Chapter Thirteen: Truth Shall Set You Free
"Sydney, open your eyes."
Her senses assaulted by an unpleasant odor, Sydney's eyes fluttered open as her head snapped back, repelled by the scent. She knocked heavily against the high-backed chair in which she sat before groaning as she tipped her head forward and attempted to lift her hand to rub the spot that now throbbed with pain. Immobile, her hand remained idle as Sydney struggled to focus on it, blinking repeatedly as the fog of imposed sleep slowly lifted from her mind.
Sydney inhaled deeply, her eyes narrowing as she took in and began to understand the sight of her arm in shackles, strapped to the arm of the stiff wooden chair. Shifting her gaze, she looked at her other arm; it was secured, as well. A puzzled look crossed her face as Sydney scanned the length of her body. A strap across her chest, waist and ankles kept her seated, her body uncomfortably upright. Swallowing hard, Sydney forced herself to raise her head.
"That's a good girl," Arvin Sloane smiled. He resealed the bottle of smelling salts and set it on the table next to his chair. "How are you feeling?"
Sydney's eyes went cold, narrowed at the man who sat before her. He looked casual, almost relaxed, in an off-white linen suit, the collar of his pale blue shirt open at his neck.
"Never better," She said darkly.
"Glad to hear it," Sloane leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "I'm sorry for the restraints, but I can't risk losing you again," He smiled benevolently. "Imagine my dismay to awake that morning and find you gone. But you don't remember, do you? How well I treated you? How nicely we were getting along?"
"You're insane," Sydney hissed, her eyes aflame.
Sloane's brow furrowed as he clucked his tongue. "Come now," He coaxed soothingly. "Let's not be hostile, Sydney. There's no need for that," He paused, watching her carefully as she struggled to contain her anger. "Our time to talk like this will be brief. I want to ask you some questions before… well, before you don't remember even having this conversation."
Behind her, Sydney could hear something or someone approaching, the sound of wheels on the wooden floor. She stole a glance around the room, surprised to find herself in a lavish study. Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the walls. Behind the chair where Sloane now sat was an enormous marble-topped desk; it occupied space in front of an immense window that was shrouded in regal maroon velvet drapery.
Sydney glanced to her left as Sark suddenly appeared – in a wheelchair. She couldn't help herself; she stared.
"That's not entirely polite," Sark met her eyes as he wheeled himself to Sloane's side, a silver tray on his lap. He placed it on the table next to Sydney's chair; upon it sat a syringe and a glass bottle containing a clear liquid. "Didn't your mother ever instruct you not to stare?"
"My mother-" Sydney stopped short of pointing out what would be painfully obvious to Sark, that her mother had been the one to put him in the wheelchair. Instead, she held her tongue, swallowing the drive to speak. It was best, she felt, to remain mute in the face of calculated provocation.
"Ah, yes, your mother," Sloane set his hands in his lap, his fingers interlaced, a strange, small smile on his lips. "She contacted me not an hour ago. She's on her way here, to join us. Won't that be nice?"
Sydney's eyes darted to Sloane's, her pulse quickening. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself as her mind ran through a thousand possible explanations. It was possible it was a ploy by the CIA; it was possible her mother had escaped. Sydney was not above believing that anything was possible.
"You have nothing to say about that?" Sloane prompted expectantly.
"What am I supposed to say?"
"Well, you and I both know that up until this morning, your mother was in CIA custody," Sloane replied, delighting in the spark of surprise he saw in Sydney's eyes. "You don't think it was just dumb luck that your father was able to capture her, do you? No, my dear, that was all part of our plan. A plan which, for the most part," He glanced over at Sark. "Went off without a hitch."
Sydney looked from Sloane to Sark and back again. She was utterly confused and unsure what to believe. Every fiber of her being wanted to trust her mother, to put faith in the things she had told her in the CIA holding cell. But something about Sloane's manner, his easy-going re-telling of the events… Sydney's mind flooded with doubt.
"I don't know why your mother let you hold the gun," Sark spoke up, his ice blue eyes showing genuine surprise. "It's a good thing you were half-drugged. I've seen you in action, I know your aim isn't usually so poor."
Sydney shook her head, struggling for clarification. "No. My mother shot you," She said deliberately. "She was helping me escape."
"No, Sydney. I'm afraid I have you to thank for my newest fashion accessory," Sark waved a hand over his chair. "It doesn't go with any of my suits, but thank you, anyway." His sarcasm was crisp, his smile benign. Sydney was reminded of why she despised him as much as she did.
"You see," Sloane began, leaning forward, his expression earnest. "Your mother released you a little sooner than we had planned, but it's all worked out for the best. Irina allowed herself to be taken into custody, and now she's been able to get information from your father regarding how close, or in this case, how far the CIA is to finding out what exactly I have planned," Sloane smiled again, pointedly meeting Sydney's eyes. "Just as before, your father has played right into her hands. I'm beginning to agree with your mother that Jack Bristow really is a fool."
Sydney's eyes were blazing. She leaned forward as far as her restraints would allow.
"Go to hell."
Sloane laughed outright, a deep belly laugh that echoed off the walls. He stood slowly and reached out to stroke Sydney's hair. "All in good time, my dear," He assured her, bending to place a kiss on her forehead.
Sydney seethed, nearly growling at him as he came near. She closed her eyes to his touch, turning her head away as his lips grazed her skin.
Sloane walked leisurely to a cabinet across the room and poured himself a drink. After taking a sip, he turned slowly, his eyes dark.
"The only thing we didn't count on was you being returned to active duty quite so soon," He leaned against the cabinet, his arms crossed. "The operation in Nepal didn't go according to plan. My good friend Kudar Mujari ended up dead."
"She told me he was an enemy of yours," Sydney said quietly. "She was going to ask for his help in bringing you down."
Sloane chuckled before draining the glass in his hand. "Is that the story she told you? That's brilliant," He grinned. "Your mother always was a convincing liar."
Sydney inhaled deeply, fighting her building rage. At the moment, she didn't know who she was angrier with – Sloane or her mother.
"Mr. Sark will see that you're comfortable," Sloane set down his empty glass and came back to Sydney's side, resting a hand on her shoulder. "I have business to attend to, and then I'll return and we'll see what we can do about this attitude of yours," He glanced back at the syringe on the tray just before running a hand through Sydney's hair once again. "Just relax, Sydney. You'll be with me for quite some time – it's best you just accept that." With that, he turned and exited the room, closing the door on his way out.
"How can you stand him?" Sydney snapped at Sark as he wheeled himself closer, stopping no more than a foot from where she sat.
"I don't think you realize how lucky you are, Sydney," Sark tilted his head, regarding her casually, his lips curled into a smile. "You're going to be a part of something truly amazing. The realization of a destiny."
"When I told Sloane to go to hell? I hope you know I meant you, as well."
"Nice," Sark nodded, amused. His eyes traveled the length of her body and stopped at the heart-shaped pendant at her neck. He leaned forward and touched it, his finger lingering on the polished silver surface. He smirked. "A gift from your CIA boyfriend?"
Sydney returned the smile as her voice dripped with caustic sweetness. "No," She replied. "I picked it up at the Galleria for $12.99. I think they had some left, if you'd like to pick one up for-" She frowned suddenly, tilting her head in mock sympathy. "No, wait. She's dead, isn't she?"
Sark's smile immediately transformed into a look of hatred as he drew back his arm and backhanded Sydney across the face.
"Shut up!" He commanded fiercely, losing his cool. It was out of character for him to do so, and Sydney was pleased to know she had struck a chord.
"You surprise me, Sark," Sydney turned her head and spat blood onto the oriental rug bordering her chair. "I didn't think you were capable of the more tender emotions."
"That's the first loss for which I have you to thank," Sark seethed. He wheeled himself backward, knocking against the chair Sloane had occupied. "My legs are the second."
Sydney glowered. "You have Sloane to thank for those losses, not me," She said pointedly. "Look at you. You're like his lapdog, and what do you get for it? Allison is dead and your legs are useless. Why stay loyal to a man who would allow you to become a cripple?"
"I'm not crippled!" Sark shouted defiantly as Sydney fought the urge to smile. She had played right into Sark's insecurities by using his one weakness: vanity. Sark breathed deeply, calming himself as he realized what Sydney was trying to do. "You know," He leaned forward. "I don't have to wait for Sloane to give you that shot. I could do it now."
Sydney nodded toward her bound arms. "Go ahead," She challenged. "It's not like I can fight you off."
Sark was about to speak again when the door opened and Sloane returned, coming to Sark's side. He smiled at Sydney, looking even more at peace than he had before.
"Sydney, I have good news. Your mother has just arrived."
Crawling on their stomachs, inching forward with their elbows, Vaughn and Weiss nestled among a grove of trees and overgrown bushes. Once in position, Vaughn reached forward to clear away a low-hanging branch before raising a pair of binoculars to his eyes.
"Alpha Base, this is Boy Scout," He spoke quietly into his comm link. "Derevko has just walked through the front door."
"Copy that, Boy Scout," Jack Bristow keyed his comm, glancing around at the backup agents sitting with him inside the van parked not more than a mile from the Italian villa. "Alpha Team, we have confirmation that Derevko is inside the building."
"You should see this place," Vaughn handed the binoculars to Weiss. "High stone walls, guarded entry. It's a fortress."
"It's amazing what a little blood money will buy," Weiss lifted the binoculars to his eyes and let out a low whistle. "Wow. You wonder why Sloane would want to own something so permanent when he's constantly on the move."
"I wouldn't be so sure that he owns it," Vaughn replied, readjusting the comm in his left ear. "He's probably just borrowing it."
"From who? The mafia?" Weiss scanned the building with the high-powered lenses before switching on his own comm. "Magic Man to Alpha Base. I count three armed guards at the entrance – one at the door, two on the roof."
"Copy that, Magic Man," Jack took a deep breath, his eyes dark. He was conscious not to let his misgivings about Irina's involvement show in his face even as the thoughts played endlessly in his mind. "Alpha Team," He forced himself to stay focused. "Stand by for my signal."
Inside the formidable dwelling, Sydney was trying to remain calm as she heard footsteps on the hardwood behind her. A smirk from Sark gave away what Sydney had already suspected; her mother was approaching.
"Sydney," Sloane appeared beside her, his smile unsettling. "Say hello to your mother."
"Sydney, sweetheart," Irina walked up behind Sloane and smiled lovingly. "How are you?"
Sydney stared up at her mother, her expression hard even as tears pooled in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, unwittingly sending them tumbling down her cheeks.
"I know, darling," Irina reached out to wipe the tears away with her hand. "I've missed you, too."
"Now that we're a big happy family again," Sark interrupted, clearing his throat. "Can we get on with this, please?"
"Patience," Sloane placed a hand on Sark's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I think perhaps we should let mother and daughter get reacquainted. Mr. Sark and I will go see to the arrangements and be sure that everything is in place," He began to walk toward the door and then stopped, turning slowly. "Irina, are our visitors outside?"
Irina raised a finger to her lips to silence Sloane as she pointed to one of her faux diamond earrings. Carefully, she reached up and twisted it before she began to speak.
Outside in the van, Jack raised a finger to his comm, listening closely. "Stand by. We've got audio."
"Yes, Arvin," Irina nodded, still smiling. "Two teams, one out front and one out back. And a recon van parked about a mile away."
"What the?" An agent sitting next to Jack turned to him with a puzzled expression. "Why is she giving away our location?"
Jack looked stricken, his eyes wide. "Alpha Team, hold steady," He picked up his satellite phone as it began to ring.
"Jack, this is Kendall," He thundered from his position at the L.A. ops center. "What the hell is Derevko doing?"
"I don't know," Jack admitted, shaking his head, trying desperately to deconstruct her intentions. "This wasn't the plan."
"I realize that," Kendall shouted. "I warned you, Jack. If this gets out of hand-"
"I'll get back to you," Jack slammed down the phone and keyed his comm again. "Alpha Team, be on alert. Signal coming at any time."
"Jack sounds a little weird," Weiss mused, glancing over at Vaughn. "What do you think that means?"
"It means that his ex-wife is inside that fortress with his daughter and all hell is about to break loose," Vaughn kept a vigilant watch through the binoculars. "I think I'd sound a little weird, too."
"When do we leave?" Irina questioned, casually tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'll go up to the roof to make sure the helicopter is prepared to depart," Sark wheeled himself to the door.
"Stay there," Sloane called after him. "We'll come to you," He turned back to Irina. "It's nice to have you back with us, Irina. I admit, I questioned your loyalty after you released Sydney sooner than we had discussed, but I'm a forgiving man," He shot a glance in Sydney's direction before continuing. "And you've done your job very nicely."
"Thank you for welcoming me back," Irina bowed slightly, an expression of gratitude on her face. "It's a pleasure working with you, Arvin. As always."
Sloane beamed, smiling broadly. He rubbed his hands together and then turned to leave. "I have a few last minute preparations to make. I'll be back momentarily." With that, he was gone, leaving Irina and Sydney alone.
Irina turned around slowly to face her daughter, the smile returning to her lips. She reached up and twisted the earring again before extending a hand to smooth Sydney's hair back from her forehead.
"Don't touch me," Sydney hissed, jerking her head back. "I don't want anything to do with you," She tried desperately to swallow her tears, squeezing her eyes closed. "I can't believe you did this again, to me, to Dad."
"Sydney, listen to me," Irina grasped Sydney's face in her hands, forcing their eyes to meet. "I've told you before, truth takes time. This will be resolved very soon, and it will all be revealed to you. Please, trust me."
"Trust you?" Sydney demanded, anger flashing in her eyes. "No, Mom. I've made that mistake too many times. I was so stupid in L.A., believing that you wanted to protect me, that you were going to help me defeat Sloane. I can't believe I fell for that!"
"I know it's hard to understand," Irina released Sydney's cheeks and stood up straight, a pained look in her eyes. "But this is all part of a bigger plan, one that will be made known to you very soon-"
"I'm sick of your-" Sydney suddenly stopped short, her eyes catching on Irina's earrings. "Wait, Mom – are you transmitting this? Can Dad hear me? Dad!" Sydney struggled against her restraints, trying to lean forward so her voice would be heard. "Dad! It's all a set-up!"
"He can't hear you!" Irina shouted over her, laying a hand on Sydney's arm, squeezing her tightly. "I turned the comm off. He can't hear you," She stared meaningfully into Sydney's eyes. "Don't waste your breath."
"Wait," Sydney shook her head. "If it's off now, then it was on…" Her voice trailed off, her face crumpling as tears sprang to her eyes once again. "Mom, I don't understand…"
Irina let go of Sydney's arm as footsteps sounded behind them. Casually, she reached up and turned the earring again before turning around to smile at Sloane as he approached.
"We're all ready," He nodded. "Now all we need to do is give Sydney the shot and be on our way," He pointed towards the table next to Sydney's chair, the sharp needle of the syringe gleaming in the soft overhead light.
Sydney glanced over at the needle and then up at her mother, a look of panic crossing her face. She was trying desperately to sort all of this out, to make sense of what was happening. Fragments of logic and truth were squeezed out by her fear and frustration; thoughts were coming too quickly for her to decipher what she was seeing, to filter out what was real from what was not.
"Audio back online," Jack pressed the comm in his ear, listening carefully. "What was that? A dropped transmission?" He turned to one of the agents beside him who was monitoring the audio relay from the satellite, watching the grids on a computer screen and adjusting levels on the digital recordings.
"No," He tapped a few keys on his laptop. "It was more like the transmission was turned off for a moment for two. I'm not getting a digital replay on the echo relay."
Jack's brow furrowed as he continued to listen, intently following the conversation as Irina and Sloane discussed how long the flight would be, how much of something to give to Sydney. Lost in concentration, Jack didn't notice the second agent in the van muttering to himself as he hurriedly shuffled through his belongings, checking pockets of his flak jacket.
"What's wrong, Baker?" The agent at Jack's side spoke up, glancing over at the frantic man in the corner.
"Uh," Baker stammered, checking inside his jacket before looking up at Jack, his eyes wide. "I think I misplaced my gun."
"What?" Jack demanded, alarmed. "How do you misplace a gun?"
Baker looked sick, his face pale. "Uh, well," He gulped, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "I had it before Derevko left the van," His voice was weak. "She bumped into me, hard, as I was helping her step out-"
"Alpha Team!" Jack was instantly on his comm. "We have confirmation that Derevko is armed! Prepare for my signal!"
Weiss leaned up on his elbows as he cocked his assault rifle. "All right, boys," He sang out. "We're stormin' the castle!" He glanced over to find Vaughn staring at him with a tired expression. "What?"
"That was dumb," Vaughn took a swipe at his shoulder. "Don't ever say that again."
"I thought it was cool," Weiss said defensively, frowning. He had no more time to dwell on it, however, as Jack's voice suddenly boomed in his ear.
"This operation is a go, Alpha Team! Move out!"
Inside the villa, Irina smiled at Sloane. "If you'll allow me, Arvin, I'll give Sydney the injection."
Arvin nodded, waving a hand in Sydney's direction. "Be my guest."
Irina turned and leaned across Sydney, shielding her from Sloane's view. Casually, she reached for the syringe with one hand as she used the other to stealthily unbuckle the restraint on Sydney's right wrist. Sydney stared up at her mother, glancing down at her free hand and then back up again, her eyes widening as Irina pulled back her jacket and lifted the edge of her shirt to reveal the butt of a gun that was tucked into the waistband of her jeans.
Outside, Vaughn and Weiss scrambled through the thick bushes and jogged towards the compound, weapons raised and ready. As they neared the front steps, they took aim at the guards and fired, darting behind a stone outcropping as the guards began to fire back.
When all was clear, they darted out and began to climb the stairs, firing as more guards appeared. Their gunfire was supplemented by agents behind them, the guards at the door falling quickly to the onslaught of bullets. Nearing the entrance, Vaughn and Weiss were leading the charge when another guard suddenly burst through the door, his gun blazing.
Weiss dove for cover behind a low wall bordering a flowerbed as the gunfire of fellow agents rang out around him. Vaughn fired at the guard, gaining ground when he was suddenly stopped by what felt to be a sledgehammer striking his chest. He stumbled back, desperately trying to keep his footing as he slammed against a brick wall, the low ledge hitting him just below his knees.
Tumbling over the edge, Vaughn was momentarily aware of falling, the wind rushing past him until it all ended in abrupt darkness, the whole of his world fading to black.
"Arvin," Irina said sweetly, slowly turning back around to face him, still using her body to hide Sydney from his sight. "Before I do that," She motioned over her shoulder toward her daughter. "There's one thing I wanted to say to you."
Arvin returned the smile, sliding his hands into his pockets. "What's that?"
Irina's eyes went cold, her expression suddenly hard as she reached beneath her shirt and withdrew the gun. "Say hello to Emily for me."
In one fluid motion, Sloane pulled his hand from his pocket to reveal a weapon of his own. Before Irina could react, he lifted it to her chest, his lips twisted into an evil snarl. "Tell her yourself," He growled as he fired the gun.
Irina flew back against Sydney's chair, her eyes wide, her mouth open in shock. As she slumped to the floor, she tossed her weapon up into the air.
Having freed herself from her shackles, Sydney rose to her feet in time to catch the gun in her right hand, place the muzzle between Arvin Sloane's startled eyes, and pull the trigger.
The weapon dropped from Sydney's hand as Sloane's lifeless body hit the floor with a thud. Sydney dropped to her knees, her face collapsing as a tortured groan escaped her throat. She pressed her hands over the gaping wound in her mother's chest, her fingers disappearing beneath a pool of crimson.
"Mom," Sydney moaned, tears rolling down her cheeks, her hair hanging loose as she pitched forward, sobbing. "Mom, please…"
"Sydney," Irina's voice was weak, her eyes half-closed. She clutched at Sydney's hands, prying them from her chest. "The truth…" She gasped. "The truth is… I love you," Irina lifted a hand to Sydney's face and brushed tears from her cheeks. "I've always loved you."
"Mom, stay," Sydney pleaded. "Don't go now. Don't. Not like this," She put her hands on her Irina's face, her palms wet with her mother's blood. "Please, Mom…"
"Sydney…" Irina's eyes closed as her breath caught in her throat. She gasped once more and then was still.
"Mom!" Sydney's anguished cry reverberated off the walls as loud shouts and footsteps sounded in the hallway, growing closer to the room in which she bent over her mother's body, clutching at her mother's shirt. "Mom, no," She collapsed against Irina's body, her tears unstoppable, waves of sobs rushing from her throat. "Mom…"
"Sydney!" Weiss was suddenly at her side, grabbing her arm, pulling her back from Irina's lifeless form. "Sydney, are you all right?" He searched for injuries, uncertain if the blood on her hands was her own. "Are you hurt?"
Sydney allowed Weiss to pull her to her feet as she sobbed quietly, struggling to catch her breath.
"Are you hurt?" Weiss repeated as more agents stormed into the room, stopping short when they stumbled upon the carnage.
"No," Sydney said quietly. She looked down at her mother, her eyes squeezing shut against the onslaught of fresh tears. "My mother is dead."
Weiss put his arm around Sydney's shoulders. "C'mon," He said gently. "Your dad is waiting outside."
Walking down the long corridor toward the front door, Sydney suddenly stopped, turning to grasp Weiss's jacket between her red-stained fingers.
"Vaughn," She cried, sniffing as a single tear slipped down her face. "Where's Vaughn?"
Weiss drew back from her, his eyes growing wide. "He was right next to me…" He turned around and scanned the hallway before switching on his comm. "Alpha Base, this is Magic Man. Any word from Boy Scout?"
Sydney bolted from Weiss's side, pushing past hurried medics, running out the front door. There were agents all around and she looked carefully at each of them, her desperation growing as her eyes fell upon unfamiliar faces.
"Vaughn!" She called out, reaching
the wall bordering the entrance at the top of the wide, stone steps. As she was
about to turn around and go back inside, she took a chance and glanced over the
edge. "Vaughn!" She screamed, alarmed to see him prone, unmoving, in the grass
some ten feet below.
Sydney sprinted down the steps,
taking them two at a time. She was instantly at Vaughn's side, kneeling next to
him, her hands on his face.
"Vaughn, wake up," She urged
breathlessly, tears once again flooding her eyes. "C'mon, Vaughn, please,"
Sydney's eyes scanned the length of his body, searching for injury. Vaughn's
flak jacket bore a telltale hole, and Sydney ripped it open, gasping at the
sight of the bullet trapped in his Kevlar vest, right above his heart.
Prying the bullet out with her
fingernails, Sydney tossed it aside into the grass and bent over Vaughn's body,
her face inches from his, her tears falling softly onto his cheeks.
"Vaughn," She pleaded, her face
crumbling, her chin quivering. "Vaughn, please wake up," Stroking his forehead,
smoothing back his hair, she leaned in and kissed his cheeks, his soft stubble
stinging her lips.
As if awakened by her tender
touch, Vaughn's eyelids fluttered open and consciousness came rushing back to
him. He found himself gazing into the dark pools of Sydney's eyes as she coaxed
him from darkness.
After pressing her lips to his
forehead once more, Sydney pulled back, drawing in a sharp breath when she saw
Vaughn's wide-open eyes. He studied her face for a moment, witnessing her tears
and the pain etched in her lovely face.
"Sydney," Vaughn propped himself
up on his elbow, reaching out to her, his palm grazing her cheek as her tears
caught on the tips of his fingers. "I love you. I've always loved you."
Before Sydney could think to utter a reply, Vaughn gently slid his hand to the back of her head, his fingers in her hair, and brought her lips to meet his own.
******
A/N: Have I mentioned that my reviewers are the best in the universe?
Well, ya are. Thanks.
