2. "I'm like a mirror; I'm nothing till you look at me."
Sydney attempts to insist on waiting in the car like a stubborn child when they first arrive. He finds this terribly amusing. She does everything but fold her arms across her chest and scowl.
"You must come in," he offers reasonably, and it is almost easy to forget her sins when she stares right back at him and replies, "I won't." Not 'I can't,' of course, because that would be giving too much away. 'I won't.' It's cute, in a way.
He does not point out that she has become to him what Irina is to her, and look at how nicely he has been able to get along with her so far. "You must," he says instead, "Because I'm taking your precious scholar inside, whether you're with us or not. If you stay here, you'll never know what he has to say."
With that, he closes the car door and is in the process of locking it when the passenger door swings open and she steps out without another word.
Irina is not surprised that he has brought her daughter along. "It's good to see you, Sydney."
Sydney glares at Sark. "I should have known."
"Yes, you probably should have," he observes neutrally.
"I'm glad you're here," Irina continues. "I need your help."
"What makes you think--" Her tone is already accusatory and she's only been in her mother's company for two minutes.
"Just listen," Irina interrupts. "I need you to retrieve your father. You're the only one who can get through to him now."
"What do you want with him?"
"I don't want anything from him."
"I don't believe that."
"I'm concerned for his welfare. Sloane's off the deep end. If your father says one wrong word, it will be the end of their partnership."
"Why do you suddenly care what happens to him? Does he figure into your prophecy somehow, too?"
"Sydney," she replies wearily, as though this is a discussion they have had too many times. "I've always cared."
Sydney's mouth opens like she's going to say something, but closes like she's thought better of it.
"Dr. Miratomi will be able to tell us where they are now, when he awakens."
"And then?"
"Then I'm hoping you'll go there and bring him back."
"If I don't?"
"If you don't," Irina sighs, "I'll have to come up with an alternate plan, won't I?"
Silence.
"I'll have to think about it," Sydney finally replies.
Irina nods, as if this were the best she could have hoped for. "You'll have until Dr. Miratomi awakens." She glances at Sark, who drags Miratomi's body down a nearby hallway, heaving him into an empty bedroom.
"Now you," he says to Sydney, who has followed him rather than to remain alone in her mother's company. He leads her further down the hall, to another guest room.
She leans her head against the doorway and addresses his retreating form. "Is she on the level?"
He pauses but does not turn around. "It's possible."
"Why would she go to this trouble? What does Sloane have that she wants?"
"Your father."
"I don't believe that's all there is to it."
He shrugs.
"She doesn't care about him. She never has. If she did--"
"Please, don't rehash your family history. I'm as familiar with the story as you are." The words sound more irritable than he'd intended.
"It just doesn't make sense."
"Your mother's motivations are hers to understand, and mine to merely accept, usually sight unseen. What you think about them is your business," he concludes, "but if it means anything, I'm fairly certain she's genuinely concerned about your father."
"It doesn't make sense," she repeats, more to herself than to him.
"Get some sleep," he advises, finally turning to face her. "We'll be waiting for your answer."
It is several hours later when she wanders down the hallway again, looking no more rested than she had before; she apparently still does not trust them enough to fall asleep in their presence. His mouth curves into an involuntary smile as he glances up from the newspaper. Her answer is evident before she even begins to speak.
"I'm glad you've decided to help," he says.
She doesn't look pleased by his perceptiveness, merely annoyed. "As long as she has one thing straight: I'm not 'helping' her, and I'm certainly not working for her."
"We understand."
"Make sure she does. My only interest here is finding my father and bringing him home."
"That is our sole interest as well."
'Our.' 'We.' She is amused by his insistence that her mother might actually consider him an equal rather than a subordinate. It's cute, in a way.
"Yeah," she says.
"Why don't you tell her yourself?" He nods toward the front door. "She's just outside."
Sydney hesitates, as he knew she would; that might have even been the reason he proposed it, to puncture her bravado.
"No," he says. "You'd rather I communicate your concerns."
She takes a deep breath, raises her shoulders. "I'll do it." This is intended to mean: I'm not afraid of her. Really.
"Good."
She advances toward the front door. A pause. She turns around.
"I've decided you can tell her."
He really does try not to laugh.
She resists the urge to grin back and tell him to shut up. This isn't that kind of situation. She must keep her cool.
"Tell me what?" Irina asks from behind her, looking over the two of them bemusedly, as if she is pleased they seem to be getting along.
"Oh." Sydney turns to face her. "I was about to tell you that I've decided to do what you've asked of me. But I wanted to make sure it was clear that I'm not working for you."
"No. I didn't imagine you would be." Irina places a hand on her daughter's shoulder and pretends not to notice when she flinches. "Thank you, Sydney."
"I'm not doing it for you," she says through gritted teeth.
"Neither am I."
And then she's gone again, leaving Sydney with one more half-finished conversation to file away in her memory under her mother's name.
"I'm impressed," Sark notes. "I didn't think you had it in you."
She decides against admitting that she also had her doubts, revealing one more weakness to the man who remains her adversary, even if she finds herself reluctantly working in league with him now, sort of. Instead, Sydney follows in her mother's footsteps for perhaps the first time: she smiles enigmatically and disappears.
Sydney attempts to insist on waiting in the car like a stubborn child when they first arrive. He finds this terribly amusing. She does everything but fold her arms across her chest and scowl.
"You must come in," he offers reasonably, and it is almost easy to forget her sins when she stares right back at him and replies, "I won't." Not 'I can't,' of course, because that would be giving too much away. 'I won't.' It's cute, in a way.
He does not point out that she has become to him what Irina is to her, and look at how nicely he has been able to get along with her so far. "You must," he says instead, "Because I'm taking your precious scholar inside, whether you're with us or not. If you stay here, you'll never know what he has to say."
With that, he closes the car door and is in the process of locking it when the passenger door swings open and she steps out without another word.
Irina is not surprised that he has brought her daughter along. "It's good to see you, Sydney."
Sydney glares at Sark. "I should have known."
"Yes, you probably should have," he observes neutrally.
"I'm glad you're here," Irina continues. "I need your help."
"What makes you think--" Her tone is already accusatory and she's only been in her mother's company for two minutes.
"Just listen," Irina interrupts. "I need you to retrieve your father. You're the only one who can get through to him now."
"What do you want with him?"
"I don't want anything from him."
"I don't believe that."
"I'm concerned for his welfare. Sloane's off the deep end. If your father says one wrong word, it will be the end of their partnership."
"Why do you suddenly care what happens to him? Does he figure into your prophecy somehow, too?"
"Sydney," she replies wearily, as though this is a discussion they have had too many times. "I've always cared."
Sydney's mouth opens like she's going to say something, but closes like she's thought better of it.
"Dr. Miratomi will be able to tell us where they are now, when he awakens."
"And then?"
"Then I'm hoping you'll go there and bring him back."
"If I don't?"
"If you don't," Irina sighs, "I'll have to come up with an alternate plan, won't I?"
Silence.
"I'll have to think about it," Sydney finally replies.
Irina nods, as if this were the best she could have hoped for. "You'll have until Dr. Miratomi awakens." She glances at Sark, who drags Miratomi's body down a nearby hallway, heaving him into an empty bedroom.
"Now you," he says to Sydney, who has followed him rather than to remain alone in her mother's company. He leads her further down the hall, to another guest room.
She leans her head against the doorway and addresses his retreating form. "Is she on the level?"
He pauses but does not turn around. "It's possible."
"Why would she go to this trouble? What does Sloane have that she wants?"
"Your father."
"I don't believe that's all there is to it."
He shrugs.
"She doesn't care about him. She never has. If she did--"
"Please, don't rehash your family history. I'm as familiar with the story as you are." The words sound more irritable than he'd intended.
"It just doesn't make sense."
"Your mother's motivations are hers to understand, and mine to merely accept, usually sight unseen. What you think about them is your business," he concludes, "but if it means anything, I'm fairly certain she's genuinely concerned about your father."
"It doesn't make sense," she repeats, more to herself than to him.
"Get some sleep," he advises, finally turning to face her. "We'll be waiting for your answer."
It is several hours later when she wanders down the hallway again, looking no more rested than she had before; she apparently still does not trust them enough to fall asleep in their presence. His mouth curves into an involuntary smile as he glances up from the newspaper. Her answer is evident before she even begins to speak.
"I'm glad you've decided to help," he says.
She doesn't look pleased by his perceptiveness, merely annoyed. "As long as she has one thing straight: I'm not 'helping' her, and I'm certainly not working for her."
"We understand."
"Make sure she does. My only interest here is finding my father and bringing him home."
"That is our sole interest as well."
'Our.' 'We.' She is amused by his insistence that her mother might actually consider him an equal rather than a subordinate. It's cute, in a way.
"Yeah," she says.
"Why don't you tell her yourself?" He nods toward the front door. "She's just outside."
Sydney hesitates, as he knew she would; that might have even been the reason he proposed it, to puncture her bravado.
"No," he says. "You'd rather I communicate your concerns."
She takes a deep breath, raises her shoulders. "I'll do it." This is intended to mean: I'm not afraid of her. Really.
"Good."
She advances toward the front door. A pause. She turns around.
"I've decided you can tell her."
He really does try not to laugh.
She resists the urge to grin back and tell him to shut up. This isn't that kind of situation. She must keep her cool.
"Tell me what?" Irina asks from behind her, looking over the two of them bemusedly, as if she is pleased they seem to be getting along.
"Oh." Sydney turns to face her. "I was about to tell you that I've decided to do what you've asked of me. But I wanted to make sure it was clear that I'm not working for you."
"No. I didn't imagine you would be." Irina places a hand on her daughter's shoulder and pretends not to notice when she flinches. "Thank you, Sydney."
"I'm not doing it for you," she says through gritted teeth.
"Neither am I."
And then she's gone again, leaving Sydney with one more half-finished conversation to file away in her memory under her mother's name.
"I'm impressed," Sark notes. "I didn't think you had it in you."
She decides against admitting that she also had her doubts, revealing one more weakness to the man who remains her adversary, even if she finds herself reluctantly working in league with him now, sort of. Instead, Sydney follows in her mother's footsteps for perhaps the first time: she smiles enigmatically and disappears.