Syrina
Chapter Five
Dissention
Sydney had hardly been back in Los Angeles when Dixon called her into his office to reprimand her for losing the page. He was incredibly disappointed she hadn't succeeded in acquiring the third part of The Telling.
"Sydney, this page could have helped us find out what happened to you over the last couple of years."
"You think I don't know that?"
Sydney slumped in her chair, not feeling like being on the receiving end of a lecture, though she did have a few things she'd like to say.
"Well, it didn't seem to make you work any harder to get it."
Sydney wondered briefly what had made Dixon turn into…well, Kendall. He was so controlling now. Not at all the kind-hearted patriot she'd once known.
"I tried, okay? You think I don't want to know what happened to me? I blacked out for two years! I was fighting Francie and then I woke up in Hong Kong. I have no idea what happened over two years of my life, Dixon! I tried."
Sydney looked down at her lap, thinking that she did have an idea of what had happened to her. She just wanted it to be wrong. Really, really wrong. She'd had this flash of a man on his knees, begging for his life. She'd fired the gun without any sign of remorse. She wanted it to be wrong. Maybe it had been a nightmare, not a recollection. The stress of returning was catching up with her. It had felt so real. She realized then that Dixon was staring at her.
"Hmm?"
"Do you know where Sark and Khasinau would have taken it?"
Sydney shrugged. "I didn't overhear them making plans for their escape or anything."
"I'll have Marshall see if he can locate Bonnie and Clyde."
Sydney nodded and stood; ready to leave.
"Be ready to leave when I need you to."
Sydney nodded once more and left the office.
Syrina stood in the plain white laboratory. Moscow was cold and bare, snowing everywhere. She did love the snow. She hadn't been back to Russia in a while. Syrina felt at home in her birth country. Allison had met them at the airport and picked up on the uncomfortable tension between the two. She seemed delighted at the dissention. It was probably because she hated Syrina so much. She'd always wanted to see Syrina fall out of favor with Sark. Syrina had never understood Allison's blatant dislike of her. It hadn't ever really bothered Syrina that much. She hadn't really cared if Allison despised her. But to watch Allison gloat over her battle with Sark just royally ticked her off. Syrina bent over one of the lab tables where Sark and Allison already stood. Syrina watched as Allison tried to break the Rambaldi code. She'd scribble on some paper, then mark it out. Sark was examining the previous parts of The Telling, not even aware of the difficulty Allison was having at decrypting the words. Syrina stepped smugly forward, a sudden urge to best Allison spreading over her.
"Let me, Allison."
"I've got everything under control, Syrina." Allison envious reply came. It was still hard to adjust to Allison looking like Francine Calfo. They'd never been able to reverse the process of the genetic sequencing, so Francine's face was what she was stuck with.
"You look like you do. What does the first word say?"
Allison stared at the foreign words, trying to make it make sense.
"Seriously, Allison. I could have this thing decrypted in twenty minutes or less if you'll just get out of the way."
Allison stood stubbornly in front of the papyrus page and leaned over the magnifying glass. Sark seemed to become suddenly aware of the quarrel occurring next to him. "Allison, Darling, Syrina has always had an affluence for codes and languages. Let her have a go at it."
Syrina caught Sark's eye and for a moment, everything seemed back to normal. Allison noticed the look that passed between the two and as always, she felt left out as they had a silent conversation.
"Fine." She said it angrily and Syrina shot her a triumphant smirk. Syrina pulled the pad of paper closer to her and uncapped a pen. Her eyes scanned the page before writing down the decoding in her own bubbly writing.
The One who has brought on part of the Apocalyptic End will return to her life before she fulfilled her destiny. The device will leave her with lost time and only The Two will be able to trigger her memories. The Two will unite with The One and it will be up to The Two to determine the result of the world. She can bring The End or she can survive the world. Her genetic sequence will determine her choice. Still a child, she shows amazing talent and accelerated knowledge in worldly things. Growing up alone, her heart will be sure and steady. Innocent and guilty, her mind sharp, her way particular and special, she will do as instructed. Forced into her life without much free will, she will quickly heighten her position, forming her own business and trusting only one. The Protector. The Protector will be there always, guiding her, teaching her, protecting her. And it is when she is nearly adult that she will have to choose her side, a definite line drawn and crossed.
Underneath the encrypted words was a sketch much like the one from Page 47. Syrina watched as the image came into view after she spread the solution over the page. Staring back at her was an image of herself. Her hair hung around her shoulders, her eyes wide and haunted. Syrina dropped her pen, startled at the sketch. She hadn't expected to see her face appear. Sark glanced over to see what had surprised Syrina and found himself looking at an exact replica of Syrina's features. Syrina began to back away from the table. She'd always been taught to revere Milo Rambaldi's work from her father, Irina, Sark even. He was a prophet who was rarely wrong and a genius to say the least. He'd named her as The Two. The prophecy was her responsibility now. She didn't want it. She knocked against a chair, pushing it back. "Syri, this only…"
Syrina was gone in a flash, not caring what Sark had to say. She had to get out of the lab. Sark sighed and picked up her translation. The implication of Syrina's new found calling struck Sark as he read down the paper. He needed to find her. Immediately. They needed to discuss their next course of action. Allison tore off her piece of paper and wadded it up. She tossed it in the trashcan. Pretty soon, Syrina would have Sark in the palm of her hand all over again. She watched Sark go after her and she felt her fists balling up at her sides as she angrily watched Sark become an unknown player in Syrina's power trip.
Syrina pulled her winter jacket close to her body. Her breath puffed out in floaty white clouds and she felt at peace as each clear white snowflake floated onto her head. She heard the snow crunching behind her and knew Andrew had come to talk. She closed her eyes and lifted her face up to the sky, enjoying the biting cold that Russia usually brought. She stepped over a fallen log, then decided to sit on it. Sark was buttoning his coat, slipping his gloves on. He took a seat next to her and placed his hand on her arm.
"Syrina, I read the translation."
"I can't do all that. It doesn't even sound like I really have a choice on which side I'll choose to be on."
"It's all right. It's going to be just fine. You have to believe."
"Sydney won't work with me. I don't trust her and she doesn't trust me. It's how we were brought up, Andrew."
Syrina pushed her gloved hands through her long brown hair, moving it off her neck and collar. She groaned, bending over and clutching her knees. An overwhelming need to cry and scream and wail overcame her. She just wanted to run away from Rambaldi and spying altogether. She was in way too deep to get out now, no matter how much she wanted to. Sark pulled Syrina to him, no longer feeling awkward or upset with her.
"Oh, Baby Girl, I know this is hard for you." He crooned. "Rambaldi's prophecy has left a huge responsibility to you. Still, you must accept it."
"Why?"
"It's your destiny, just like it is my destiny to protect you."
"Why can't I just ignore it? Nothing will happen if Sydney Bristow never remembers her life as an assassin."
"Sydney Bristow is incredibly determined. She's going to discover what happened, even if you don't trigger it. But if you do, we can make Sydney trust you."
Syrina sighed and shoved her hands in her pockets.
"What's the plan?"
She seemed resigned to her fate that had just dropped into her lap. Sark kissed the top of her head.
"I'll let you settle in to this prophecy and I'll come up with a stellar plan because that is what I do."
He grinned in an effort to cheer her up. Instead, Syrina buried her head in his chest, breathing in his expensive cologne, a familiar scent she remembered from her childhood. She wanted to block herself out from the world and Sark was the only one who could do that for her. She sobbed quickly as the weight of everything crashed down on her. The hot tears contrasted with her freezing face. Sark held her and let her be a regular seventeen-year-old girl except for the fact that she was hysterical over the decision of whether or not to bring an end to the world.