Part 3: Dies Irae
There was a knock at the door, and Irina got up to answer it. "Can Sydney come to play?" asked the young girl on the other side. Inessa Shurikov was nine and lived two floors down. The building had more boys than girls, and until Sydney had arrived, Inessa had been the only girl between five and fourteen. Her enthusiasm at meeting Sydney had been dampened only slightly when she learned that Sydney didn't speak Russian; despite the language barrier, the girls seemed to get along quite well.
"Can I, Mommy?" Sydney asked in English, jumping up from the table where she'd been practicing her Cyrillic letters. She'd acquired a few Russian words and phrases over the last six days, and showed a remarkable ability to pick up the gist of what was said around her.
"Da, Sydney. Come home when it gets dark."
"I will, Mommy." The two girls scampered off.
Irina closed the door with a sigh. Sydney was adjusting remarkably quickly, she thought. Most of the first day had been spent with Sydney clinging to Irina, interspersed with bouts of tantrums—she wanted more toys, she wanted television, she didn't like the food. In the evening, though, Elena had had the brilliant idea of inviting Inessa up. After a few hours of playing with Inessa, Sydney had begun acting more like her normal self. She'd spent most of the intervening days with Inessa, sometimes in their apartment, sometimes in the Shurikovs' apartment, sometimes at a playground down the street. Irina was glad for the break; although Sydney seemed to be well-behaved around others, she still threw tantrums and frequently got whiny when she was just with her mother. Irina hoped that those problems would disappear as Sydney got better adjusted.
She went over and knocked on the door to Elena's room. "Elena, she's gone." Elena had indicated when she got home from work an hour ago that she had something to tell Irina privately, then disappeared into her bedroom to work.
"Inessa again?" Elena said as she came out.
"Yes. Thank God Inessa's grandmother is willing to watch Sydney during the day."
"You could ask for more time off," Elena said, sitting down on the couch. Privately, she thought her sister needed it, and not just to take care of Sydney. Irina had barely slept since Sydney arrived; Elena could hear her moving about in the main room at all hours of the night. She looked exhausted. Irina had never slept much; during her KGB training she'd slept like the dead for about four hours each night. Since she'd come back from America, though, it was more like one or two hours, and she would wake up at the littlest things. But now Irina wasn't even getting the few hours she'd gotten before; she said she was afraid Sydney would have nightmares, but Elena, a fairly light sleeper herself, knew perfectly well that Sydney had had only one nightmare the first night and had slept just fine ever since.
Irina shook her head. "Not that I don't want to, but I'm afraid that they'll take Sydney away if it seems she's affecting my work." She paused. "I wasn't supposed to have a child, of course. I knew the only way she'd be allowed to live was if I pretended she was nothing to me, just an inconvenience." Though Irina's voice was calm, she was holding the back of a chair in a white-knuckled grip.
Elena stood and put her arm around her baby sister. "It's because the KGB is run by men, Irushka. They don't understand anything." Irina gave her a small smile, then looked away. Elena changed the subject. "Sydney seems to be adjusting well. I'm amazed at how much Russian she's learned in a week."
"Yes, well, the amount of time she spends out playing probably has something to do with it," Irina said, moving away and sitting on the couch. "It's remarkable how well Sydney's taking all this," she continued. "It's a whole different world from what she left, Elena."
"I'm sure." They sat in silence for a moment.
"So did you find out anything about Ja—Agent Bristow?" Irina said, her tone neutral and suddenly distant.
Elena winced. The KGB had certainly done their work well. Irina tried to close off completely whenever she had to mention Sydney's father, but Elena could tell that there was a gulf of feeling being held back by the thinnest of walls. "A little," she answered. Irina had asked her several days ago to find out what she could about Jack Bristow's death. "He was on a CIA mission in Poland; the team walked into an ambush and were all killed."
"Who ambushed them?" Irina asked.
Elena hesitated, then said, "The KGB." Irina tensed but didn't move or speak. "It doesn't seem like they were out to get Agent Bristow specifically," she added. "He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Was it...did he suffer?"
"Apparently there was a short firefight, over in minutes. All of the Americans were killed cleanly." Elena was silent for a moment, watching her baby sister. "You loved him, didn't you?" she said softly.
Irina looked at her, shock evident in her eyes, along with...shame? Yes, shame, Elena decided as Irina hurriedly said, "Loved him? God, no! He was just my target!" Her eyes filled with tears; she blinked furiously, but they spilled onto her cheeks despite her efforts. Elena pulled her into a hug; Irina stiffened momentarily, but then let herself cry on her older sister's shoulder. "It was just a mission," she said, her words muffled. "Just a mission. Just ten years of...of kisses, and talking for hours, and holding hands, and waking up in his arms, and taking care of him, and taking care of Sydney together..." She pulled back and swiped angrily at her tears. "I didn't love him, Elena," she said tonelessly. "I maintained my objectivity, I was only pretending."
She looked away, focusing on the far wall. "I left Sydney for him," she said softly, sadly. "I knew he'd be devastated when I...when Laura died. I could have taken her with me, if I'd wanted, but it would have killed him. It almost killed me, to leave th—to leave her." Her tears had stopped, and she wiped the last traces away with her sleeve. Her expression hardened again. "I should never have had her in the first place. Look at this life I've brought her into--eight years old, and she's already lost both parents, been kidnapped by the KGB, and seen her dead mother come back to life."
Elena smiled. "Children are resilient. You were that age when Papa died." Their father had been a KGB agent; Elena had been thirteen, Katya eleven, and Irina eight when he'd been killed in the line of duty. The three girls and their mother had had to go through major changes with the loss of their father's income and prestige.
Irina frowned. "I barely remember what it was like before Papa died. I barely even remember him. Sydney's not going to remember much about America and her father, is she?"
"She will, because you'll tell her, Irina." Sydney came through the door just as Elena finished speaking. She turned to her niece. "Did you have fun, Sydney?"
"Da, Tyetka Elena," Sydney replied. "Mommy, am I going to play with Inessa tomorrow? I think her Babushka said she'd see me then."
"Yes, Sydney," Irina said, forcing a smile. "I have to go back to work tomorrow, so you're going to stay with the Shurikovs during the day until school starts."
"Do you have to?" Sydney asked, a whine creeping into her voice. She ran to Irina and climbed on her lap. "I don't want you to go away." Then she whispered, "What if you don't come back?"
Jack had been killed while away at work, of course, and she had been on her way home from an evening class when she'd been extracted, Irina remembered; no wonder Sydney didn't want her mother to go back to work. "Of course I'll come back, sweetheart."
"You promise?"
"I promise," Irina replied. She knew that she couldn't really promise that nothing would happen to her, but right now it was what Sydney needed to hear. "It's time for you to get ready for bed, okay?"
"Okay, Mommy." Sydney reached up and gave Irina a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Mommy."
Irina smiled. So many memories had come flooding back over the last week, and as they did, all the warm maternal feelings that she had privately denounced as weaknesses over the past year and a half had once again begun to feel perfectly natural—and wonderful. She hugged Sydney tightly. "I love you so very, very much, Sydney."
There was a knock at the door, and Irina got up to answer it. "Can Sydney come to play?" asked the young girl on the other side. Inessa Shurikov was nine and lived two floors down. The building had more boys than girls, and until Sydney had arrived, Inessa had been the only girl between five and fourteen. Her enthusiasm at meeting Sydney had been dampened only slightly when she learned that Sydney didn't speak Russian; despite the language barrier, the girls seemed to get along quite well.
"Can I, Mommy?" Sydney asked in English, jumping up from the table where she'd been practicing her Cyrillic letters. She'd acquired a few Russian words and phrases over the last six days, and showed a remarkable ability to pick up the gist of what was said around her.
"Da, Sydney. Come home when it gets dark."
"I will, Mommy." The two girls scampered off.
Irina closed the door with a sigh. Sydney was adjusting remarkably quickly, she thought. Most of the first day had been spent with Sydney clinging to Irina, interspersed with bouts of tantrums—she wanted more toys, she wanted television, she didn't like the food. In the evening, though, Elena had had the brilliant idea of inviting Inessa up. After a few hours of playing with Inessa, Sydney had begun acting more like her normal self. She'd spent most of the intervening days with Inessa, sometimes in their apartment, sometimes in the Shurikovs' apartment, sometimes at a playground down the street. Irina was glad for the break; although Sydney seemed to be well-behaved around others, she still threw tantrums and frequently got whiny when she was just with her mother. Irina hoped that those problems would disappear as Sydney got better adjusted.
She went over and knocked on the door to Elena's room. "Elena, she's gone." Elena had indicated when she got home from work an hour ago that she had something to tell Irina privately, then disappeared into her bedroom to work.
"Inessa again?" Elena said as she came out.
"Yes. Thank God Inessa's grandmother is willing to watch Sydney during the day."
"You could ask for more time off," Elena said, sitting down on the couch. Privately, she thought her sister needed it, and not just to take care of Sydney. Irina had barely slept since Sydney arrived; Elena could hear her moving about in the main room at all hours of the night. She looked exhausted. Irina had never slept much; during her KGB training she'd slept like the dead for about four hours each night. Since she'd come back from America, though, it was more like one or two hours, and she would wake up at the littlest things. But now Irina wasn't even getting the few hours she'd gotten before; she said she was afraid Sydney would have nightmares, but Elena, a fairly light sleeper herself, knew perfectly well that Sydney had had only one nightmare the first night and had slept just fine ever since.
Irina shook her head. "Not that I don't want to, but I'm afraid that they'll take Sydney away if it seems she's affecting my work." She paused. "I wasn't supposed to have a child, of course. I knew the only way she'd be allowed to live was if I pretended she was nothing to me, just an inconvenience." Though Irina's voice was calm, she was holding the back of a chair in a white-knuckled grip.
Elena stood and put her arm around her baby sister. "It's because the KGB is run by men, Irushka. They don't understand anything." Irina gave her a small smile, then looked away. Elena changed the subject. "Sydney seems to be adjusting well. I'm amazed at how much Russian she's learned in a week."
"Yes, well, the amount of time she spends out playing probably has something to do with it," Irina said, moving away and sitting on the couch. "It's remarkable how well Sydney's taking all this," she continued. "It's a whole different world from what she left, Elena."
"I'm sure." They sat in silence for a moment.
"So did you find out anything about Ja—Agent Bristow?" Irina said, her tone neutral and suddenly distant.
Elena winced. The KGB had certainly done their work well. Irina tried to close off completely whenever she had to mention Sydney's father, but Elena could tell that there was a gulf of feeling being held back by the thinnest of walls. "A little," she answered. Irina had asked her several days ago to find out what she could about Jack Bristow's death. "He was on a CIA mission in Poland; the team walked into an ambush and were all killed."
"Who ambushed them?" Irina asked.
Elena hesitated, then said, "The KGB." Irina tensed but didn't move or speak. "It doesn't seem like they were out to get Agent Bristow specifically," she added. "He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Was it...did he suffer?"
"Apparently there was a short firefight, over in minutes. All of the Americans were killed cleanly." Elena was silent for a moment, watching her baby sister. "You loved him, didn't you?" she said softly.
Irina looked at her, shock evident in her eyes, along with...shame? Yes, shame, Elena decided as Irina hurriedly said, "Loved him? God, no! He was just my target!" Her eyes filled with tears; she blinked furiously, but they spilled onto her cheeks despite her efforts. Elena pulled her into a hug; Irina stiffened momentarily, but then let herself cry on her older sister's shoulder. "It was just a mission," she said, her words muffled. "Just a mission. Just ten years of...of kisses, and talking for hours, and holding hands, and waking up in his arms, and taking care of him, and taking care of Sydney together..." She pulled back and swiped angrily at her tears. "I didn't love him, Elena," she said tonelessly. "I maintained my objectivity, I was only pretending."
She looked away, focusing on the far wall. "I left Sydney for him," she said softly, sadly. "I knew he'd be devastated when I...when Laura died. I could have taken her with me, if I'd wanted, but it would have killed him. It almost killed me, to leave th—to leave her." Her tears had stopped, and she wiped the last traces away with her sleeve. Her expression hardened again. "I should never have had her in the first place. Look at this life I've brought her into--eight years old, and she's already lost both parents, been kidnapped by the KGB, and seen her dead mother come back to life."
Elena smiled. "Children are resilient. You were that age when Papa died." Their father had been a KGB agent; Elena had been thirteen, Katya eleven, and Irina eight when he'd been killed in the line of duty. The three girls and their mother had had to go through major changes with the loss of their father's income and prestige.
Irina frowned. "I barely remember what it was like before Papa died. I barely even remember him. Sydney's not going to remember much about America and her father, is she?"
"She will, because you'll tell her, Irina." Sydney came through the door just as Elena finished speaking. She turned to her niece. "Did you have fun, Sydney?"
"Da, Tyetka Elena," Sydney replied. "Mommy, am I going to play with Inessa tomorrow? I think her Babushka said she'd see me then."
"Yes, Sydney," Irina said, forcing a smile. "I have to go back to work tomorrow, so you're going to stay with the Shurikovs during the day until school starts."
"Do you have to?" Sydney asked, a whine creeping into her voice. She ran to Irina and climbed on her lap. "I don't want you to go away." Then she whispered, "What if you don't come back?"
Jack had been killed while away at work, of course, and she had been on her way home from an evening class when she'd been extracted, Irina remembered; no wonder Sydney didn't want her mother to go back to work. "Of course I'll come back, sweetheart."
"You promise?"
"I promise," Irina replied. She knew that she couldn't really promise that nothing would happen to her, but right now it was what Sydney needed to hear. "It's time for you to get ready for bed, okay?"
"Okay, Mommy." Sydney reached up and gave Irina a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Mommy."
Irina smiled. So many memories had come flooding back over the last week, and as they did, all the warm maternal feelings that she had privately denounced as weaknesses over the past year and a half had once again begun to feel perfectly natural—and wonderful. She hugged Sydney tightly. "I love you so very, very much, Sydney."