"It's simple, really. We were brainwashed Sydney. The Covenant stole our lives, our identities, our memories...they turned us into two completely different people."


*****

Will stepped back from Allison Doren, her body laying in a pool of blood. He was in a state of shock.

This woman had killed Francie.

Beautiful, innocent, sweet Francie.

She hadn't deserved this.

Allison did.

The woman had killed the woman he loved, and had lived undercover with other woman he would always love...

Sydney.

Where was she?

Suddenly, his cell phone rang. He pulled the phone out of pants, and opened it slowly.

"Tippin," he answered, walking in the direction that Sydney had gone.

"Will," Michael Vaughn said urgently, "Where's Sydney?"

"Vaughn, hey man," he said, still walking, "I don't know. She ran after Sark. I'm looking for her now."

"Alright...what about Allison? Was she there?" Vaughn asked. Will sighed.

"She was," Will answered flatly.

"Was?" Vaughn inquired.

"She's dead. I killed her," Will answered.

Silence.

"Okay, Will you need to call an ambulance. We need to make sure she's dead this time," Vaughn answered. Will turned around the corner to where an exit door was, nodding slowly.

"Trust me man, she's dead," Will said. He halted when he recognized something on the floor. Vaughn noted the silence.

"What? What is it?" he asked. Will leaned down to the floor, picking up a black object.

"Will?" Vaughn asked again, more urgency in his tone.

"It's Syd's wig," he said, pausing, "She's gone."


*****


Sydney's eyes widened at his admission.

"You too?" she whispered, her eyes spilling over with tears. He wiped them away again, not bothering to wipe away the tears forming in his own eyes. He sighed, changing position in order to take her into his arms, his left arm draped over her shoulders. He allowed her to sob, her shoulder shaking against his embrace.

It broke his heart.

The sight of the agent who could compartmentalize with the best of them.

Sobbing like a child.

In his arms.

That meant something to him; it meant a great deal to him that she had chosen to break down in his presence. He had seen her crying before of course, in surveillance photos that Irina's men had taken, but he had never seen it in person.

Now he understood why it had always hurt Irina, seeing Sydney so sad.

Her hurt, her pain, was so real, it transferred to his own heart. He felt it. Not just because he had been through everything she had been through, but because she was so innocent, so pure, so beautiful. A woman as wonderful as Sydney should never have been subjected to this life.

He looked at her again, noting that her shoulders had stopped shaking so violently.

"You alright love?" he asked. She nodded, though he wasn't convinced. She took a deep breath, shifting her eyes to his face, noticing the tears that had fallen down his sculpted cheeks.

"I'm fine," she said, wiping her face, her eyes never leaving his.

"You have questions," he stated flatly. She smirked.

"Too many," she said, laughing ironically, looking toward the floor. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes.

"Ask me anything," he said. She considered this for a moment, wondering where to begin.

"How did the Covenant do this to you? How did they get you out CIA custody?" she asked. He removed his hand from her chin, putting it over his eyes for a moment.

"The Covenant intercepted a transmission about my being transferred to a remote prison in Nevada. They ambushed the officers who were assigned to transfer me and took me into their custody," he said.

"How long ago was this?" she asked. He thought for a moment, then removed his hand from his face, gazing in her eyes again.

"I would say approximately four or five months after you disappeared. In prison, you lose track of time," he said softly. She considered stopping her questions. Sark was displaying an uncharacteristic amount of emotion. Maybe this was too hard for the man. His eyes, and a small nod of his head, urged her otherwise. She sighed again.

"Where did they take you?" she asked.

"The same place they took you. A training facility in Russia. To this day, I can't remember which part of the country..."he trailed off.

"Sark...we can stop. I don't want you recalling something that is painful for you," she said. He squeezed her shoulder, smiling at her.

"Sydney, it's alright. I want to tell you. I knew what I was getting myself into when..." he trailed off.

"When what?" she demanded, "please. I need to know." He paused, then nodded.

It was time.

He cleared his throat, and stood up, reluctantly letting her go. He turned his back to her, staring out the window of his hotel room. He walked over to the window frame, placed both hands on it, and leaned against it.

"When I arrived at the facility, there were, I'd say, fifty or sixty other agents in training. You were one of them," he said, looking at back at her for a moment, before turning his eyes back to the skyline.

"I don't know how I did it, but somehow I got to see you. You weren't yourself. You were already Julia. I don't know what they did to you, or how they did it, but they convinced you that you were someone else," he said, and suddenly he turned around, a smirk on his face.

"I remember thinking how disappointed I was that you weren't yourself. And not because I was concerned, but because I missed your contempt toward me. I missed the blatant hatred in your eyes. I missed it all really," he said, trailing off. She smiled despite the gravity of the situation, but her smile faded when his features became serious.

"I was an idiot Sydney. They tortured me for weeks. The details would disgust you...they disgust me, and I've seen many things in my lifetime," he paused, running a hand over his hair, "Anyway, I refused to work for them willingly, as I'm sure you did, so they forced me to work for them. They led me to a room and strapped me down to a table..." he trailed off, looking in her eyes.

"All I can remember are needles. Everywhere. They surrounded the table. The doctors gave me anesthesia and in seconds, I was out. That's the last thing I remember before..."

"Before what?" she asked, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Before they turned me into Andrew James," he said. She repeated the name silently, allowing it to sink into her mind. Her eyes widened.

"In the hallway. I...Julia...she called you Andrew," she said.

"Yes, that was my name...they convinced me that was who I really was," he said.

"Please, if you can, go on..." she trailed off, and he nodded.

"I can't remember the next year of my life. I imagine that I performed missions for the Covenant, though I have no recollection of anything. I would even say that you and I probably performed several missions together," he said. She stood up, moving to stand in front of him, her eyes searing his own.

"How did you escape?" she asked.

"It's ironic really. I ran into your mother on one of my missions. At least, that's what she tells me. I only remember seeing her after she snapped me out of my trance," he said, looking down.

"How did she do...how did she..." she trailed off. He smirked.

"How did she do it?" he asked. She nodded.

"She reminded me of who I was. I'm really not sure how. I'll have to ask her some day..." he trailed off, glancing at her again, "Anyway, she snapped me out of it, told me she knew that I had been in the Covenant's custody, and that she had recently discovered that you were there as well." Sydney gasped, but nodded for him to continue.

"She told me I had to go back...continue doing their work, act as if nothing had happened. She filled me in on the details of 'Andrew James' life. I went back with a new mission, a mission assigned to me by your mother," he said.

"And what was that?"

"I had to break through to you, turn you back into Sydney Bristow. Then, I had to take you to your mother. I did just that. She didn't want you to remember what had happened to you, why, I'm not sure. So, she called in a favor," he said, looking into her eyes.

"What kind of favor?" she asked quietly. He placed his hand on her cheek, mainly to give her strength to bear his next admission.

"She called a specialist she knew, a former KGB neurologist..." he trailed off, and her eyes at last displayed understanding, as tears formed in her brown orbs.

"She had your memories erased Sydney. She had two years completely wiped from your memory."