent me away. He knew that with me around he'd never be able to continue. He threatened to kill you if I didn't go. So, I left. It was stupid of me to give in – with me gone he could have just as easily killed you as kept you alive."

"You went back," Sydney guessed, wiping tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Yes, a few weeks later," Irina nodded. "By this time, Arvin had moved on to Hong Kong. He had heard about experimental fertility procedures there. By then, you had healed from the surgery and he was prepared to start again."

"But you stopped him."

"I did, yes," Irina looked up, her face awash in emotion. "I couldn't let him do it. I wanted the Rambaldi truths as badly as he did, but not at your expense. No longer." She took a deep breath. "I freed the young Italian, who, like you, was being daily medicated. Then I went back for you, and ran into a little trouble. Sark walked in on me, and I had to kill him."

"Sark is dead?" Sydney asked incredulously, her eyes wide.

"I believe so," Irina nodded. "I didn't stop to check his pulse, but-" She shrugged. "I got you out. We escaped through an old underground tunnel system. I left you in a cheap hotel, confident that once the medication wore off completely, you'd find your way back home."

"You went back for Sloane."        

"He was gone," Irina replied, anger in her voice. "And I've been pursuing him ever since that time. When you saw me in Nepal, I was meeting with Mujari to ask for his assistance. He is a long time enemy of Arvin Sloane."

Sydney lifted a hand to her forehead, smoothing back her hair as her mind struggled to wrap itself around all that she had been told. She closed her eyes for a moment, squeezing them shut to quiet the many unanswered questions that raged inside her head. Opening them again, she caught sight of her father standing on the other side of the glass, his hands in his pockets. He was watching her, his face stoic though his eyes were ablaze with concern for his daughter.

"Sydney," Jack said her name softly, causing both women to turn their eyes to his face.

Sydney nodded slowly and turned back to her mother. "Thank you," She said quietly. "I appreciate you being so cooperative." Rising from her seat, Sydney propelled herself toward the cell door, fighting against the desire to stay and find out so much more.

"Sydney," Irina called, getting to her feet. When her daughter turned around, Irina smiled. "I meant what I said in Nepal. It is good to see you again."

Sydney looked at her for a long time, willing herself to stay in control of her emotions. "You, too," She said quietly, just before she turned and followed her father down the corridor, the metal gates shuddering into place behind them.

Reaching the central area of the ops center, Sydney paused by her work station and turned to face her father. His eyes spoke volumes, and she answered his question before he could ask it.

"I'm okay, Dad," Sydney smiled weakly. "It was tough to hear, but," She halted a moment, shaking her head. "Hearing it is easier than having the actual memories."

Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Speaking of that," He said. "Kendall read the statement we took from your mother when we brought her in last night. He's eager for you to begin the hypnotic regression therapy," Jack's brow furrowed. "I told him I'd let you determine when that should start, and that pacified him for now, however I don't believe he'll stay patient for long."

"That's understandable," Sydney nodded. "It makes sense that the key to Sloane's location may be locked away in my memory. I'm just not sure if I'm ready," She met her father's eyes, the weariness in her face pricking his heart. "Like I said, hearing Mom tell it is far different from reliving the whole experience."

Jack rested a hand comfortingly on Sydney's shoulder. "Take your time," He said soothingly. "Derevko gave us a lot of information that we can work on at this point."

"Dad," Sydney's eyes went hard, her voice steely. "I need to know that everything she said is going to be dissected and studied for evidence leading to Sloane. I need to know that we're doing all we can with that information in order to find him."

"We are," Jack assured her. "We've got the best analysts on it, including Tippin."

Sydney nodded, momentarily reassured. "I want to be in on it," She said determinedly. "When the op is planned, where it'll be. I'm going."

"Sydney-"

"You can't talk me out of this, Dad," Sydney warned him, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's how I'm making it through this – knowing that I can be the one to bring him down."

Before Jack could respond, Kendall shouted out his name from across the room, beckoning to him with the wave of his hand. Jack glanced over and nodded, then turned his attention back to his daughter. He dropped his hand from her shoulder, clearing his throat.

"We'll discuss that when the time comes. For now, take care of yourself. Get some rest," He started to leave, then turned back. "Good work, with your mother. I know that wasn't easy."

Sydney just smiled, watching as her father walked away. She took a deep breath, clearing her mind, compartmentalizing as she always did. There would be time later to deconstruct and try to understand everything her mother had told her. Right now she just wanted to push it aside, to go home and rest after a sleepless night.

After leaving Vaughn's apartment, she and Will had sat up half the night discussing Irina Derevko while waiting for the call that would let her know when it was time for her to report to the ops center. The call had finally come at six a.m., long after Will had fallen asleep on the couch, Pip at his feet.

Sydney had remained awake, nervous energy her only fuel. She'd passed the time doing random activities like folding laundry and alphabetizing Will's CD collection. When she'd finally moved on to one of the packing boxes in the bedroom, one of her cartons that Will had brought over from storage, she'd been knocked for a loop most unexpected. Opening the box to sort through the objects of a life she'd lived what seemed forever ago, she had found her old SD-6 pager. Holding the small black device in her hand had opened her eyes to a truth she knew she could no longer avoid.

Years ago, on the pier, she had tossed a similar beeper into the Pacific Ocean. The conversation she'd had with Vaughn that night came back to her in astounding clarity. One thing he'd said resonated inside her so strongly she felt tears sting her eyes. Vaughn had reminded her that even with all the darkness she saw, all the enemies she battled, all the worst of people she encountered – her one responsibility was not to let the rage, resentment and disgust darken her. 

It was with shame, at four a.m., that Sydney realized she had let herself down.

Crawling up on the bed, clutching the pager in her hand, she cried. She had allowed herself to be mean, to be cruel, to be darkened by memories she couldn't even recall. She had given in to her rage and resentment and treated Vaughn's wife unkindly. And the worst of it was, now that she was at her lowest, at her most depressed, she no longer could just pick up the phone. Things were no longer that simple.

When the call came in at six a.m., Sydney had been asleep for twenty minutes, the beeper still in her hand. Before leaving the apartment, she had tucked it in her handbag as a gentle yet unmistakable reminder.

"Hey, Syd," Weiss's voice behind her snapped her back to the present. Smiling, she looked up to see Weiss approaching with Vaughn right behind him. The three exchanged greetings before Weiss continued. "Vaughn and I were about to go to lunch – do you want to join us?"

Sydney opened her mouth to speak but paused as she met Vaughn's eyes. He looked uncomfortable, and she immediately registered her regret over the evening before.

"Weiss, I appreciate the offer, but I really should go home and get some sleep."

"Oh, c'mon," Weiss poked her arm. "It's just lunch. We just wanna go hang out, shoot the breeze." He grinned. "I'm buyin'."

"That's generous of you," Sydney met Vaughn's eyes again, swallowing hard. "But I really need to go. I'll see you later." She smiled kindly and then walked away.

Watching her go, Weiss shook his head. "I wonder how she always manages to smell so good. It's like spiced vanilla. A little edgy, kinda sweet-"

"Shut up," Vaughn advised, pushing past him to follow Sydney. He caught up with her just as she was nearing the elevator. "Syd," He said, reaching her side. "Wait a minute."

Sydney and Vaughn stepped aside as the elevator door opened and some agents entered the corridor. Sydney watched them go, then turned to Vaughn with an expectant look.

"What?"

"Are you really going because you're tired, or," He paused, reaching up to rub his forehead, a telltale sign of his apprehension. "Or because of me? Because if you'd like to come to lunch-"

Sydney sighed. "I really am tired," She confessed. "But it is partly because of you."

Vaughn had suspected as much, but he was still taken aback when Sydney said it out loud.

"Vaughn, you made up your mind," She continued. "Last night I wasn't respectful of that, and for that I'm sorry," Sydney managed a weak smile. "I accepted the decision you made concerning the nature of our relationship. I think lunch would be pushing those boundaries, and I don't want to do that."

Vaughn was caught without a thing to say. "But," He stammered, confused. The Sydney of this moment was not the Sydney of the night before. In a way, he was relieved. In another, he was mystified. "It's just lunch."

"What are we going to talk about over lunch?" Sydney queried, her eyebrows raised. "Work? I don't think so." She reached over and pushed the down arrow on the panel beside the elevator. A car was waiting in the parking garage to take her home.

"I think you may be twisting my intent, Sydney," Vaughn finally said before he paused to ask himself why it was so important to him that Sydney come to lunch. Perhaps he really didn't want her to go; maybe his greater aim was to paint himself as the magnanimous good guy. Thinking about that for a moment, Vaughn found that he was disgusted with himself.

"I'm not twisting anything," Sydney stated matter-of-factly as the elevator arrived and the doors slid open. Stepping inside, she turned to Vaughn and smiled. "You made up your mind, and I need to respect that. Have a good lunch." And with that, the doors closed and she was gone.

"Hey," Weiss said when Vaughn returned to his work station. "This will come as no surprise, but, I was watching you two as you were chatting, and I have a question. What is up with you guys? The tension between you is unbelievable."

"Nothing is up with us," Vaughn sorted through a stack of files on his desk top. "Things are just different now, that's all."

"Oh, c'mon, Mike," Weiss scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I coulda walked over there and cut it with a knife." He prodded Vaughn's shoulder with his fist. "We're friends, man. Tell me what's going on. The suspense is killing me."

Vaughn smirked as he began to walk away. "Then I guess you'll drop dead."

"Yeah, well," Weiss pointed a finger at his good friend as he followed, jogging a bit to catch up.  "There's a thin line between love and hate," He called out as Vaughn headed for the exit. "You remember that!"

"Well, that was a nice treat," Alice breathed, following Vaughn into their apartment and slipping her sweater from her shoulders. "Calling me at work, asking me to meet you at L'amore Eterno. We should do that more often."

Vaughn smiled faintly, catching Alice's sweater as she tossed it at him just before coming close to wrap her arms around his neck.

"It felt just like a date, you calling me up to ask me out," She beamed. "I loved it. And that restaurant! Amazing," Alice placed a gentle kiss on her husband's lips. He kissed her back, caught up in her gratitude, warmed by her contented glow.

"It was a great meal," Vaughn agreed, releasing Alice as she pulled away, grabbing her sweater from him. He followed her to the bedroom, watching with growing interest as she started to unzip her dress.

"A great meal!" Alice exclaimed, turning sharply in front of their open closet door. Slipping the dress from her shoulders, she let it drop to her feet. "It was so much more than a great meal, Michael. The atmosphere, the music, the waiters - I loved that they spoke Italian."

Vaughn just chuckled as he removed his wallet from his back pocket and opened the top drawer of his dresser. Alice picked up her dress and reached into the closet for a hanger.

"I'm trying to remember what he said when we were leaving," Alice narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. "Do you remember any of it? It was sorvando something."

As Vaughn reached to place his wallet inside the drawer, something struck him as odd. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew the contents of the drawer somehow did not look right. Absently, he answered Alice's question.

"Era un piacere che servindo lei," Vaughn started to pull off his suit coat, his eyes still scanning the dresser drawer. "It means 'it was a pleasure serving you'."

Alice was dumbfounded. She stood by the closet, staring at her husband. It wasn't until he looked up at her that he realized what he had done.

"Michael-" Alice began, her eyes wide.

"Sorry," Vaughn fumbled, quickly turning away as he loosened his tie. "I guess I never told you I took Italian in college," He laughed hollowly, busying himself with the buttons on his white shirt.

"You must've gotten an A-plus," Alice was still surprised, shaking her head as she kicked her high heeled shoes into the closet.

Vaughn took a deep breath, inwardly berating himself for the slip-up. As he reached to pull the cuff of his sleeve over his hand, he glanced at his naked wrist and was suddenly aware of what exactly was missing from his top drawer.

"Alice," Vaughn dropped his dress shirt onto the bed and slowly turned back to the dresser. "Where is my watch?"

Alice turned away from her own dresser, pulling a nightgown over her head. "Your watch? What watch?"

Vaughn pointed to his open drawer. "My watch. The one I keep in the top drawer," His voice softened. "My father's watch."

"Oh, right," Alice frowned slightly, coming to Vaughn's side. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

"Wanted what to be a surprise?" Vaughn demanded, his eyes widening.

Alice slipped her hand into his and squeezed it, smiling softly. "It was going to be a late wedding present," She explained. "When you stopped wearing the watch a year ago, you said it was because it hadn't worked in a long time. I took it to a watch repair shop to get it working again."

"You did what?" Vaughn pulled his hand from hers. "You shouldn't have done that, Alice."

"Why not?" Alice was shocked by Vaughn's strong reaction. "I thought you'd be glad. It's your father's watch - I thought you'd like to be able to wear it, to have it working again!"

"No," Vaughn slammed the dresser drawer shut in an uncommon display of anger. "I don't want to wear it," He shook his head. "I don't want it working. I never want it to work again." Realizing what he was saying, Vaughn stopped, feeling the weight of his words on his tongue. "I don't want it to start beating again."

Alice looked at him strangely. "Beating? Michael, what are you talking about?"

Vaughn didn't say a word as he quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Grabbing his keys and cell phone from the pocket of his suit coat, he started toward the door.

"Are you leaving?" Alice demanded, following him through the living room.

"I need to go out for a while," Vaughn mumbled, grabbing a jacket from the rack by the front door. He paused as Alice, standing behind him, made a small, startled noise. "Alice," Vaughn turned and caught her trying to control her emotions. "I know you were trying to do something nice," His voice dropped off. "That watch, it's just-"

"Don't explain," Alice's expression shifted from hurt to anger. "Just go."

Vaughn stood there a moment longer, the air between them seeming to crackle with the charge of their mutual frustration and disappointment. Without a word, Vaughn slipped out the door and didn't stick around to hear Alice forcefully shove the deadbolt into place.

Meanwhile, a few miles away, Sydney and Will sat on his couch discussing the day's events over take-out Chinese.

"I mean, it's just so impossible to understand," Sydney said, poking around a box of kung pao with her chopsticks. She extracted a broccoli floret and put it into her mouth, chewing slowly as her mind turned things over for the umpteenth time. "All of this craziness over a fifteenth century inventor."

Will swallowed a bite of egg roll. "You know, I was going over your mother's statements, and during her debrief she said more than once that she believes you're still in danger," He picked up a carton of sweet and sour pork and used his chopsticks to dig in. "Does that concern you?"

Sydney shook her head, sipping diet Coke through a straw. "Not really," She shrugged, her eyes darkening. "I almost hope Sloane comes after me. I'll put an end to this, once and for all."

Will nodded. "I hope so," He said, putting a huge bite of rice and pork into his mouth. Just then, the phone began to ring. Will gave Sydney an apologetic look as he continued to chew, smiling as she playfully smacked his arm.

"Yes, I'll get it," Sydney grinned and reached forward to pick up the phone from the coffee table. "Hello?"

Sydney's smile quickly faded as the words spoken on the other end were the last ones she ever expected to hear.

"Joey's Pizza?"

******

A/N: Thanks again for the thoughtful reviews. I am continually educated and inspired by your humble opinions. If you'll allow me to be greedy – keep `em comin'!