Chapter Two
As the plane begins its descent into Zurich, Sydney keeps her gaze directed outside the window, taking in the mountains, and the striking scenery of Switzerland. Most people traveling across Europe won't begin their journey in the middle of the continent, but that is precisely why Sydney has chosen Switzerland. At the time of booking a flight, she hadn't decided how many places she wanted to go, or any details regarding her vacation at all. Switzerland is a splendid country and she can go to so many places—once she decides to leave. After the plane taxis, she takes her suitcase and purse and follows the rest of the passengers off the airplane. She moves with a smile planted on her face, feeling not completely herself, which is completely understandable, given everything she has just been through. When the customs officer tells her to enjoy her stay in Switzerland, she nods and thanks him. Outside the airport, she hails a taxi and directs the driver to her hotel.
Finally making it to her room, Sydney collapses onto the bed after throwing her bags down and locking the door. Jet lag sets in and she closes her eyes for a nap.
Sydney ran frantically up the stairs, exiting on the roof level, looking for any signs of her mother. She saw Irina crouched on the ledge of the building, ready to make her getaway. "Freeze! I've shot you before, I will do it again."
Irina turned slowly, looking at the gun Sydney had pointed at her.
"Keep your hands in the air."
Irina lifted her hands slowly, prepared to fall backwards at any second.
Sydney spoke into her comm, "I'm on the roof, I've got Derevko." She glanced back at Irina. "Get off the ledge."
"I'll tell you what you need to know." Irina stayed on the ledge, watching Sydney carefully.
"Get off the ledge now!"
This time, Irina didn't comply. She spoke rapidly, "Sloane believes he's been chosen to realize the word of Rambaldi, but you, too, have been chosen."
Sydney wavered, but held the gun still, "If you think I'm bluffing…"
Irina smiled, "It's you in the prophecy Sydney, not me. Only you can stop him. Good luck, sweetheart."
"Get down now!" Sydney aimed the gun shakily, keeping it pointed at Irina.
"I love you." Irina leaned backwards, falling off the side of the building.
Sydney jerks awake, sitting straight up in bed. Why is she dreaming about her mother again? She finds it hard to believe, what happened on the roof had been two years ago, when the scene is so fresh in her mind. She frowns, hearing Irina's words in her mind, "Only you can stop him." Sydney scoffs, feeling more certain that Rambaldi is a fake. Isn't Sloane supposed to take over the world or something to that effect? He's had two years to do so, and according to her senses, the world is perfectly intact. Nothing has changed, save for all the personal things she cannot remember. She pushes Rambaldi, Sloane, and her mother to the far corner of her mind. This was her damn vacation and nothing was going to ruin it. She rummages through her bag and quickly scans the rooms for bugs. She might have 'quit' the CIA, but one can never be too careful. The room is clean, and not for the first time, she wonders if she has made the right decision. She remembers her conversation with her father.
Sydney climbed hesitantly out of the car and walked slowly to her father's front door. Normally, she would have gone to the Joint Task Force building to talk to him, but she didn't want to run into Kendall or anyone else from work. She rang the doorbell, shifting her weight from one foot to another. The door opened unhurriedly and Sydney found herself staring at her father. As soon as he saw her, he pulled her into a warm embrace that she hadn't experienced in years. After they pulled apart, Jack motioned for her to come inside. She followed him into the house. "Sydney… I almost didn't believe it when Kendall said that you had called. It seemed…like an impossibility. After two years of desperate searching, we had come up with nothing. Yet, when we finally started to accept the fact that you might be gone for good, you called. What happened, Sydney?" He handed her some coffee and they sat down on the sofa.
"Dad… I can't… I can't remember the past two years of my life. I didn't even know that two years had passed. When I called, I'd thought that maybe I'd been knocked out for a week, a month tops. But to have two years of my life be a complete blank? It's just unimaginable. When Vaughn came to the safe house, I was so happy to see him. Little did I know that my entire world would come crashing down." She sniffed, tears filling her eyes as she spoke.
"Oh, Sydney… I'm so sorry. I know you cared for Vaughn and now he's married. As for the past two years, you might have to undergo regression therapy when you get back to the CIA. Perhaps we can find out where you were, what you've done, who you've been with the past two years. It could give us some leads on Irina or Sloane or Sark if you were ever in contact with them. When do you think you can be in?" His face held a passive expression, but his eyes mirrored his concern.
"This is why I'm here. I have to talk to you about something… Dad, I'm going to Europe after this and I don't know when I will be back. I'm quitting the CIA." For a few short seconds, Jack Bristow looked completely shocked, but he composed himself and prepared to rebuke her decision. "Before you say anything, just hear me out. I can't take it anymore. I just woke up not remembering the past two years of my life! Vaughn is married, and if I go in for a debrief, they are going to grind me and grind me until I break down. I need to get away."
"Why are you going to leave for good?"
"This life has done nothing for me. I've lost so many people I care about, and we might never catch Sloane and my mother. I don't want to waste any more of my time on this. Please, Dad, try to understand." She looked him in the eyes, wondering what he would say.
"You do realize that Kendall will probably have you fired once he hears about this?"
She nodded. "You can tell him I quit."
He thought about it and slowly nodded his consent, "I don't think it is the wisest thing to do, but it is your decision. I know you can be very stubborn and I am assuming you won't be talked out of this. That said, I believe you are old enough and wise enough to know what's best for yourself. I support your decision."
A smile broke out on her face and Sydney hugged Jack once again. "Thank you, Dad. You have no idea how much this means to me. I have to go, but I promise to call you from Europe. Will you tell everyone else that I'm thinking of them and I send my regards?"
Jack walked her to the door and smiled as well, "Of course." He watched Sydney walk towards her car and remembered something else, "Sydney."
She turned. "Yeah, Dad?"
"I love you." His face was completely serious as he said this, but his eyes conveyed his happiness.
"I love you, too." She continued to smile as she got into her car and drove away.
A few days into her vacation, Sydney is beginning to feel a bit lonely. She doesn't have many people to talk to. Being on vacation by oneself can get dull, very quick. Sydney finds herself wishing for Vaughn, almost involuntarily. She pushes the thought into the corner of her mind that her spy life occupies. Vaughn is married. She realizes that it is not so much about Vaughn as it is about having someone, anyone here with her. She doesn't have anyone. She sighs at her self-pity and decides to do something fun tonight. She changes into a black tank top and a black miniskirt. She glances over herself in the mirror. She runs her hand through her now-short hair; it has been cut to just below her jaw line. The outfit reveals her tanned stomach, and is perfect for clubbing. Clubbing it is.
Sydney walks slowly into the club, pretending to be uninterested in her surroundings. She disregards the few guys that walk her way, looking her up and down, and heads toward the bar. Sitting down, she waves to the bartender and orders a glass of Château Petruse. She drains the first glass and asks for more. As the alcohol enters her bloodstream, she feels a warmth rush through her body. She tells the bartender to leave the bottle, and manages to down the whole thing. She stands up, a bit wobbly at first. She ignores the part of her brain that tells her she's drunk, and decides to dance. Winking at one of the guys that keeps looking at her, she walks over to him and starts to move her body to the beat of the music, encouraging him to move with her. He isn't all that bad looking, she decides. Blonde hair, green eyes—who does that remind her of?—and a nice body. The time passes quickly as she continues to dance with different guys, feeling like she is on an adrenaline rush. It feels good. Along the way, she drinks more shots of alcohol, and her movements start to get a little irregular. Someone grabs her ass and she unsuccessfully tries to push him away. She starts to feel lightheaded from all the alcohol and mutters, "Stop it," to the person—it's the guy with green eyes—trying to feel her up.
Suddenly, he stumbles backward, yelling, "Sonofabitch!" and holds his nose.
Sydney turns and notices someone with disheveled blond hair and icy blue eyes by her side. She squints, "Sark?"
The guy before throws a punch, but Sark dodges it easily and hits him in the stomach. Green eyes wipes the blood from his nose and backs away slowly. Sark puts an arm around Sydney's shoulder and says to her, "Let's go. You're drunk."
She resists at first, knowing that going with an escaped prisoner while she's slightly intoxicated isn't very smart. "Let me go. I want to dance. I'm not drunk." She tries to push him away, but he tightens his grip on her.
"Stop it. We're leaving." His voice is perfectly calm, as if they are a couple and he is used to rescuing her. He throws some money onto the bar for her drinks and pulls her into him.
Even in her drunken stupor, Sydney can't help but think how well she fits into Sark. Two years hasn't changed him much; he still looks as striking as he used to. Sydney lets herself be steered out of the club by him. In the taxi, he gives the name of her hotel. She is too woozy to wonder how he knows where she is staying; all she can think about is how nice it feels leaning against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
When they reach the hotel, Sark pays the driver and helps her out of the taxi. He asks her for the key to her room when they are in the elevator and she fumbles to get it from her purse. She manages to make it into the room on her own, but collapses onto the bed at once. Sark stands there, feeling awkward. He gets some water from the bathroom and sits down beside her on the bed. He forces her to drink a bit of water. She mutters something along the lines of a "thanks" before she curls up and sleeps. Sark sighs, wondering if he should stay or leave. He doesn't know why he decided to be a knight in shining armor for Ms. Bristow, but her behavior intrigued him. He hasn't seen Sydney in two years, and two years ago, she would've never gotten so drunk, and she would've been able to defend herself. What is so different now? Rubbing his forehead, he lies down on the sofa and decides to close his eyes for just a moment.