* * * *
Sydney stifled her startled cry of recognition almost before it began and stared wide-eyed as Jack drew Irina a chair from a nearby table to add to their own. Both women gave Jack expectant, slightly hesitant looks and he wearily nodded his permission as Irina hugged her daughter.
"Mom, what are you doing here?"
Jack felt a twinge that he reluctantly identified as resentment at the warm expression on Sydney's face as her mother sat down beside her. Her capacity for forgiveness -or optimism- never ceased to amaze him.
"We've spent so long searching for you. I had to see you for myself." She paused to thank the waitress who brought them a third cup of tea. "And I have a proposal."
Jack stiffened immediately and scowled at the semi-apologetic and knowing smile Irina gave him.
"I know that the Agency hasn't had much success in discovering what happened to you," she continued, turning back to Sydney. "I wanted to make another collaborative offer. It seemed to work well before."
"Circumstances were different before," Jack said.
"Not so different," she replied coolly. "In fact, I believe that the... resources at our disposal are almost exactly the same. Only the goal now is slightly altered."
It was true, Jack grudgingly admitted to himself. Substituting Sydney for Sark in this new proposed triangle made relatively little change in both the skills and the limitations of the alliance. He found it difficult, however, to equate his current desire to find out what had happened to Sydney with his earlier need to simply have her home safely. The latter was worth far more risk than the former, he thought. But his certainty wavered as he looked at her. Sydney needed to know what had happened to her. She needed to be actively doing something about it, more than just dredging through foggy memories a sliver at a time. For the first time in months he could see a spark of hope in her eyes.
Irina placed a small card on the table. "Contact me when you've made a decision." She brushed her hand across Sydney's hair as she rose to leave and Sydney grasped at her fingers.
"Before you go," she asked, a curious look on her face. "Who is Stephen?"
For a moment, Jack and Irina both resisted the compulsion to glance at one another, staring instead at their daughter and her hardening expression.
"I can read lips, you know," she chided them. "And I've heard Dad on the phone. I guess the question isn't really who is Stephen, is it? It's why are neither of you calling him Sark anymore?"
There was no need to exchange glances then. Irina sat back down, her gaze as compassionate as Jack's was impassive.
"Stephen is my son," she said at last. "Our son."
"That arrogant British bastard is not my brother," Sydney denied flatly.
Irina smiled softly. "Arrogant I'll give you, but he's not British."
"And he's only a bastard in the colloquial sense," Jack added unexpectedly, earning him a startled but approving look from Irina. Sydney merely gaped at him before snapping.
"Of course," she hissed at them sarcastically, still ever-mindful of the patrons and wait staff around them. "Because technically you two are still married. Which means that technically Sark is a Bristow. Which means that technically this family is the most screwed up bunch of dysfunctional lunatics on the planet. I swear I wish my amnesia covered all of this too. How long have you known?" she demanded, glaring at Jack.
"A little over two years," he admitted. "How long have you suspected?"
"You know there's always been speculation at both SD-6 and the Agency that he was Irina Derevko's son, so the suspicion has always been there. Then I thought it was weird how defensive of him you've been ever since I got back, trying to make sure that I didn't hate him or blame him for anything that's happened." If she caught Irina's quick glance at Jack, she gave no indication. "I've read all the files that the CIA compiled on Sark while he was in custody, so I know his name and when he was born and I can do the math. When I was reading that book it was clear that Tom's problems all began the day he was born - when his mother passed him off as a foundling to protect her own reputation. That point wasn't for anyone but you, was it, Dad? I've heard you on the phone when you've thought I was asleep - asking about Stephen and talking about me with exactly the same amount of concern in your voice. When were you going to tell me?"
"When I thought you were ready," he said.
"And when was that going to be? Before or after one of us shot the other?"
"Preferably before it happens again."
"You shot him in Hong Kong," Irina said at her blank look. "He's fine now, though."
"That's so reassuring. How do you know I didn't do it in self-defense?"
"Stephen would never harm you."
"Why not? Because he adores his big sister so much?"
Irina's expression chilled as she held Sydney's gaze firmly. "Because he knows that hurting you is the one thing I could never forgive him for."
"And if he doesn't care about your forgiveness?"
"He cares."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know him. He may be a little uncertain of precisely how he fits into this family, but he knows that he's part of it and that he needs it."
"He's uncertain?" Sydney repeated incredulously. "Mom, the word you're looking for isn't 'uncertain'. It's 'unstable'. And that's hardly a wonder after you've been screwing with his head for twenty years and you," she scowled at her father. "You've probably been confusing the hell out him trying to bond with him these past couple of years. And if I got all of that conversation correctly, neither of you has any idea where he is or what he's up to right now. How could you let this happen? How could you do this to us?"
Jack wasn't entirely sure which of them their daughter was speaking to... or who she was including in her "us". Did she mean how could Irina have abandoned Sydney and Jack only to add this new unforeseen complication to their lives now? Did she mean how could Jack and Irina have knowingly driven their children into their current roles? It disturbed him to realize that he couldn't tell where her sympathies lay anymore. Perhaps the problem was that Sydney didn't know either.
She glared at them both, anger and tears making her eyes bright. When she saw that neither of them had any answers for her, she stood and gave them each a long, searching look before heading toward the door. Jack rose quickly to follow her.
"No, Dad," she stopped him. He could see that she was still angry, but it was not a reckless fury. She had it under control though it was tempered with pain and disappointment. "I just... I need to walk for a while. I'll get a cab home."
"No." He shook his head gently as he handed her his keys. "Keep the car. I'll take the cab."
A brief, grateful expression flickered across her face at his gesture. She tucked the keys into her pocket and he watched her walk out the door. When he returned to the table, Irina was already gone. He picked up the card that Sydney had left behind and waited, almost unconscious of the passage of time as their uneaten meal was packed into carry-out boxes by the attentive, unobtrusive waitress.
* * * *
Sydney stifled her startled cry of recognition almost before it began and stared wide-eyed as Jack drew Irina a chair from a nearby table to add to their own. Both women gave Jack expectant, slightly hesitant looks and he wearily nodded his permission as Irina hugged her daughter.
"Mom, what are you doing here?"
Jack felt a twinge that he reluctantly identified as resentment at the warm expression on Sydney's face as her mother sat down beside her. Her capacity for forgiveness -or optimism- never ceased to amaze him.
"We've spent so long searching for you. I had to see you for myself." She paused to thank the waitress who brought them a third cup of tea. "And I have a proposal."
Jack stiffened immediately and scowled at the semi-apologetic and knowing smile Irina gave him.
"I know that the Agency hasn't had much success in discovering what happened to you," she continued, turning back to Sydney. "I wanted to make another collaborative offer. It seemed to work well before."
"Circumstances were different before," Jack said.
"Not so different," she replied coolly. "In fact, I believe that the... resources at our disposal are almost exactly the same. Only the goal now is slightly altered."
It was true, Jack grudgingly admitted to himself. Substituting Sydney for Sark in this new proposed triangle made relatively little change in both the skills and the limitations of the alliance. He found it difficult, however, to equate his current desire to find out what had happened to Sydney with his earlier need to simply have her home safely. The latter was worth far more risk than the former, he thought. But his certainty wavered as he looked at her. Sydney needed to know what had happened to her. She needed to be actively doing something about it, more than just dredging through foggy memories a sliver at a time. For the first time in months he could see a spark of hope in her eyes.
Irina placed a small card on the table. "Contact me when you've made a decision." She brushed her hand across Sydney's hair as she rose to leave and Sydney grasped at her fingers.
"Before you go," she asked, a curious look on her face. "Who is Stephen?"
For a moment, Jack and Irina both resisted the compulsion to glance at one another, staring instead at their daughter and her hardening expression.
"I can read lips, you know," she chided them. "And I've heard Dad on the phone. I guess the question isn't really who is Stephen, is it? It's why are neither of you calling him Sark anymore?"
There was no need to exchange glances then. Irina sat back down, her gaze as compassionate as Jack's was impassive.
"Stephen is my son," she said at last. "Our son."
"That arrogant British bastard is not my brother," Sydney denied flatly.
Irina smiled softly. "Arrogant I'll give you, but he's not British."
"And he's only a bastard in the colloquial sense," Jack added unexpectedly, earning him a startled but approving look from Irina. Sydney merely gaped at him before snapping.
"Of course," she hissed at them sarcastically, still ever-mindful of the patrons and wait staff around them. "Because technically you two are still married. Which means that technically Sark is a Bristow. Which means that technically this family is the most screwed up bunch of dysfunctional lunatics on the planet. I swear I wish my amnesia covered all of this too. How long have you known?" she demanded, glaring at Jack.
"A little over two years," he admitted. "How long have you suspected?"
"You know there's always been speculation at both SD-6 and the Agency that he was Irina Derevko's son, so the suspicion has always been there. Then I thought it was weird how defensive of him you've been ever since I got back, trying to make sure that I didn't hate him or blame him for anything that's happened." If she caught Irina's quick glance at Jack, she gave no indication. "I've read all the files that the CIA compiled on Sark while he was in custody, so I know his name and when he was born and I can do the math. When I was reading that book it was clear that Tom's problems all began the day he was born - when his mother passed him off as a foundling to protect her own reputation. That point wasn't for anyone but you, was it, Dad? I've heard you on the phone when you've thought I was asleep - asking about Stephen and talking about me with exactly the same amount of concern in your voice. When were you going to tell me?"
"When I thought you were ready," he said.
"And when was that going to be? Before or after one of us shot the other?"
"Preferably before it happens again."
"You shot him in Hong Kong," Irina said at her blank look. "He's fine now, though."
"That's so reassuring. How do you know I didn't do it in self-defense?"
"Stephen would never harm you."
"Why not? Because he adores his big sister so much?"
Irina's expression chilled as she held Sydney's gaze firmly. "Because he knows that hurting you is the one thing I could never forgive him for."
"And if he doesn't care about your forgiveness?"
"He cares."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I know him. He may be a little uncertain of precisely how he fits into this family, but he knows that he's part of it and that he needs it."
"He's uncertain?" Sydney repeated incredulously. "Mom, the word you're looking for isn't 'uncertain'. It's 'unstable'. And that's hardly a wonder after you've been screwing with his head for twenty years and you," she scowled at her father. "You've probably been confusing the hell out him trying to bond with him these past couple of years. And if I got all of that conversation correctly, neither of you has any idea where he is or what he's up to right now. How could you let this happen? How could you do this to us?"
Jack wasn't entirely sure which of them their daughter was speaking to... or who she was including in her "us". Did she mean how could Irina have abandoned Sydney and Jack only to add this new unforeseen complication to their lives now? Did she mean how could Jack and Irina have knowingly driven their children into their current roles? It disturbed him to realize that he couldn't tell where her sympathies lay anymore. Perhaps the problem was that Sydney didn't know either.
She glared at them both, anger and tears making her eyes bright. When she saw that neither of them had any answers for her, she stood and gave them each a long, searching look before heading toward the door. Jack rose quickly to follow her.
"No, Dad," she stopped him. He could see that she was still angry, but it was not a reckless fury. She had it under control though it was tempered with pain and disappointment. "I just... I need to walk for a while. I'll get a cab home."
"No." He shook his head gently as he handed her his keys. "Keep the car. I'll take the cab."
A brief, grateful expression flickered across her face at his gesture. She tucked the keys into her pocket and he watched her walk out the door. When he returned to the table, Irina was already gone. He picked up the card that Sydney had left behind and waited, almost unconscious of the passage of time as their uneaten meal was packed into carry-out boxes by the attentive, unobtrusive waitress.
* * * *