Title: No Looking Back
Author: Pink Flamingos Are Tacky
Rating: PG-13
Distribution: SD-1, Fanfiction, anywhere else, just ask.
Disclaimer: Alias = not mine, but if Sark's for sale, let me know!
Summary: After Sydney picks up the genetic database that her mother drops in Truth Takes Time, she finds herself in a world where Sydney Bristow no longer exists, and neither does Mr. Sark. Instead, Julian Bristow and Sydney Lazarey are rivals: always meeting each other wherever they go and working for opposing sides. There's just one problem with that: Sydney and Sark remember who they really are, but no one else does. Can they survive being each other?
As she looked at the white paper target, hanging twenty feet away from her while she pointed her gun at it, Dixon's voice flashed through her head as he said, "No one can be blamed for trusting their own mother." It only motivated her to shoot faster.
"Nice grouping," she heard a voice from behind her.
"Hey," she said as she put up a new sheet to continue her practice. "What happened?"
"They downgraded my security clearance but only temporarily until counterintelligence clears me officially. Meanwhile your father convinced them to keep me field-rated."
"Then you heard about my mother."
"Yeah."
"You were right to investigate her," she says, getting ready to fire again.
He starts to explain. "Sydney..."
"No, it's okay. It's the truth. I'm not blaming you, it's me. I was so naive about her."
"I don't think you should be a part of this task force. Look, you know how I feel about Irina Derevko but no one should have to hunt down their own mother, no matter what the circumstances are."
"She was never my mother," said Sydney, and for a moment she looked like she almost believed it.
"You want to believe that?" Vaughn asks skeptically.
"Don't do this to me again. Don't condescend."
"That's not what I'm doing, you know that. Look, if you corner her and you hesitate to pull the trigger, even for one second, it could cost you your life."
She replaced her glasses and ear protectors and as she did, she said, "I won't hesitate."
And he knew she meant it.
And he was right. She hid around the corner and alternated firing shots with her mother. Finally, Irina started up the ladder out of the tunnel and Sydney yelled, "Freeze! Don't move!"
Irina turned, almost as if daring her daughter to shoot her, and true to her word, Sydney didn't hesitate, and shot her mother in the arm.
Irina dropped the genetic database that she and Sloane had tried to protect, letting it fall to the floor as she hoisted herself out of the tunnel and rolled onto the grass. Sydney rushed to the box and snatched it up, her fingers pressing down on a few of the buttons as she did so. As she started her climb up the ladder towards her mother, she felt herself falling further and further away from the opening and into the darkness...
Suddenly, she was in a helicopter. She had no idea how she got there, but she just assumed she had blacked out and the CIA had picked her up.
That's odd, she thought. I don't remember calling in a chopper for backup. Dixon must've done it.
She quickly came out of her thoughts as she saw Irina rushing towards the quickly landing chopper, clutching her arm. Sloane and Emily were running across the grass when suddenly, Emily fell. Sydney fought back the urge to jump out of the helicopter and run to Emily, but she saw Sloane abandon her and continue towards the chopper.
Why is he running towards us? Doesn't he know that we're CIA? As Irina used her good arm to help him in, Sydney just looked on in shock and amazement as Sark's head popped out of the tunnel and he began to shoot at them.
"Go! Just go!" Irina yelled at the driver, just as Vaughn made his way out of the house and also started to fire at them.
Why is Vaughn shooting at us? She wondered as they flew off into the distance.
"Sydney, can you do something about this?" Irina asked, gesturing towards her arm.
"We have to get you to a hospital. We can't wait until we get back to LA for this," said Sydney, moving towards her mother. She couldn't help but want to help her mother, even after everything that had happened.
Both Irina and Sloane just stared blankly at Sydney. "Sydney," her mother finally spoke, "we're not going to LA. We're on our way to Greece, but now we're going to stop for the night at the safe house in Turin, remember?"
"Mom, you're under arrest. You both are. I'm taking you back to the CIA in LA. Dad will meet us there."
"Sydney, are you okay?" She put her hand to her daughter's forehead. "Was that you who fell this morning before we left?"
She shook her mother's hand from her head. "Mom, I wasn't with you this morning. Sark probably was. I was in LA, with Dad, and Vaughn, and the CIA."
"Honey, I know you hit your head hard this morning, but-"
"She said she was fine when she got to the house," Sloane finally spoke from the other side of the copter.
"I know," said Irina to Sloane, totally ignoring Sydney's protests. "I don't know what brought on this sudden case of amnesia."
Sydney finally leaned back against the seat and tried to ignore her mother and Sloane. Finally, she realized that her mother was still bleeding. "We need to get that out," Sydney said.
"We'll be landing in a few minutes anyway," said Irina I've got a contact who's going to meet us and provide aliases and papers. We'll be able to probably get some form of medical treatment, for both me and Sydney."
"Mom, I told you, there's nothing wrong with me!!"
"Of course there's not," Irina said off-handedly as they landed.
They met with a man as soon as they got off of the plane, who Irina chatted animatedly with in Italian, and after a few moments of what Sydney thought was bargaining on a price, Irina returned to her and Sloane with three passports and sets of identity papers.
"Look through these," she said as she handed the two of them their papers and signaled for the car to pick them up.
When they got to the house, Sydney was amazed. The house was huge, almost like Sloane's that the CIA had raided earlier that day.
"Irina?" asked a man greeting them in the foyer as they entered the house.
"Yes, Andre?" she said, giving the man almost a warm smile.
"Mr. Sloane, Miss Lazarey," Andre nodded to the both of them.
"Andre, please show Sydney to her room."
If he was confused by this request, he didn't show it as he led Sydney up the stairs and to the last door at the end of a very long hallway. As he opened the door, Sydney gazed in awe at the huge four poster bed that sat in the middle of the room surrounded by the expensive oak furniture. She saw the double French doors leading out to a small balcony overlooking the pool and the small tennis court to the left of the pool.
"Your room, Miss Lazarey," Andre said quietly as he left.
Sydney lightly ran her fingers over the oak dresser that stood next to a walk-in closet and picked up a picture sitting in the center by a jewelry box. It was almost the same picture that sat on her dresser at home: the one of her and her parents on her sixth birthday, the last picture taken of her and both her parents. But it was different; she had no idea who the two people she was with were. There was another one next to it, a picture of the day she graduated from high school, she guessed, because there she was in the traditional cap and gown. She remembered that picture being taken, not with Irina, but with her father.
She heard voices coming from downstairs and she recognized them as Sloane and Irina's. She felt like she was little again, listening to her mother and father talk about her when they thought she was asleep.
"I'm not sure why she keeps calling me "Mom" all of a sudden. I'm the closest thing she's had to a parent, but she's always called me Irina," Sydney heard her mother say quietly.
"It's probably just the amnesia. She fell pretty hard this morning," Sloane replied.
She didn't stay to hear the rest of the conversation, just retreated back to her room and sank down onto the bed, trying to sort out just what had happened to her. She stared for a moment at the phone on the nightstand next to her bed, almost as if deciding what to do. Finally, she picked it up and dialed a number all-too familiar to her.
"Hello?" the voice on the other end answered.
She recognized the voice on the other end, but she didn't know if they'd know it was her. "Hi," she began. "This is Sydney Bristow...I'm looking for-"
"I'm sorry, you must have the wrong number. We've never heard of a Sydney Bristow."