Title: The Lightkeeper
Author: UConn Fan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: Sydney's been gone for two years, and Vaughn is married to Alice. What happens when Sydney returns and is forced to accept the new changes that await her in Los Angeles.
A/N: Make it short; J.J. Abrams is a genius; looking for a job is a pain (don't ANY bookstores hire??); UConn & Duke men lost, but my UConn girls kicked the butts of the Dukie girls so Yay!!!!; got my permit, still to short to see over a steering wheel; less then a month until the Yankees first spring training game is on CBS!
**PLEASE** Read & Respond! Even if you hate it, please be constructive and tell me where I went wrong!
Dedication: To every sweet, wonderful, fabulous e-mail buddy I have that deserves e-mail.
"So you saw him," Irina grinned proudly as she set her daughter's favorite meal on the table.
"It wasn't on purpose," she pointlessly reminded her Mother as they started to eat.
Estimating that her daughter wasn't going to share more then that, she nodded and began on another topic. "You saw your Father?"
"Yes," she nodded. Sydney remembered the slightly awkward embrace the two had exchanged, which was followed by nearly an hour of conversation. As those things went there was an expected amount of awkward, silent moments, but for the most part they had managed to keep a good flow to the conversation. Apparently she had discovered a way to break open a relationship with Jack Bristow - two years of massive numbers of e-mail mixed in with a handful of scattered phone conversations.
"What did he say?"
"He seemed happy to see me," she shrugged.
"Well of course he is, you're his daughter."
Across the table she smiled at her Mother, deciding against reminding Irina that she and her Father were deeply estranged for several years. "This is good," she instead chose to comment as she ate her dinner. That meal, pork chops, had been one of her perennial favorites as a child. After two years away, it was nice to have something close to a home cooked meal.
"Good, it was always your favorite," she remembered with a pleased smile. "Perhaps we could have your Father over for dinner on Sunday night, unless you have other plans? I could make whatever you'd like."
Sydney smiled although still baffled by the true nature of her parent's relationship. Deep in her mind she supposed that parents were like that, regardless of how dysfunctional they could be. "That'd be nice," she agreed.
"Wonderful," she smiled and took a sip of her wine. "I'm sure your Father will be pleased," she commented as her daughter nodded her agreement. "You're going to see your friend's tomorrow?"
"Yes," she smiled. "I'm meeting Will and Francie for an early lunch at her restaurant."
"Your Father took me to her restaurant once. Of course your Father had to introduce me as a friend, but Francie did say we share a great resemblance, which I took as the highest compliment," she smiled as her daughter grinned back. There was no question that while she was now over fifty years old, Irina was still a beautiful woman, with a face full of lightly etched laugh lines and a handful of nearly chic streaks of gray in her otherwise chestnut hair. "I met both of your friends there. I believe your reporter friend knew who I was."
"He does," she agreed, her voice slightly strained. As much as she loved her Mother, she still ached to think of the trauma her organization had forced one of her best friends through.
"They both seemed like very lovely people, very friendly, warm individuals," she said before her voice lowered. "I'm not sure what amount of weight my opinion bears on your shoulders, but for what it's worth I'm grateful you've had such wonderful, honest people in your life when I was not."
Swallowing back her food, she nodded, "I met them in college. We were inseparable. For a long time . . . Francie thought I was insane for taking all of the languages that UCLA offered, and then she thought all of my bank trips were beyond absurd . . . I'm sure she'll find some aspect of my life that's still crazy," she smiled at the thought.
"And Mr. Tippin?"
"Will . . " She grew thoughtful before continuing. "Will loves me, very much, and for awhile he was . . . Confused. He'd do anything in the world for Francie and I. He's a good man, very loyal."
"Loyalty is not a trait to be easily overlooked," Irina commented as Sydney nodded, trying not to dwell on how her Mother acquired her drop of wisdom. "Were you ever in love with Mr. Tippin?"
"What?" Her head shot up. "No, nothing like that, ever. He was actually the one who introduced me to Danny . . ." She remembered, growing somber at the memory of the man she had loved.
"You're not nervous about seeing your friends again, are you?"
Her shoulders shrugged slightly and an embarrassed smile graced her features, "they've been my best friends for over ten years . . But so much has changed. When I left they weren't even *dating* - now they're getting married . . "
"Change can be good."
"It can be," she agreed as she looked down at her now empty plate. "I know they make each other happy, I guess . . . I'm just hoping that there's still a place for me."
Irina nodded, silently understanding that her daughter wasn't just referring to her place in Will and Francie's lives.
Sydney found the following morning reassuringly and surprisingly reminiscent of the mornings she remembered as a child. Her Mother woke her up halfway through Good Morning America and her favorite breakfast - French toast - was waiting. Sitting across the kitchen table from her Mother in her frog print pajamas she began to wonder how much of Laura Bristow was a figment of Irina's imagination and how much came from who she truly longed to be. After breakfast she showered, surprised to walk out and find her Mother had already set out an outfit, including the necessary undergarments and warm white socks, for her to wear that day. At thirty years old, no one had done that for her since she was six, and it left a slightly surprised and endearing impression upon her heart. There was more then abundant proof to indicate that Irina hadn't lied when she turned herself in a few short years ago - she had no ulterior motive then to want to be in her daughter's life again.
Irina was curled up contently on the warm colored sofa, reading a thick Russian novel when Sydney walked in. Setting her book down, she smiled warmly at her daughter; pleased that she had chosen to wear the outfit she had set out. It had been such a long time since she had been allowed to put an impact - at least a positive impact - on her daughter's life. Deep down Irina was too happy with recent events to question whether she deserved all that she was being given.
"You shouldn't be late meeting your friends," she insisted as she gestured to the car keys waiting on the coffee table.
"I shouldn't be," she assured her Mother, picking up the keys. "Thanks for letting me borrow the car," she smiled. This was a conversation she had imagined in her head several times when she was a teenager - obviously at the time the circumstances inside of her imagination were far different, but the foundation remained the same. Sydney was no longer a teenager, and now Irina Derevko, not Laura Bristow, was really her Mother. The important part was that she once again had a Mother, one who truly appeared to love and want her in her life. In her life she supposed the unexpected was all that could be expected.
"Drive safely!" She called as her daughter smiled and nodded, waving goodbye before slipping out the door.
The drive from her Mother's home to Francie's restaurant had taken ten minutes longer then her previous days journey to the CIA offices. Originally they had agreed to meet at the seamstress, but Will had e-mailed her saying the plans had changed; the three of them were going to have a brunch together at the restaurant before the two women headed off to 'laugh over dress patterns and fabrics', in Will's words.
Will had obviously never been tailored for a dress; she shook her head with a chuckle.
Although it was only the middle of the morning it was still a struggle to find a parking space within distance of Francie's restaurant. The sound of laughter could be heard even as she approached the restaurant door, and she was unable to stop a smile when she saw how popular Francie's restaurant had become, even with the usually lagging breakfast bunch. Walking in she searched the crowd for her friends, for once glad that she was tall.
"Hey, Syd!" A familiar voice called as she swirled around to see Francie and Will. Both wore face-splitting grins and were ecstatically waving her over.
"I've missed you so much!" Francie immediately pulled her into a tight hug as she embraced her friend back.
"You look so great!" Sydney complimented as her friend shrugged and smiled. "Hey you," she greeted Will as she hugged him.
"How was your flight?" Will asked as Sydney slid into the other side of the booth across from her
friends.
"It was a flight," she smiled and shrugged. "Let me see the ring!" She declared as Francie held out her left ring finger. "Oh Fran, it's beautiful," she said as her friend beamed. "Very nice taste in jewelry," she teased Will.
"Thank you," he smiled.
"I'm so happy your back in time Syd," Francie exclaimed as they ordered their breakfast.
"I wouldn't have missed this for anything," she promised.
"You know your more then welcomed to stay with us - " she started.
"Nonsense. You two are planning a wedding, you don't need me in your hair," she reassured them with a smile.
"Where are you staying?" Will questioned.
"With my Dad," she explained as they nodded. "This place is doing so well," she realized as she looked around the restaurant.
"A lot better then I ever thought," Francie agreed.
"Hey, how's work going for you?" Sydney asked Will. Even after two years Will clearly read the look in her eyes; she wasn't so interested in the actual work as she was in whom he could be working with.
"It's fine," he shrugged, making a mental note to pull her aside later. Although Jack Bristow had kept them updated as much as possible, he wondered just how much Jack had been telling Sydney.
"He's working with some seriously cute guys Syd," Francie spoke up.
"Goofy cute or hot cute?" Sydney asked as Will snorted.
"I'm right here!" He spoke up as the girls laughed.
"Hot cute. There's this one . . . Seriously Syd, I think I showed him one picture of you and I thought the guy was going to swoon. Except the guys married to a total bitch."
"Of course," Syd agreed and took a sip of her coffee.
"We see him a lot, so I'm sure you'll meet him soon. He's a great guy too, just as long as his wife isn't around."
"Alice isn't that bad," Will meekly defended as Sydney studied her coffee. Just as she had expected, they were referring to none other then Michael Vaughn. How many other Alice's are there out there, she wondered. "They've been through a lot, give her some credit."
"They haven't had an easy go of it," Francie agreed. "But that still doesn't excuse her for being a rude bitch," she looked at her fiancé before meeting her best friend's brown eyes. "Michael is going to be Will's best man, which is great. He's such a nice guy Syd; I really think you'll like him. So I tried to be polite and called and left her a message asking if she wanted to be a bridesmaid. Now I would have asked her out to lunch and asked her then but I don't think she ever leaves the house! So she called me back on my voicemail and tells me how rude *I* am for asking her such an important question on a answering machine!"
"Do you know her well?"
"I don't think anyone knows her well," Francie sighed with regret. "I've tried Syd, really hard to be nice to her, but it's just a completely uphill battle. Eventually I just gave up, it's too much of a hassle, especially when she turns around and yells at *me* for being a horrible person."
"At least you tried," she pointed out with a shrug. As horrible as it was, she was relieved that in her absence she hadn't lost her best friend to Alice Vaughn. If that had happened she wasn't sure she how she would have reacted; she was simply relieved that she'd never have to find out.
"You'll meet them at the rehearsal dinner," Francie assured her.
"I have to wait an entire week?" She teased. The wedding was the following Saturday - eight days and counting. If her arrival had been any later, they might not have been able to make adjustments to her bridesmaid gown.
"Trust me your not missing anything by not meeting Alice Vaughn," Francie sighed. "You know how when we were in college all the ugly girls or bitches got the really great guys?" She asked as Sydney laughed and nodded. "It reminds of me that."
All Sydney could do was shake her head in amusement, as Will grew slightly embarrassed. "I'm sure she must have her good qualities, if this man is as wonderful as you say he is and he fell in love with her," she pointed out. Yes, her mind bitterly reminded her, Alice had always seemed like a nice person. The life Alice and Michael had shared since Sydney's departure had not been an easy one, and she knew that. Bitter circumstances could ebb away even the nicest persons well-intentioned soul. If anyone knew something about that, she knew it would be herself.
Deciding that this conversation needed to be turned in a slightly less sensitive subject, Sydney smiled at her friends and spoke. "You know neither one of you ever really told me what happened between you too," she reminded them.
"Syd, really . . " Will started.
"It's really boring," Francie agreed.
"I want to know," she insisted with a smile.
"It's the most anti-climatic story," Will shot back. All Sydney did was shake her head and smile, patiently waiting for her friends to fess up.
"It was less then a month after you had left, and we decided to celebrate my anniversary with the restaurant by cooking this ridiculously huge dinner for ourselves at apartment," Francie started.
"Francie was trying to get the whip cream for dessert but she had the can thing and it wouldn't come out," Will started to chuckle at the memory as Francie grew embarrassed. "Sorry," he apologized to his fiancée before looking back at his friend. "So, she turns the nozzle so she can look at it, and it *finally* works, but it sprays all over her chin!"
The three of them were laughing as Sydney spoke, forcing herself to keep her laughing low. "That still doesn't explain how you two ended up together!"
"Okay," Will's laughter stopped, as he grew slightly more serious. "Francie tries to get all of the whip cream off of her chin, but she ends up with this massive glob on the bottom of her chin," he explained as Sydney struggled to not laugh at the image. "So I reach over to wipe it off her chin and somehow my lips end up on hers."
"See?" Francie shrugged. "It's really boring."
"I think it's really sweet," Sydney corrected. In truth it was a sweet story, the type you could sit and tell your grandchildren around a fire without worrying about corrupting their tiny minds. It was a type of sweet story that she'd never have the privilege to tell grandchildren - after all, you can't have grandchildren without children and it's not looking promising on that front, she remembered sadly. "So, what color is my dress?"
"Light blue - it's so pretty Syd, I really think your going to love it," Francie smiled.
"It's nice," Will agreed. "Remember all of those weddings we went to right after college?" He asked her as she nodded. After their college graduations their had been an influx of weddings to attend. "Most of them had some really horrific color patterns and dresses, but I promise you this one is *nothing* like that."
"I'm sure I'll love it," she smiled.
"What was the Peace Corp like?" Francie questioned.
"It was so . . . *Exciting*," she recalled the recent memories fondly. "I'm not sure if it was where I was or because it was my first opportunity to teach, and I was able to really help those kids by teaching them. I worked with some really wonderful people, a lot of great volunteers from the Peace Corp and other countries . . . " She brushed hair behind her ear before looking at her friends. "I always wanted to be a teacher, for as long as I could remember, but after I lost my Mom," she carefully worded, well aware that Francie was still unaware of the true nature of her former employment and her families complicated history. "Part of me just went through the motions because *she had*," she shrugged. "Being in Armenia, working with those kids . . . I finally realized I actually had a *passion* for teaching, that I wasn't just doing it because she had but because it was what I was really meant to do," her smile widened as her friend's smiles grew in response. "It was a really awesome feeling."
"I wish I did something that awesome," Francie commented and took a sip of her drink.
"Hey, you own one of the most successful restaurants in Los Angeles!" Will pointed out, leaning over to kiss his fiancée's cheek. "If nothing else works, just remember that you're marrying the most wonderful man in California in a week," he teased as they all laughed.
Sydney found the meal she shared with her friends to be slightly reassuring. There was one obvious fact that she was unable to ignore however - this wasn't the life she had left behind. It was still Los Angeles, they were still the people she loved and who loved her, but everything was different. After all, her internal wit questioned, how many times did Francie and Will lean over to kiss each other during dinner *before* you left for Armenia? Not only that, there were quite references to people, events and places that meant nothing to her. She had no idea what 'turnips' or 'Frohike's here' made them laugh - other then Will's former obsession over the cult hit, 'The X-Files'. Not that her friend's weren't going out of their way to share the anecdotes with her, to assimilate her back into their lives - they were - but even that would take time.
The Sydney Bristow who had left Los Angeles was not the one who had returned, and she was slowly realizing her foolishness at believing it would be the same Los Angeles she had abandoned.
One thing that hadn't changed - one thing she doubted ever would change - was Francie's fabulous fashion sense. The simple chiffon bridesmaids gown had fit her like a glove, and Sydney fell in love when she saw her best friend's wedding gown resting on a hanger. From the glow on her face whenever she was around Will to the blush on her cheeks when Sydney confidentially asked for every exact detail, it was clear as glass that they were happy together and would remain as such for the rest of their lives.
Stepping into the house early Friday evening, Sydney was assaulted with the ambrosia smell of fresh baked cookies, a scent that hadn't greeted her homecoming in over two decades. Mother and daughter ordered pizza and relaxed in the living room, staying up to watch 'Gone With the Wind' together until the earliest hours of Saturday. During the movie - a favorite for both - she found herself sharing funny stories regarding teaching and her past with her Mother and receiving the same in return. They spoke about annoying students and Irina warned her about even more annoying parents. Her Mother was eager to hear all about Francie's wedding plans and how she and Sydney's other best friend had managed to get together. Of all the surprises in the world, Sydney discovered that no one was as big of romantic as Irina Derevko.
For Sydney Saturday was another slow day. Francie and Will were driving north for the day to meet with her family to finalize plans for the reception dinner and her Father had claimed that he had work to do. Instead she plodded around the house, watching cable television and baking with her Mother. In the evening they went down to the beach as the day's visitors slowly trickled out, leaving Mother and Daughter to eat a picnic dinner and enjoy the sunset.
On the other side of the city, the weekend wasn't going so peacefully for Michael Vaughn. After waking up to Alice berating him for his apparent inability to correctly wash colors, he escaped the house for an hour under the guise of walking Donovan. Unfortunately for him, in his absence his wife had discovered that their dog (*his* dog, his silently corrected her during her scolding) had apparently learned how to take books off of a bookshelf and had torn a book to shreds. To make matters worse the book was her copy of Louisa May Alcott's "A Modern Mephistopheles" - a cherished gift her late Father had given her upon her acceptance to Dartmouth's English program.
In his neck of the woods, Sunday was a slight improvement. Although his wife insisted she wouldn't go - he found himself unable to get her to leave the house for anything - he escaped in the late morning to go to the usual Vaughn Sunday dinner at his Mother's house. As always Brigitte was a warm, welcoming sanctuary from the storm, and his sister and brother-in-law were tactful enough not to mention his wife. Instead he cuddled his one-year-old nephew close and even agreed to a tea party with his nearly four-year-old niece. Eventually he knew he had to leave, and hesitantly he left shortly before darkness fell, accepting the leftovers his Mother always sent for Alice as well as his Mother's kind words. Brigitte was far from Alice's biggest fan, but she would never have wished ill fortune upon the girl - she had already experienced more then enough during her brief marriage.
At the Bristow residence - although Sydney wasn't entirely sure if she should refer to her Mother's as the Bristow's or the Derevko's - Sunday morning and early afternoon were busy. Once they had finished languidly reading through the paper, it was time to prepare for her Father's arrival. There was an unusual sprint in Irina's step when she spoke of Jack's forthcoming arrival, something that Sydney could never recall seeing as an adult. As soon as the dinner was warming up, and the house was clean from top to bottom, her Mother smiled brightly and retreated up the stairs to prepare for dinner. All Sydney did was get comfortable in the living room with a book and wonder just what to expect for the upcoming evening.
When her Father arrived promptly at six and dressed in his usual suit, she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Sydney had been the one to answer the door and smiled as her Father offered her a bottle of champagne for the evening. "To celebrate your homecoming," Jack explained as his daughter took his coat for him.
She smiled up at her Father as she heard her Mother walking into the room. Although her dress was simple and her make up a barely noticeable dusting on her features, Sydney's keen eye picked up on her Mother's need to look better for her Father. "Hello Jack," she greeted with a smile. Turning around briefly, Sydney hung up her Father's trench coat and was slightly surprised to turn around to see her parents in an embrace of welcome. Blinking only once, they were separated and she was left to wonder if it ever happened at all.
Dinner was served shortly after Jack's arrival in a dimly lit dining room. The entire atmosphere - from her parents sitting at opposite ends of the table to the silk flower arrangement that served as the centerpiece of the dining room table - was deja vu to the few childhood memories she had of her parents. The conversation between her parents not only flowed smoothly, but also was devoid of any sharp edges or an undercurrent of accusation and betrayal. They talked about her life, her time in the Peace Corps and her future plans - including Jack's offer that the CIA would gladly hire her in whatever capacity she wished. Although she smiled at her Father's offer, she had already set her mind that she wasn't going to enter the 'family business', not even in a role as meek as a linguist with the agency.
Irina's culinary skills far surpassed anything Sydney remembered, but she realized that her taste was far more advanced then it had been as a six year old. Even Jack complimented her on the exquisite meal. Everything on the table was made from scratch and, from Sydney's observations, all made from the top of Irina's head, free of any recipe books. Somehow in a mind full of world espionage and a life of deceit, there was a real shadow of Laura Bristow screaming to be released from her body.
For dessert her Mother had stumbled upon one of Sydney's downfalls in life with a delicious New York Cheesecake. She was far too busy enjoying the delicious dessert to mind that it was the one part of the evening that her Mother had not mastered. Apparently the Russian's don't teach the finer points of American desserts, her mind quipped as she inhaled her second piece.
"Darling, you must be exhausted, why don't you go take a shower?" Her Mother suggested after she declared she couldn't eat another bite, no matter how tempting the remaining pieces of cheesecake looked.
Carefully eyeing her Father, Sydney shook her head. While she logically knew they must have spent *some* time alone together during her two year departure, it still felt like an uneasy idea in the pit of her stomach. Surely they were two mature, intelligent adults, and they had spent a decade married; hell, they were technically still man and wife. However she never would have left the Mother and Father she had known alone without a few security guards and bars between them, and now her Mother was telling her it was fine to leave them alone in Irina's dining room, sipping wine and making chit-chat?
"It's fine sweetheart," Jack carefully soothed her, still not used to playing the roll of loving Father. "I won't leave until you come back down to say goodnight," he assured her.
Glancing between her parents again, she finally nodded her agreement. "Do you need help picking up -" she asked when she realized the table was still covered in their dishes.
"I'll take care of it, go enjoy a nice shower," Irina smiled at her. After a brief hesitation, she smiled at both of her parents and excused herself. Perhaps her parents would never be normal, her mind considered as she climbed the stairs towards the bathroom, but if she could leave them alone for an hour without them causing bodily harm to one another she'd be thrilled.
There was a certain sense of peace that came over her as she showered, knowing that both of her parents were nearby and seemingly communicating without violence. With the peace came a comfort she hadn't felt in so many years. Regardless of her own ability, and even her age - thirty-one had come and passed just weeks before - it was nice to know that her parents were there and they would not let anything happen to her. Occasionally it was just nice to be taken care of.
Even though her parents had seen her in her pajamas, they'd even changed her diapers in a world so far away; she decided not to change into her bedclothes yet. Instead she slipped on sweatpants and a tank top. Sitting on her Mother's guest bed, she blotted her hair until it was dry, taking her time brushing it as she heard various noises downstairs. Much to her relief everything sounded commonplace, nothing to alarm her nearly paranoid sense of environment.
An eerie, almost too peaceful calm had set over the lower level of the house as her bare feet reached the carpeted living room. Sydney enjoyed the sensations that her Mother's plush, soft carpet made on her toes as she walked towards the kitchen. Listening closely, she hoped that the silence wasn't caused by her Father leaning over to murder her Mother; then again, Jack had been known to kill for far less. Turning the corner, half expecting to see the kitchen covered in dirty pots, pans, dishes and one of her parents blood, she stopped cold.
Irina was leaned up against the stove, oblivious to the dishes that needed to be rinsed and set in the dishwasher. Instead she was quite obviously preoccupied. Her long arms were wrapped snugly around her ex-husband (husband? Sydney still wasn't sure) and Jack's arms were slung comfortably low on Irina's hips. Not only were they embracing, but also their lips were dueling passionately. So passionately that they didn't notice her as she stood there, in shock for a period of seconds, time that seemed to pass as molasses. Realizing that she didn't want to get caught staring, and that she was beginning to have trouble breathing; she quickly dashed back up the stairs.
Sitting on the bed, she looked at the alarm clock and regained her composure. Her parents . . . . Irina Derevko, enemy of the United States government (and also her Mother), was wrapped in a passionate embrace with loyal CIA employee Jack Bristow. There wasn't even a time in her memory when she recalled walking in on her parents. Her parents . . . It was quite simply the best and worst thing she could think of seeing. Blinking rapidly she finally processed that she was blinking away her tears. Seeing her parents apparently happy was marvelous. What child, no matter what age, didn't want their parents happy? The entire concept of her parents being happy with one another should have made it better for her.
The thought that really nagged at her mind, however, was one of pain. Not even her own parents were the same; they hadn't even been honest about their relationship! Just more evidence that Sydney didn't know where she belonged anymore. Apparently her absence, instead of hindering her parent's relationship, had let it progress. What else had her presence put a hindrance on? They were *kissing*, acting as though they were still husband and wife. Truth be known she wasn't entirely sure they *weren't*.
Looking at the red digits on her alarm clock, the large 7:48 that glared back at her, she wanted someone to talk to. She needed some confirmation that she was back for more then just Francie's wedding; that she was wanted there. No doubt her parents wanted her, but had they needed her in their life? As selfish as it was, without SD-6 and the Alliance to take down, the CIA hadn't needed her. If Sydney had one downfall in life, it was that she desperately wanted - perhaps, ironically, even need - to feel as though something in life *needed* her.
Leaning over Sydney picked up the phone, not caring who would be screening the call. Even after being away for two years she remembered every digit of every phone number that mattered, and her fingers dialed them with ease. Sniffling away her tears and while she berated herself for being so ridiculous, she didn't dare hang up the phone. There was a chance she'd never be that courageous again.
"Hello?" A voice answered after six agonizingly long rings.
"Hey," she responded, already searching her drawers for a pair of socks.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes . . . No . . . . I don't . . . I'm not sure," she confessed as she sat down on the bed and started to put on her socks. "Can you meet me?"
"Yeah, sure, where?"
"The warehouse? I can be there in fifteen minutes," she estimated, already traveling the route in her mind.
"We can't meet there Syd," his voice was apologetic.
"Why not?" She asked, panic rising in her heart. The ridiculous fear that it was where he now met with another asset had controlled her heart.
"They tore it down, about a year and a half ago."
"They tore it down?" She sat back down on the bed, the adrenaline she had just moments ago suddenly gone. They had torn down *their* warehouse? Didn't the city of Los Angeles realize how important that place was, she questioned. To an unknowledgeable outsider it was a run down building, an eyesore in a neighborhood that most preferred to ignore. However it had been her safe haven, the one place where she could look him in the eye, where she could speak without fear. Now it was gone.
"What about the pier? I can meet you there, unless you'd rather not -"
"Would you mind?" She asked softly. It was dark out, and she knew he had work the following morning. The last thing she imagined he'd want to do was go stand on a chilly pier at nearly eight at night with her, but he was her only option. Deep down she knew even if she had other options, she would have wanted it to be him.
"No, Syd, of course not," he gently reassured her. "I can be there in about an hour, is that okay?"
"That's good," she smiled. "Thank you," she whispered before hanging up the phone.
"I'm sorry," she whispered against the wind as he shook her head, silently indicating that she had nothing to be sorry for.
"Here," he replied, handed her a Styrofoam coffee cup. Seconds later he found himself taking pleasure in the brief look of pleasant surprise that flashed across her face when she realized he had remembered how she took her coffee.
"My Dad was over for dinner tonight - it was my Mom's idea, to have this big family dinner and stuff . . . which was fine. It was even sort of nice," she remembered with a small smile. "Then a little while ago I walked into the kitchen to find my parents *kissing* . . . I don't know," she shrugged. "It's not that I'm against them having a relationship, but seeing them . . . It just reminded me how much had changed. I've been back for a few days and nothing is the same. Everything is so different . . . Not only things with my parents but Will and Francie, the CIA, nothing is how I remember. I don't know if I belong anymore, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe I shouldn't even be looking to see if I belong, maybe -"
"Sydney," he rested against the side rail, setting his free hand on the railing close to her. During their previous meetings at the pier he hadn't been able to look at her, but on that evening he found himself leaning against the railing, his back to the water and his eyes on her face. The lights from the Ferris wheel and fun in the distance lent a beautiful glow to her face, and he was relieved that she wasn't crying. "This is still your life," his tone was stern but gentle. "Regardless of how you feel right now, you still belong here, you still have a place . . . Maybe you need to look a bit harder to find it, but your niche is still here," he assured her before glancing briefly at the water. "Whether you believe this or not, your life has missed you," he said before looking down at his coffee. "I've missed you," he whispered the reminder before looking up to meet her eyes.
Her brown eyes briefly met his, and he found himself nearly unable to read them. There was no doubting that she was pleased that he had missed her - and while he might not have been waiting for her in Los Angeles, he had missed her far more then he should have. When her hand leaned over to cover his, he found himself enjoying the feel of her cool hand on his too much for a married man. While his eyes glanced away, he flipped his hand over so his thumb could run over the top of her hand.
They stayed silent for a wonderful, suspended moment in time, oblivious to the crowds passing them by. There had been no legitimate reason for her to call him; he was no longer her handler, she wasn't even sure if he handled anyone anymore. He hadn't hesitated once, and he didn't seem in a rush to leave. She had needed him, and he had come, just as he always had; even after two years apart it was the most consistent relationship she had ever known.
"So," he looked up with a crooked smile on his face. "Your parents?" He questioned as she laughed.
"My parents," she agreed as she took a sip of her coffee.
"That's . . . That's weird," he decided, his grin growing wider as she responded with laughter.
"Very weird," she nodded. In the dim light of night her eyes met his and smiled, gently squeezing his hand before looking back out at the water before them. "Did you know my Mom wears a wedding ring?" She looked at him as he met her eyes.
"I remember your Father had some of the guys in the OGC figure out whether they were still married soon after she turned herself in. Is it possible they never officially divorced?"
Looking back out at the water she shrugged her shoulders, allowing her hand to still rest in his. "With my parents anything is possible."
"Don't you believe they'd tell you if they'd . . . Rekindled what they once had?"
"I don't know," she shrugged again. "I've been thinking about it . . . Not about now, but about everything that happened . . . Growing up, my Father could just have well told me the truth, led me to hate my Mother. Instead he let me believe this lie, and while I am still upset that he kept it from me for a long time, don't you think it would have served him to tell me the truth? He could have led me to hate her, and while it's not any better that he let me adore someone who never really existed, don't you think it's unusual that he didn't try to poison me against her? Why wouldn't he do that, why wouldn't he make me hate her as much as he hated her?"
"Because he loved you," he suggested quietly before meeting her eyes. "Maybe because, despite everything, he loved her too. If you believed the lie, he could believe the lie, and he could ignore the reality that his wife was a fraud. That the happiest years of his life were someone else's illusion," he spoke confidently before once again growing quiet. "Maybe he still loves her now."
"How can he?" She asked, searching his eyes for answers she might never find. "How can he look at her and not hate her for all she did to him? She *lied* to him and then *abandoned* him!" She whispered harshly, the wind whipping her hair in every direction.
"You still love her," he carefully pointed out.
"That's different, she's my Mother!"
Vaughn shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, briefly contemplating his next words. "My Mother used to tell us that the love between a husband and wife, if it's real, is very different then the love for child, with the exception of one basic principle - it never ends. You *always* love your children, no matter what they do and how much they hurt you, you always find it in your heart to love them . . . " He trailed off, momentarily lost in thought before finishing his dialogue. "In a marriage, a *real* marriage," he emphasized; trying not to recall how his Mother insisted that what he and Alice shared was not a real marriage. "It's the same thing. She hurt him, she deceived him, and in a way he hurt and deceived her too. Your Father is not objective when it comes to her, he never has been, and maybe he looks at her . . . Maybe he sees all the good that she wants to have, the parts of Laura that she wants to really be . . . Maybe he sees them and loves her for it. Hell, maybe he loves her more now because she's not his docile literature professor wife but someone who can challenge him and knows just as much about his line of work as he does."
"I don't remember my Mother ever being docile," she smiled as he shot her a wry look. A few seconds later she was serious as she nodded, "I understand what your saying."
"Syd . . . Your parents . . . They're *never* going to be what other people might consider normal. So what?" He shrugged. "The life that we lead . . . A CIA Agents life is, by definition, abnormal. Your parents have found what works for them. They probably hope that makes it *easier* for you, especially since your trying to assimilate yourself back into this world. This is *still* where you belong Syd, it might take sometime, but you cannot doubt that."
"How can you still do that?" She asked, unable to quench the smile from her face.
"Do what?" His eyebrows rose.
"Make me feel better?"
"I don't know, but it certainly wasn't in the handbook," he muttered as she laughed.
"Francie and Will think I'm staying with my Father," she spoke up. "If you talk to Francie, that's what she thinks. I'm not sure if Will believes it or not, but she should," she explained. "Mom actually met Francie when I was gone," she remembered as he looked at her, patiently waiting for her to continue. "Dad took her to Francie's restaurant one night and she was there . . . I guess Dad implied that she was his girlfriend or something . . . " She shrugged. "Which I guess she is," she chuckled when she realized how correct she her simple analysis was. "My parents are dating," she looked at him.
Michael's response was similar to hers, a chuckle and nod at the absurd reality of Jack and Irina's relationship. They shared a few minutes of laughing before he grew serious. "Syd, if you want to know exactly what's going on, you should talk to your parents about it. You're their daughter; you have a right to know a certain amount about their relationship. I'm not saying you have the right to know every little detail, but you do deserve the truth."
Sydney let out a sigh and nodded. "My family is never going to be normal."
"That doesn't have to be a bad thing," he gently reminded her. "Trust me Syd . . . Normal is . . . Highly overrated," he sighed when he thought back to his own on-going attempt at normalcy.
"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I shouldn't be bothering you -"
"Syd, you're not bothering me," he vowed. "It's not easy getting readjusted to a life you left. You've changed, the people in your life has changed . . . All I can tell you is that it *is* going to take some time, but don't stop trying. The Sydney Bristow I remember never gave up," he reminded her as her smile grew.
"I'm not very good at defeat," she laughed.
"Will and Francie's wedding should keep you busy, and I'm sure Francie is going to need all the help you can offer if she's going to keep running the restaurant and cater her own wedding."
"She's insane, isn't she?" Sydney laughed. "Only Francie would try to cater her own wedding."
"Catering the wedding herself was important to you, almost as important as making sure you were her maid of honor."
A sober expression crossed her beautiful features as she nodded, accepting the full magnitude of his words. "She waited until I was able to be her maid of honor," she swallowed as he nodded.
"They weren't going to get married unless you were there Syd. That's how much you *still* mean to both of them. You, Will and Francie are always going to be best friends, you're always going to be family. Obviously the dynamics have changed with Will and Francie's relationship, but it doesn't take away from what you share with both of them. They love you and you love them. People need you here Syd, not just Will and Francie but . . . But everyone," he faltered.
Looking at him, he was delighted to see her smiling, "thank you," she whispered.
His first response was to tell her it was his job, but that was no longer the case. Sydney Bristow hadn't been his job in two years, but her call had nonetheless sprung him into action. Deciding it was about time he tore his eyes away from her, at least briefly, he looked down at his watch. To his surprise it was quickly nearing ten at night.
"What time is it?" She asked, sipping her coffee and still clinging to his hand.
"9:57," he explained. Before she could respond, the echo of her beeper surrounded them. With hesitation she let go of his hand to read the number.
"It's my parents," she sighed and realized that while they were never going to be Parents of the Year, Jack and Irina were most likely worried about where she was. "Remind me why I shouldn't throw this into the Pacific," she whispered.
"I think one beeper into the ocean per lifetime is the limit," he teased as her dimples once again appeared. "You should get going, before your Father sends out a search team."
"He would do that too, wouldn't he?" She chuckled as he nodded. "Thank you -"
"Stop thanking me Sydney," he gently admonished. She nodded, trying to understand. She was no longer his asset; he wouldn't have come if he hadn't wanted to. "If you need me . . . You still have my number," he reminded her as her smile grew and she nodded.
Sydney smiled and nodded at him one more time, cradling her coffee between her hands as she turned and walked in the direction of her car.
Author: UConn Fan (Michele)
E-Mail: LoveUConnBasketball@yahoo.com
Story Summary: Sydney's been gone for two years, and Vaughn is married to Alice. What happens when Sydney returns and is forced to accept the new changes that await her in Los Angeles.
A/N: Make it short; J.J. Abrams is a genius; looking for a job is a pain (don't ANY bookstores hire??); UConn & Duke men lost, but my UConn girls kicked the butts of the Dukie girls so Yay!!!!; got my permit, still to short to see over a steering wheel; less then a month until the Yankees first spring training game is on CBS!
**PLEASE** Read & Respond! Even if you hate it, please be constructive and tell me where I went wrong!
Dedication: To every sweet, wonderful, fabulous e-mail buddy I have that deserves e-mail.
"So you saw him," Irina grinned proudly as she set her daughter's favorite meal on the table.
"It wasn't on purpose," she pointlessly reminded her Mother as they started to eat.
Estimating that her daughter wasn't going to share more then that, she nodded and began on another topic. "You saw your Father?"
"Yes," she nodded. Sydney remembered the slightly awkward embrace the two had exchanged, which was followed by nearly an hour of conversation. As those things went there was an expected amount of awkward, silent moments, but for the most part they had managed to keep a good flow to the conversation. Apparently she had discovered a way to break open a relationship with Jack Bristow - two years of massive numbers of e-mail mixed in with a handful of scattered phone conversations.
"What did he say?"
"He seemed happy to see me," she shrugged.
"Well of course he is, you're his daughter."
Across the table she smiled at her Mother, deciding against reminding Irina that she and her Father were deeply estranged for several years. "This is good," she instead chose to comment as she ate her dinner. That meal, pork chops, had been one of her perennial favorites as a child. After two years away, it was nice to have something close to a home cooked meal.
"Good, it was always your favorite," she remembered with a pleased smile. "Perhaps we could have your Father over for dinner on Sunday night, unless you have other plans? I could make whatever you'd like."
Sydney smiled although still baffled by the true nature of her parent's relationship. Deep in her mind she supposed that parents were like that, regardless of how dysfunctional they could be. "That'd be nice," she agreed.
"Wonderful," she smiled and took a sip of her wine. "I'm sure your Father will be pleased," she commented as her daughter nodded her agreement. "You're going to see your friend's tomorrow?"
"Yes," she smiled. "I'm meeting Will and Francie for an early lunch at her restaurant."
"Your Father took me to her restaurant once. Of course your Father had to introduce me as a friend, but Francie did say we share a great resemblance, which I took as the highest compliment," she smiled as her daughter grinned back. There was no question that while she was now over fifty years old, Irina was still a beautiful woman, with a face full of lightly etched laugh lines and a handful of nearly chic streaks of gray in her otherwise chestnut hair. "I met both of your friends there. I believe your reporter friend knew who I was."
"He does," she agreed, her voice slightly strained. As much as she loved her Mother, she still ached to think of the trauma her organization had forced one of her best friends through.
"They both seemed like very lovely people, very friendly, warm individuals," she said before her voice lowered. "I'm not sure what amount of weight my opinion bears on your shoulders, but for what it's worth I'm grateful you've had such wonderful, honest people in your life when I was not."
Swallowing back her food, she nodded, "I met them in college. We were inseparable. For a long time . . . Francie thought I was insane for taking all of the languages that UCLA offered, and then she thought all of my bank trips were beyond absurd . . . I'm sure she'll find some aspect of my life that's still crazy," she smiled at the thought.
"And Mr. Tippin?"
"Will . . " She grew thoughtful before continuing. "Will loves me, very much, and for awhile he was . . . Confused. He'd do anything in the world for Francie and I. He's a good man, very loyal."
"Loyalty is not a trait to be easily overlooked," Irina commented as Sydney nodded, trying not to dwell on how her Mother acquired her drop of wisdom. "Were you ever in love with Mr. Tippin?"
"What?" Her head shot up. "No, nothing like that, ever. He was actually the one who introduced me to Danny . . ." She remembered, growing somber at the memory of the man she had loved.
"You're not nervous about seeing your friends again, are you?"
Her shoulders shrugged slightly and an embarrassed smile graced her features, "they've been my best friends for over ten years . . But so much has changed. When I left they weren't even *dating* - now they're getting married . . "
"Change can be good."
"It can be," she agreed as she looked down at her now empty plate. "I know they make each other happy, I guess . . . I'm just hoping that there's still a place for me."
Irina nodded, silently understanding that her daughter wasn't just referring to her place in Will and Francie's lives.
Sydney found the following morning reassuringly and surprisingly reminiscent of the mornings she remembered as a child. Her Mother woke her up halfway through Good Morning America and her favorite breakfast - French toast - was waiting. Sitting across the kitchen table from her Mother in her frog print pajamas she began to wonder how much of Laura Bristow was a figment of Irina's imagination and how much came from who she truly longed to be. After breakfast she showered, surprised to walk out and find her Mother had already set out an outfit, including the necessary undergarments and warm white socks, for her to wear that day. At thirty years old, no one had done that for her since she was six, and it left a slightly surprised and endearing impression upon her heart. There was more then abundant proof to indicate that Irina hadn't lied when she turned herself in a few short years ago - she had no ulterior motive then to want to be in her daughter's life again.
Irina was curled up contently on the warm colored sofa, reading a thick Russian novel when Sydney walked in. Setting her book down, she smiled warmly at her daughter; pleased that she had chosen to wear the outfit she had set out. It had been such a long time since she had been allowed to put an impact - at least a positive impact - on her daughter's life. Deep down Irina was too happy with recent events to question whether she deserved all that she was being given.
"You shouldn't be late meeting your friends," she insisted as she gestured to the car keys waiting on the coffee table.
"I shouldn't be," she assured her Mother, picking up the keys. "Thanks for letting me borrow the car," she smiled. This was a conversation she had imagined in her head several times when she was a teenager - obviously at the time the circumstances inside of her imagination were far different, but the foundation remained the same. Sydney was no longer a teenager, and now Irina Derevko, not Laura Bristow, was really her Mother. The important part was that she once again had a Mother, one who truly appeared to love and want her in her life. In her life she supposed the unexpected was all that could be expected.
"Drive safely!" She called as her daughter smiled and nodded, waving goodbye before slipping out the door.
The drive from her Mother's home to Francie's restaurant had taken ten minutes longer then her previous days journey to the CIA offices. Originally they had agreed to meet at the seamstress, but Will had e-mailed her saying the plans had changed; the three of them were going to have a brunch together at the restaurant before the two women headed off to 'laugh over dress patterns and fabrics', in Will's words.
Will had obviously never been tailored for a dress; she shook her head with a chuckle.
Although it was only the middle of the morning it was still a struggle to find a parking space within distance of Francie's restaurant. The sound of laughter could be heard even as she approached the restaurant door, and she was unable to stop a smile when she saw how popular Francie's restaurant had become, even with the usually lagging breakfast bunch. Walking in she searched the crowd for her friends, for once glad that she was tall.
"Hey, Syd!" A familiar voice called as she swirled around to see Francie and Will. Both wore face-splitting grins and were ecstatically waving her over.
"I've missed you so much!" Francie immediately pulled her into a tight hug as she embraced her friend back.
"You look so great!" Sydney complimented as her friend shrugged and smiled. "Hey you," she greeted Will as she hugged him.
"How was your flight?" Will asked as Sydney slid into the other side of the booth across from her
friends.
"It was a flight," she smiled and shrugged. "Let me see the ring!" She declared as Francie held out her left ring finger. "Oh Fran, it's beautiful," she said as her friend beamed. "Very nice taste in jewelry," she teased Will.
"Thank you," he smiled.
"I'm so happy your back in time Syd," Francie exclaimed as they ordered their breakfast.
"I wouldn't have missed this for anything," she promised.
"You know your more then welcomed to stay with us - " she started.
"Nonsense. You two are planning a wedding, you don't need me in your hair," she reassured them with a smile.
"Where are you staying?" Will questioned.
"With my Dad," she explained as they nodded. "This place is doing so well," she realized as she looked around the restaurant.
"A lot better then I ever thought," Francie agreed.
"Hey, how's work going for you?" Sydney asked Will. Even after two years Will clearly read the look in her eyes; she wasn't so interested in the actual work as she was in whom he could be working with.
"It's fine," he shrugged, making a mental note to pull her aside later. Although Jack Bristow had kept them updated as much as possible, he wondered just how much Jack had been telling Sydney.
"He's working with some seriously cute guys Syd," Francie spoke up.
"Goofy cute or hot cute?" Sydney asked as Will snorted.
"I'm right here!" He spoke up as the girls laughed.
"Hot cute. There's this one . . . Seriously Syd, I think I showed him one picture of you and I thought the guy was going to swoon. Except the guys married to a total bitch."
"Of course," Syd agreed and took a sip of her coffee.
"We see him a lot, so I'm sure you'll meet him soon. He's a great guy too, just as long as his wife isn't around."
"Alice isn't that bad," Will meekly defended as Sydney studied her coffee. Just as she had expected, they were referring to none other then Michael Vaughn. How many other Alice's are there out there, she wondered. "They've been through a lot, give her some credit."
"They haven't had an easy go of it," Francie agreed. "But that still doesn't excuse her for being a rude bitch," she looked at her fiancé before meeting her best friend's brown eyes. "Michael is going to be Will's best man, which is great. He's such a nice guy Syd; I really think you'll like him. So I tried to be polite and called and left her a message asking if she wanted to be a bridesmaid. Now I would have asked her out to lunch and asked her then but I don't think she ever leaves the house! So she called me back on my voicemail and tells me how rude *I* am for asking her such an important question on a answering machine!"
"Do you know her well?"
"I don't think anyone knows her well," Francie sighed with regret. "I've tried Syd, really hard to be nice to her, but it's just a completely uphill battle. Eventually I just gave up, it's too much of a hassle, especially when she turns around and yells at *me* for being a horrible person."
"At least you tried," she pointed out with a shrug. As horrible as it was, she was relieved that in her absence she hadn't lost her best friend to Alice Vaughn. If that had happened she wasn't sure she how she would have reacted; she was simply relieved that she'd never have to find out.
"You'll meet them at the rehearsal dinner," Francie assured her.
"I have to wait an entire week?" She teased. The wedding was the following Saturday - eight days and counting. If her arrival had been any later, they might not have been able to make adjustments to her bridesmaid gown.
"Trust me your not missing anything by not meeting Alice Vaughn," Francie sighed. "You know how when we were in college all the ugly girls or bitches got the really great guys?" She asked as Sydney laughed and nodded. "It reminds of me that."
All Sydney could do was shake her head in amusement, as Will grew slightly embarrassed. "I'm sure she must have her good qualities, if this man is as wonderful as you say he is and he fell in love with her," she pointed out. Yes, her mind bitterly reminded her, Alice had always seemed like a nice person. The life Alice and Michael had shared since Sydney's departure had not been an easy one, and she knew that. Bitter circumstances could ebb away even the nicest persons well-intentioned soul. If anyone knew something about that, she knew it would be herself.
Deciding that this conversation needed to be turned in a slightly less sensitive subject, Sydney smiled at her friends and spoke. "You know neither one of you ever really told me what happened between you too," she reminded them.
"Syd, really . . " Will started.
"It's really boring," Francie agreed.
"I want to know," she insisted with a smile.
"It's the most anti-climatic story," Will shot back. All Sydney did was shake her head and smile, patiently waiting for her friends to fess up.
"It was less then a month after you had left, and we decided to celebrate my anniversary with the restaurant by cooking this ridiculously huge dinner for ourselves at apartment," Francie started.
"Francie was trying to get the whip cream for dessert but she had the can thing and it wouldn't come out," Will started to chuckle at the memory as Francie grew embarrassed. "Sorry," he apologized to his fiancée before looking back at his friend. "So, she turns the nozzle so she can look at it, and it *finally* works, but it sprays all over her chin!"
The three of them were laughing as Sydney spoke, forcing herself to keep her laughing low. "That still doesn't explain how you two ended up together!"
"Okay," Will's laughter stopped, as he grew slightly more serious. "Francie tries to get all of the whip cream off of her chin, but she ends up with this massive glob on the bottom of her chin," he explained as Sydney struggled to not laugh at the image. "So I reach over to wipe it off her chin and somehow my lips end up on hers."
"See?" Francie shrugged. "It's really boring."
"I think it's really sweet," Sydney corrected. In truth it was a sweet story, the type you could sit and tell your grandchildren around a fire without worrying about corrupting their tiny minds. It was a type of sweet story that she'd never have the privilege to tell grandchildren - after all, you can't have grandchildren without children and it's not looking promising on that front, she remembered sadly. "So, what color is my dress?"
"Light blue - it's so pretty Syd, I really think your going to love it," Francie smiled.
"It's nice," Will agreed. "Remember all of those weddings we went to right after college?" He asked her as she nodded. After their college graduations their had been an influx of weddings to attend. "Most of them had some really horrific color patterns and dresses, but I promise you this one is *nothing* like that."
"I'm sure I'll love it," she smiled.
"What was the Peace Corp like?" Francie questioned.
"It was so . . . *Exciting*," she recalled the recent memories fondly. "I'm not sure if it was where I was or because it was my first opportunity to teach, and I was able to really help those kids by teaching them. I worked with some really wonderful people, a lot of great volunteers from the Peace Corp and other countries . . . " She brushed hair behind her ear before looking at her friends. "I always wanted to be a teacher, for as long as I could remember, but after I lost my Mom," she carefully worded, well aware that Francie was still unaware of the true nature of her former employment and her families complicated history. "Part of me just went through the motions because *she had*," she shrugged. "Being in Armenia, working with those kids . . . I finally realized I actually had a *passion* for teaching, that I wasn't just doing it because she had but because it was what I was really meant to do," her smile widened as her friend's smiles grew in response. "It was a really awesome feeling."
"I wish I did something that awesome," Francie commented and took a sip of her drink.
"Hey, you own one of the most successful restaurants in Los Angeles!" Will pointed out, leaning over to kiss his fiancée's cheek. "If nothing else works, just remember that you're marrying the most wonderful man in California in a week," he teased as they all laughed.
Sydney found the meal she shared with her friends to be slightly reassuring. There was one obvious fact that she was unable to ignore however - this wasn't the life she had left behind. It was still Los Angeles, they were still the people she loved and who loved her, but everything was different. After all, her internal wit questioned, how many times did Francie and Will lean over to kiss each other during dinner *before* you left for Armenia? Not only that, there were quite references to people, events and places that meant nothing to her. She had no idea what 'turnips' or 'Frohike's here' made them laugh - other then Will's former obsession over the cult hit, 'The X-Files'. Not that her friend's weren't going out of their way to share the anecdotes with her, to assimilate her back into their lives - they were - but even that would take time.
The Sydney Bristow who had left Los Angeles was not the one who had returned, and she was slowly realizing her foolishness at believing it would be the same Los Angeles she had abandoned.
One thing that hadn't changed - one thing she doubted ever would change - was Francie's fabulous fashion sense. The simple chiffon bridesmaids gown had fit her like a glove, and Sydney fell in love when she saw her best friend's wedding gown resting on a hanger. From the glow on her face whenever she was around Will to the blush on her cheeks when Sydney confidentially asked for every exact detail, it was clear as glass that they were happy together and would remain as such for the rest of their lives.
Stepping into the house early Friday evening, Sydney was assaulted with the ambrosia smell of fresh baked cookies, a scent that hadn't greeted her homecoming in over two decades. Mother and daughter ordered pizza and relaxed in the living room, staying up to watch 'Gone With the Wind' together until the earliest hours of Saturday. During the movie - a favorite for both - she found herself sharing funny stories regarding teaching and her past with her Mother and receiving the same in return. They spoke about annoying students and Irina warned her about even more annoying parents. Her Mother was eager to hear all about Francie's wedding plans and how she and Sydney's other best friend had managed to get together. Of all the surprises in the world, Sydney discovered that no one was as big of romantic as Irina Derevko.
For Sydney Saturday was another slow day. Francie and Will were driving north for the day to meet with her family to finalize plans for the reception dinner and her Father had claimed that he had work to do. Instead she plodded around the house, watching cable television and baking with her Mother. In the evening they went down to the beach as the day's visitors slowly trickled out, leaving Mother and Daughter to eat a picnic dinner and enjoy the sunset.
On the other side of the city, the weekend wasn't going so peacefully for Michael Vaughn. After waking up to Alice berating him for his apparent inability to correctly wash colors, he escaped the house for an hour under the guise of walking Donovan. Unfortunately for him, in his absence his wife had discovered that their dog (*his* dog, his silently corrected her during her scolding) had apparently learned how to take books off of a bookshelf and had torn a book to shreds. To make matters worse the book was her copy of Louisa May Alcott's "A Modern Mephistopheles" - a cherished gift her late Father had given her upon her acceptance to Dartmouth's English program.
In his neck of the woods, Sunday was a slight improvement. Although his wife insisted she wouldn't go - he found himself unable to get her to leave the house for anything - he escaped in the late morning to go to the usual Vaughn Sunday dinner at his Mother's house. As always Brigitte was a warm, welcoming sanctuary from the storm, and his sister and brother-in-law were tactful enough not to mention his wife. Instead he cuddled his one-year-old nephew close and even agreed to a tea party with his nearly four-year-old niece. Eventually he knew he had to leave, and hesitantly he left shortly before darkness fell, accepting the leftovers his Mother always sent for Alice as well as his Mother's kind words. Brigitte was far from Alice's biggest fan, but she would never have wished ill fortune upon the girl - she had already experienced more then enough during her brief marriage.
At the Bristow residence - although Sydney wasn't entirely sure if she should refer to her Mother's as the Bristow's or the Derevko's - Sunday morning and early afternoon were busy. Once they had finished languidly reading through the paper, it was time to prepare for her Father's arrival. There was an unusual sprint in Irina's step when she spoke of Jack's forthcoming arrival, something that Sydney could never recall seeing as an adult. As soon as the dinner was warming up, and the house was clean from top to bottom, her Mother smiled brightly and retreated up the stairs to prepare for dinner. All Sydney did was get comfortable in the living room with a book and wonder just what to expect for the upcoming evening.
When her Father arrived promptly at six and dressed in his usual suit, she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. Sydney had been the one to answer the door and smiled as her Father offered her a bottle of champagne for the evening. "To celebrate your homecoming," Jack explained as his daughter took his coat for him.
She smiled up at her Father as she heard her Mother walking into the room. Although her dress was simple and her make up a barely noticeable dusting on her features, Sydney's keen eye picked up on her Mother's need to look better for her Father. "Hello Jack," she greeted with a smile. Turning around briefly, Sydney hung up her Father's trench coat and was slightly surprised to turn around to see her parents in an embrace of welcome. Blinking only once, they were separated and she was left to wonder if it ever happened at all.
Dinner was served shortly after Jack's arrival in a dimly lit dining room. The entire atmosphere - from her parents sitting at opposite ends of the table to the silk flower arrangement that served as the centerpiece of the dining room table - was deja vu to the few childhood memories she had of her parents. The conversation between her parents not only flowed smoothly, but also was devoid of any sharp edges or an undercurrent of accusation and betrayal. They talked about her life, her time in the Peace Corps and her future plans - including Jack's offer that the CIA would gladly hire her in whatever capacity she wished. Although she smiled at her Father's offer, she had already set her mind that she wasn't going to enter the 'family business', not even in a role as meek as a linguist with the agency.
Irina's culinary skills far surpassed anything Sydney remembered, but she realized that her taste was far more advanced then it had been as a six year old. Even Jack complimented her on the exquisite meal. Everything on the table was made from scratch and, from Sydney's observations, all made from the top of Irina's head, free of any recipe books. Somehow in a mind full of world espionage and a life of deceit, there was a real shadow of Laura Bristow screaming to be released from her body.
For dessert her Mother had stumbled upon one of Sydney's downfalls in life with a delicious New York Cheesecake. She was far too busy enjoying the delicious dessert to mind that it was the one part of the evening that her Mother had not mastered. Apparently the Russian's don't teach the finer points of American desserts, her mind quipped as she inhaled her second piece.
"Darling, you must be exhausted, why don't you go take a shower?" Her Mother suggested after she declared she couldn't eat another bite, no matter how tempting the remaining pieces of cheesecake looked.
Carefully eyeing her Father, Sydney shook her head. While she logically knew they must have spent *some* time alone together during her two year departure, it still felt like an uneasy idea in the pit of her stomach. Surely they were two mature, intelligent adults, and they had spent a decade married; hell, they were technically still man and wife. However she never would have left the Mother and Father she had known alone without a few security guards and bars between them, and now her Mother was telling her it was fine to leave them alone in Irina's dining room, sipping wine and making chit-chat?
"It's fine sweetheart," Jack carefully soothed her, still not used to playing the roll of loving Father. "I won't leave until you come back down to say goodnight," he assured her.
Glancing between her parents again, she finally nodded her agreement. "Do you need help picking up -" she asked when she realized the table was still covered in their dishes.
"I'll take care of it, go enjoy a nice shower," Irina smiled at her. After a brief hesitation, she smiled at both of her parents and excused herself. Perhaps her parents would never be normal, her mind considered as she climbed the stairs towards the bathroom, but if she could leave them alone for an hour without them causing bodily harm to one another she'd be thrilled.
There was a certain sense of peace that came over her as she showered, knowing that both of her parents were nearby and seemingly communicating without violence. With the peace came a comfort she hadn't felt in so many years. Regardless of her own ability, and even her age - thirty-one had come and passed just weeks before - it was nice to know that her parents were there and they would not let anything happen to her. Occasionally it was just nice to be taken care of.
Even though her parents had seen her in her pajamas, they'd even changed her diapers in a world so far away; she decided not to change into her bedclothes yet. Instead she slipped on sweatpants and a tank top. Sitting on her Mother's guest bed, she blotted her hair until it was dry, taking her time brushing it as she heard various noises downstairs. Much to her relief everything sounded commonplace, nothing to alarm her nearly paranoid sense of environment.
An eerie, almost too peaceful calm had set over the lower level of the house as her bare feet reached the carpeted living room. Sydney enjoyed the sensations that her Mother's plush, soft carpet made on her toes as she walked towards the kitchen. Listening closely, she hoped that the silence wasn't caused by her Father leaning over to murder her Mother; then again, Jack had been known to kill for far less. Turning the corner, half expecting to see the kitchen covered in dirty pots, pans, dishes and one of her parents blood, she stopped cold.
Irina was leaned up against the stove, oblivious to the dishes that needed to be rinsed and set in the dishwasher. Instead she was quite obviously preoccupied. Her long arms were wrapped snugly around her ex-husband (husband? Sydney still wasn't sure) and Jack's arms were slung comfortably low on Irina's hips. Not only were they embracing, but also their lips were dueling passionately. So passionately that they didn't notice her as she stood there, in shock for a period of seconds, time that seemed to pass as molasses. Realizing that she didn't want to get caught staring, and that she was beginning to have trouble breathing; she quickly dashed back up the stairs.
Sitting on the bed, she looked at the alarm clock and regained her composure. Her parents . . . . Irina Derevko, enemy of the United States government (and also her Mother), was wrapped in a passionate embrace with loyal CIA employee Jack Bristow. There wasn't even a time in her memory when she recalled walking in on her parents. Her parents . . . It was quite simply the best and worst thing she could think of seeing. Blinking rapidly she finally processed that she was blinking away her tears. Seeing her parents apparently happy was marvelous. What child, no matter what age, didn't want their parents happy? The entire concept of her parents being happy with one another should have made it better for her.
The thought that really nagged at her mind, however, was one of pain. Not even her own parents were the same; they hadn't even been honest about their relationship! Just more evidence that Sydney didn't know where she belonged anymore. Apparently her absence, instead of hindering her parent's relationship, had let it progress. What else had her presence put a hindrance on? They were *kissing*, acting as though they were still husband and wife. Truth be known she wasn't entirely sure they *weren't*.
Looking at the red digits on her alarm clock, the large 7:48 that glared back at her, she wanted someone to talk to. She needed some confirmation that she was back for more then just Francie's wedding; that she was wanted there. No doubt her parents wanted her, but had they needed her in their life? As selfish as it was, without SD-6 and the Alliance to take down, the CIA hadn't needed her. If Sydney had one downfall in life, it was that she desperately wanted - perhaps, ironically, even need - to feel as though something in life *needed* her.
Leaning over Sydney picked up the phone, not caring who would be screening the call. Even after being away for two years she remembered every digit of every phone number that mattered, and her fingers dialed them with ease. Sniffling away her tears and while she berated herself for being so ridiculous, she didn't dare hang up the phone. There was a chance she'd never be that courageous again.
"Hello?" A voice answered after six agonizingly long rings.
"Hey," she responded, already searching her drawers for a pair of socks.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes . . . No . . . . I don't . . . I'm not sure," she confessed as she sat down on the bed and started to put on her socks. "Can you meet me?"
"Yeah, sure, where?"
"The warehouse? I can be there in fifteen minutes," she estimated, already traveling the route in her mind.
"We can't meet there Syd," his voice was apologetic.
"Why not?" She asked, panic rising in her heart. The ridiculous fear that it was where he now met with another asset had controlled her heart.
"They tore it down, about a year and a half ago."
"They tore it down?" She sat back down on the bed, the adrenaline she had just moments ago suddenly gone. They had torn down *their* warehouse? Didn't the city of Los Angeles realize how important that place was, she questioned. To an unknowledgeable outsider it was a run down building, an eyesore in a neighborhood that most preferred to ignore. However it had been her safe haven, the one place where she could look him in the eye, where she could speak without fear. Now it was gone.
"What about the pier? I can meet you there, unless you'd rather not -"
"Would you mind?" She asked softly. It was dark out, and she knew he had work the following morning. The last thing she imagined he'd want to do was go stand on a chilly pier at nearly eight at night with her, but he was her only option. Deep down she knew even if she had other options, she would have wanted it to be him.
"No, Syd, of course not," he gently reassured her. "I can be there in about an hour, is that okay?"
"That's good," she smiled. "Thank you," she whispered before hanging up the phone.
"I'm sorry," she whispered against the wind as he shook her head, silently indicating that she had nothing to be sorry for.
"Here," he replied, handed her a Styrofoam coffee cup. Seconds later he found himself taking pleasure in the brief look of pleasant surprise that flashed across her face when she realized he had remembered how she took her coffee.
"My Dad was over for dinner tonight - it was my Mom's idea, to have this big family dinner and stuff . . . which was fine. It was even sort of nice," she remembered with a small smile. "Then a little while ago I walked into the kitchen to find my parents *kissing* . . . I don't know," she shrugged. "It's not that I'm against them having a relationship, but seeing them . . . It just reminded me how much had changed. I've been back for a few days and nothing is the same. Everything is so different . . . Not only things with my parents but Will and Francie, the CIA, nothing is how I remember. I don't know if I belong anymore, and I'm starting to wonder if maybe I shouldn't even be looking to see if I belong, maybe -"
"Sydney," he rested against the side rail, setting his free hand on the railing close to her. During their previous meetings at the pier he hadn't been able to look at her, but on that evening he found himself leaning against the railing, his back to the water and his eyes on her face. The lights from the Ferris wheel and fun in the distance lent a beautiful glow to her face, and he was relieved that she wasn't crying. "This is still your life," his tone was stern but gentle. "Regardless of how you feel right now, you still belong here, you still have a place . . . Maybe you need to look a bit harder to find it, but your niche is still here," he assured her before glancing briefly at the water. "Whether you believe this or not, your life has missed you," he said before looking down at his coffee. "I've missed you," he whispered the reminder before looking up to meet her eyes.
Her brown eyes briefly met his, and he found himself nearly unable to read them. There was no doubting that she was pleased that he had missed her - and while he might not have been waiting for her in Los Angeles, he had missed her far more then he should have. When her hand leaned over to cover his, he found himself enjoying the feel of her cool hand on his too much for a married man. While his eyes glanced away, he flipped his hand over so his thumb could run over the top of her hand.
They stayed silent for a wonderful, suspended moment in time, oblivious to the crowds passing them by. There had been no legitimate reason for her to call him; he was no longer her handler, she wasn't even sure if he handled anyone anymore. He hadn't hesitated once, and he didn't seem in a rush to leave. She had needed him, and he had come, just as he always had; even after two years apart it was the most consistent relationship she had ever known.
"So," he looked up with a crooked smile on his face. "Your parents?" He questioned as she laughed.
"My parents," she agreed as she took a sip of her coffee.
"That's . . . That's weird," he decided, his grin growing wider as she responded with laughter.
"Very weird," she nodded. In the dim light of night her eyes met his and smiled, gently squeezing his hand before looking back out at the water before them. "Did you know my Mom wears a wedding ring?" She looked at him as he met her eyes.
"I remember your Father had some of the guys in the OGC figure out whether they were still married soon after she turned herself in. Is it possible they never officially divorced?"
Looking back out at the water she shrugged her shoulders, allowing her hand to still rest in his. "With my parents anything is possible."
"Don't you believe they'd tell you if they'd . . . Rekindled what they once had?"
"I don't know," she shrugged again. "I've been thinking about it . . . Not about now, but about everything that happened . . . Growing up, my Father could just have well told me the truth, led me to hate my Mother. Instead he let me believe this lie, and while I am still upset that he kept it from me for a long time, don't you think it would have served him to tell me the truth? He could have led me to hate her, and while it's not any better that he let me adore someone who never really existed, don't you think it's unusual that he didn't try to poison me against her? Why wouldn't he do that, why wouldn't he make me hate her as much as he hated her?"
"Because he loved you," he suggested quietly before meeting her eyes. "Maybe because, despite everything, he loved her too. If you believed the lie, he could believe the lie, and he could ignore the reality that his wife was a fraud. That the happiest years of his life were someone else's illusion," he spoke confidently before once again growing quiet. "Maybe he still loves her now."
"How can he?" She asked, searching his eyes for answers she might never find. "How can he look at her and not hate her for all she did to him? She *lied* to him and then *abandoned* him!" She whispered harshly, the wind whipping her hair in every direction.
"You still love her," he carefully pointed out.
"That's different, she's my Mother!"
Vaughn shrugged and took a sip of his coffee, briefly contemplating his next words. "My Mother used to tell us that the love between a husband and wife, if it's real, is very different then the love for child, with the exception of one basic principle - it never ends. You *always* love your children, no matter what they do and how much they hurt you, you always find it in your heart to love them . . . " He trailed off, momentarily lost in thought before finishing his dialogue. "In a marriage, a *real* marriage," he emphasized; trying not to recall how his Mother insisted that what he and Alice shared was not a real marriage. "It's the same thing. She hurt him, she deceived him, and in a way he hurt and deceived her too. Your Father is not objective when it comes to her, he never has been, and maybe he looks at her . . . Maybe he sees all the good that she wants to have, the parts of Laura that she wants to really be . . . Maybe he sees them and loves her for it. Hell, maybe he loves her more now because she's not his docile literature professor wife but someone who can challenge him and knows just as much about his line of work as he does."
"I don't remember my Mother ever being docile," she smiled as he shot her a wry look. A few seconds later she was serious as she nodded, "I understand what your saying."
"Syd . . . Your parents . . . They're *never* going to be what other people might consider normal. So what?" He shrugged. "The life that we lead . . . A CIA Agents life is, by definition, abnormal. Your parents have found what works for them. They probably hope that makes it *easier* for you, especially since your trying to assimilate yourself back into this world. This is *still* where you belong Syd, it might take sometime, but you cannot doubt that."
"How can you still do that?" She asked, unable to quench the smile from her face.
"Do what?" His eyebrows rose.
"Make me feel better?"
"I don't know, but it certainly wasn't in the handbook," he muttered as she laughed.
"Francie and Will think I'm staying with my Father," she spoke up. "If you talk to Francie, that's what she thinks. I'm not sure if Will believes it or not, but she should," she explained. "Mom actually met Francie when I was gone," she remembered as he looked at her, patiently waiting for her to continue. "Dad took her to Francie's restaurant one night and she was there . . . I guess Dad implied that she was his girlfriend or something . . . " She shrugged. "Which I guess she is," she chuckled when she realized how correct she her simple analysis was. "My parents are dating," she looked at him.
Michael's response was similar to hers, a chuckle and nod at the absurd reality of Jack and Irina's relationship. They shared a few minutes of laughing before he grew serious. "Syd, if you want to know exactly what's going on, you should talk to your parents about it. You're their daughter; you have a right to know a certain amount about their relationship. I'm not saying you have the right to know every little detail, but you do deserve the truth."
Sydney let out a sigh and nodded. "My family is never going to be normal."
"That doesn't have to be a bad thing," he gently reminded her. "Trust me Syd . . . Normal is . . . Highly overrated," he sighed when he thought back to his own on-going attempt at normalcy.
"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "I shouldn't be bothering you -"
"Syd, you're not bothering me," he vowed. "It's not easy getting readjusted to a life you left. You've changed, the people in your life has changed . . . All I can tell you is that it *is* going to take some time, but don't stop trying. The Sydney Bristow I remember never gave up," he reminded her as her smile grew.
"I'm not very good at defeat," she laughed.
"Will and Francie's wedding should keep you busy, and I'm sure Francie is going to need all the help you can offer if she's going to keep running the restaurant and cater her own wedding."
"She's insane, isn't she?" Sydney laughed. "Only Francie would try to cater her own wedding."
"Catering the wedding herself was important to you, almost as important as making sure you were her maid of honor."
A sober expression crossed her beautiful features as she nodded, accepting the full magnitude of his words. "She waited until I was able to be her maid of honor," she swallowed as he nodded.
"They weren't going to get married unless you were there Syd. That's how much you *still* mean to both of them. You, Will and Francie are always going to be best friends, you're always going to be family. Obviously the dynamics have changed with Will and Francie's relationship, but it doesn't take away from what you share with both of them. They love you and you love them. People need you here Syd, not just Will and Francie but . . . But everyone," he faltered.
Looking at him, he was delighted to see her smiling, "thank you," she whispered.
His first response was to tell her it was his job, but that was no longer the case. Sydney Bristow hadn't been his job in two years, but her call had nonetheless sprung him into action. Deciding it was about time he tore his eyes away from her, at least briefly, he looked down at his watch. To his surprise it was quickly nearing ten at night.
"What time is it?" She asked, sipping her coffee and still clinging to his hand.
"9:57," he explained. Before she could respond, the echo of her beeper surrounded them. With hesitation she let go of his hand to read the number.
"It's my parents," she sighed and realized that while they were never going to be Parents of the Year, Jack and Irina were most likely worried about where she was. "Remind me why I shouldn't throw this into the Pacific," she whispered.
"I think one beeper into the ocean per lifetime is the limit," he teased as her dimples once again appeared. "You should get going, before your Father sends out a search team."
"He would do that too, wouldn't he?" She chuckled as he nodded. "Thank you -"
"Stop thanking me Sydney," he gently admonished. She nodded, trying to understand. She was no longer his asset; he wouldn't have come if he hadn't wanted to. "If you need me . . . You still have my number," he reminded her as her smile grew and she nodded.
Sydney smiled and nodded at him one more time, cradling her coffee between her hands as she turned and walked in the direction of her car.